#this should have been three posts I see that now

[crossbackpoke-check]

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[mingi-s-dimples]

No Safe Haven - Jongho

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

pairing: military general!jongho x captured fem!spy

genre: army/military au, 18+, filth, enemies to lovers

summary: you never thought infiltrating in his base would get you utterly destroyed and ruined in his office.. but he made sure to make you scream his name.

wc: 5.4k

warnings: military au, enemies to lovers, mean dom!jongho, bratty!reader, lots of cursing, lots of marking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, wrist restraint, lots of talking back tehehe, fingering with a glove, fingering in general, three rounds in total, desk sex, lip biting, biting, possessiveness, unprotected sex (boo use protection irl) completely consensual, for sure forgot something &&& will edit later.

Author's Note: HELLOOOO GUYSSS it's been a while since I've posted a fic of my own, of my own idea 🫣. I've been super into military attire and stuff these days because for uni I'm going to choose the military general medicine part not the citizen one 🤞 and I got pleeentyyyy of ideas to write just about thinking of the uniforms - ups (I'm a whore for this man I'm so sorry-). Anyways it's pure filth- enjoyy 😋🎀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The battlefield had been bloody, ruthless. You had done everything you could to keep your cover intact, but in the end,

Jongho had caught you.

You had been sent to infiltrate his ranks, gather intel, and sabotage his forces from within. But the war general, known for his unshakable control and brutal tactics, saw through your deception from the very start. Now, you were his prisoner.

The heavy scent of leather, steel, and smoke filled the war tent where you knelt on the cold stone floor, arms bound behind your back. Your head remained high despite the tight ropes digging into your wrists, despite the oppressive weight of the man standing above you. Jongho hadn’t said a word yet, but his presence was enough to suffocate you.

Boots scraped against the floor as he circled you, slow and methodical, like a lion taking its time with a wounded prey. “I should have you executed,” he mused, voice deep, rich, unwavering. “That is the price of betrayal, after all.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Then do it.”

His lips curled at your defiance, a smirk that was both amused and completely in control. "No," he murmured, crouching to your level. "Death is a mercy you don’t deserve."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gloved fingers tracing the side of your face in a touch that was far too gentle, too intimate for an enemy.

“You infiltrated my army,” Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Lied to me. Manipulated my men. And yet… look at you. Still trying to act strong.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his gaze. But then, his grip shifted—fingers tightening around your chin, forcing your head back until your neck was bared to him. His next words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let’s see how long that fire lasts, little spy. Because make no mistake…" His lips brushed dangerously close to your ear. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

Your pulse was hammering, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Not when he looked at you like he already owned you.

He was too close—too much, too commanding, too intense. His breath fanned over your lips, his fingers still resting just under your chin, as if he were deciding whether to stroke or break.

You hated how easily he made you react. How his voice settled into your bones, how the weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten. So you did the only thing that made sense.

You spat in his face.

The moment the spit landed, a slow, dangerous silence settled between you.

Jongho didn’t move. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t react at all for a long, agonizing moment.

His head tilted as he slowly dragged his tongue across his teeth. His fingers flexed at his sides before he reached up and wiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his glove, watching you like a predator who had just decided to play with its food.

"You're fucking bold, aren't you?"

You barely had time to breathe before his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

Not crushing. Not yet. But firm, a warning.

His hand tightened around your throat, firm enough to keep you still, to remind you that he was the one in control here.

You should have been terrified. Any sane person would be. But you weren’t.

Not when his pupils were blown wide, Not when his breath came out ragged and heavy like he was barely holding himself back.

"You just don’t fucking know when to stop, do you?" his hand hovered in the air almost like he'd hit you, but he didn't. He backed off in a second.

Despite the way his dominance wrapped around you like a vice, despite the way his grip sent a heat spiraling through your core, you still smirked.

"You wanted to slap me," you murmured, your voice smooth, taunting. "But you didn’t."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Something almost feral.

"You really don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

And then—his grip flexed, not enough to choke, but enough to steal your breath for half a second.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding.

"I should throw you to my men," he murmured, his breath scorching against your skin. "Let them deal with you, break you the way traitors deserve."

A shiver rocketed down your spine.

"But you won’t," you breathed. "Because I belong to you, don’t I?"

The words tasted dangerous, but they weren’t a surrender. They were a challenge.

Jongho stilled and chuckled.

"See, that’s the thing," he muttered. His grip on your throat loosened just enough for his thumb to press against your bottom lip. "You talk like you have a choice."

His thumb dragged down, pulling your lip slightly—teasing, testing, owning.

"You think you can keep fighting me?" he scoffed. "That you can keep pretending you’re not fucking shaking for me?"

Your lips parted to spit something back, but you never got the chance.

Because he kissed you. And fuck, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a war, a claim, a punishment.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his fingers tangled in your hair. Then—he yanked your head back.

A sharp pull, just enough to make you arch into him, just enough to make you fucking feel it.

The kiss was messy, deep, raw. His tongue brushed against yours, then forced its way in, taking, stealing, consuming.

You hated how easily he made you respond. How your body melted into him despite the fire in your veins.

His teeth sank into your lower lip, sharp, punishing, enough to draw a gasp from deep in your throat.

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his dominance dripping from every touch, every movement.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you close, keeping you right where he wanted you. Then, just as suddenly, he ripped himself away.

Your chest heaved, your lips tingling, swollen, fucking ruined. His forehead pressed to yours, his breathing uneven, heavy.

"I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you since the moment I found out you infiltrated my base."

Your stomach flipped violently. Jongho’s voice was rough, pure gravel, pure torment.

"I should have had you killed." His lips brushed against your jaw, your cheek, your ear. His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you flush against him. "But I didn't."

Your breath came in short, quick bursts.

"Why?" you whispered, and you hated how breathless you sounded.

His smirk was pure sin. "Because I wanted to be the one to break you," he murmured. "Wanted to see you fall apart under me, wanted to hear you fucking beg."

Your nails dug into your palms, the last remnants of your resistance hanging by a thread.

He tilted his head, his nose barely brushing yours. "I hate how much I want you," he murmured. “And I fucking love it at the same time."

The air between you was scorching, suffocating, dangerous.

"Tell me, little spy," he murmured. His lips ghosted over yours, his words dripping in dominance.

"Are you still going to pretend you don’t want this?"

And for the first time… You didn’t have an answer.

The silence between you was thick, suffocating, stretched to its very limit.

Jongho was still so fucking close, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Then—he snapped.

With a low, wrecked curse, he yanked you forward, his grip like iron around your wrist. Before you could react, he lifted you up effortlessly, manhandling you like you were nothing, your back colliding with the small desk in the room.

His body followed—towering, overwhelming, consuming. And then, he shoved you back.

One palm wrapped around your throat, the other sliding up your waist, fingers digging in, staking his claim as your spine hit the cold wall behind you.

Jongho’s breathing was wrecked, his expression nothing short of feral.

"You really fucking love pushing me, don’t you?" he muttered, his lips crashing onto yours before you had the chance to respond.

This kiss was pure fucking destruction.

Hot. Messy. Feral.

He wasn’t kissing you—he was taking you.

His tongue pushed in, deep and demanding, licking into your mouth like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to ruin the way you tasted.

He swallowed the gasp you let out when his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, his hips pressing flush against yours, his grip tightening on your waist.

His thumb brushed up, pressing against your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

And god—his eyes.

Dark. Wild. Possessive.

"I swear to fucking god," he muttered, his voice low, dripping in dominance, "if you don’t tell me you want this, I’ll stop right now."

You licked your lips, still dazed, still burning from the way he kissed you.

He waited. Just a breath. Just a second. Then—you smirked.

"Stop?" you echoed, your voice syrupy sweet, teasing, testing. “You won’t."

Jongho’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard his teeth grind.

His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your flesh, grounding himself.

"You really wanna play this damn game, don’t you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath scorching hot.

You tilted your head, batting your lashes. "I don’t know what you mean, General," you taunted. "I thought you were going to stop."

Something in him snapped at your words. "Fuck," he cursed, low and sharp and fucking wrecked.

Then, he kissed you again—harder, deeper, with even less patience.

His hand slid down from your throat, down your chest, gripping your waist, your thigh, spreading you open for him.

"Tell me you want this," he muttered, his lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting, sucking, leaving his mark.

His teeth scraped against your skin, his breath scorching hot against the bruises he left behind.

You inhaled sharply, every inch of you burning, every nerve alight with him.

Then, just to test him one last time, you murmured—so fucking soft, so fucking bratty—

"Make me."

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his hand tightening on your waist like he was seconds away from breaking you completely.

"Oh, you have no fucking idea what you just asked for.”

His lips were relentless. They left no space untouched, trailing down from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your throat—biting, sucking, marking. He wasn’t just kissing you. He was ruining you.

The first sharp bite to your neck ripped a whine from your lips, your head tilting back as pleasure and pain mingled in a dizzying haze.

And just as you sucked in another breath— His hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to remind you who the fuck was in control.

"Shut up," he muttered, his grip flexing, silencing the sound still stuck in your throat.

Your nails dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white, body burning.

His other hand—hot, rough, possessive—slid up your waist, finding the torn fabric of your blouse.

Jongho exhaled sharply at the sight of your black lace bra, his breath coming out heavier, rougher, his restraint hanging by a fucking thread.

"God damn.." he muttered under his breath, his hands splaying over your ribs, thumbs brushing just under your breasts.

Then—his mouth was on you again.

His lips latched onto the swell of your chest, kissing, licking, then—Biting.

The first mark sent a jolt straight between your legs, a soft whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Jongho groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your waist harder, his desperation slipping through the cracks.

His hat—that goddamn general’s cap he always wore like a crown—finally tumbled off, landing somewhere on the floor.

And god, that sight alone—his dark, tousled hair finally exposed, his head buried against your chest, his body pushing you further into the desk—It was almost too much.

And yet—you couldn’t resist pushing him further. You chuckled, low, teasing, amused by his sheer fucking desperation.

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, your voice dripping in mockery.

Jongho stilled and laughed.

Then, with zero warning, he sank his teeth into the curve of your breast. Not gentle. Not sweet. A punishment.

