#but also. no one is going to tell me what my brain is like when they dont live here!!

[g-k444]

Uni professor that makes me come earlier n sit on a specific chair every lecture? Every lecture there's a new toy on it which i need to stuff into my pussy and endure over the course of the lecture?

front row seat, legs crossed over one another as everyone walks in and says hi and gets to their chosen seat. And once they're all sat down, im expected to open my legs up so that the prof can see my stuffed pussy beneath the desk whilst he lectures - teeth flashing with the sadistic smirk he wears each time that he looks over and sees me with eyes squeezed shut, doing my best not to make any noise

Sometimes when he feels particularly cruel, he'll call me out by name and say pay attention. In extreme cases of cruelty, he'll ask me to answer his questions and listen to me stutter to jog my brain and look past the pleasure to answer his questions.

The toys vary each week - one time it was a thick dildo, another time a bullet vibe to shove up my cunt. One time it was a butt plug of which the professor could control the vibrations of from his phone.

Of course, I then also need to wait until the end of the lesson before i can leave. Otherwise, everyone would see me get up with strings of my own cum extending from the chair to my sopping pussy as I get up.

No, instead I wait for everyone else to leave.

Then the professor can tell me to turn around and touch my toes so that my skirt flips and he can observe my pussy, stuffed with whatever odd object he'd decided to use on me that week.

Then what? Well, maybe I'll get fucked in the lecture room - at the very front - so that it feels like everyone's watching me. Or, maybe he'll tell me to suck his cock because he's tired to lecturing with a boner from watching me on the front row. Alternately, he might even tell me to go sit on his desk at the front and myself off for him using the toy, before making me lick all the slick that drips from my pussy off of the desk with my tongue

[sabsberries]

back to you - h.s.

summary - harry and y/n are forced into close quarters unexpectedly, but, despite the tension, it was the best thing that could've happened to them.

w.c. - 5.9k

warnings - swearing, use of Y/N, SMUT, fingering, p in v, oral (fem! receiving), pussy spitting, bondage, happy ending (sorry to my angst lovers)

part 1 can be found here - this also took me a week to write, and I think it's obvious where I finally got motivated...

Harry was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

Despite both him and Y/N agreeing that their breakup was mutual, deep down, the pair knew she had been the one who insisted and fought for the breakup to take place, and he just went along with it to keep her happy. She broke up with him.

Harry also knew that he was too full of pride, and ego, to tell his friends that the relationship he claimed 'shaped him as a person', and 'gave him a reason to wake up every morning', had ended, and that it was partially (mainly) his fault. He stayed silent until it became impossible to ignore, and reluctantly made the phone call to his friends and family, trying his hardest to keep the embarrassing details to a minimum.

So when he got the panicked text from Sarah at seven o'clock at night, asking if he could come over and babysit because Mitch had managed to break his finger falling over in the shower, Harry was all in.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on the clothes he was wearing the day prior so that no one could tell he had spent his Friday laying in bed watching shitty movies, and rushed into his car.

However, the last thing Harry expected to see when he finally arrived was Sarah's car missing, and Y/N's car in its place. He paused in the driveway, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Had they forgotten that they called him? Was he taking too long so they called Y/N as a last resort instead?

He pulled up next to her car, paused, and turned down the radio. As much as he hated to admit it, even seeing her car was causing his chest to tighten and his throat to ache, and the nagging voice in the back of his mind was slowly getting louder, begging for him to put his seatbelt back on, turn around, and go home.

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Harry hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut and reaching over to place his palm on the bonnet of Y/N's. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled. "Still warm."

He began making his way towards the front door, his brain spewing possible escape routes with every step he took. The door swung open before he was even arm length away.

"You're here! Did you find the house oka-- Harry." Y/N cut herself off, a half unscrewed bottle of wine in one hand, and the doorknob in the other.

"Me." He deadpanned, throwing her a tightlipped smile. "Expecting someone else?" He shimmied past her, ignoring the way she looked like a guilty teenager who just got caught replacing their parents vodka with water, and pulled off his coat.

"Uhm.. no. Not really. Just, y'know, pizza..." Her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

"Pizza?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with me ordering pizza?" She questioned, slamming the door shut and turning to look at him, an evident accusatory look on her face mirroring that in her voice.

"Nothing. What toppings? I'm starving. And finish opening that bottle." He grumbled. "Where's the little man?"

