#I thought of this post the second I sent you that ask

[buttercandy16]

Shadows from the Past

Sequel to "The Bully"

PAIRING: Dark!Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: Your past will never let you go.

WARNING(s): Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Manipulation, Torture, and many more Dark Themes.

Years had passed, but the ghost of Agatha Harkness lingered in your life, her shadow creeping into every corner of your mind. No matter how much distance you tried to put between yourself and her—geographically, mentally, emotionally—she always found a way to slip back in.

High school was behind you, yet the horrors endured in those dimly lit hallways clung to you like old scars that refused to fade. She had turned your formative years into an unrelenting nightmare. Your only solace had been leaving town the day after what happened in the cafeteria, promising yourself you’d rebuild from the rubble she’d left behind.

But escaping Agatha wasn’t as easy as leaving.

Life hadn’t been kind since your departure. You’d scraped by working dead-end jobs: waitressing, retail, data entry. Nothing lasted. Over time, you began to feel cursed. Managers would praise you one moment and fire you the next. Coworkers would smile at you but whisper behind your back. Each dismissal came with the same dismissive refrain: “It’s not a good fit.”

Each time, you wondered what you’d done wrong, what flaw they saw in you that made them push you out. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that it wasn’t just bad luck. It was a feeling that settled deep in your gut: a cruel hand was behind all of this.

You stared at the eviction notice pinned to the cracked wall of your studio apartment. It mocked you, its red letters glaring against the yellowed wallpaper like a physical manifestation of failure.

Thirty days to vacate. Thirty days to figure out where you were going to sleep next. You couldn’t borrow money—you’d already alienated the few friends you had left by constantly asking for help. No family wanted to step in either; they’d given up hope long ago.

Slumping down onto the edge of your creaky bed, you stared at your phone screen, scrolling through endless job postings with no responses. You’d applied to over thirty positions in the past month. Nothing.

It felt personal. Too personal.

That’s when the email arrived.

The notification flashed across the screen, an unexpected break in the monotony. There was no subject line, and the sender’s name was unfamiliar. Normally, you would have deleted it without a second thought. But desperation pushed your fingers to open it.

The message was brief but chilling:

*Dearest [Your Name],

I’ve been watching. It seems life hasn’t been kind to you since our time together. But I can make all of your problems disappear. I can offer you comfort, stability, even a home. All you have to do is come back to me.

Meet me at 845 Blackthorne Drive tomorrow, 8 PM. Refuse, and… well, you know how persistent I can be.*

The blood drained from your face. You didn’t need to guess who had sent it. You knew. Of course, it was her. Agatha.

You closed the email immediately, your hands trembling, bile rising in your throat. You hadn’t heard her name—or dared speak it—in years. You had forced yourself to believe she was a distant nightmare.

But now, the past was staring you in the face, with claws sharpened and fangs bared.

The mansion loomed at the end of a long, winding road, shrouded by gnarled trees that reached toward the sky like skeletal hands. Blackthorne Drive was far enough from the rest of town that it felt completely cut off from reality. The house itself was imposing, its gothic architecture exuding an eerie dominance. The massive iron gates groaned as they opened, as if reluctant to let you pass.

Your car crawled up the driveway. The building grew larger and more menacing with each inch closer. Stone gargoyles leered down from the rooftop, their grotesque forms barely discernible against the stormy evening sky. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark silhouette of a figure standing at the top of the stairs.

Agatha.

She looked exactly as you remembered, though years had polished her beauty into something sharper and more refined. The same piercing blue eyes, the same cruel smirk that had haunted you for so long. Her tailored suit clung to her form, exuding authority and control.

“Right on time,” she said, her voice cutting through the heavy rain like a blade.

You clutched the strap of your bag tightly. “I didn’t have a choice.”

A smile curved her lips, but there was no warmth in it. “You’ve always had a choice, sweetheart. You just never make the right one.”

Her words stirred old memories—memories you had fought to suppress. The cafeteria, the locker defacements, her voice whispering cruel truths in your ear. You had spent years trying to build a wall between you and those memories, and now it felt as if she was tearing it down with every step she took closer to you.

“Come inside. Let’s discuss the terms of your employment,” she purred.

The interior of the mansion was no less intimidating. It was darkly elegant, with rich mahogany floors, towering bookshelves, and ornate chandeliers. Yet there was a suffocating energy that weighed down the air, making it hard to breathe.

“Your duties will be simple,” Agatha said, circling you like a lion stalking its prey. “Clean. Serve. Obey.”

Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of menace in her words. She wanted you to remember who held the power now—if you’d ever had any to begin with.

You tried to protest. “Agatha, this isn’t—”

“Ms. Harkness,” she corrected sharply, her eyes narrowing. “We’re not on a first-name basis anymore, darling.”

Her smirk deepened as you faltered, biting back your words. She reached out, running her fingers along the edge of your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“You’ll find,” she said softly, “that resisting me has consequences.”

The first month in Agatha's mansion blurred into an endless cycle of humiliation and despair. Each morning, you woke to a rigid schedule outlined in excruciating detail. Agatha handed you the list herself, her fingers grazing yours as she delivered it with a sly smirk. It wasn’t just work—it was a gauntlet designed to test your limits.

The tasks were mundane in concept but laced with subtle malice. Polishing the marble floors until they reflected like glass was a daily occurrence, though she ensured new scuffs appeared overnight. Preparing her meals required precision to an absurd degree: the perfect temperature, perfect presentation, and even the placement of silverware had to match her exacting standards.

She monitored your every move, ensuring you were always within her grasp. Every task she gave you became a test of your endurance, every failure an opportunity for her to assert dominance.

One day, she ordered you to scrub the kitchen floor on your hands and knees. The task was grueling, the heat from the stove making the air heavy as you worked. Agatha leaned casually against the counter, sipping wine as she watched you struggle.

“You missed a spot,” she said idly, pointing to an invisible imperfection.

Your hands trembled as you scrubbed harder, the muscles in your arms burning with the effort.

“Pathetic,” she murmured, her voice low and mocking. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

You paused, your breath hitching as her words dug into your skin like needles.

“I see someone who was nothing before I came into her life,” she continued, her voice sharp. “You think you’ve suffered? You have no idea what suffering is.”

Her words lit a spark of defiance in you, even as tears stung your eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” you choked out, your voice raw with emotion. “What do you want from me?”

Agatha crouched beside you, her cold blue eyes locking onto yours.

“I want you to realize that you belong to me,” she said softly, her hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You always have. And you always will.”

Agatha began finding excuses to pull you away from your duties, insisting on long, tense dinners where she dissected every aspect of your life. She pried into your thoughts, your fears, your dreams, twisting them into weapons to control you.

“You’ve always been so weak,” she remarked one evening, her tone almost pitying. “Even back in high school, you needed someone to guide you. You’d have been eaten alive without me.”

Her words reopened old wounds, the memories of her torment flooding back with brutal clarity.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice trembling but defiant. “I was fine until you came into my life.”

Agatha’s smile faltered for a brief moment, her expression hardening.

“Fine?” she echoed, her voice icy. “Do you call this fine?” She gestured to the house, to the life she had engineered around you. “I gave you everything. Without me, you’d have nothing.”

Her words struck a painful chord, but you refused to let her see the effect they had.

“I’d rather have nothing than live like this,” you said, the defiance in your voice wavering but unbroken.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as her control slipped for the briefest of moments.

“Careful, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice dangerously soft. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

Her cruelty wasn’t just about control—it was about possession. She wanted you to feel her presence in every corner of your mind, to know that no matter how far you ran, you would always belong to her.

Her games became more psychological. She’d arrange personal items in your room—things you’d never brought with you, things you’d left behind in high school. A worn notebook you’d written in during freshman year. A bracelet you hadn’t seen in years. Each item was a reminder that she had always been watching, always waiting.

One evening, she cornered you in the kitchen, her hands bracketing your body against the counter. The faint scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the oppressive tension.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she said, her voice dripping with mock concern. “Are you unhappy here, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer.

Her hand cupped your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Do you know why no one wants you? Why every door you’ve tried to open has been slammed in your face?”

Her smirk deepened as your silence stretched. “Because I made it so.”

Your heart sank, the weight of her confession crushing you. Of course, it had been her. Every rejection, every failure, every lost opportunity—it had all been orchestrated by her.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

She leaned in, her breath ghosting over your ear. “Because if I can’t have you, no one can.”

The second month in the mansion was worse. Agatha’s punishments became more invasive, more intimate. She began to invade your space with increasing frequency, her touch lingering longer than necessary—a hand brushing against your arm as she passed, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re mine,” she reminded you constantly, her voice a low purr that sent chills down your spine. “I’ve always loved you, you know. Even back then.”

Her twisted idea of love suffocated you. She wanted you to break, to surrender, to accept her as the center of your world.