A small cry tore from your throat, but his hand tightened on your neck, keeping it trapped, keeping it his.

"You think this is funny, huh?" he muttered, his breath scorching against the bruises he left.

You grinned, breathless, wrecked, but still teasing.

"Yeah," you whispered, your lashes fluttering as you met his gaze.

Jongho exhaled sharply, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen, damp with you.

"God, you just don’t fucking stop," he muttered, his hands tightening on your waist, holding you in place.

"Then maybe," he continued, his lips trailing up your chest, your throat, back to your mouth,

“I should shut you up myself."

You licked your lips, still tasting him, still feeling the way his hands had claimed every inch of you.

And yet—he still hadn’t ruined you. Not completely. So you did what you did best. You pushed him further.

"You keep talking about ruining me," you murmured, tilting your head, voice syrupy sweet, taunting.

Jongho’s fingers twitched on your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirked. "When are you actually gonna do it?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience snapping like a thin thread. Then—his hand was on your throat again. Tighter. Unyielding. His grip forced your head back against the wall, your body completely at his mercy.

"You wanna be ruined, huh?" he muttered, his voice low, dripping in danger.

You barely had time to breathe before he pushed forward, pressing his lips to your ear.

"You wanna be destroyed, hm?" he whispered, his voice a promise.

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

Jongho felt it. He fucking felt it.

"Let's see.. I wanna make you beg," he muttered, his hand sliding lower, his grip on your throat loosening just enough to let you breathe.

His lips dragged down your jaw, back to your throat, biting, licking, marking you deeper.

"I wanna hear you scream my name," he continued, his words scorching hot against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, your nails digging into the edge of the desk as his hands traveled lower, claiming, consuming.

"I wanna make you cry, cry for my mercy" he whispered, his teeth grazing your pulse. “But you won't get any.”

A small sound—something between a moan and a gasp—slipped past your lips.

He groaned, wrecked at the sound of you.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You really have no idea what you’ve done," he murmured, his gaze burning into yours.

"You really don’t fucking know how long I’ve waited for this."

His fingers dragged along your thigh, teasing, tormenting, pushing you closer to the edge without even touching you properly.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered.

"You’re mine now."

His grip tightened on your jaw, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"And I’m gonna fucking destroy your pretty little pussy.”

He was looong gone.

The moment he yanked off his thick army jacket, revealing the sheer strength beneath—the broad chest, the cut muscles, the battle-worn scars beneath his black shirt—your breath caught in your throat.

And when he reached for your blouse, tearing it away to finally reveal the toned body that came with being a spy, his eyes darkened.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his gaze drinking you in, raw and hungry.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have felt exposed.

But instead? You liked it.

You liked the way his eyes devoured you whole. Liked the way his breath hitched as he took in every inch of you.

And god, his personality? That commanding, ruthless dominance?

It was everything you wanted. Everything you needed.

Maybe it was because of your career, the way you were trained to fight, to defy, to challenge the most dangerous of men.

Or maybe—you just liked men who knew how to fucking take.

Jongho’s fingers moved to your pants, unfastening them with zero hesitation. With one sharp tug, they were gone, pooling at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

And that’s when he saw them.

The scars.

Faint. Barely there. Memories of fights, of battles you survived.

Jongho stilled. Not in hesitation. Not in pity. In pure, raw admiration. Then—he lowered himself. Dropped to his knees. And he pressed his lips to the first scar. Then another. And another. Each one kissed, licked, marked.

Your breath shuddered, your head tilting back against the wall, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.

You wanted to touch him.

Wanted to tangle your fingers in his thick, black hair, yank him closer, make him stay there forever. But you couldn’t. Your hands were still tied.

Jongho exhaled sharply against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"You’re fucking perfect," he muttered, his lips brushing over the inside of your leg, his voice deep, reverent, utterly wrecked.

Then—he lifted his head. And that look?

That ravenous, all-consuming, predatory stare?

It sent a violent shudder through your entire body.

Jongho didn't even bother taking off his gloves.

His breath was ragged, heavy, dripping in hunger as he pushed himself back up, towering over you again.

His gloved fingers—rough, calloused, strong—trailed from your breasts, grazing over your tight, sensitive skin, dragging lower, lower—

Until he reached the soaked fabric of your panties, barely covering what was his.

He exhaled sharply, his hot breath hitting your face as his lips brushed over yours, teasing, taunting.

"You’re dripping," he murmured, his voice a low, filthy rasp.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing the soaked material, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble.

You whined, hips twitching.

"Mhm, you want it," he muttered, his tone dark, knowing, dripping in dominance.

He didn’t ask. He knew.

You glared at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wanted. So, he took it.

With one sharp, impatient tug, your panties were gone—ripped off like they were nothing.

And then—his fingers were on you. Bare, exposed, nowhere to hide.

A choked moan escaped your lips the second his fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering everything you were giving him.

Jongho let out a low, pleased sound, his jaw tightening.

"You’re fucking soaked," he muttered, almost to himself, almost like he was losing control just from feeling how wrecked you already were.

And then—he pushed in.

One finger, thick, gloved, sliding into your cunt with ease, filling you up in ways that made your breath hitch.

You clenched around him instinctively, a sharp moan escaping before you could stop it.

Jongho cursed under his breath.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he shoved in another finger, stretching you open, preparing you.

He didn’t ease you in. Didn’t tease. Didn’t wait. He destroyed. His fingers pounded into you, rough, deep, deliberate. Thrusting. Stretching. Curling just right.

Every drag, every push, every pump had your legs trembling, your breath hitching, your body shaking.

You moaned again, louder, a desperate sound that only spurred him on.

"That’s it," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper.

"Let me hear you."

His free hand gripped your waist, holding you still as you writhed under his touch, helpless, wrecked, desperate for more.

He thrust his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over until—

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body clenching, tightening, shattering.

Jongho groaned, watching as you came undone around his fingers.

"Good fucking girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, over your pulse, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

And then—he yanked his fingers out, his gloved hand covered in your slick.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he brought them to your lips.

"Open."

Your breath hitched. But you did.

And the second your tongue met the taste of yourself on his fingers, Jongho groaned—deep, guttural, wrecked.

"Fuck," he muttered, his jaw clenching.

Then—his hands were on his belt. Unbuckling. Unzipping. Freeing himself.

"You took my fingers so fucking well," he murmured, his voice a promise, dark and deadly and drenched in filth.

"Now—"

He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the desk, lining himself up against your still-twitching entrance.

"Let’s see how well you take my cock."

Jongho didn't waste a second. His hands went to his belt—quick, precise, impatient.

The metal clinked as he unfastened it, and then—his pants dropped, pooling at his ankles, leaving him in nothing but his tight black briefs.

Your breath hitched.You could already see it.

The outline. The size. The sheer thickness. And then—his briefs went next. Fuck. He was big. Thick, long, heavy, the tip leaking with proof of just how much he fucking wanted you. And the look on his face? Ravenous. Starved. Like he was going to eat you alive.

Then—his teeth clenched around his gloves.

One by one, he yanked them off with nothing but his fucking mouth, his sharp canines digging into the fabric, his jaw tightening.

The sight? Sinful. Dangerous. Absolutely lethal. And the second they were off—he grabbed you. Spread your thighs wide open, lined himself up, and—

Slid right the fuck in.

One, brutal, devastating thrust. Every inch. Every single inch, buried deep inside you.

Your back arched off the desk, a broken moan ripping from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you wide, making you take him.

A deep, low, animalistic sound escaped his chest, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it was borderline bruising.

"Tight as fuck," he hissed, his jaw clenching as he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against the very deepest part of you.

You clenched around him—hard. Jongho cursed under his breath. And then, when his gaze flickered to your face—

When he saw the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips trembled, the way your eyes glazed over with unshed tears from the sheer stretch of him—

His expression darkened. And his cock fucking twitched inside you.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice husky, sinful, absolutely wrecked.

"You gonna cry for me, sweetheart?"

His thumb wiped away a stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips grazing yours, his fingers gripping your thighs.

"You will."

Then—he moved. And ruined you. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts were brutal. Animalistic. Completely unhinged.

Your body fucking bounced with every snap of his hips, every shove, every relentless drive of his cock inside you.

"Taking it so fucking well," he muttered, his jaw clenched, his nails digging into your skin.

Deep. So deep. So goddamn good.

Your moans turned to whimpers, your whimpers turned to broken cries.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his thrusts turning sharp, rough, pure devastation.

"That’s it," he muttered, his voice a low, dark rasp.

"Fucking take it."

And you did. Every inch. Every thrust. Every ounce of filthy, reckless, dominating pleasure he gave you. You loved it. Fucking loved it.

And Jongho?

He was going to make sure you never forgot it.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened—bruising, possessive, unrelenting.

His pace grew harder. Deeper. More powerful.

Each thrust sent you reeling, your body rocking with the sheer force of him, the desk beneath you creaking under the weight of it all.

Then—his hand slid to your back. A sharp tug. A forceful pull. He dragged you closer, forcing you to take him even deeper. A wrecked cry left your lips. You cursed. You whined. You moaned.

Low, deep, almost feral—his voice drenched in raw satisfaction.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath warm against your ear.

"Every inch of me inside you, just how I’ve fucking wanted—"

His head fell forward, a growl vibrating in his chest. He was close.

And then—his next words sent a full-body shudder down your spine.

"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice hoarse, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, desperate.

"Gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

And then—he did.

He buried himself deep, filling you up, holding you there, making you take everything he gave you.

You gasped, your body clenching around him, your mind spinning, your breath hitched—

But Jongho wasn’t done. Not even close.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers brushed up your spine—slow, teasing, dangerous.

Then, in one swift, powerful motion—he flipped you over.

You barely had time to gasp before he dragged you to the edge of the desk, forcing your chest against the cold wood.

And then—his hand wrapped around your face. A firm push.

Your cheek met the surface, your breath hitching as he leaned over you, his weight pressing into your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

"Not done with you," he murmured, his tone dangerously low.

"Not even fucking close."

Then— a yank.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make your eyes meet his. And his gaze? Dark. Feral. Completely wrecked.

"Look at me," he muttered, his grip tightening, his breath ragged.

"Watch me while I fucking destroy you."