"Um, pizza is margarita, I can't finish opening the bottle because I can't find the corkscrew, and he is fast asleep upstairs with some white noise playing." 

Harry merely raised his eyebrows in what was either shock, surprise, or a mix of both, and made his way over to the kitchen. Y/N trailed after him, grumbling something about how he hadn't even said "Hello," to her yet.

"Corkscrew's in the drawer next to the fridge." Harry explained, pulling it out and showing it to her. "Pass me the bottle."

"So," Harry scrunched his face up slightly as he pulled out the cork, smirking at the satisfying 'Pop!' that followed suit, "Clearly it wasn't pizza that you were expecting at the door."

Y/N paused, and turned her head towards him ever so slightly. "What?" Her voice was slightly breathy as she forced the word out as quickly as possible, and her eyes were locked on Harry's smug face.

"Earlier at the door. You opened it, saw me, and started stuttering about pizza."

Y/N scoffed. "I didn't stutter. I don't stutter. You just caught me off guard. That's all."

"I caught you off guard?" Harry questioned, reaching to grab two wine glasses and pouring in a hefty amount. "Is that all?"

"I don't know what you-- thanks. I don't know what you want me to say!" Y/N defended, grabbing the wine glass he was offering to her and taking a gulp.

Harry stayed silent, and resorted to taking small sips from his glass. For the first time in almost a year, the silence between them wasn't hostile. There were no lingering glances, no scoffs when the other moved, and, the best in Harry's opinion, his brain wasn't fighting itself trying to think of things to get her to finally talk to him.

The noise of the doorbell rang throughout the house, contrasting the silence and causing Harry's head to rattle slightly.

"I'll grab that." Y/N smiled weakly, passing her glass to Harry for him to refill, and rushing over to the door.

Harry stayed behind in the kitchen, swirling the wine in his glass as he leaned against the counter. The sound of muffled voices at the door echoed faintly through the house, and he couldn’t help the way his ears pricked up, trying to catch pieces of the conversation. He knew it was just the pizza, but his stomach still did that irritating little flip it always seemed to do around her. Old habits die hard, apparently.

Y/N returned a moment later with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Dinner is served,” she announced, setting the box down on the counter and reaching for her wine glass.

Harry arched a brow, eyeing the box. “Margarita, you said?”

“Yep. Nice and simple.” She opened the box and grabbed a slice, her movements relaxed. "Much better than your weird combinations."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for his own slice. “It’s not weird, it’s called flavour. But thanks for sparing me the judgement tonight.”

“Oh, I still judge you, don’t worry,” she teased, taking a bite.

That earned a laugh from him—an actual, genuine laugh that surprised them both. The awkward tension that had been hovering between them like a storm cloud seemed to crack, just a little. Harry glanced over at her, catching the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes as she chewed.

"How come you're here?" Harry asked, finally taking a bite from the pizza.

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, almost as if she were coming up with an answer, before she finally spoke. "I had a date."

Harry stopped chewing. "A date?"

"Mhmm. I was getting ready when Sarah called me and told me what happened, and asked if I could come here and babysit. I told her I could, but I had to cancel my date, and she told me to just move it to here. She never mentioned you, though. That's why I didn't expect to see you."

"Ahh." Harry nodded his head, and continued eating his pizza, focusing on unclenching his jaw so that it wouldn't be so difficult to chew. "And, I've been here for, what, fifteen minutes now. Where's the lucky guy?"

"I cancelled." Y/N pursed her lips. "I actually used one of your excuses."

Harry scoffed, "When have I ever used an excuse with you?"

Y/N straightened up and looked at him. "Our second date! Last year you told me that you actually weren't sure about me because you thought I was an undercover fan lying about not listening to One Direction, so you texted me and said you had twisted your ankle and took some strong pain meds to make you pass out!"

Harry nearly choked on his pizza, his laugh bursting out before he could stop it. “I did not!” he exclaimed, though his face betrayed him as he tried to suppress a smirk.

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, you absolutely did. And do you know how ridiculous I felt when I saw paparazzi pictures of you the next morning walking out of the gym? With no ankle brace in sight, might I add.”

Harry let his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet, groaning in embarrassment. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. That was bad. But in my defence, you were way too cool about the whole ‘not a fan of the band’ thing. It threw me off!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile playing on her lips. “Right, because I had to be a crazed fan to want to go out with you? Very logical.”