And yet, there were moments of terrifying vulnerability in her eyes. Moments when she looked at you not with malice, but with a desperate longing that bordered on obsession.

“You don’t understand, do you?” she whispered one night, her hand resting on your cheek. “I did all of this for you. To protect you. To keep you safe.”

Safe. The word felt like a cruel joke, given the hell she had put you through.

What little humanity she offered was just as terrifying as her cruelty. Late one evening, you collapsed against the counter, your muscles aching from scrubbing floors for hours. Agatha appeared behind you, her presence announced by the familiar scent of lavender and something darker—whiskey, maybe.

She placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it just enough to make you stiffen. “I can ease this for you, you know,” she said, her voice soft yet sharp as a knife. “All you have to do is surrender.”

You didn’t dare ask what she meant, but you could see it in her eyes. Agatha didn’t just want your service. She wanted every part of you: body, mind, and soul.

When you flinched away, she sighed in mock pity. “You’ll see eventually,” she murmured. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re mine entirely.”

It was a game to her, an amusement at your expense. She thrived on your frustration, your exhaustion, the trembling in your hands as you tried—and inevitably failed—to meet her impossible demands.

Agatha ensured you were utterly dependent on her. The mansion was isolated, far from town, and the cell service was mysteriously spotty at best. Every attempt to reach out for help was met with failure—calls that wouldn’t connect, emails that bounced back.

One night, after weeks of relentless torment, Agatha pushed you too far. She had caught you crying in your room, curled up on the floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and despair. Instead of offering comfort, she stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Look at you,” she said softly, almost tenderly. “So fragile. So weak. You need me, don’t you?”

When you didn’t respond, she stepped closer, crouching in front of you. Her hand reached out, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at her.

“You’ll see it one day,” she murmured. “You’ll see that I’m the only one who’s ever truly loved you.”

Something inside you snapped. All the fear, all the pain, all the years of suffering boiled over in a wave of anger and defiance.

“Love?” you spat, your voice shaking. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

For a moment, Agatha’s mask slipped. Her eyes darkened, her expression hardening into something unreadable. Then, without warning, she grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she hissed, her grip bruising. “Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

Her voice cracked with something raw, something vulnerable, but it only fueled your defiance.

“You don’t own me,” you said, the words trembling but firm.

Agatha’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Oh, darling,” she whispered, her voice low and menacing. “I already do.”

You should’ve left. Walked out the front door that very first day and refused to let Agatha Harkness tighten her grip on your life. But desperation binds people, ties them to their torment in cruel, unyielding knots. You were broke, friendless, and hopeless. Agatha knew this. She had engineered this.

One day, driven by an overwhelming need for freedom, you slipped out of the mansion while Agatha was occupied in her study. You didn’t have a destination, only an overwhelming desire to breathe air that wasn’t tainted by her presence.

But you didn’t get far.

A black car pulled up beside you within minutes. The windows rolled down, revealing Agatha’s ice-cold gaze.

“Tsk, tsk, darling,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet night. “Running away without saying goodbye?”

Her driver opened the back door, and Agatha stepped out, stalking toward you with the predatory elegance you had come to fear.

“I warned you,” she whispered, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. “There’s no escaping me.”

The ride back to the mansion was silent. Her grip never left your wrist, her nails digging into your skin. When you arrived, she led you inside with a calm, almost detached demeanor.

“I thought I was being kind,” she said once you were inside, closing the door with a resounding click. “Letting you work for me instead of keeping you locked away. But it seems you need to learn your place.”

Agatha’s grip on your wrist tightened as she pulled you closer, the dangerous gleam in her eyes making your heart race with equal parts fear and anger. She exuded control, towering over you not just physically but emotionally, the years of torment heavy between you like an anchor.

“You say I don’t own you, but here you are.” Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but her words dripped with venom. “You came to me, desperate, broken… and I welcomed you. I gave you purpose. Don’t you see?” She leaned in, her lips just brushing your ear. “You were always meant to be mine.”

The suffocating weight of her words threatened to overwhelm you. Agatha had taken everything from you—your independence, your sense of self, and now, even your will to fight. You stood there, frozen, as her fingers brushed along your jawline, a twisted facsimile of tenderness.

But there was no love in her touch. Only possession.

“You owe me,” she whispered, her face inches from yours. “You owe me everything. And you’re not going anywhere.”

That night, Agatha removed every shred of freedom you had left. No phone. No access to the outside world. You weren’t her maid anymore. You were her prisoner.

The days that followed were a blur of torment and submission. Agatha’s control tightened around you like a noose, her presence suffocating every moment of your existence.

One evening, as you lay in the cold, sterile confines of your room, a realization washed over you: there was no escape. Agatha had trapped you in her web, her obsession consuming you completely.

And in the depths of your despair, a horrifying truth began to take root.

You had fought so hard to resist her, to maintain your independence, but the constant push and pull of her control had worn you down. You were no longer the person you had been, no longer the girl who had dreamed of freedom and a fresh start.

You were hers.

And she knew it.

Agatha stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the hallway lights.

“You’re finally starting to understand,” she said, her voice soft but triumphant.

Tears streamed down your face as you looked at her, your defiance crumbling under the weight of her control.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Agatha stepped into the room, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Because,” she said, her voice tender and possessive, “you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted. And now, you’re mine.”

The moment your defiance crumbled, it felt like death. The person you had fought to hold onto, the fragments of your former self that Agatha hadn’t destroyed, slipped from your grasp like sand through your fingers. What replaced them was something darker—a hollow version of you, shaped by her control and your desperation to survive.

Agatha stood over you, a predator basking in her triumph, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watched the tears streak your face. Her hand cupped your cheek, the possessiveness in her touch both suffocating and strangely comforting.

"That's it," she whispered, her voice soft as velvet. "No more fighting. No more pretending you're anything other than mine."

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you let your body sink into the bed, limp and resigned, as she leaned in, brushing her lips against your temple. The gesture was almost gentle, but it only served as a reminder of the power she held over you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick with unspoken truths, with the undeniable reality of what you had become. You hated yourself for it—for the small, treacherous part of you that found solace in her touch, that craved the twisted sense of stability she provided. Agatha had broken you down to the point where even her cruelty felt like love.

And that was what terrified you the most.

Agatha’s dominance over your life grew even stronger after that night. She no longer needed to coerce or threaten you—your surrender had made that unnecessary. Instead, she began to blur the lines between control and affection, lacing her cruelty with moments of twisted kindness that left you reeling.

She bought you expensive clothes, dressing you in fabrics that felt like cages. “You look stunning,” she would say, her tone dripping with approval. “Perfect for me.”

She demanded your presence during her late-night dinners, insisting that you sit beside her as she drank her wine and recounted the day’s events. Sometimes, her hand would rest on your thigh, her grip firm but not painful, a constant reminder of her claim over you.

Other times, she would pull you into her lap, her arms wrapped around you like steel bands. “Tell me you belong to me,” she would whisper, her breath hot against your ear. And every time, you would nod, your voice trembling as you gave her the answer she wanted.

“I belong to you.”

Over time, the resentment that had once burned brightly within you began to dim, replaced by a numb acceptance of your new reality. Agatha’s world became your world, her needs and desires shaping every aspect of your existence.

She began to soften in subtle ways, her sharp edges smoothing out as she reveled in her victory. She would brush your hair before bed, her fingers gentle as they combed through the strands. She would trace the scars on your wrists from past despair, her lips pressing against them as she murmured, “You’re safe with me now.”

It was a cruel irony, the way she twisted the concept of safety to mean submission. But in your fractured mind, her words began to hold a strange kind of truth. Agatha had stripped you of everything—your independence, your identity, your dreams—but she had also filled the void she had created. Her presence, as suffocating as it was, had become the only constant in your life.

One night, as you lay beside her in bed, her arms wrapped around you like a cage, you found yourself leaning into her touch. The realization hit you like a blow to the chest—you no longer hated her as fiercely as you once had.

“I hate you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the darkness. But the tears that slid down your cheeks betrayed the lie in your words.

Agatha’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she tightened her hold on you. “No, you don’t,” she murmured, her voice filled with twisted affection. “You just hate how much you need me.”

And in that moment, you knew she was right.

Your days bled into weeks, then months, until time became meaningless. The life you had once imagined for yourself—a life of freedom, of love untainted by pain—faded into the background, a distant memory overshadowed by the reality of your existence with Agatha.

She had transformed you into exactly what she wanted: a creature entirely dependent on her, bound to her by a dark and unshakable connection. And as much as you despised what you had become, a part of you—small and desperate—began to find comfort in the life she had built for you.

Agatha, for her part, seemed utterly satisfied. She no longer needed to assert her dominance with cruelty; your surrender had solidified her victory. Instead, she began to lavish you with affection, her gestures laced with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl and your heart ache.