And then—he did exactly that.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your gaze onto his. His hips snapped forward—ruthless, punishing, relentless. Harder. Deeper. Unyielding.

Every thrust was a claim, a vow, a promise to ruin you beyond repair.

The desk beneath you creaked, your body jolting with every devastating movement.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice dripping with dominance, his tone laced with pure, unfiltered possession.

"Feel how deep I am? How I’m making you take it?"

Your breath hitched, your body tightening, the coil in your stomach winding dangerously close to snapping.

Jongho noticed. Of course he did. He smirked—dark, knowing. And then—he stopped. Pulled out.

Your body screamed in protest, the pleasure that had built up to a near-breaking point now cruelly ripped away.

A strangled noise left your lips. "You—"

"You think you get to come?" Jongho cut you off, his hand gripping your hip, forcing you still beneath him.

"You think I’ll let you have it that easily?"

Then—he was inside you again. Filling you up in a single, brutal thrust, dragging you back to the edge— And stopping. Again.

"Fuck—" you gasped, your hands clenching into fists behind your back, your legs trembling.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Not until I hear you," he murmured, his grip tightening, his voice deep, wicked.

"You want to come, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted over your ear, his hips rolling into you with slow, deliberate torture.

"Then say my fucking name."

You swallowed hard, your pride fighting against the sheer desperation flooding your body.

You were so close, so ruined, so wrecked—

But you refused to give in. So he did it again. And again. Brought you to the peak—then ripped it away. Over. And over. And over. Until—

"Jongho!"

It tore from your throat, raw and desperate, a curse, a plea, a surrender all in one.

Only then did he give it to you.

Only then did he let you fall.

And when you did?

You shattered.

The pleasure crashed over you in violent waves, your body tightening, clenching, convulsing around him as he groaned through clenched teeth.

"That’s it," he murmured, his pace turning wild, ruthless.

"Take it. Fucking take it.”

And then—he followed.

Burying himself deep one more time, his grip bruising, his body wrecked as he spilled inside you—

Filling you. Claiming you. Destroying you.

And when the tremors faded, when your breath finally returned, when your body lay limp against the desk, utterly spent—

Jongho? He wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

His fingers slid to your chin, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

And his next words? A promise.

"You think I’m done with ruining you?"

His lips brushed yours, his voice dark, wrecked, hungry.

"You don’t even know the half of it.”

Jongho didn’t stop.

Didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you think.

Your body was still trembling, still wrecked from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t done with you.

His fingers pushed deep—so deep you nearly screamed.

"You feel that?" His voice was dark, rough, dripping with possession.

"You’re taking everything I give you, and I haven’t even ruined you completely yet."

His other hand grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the hunger in his gaze.

Then—he shoved his fingers between your lips.

"Suck."

It wasn’t a request.

Your tongue flicked over them, hot, wet, sinful— and Jongho groaned, low and wrecked.

"That’s a good girl," he muttered, his fingers dragging over your tongue before pulling free with a wet pop.

"Now, let’s see how loud I can make you scream."

And then—he was inside you again. Hard. Deep. Devastating.

Your back arched, a moan breaking from your lips, but Jongho wasn’t satisfied with that. His fingers found your clit, pressing, rubbing, teasing— You jolted. Cursed.

"Too much?" he mocked, his pace turning brutal, his grip on your waist tightening.

"Too bad."

His thrusts were merciless, unrelenting, driving you higher, harder— Until the pleasure became unbearable.

Your body convulsed, tightening, clenching, shaking— And Jongho felt it.

"Give it to me," he ordered, his voice pure command, pure dominance, pure destruction. You finally shattered.

Your scream broke through the room, your body wrecked, trembling, convulsing around him—Jongho groaned, his own restraint snapping, his grip on you bruising, unyielding—

And then he followed.

Filling you to the brim this time, all over again, cum dripping from your cunt on the desk.

And when it was over—when you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him—

Jongho leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Jongho didn’t move for a long moment, his breath still ragged, his body still pressed against yours, the heat between you still unbearable.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, commanding.

"I’ll untie you," he murmured, fingers dragging down your spine, teasing, taunting, possessive.

"But only if you swear yourself to me. To my side."

You inhaled sharply. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t just asking for loyalty—he was demanding it.

"Join me," he continued, his fingers tightening around your wrists, his touch still firm, still controlling. "Or I keep you here. Forever.”

The threat—or promise—sent a dangerous thrill down your spine. A smirk tugged at your lips despite the exhaustion in your limbs, the soreness in your body, the undeniable fact that he had completely, utterly wrecked you.

You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing, sultry, defiant.

"You know," you mused, deliberately slow, deliberately provoking,

"I was gonna retire from being a spy for them anyway."

Jongho stilled.

You grinned, eyes flashing as you added, "Guess you're stuck with me, General.”

Jongho still had that dark, commanding presence as he loomed over you, his grip firm, his body still radiating heat and power. His fingers traced over the marks he’d left on your skin, a silent reminder of what he’d just done to you.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

Even wrecked, trembling, and utterly ruined, you still had your pride.

You smirked, tilting your head up slightly, feigning innocence.

"Didn’t you get enough of me, darling?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness, your eyes flashing with mischief despite the raw pleasure still lingering in your body.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a sinful whisper.

"Didn’t I ruin your pussy enough?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his tone dark and taunting.

"You’re teasing me because you want more, aren’t you?"

His fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your exhausted body, his presence still overwhelming, still utterly in control.

Your smirk didn’t waver. His didn’t either.

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 5

(So this part might be a bit wonky in some places, I did write a portion of this while in the hospital on pain meds so.)

Keeping the family business from Danny? Yeah that didn’t happen. The child could go ghost whenever he wanted and use his invisibility to sneak around the manor. He knew about the Batcave and how everyone else in the house was connected. What impressed Jason the most is that he didn’t need to ask any questions to understand what was going on. He had met Babs, Cass and Steph and immediately knew who they were. He knew Jason used to be Robin. He knew Tim was Robin now.

It had only been 4 years and Danny had improved so much. His flashbacks had toned down significantly and he was running around like a normal 7 year old. Well as normal as a half ghost 7 year old who used to be 15 with ghost powers could be. He adapted well.

Things were changing in the household constantly, people coming and going from the house whenever needed. Jazz Sam and Tucker only stayed in the manor half of the time, having the Manson estate that the three of them also shared. Steph on the other hand, was living with them full time. She had gotten pregnant by her boyfriend who dumped her after finding out. According to Steph, she wasn’t planning on telling anyone except Tim but Clockwork had left her a note telling her move in with Bruce and that he would handle everything else.

Clockwork did that sometimes. Like with Cass. She had gotten one of his post it notes one day and it had spooked her enough to turn around instead of following her orders. She had gotten another one when she was saving Commissioner Gordon, telling her to let Batman take her in. Not all of the notes were on big things. Sometimes they would get one just because. The latest one Jason got was telling him to remind Sam to eat lunch. It was almost as if the family had gained an all seeing, overpowered, ancient being uncle.

Ever since learning about Danny’s halfa status and his own…. whatever he was? It’s hard to pinpoint. He wasn’t exactly a revenant, didn’t fit the requirements of a liminal and didn’t possess the full capabilities of a halfa. But he was still some sort of ecto based being. Tucker had taken it upon himself to try to give it a name. The closest thing Tuck had suggested so far was a zombie but that was flimsy at best. Anyways, after learning the truth, Jason was doing his best to provide for the slightly different needs of himself and Danny as ecto beings.

Bruce had been nice enough to let them put their graves in the Wayne family cemetery. Since Jason hadn’t been dead for very long before he came back so Bruce had never had the time to give him one. And Danny had gone far too long without one according to Jazz. It means a lot to the dead to be honored with a grave, even if they themselves weren’t in it. Bruce had let Jason and Danny design a mausoleum for their name stones to be in. With compartments as if their bodies were in there and everything. Jason tended to just store things in his while Danny sometimes felt better to sleep in his. Jason admitted, being near his grave made him feel better but he was far too big in the shoulders to fit in the compartment. Danny and Jason designed the structure to fit up to 6 bodies, incase anyone wanted to be buried with them in the future.

Jason also started working with the JL to try and dissolve the Anti-ecto Acts. The SCP Foundation was fighting against it hard. Apparently, they saw ecto beings as SCPs that should be under their jurisdiction. Danny’s friends were helping out the case together. Since ecto beings were technically under the rule of their own government. Apparantly JLD was cooking up something so the Ghost King could get involved personally with the help of Sam and Tucker who were on good terms with the guy.

The ambient ecto in Gotham was enough to live off of so it wasn’t too bad but others like them that didn’t live in high ecto areas like Gotham or Amity Park didn’t deserve to not have access to ecto and even more didn’t deserve to hide who they were in order to survive. The ecto in Gotham wasn’t as pure as Jazz said Danny used to work with in Amity and the purer the ecto, the better for the environment and their health.

Danny was turning out to be the little genius. Jason knew that he could still remember things from before he was de aged and apparently, he had a lot of experience with mechanical engineering. He was working with Tim and Tucker to try and develop a filtration system of sorts to clean the ecto in Gotham. At first, Jason wasn’t so sure about leaving Danny all by himself on the lab. He was only seven after all. But after talking to Jazz about it… he was concerned about other things.

“Well I love his enthusiasm and these blueprints look… oddly professional but he’s only just a kid and if something goes wrong and no one is in the lab with him…” Jason said, sipping his coffee. He wasn’t lying, Danny couldn’t draw artistically to save his life but the moment he needed to draw a blueprint he was suddenly DaVinci.

Jazz who stayed at the manor almost exclusively except for nights where her work took her to a part of town that was closer to Sam and Tucker’s place and it was too late to drive all the way home, looked at the blueprints over Jason’s shoulder while she headed to the kitchen to pour herself her own coffee. “Looks like he never lost that talent of his. Danny could build anything he put his mind to back then. He was even more talented than Mom and Dad. It was too bad that he was always so busy being Phantom that he never got to… well you know… spend time on the things he liked.”