“Well,” Harry said, dragging out the word with a teasing lilt, “you have to admit, I’ve met my fair share of undercover Directioners.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, but I wasn’t one of them. I genuinely didn’t care about the band.” She paused, then added cheekily, “Still don’t, actually.”

“Harsh,” Harry muttered, clutching his chest dramatically as if she’d just wounded him.

The laughter between them came easier now, the pizza nearly forgotten as they both leaned against the counter, sipping wine and trading playful jabs.

“Okay, but seriously,” Harry said after a moment, his expression softening. “You cancelled your date. Was it really because of me?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Not entirely,” she admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you, but I guess… when I realised you’d be here, it didn’t feel right to have someone else show up, too.”

Harry swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over him. “Why not?”

She met his gaze then, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder than they already are between us. We’re barely managing this, Harry. Adding someone else to the mix just felt… unnecessary.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his glass. “I get it,” he said, his voice just as soft.

For a moment, the air between them grew heavy again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It felt like something was being acknowledged—something neither of them was ready to say out loud yet.

Harry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, thanks for sparing me the awkwardness of a third wheel situation, I guess.”

Y/N smiled faintly, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “Anytime.”

They clinked glasses again, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. By the time the pizza box was empty and the wine bottle drained, they were sprawled out on the sofa, laughing like they hadn’t in ages.

The laughter eventually died down, leaving a comfortable silence between them as the night settled in. The living room felt warmer somehow, though it could’ve just been the wine coursing through Harry’s veins—or maybe the way Y/N had let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, his socked feet brushing against hers where she had tucked herself into the corner of the sofa. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

“Remember how we used to do this?” Y/N said softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic edge.

Harry turned his head to look at her, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Except back then, I think we still liked each other.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “We did. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Harry agreed, his smile fading slightly. He let his gaze drop to the rim of his empty glass, his thumb tracing its edge. “I miss that, you know.”

Y/N stilled, her expression unreadable as she studied him. “What, the pizza?” she joked, trying to lighten the moment, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

Harry chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “No, not the pizza. I miss... us. Just being around you. Without all the... mess.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the sound of the baby monitor’s faint white noise the only thing breaking the stillness. Y/N swallowed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “It turned to shit pretty quick, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, leaning back into the sofa and running a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t all bad. I mean, we had good bits too, right?”

Y/N smiled faintly, nodding. “We had a lot of good bits. You were... you are a big part of my life, Harry. That hasn’t changed.”

The way she said his name made his chest ache. It wasn’t angry or cold like it had been before. It was soft, almost hesitant, like she was letting herself feel something she wasn’t sure she should.

“You’re still a big part of mine, too,” Harry said quietly, his green eyes locking onto hers. “I know I never said it enough, but I’m sorry for... for everything. For how things ended.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned her head back against the sofa, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It wasn’t just you, Harry. I wasn’t perfect either. I didn’t know how to handle us falling apart, so I pushed you away.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly fight to stay, did I?” he countered, his voice tinged with regret.

The quiet stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Harry shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the way the room felt so heavy with memories, but he needed her to know he still cared.

“I miss you, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. “I miss you too,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Harry’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in months, it felt like they weren’t running from the truth anymore.

Before either of them could say anything else, a soft cry came through the baby monitor, breaking the moment. Y/N sighed, pushing herself up from the sofa.

“I’ll check on him,” she said, her voice steady, though her cheeks were flushed.

Harry watched her leave the room, his heart still racing. Maybe they weren’t fixed yet—maybe they never would be—but god did it feel nice to sit with her and just talk. No fighting, no spewing insults about the other and the generations before them, just talking and laughing.

The soft cry over the monitor faded as Y/N disappeared upstairs, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit living room. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as he stared at the nearly empty wine bottle on the table. The weight of what they’d just admitted hung heavy in the air.

When Y/N returned a few minutes later, she looked slightly frazzled, her hair falling loose around her face. “He’s fine, just kicked his blanket off,” she murmured, brushing her hands down her thighs as she sat back down. This time, though, she didn’t tuck herself into the far corner of the sofa. She settled closer, close enough that Harry could feel the faint warmth radiating from her.

“You’re good with him,” Harry said, his voice low.

Y/N gave him a soft smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had enough practice babysitting for Sarah. Besides, he’s an angel compared to some of the kids I’ve looked after.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes lingering on her face. There was a glow to her in this light, something he hadn’t allowed himself to really notice in so long. “Still. It suits you.”