“You’re mine forever,” she would say, her lips brushing against your temple as she held you close. And every time, you would nod, the words leaving your lips like a prayer.

“I’m yours.”

But deep down, a tiny spark of defiance still flickered within you, buried beneath the layers of submission and survival. It was a fragile thing, easily snuffed out by Agatha’s overwhelming presence, but it remained—a reminder that, no matter how deeply she had claimed you, a part of you still longed for freedom.

And as you lay in her arms, her breath warm against your skin, you couldn’t help but wonder: would that spark ever be enough to set you free? Or were you destined to remain trapped in her web, a willing prisoner of her dark and twisted love?

Agatha’s voice broke the silence, her words soft but commanding. “Say it,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “Say you love me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you hesitated, the weight of her command pressing down on you like a vice. And then, with tears streaming down your face, you gave her what she wanted.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words tasting like ashes on your tongue.

Agatha’s smile was triumphant as she pulled you closer, her arms tightening around you in a suffocating embrace. “Good girl,” she purred. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

And in that moment, you realized the horrifying truth: you didn’t want her to.

[doberbutts]

hello! I'm the one that sent you that ask a week or so ago. Sorry I didn't check to see if you'd answered for a while because I was just so upset and had to take a second. I will say I scrolled through a bunch of helpful posts you reblogged before I even found the ask again that helped a LOT.

Two things I thought you might want to know is that it wasn't speculation that you'd blocked the weirdo blog that sent me your way: they literally have "proudly blocked by doberbutts" in their bio which was why i felt safe coming to you lmao. Second is I guess my struggle with this issue was an overall struggle with how bad wider misogyny has gotten in general and how muddied it's gotten with the "male loneliness crisis" and like, centering men's issues under patriarchy and just how insanely upset it's been making me. Seeing cis MRAs identify with trans men freaked me out because like, yeah it's important to talk about how (cis) men suffer under patriarchy but it's just so rare for me to find men do that without devolving into misogyny, and I start to feel so helpless because I know validating these issues matter but women are being literally dehumanized openly. I do play oppression olympics with this specific issue and just of COURSE women suffer more under patriarchy, but the same men who demand space to air how they suffer won't acknowledge that truth. (sorry for soapboxing; some of them do! It's just...things are so bad for women rn lol it's really hard to have compassion when it feels like none is being given to me).

So the more I see this issue the more I think people are being affected by larger misogyny like I am, but are doing the typical thing that happens where you lash out at a group you can "reach." Policing and harassing trans men's behaviours is way easier than cis men. I've also been seeing some parallels between this discourse and the "gay men vs lesbian women" discourse. It's not really a one-to-one but the discussion of the role of misogyny re homophobia towards gay men who still have male privilege but, come on, if they have feminine affectation it's Different and the back and forth that used to happen when gay men and lesbian women did oppression olympics, it just feels similar.

idk as i type this I hope I don't come across disingenuous or like, my Too Casual Overly Respectful tone is trying to subtly incept you. I worry my vibes are too "women first" but I just can't help it misogyny really is ruining my life 😭. Anyways I'm very grateful for your perspective and your blog. I feel more settled and equipped to push back against anti transmasculine behaviour with rhetoric that can actually challenge people

To respond to each point in turn:

1: Again I still don't really know who that is, though I am somewhat bemused by the idea that someone I clearly don't really remember is still so obsessed with me that they're proud I've blocked them. For the record, my block list is as follows: people who send anonymous hate, people who continue to harass me after I've told them to stop, people I catch with posts containing inexcusable bigotry, obvious trolls, self-identified zoophiles and MAPs, and people who repeatedly send me fundraisers after I have already said I only share fundraisers from people I know and trust. Being on my block list is, um, not really good company, so it's kind of funny to me that someone is proud to be there. Yeah I'm sure they'll fit right in with the neo-nazis and dogfuckers and cyber bullies. Oh and I guess my ex but I only blocked them after they started harassing me about our failed relationship years later. Enjoy block hell I suppose.

2: I'm not really here to play who has it worse, not because I don't recognize the wider understanding of privilege vs oppression but because I think it is a self-defeating thread of thought because you will always find a "more oppressed" example, and I think that people should be allowed to talk about their hurts regardless of their status of "more oppressed" vs "less oppressed". Talking about the ways society has hurt them is not what makes MRAs dangerous. What makes them dangerous is who they blame, how they go about fixing their problem, and the solutions to their problems they come up with.

To be quite frank, the majority of MRAs are men who have experienced some form of social rejection or isolation. Most have been sold some patriarchal lie about how by being men they inherently deserve good sex with hot women on demand, a wife at home to keep barefoot and pregnant, a high paying job where they are respected and valued regardless of the effort they themselves put into it, and all the luxuries that lifestyle can afford. This is a fantasy, you and I both know it. And when these men realize the hard reality that we live in an age of extreme social isolation, that in order to have a partner you need to actually have more personality than a used dishrag and with only half the mess at max, that good sex is about give and take and not just yourself, that these high paying jobs are few and far between with most takers being born into some level of wealth rather than any merit they themselves have earned... they lash out.

It does not at all help things to understand that many of these MRAs are themselves marginalized in some way, but their framework not only doesn't let them see it but also advocates a harsh rejection of anyone who is self-aware enough to realize it. A lot of these guys are undiagnosed, have trauma, and are just as affected by the systems of racism, classism, homo- and trans-phobia, xenophobia, sexism, and ableism as the rest of us.

Quite frankly, I'd rather these dudes see a group of (trans) men fighting for our place in society by joining hands with other activists with more feminist, black-friendly, disabled-friendly, gay- and trans-friendly in an attempt to lift everyone out of the pit rather than continuing to fight over scraps... than to see them continue to blame women and Jews and then go shoot up a school or a mall about it. One of these helps. The other just kills people and excuses rape. There's a lot of value in deradicalizing people by offering them a path to resolving their pain that is perhaps less destructive and more constructive.

This is also why the constant comparison to MRAs annoys me. MRAs kill people in senseless acts of terror and despair because they're upset that they're not having the sex fantasy the patriarchy sold them. Trans men talking about our oppression- regardless of the word we use to express it- are mostly talking amongst ourselves about suicide and rape statistics and sharing ways to get hormones and surgery despite unwilling doctors and insurance companies. We're talking about how our social groups rejected us the moment we came out, or how people use us being men against us in ways that was not happening before we came out or passed. These are not at all equivalent conversations.

3: Again I ask you- I see people using both cis and trans feminist frameworks to hurt other people. Where is your concern for that? I am equally concerned about TERFs as I am about MRAs, as they have driven multiple transgender people and our allies to suicide and even have committed acts of violence against people irl as a result of their ideology. Most TERFs will also be the first ones to tell you that they have been hurt, deeply, by men and that they also are frequently undiagnosed or untreated, traumatized, and affected by the same systems of oppression. Does their existence and their determination to latch onto every feminist conversation including those of people who are staunchly against them then poison all feminism to you? If not, then why make that distinction for trans men and MRAs?

I am black. I am Indigenous. I am transgender. I am gay. I am disabled. I am poor. I suffer. People hurt me. I see every day how bad things are. Do you think I cannot see it, or that my ignorance is the reason for my request for compassion? Perhaps consider that it is rather my knowledge and my lived experience that fuel my call for compassion, instead. I never said it would be easy. But I do think it would make a better world.

4: I do actually agree that it is very similar to the gay man vs lesbian conversation and have said for a while that it's the same queer infighting discussion we've already hashed out for the last 50 or so years, but the target groups just swapped out. It's just butchphobia, it's just biphobia, it's just aphobia, it's just panphobia, it's just nbphobia- it's the same fucking shit over and over and over again. It was shit infighting before and it's shit infighting now. Privilege is a conversation that depends so heavily on context, and the way it has been bastardized by the internet's poor understanding of political frameworks developed by women of color and their allies into cute soundbites and phrases rather than a deep, nuanced knowledge will never fail to annoy me.

Do gay men have privilege over lesbians? As a class, sure, they would have male privilege. But what do we mean by male privilege? The privilege to not worry about being assaulted on the street? To walk home late at night unbothered? To marry who they want, to have the romantic partner they desire, to feel safe within a domestic partnership? You and I both know that doesn't quite match up to the lived experience of gay men worldwide or even here in the "gay paradise" US. How does this interact with other marginalizations? Does a black gay man have privilege over a white lesbian? What happens if he's a drag queen dressed up for an event and she's a butch that passes for cis male? Does that change retroactively if this "gay man" figures out she's actually a transbian 5 years later, and the lesbian is a TERF? I'm not saying this breaks the framework of male privilege- I am saying that sometimes the theory doesn't match the reality, and a nuanced and intersectional understanding is required when talking on an individual scope rather than class politics.