And with that, Jason watched as she walked away to the kitchen. Jason and Jazz were friends. Very good friends. Maybe even best friends. Well… something like that at least. She was nice enough and helped him raise Danny as a mother figure and the two of them hung out a lot. Her room was next to Jason’s so she could be close to Danny but most nights she just crashed in his room. He had an extra bed for her and it was easier to switch out who got up if Danny had an episode in the middle of the night. The two of them had talked about it. It wasn’t like Jason was blind, he knew she was very pretty but he didn’t feel any attraction toward her that went past platonic. She had said she felt the same way and the two of them agreed it would be too weird anyways since he was her brother’s dad. Not many really understood their dynamic but that was okay. It worked for them and Danny.

Jazz came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee and the coffee pot. She filled Jason’s since it was low and he nodded in thanks. He had told her countless times that Alfred preferred to do that stuff himself but honestly this was just their routine in the morning now. He would get coffee and then she would join him, stealing the coffee pot until they were done with it and it was time to wake Danny for the day.

“I know that… but I don’t know… I worry,” Jason said. He knew it wasn’t a logical fear that he would get hurt. Halfas didn’t get hurt because of mortal causes like metal or, well, a stab wound. Jason may or may not have tested it on himself and sure enough he was also pretty immune. Just needed some ecto and it healed right up with no pain like it never happened.

Jazz just smiled softly, “I know you want him to have a normal childhood. As much as we can give him. But given both of our pasts, I’d say we are far past that. All that matters now is that he gets to experience the things he never got to the first time around.” She was right of course, sipping her coffee lazily.

“Okay yeah… in this family I have seen kids to weirder things. Once we wake up our star for the day, we can tell him he can build his machine. I would just prefer that he had someone with him while he tinkered,” Jason responded. When it came to things like this, he knew that Jazz knew Danny better than he did. She knew him before he was deaged and knew what kinds of things he missed out on.

She smiled at Jason, “You are a good dad Jason. I can see your self doubt in your eyebrows. You are doing just fine.” She rubbed his back comfortingly while the two of them looked at one another, Jason acknowledging that she’s right and that he needed that, Jazz acknowledging his need for comfort. After the moment passed, Jazz left to wake up their little star.

“Well then,” Jason turned his head to see Stephanie indulging in her peanut butter and oreos craving. She was standing next to Tim who had just stolen the coffee pot for himself.

“What now,” Jason asked.

“I just don’t get it is all. She likes you and you like her. And yet you refuse to fuck!” Stephanie shrugged as she shoved more cookie into her face.

Jason simply gestured toward her belly, “I don’t think you get room to talk right now.”

Tim spit out his coffee laughing.

…

Tim was at the Batcomputer looking over the next case he and B were gonna looking into. It was fun and all but he almost felt like he needed more of a challenge… like… something to do. School was too easy and he ahead already finished the work for the rest of the year. He was even considering starting next year’s work but he was going to have to ask Babs or Tucker to hack to the system into letting his online course end early so he can start the next ones. He could do it himself but he was going to be busy on patrol tonight.

As of right now though? He was playing babysitter so Danny could nerd out on his ecto machine. The “lab” Danny asked for was just a small corner of the Batcave that Danny had set up with an almost kitchen like feel except instead of an island in the center, it was a hunk of metal pieces fused together that made weird noises sometimes. Tim understood the bare bones of what Danny was building, it was a typical filtration system but how it was supposed work with ecto? Not Tim’s area of expertise. He was just there so that if Danny needed help or if something happened, he could call Jason. Nothing had ever happened before and Danny was fully capable of handling it all by himself but it was mostly so Jason wouldn’t have a heart attack.

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts when her heard a swoosh next to his head. “Danny, what did we say about flying in the cave?”

He watched and Danny became visible, his head poking out from behind the massive screen, “Give a warning and don’t touch anything that’s not mine…” Danny said, pouting, “But I have something to tell you Tim!”

Tim thought about this for a moment. Knowing Danny, it was either something interesting, what category of interesting was yet to be seen but Danny wasn’t like normal kids that said things that had no meaning. He could hear Danny out. Now was there a large chance that something very concerning about his past life was about to come up that he couldn’t share with Jason lest his brother have an aneurysm. Tim was willing to roll those dice.

“Okay Spooky, what’s up?” he said.

Danny clapped happily, phasing through the computer to fly right up to Tim’s face, “Stephanie needs your spleen!”

Well… not what Tim was expecting. But it was worth asking about further. At the very least he wanted to know what this child had to say about it before coming to his own conclusions.

“Elaborate?”

Danny laughed, unnervingly happy about this whole thing, “I asked this doctor ghost I know to watch over Stephanie for me! He’s very nice! Told me about how he used to treat Grand-B when he was sick before he died! Anyways, he told me all about Stephanie’s condition and he says that even though most people can live without a spleen, Steph’s blood is kind of weird so living without one isn’t possible for her. She’s having her baby right now upstairs and even though the ghost doctor said that she will okay after giving birth for now, her spleen will eventually finish necrotizing and once enough of it is gone, she will probably die which sucks because she’s going to be a cool mom. Anyways, you’re the only one in the house that is enough of a match that can save her and can also live without your spleen because you’re really healthy! It’ll be super easy though since I’m a ghost, I can do it super quick. Steph might be more liminal after and her eyes might glow sometimes, but that’s okay!”

Tim jumped out of his seat, “She’s having her baby RIGHT NOW?!”

Danny nodded smiling, “Yes! Upstairs! She went into labor really fast so she didn’t have time to go to the hospital.”

Tim shook his head, running toward to the stairs, “Priorities Danny! I promised her I’de be there!” Tim ran as fast as he could into the manor and through the halls.

“Is it because you like her?” Danny asked while flying along side him.

Tim scoffed, “Danny, my wildly inappropriate crush on who’s practically my sister has nothing to do with this!”

Danny’s smile never left his face as he kept flying along at Tim’s side, “It’s okay, I know you like boys too so you can just get a boyfriend and get over her!”

Tim almost halted in his steps but he didn’t, “Danny! Not the time!”

Danny laughed in that spooky way he did sometimes, “Okay!”

Tim kicked Stephanie’s door open and ran to her side, holding her hand, “I’m here! I’m here!”

Steph shot him a glare as she immediately began to squeeze his fingers, “You are late Timothy.”

Tim apologized as the blond began screaming in pain. The only one in the room besides the two of them was Alfred who had decided to deliver the baby himself. Was there anything that guy didn’t know how to do? Steph didn’t seem to be on any pain meds or any sort of epidural so she was muscling her way through this like the women of old, and she was handling it pretty well even though she was screaming bloody murder.

Tim tried his best to be as supportive as possible, telling her to breathe and ignoring her as she cursed him out repeatedly for telling her what to do. She squeezed his fingers tighter than Tim thought was humanly possible, to the point where they actually went numb as she pushed over and over.

There was no doubt that the entire household was just outside the door waiting for news on the baby’s arrival. The birth seemed to take forever as she kept pushing. Tim had read about how sometimes births could take a while so he wasn’t concerned about that, but he was very concerned about how the longer Stephanie pushed, the more color seemed to drain from her face. She looked as though she was starting to lose consciousness, probably from the pain.

Finally, Tim heard the cry of an infant. The baby was born. Tim looked away as Alfred did what he needed to do to prepare the baby for being held and made sure Stephanie didn’t have any tears or bleeding. He felt as she finally let go of his hand. As the feeling came back to his fingers, he was hit with the realization that she had broken 3 of them.

Once Alfred said everything was covered, Tim looked to Stephanie once again, She was covered in sweat and there was almost no color in her face. It was almost deathly pale, making Tim very concerned. He could see her starting to dip out of consciousness. Was that normal? He took her hand again wit h his unbroken one and tried to get a response from her. He didn’t get it.

“Alfred, I think something is wrong,” Tim said, looking to the butler.

“The Ghost Doctor says that she will be okay, she’s just in shock from the pain. But he also says that her immune system is really weak right now and since we aren’t in a hospital, she has a high chance of getting sick,” Tim heard Danny’s voice say as the boy appeared at the foot of the bed.

“Is there anything that can be done about this Young Master Danny?” Alfred said as he finished cleaning the baby and wrapped it into a blanket.

The seven year old nodded, “Ghost Doctor says that if I help, she will stabilize. I think I should take Tim’s spleen now too.”

Tim just nodded. It wasn’t the craziest thing he’s ever heard. This was the Wayne family. Shit was always crazy.

By the early hours of the morning, Stephanie was happily holding her baby girl that she had named Kore. Jason and Jazz were scolding Danny for not sharing information with them but also telling him how proud they were for helping. Bruce was breathing for the first time in hours. Cass was wrapping up Tim’s fingers. Tucker and Sam were on their way to greet the newest addition to the family. And Tim? Had never been happier to lose a spleen.

[elleandstufff]

Let's Play a Game -`✮´- Part 3

Young and in the club scene due to the family business, you meet an up-and-coming rapper who calls himself Thanos. As the two of you become deeply embedded in the dark world of fame, money, and drugs, you begin to wonder if you can make it out alive. Pre-games, during the games, and post-games Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: Club setting, moderate drinking, your friends suck, sneaking around (and getting caught…), protective!Thanos (he knows how to fight and is not afraid to), fluff/cuteness, you meet his mom, reader gets a migraine at one point, SMUT, oral (both receiving), p in v, squirting, soft dom!Thanos, creampie (reader has IUD), tummy bulge/tummy pressing, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is a sex crier but I wouldn’t classify it as dacryphilia, aftercare, soooo many pet names, there’s a lot going on, okay? Dialogue written in bold italics is spoken in English, 5.4k words

Note: If you don’t like smut you can skip that section and the story will still make sense (this goes for all future chapters as well). Otherwise enjoy <3

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

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Your name being called pulls you away from swiping through pictures of you and Su-bong. For the last three weeks, you spent every night at the club with him watching his performances and then sneaking around together. During the day the two of you texted constantly. The two of you hadn’t yet put a label on your relationship, but you considered him your boyfriend. It all felt a bit juvenile, but for once you were happy that someone was willing to show that they wanted you for you. 

“Sorry, what?” you ask after your name is called once again. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for five minutes,” your friend, Eun-yeong says from behind the driver’s wheel. She was the daughter of one of your father’s business partners, so you had been friends by default for quite a while.