Y/N arched a brow, her lips twitching. “What does?”

“Taking care of someone,” Harry said simply, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always had that in you.”

She looked at him, something flickering in her gaze that she quickly masked with a light laugh. “Well, I used to take care of you, didn’t I? Someone had to make sure you didn’t live off toast and pot noodles.”

“Oi,” Harry protested, though his grin gave him away. “You loved doing that.”

“Maybe I did,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. Her fingers played with the hem of her jumper, a nervous habit Harry recognised all too well.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, the kind of quiet that demanded to be broken. Harry shifted slightly, his knee brushing against hers again—but this time, neither of them moved away.

“Y’know,” Harry said after a moment, his voice dropping, “you still do that. Get under my skin, I mean.”

Y/N blinked, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction more, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint mix of his cologne and wine. “I mean,” he murmured, “you walk into a room, and I can’t think straight. Always been like that with you.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her pulse quickening at his words. She should’ve said something to deflect, to break the tension, but she couldn’t. Instead, her eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there just a second too long before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

Harry noticed, of course he did. He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way that made her stomach twist. “You’re doing it now,” he said, his voice softer, more intimate.

“Doing what?” she whispered, her voice betraying her as it wavered.

“Driving me mad.”

Her breath caught as his hand lifted, hesitating for just a moment before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch light but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Harry...” she started, though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she searched his face. “This... this is dangerous.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw before he let his hand fall. “But it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to his mouth again, her resolve faltering. Harry noticed, of course he did, and when he leaned in just a little closer, she didn’t stop him.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips hovering a breath away from hers.

But she didn’t. How could she?

Instead, her hand lifted, resting lightly against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

“Harry,” she said again, this time softer, almost pleading.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, his green eyes locked on hers.

And just like that, the space between them disappeared.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, as if neither of them could quite believe it was happening. Harry’s lips brushed against hers, testing, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his jumper like he might disappear if she let go.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but there was a hunger behind it, a need that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her free hand moving to his shoulder as she tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel the warmth of him, the way his body seemed to press closer to hers with every passing second. It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath.

“This is a terrible idea,” Y/N murmured, though there was no conviction behind her words.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice rough and low, his thumb gently stroking the side of her neck. “But I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. His lips found hers again, more insistent this time, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. She went willingly, her own hands sliding up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

The kiss grew hotter, more desperate, as the tension that had been building between them finally began to unravel. Harry’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her jumper, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her waist, and she shivered at the contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. His green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We shouldn’t...” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But do you want me to stop?” he asked, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her skin.

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

That was all he needed to hear. He captured her lips in another searing kiss, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. They gave in completely, their bodies moving instinctively as they closed the remaining distance between them.

Harry shifted, guiding her back against the sofa until she was lying beneath him, his weight pressing her into the cushions in the most delicious way. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she tilted her head to give him better access.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice raw and full of emotion.

She froze for a moment, her fingers stilling in his hair as his words sank in. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as if he’d just realised what he’d said.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “I’ve missed you every single day.”

Her breath caught at the vulnerability in his voice, and she felt her resolve crumbling all over again. “I missed you too,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “More than I wanted to.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to hers as he closed his eyes. “Then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Maybe we just... don’t fight it this time.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing as she tried to process everything. But when he kissed her again—soft and slow, like he was trying to prove just how much he meant every word—she realised that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

She stayed quiet as he began trailing wet kisses down her neck, and instead focused on the warmth flowing through her body from the wine. "How mad do you think Sarah and Mitch would be if we had sex on their sofa?"

Harry laughed, and tucked his head into the crook of her neck, placing a final kiss before pulling away and scanning the room. "Blanket?" He asked, turning his head to look down at her.

He'd barely done more than a hickey or two and she already looked out of it. Her pupils were slightly blown, her lips puffy and pink, and her cheeks were flushed. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Blanket.” She reaffirmed, and moved out of the way so that he could lay it beneath her.

Harry smirked as he grabbed the throw blanket folded neatly on the armrest. “You’re really making this easier for me, aren’t you?” he teased, shaking the blanket out before draping it over the sofa.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the soft smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Just trying to be considerate. Sarah’s got that whole ‘no shoes in the house’ rule. I think ‘no bodily fluids on the furniture’ falls under the same category.”

He let out a low laugh as he smoothed the blanket into place. “Good point. But for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at her, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to babysit tonight.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“God knows, but definitely not this,” he said, turning to face her. His expression softened as his eyes met hers. “But I’m not complaining.”