Additionally- as a side note- it is also incredibly annoying to watch people act like privilege = oppressor = dangerous, and oppressed = victim = safe. Privilege, and whether or not you have any, is not a moral indicator nor is it an indicator of the safety of the person you're interacting with. I have privilege over people who cannot walk, because I can. I am not objectively or systemically oppressing people who cannot walk by the use of my legs in my day-to-day life. Oppression is action- if I vote for policies and politicians that removes ramps and safety regulations and provisions to assist wheelchair users? Now I am oppressing people who cannot walk. If I block or move or interfere with the disability aids, if I mock people or assault or harm them, if I dump them out of their mobility aids or break them, that is oppression. The act of climbing the 3 stairs on my front porch to get into my house is a privilege, but the oppression stems from the people who built my house to even have stairs on both exits.

5: lastly to end a very long post, I don't actually think there's any harm in centering yourself when discussing things that objectively affect you, as long as you remember to include others who are affected and let them have their floor to also center themselves when they need to speak up. I am a black trans man. My politics are pretty centered on black feminism. I don't think that is objectively a bad thing. I prefer to let the demographics with similar problems speak for themselves- I would rather my trans fem friends get the mic when they open their mouths, my lesbian friends, my Jewish friends, my latino and asian and arab friends. I don't think there's anything wrong with them centering their own problems and outlooks, as long as they recognize that there's shared space to be had with others who feel similar hurts. I think it's pretty normal to center yourself. I think the difficult thing is knowing when to relinquish the megaphone to someone who's been dying to use it, while you yourself still have so much to say.

[4ranghaes]

i absolutely love the way you write about bnd and how well done ur ot5 post are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

this being said if you’re comfortable i’d love to see your thoughts on how bnd would send nudes/what type of nudes they send and how they’d be about it!! even what type of nudes they’d ask for. whatever you’re up to writing!!

take care of yourself <33

bnd sending and receiving nudes! ੈ✩‧₊˚

ot5 bnd x reader [smut, fem!reader]

a/n - okay i know a lot of these aren’t NUDES but i wanted to add visual references without putting dicks on your tl😭 and these are nicer to receive from boys than cock and ball pics anyway… also i didn’t add reference pics for sending cause i didnt want to limit body type/skin colour for reader !

warnings - NSFW PICTURES UNDER CUT!!!!!! MDNI!!!!

sungho🎀

sending - so originally, i thought about teasing photos taken in the mirror, revealing stomach and v-line but now, after looking, i think sungho would revel in sending you pics like this, showing off his body he’s so proud of and works so hard on, especially taken at or straight after the gym… however, i would say i think he’d still send v-line pics (not pictured) just like how he posts mirror selfies, you can see everything from his beautiful face to his slim stomach, happy trail leading down to his pubic hair, leading to the base of his dick and nothing more. ughhh omg i need him

receiving - sungho’s so sweet he’d never want to pressure you into sending nudes, even though he loves receiving them. seriously he’d never ask for them, any nudes sent are completely of your own free will. having said that, you’ve come to figure out what he likes and doesn’t like, and what he likes is thigh pics. panties, lingerie and BOWS WRAPPED ROUND YOUR THIGHS! he loves when you’re kneeling, thighs and stomach included in the pic. he also would love the classic mirror selfie in underwear, doesn’t matter if it’s fancy or not - he just loves seeing you on display for him.

riwoo🦦🍡

sending - absolutely inspired by the photos posted after the new years video… i think riwoo would generally be quite shy about sending nudes, and a sexting convo would usually be started by you, him only initiating when he’s on tour and so, so lonely. but he sends you little laying down pics, pants hanging low, waist on show because he knows how much you love them. i also think (not shown) he’d send full dick pics, just at a downward angle holding his hard length in his hand, simple but he has a pretty dick yk, has to use it to his advantage. one time, after begging and pleading you even got him to send one with a ribbon tied round the end.

receiving - once again riwoo on the whole is just super shy about nudes, so much like sungho, any nudes sent is your idea and usually catches him completely off guard, even if he’s alone on tour, he’s still hiding his phone, staring like he’s not allowed to, like he’s doing something wrong. if you forced him to have an opinion though, the ones where you’re fully clothed, either holding your tits, or your nipples visible through the material, or cleavage poking out the top. anything to do with your boobs, while you’re still dressed he loves… feels like he can perv, even though you’re already his completely.

jaehyun🪻🐕

sending - there’s no rhyme or reason to when myungjae sends you nudes, he’s so horny most of the time, you’ll be sat at your desk in the middle of the day and you’ll receive a 5 minute long video of him masturbating, beginning to end. he’s not discriminatory about the photos/videos he sends. i chose these two references just cause they reminded me of him… in the first, the fashion and the earphones, it just has his vibe - and i think he’d absolutely send you pictures of marks you left on his body throughout the day, different to the way taesan does it though, he’s not showing off, he’s pouting, trying to gain your sympathy. with the second, it’ll be his first day off in ages, he’d send you pics he’d taken during sex until you’re finally receiving pics of his hard cock, turned on by his own doing - and eventually a moaning audio…

receiving - he’d LOVE when you match his freak and send videos of yourself beginning to end masturbating and unlike riwoo and sungho, myungjae absolutely would and DOES ask again and again for you to send pics and vids… he does this normally which you appease with boob or lingerie pics, the usual basics. but when he’s on tour, he’s begging more and more desperately, you like to treat him. videos either masturbating or teasing yourself, begging him by name to come home and let you cum - even if he’s not usually a dom, he loves the illusion of the videos, it’s his own personal porn…

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛

sending - wound photos!!!!! i’ve spoken about this on other people’s blogs but i go insane for masochist taesan, whether that’s sub or dom i think he’d love being scratched, marked up, slapped and more, and afterwards he’d love to send you photos of the wounds. the photo below’s a bit tame but i couldn’t find any i liked… he’d take some straight after sex, when bloods coming from his lip and his back and shoulders, and his body’s bruised and swollen, but he’d continue to take them through the week, giving you updates on your artwork <3 also, like the second photo, you’d go a while no updates and then he’d send just photos of his bare, unmarked skin, basically begging you to come and mark him up. on the more nsfw side, he’d also send moaning audios as he stroked his cock, maybe when he’s in the studio alone, and he’s stressed, he enjoys rubbing one out and sometimes, he doesn’t want to be quite so alone…

receiving - taesan would be one who wouldn’t ask explicitly for photos, but if he sends one, it’s only natural for his girlfriend to send one back, right? (also if you’re the one to send the nudes unprompted, just know the sex afterwards will be a punishment, no matter how much he liked them). he loves when you do the same back to him, sending him updates on marks and cuts he left on your body, bruises on your thighs, hand marks all over, and even if you’re not one for pain like taesan is, he loves leaving hickies up your boobs and neck, and he wants updates on those too. apart from that, lingerie pics are the best for him. he wants to see whenever you get a new pair, modelled immediately over text, or even when you find an old pair at the back of your drawer while cleaning out. or, it’s laundry day and you have no other options. whatever the occasion, he just wants to make sure he’s included.

leehan🪸🐠

sending - leehan, like with most other things in life, is obviously unusual, but also very casual in his attitude. he’d love sending pics like the first one just completely unprompted - no prior conversation happening and you reply like …‘how dare you’… he loves teasing you like that. because of course you’re horny now, look at your boyfriend! he usually does that when he’s just bored, not horny. but when he’s horny, he’ll send pics like the second, cute photos disguising his bulge or his bare torso underneath. i also think on a real nsfw note, he’d enjoy sending videos of his face as he jerks off, he loves how it’s teasing you as if testing whether you know the face or not beforehand, because you open what you think is just a handsome video of your boyfriend - before you notice the slick sounds in the background and the low moans starting to escape his mouth…

receiving - he’d love to see videos or audios the same way he sends them, and he’d be shameless in asking for them - special requests and all. ofc leehan wouldn’t always be knowledgable to the fact that they’re coming though - for those ones, he loves just photos of your body in underwear, not lingerie, simple underwear. lingerie feels too stuffy, underwear feels like all the times he’s about to fuck you, just seconds before… specifically he loves mirror selfies when you’re sitting, high waisted panties framing your tummy, or kneeling in the same way. he loves receiving these unprompted, and he’s shameless at looking at them too, in the middle of the practise room, full brightness, sat next to the other members.