“She’s been obsessed with her phone ever since she started dating that rapper. Oh, wait, they’re not even dating yet,” Eun-yeong’s twin sister, Han-na, says. 

Eun-yeong snaps back at her sister. “We’re adults now. You don’t have to officially ask anymore.”

“You have to at least kiss,” Han-na says. 

“I don’t know… I think it’s kinda nice we’re taking things slow,” you mutter while looking out the car window. “I’ve never had anyone be genuinely interested in me without some kind of ulterior motive.”

Han-na looks back at you from the front seat and you shrink back, feeling like a little kid being scolded. “He’s twenty-five, babe. By this point you should practically be living together. Our older sister fucked her husband within, like, an hour of meeting him.” 

“I don’t think it has to be like that-” 

Eun-yeong squeals, cutting you off. “We need to stop and get Miss Social an energy drink so she’s not spacing out like last time.” 

You don’t want an energy drink, but Eun-yeong stops the car to let you and Han-na hop out of the car as she drives it around the block waiting for you two. You enter the little convenience store and pick out an energy drink to appease your friends. You get in line and as the person in front of you walks off an unexpected face comes into view. 

Behind the checkout counter, Su-bong looks like he’s seen a ghost. The t-shirt and work vest he wears are much different than the clothes you’re used to seeing him in, but you’d recognize his brown eyes and hand tattoos anywhere. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. 

“Yeah, I kinda need money…” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. 

You reach to hand the can forward for him to scan, but he pushes it back toward you with a smile. “It’s on the house.” 

“Ugh, come on. Eun-yeong is bitching because there’s some dude on her ass.” Han-na comes to your side with her face buried in her phone. She finally looks up and takes in the cashier. When she recognizes who it is, she makes a face. “Ah, this is your friend…” 

“I’ll see you tonight!” you can barely get out as Han-na is dragging you outside. 

As you wait outside, Han-na looks at you like you’re stupid. “You could do so much better, babe. You’re wasting your time on a wannabe rapper who works at a convenience store and hasn’t even kissed you yet when you could have ten of Korea’s richest men at your door tomorrow. We gotta work on this at lunch.” 

Eun-yeong pulls the car up and Han-na gets in. They roll the window down when you remain frozen in your spot on the concrete. 

“You guys go ahead,” you tell them through a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not really feeling well. I’m just gonna call a driver to come pick me up.” 

You try to ignore their angry whatevers as they pull away and you go back inside the store. “Forget something?” Su-bong asks. 

“Yeah, you,” you joke. “No, my friends are just mean. I’m going to call a driver to come pick me up, but my dad isn’t expecting me home for another hour…” 

“Well, in that case…” Su-bong opens the door to behind the counter, beckoning you in. He sits down and you join him on his lap. The second a customer comes in you’ll hop off, but for now it’s just you and him. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ 

That night, your father has a last minute business ordeal that will keep him away for a week. Against your wishes, he orders your brother, Tae, to come and keep an eye on you. He gives Tae strict instructions on how to watch you that you immediately know you won’t be following. 

“Please just let the driver take you to the club tonight,” your brother asks. 

“This will be the first time I’ve ever driven to the club myself,” you say. “Besides, what was the point of him buying me a nice car if I never get to drive it anywhere?”

“Fine, just be careful. And don’t let Dad know.”

You are, in fact, very careful. When you arrive at The Social, you take special care to wipe down the car from any puddles you drove through. 

Once Su-bong arrives you launch yourself into his arms, unable to contain your excitement. He hugs you back, but you can tell he holds back since you’re both so used to having to sneak around. 

You pull away with a massive smile. “My dad had to fly to Tokyo for the whole week!”

The rest of the night is everything you could have hoped for. There’s no need for the two of you to hide, and you somehow feel closer than ever before. 

Right at four in the morning as security clears the building of any stragglers and the lights come on, Su-bong whispers an interesting proposition into your ear. “I don’t work tomorrow. How about you come stay at my place tonight?”

You start to say that you can’t because of your dad, but then you remember that he’s not here to control your every move. You excitedly accept his offer. 

He takes your hand in his after you get your keys and you’re almost out of the building before you hear your name being called. You turn to see your brother. 

“Where do you think you’re going now?” He asks. He looks from you to Su-bong then down to where your hands are intertwined together. 

You notice your brother’s quirked brow and you speak up. “Oh, this is Su-bong. Su-bong, this is my brother, Tae.” Su-bong reaches his hand out for your brother to shake, which your brother does but with suspicious eyes. 

“I’m just gonna stay at his place tonight, okay?”

“No, not okay,” your brother answers. You feel Su-bong’s grip on your hand involuntarily tighten. “I’ve already let you get away with a ton of stuff Dad would kill me for. This is just too far, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Tae, it’s fine. Appa will never know. I’ll be careful.” 

“I will take good care of your sister. I promise,” Su-bong says. 

“Fine,” Tae begrudgingly agrees. “But be careful.” 

You leave the club hand in hand with the biggest smile on your face. Usually you’re stuck here for two or three more hours waiting for your father to finish up what he’s working on. You’re excited to get to sleep earlier than usual tonight, but you’re hoping you might get something else tonight too. 

The early morning air is chilly, so Su-bong slips his jacket off of his body and onto your shoulders. When you reach a puddle on the sidewalk, he promptly lifts you off your feet and over the puddle so you don’t get your nice boots wet. At the car, he opens the passenger door for you and slips the keys from your hand. He slips into the driver’s seat and runs his hands along the leather interior, the dash, and the steering wheel. “Damn, baby, this is nice!”

“Did you ask me over just to drive my car?” 

“Was it that obvious?” 

You lightly shove his arm at his joke. He grabs your hand and sits it on your lap. His hand grips your thigh, where it stays for the duration of the car ride. You’re in heaven by the end of the ride; this is something you could get used to. 

He leads you up to his apartment, and it’s not at all what you expect. He’s a young busy guy, so you expected a basic living room set-up with bare walls and probably an empty take out container or two. Instead, the place is spotless and there’s knick knacks and paintings all over the walls. It’s cozy. 

“This is my casa, baby. You like?” 

“Yeah, it’s great,” you say as you admire the various paintings and porcelain figures. “Didn’t take you for the kinda guy to collect porcelain figurines.” 

“They’re, uh, my roommate’s.” He coughs. 

“Is your roommate a sixty-year-old woman?” 

“Hey, she’s fifty-three.” He says, then pinches his nose. “I live with my mom.” 

You can tell he’s embarrassed, so you just shrug. “I live with my dad.”

“It’s different,” he says. 

“It’s not,” you reassure. You bravely reach for his hand. 

He rubs his thumb over your hand softly, and you see his pupils dilate ever so slightly. “Let me show you my room.” 

His room matches his personality better. The bed is unmade, but not messy. Posters cover the walls. There’s a desk in the corner with papers strewn about that contain half-written raps. 

“Nice posters-” you turn to say to him, but he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. His hands find your waist and you let one hand rest on his chest while the other reaches up to softly tangle in his hair. The kiss is so intense it shows that the two of you are not happy that you waited this long, but now that you have each other you’re never letting go. 

A needy whimper escapes your mouth, and he pulls his lips away from yours to lean down to your ear. “Fuckin’ love those pretty noises, baby. Let’s keep them coming, huh?” 

His grip on your hips tightens as he leads you to the bed. He leans you back on the bed and pulls away with one final kiss. “Gonna make you feel so good…”

He scrunches the fabric of your dress up to your waist, revealing your tiny pair of panties that barely covers anything. He rubs at your clothed clit and it’s nearly enough to make you squeal. He plants kisses all over the insides of your thighs. He’s just about to pull your panties down when you stop him with a quiet wait. 

He pulls away with confusion and concern in his eyes. He climbs over you to be level with your face that you’re shading with your hands out of embarrassment. “What’s wrong my Princess?” 

“When I finish… I make a mess…” 

His smile grows impossibly wide when he realizes what you mean. “Good.” 

He lowers himself back down and presses one slow kiss to your clothed pussy, before he takes the thin band of your panties in between his teeth and pulls them all the way off. He stares at you mesmerized and you instinctively press your legs together. He softly spreads them back open as he takes in your beauty. “So pretty and wet for me…” 

He wastes no time diving right into your wetness. His tongue greedily runs up and down your folds before settling on your overly-sensitive clit. He slowly pushes a finger into your hole and it has you arching your back. “Gotta get you ready for me, sweet girl,” his deep voice comes out muffled because he doesn’t stop or pull away from your pretty pussy. 

Both his tongue and his finger pick up speed and it causes your legs to give out and flop onto the bed. He grabs your thighs and locks his arms around them, effectively wearing your thighs as earmuffs. “You taste so fucking good.” 

The combination of his praise and his finger curling perfectly inside of you causes a string of whines and moans to slip from your lips. You’re close and he knows it. “C’mon, baby, let go. Make a mess for me.” 

That’s all it takes for you to gush around his mouth. He groans in ecstasy as he laps up your juices. When he’s finished, he comes back up to you and seals you in a kiss. You won’t meet his eye, so he softly grabs your chin to force you to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed. You did so good for me, my good girl.” 

He starts to slide your dress off over your head but you stop him with a stubborn look. You tug at his shirt and his pants and he realizes what you want. “Since you’re such a good girl…”

He slips his shirt off and tosses it across the room. You trace your finger along his tattoo all the way from his finger to his shoulder where the ink disappears onto his back. He grins at you cockily. “You been waiting a while to do that?” 

You can’t hide your smirk at how fast he’s clocked you. Instead, you tug at his pants which he eagerly shove off. You let him pull your dress off and your bra, leaving you completely bare for him. You lean forward on your elbows toward his painfully hard erection begging to be free from the confines of his boxers. 

He realizes what you’re offering. “You want my cock down your throat, baby?” 

You eagerly nod and he helps you to your knees on the floor. He stands before you and softly cradles your chin in his hand. His thumb runs across your lips and you part them to allow entrance to his digit. He groans as his thumb pushes past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth. You suck on it for a moment, hollowing your cheeks, before he pulls his hand away. You frown at the loss, but he just pats your cheek. “Let’s replace that with my cock, mm’kay?”