Her cheeks flushed under his gaze, and for a moment, the teasing faded. The air between them felt charged, buzzing with an unspoken intensity. Harry took a step closer, his hands finding her hips as he guided her back against the sofa.

“Still sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low as his thumb brushed the hem of her jumper.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she nodded. She knew this was reckless and fraught with risks. Still, the way he was looking at her with such raw, unfiltered longing made her forget every reason to say no.

“Positive,” she murmured, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jumper to pull him closer.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He leaned down, kissing her with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. His hands slipped under her jumper, his fingertips grazing her skin and making her shiver.

She gasped softly, her back arching against him as he pressed her down onto the sofa. His weight over her was comforting and electrifying all at once, grounding her in the moment even as it made her pulse race.

“Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smiled, sliding her hands down to the hem of his jumper and tugging it upwards.

He helped her pull the jumper over his head before tossing it onto the floor. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, leaning back down to kiss her.

“And you love it,” she shot back, her fingers tracing along the lines of his chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I really do.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. She let out a shaky breath as his fingers brushed the edge of her bra, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her hips against his.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside fading into nothingness. Every kiss, every touch felt like a silent conversation, years of unspoken words expressed in the warmth between them. As her hands roamed and his lips pressed against her skin, the quiet sounds of their shared breaths and murmured names filled the room. Neither of them cared about the consequences; all that mattered was right now.

“Can I take your bra off?” Harry questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She laughed, reaching behind her back to unclip it and pulling it off.

Whatever snarky comment Harry had ready to shoot back melted on his tongue as looked down at her. “My gorgeous girl.” He mumbled, ducking his head to kiss along her right boob.

Y/N moaned as his tongue found her nipple, swirling around and biting it gently. “Harry, please.”

“Shh. I’m getting there. Be patient.” Harry muttered. reaching down to pull her thighs apart and pushing his hips against hers.

She arched her back into his chest at the friction, and lifted up her hips, chasing against his as he moved away.

“Turn around.” Harry pulled away, his hand gently rubbing against her hip bone.

“What?” She asked.

“Turn around.” He repeated, this time squeezing down ever so slightly on her hip.

She nodded her head and rolled onto her stomach. “But what if I wanted to see you?” She asked, feigning sadness in her voice.

Harry grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand whilst the other worked on pulling off his belt. “What if you don’t deserve to see me?” He mocked, looping the belt around her hands and pulling tightly.

“Oh my.. fuck.” Y/N mumbled, dropping her head onto the sofa and arching her back slightly.

Harry’s hips met hers once again, but this time there was a sense of urgency behind. “You alright?”

“Oh my god, yes.” She practically moaned.

Harry smirked, and grabbed the edge of her leggings, pulling them, along with her panties; down her legs in one quick motion. “Good.”

He leaned down and began to pepper kisses down her lower back, kissing any freckle or small childhood scar he could find, before finally sinking his teeth into the meat of her right hip.

Y/N yelped, and Harry’s hand pulled her back in place before she could move away. “You’re fine.” He said, and dipped his head to lick a bold line straight up her slit.

Y/N moaned, her body jostling forwards as Harry wrapped his arms around her thighs and dove right in, not leaving a single spot neglected.

He began to nibble her clit, his thumb quickly moving to rub soothing circles soon after whilst he pulled back to admire what was below him.

“You have got the most gorgeous pussy.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against her right asscheek and lifting his hand to brush through her. He pushed in his fingers, scissoring them open and using the sound of her moans as motivation.

“Are you not going to thank me? Maybe I should just stop since clearly you’re not appreciating what I’m doing for you.” Harry sighed, pulling away completely and sitting up against her.

“No— no Harry please. I’m begging you- please. It feels so good I— Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Please, Harry, don’t stop.” Her words were blending into one, and Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He’d barely touched her like he used to, and this is how she was reacting?

“There’s my good girl.” He smirked, unbuttoning his jeans and shimmying them down his legs. His ground his clothed dick against her, hoping she didn’t notice the way he barely choked out a moan at such a simple touch.

His boxers were gone soon after, and finally, it felt like it was just them again. It felt like everything Harry had wished for had come true, and he was finally where he was supposed to be.

He reached down to grab her hands, bending over her to place a brief kiss against them, and pulled away once again. He rubbed the head of his dick through her slick, collecting as much as he could before hunching over and spitting directly above her clit, moving his dick to chase after it and distribute it.