[shikhao]

perv!stalker!nat x reader

mdni // tmasc!nat, intox, noncon, every character on this post is 18 years old.

you both study at the same school on your last year, you have some classes together, but you've never been close.

ever since you did a chemistry project together (because the teacher chose it) you just greet each other at the school halls, nothing more than a "hi", but for Nat, it was much more.

of course, because you are so smart and beautiful, Nat begins to be fascinated by you.

you noticed how he look at you in class, but for you it wasn't a big deal, even though he kept staring at you throughout the entire class, fucking you up with his eyes.

and dawg, he needs to relieve himself, he always — like, every single day — ends up asking to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, he literally needs to touch himself thinking about you. he's completely addicted to you.

at a party where you were drinking alone, you were so drunk, Nat offered you a drink — which you didn't know he had put some drugs in —, and when you got so dumb, suddenly Nat started rubbing himself against you, how come no one was watching. but you didn't care, you were drunk, he probably wasn't doing it on purpose.

cute anonymous letters appearing on your locker, like: “you looked so beautiful today.”, “I hope you know how pretty you are.”, “you are mine and I will do whatever it takes to have you with me.”

he definitely thinks about you while listening to romantic songs.

he discovered your favorite flowers and had a student deliver them to you.

he followed you home for a whole week to find out your routine.

one day you were walking home from school alone, the streets were empty and suddenly he pushed you into an alley. he started taking off his pants and made you kneel down. “Nat, what are you doing?” “I’m making my dream come true, babe.” so he made you gag on his packer.

he made you swear that you wouldn't tell anyone about this incident, or that he would spread some secret of yours to everyone, that he found out because he was a fucking stalker.

after that day, he would appear throwing pebbles at your bedroom window every night, and you were forced to let him in.

at first you didn't like it, you thought he was a freak weirdo. but after a few weeks, you started to fall in love with him. he really did so many things just to have you by his side. <3

on those nights when he appeared in your room, you slept cuddling together, he always ended up rubbing himself against you, touching you inappropriately, but you got used to liking it.

modern au perv!stalker!nat

an unknown number sent you lots of love messages, you don't know who is that, but you couldn't care less, what could he do, after all? so you ended up not blocking it.

suddenly you started receiving nudes from this unknown number, and man, it was Nat, you found out when he sent you a boob pic showing his face. you don't know if it was intentional.

he took pictures of you while you were changing in your room.

he managed to put a tracker on your cell phone.

I'm sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language and it's my second writing here. hope y'all enjoy it.

[anti-romantico]

[untitled] txt yeonjun

warnings: oral (m&f), unprotected sex, pulling out method, explicit hint of a second round, idk what else

words: 4750

A/N: this has been sitting on my drafts for a while now, but I don't remember why I didn't post it, sorry for taking so long, I can't promise this won't happen again

btw, there might be mistakes, I don't recall checking it thoughtfully

You looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a blurry image, caused by all the drinks you had in the past 2 hours. You could hear your friends giggle in the other room. This truth or dare game has come too far, but not enough for you to stop playing. 

— [Y/N]! You have to see this! — Gahyeon said on the other side of the door. 

You flushed the toilet and went to your friends’ call. — Damn, what it’s so urgent? 

— They just dared me to send a risky text to Mr. Kim! — Daeun said, you could hear excitement in her voice. It was her favorite teacher when you all were in high school. 

— Oh how unfortunate! I’ll pray for your soul. — You sarcastically said, laughing at her sticking her tongue out. 

You poured another drink for you while they argued about the content of the text. “That’s gross, Joo!” “That’s sounds like I’m asking what’s for homework” 

Joo snatched her phone and read the message out loud before Daeun could send the message: — Good evening, Mr. Kim, or should I just call you Jiho? Do you remember me? I’m Daeun, your favorite student. I’ve been thinking about you and I was wondering if we could meet up. 

Gahyeon clapped as she laughed. You joined to her laughter, imagining Mr. Kim’s reaction to the message. 

— God, gimme that! — Daeun snatched back her phone and sent the message, blocking it right away and chugging the remaining of her drink. 

— It’s [Y/N]’s turn now… — Joo said, and shared a look with the other two girls.

You scoffed and their faces. — What is it?

— We dare you to… — Joo started to say, but you stopped her.

— You didn’t even let me choose! — You protested, letting your drink on the table so you could cross your arms.

— Don’t be boring! — Gahyeon rolled her eyes. — I called my ex and told him I missed him, and he hasn't stopped texting, Joo sent a blurry nude to the guy she’s just talking to and Daeun texted Mr. Kim! It’s only fair.

You looked at each one of your friends and sighed. — Fine! What’s the dare?

Your friends cheered. — You have to kiss your hot neighbor. — Daeun said, pointing at the house in front of yours.

— Yeonjun? Are you insane? I barely talk to him! — You tried to hide the fact that you actually wanted to do the dare.

— Oh but you for sure have thought about some nasty things about him, girl. — Gahyeon accused you, reminding you you told them in your group chat about the times he tells you about the parties he often makes. You weren’t the only neighbor he told about it, but you liked to think you were the only neighbor he invited. 

— But, how am I going to do that? Just knock and kiss him? 

— Try to talk to him a little and then kiss him! Oh, and it has to be a good kiss. Not a peck. — Daeun said, pushing you so you could stand up. — Good luck! 

You turned around and saw your friends smiling at you. — Are you going to stay there? 

— Don’t worry, we have your back. Go. — Gahyeon said, making a movement with her hand to hurry you up-

You took a deep breath and walked to your front door, freezing for a moment. What if he has a girlfriend? And she lives with him? And she kicks your ass for kissing her man? Besides, you were in your pajamas, what if he thought you were insane for knocking on his door dressed in a big shirt and shorts?

You have never seen anyone else but his friends around. Not even hook-ups. There was only one way to know.

With your last drop of courage and all the alcohol in your system, you opened your door and confidently walked to his house. Not even a minute later you were knocking on his door, waking you up from whatever kind of daydream you were having. As you were about to run, his door opened, showing a surprised Yeonjun.

— [Y/N]! Hi! Is everything ok? — He asked, looking at your state. It was obvious you had a few drinks.

— Are you alone? — You abruptly asked. What kind of question is that? — Sorry, I know it’s late, but…

— It’s ok. — He giggled at your attempt to fix your fuck-up. — I’m alone, yeah, didn’t feel like partying tonight. 

Right, it was Saturday night and his house wasn’t packed with people like any other weekend.

— Oh, that explains the lack of music. — You said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Yeonjun nodded, still confused why you were in front of him at almost 1 in the morning. — I came because… I was wondering if you had a spare charger for my phone, mine just died. — That was the best lie you could think of. 

And Yeonjun was surprised, to say the least, you were here just for a charger? — Uh, I think I have one, but I have to look for it. Do you mind coming inside while I look around?

Shit. — Sure, only if you don’t mind. You know, it’s late, I didn’t mean to bother. 

— You’re not bothering, come in. I think I know where the charger is. 

You could only imagine your friends’ reaction when you walked inside his house. God, now what?

You followed Yeonjun to his kitchen and stared at him as he opened and closed drawers and cabinets. 

— Uh, it’s not here. Let me go to the other room, I won’t take long. — You nodded and let out a deep breath when he left the room. 

Something called your attention outside, making you look and find your friends looking through the window. You tried to tell them to leave, but then noticed they were filming with their phones. 

— Here! I found it. — Yeonjun ran to the kitchen and gave you the charger.

— You’re really sweet, Yeonjun, thank you. I swear I’ll bring it as soon as possible. — You toyed with it, avoiding eye contact.

— It’s ok, you can keep it, I don’t think Beomgyu will miss it. — Yeonjun got closer to you as he spoke, but you were too busy looking at the charger.

— Is it… your friend’s? — The last two words came out as a whisper when you noticed how close he was. 

— He always forgets stuff here and instead of asking, he just buys new ones. — He matched your tone, careful to not make you uncomfortable. — Do you need anything else? 

— I… I don’t think so. 

He caged you against the wall and hummed. — Is there a reason why your friends are filming every move we make from your living room?

— They uhm, they dared me. — You closed your eyes when you heard him chuckle.

— They dared you to ask for a charger? That’s a weird dare. — He was teasing you and loving to see you didn’t know what to do.

— No, the dare was… for me to kiss you. — The last part came out so fast he didn’t understand a single word. . 

— Could you repeat it, slower maybe? 

— They dared me to kiss you. — You didn’t know how, but you managed to keep eye contact with him, even though everything inside you was trembling.

— And asking for the charger was your excuse? Why not just do it? — Yeonjun grabbed your chin when you tried to break eye contact.

— I was afraid you had a girlfriend. Didn’t want to cause drama. — Your doe eyes made him bite his lower lip.

— Well, I don’t have a girlfriend, so you’re free to comply with your dare. — He let you go, waiting for you to kiss him first or leave if that’s what you wanted.

You gave your friends a last look before grabbing Yeonjun from his shirt and pulling him to you. You swore you heard your friends’ scream. 

Yeonjun’s hand went to your hips and pulled you even closer. His tongue forcing his way into your mouth aggressively. 

You didn’t know for how long you two kissed, but when his lips lowered to your neck, you saw that your friends weren’t in the living room anymore. You still mentally thanked them; you didn’t want them to film the whole thing.