He finally pulls down his boxers, and you’re absolutely floored at the sight. You’d felt it pressed against you at the club before, but you didn’t realize it was that big. He smirks at your reaction. “Open up, pretty girl.” 

You happily oblige, and seconds later you feel your mouth being stuffed full of him. He uses his dick to pull and stretch at your cheeks, before he slips both of his thumbs into the corners of your already stretched mouth. He looks down at the sight of you and your mouth stuffed full of him like a man who has won at life. “You look so gorgeous like this… so gorgeous and all mine.” 

He pulls his thumbs out and places one hand at the back of your head. His other hand gently takes yours in his and rests against his thigh. “You tell me if it’s too much, baby.”

His cock shoves deeper into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. His hips start rocking forward and back as his cock slides in and out of your throat. You’re a drooling mess and he can only let out groans and strings of so pretty and good girl. 

He pulls away right as you can tell he’s close and you could nearly cry. You really wanted to taste him. 

“You can taste me next time, honey. I don’t want to finish before I feel your soft insides.” 

He guides you back to the bed where you can do nothing but stare back at him with glazed over eyes. He presses a couple of kisses to your neck before he looks into your eyes. “I don’t know if I trust myself to pull out…”

“Not a problem,” you say, your voice weak. “I have an IUD.” 

“Fuck…” He groans, burying his head in your neck. 

He teases your hole with his tip for a few minutes, loving how it makes you squirm and whine. Finally, he starts shoving into you while maintaining eye contact. The stretch is so overwhelming yet so pleasurable that it leaves your mouth hanging open. You can feel every single inch of him pressing into you so deep. He finally bottoms out and you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Mmm, look at that beautiful sight,” he says and you look down to see a bulge in your tummy from how deep he is. “Can you feel me right here, baby?” He presses a hand down on your tummy where he can feel himself. 

“Feels so good,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes from how overwhelming it all is. 

He kisses the tears on your face. “I know, baby, it’s a lot. But you’re doing good.” 

He starts moving his hips, slowly at first and then at a rapid pace that hits all the right spots. “So fucking tight… you’re fucking clenching me, but you’re taking my dick so fucking well like I knew you would.” 

He has stamina unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. He keeps fucking into you at his brutal pace like it’s nothing, pulling two more orgasms from you before he even gets close to his. But when he gets close you can feel the way he starts twitching inside you and the way his grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me you’re mine,” he grunts in your ear with a particularly hard thrust. 

“I’m fucking yours, forever.” 

That does him in. “I’m about to fill this pussy up. You look me in the eyes when I cum in you.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, but you obey him. He buries himself in you and paints your insides white. He stays inside you, telling you over and over again how well you did, but you’re so fucked out that you just feel him and only him until you come back to Earth. 

Once he slides out of you and back into his boxers your brain starts functioning again. He helps you to the bathroom to clean you up, and you’re glad that he has his own bathroom so you don’t have to walk through his house naked. Once clean, he leaves you for a minute so you can pee while he collects something for you to wear. He returns with one of his t-shirts, a pair of boxers, and a pair of socks. Once dressed he takes in the way his shirt hangs off of you so much. 

“Adorable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wraps an arm around you for stability since your legs are still so shaky. 

“Sorry,” you murmur when you see his bed has been stripped of its blanket. 

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he says sternly. “I put it in the wash, no big deal. What do you want to do now?”

“Watch cartoons…” you say sheepishly. 

“Cartoons?” 

“Yeah… I like to fall asleep watching TV, and they’re usually the only thing left on this early.” 

“If my girl wants cartoons, then cartoons are what my girl gets.” 

He takes you to the living room and the two of you settle into the big recliner with a blanket pulled over you. The recliner is big, but you still have to lay practically on top of him, which is just the way he likes it. You watch the cartoons for not even five minutes before you feel insanely sleepy. 

You look at Su-bong in your sleepiness and don’t even know what you’re saying until after you say it, “I think I love you.” 

You feel like an idiot for saying it so early, the sleep clouding your thoughts. But he just looks back at you with his pretty brown eyes. “I know I love you.” 

You lay your head on his chest with a smile, and within minutes you’re out like a light. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

One minute you’re sleeping soundfully and the next you’re being awoken by the sound of a door shutting and blinding lights overhead. You feel Su-bong stirring underneath you before he tenses completely beneath you. Standing before you is a woman smiling ear-to-ear–undisputedly his mother. 

“Mom?! I thought you were staying at your sister’s this weekend?” 

“Oh, I was, but I decided to come home early. You know how she is… always double books plans.” 

You awkwardly sit up as best as you can on the cramped recliner. You’re sure this is a great first impression of you: sitting on top of her half-naked son. It’s clearly obvious what type of night you two had. 

“So?” she asks expectantly. “Are you going to introduce me?” 

The two of you stand and Su-bong awkwardly clears his throat. “Mom, this is my girlfriend.”

You offer her your name and your hand, but she surprises you by nearly squealing and pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh, thank God he finally brought a girl home!”

“Mom…” he groans in embarrassment.

“Hush,” she says, shooing him away with her hands. “Go put some clothes on.” 

You start to follow after him, but she grabs your hand. “Not you honey, you can come with me.” 

You look at Su-bong with wide eyes before following his mother into the kitchen. You take a seat at the table while she starts making breakfast. “I was wondering who he had been texting all this time. It’s nice to finally put a face to the girl.” 

You try to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks. You’re thankful when Su-bong comes back wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but you still feel half naked in his oversized shirt and boxers. “Maybe I should go get dressed too…” 

“Oh, no,” his mother says. “You’re fine. I just wanted him to cover up that god-awful back tattoo.” 

You stifle a laugh. You, of course, adore his tattoo, but his mother’s hatred of it makes you giggle. 

His mother makes you a homemade breakfast which you thoroughly enjoy. Being so busy, most of your meals consist of take-out or random snacks strung together and called a meal. As you eat, the three of you talk. Well, mostly you and his mom talk while he gets embarrassed. 

“Did you see that fancy car in the parking lot?” 

You wipe your face with a napkin. “That’s mine actually.” 

Her eyes grow wide. “Isn’t that so expensive?”

You look between her and Su-bong and clear your throat, unsure of how to answer. “Umm… My father bought it for me. He owns all of The Social clubs in Korea.” 

“Yes, if it wasn’t for my sweet girl, I wouldn’t have the gig at the club.” Su-bong smiles at you in an attempt to make you feel better.

His mom’s eyes grow even wider, if that’s possible. Then her shoulders slump as she looks around her kitchen. “Sorry, I know our house isn’t much…”

This is exactly the type of reaction you didn’t want, but you can’t blame her. It’s only natural. You only hope that this won’t be the only thing she thinks about you. 

“Your house is perfect,” you tell her. “It feels so much more like a home than my house.” 

She takes your hand. “Well, you’re welcome here anytime.”

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Much to your brother’s dislike, you spend pretty much every night at Su-bong’s for the rest of the week. The last night before your father comes home you come down with a terrible headache. You try everything from medicine to rest to a hot shower but nothing works. By evening you have to text Su-bong and let him know you won’t be able to come to the club tonight. He’s disappointed, but understanding of course. 

Shortly after the club opens, you start to feel better. You know better to risk heading to the loud environment of the club, so you just accept your fate that you’ll be sleeping alone tonight. After a while of watching stupid videos on your phone, you swear you’re hearing things. You hear the sound again. It almost sounds like… someone is throwing pebbles at your window. 

You hop off your bed and head to the window where the noise is coming from. Sliding the window open, you see none other than your boyfriend standing on the ground below with a handful of rocks. 

“What on Earth are you doing here?” 

“Not gonna let my girl sleep alone tonight, especially when she doesn’t feel well,” he says, grinning. “Can I come up or what?”

You laugh and usher him up. He scales the climb pretty easily and then he’s in your room–something you never thought would be possible. 

“How’d you know where my house was?” you ask him as he admires your room. 

“I just checked your location on my phone and I figured neither your father nor any of your brothers’ rooms would have Hello Kitty stickers on the window…” He gestures to the stickers adorning your window. 

“Those are old,” you say.

“No, they aren’t.”

The next morning you’re shaken awake to your brother’s panicked face. “Dad is fucking home early! He’s in the driveway right now!” 

You shake away the uncomfortable fact that if your brother knew to warn you, it means that he heard the two of you last night. . .

Tae runs off to try and delay your father while you shake Su-bong awake. You hate to rush him especially when his face is so cute and sleepy, but getting caught with a half-naked guy in your bed would probably be cause for your execution. You gather up all his strewn about clothes and shove him and his belongings into your closet. You lay back down and pretend to be asleep. Without missing a beat, your father comes into your room and sits beside you. You pretend to wake up and rub the sleep from your eye. 

“Goodmorning, Princess. Sleep well?”

“Yes, Appa.”

“Good, your brother said everything went well- Where’s this shirt from?” 

You freeze. You completely forgot you were wearing Su-bong’s shirt! “I just bought it as a sleep shirt.” 

“Ah.” He eyes your room suspiciously. “And why does it smell like a boy’s cologne in here?”

You freeze again. You’re fucked, but you recover quickly. “Boy’s cologne? Appa, how could you be so mean? That’s my new perfume!” 

His face softens. It worked. “Well, maybe stick with your old perfume, Angel.” 

He pats your head and leaves, allowing you to let Su-bong out of your closet. He pulls you into a sad kiss, knowing that your time is up for the morning. You try to shrug his shirt off to return it, but he stops you. “Keep it. It’s your sleep shirt, right?”

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

The next couple months, you successfully avoid your father becoming aware of your secret relationship. You mainly only see Su-bong at the club, but thankfully you have your secret spot that the two of you can sneak off to. 

When it comes to your twentieth birthday, you celebrate secretly with Su-bong the night before by telling your father you were staying the night with Han-na and Eun-yeong. Thankfully you get away with it because your father doesn’t care enough to verify this information with their father. 

The night of your birthday, your father closes down the club and invites your “friends” and they invite their friend’s friends. The club is filled to the brim with people who don’t give a crap about you, but you simply have to grin and bear it otherwise you’d look like an ungrateful brat. You have to literally sneak Su-bong in through the back because there’s no way you could convince your father to invite him without sounding alarm bells. He has to keep his distance, too, so that no one catches on. You spend most of the night shrugging random guy’s arms off of your shoulders. You can feel Su-bong’s eyes on you all night, and you can sense that he’s not happy. You don’t blame him; you’re not happy right now either. 