“You ready?” He questioned.

“So fucking ready. Please, Harry-” Y/N cut herself off with a moan, her hands squeezing against nothing and her already overstimulated body was shaking as he pushed in.

Harry threw his head back as he groaned, his hands twitching with the need to grab something as the pleasure took over.

He waited a couple of moments before pushing in the rest of the way, gradually speeding up until finally his hips were flush against her ass. He bent over her once again, his hands resting against her head.

“I love you, my gorgeous girl.” He whispered, kissing the back of her head.

“I love you more. I’m sorry.” She whispered back, her voice cracking with what was either pleasure or regret.

Harry shushed her gently, and straightened back up so he could hold her hands. He pulled out ever so slightly, and pushed back in, repeating until eventually his whole dick, bar the tip, was out. He waited another moment, and, despite it being extremely unnecessary, spat once again, this time onto his dick, and slammed his hips back against her.

Y/N practically screamed as the pleasure set in, moving her head to bite against the throw pillow as her hips moved against Harry’s, desperate to get him deeper into her.

“Fuck I’ve missed this.” Harry groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Y/N was incoherent. Her moans were gradually getting louder, and she was starting to appreciate Harry making her turn around as she knew that her face would be covered in drool, as well as mascara and lipstick smeared all over.

“Can’t believe you tried to take this away from me. As if you’d ever find someone who could make you feel like this.” He pushed down on her back, forcing her to arch even further into him.

“Please, Harry.” She cried, her jaw aching from the excessive force she was using to bite down on the pillow as a muffler. “Please don’t stop, I'm so close.”

Harry slowed down, his hand dropping from her hip down to her clit and rubbing slow, small circles, whilst his other worked on unbuckling the belt from her hands. “Turn around. ‘Wanna see your pretty face.”

He pulled out of her gently, and watched as Y/N shakily rolled over, her face flushed and makeup ruined beyond repair. “Hi, baby.” Harry grinned, caressing her cheek gently.

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice raw and rasp. Once again, their hands connected, and Harry pushed back into her, their moans harmonising as Y/N clenched around him.

“I’m so fucking close.” Y/N whined, her nails digging into the backs of Harry’s hands whilst her pushing up her chest to rest against his.

“I know, baby. Hold it for me, alright? I’m almost there.” Harry muttered, resuming biting at the hickeys he had abandoned prior.

His hips began to match his harsh assaults on her neck, each thrust matching the way he nipped, licked, and suckled any bare spot from her jawline to her collarbone.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum. C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” Harry whined, dropping her hand and moving to rub circles on her clit.

Y/N was incomprehensible. Her jaw was dropped, and her mouth open as she cried out a mixture of curses and praises as she came, Harry tailing along soon after, whimpers escaping the two of them. He slowed down, now ever so slightly moving inside of her as he watched a blend of their cum fall out of her with every movement.

“Well, shit.” He chuckled, brushing the sweat and hair off of her forehead gently.

Y/N nodded, a small giggle escaping her lips as she looked around the room. “How long do you think it’ll take Mitch and Sarah to figure out what he did?”

Harry smirked, and stared down at her with a look of admiration in his eye. “You open the windows and chuck the blanket in the wash, and I’ll run us a bath?”

“Deal.”

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

taglist - @empathyroad @harryshouseo1 @hannah9921 @hisparentsgallerryy @secretisme4 reply here or dm to be added!

[zerocoded]

summary: headcannons of what caleb is like in bed.

authors note: help me i need him chronically. this is my opinion babes! i can't shut my brain off when it comes to him anymore. waiting for the 22nd to come is like waiting for my husband get back from war. everything here is what i read about his character so far, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw content • minors dni • SMUT • talks about size kink, teasing, fingering with his prosthetic bla bla, idk what else. A LOT. • this is basically word vomit, i'm sorry.

word count: 1.2k

caleb might be more conscious of his touch, especially with his bionic arm, carefully adjusting his strength to ensure comfort and gentleness.

i KNOW bro can’t keep his grunts down, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

he wants to consume you entirely, like occupy your every thought and feeling when getting intimate with you.

he’s a sucker for your reactions, so attentive to the point it makes you shy.