— I guess that means you have to leave. — Yeonjun also noticed they were gone, but his words didn’t match his actions since his lips attacked yours as soon as he finished his sentence.

Your body melted into his, your hands grabbing his shirt tightly, pulling him closer as he continued to explore your neck with his lips. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but gasp and moan softly, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Yeonjun’s hands roamed over your body, his touch burning through the thin fabric of your clothes. As he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck, your mind began to wander.

The room seemed to spin as your senses heightened, your body was on fire with desire. Yeonjun’s lips left a trail of kisses down your collarbone, and you arched your back in response, your hips involuntarily grinding against his.

His lips traced the curve of your chest, his tongue darting out to tease your skin. He sucked at the sensitive flesh, causing you to gasp and moan even louder. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you pushed yourself closer to him, needing more of that sensation against your overheated body.

His hands moved lower, caressing the curves of your hips and thighs, and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body. You found yourself panting and gasping for air, and you desperately clawed at his shirt, trying to pull it off so you could feel his bare skin against yours. Yeonjun complied, breaking away from the kiss just long enough to wrench his shirt off and toss it aside. Your eyes roamed over his bare chest, taking in the sight of his well-defined muscles and smooth skin. He smirked at your reaction, before pulling you back into his arms. His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue diving deeper into your mouth, while his hands slid under your shirt and up your back. The feel of his fingertips on your skin drove you wild, and you responded eagerly, pressing your body against his and returning his kisses with equal fervor.

As your bodies ground together, the room filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps. You could feel his heart racing against your chest and the heat of his skin was like a brand against your own. His hands moved lower, his fingers toying with the edge of your shorts, and you gasped at the sensation. Your own hands roamed over his body, while your tongue dueled with his. You wanted more, needed more, and you could feel the pressure building deep inside you, an ache that only he could soothe.

Yet, he still stopped, looking deeply at your eyes. You went to kiss him again, causing a whine when he pulled back, grabbing you by your chin. — Do you think your friends are worried you haven't gotten back yet?

Oh of course he had to keep teasing you. — I hope not, because I'm having such a good time right now. 

Yeonjun chuckled at your response, his eyes roaming over your face with something bordering on hunger. — Well, if they get worried,  — he said, his fingers still holding your chin, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. — maybe we should give them something to really worry about.

Before you could respond, he had spun you around and pushed you against the wall, his body pinning you in place. You gasped in surprise, but any protest died on your lips as his mouth found your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

His hands roamed over your body, touching, caressing, and teasing, and you found yourself unable to do anything but gasp and moan in response. You could feel his breath on your ear as he murmured in a low tone.

— Do you know how hard it's been for me to keep my hands off you? Knowing you were just on the other side of the street? 

You were already a mess, your body on fire and your mind spinning, but his words just made it worse. His hips humping against your butt, and you could feel the hard bulge of his arousal through his pants, causing you to whine and squirm beneath him.

— Don't think I haven't noticed, — He growled against your ear, his voice deep and gravelly. — the way you look at me every time I come to tell you about my parties, the way you blushed when I would invite you. — His hand slid down your waist and under your shirt, his fingers tracing over your stomach and higher up towards your chest. You arched your back, desperate for more of his touch, your body begging for release.

His mouth found your collarbone after he immediately turned you around to face him, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your chest and towards your exposed cleavage. 

—You drive me insane, you know that? — He muttered, his lips against your skin. — With those eyes and that cute little face and that body. 

His hand moved lower, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts while he continued to mouth at your neck and chest. You were a panting mess, your body desperate for more of his touch. He suddenly lifted you off the ground, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he pulled you even closer, his hips pressing between your thighs. You buried your face in his neck, your moans muffled against his skin.

You could feel him even more through the thin fabric of your clothes, and you squirmed against him, desperate for friction. His arms were like steel around you, holding you tightly against him while his mouth never stopped its assault on your sensitive skin.

— You have no idea the things I want to do to you. — He muttered, his voice ragged. His lips found yours after what it felt like forever, and the kiss was hard and possessive, his tongue dominating your mouth as he continued to hold you pressed against the wall.

You returned the kiss, your body responding to his touch like a moth to a flame. You were lost in the sensations, your mind consumed by nothing but him and the overwhelming pleasure he was eliciting from you. His hands found your thighs, and he pushed your shorts up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear. You gasped and arched into his touch, your body begging for more.

His lips left yours, and he buried his face in your hair, his breathing ragged and unsteady. — God, I could take you right here. — Yeonjun groaned, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

— And risking my friends to see? — You said, pulling his face to yours and kissing him. — Fuck no. 

He chuckled against your lips, his hands gripping your hips. — I think we should go somewhere a little more private then.

He lowered you to your feet, keeping one arm around your waist to steady you. You were still a little dizzy from the sensations he had aroused in you, but you nodded weakly. He smirked at your dazed expression, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you. 

His room was dark, the only light coming from the moon spilling through the curtains. Yeonjun pushed you onto the bed, and you fell back with a gasp, your body still tingling with desire.

He was over you in an instant, his body covering yours and pinning you to the bed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you as he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin.

— I've been wanting this for so long. — He murmured, his hands roaming over your body. — And now I finally have you all to myself.

— Then take me, don't make me wait. — You said, locking your legs around his hips and grinding yourself up to get some fraction.

He groaned at your movements, his body involuntarily grinding against yours in response. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. — Patience, sweetheart, I'm going to take my time with you. — He continued, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again. — I want to savor every moment, every sound, every taste.

His mouth traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites on its wake. You gasped and writhed under him, your body growing more and more impatient. 

— Yeonjun, please. — You gasped out, your voice desperate.

He chuckled at your plea, clearly enjoying your desperate state. — Please what, sweetheart? — He asked, his lips moving down to your chest. He nipped and kissed your flushed skin, his tongue swirling around your sensitive flesh.

— Please....I need you. I need more. — You managed to say. Your body was on fire, your mind consumed by nothing but him and the pleasure he was igniting within you.

He raised his head to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. — You're so beautiful when you beg. — He said, his voice ragged. — And you beg so nicely. — He leaned down and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue sinking into your mouth to possess you completely.

His hands released your wrists, and they roved over your body once again, touching, caressing, and exploring every inch of you. You buried your hands in his hair, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. Your body was taut with need, your hips arching up towards him as you sought friction for your aching core.

Yeonjun continued his ministrations, his mouth trailing down your body, his tongue tracing over your skin like a flame. He nipped and sucked at your sensitive spots, eliciting gasps and moans from your lips. He could tell just how tightly coiled you were.

— So needy, — He murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. — Can't keep your hands off me, can you? — He bit down on your hip, his teeth sinking into your skin, and you cried out at the sensation, your body arching off the bed.

— No-no, I need you. — You whined, your hands gripping his shoulders as if to keep him from leaving. — I need you so badly, please… Please don't tease me anymore.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. — Oh, sweetheart. — He said, lifting his head to look at you again. — I'm going to make you fall apart, and I'm going to savor every second of it.

He returned to your neck, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sensitive skin. At the same time, his hands moved lower, his fingers trailing over your stomach and lower still, towards the waistband of your shorts.

—You're so hot, so ready, aren't you?. — His words made your body tremble. His fingers traced the edge of your underwear, sending shivers down your spine. — You want me just as much as I want you. You need me just as much as I need you.

— Y-yes. — You said in a sigh, your hips arching up towards his touch. The ache between your legs was like a burning flame, growing hotter with every second. You were desperate for him, to feel him inside you.

He smirked against your skin at your words, his fingers still tracing the edge of your underwear, driving you insane. — And I'm going to give you what you want, but not yet. I want to see you completely undone first.

— Yeonjun… — You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing over his cheek. — Please...I can't take much more of this. I need you. I need you now. — Your voice was desperate, your body practically vibrating with need.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. — You're so impatient. — He said, his breath fanning over your face. — I promise, sweetheart, it'll be worth the wait. Trust me.

But you couldn't take it anymore, so you pushed him, taking him by surprise as you straddled him, placing your hands on his naked chest for support as you started to hump his bulge over your clothes.  

Yeonjun's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting your sudden boldness, but he quickly recovered, a smirk crossing his face as he looked up at you. — No more begging for me? — He teased, his hands going to your hips.

— No more. — You replied breathlessly, your hips continuing to grind against him. You could feel him growing harder beneath you, his body responding to your movements, despite his attempts to maintain control.

— You're a very naughty girl. — He said, his hands gripping your hips tightly. — I like it. — He leaned back, allowing you to have more control, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily.

You leaned down to his level, brushing your fingers against his swallowed lips. You needed them on you. 

— I know what you're thinking. Do it.

You smiled, biting your lower lip, pushing him slightly from his chest so he could be fully laying down. Slowly, you took your pajama off, getting wetter when you saw him eye you up and down repeatedly. 