Toward the end of the night, a particularly insistent guy won’t leave you alone. “C’mon, why won’t you just come out to my car with me? Got something to show you…” 

All of a sudden, the man is shoved into the wall by a livid Su-bong. “You better fuck off before things get nasty, and I wouldn’t want the birthday girl to have to see you get your teeth knocked out on her birthday.” 

The dude rubs at his sore shoulder and starts to leave, but he looks at Su-bong first. “Whatever, dude. She’s not gonna fuck you.�� 

“She already has, idiot,” Su-bong says at the man’s back, but he probably doesn’t hear it. 

You drag him outside to get some fresh air. “You okay? I didn’t want you to see me get violent, but I just couldn’t watch anymore-” 

You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” 

“I'll sneak around my whole life if it means I get to spend it with you.” 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

The next morning you sit at the kitchen table eating your sorry excuse at breakfast when your father comes and sits across from you. From the heaviness in the air, you know something is wrong. “We need to talk.” 

“I’m just going to be blunt. I’m very disappointed in you. I told you not to speak to that boy anymore, but you have been for months. And don’t lie to me more than you already have.”

You feel sick. How could he know? You’ve been so careful. “How? How did you know?”

“I heard there was an issue last night at the club involving you. I checked the cameras. And then I watched old footage. You’ve been with him every night, sneaking away to do God knows what.” The cameras. Of course. How could you be so stupid to not think about that?

“Appa, please! I love him!” You sob. “He’s so good to me!”

Your father’s hand clenches then unclenches. His nostrils flare, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying. “After reviewing the footage and seeing him defending you, I am… considering allowing you to continue seeing him. I’m not going to be happy about it but there are worse men out there, and I’m beginning to realize I can’t control you much longer.”

You tightly throw your arms around your father’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Hey! I said I was considering!” your father yells after you, but it’s too late. You’re already running to grab your phone to tell Su-bong. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Author's Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. In the last couple weeks I went on vacation, accidentally became important at work and got a new position with a lot more responsibility, and there’s the constant onslaught of school assignments. And I’ve been off and on sick for like a month and have no energy </3 ugh! But here it is I hope you like it <3 I will be working on the other parts of this and other works too! I also have an anon request I’m working on. I didn’t forget about you anon! <3

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[bellobambino]

The Safe House - Part 1

fluff to smut in a future fic

Summary: Unnamed female reader's brother seems to be involved with Luigi's disappearance. Her first person POV.

1,045w

AN: So far this is 3 parts. 4th part will be smut. Part 1 here is set up. please leave a reply, just tell me what you think. i'm looking for some constructive crit if u have time. ill post part 2 in a few days.

The Safe House - Part 1

Gravel crunches outside, the unmistakable pop and shift of tires rolling up the driveway. My stomach twists. No one should be here. There are only a handful of people who even know about this place, and none of them are supposed to be showing up right now.

I glance through the studio window, heart hammering, and my breath catches in my throat.

Ben’s car.

My brother’s car.

Holy fuck.

Ben has been missing for three weeks. No texts, no calls. Not even one of those passive-aggressive thumbs-up emojis he overuses. Nothing. Radio silence.

I abandon my paintbrushes, running to the front door, opening it before he even cuts the engine. The cold air bites, but I don’t care.

The property is big, tucked away in Vermont, the trees stretching high and leafless against the late winter sky. It’s a quiet retreat. Remote and away from everything. That’s why I came here in the first place. To be alone for a few weeks and paint.

He slams the car door, looks up, and we just stare at each other for a second, both of us blinking like we’ve seen a ghost.

“What the fuck?” I say first, because that’s all I’ve got. My voice comes out strangled.

Ben runs a hand through his messy hair and exhales sharply. He looks exhausted, thinner, his jaw sharper than I remember. His hoodie is all lopsided. He should not be here.

“Ben, where the hell have you–?”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, cutting me off like he’s just as surprised to see me.

I throw my hands up. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is Uncle Jeff’s place, I’ve been up here for weeks… where have you been? Why haven’t you answered our calls? We’re all worried sick about you!”

He exhales through his nose, glancing past me into the cabin. He looks wired. Restless. He mutters a low, “Fuck,” under his breath.

Then, before I can react, he reaches out, plucks my phone right out of my hand, and turns it off.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I lunge for my phone, but he steps back, slipping it into his pocket.

“We can’t have any electronics on.”

“Ben.” My voice is sharp now. “Give me my phone.”

“Not right now.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Just listen to me.”

I fold my arms tight against my chest. “I’m listening.”

“You need to get cool with some things really fast.”

I go still. A prickle of ice works its way up my spine. Oh fuck.

He’s serious. Like, deeply, fundamentally serious in that way Ben only gets when he knows he’s about to say something I’m really not going to like.

I swallow hard. “What things?”

He looks around, then gestures toward the main cabin. “Inside.”

He moves first, which is smart, because my legs feel weirdly detached from the rest of me, like I’m floating rather than actually walking. Inside the loft, I perch on the arm of the couch. He stays standing. Neither of us speaks.

Finally, I break the silence. “Ben. Talk.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Do you know who Brian Thompson is?”

My stomach drops. “Yeah.”

Ben nods slowly. “So you heard what happened to him.”

The room goes very, very still.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels thick. “Jesus, Ben,” I whisper. “Are you telling me you know something about that?”

He lifts his chin slightly. It’s not an answer, but it is.

I stare at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“it was me,” he says. “And Luigi.”

I feel like I’m gonna be sick.

Luigi.

Lu, who’s been missing for months. I thought he was dead or had dropped everything and moved overseas. I wasn’t the only one who thought this. We all did. Nobody knew where he was. But now Ben is here telling me they knew where he was this entire time, while we all thought the worst.

Nobody has been able to reach Ben since… well, since the Brian Thompson shooting. Now I know why. 

I’m furious but relieved. “He’s alive.”

Ben exhales. “Yeah. He’s alive.”

I almost laugh. Only because my brain can’t process all this information in real-time. He’s standing there, patiently waiting for me to stop freaking out before he drops the next bomb.

“And he’ll be here tomorrow.”

My stomach lurches. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Lu.” He rubs a hand over his jaw, glancing toward the window like he’s checking for ghosts. “He’ll be here tomorrow. This place is good to lay low for a while.”

Fantastic.

I press my hands against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. This is happening so fast. One second I’m up here in Vermont, soaking in the beauty of solitude, then my brother shows up out of nowhere, tells me he’s an accomplice to murder, and that tomorrow, Luigi is going to walk through that door like a ghost returning from the grave.

I push off the couch and follow Ben to the door, catching sight of him popping the trunk. He hauls out a silver suitcase, then another. They’re heavy. My stomach twists.

“What is that?” I demand.

Ben doesn’t look at me. “Stuff.”

Stuff. Awesome.

I should say something. I should demand answers. But my brain keeps skipping ahead to the part where tomorrow, Luigi will be here.

Ben and Luigi were practically inseparable in college, both in the same frat, Phi Kappa Psi. They rushed together, partied together, graduated together. And now they’ve done… this together.

The last time I saw Luigi, it was summer. Some birthday party. We had circled each other all night, and when he finally got me alone, he whispered, “Ben is gonna kill me,” and kissed me. Soft, his hands in my hair, tasting of tequila and maybe the start of something new.

Then he fell off the face of the earth. 

Ben slams the trunk shut, looks at me over the roof of the car. “You good?”

I force myself to nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t press, just hoists another bag over his shoulder and heads inside.

Luigi will be here tomorrow, and I don’t have a clue what to expect.

[rainderthesomeone]

Hot take and possibly controversial opinion…

I think chapter 4 left a lot to be desired, there are still a lot of plot holes regarding Leith peair, Stella and all others responsible for this, Pianosaurs was underutilized, the Yarnaby section was crammed together and very scripted, the Doctor was rushed to the side very quickly, it just feels like there was so much left out and I find it hard to believe everything will be resolved in chapter 5 unless that chapter is going to be 5 hours long XD

Pianosaurs should have been bigger and should have had his own boss fight a short one that was rhythm based with the clashing of keys signaling different attacks, and when he’s weakened enough Doey comes in and eats him that way we can see how ruthless Doey can be.

Yarnabys section should have been more tense and creepy in my opinion.

Huggy showing up was an interesting plot hole, and cliffhanger, Chapter Four for me is alright, great story, just a little rushed and filled with some poorly scripted segments…

Now to the meat and potatoes of this post, Harley aka the Doctor, the man who helped in the creation of the bigger bodies project, the man who actively tested on kids and felt no remorse, the man who actively thought his experiments were flawless as well as the procedure of it all, is working with the prototype? For a egotistical and narcissistic man as him that felt out of no where, zero mention or leading up to it at all, just offhandedly mentioned by Doey and Ollie felt very lazy and forced, personally I was hoping for him to be his own operating entity and not connected to the prototype, Poppy literally says to us in chapter three that Catnap is the last obstacle the prototype has for us, I mean I guess she didn’t know the doctor was still alive or around but Doey and Ollie do so how come there was no mention of that prior?

Im probably being very nitpickey again this is indie horror and its not the most refined of content sine half the audience is children who only watch brain rot videos of it, but mob set up a very good and renewed starting point in chapter three, for chapter four to be slightly mid at best with it’s gameplay, it felt like we were heading in a good direction for poppy playtime to take over Bendy’s spot since the new games meatly is making are in development limbo, once they come out they will probably be bangers.

Anyway back to the doctor and all the other segments that should have gone in a better direction.

Mob should have had the Doctor as this slightly antagonistic hermit character, a man who thought he was in disposable for playtime co, a man who thought he had all the cards in his hands, to be blindsided and tossed out and shoved into a monitor to only be used for information, would probably be more reclusive and agitated as well as tired, he wouldn’t be a ally nor a good guy since there’s no way to excuse all the horrible things he’s done, but he wouldn’t have a side either, his trust and loyalty to others would probably have been destroyed, he wouldn’t be killed off either, think of Glados by the end of portal 2 she just wants us gone, this version of Harley would be the same, he just wants everyone gone and to stop pestering him, plus it would leave him open for any possibility’s of coming back, and maybe there would be some development for him, especially for the prototype, he wouldn’t admit it but deep down he regrets its creation and sees it as the failure of man kind some kinda Jurassic park what have we done shit.