You straddled Yeonjun's face, your wet pussy hovering over his mouth. You lowered yourself onto him, letting his tongue explore you. Yeonjun's tongue traced your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You rocked your hips back and forth, grinding yourself against his face. Yeonjun's fingers found their way to your pussy, two fingers sliding in and out of you. His tongue moved faster, flicking against your clit, as your moans grew louder. Yeonjun's fingers moved faster, fucking you harder. Your moans turned into screams, her legs shaking uncontrollably. His tongue continued its assault on your clit, pushing you over the edge. You came hard, pussy clenching around Yeonjun's fingers. You collapsed onto Yeonjun, panting and sweating.

Yeonjun crawled over you, kissing your neck and finally removing your shirt. — How was that? — He asked in your ear, rubbing your thighs, feeling how you would you tense your muscles under his touch. 

You chuckled, knowing why he was asking. — I don’t remember the last time I cum that hard. — Your voice came out hoarse.

Yeonjun sighed and kissed you, tongue fighting against yours almost immediately. While you were distracted by the messy kiss, you didn’t notice when he lowered his pants, and since he was already on his bed when you knocked, he wasn’t wearing underwear. 

It was until he grabbed your hand and guided it to his hard cock. You pulled apart and looked down, clenching around nothing at the sight of your hand under his while jerking him off. You felt his cock all over, gently feeling his veins and caressing his red tip. You were fascinated, it turned Yeonjun on, letting you take a little control, laying back and admiring you while you moved your hand up and down.

You began to stroke him faster, stopping a little to spit on his cock a couple of times to do your job easier. Yeonjun threw his head back when he felt your saliva make contact with his cock. You maintained a steady pace, looking up to Yeonjun to see his reaction. 

He was facing the ceiling, showing his neck, his eyes were closed, his mouth open and his fist was clenching on his blanket. Just when you thought he was about to cum, he grabbed your hand, stopping you. He was sweating, trying his best to calm his breath. Without saying anything, he pulled you to kiss you, grabbing you by your neck and making you lay down. 

When he pulled back, you two looked at each other’s eyes, asking the same thing. You spread your legs, letting Yeonjun place himself in between, guiding himself without breaking eye contact.

The way you arched your back and moaned, it was like you were begging for him to fill you up. And he did, entering you with a long sigh. As his tip pushed against the walls of your pussy, you gasped, squeezing his shoulders with your fingers.

You lifted your hips and bucked against him, encouraging him to move, but instead Yeonjun let his head drop on your shoulder, burying his face in your hair.

— Yeonjun. — You whispered his name, urging him to continue. — Move. Move now.

And with a chuckle, he obeyed, making your knees fall open completely, holding them apart with his hands to get the perfect angle, and he began to move. Thrusting in and out of your body, your lips kissed each other’s breath away and your hands intertwined.

He leaned back, letting his eyes devour on the sight of you, your legs spread wide open and your toes curled back in ecstasy. His fingers found their way to your nipples, teasing them until they were hard as rocks. Every time Yeonjun thrust, your back arched and your nipples rubbed against his chest. He bent forward, pinning you down underneath him. You could feel his breaths hot on your skin as he picked up the pace, making your head spin. You reached up and cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you.

His lips moved down your neck, sucking a mark on your pulse point. As he bit down on the sensitive skin, your legs began to shake. He continued to push himself inside of you, thrusting and pulling out again, before pushing himself in again. His breath was hot against your skin, his teeth raked down on your throat, biting down on your earlobe, sucking on the skin, and making you shiver.

— I can feel all the way inside of you. You’re squeezing me so hard. I don’t know how much longer I can last like this. — He said, continuing with a moan.

Yeonjun suddenly pulled out, taking you by surprise. You tried to take him back in, thinking it was a mistake, but he stopped you.

— Let me please cum in your mouth, baby. — Did he just beg you? 

You nodded and got on all fours as he stood up jerking himself off, guiding his wet cock to your lips, grabbing the back of your head, pulling you towards his cock. 

You opened you mouth widely, allowing him to slide inside. You started to suck, wrapping your lips tightly around as you moved  your head back and forth.

Yeonjun groaned, getting closer to the edge. Just for a few seconds, he pulled out his cock from your mouth, stroking himself fast before invading your mouth again. He was fighting his urges to move his hips, not wanting to gag you or hurt you. He just let you suck him off, swallowing around him a couple of times, causing him to pull your hair from the scalp, letting you know he was about to cum.

You swallowed it all, your eyes never leaving his as you licked your lips clean. 

Yeonjun collapsed onto the bed next to you, panting and sweating. — That was amazing.

— I enjoyed it too. — You smiled up at him, your lips still glistening with his cum. Yeonjun pulled you closer, kissing you and tasting himself on your lips. 

— Are you sure your friends aren’t worried yet? — He asked, caressing your cheek.

You rubbed your nose against his. — Do you want me to leave? 

— Of course not, but it’s late.

— They might be asleep already. — You sighed, kissing Yeonjun again. He smiled on your lips before deepening the kiss.

— You might wake them up if you go now. — He pulled you over him, straddling him. He was getting hard again. 

— Even if they’re still awake, they’re going to ask the same question whether it’s tonight or tomorrow. — You involuntarily moved your hips over his, sighing when you felt his cock sliding in between your pussy lips. 

— Then allow me to have my way with you one more time. — Yeonjun grabbed you by your hips and pulled you up, just enough for him to guide himself to your entrance.  You lowered yourself, making his cock sink deeper in you. 

Once he was fully inside, he grabbed you by your face again, kissing you softly. — Let me do it. — He said before ramming his hips up into you.

[dexterdaybreaker]

@thatone-highlighter

If you were to vacuum up jello through a metal tube, well I think that’d be a neat noise 

[starflungwaddledee]

Regarding the ask with starstruck’s star spears and Galacta,I’m guessing they have some sort of beef? Maybe they’ve met in the past?

[x] i'm not sure if i'd call it beef so much as the whole entire herd of cattle

[ssreeder]

I just finished reading Fourth Wing which is a 632 page book in about 12 hours and so I went "I wonder how long LIAB would be page wise???? So, I put the word count of the whole series into a calculator site.

It states currently, your fic is equivalent to a 2,809 page book. Congrats on essentially writing five 562 page novels. I just thought youd like know! :D

-Scroll Anon

[waitineedaname]

have you ever seen the hog

ya

[a-special-ship-safe-space]

Hey there, King Dedede! I remember hearing about you! Something about you and that pink round alien thingy... either way, big fan of you! :>

Anyways, what's a couple of your favorite memories with S/I? It'd be cool to hear some stories from you!

- 💫 Snail-chan [via @snailchans-imaginarium]

"Well aint this a nice surprise!! Nice ta' know there more of my fans out there!" "we dont mention the puffball when im around."

"ANYWAYS!! The question!" give him a minute he is rereading it..silly king cant read that well. yes its a hc of mine.

"Good stories about Mercury huh? I got plenty but ill tell you around two since i got stuff i need ta do"

"Fun fact about him is that he LOVES halloween. So me and him usually try to scare everyone. Me and him also have this competition to see if we can scare each other. Last Halloween i decided to sneak up behind him and just do the usual yell behind him and make him jump tactic while he was trainin' (to be honest i did't expect it to work)

"AND HOOOO BOY HE JUMPED SO HIGH I THOUGHT I SENT HIM FLYIN'. Of course he was mad at me for a bit but now every time i mention it he just chuckles at it i think he liked being scared like that to be honest"

"Annnnnnnndd..I guess him asking me to be his boyfriend was pretty special. I always noticed him picking up rocks and then putting them down. i thought nothin' of it to be honest. but after..around i say....5 months? He walks over to me and tells me to close my eyes and open my hand. I did what he asked and he placed a shiny blue rock in my hand. It was awfully pretty and shiny. It was basically him asking me "you wanna be boyfriends?" and i knew what he was getting at since he asked me alot about my kind before doing this.

"so it was and still is one of my favorite memories i have of him. Just seeing his face get all red and shy and seeing him stutter like a mad waddle dee was adorable. Even if he hates to admit that"

[neo-shitty]

spring day never latches on to a permanent face. it takes the form of the people i miss whom i have no way of reconnecting with. ever since i read that message in my inbox, it has taken the form of you, kesya.

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[ashvampire]

🤔🍄

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Ohh I have so many. In terms of tes stuff I want to write one with Nerevar and Voryn making sketchy agreements involving pirates. sounds better in my head

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

drunk tribunal + voryn = mild dramas

[sexbot300]

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

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[hoshifighting]

Two words. Dilf Cheol. (I am on the brink of insanity thank yewww)

dilf!seungcheol

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crying, marriage, his kid loves u, shy dilf!seungcheol at the beginning.

oh man, dilf!seungcheol though? i think about it every single day, i swear. and yeah, it all starts with that awkward-ass moment at the café. he’s standing there all buff and shy, trying to work up the nerve to ask for your number, his daughter hanging onto his leg like she’s his bodyguard. her big, curious eyes peeking out at you while he stumbles over his words. “uh… I just… I thought maybe you’d… uh,” seungcheol scratches the back of his neck, all nervous—like he isn’t the size of a tank. “you know, if you’re not busy… you could give me your insta?” he’s waiting for you to laugh at him, probably thinks he’s gonna get rejected because, you know, he’s got a kid and all. like that makes him less attractive or something. but you’re all heart-eyes the second his little girl pipes up with, “daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

dude nearly dies on the spot. he’s so red, you could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. but you just crouch down to her level, giving her the same sweet smile you flashed at the waitress earlier, and say, “well, I think your dad’s really handsome, too.”

game over. you’ve got him hooked, right there.

from then on, you’re texting nonstop. it’s almost like a high school crush thing, except the guy’s a full-grown dad who still somehow makes your stomach flip like you’re sixteen again. his insta’s basically a whole love letter to his daughter, like, every other post is her: her in some princess costume, her making pancakes (or trying to), her at the park with him, her with his dog. sometimes, you’ll scroll through his feed just to see him smile because, damn, it’s so rare he smiles like that anywhere else.

but then there’s the gym photos. god, those gym photos. all sweaty and pumped up, and you swear he’s showing off just a bit for you now that he knows you’re watching. his arms look like they could crush you, but the way he talks? it’s like he’s this big ol’ teddy bear wrapped in all that muscle.

“you eat today?” he texts you at like, 2 p.m., no greeting or anything.

you text back, “noo :(( too busy.”

not even a minute later, you get a notification from some food delivery app—he’s already sent something to your place. he’s like that. doesn’t even ask, just takes care of it. if it’s cold out, he’s dropping off a coat. if it rains, a brand new umbrella’s somehow at your work's door.

one night, you're scrolling through insta, and there’s this photo of him at some fancy work event, all dressed up in a suit and tie. goddamn, you think, biting your lip, because who knew seungcheol could clean up like that? the suit hugs every muscle, and it’s wild how he can look that good in anything from sweats to formalwear. you double-tap, and not two minutes later, he’s texting you.

“you like that one?”

you don’t even bother playing coy. “nah, I loved that one.”

there’s a pause, and you can almost picture him blushing on the other end, even though you’re the one getting all flustered.

“well, maybe you’ll get to see it in person soon,” he shoots back, and there’s a teasing edge to it, the same one that’s been driving you absolutely crazy since you started talking.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s doing that dumb fluttery thing again. “maybe,” you reply, playing along.

and it’s like, you’re not even sure how this all happened so fast, but seungcheol? he’s always making sure you’re good, like his whole day revolves around making you smile, checking in, making sure you're eating, keeping warm. it’s low-key intense but in the best way possible.

and somehow, between all the little text convos and the insta stalking, you’ve found yourself seriously catching feelings for this dad with the cutest kid, the sweetest heart, and a whole-ass gym routine that’s absolutely unfair.

and you wonder: how the hell did you get this lucky?

seungcheol's always been like that—taking care of you like it’s second nature, probably because he’s used to being in dad-mode 24/7. you kinda feel spoiled, in the best way possible. he’s always looking out for you. it’s not that he’s overbearing; it’s just that this is how he shows he cares. but you know it goes both ways.

so one day, you decide to return the favor. you find this pink polo, something that screams him but in the softest, most endearing way. you know his daughter will love it too, ‘cause she’s all about pink and matching with her dad. you send it to him without saying much, just a little note saying, “thought this would look good on you.” the next time you see him, he's wearing it, and yeah, the shirt hugs his body perfectly. he’s acting like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way he blushes when you compliment him. “didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but his eyes are softer than usual, that little glint of he’s falling harder than he planned.

but what really seals the deal is how u handle his daughter. every time you two try to plan a date, something comes up—his mom’s busy, or the babysitter falls through, and suddenly, the whole night’s flipped. instead of a fancy dinner, you’re headed to the park or some kid-friendly café, making sure his little girl has fun. and somehow, you end up having more fun on those “ruined” dates, watching seungcheol let loose, running around with his kid while you cheer them on. it’s like you get him, get his life, and he’s not used to that.

and then, finally, one night, the stars align. his mom takes the kid for the weekend, and it’s just you and him. alone.

and oh god, does he reward you.

he’s been holding back for weeks—months even. all that pent-up frustration, that tension from constantly having to play the responsible dad while trying to not let himself get too attached to you, it all comes crashing down.

he’s rough, no question about it. but it’s the kind of rough that makes your whole body sing. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, holding, pressing you up against walls and furniture like he’s desperate to feel every inch of you at once. he’s strong, and he knows it, lifting you like you weigh nothing, carrying you from one spot to the next without breaking a sweat.

the first time, it’s almost frantic. he’s pounding into you like he’s afraid the moment’s gonna slip through his fingers, grunting into your ear, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. your legs wrap around him, but you can hardly hold on—he’s relentless, hitting that spot over and over until you’re crying out, body shaking violently.

you don’t even realize your legs are spasming until hours later, when you try to stand and nearly collapse from how shaky you are. but seungcheol’s not done. oh no. he’s far from done.

before you can even catch your breath, he’s down between your legs, eating you out like a man famished. this time, it’s slower his tongue doing things that make you arch off the bed, hands fisting in his hair as he drags you to the edge again, then pulls you back just to do it all over. every time you think you’re about to lose it, he eases up, grinning against your skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

and yeah, maybe it’s been ages for him, but fuck, the man knows how to destroy you. by the time he’s done, you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, heart flying from your chest, your body so sensitive that even the thought of him touching you again makes you shudder.

seungcheol though, he’s the type to take his time. slow and unshakable, like he’s gotta be absolutely sure before he makes any big moves. but with you? he’s struggling. there’s this itch under his skin, this need to lock it down, put a ring on your finger, make it official. and yeah, he’d never say it out loud, not yet. he’s got too much pride to come off that desperate. but every time he watches you with his daughter, every time she calls you her “best friend” or shows you the drawing she made of you three as a family, he’s fighting the urge to drop down on one knee and ask you to make it real.

he hides it well, though, keeps up the usual routine. he keeps taking you out on dates, some with his little girl tagging along, others just the two of you. and he’s always scolding you whenever you show up with yet another gift for her.

“y/n, you’ve gotta stop,” he groans, shaking his head as you hand his daughter a set of pink hair clips that match her favorite doll. “she’s gonna expect something every week at this point.”

but there’s that soft look in his eyes, the one that betrays how much he loves seeing you spoil his kid. he’ll roll his eyes, but you notice how he always says “my girls” now, so casually like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you and her. his girls.

one day, he takes you to her father’s day presentation at school. you’re not sure who’s more nervous, seungcheol or his daughter. but when she walks on stage in her tiny tutu, all giggles and shy smiles, it’s seungcheol who completely loses it. you’re sitting beside him, watching him tear up before she’s even started dancing. by the time the performance is over, he’s full-on crying, holding his face in his hands as you rub his back, trying to calm him down.

“it’s just… she’s growing up so fast,” he sniffs, looking up at you with watery eyes, completely unashamed of the tears streaming down his face. and you can’t help but love him more for it, for how much he loves his daughter, for how raw and real he is when it comes to her.

your intimate life? that’s been steady too, despite how busy things get. with a kid around, it’s not always easy to find the time, but seungcheol makes sure you’re never left wanting. there are the quickies, yeah, when his daughter’s asleep and you’ve got the living room to yourselves, stealing a heated make-out session that somehow ends up with your back pressed against the couch cushions, his hands roaming under your clothes while he kisses you senseless.

but if things get too feral, you two will sneak off to the laundry room or the closet, anywhere you can get a little privacy. he’s fast, efficient, but still so thorough, making sure you’re fully satisfied every single time. it’s like, no matter how quick things have to be, he’s always got this laser focus on making you feel good.

but even with all the passion, he’s still got that soft side. sometimes, it’s just enough to make out on the couch, your lips swollen from kissing, the weight of him pressed against you. and in those moments, there’s this quiet comprehension between you two. you don’t need the sex to feel connected—sometimes, just being close is enough.

but it’s getting harder for him to hold back. every time he sees you playing with his daughter, every time she asks if you’re coming over for dinner, he feels it. that pull. that urge to make you his. and one night, after his daughter’s fallen asleep and the two of you are tangled up on the couch, catching your breath after another one of those wild, stolen moments, he looks at you, really looks at you, and the words just fall out of his mouth.

“marry me.”

it’s not planned, not rehearsed. hell, he hadn’t even thought about it until the moment the words slipped out. but once they’re out there, he realizes he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. his hand tightens around yours, and he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s already bracing himself for the answer.

and all you can think is, finally.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”