He would very much operate like Glados, throwing things at us to see if they’ll kill us, leading us to things that can probably kill us, once he sees no way of getting rid of us he begrudgingly slightly helps us get us to his location while also continuing to try and kill us, basically some very confusing morals, and then the big boss fight would play out differently how I’m not sure yet, but the doctor would give us an option, shut off his life support system aka his brain, killing him and taking the Omni hand, or spare him, the sparing route would give us a longer chapter and segment with him, he wouldn’t give up his Omni hand but he would show the player how to make there own, it’s a fetch quest pretty much with the Doctor leading us and guiding us to the materials we would need to make it, there would be some banter with him talking to us, messing with us, like Glados destroy enough of his cameras watching us he’ll respond with “You know I can still hear you right?” Do it enough and he’ll stop watching us and or talking to us, leave the cameras alone he’ll drop some lore and secrets, eventually we get the pieces to make the Omni hand and we’re free to leave but not without him chasing us one more time to frick with us, game resumes as normal.

That’s the interpretation I was hoping for slightly, mob has there reasons for underutilizing him, he’s not the main villain he’s just a fun extra character.

I just wish we could have seen more of him oh well.

Here’s my take on what I was hoping for him to look like. Brain in jar works and makes sense but object head was a fun and different design from all the other toys and entities we have run into.

Thinking about writing a fan fic on this interpretation of him…would like to see one? Or is it to cringy?

Welp I’ve yapped long enough back to watching YouTube for the rest of the night lol

What were yall hoping for chapter 4 to have been? What are some things you think could have gone better?

[samwontshare]

@ao3org The entire Sam Wilson fandom showed up to tell you this is bad and racist and you have sidestepped the elephant in the fanfic archive.

I’m sorry, I just can’t be polite when the Orange Menace is trying to dismantle democracy and the fan fic site decides DEI also has to go. You want to be willfully ignorant of the particular racist context of this particular subset of Marvel fandom. This isn’t happening with a white actor as a hypothetical ‘we don’t see color’ straw man, this is happening with a Black actor and Black character that exists within the specific context of a racist fandom history in a racist society, you silly gooses. There was never a real world where Seb or Wyatt were getting the mantle for you to even consider this.

Also you didn’t address that everything got collapsed into Evans’ tag.

If people want to focus on Sam’s movie to find Sam’s content, there is already a movie tag. If I want to find Cap 1 or Cap 2 or Cap 4 fanfic, I can do that already.

This does not to address our mutual concern of making Sam Wilson fanfic easier to find, particularly because the entire fandom has been collapsed into the Evans tag, forcing only Sam Wilson fans to retag everything. This makes continuity extremely confusing when writing about Cap Sam post Endgame. I don’t even understand how we are supposed to categorize the correct fandom when a fic is set between Civil War and Brave New World, one of the most popular timelines to write Sam. This was easily solved with one movie fandom but now throws all of these fics into a canonical limbo where by this tagging system we should be using The Avengers movies (maybe??? Tfatws???) - but this would be convoluted for how the fandom actually uses tags. Even if you’re writing about Steve coming back from Endgame to idk still be Cap, where do you put that fic?? Where would AUs even fit into this? I genuinely don’t know how to tag my Sam fics now.

The Marvels is a crossover of three separate storylines featuring three main characters originating in different mediums in the canon (akin to The Avengers movies fandom). The Peggy Carter short was always intended to be a stand alone story - it was the basis for, but is not part of, the TV series. They are by design separate works. Not to mention the continuity conundrum faced by early Marvel TV shows.

However, Captain America 4 is literally the fourth film in a continuing story arc about the evolution of the Captain America mantle, not just Steve Rogers’ character arc. It is intended to be a continuation, not a stand alone work. There is a reason Steve’s final appearance is in an Avenger’s movies, not the Cap movies - Captain America is more than Steve Rogers. This is why Sam is getting a movie in the first place!!!

My friend got a "response" to the whole splitting the Captain America tag bullshit and wow they just don't care. Literally twisting themselves in knots to justify inconsistent tagging and how they lazily shoved every fucking fic into the Chris Evans tag for no goddamn reason and saying this is actually for the Sam fans when this was never a fucking complaint. The timing is so bad too still. They didn't explain why it happened now instead of when Sam immediately became Captain America. He's been cap for years and you do this shit now? Love how they'd rather pretend they're helping us and try to make excuses so they don't have to exert effort fixing a problem they caused than actually acknowledging the structural racism they just created, whether or not it was intentional. Also? Splitting the Captain Marvel and The Marvels tag smells of bullshit too. They didn't split The First Avenger and TWS into different franchise tags. They didn't split Ironman 1 and 2 into different franchise tags. I wonder what the fucking common denominator is there, huh?

[jamiesfootball]

I’ve been twirling it around in my head how Ted and Jamie had similar but opposite movies assigned to them, both revolving around the concepts of dreaming and waking up, but which are very very different in execution. Like literally so different, that that’s the only common thread they have.

Ted, son of Dorothy, with the Wizard of Oz. Leaving the tornado back home in Kansas and traveling to another world where he builds relationships with people trying to discover the magic in themselves. Something about a road (but also something about quoting Robert Frost’s ‘the road not taken’). Crossing through the Dark Forest. Making his way to the Emerald (Man) City. And we know the point of Oz is that eventually you can not stay in the dream. The shoes you’ve found and worn will carry you back home - you’ve had the power within you this whole time. But it also begs the question: has Ted met the man behind the curtain yet? Or is that man meant to be the reflection of himself, the person - the dad and husband - he always assumed he’d be? Wizard of Oz is ostensibly a story about growth and questioning your belief in the role you’ve been assigned and when you’re ready, seeing who you really are and what the world really is. You had the power all along. The dream is a wonderful place, but it’s closing time and you want to go home. You want to go home.

“There’s no place like home.”

In Nightmare on Elm Street you are never safe in your home. Freddy Krueger hurt and sexually abused kids when he was alive (in the waking world), and after he died preyed on kids when they were asleep (in the dream world). And even when they were awake, the kids were always afraid that Freddy was after them. Jamie is literally afraid of his own Freddy Krueger. There are no magic shoes. There is no exploration of self, no growth, no learning - there is just constant, exhausting vigilance. The only way to kill Freddy Krueger is with fire, and even then he keeps coming back. And that’s the note that every Freddy Krueger movie leaves on. The idea and hope that maybe you’re safe. Maybe this time. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. So you try to enjoy that possibility as hard as you can, as much you can, but it’s forced, because you know deep inside that you can’t truly know that if you’re safe ever again. Because it’s the hope that kills you.

So Ted. Sweet Ted. Amazing Ted with his red heels and his beloved witches and his strange but wonderful companions and his flying monkeys. Ted probably feels like he is wrapping up in Oz, ready to face the wreckage of the tornado head on. He’s ready to leave the dream. And he thinks as he’s talking to a Jamie from his world, a Jamie that has grown so much and who’s so strong and smart and kind, a kid who’s so so brave. Because that’s what Ted has seen. That’s the role he’s played. From his viewpoint, this is how the movie goes.

But that’s not Jamie’s viewpoint. Jamie may have wandered into Ted’s play, but to him if he ever fit in, it was only because he was pretending. Because he was stopping himself from being a prick. Everyone else is great and does great things - it’s Jamie who needs to try harder. Ted’s dream was a great place to hide for a while, but Jamie was never waiting for the slippers; he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. You can’t hide from him. You can’t escape him. And he can even get you in your dreams.

Which is why there’s a point in every Freddy Krueger movie when the victim says they’ve had enough of hiding, and they take some sleeping pills, and they decide to face him head on.

So Ted thinks he’s ready to leave Oz behind and that everyone in Oz will be fine once he’s gone, when actually what he’s accidentally done is given Jamie an idea: to wade into the Dark Forest and confront Freddy Krueger head on. Jamie doesn’t h

Ted and Jamie are talking, but they’re not in the same movie. They’re not in the same genre. They’re both at the end of their movies, ready to face the bad guy, so they think they’re having the same conversation. But they’re not.

And once again I’ve typed so far that I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but there’s definitely. More story there. A climax that hasn’t happened. Another story to explore. Because what becomes of the companions after Dorothy leaves Oz? Even if Jamie defeats Freddy, will he survive to the end of his own movie? Does he make it to the sequel?

Will Roy Kent get to fight his dad like Jason Vorhees? Does he already own a machete, and does he borrow the hockey mask from Van Damme?

Now I’ll just pivot down a different somewhat related path (road):

Shoes.

Isaac literally told Keeley he just wanted to do something with shoes. Something about the shoes. Something about Jamie burning the shoes his mum got him. Something about all the football lads fighting over what kind of shoes they’re allowed to wear, and Dani hating mourning shoes and stealing Rebecca’s soft bright cozy ones that she never wears. Jamie being stuck in his socks at the locker room at Wembley. Roy wearing his colorful socks with the yoga mums. Keeley wearing shoes that out her on eye level with everyone else. Trent’s leopard shoes. All these people in Oz with their fucking shoes or lack thereof.

Dreams!

And shoes!

[bakudekublogblog]

alright I’m bored so here’s my extremely optimistic crack theory: assuming katsuki seeing a vestige means we’ll see him in the vestige realm, when kudo sorted through izuku’s memories he put his forehead on the wall right??

what if izuku is having a crisis about being left quirkless again and vestige katsuki needs to touch foreheads with izuku to show him all his memories of izuku being heroic without a quirk and he tells him “you never needed a quirk. you were always a hero” or something like that because it’s what izuku always needed to hear

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[fridayyy-13th]

wow. not even a week into college and i'm already behind on work. fucking lovely.

[an-theduckin]

Wait shit people might actually care about me

[cosmogyros]

.

[seungminnnie]

.

[iwakuraz]

it's not going too well

[miabrown007]

mal in the grishaverse is to alina what jacob in twilight has been to bella. in this essay i'll...