ALSO he’s so big—like everything about him is just massive. we know that already, right? sometimes HE forgets.

i just got a feeling that caleb's bed is enormous, like king-size for real, made for someone his size. like BIG BIG. because he's a big boy.

he kind of doesn’t fully grasp how strong he is or how big he is compared to you, like the first time he closed his hands around your throat, he gave you whiplash.

everything in his apartment is set high to accommodate him, and you struggle with it constantly.

his frame completely consumes you, overwhelming but in a way that feels safe.

one time, tara walked in on the two of you mid-moment, she was sleeping on your apartment for some reason and caleb came from the farspace fleet really missing you. she asked caleb where you were, and he just casually said "here," while tara bolted out, flustered beyond belief when she realized what was going on.

you were literally UNDER him and to anyone passing, it looked like he was alone lol.

you two have little banter all the time, thanks to growing up together as childhood friends.

tell me i'm not getting too ahead of time, but i gotta say this. when you’re pregnant, caleb has this habit of saying “shush, i’m talking to the baby” every time he rests his head on your belly.

THAT'S SO CUTE, RIGHT? URGH.

he loves being in control – not in a domineering way, but because he wants to make sure you feel completely taken care of. he’s meticulous, learning what you like and pushing those boundaries just enough to drive you wild.

his size is an obsession for him – he’s hyperaware of how much bigger he is compared to you, and he uses it to his advantage. holding your wrists in one hand, pinning you beneath him, or just the way his body completely overshadows yours—it gets him going every time.

he’s vocal, but only for you – low grunts, whispered praise, and occasionally losing control with a deep growl when you hit just the right spot. but he’s also hyperaware of how you react, loving every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

a possessive streak – he doesn’t say it outright, but the way his hands grip your hips or how he marks your skin with kisses is all about claiming you. his touch lingers, even when you’re just walking around afterward.

obsessed with eye contact – he insists you look at him, especially in your most vulnerable moments. “keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, his gaze locking you in place as if the world outside the two of you doesn’t exist.

an absolute tease – he loves winding you up, taking his time until you’re begging him to stop playing around. slow kisses down your neck, feather-light touches that leave you trembling—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

his hands – they’re huge and rough, but his touch is incredibly gentle when he wants it to be. he loves how your body reacts to the contrast, and he uses it to his full advantage, whether he’s tracing your spine or gripping your thighs.

THE BIONIC ARM? OH MY GAWD.

he really hates the fact that he can't feel you - at all. but his prosthetic can come in handy sometimes 😏

he could use his arm’s advanced capabilities, like adjustable pressure or vibration, to focus on your pleasure, experimenting with new sensations. GUYS I HAD TO SAY IT.

i just know he teases you gliding the cool metal over warm, flushed skin and eliciting shivers of delight.

not him using it like your own personal vibrator. turning on subtle vibrations during a kiss or when he's fingering you.

he LOVES to explore areas like the neck, back, or thighs, using varying pressures to heighten your sensitivity.

aftercare king – he’s all about making sure you feel safe and comfortable afterward.

he’s a little shy about certain things – despite his confidence, there are moments when he feels self-conscious, like when you run your fingers along the scars on his body. but your touch soothes him, and he grows to crave the intimacy of being vulnerable with you. again, his prothetic can become a insecurity of him on these times.

unexpectedly playful – he likes to keep things fun, especially when the mood is light. sneaky touches, biting your ear just to hear you squeak, or pulling you onto his lap when you least expect it.

easily undone by you taking control – as much as he loves being in charge, when you take the lead, he absolutely melts. seeing you confident and assertive makes him lose every ounce of his composure. I JUST KNOW HE LOVES IT.

praise kink on both sides – he loves telling you how good you’re being, how beautiful you are, and how perfect you feel. but he’s also weak for your praise—if you tell him how much you want him or how amazing he’s making you feel, it’s game over.

a sucker for your scent – burying his face in your neck or your hair is his favorite thing. he associates your scent with safety and home, and it’s an instant comfort for him, even when things heat up. i just know he missed you so much while he was gone.

light experimentation – he’s always willing to try new things if it means making you happy. he might be cautious at first, but your enthusiasm has a way of bringing out his adventurous side.

he’s an absolute wreck for soft moments – when you’re tender and loving, gently tracing his features or whispering sweet things, it undoes him completely. he’s all about intensity, but those quiet, intimate moments leave him weak in the knees.

he’s competitive – if you ever tease him or play hard to get, he rises to the challenge, determined to win you over every single time. and when he does, he’ll make sure you know it.

obsessed with your reactions – he watches your every move, cataloging the way your body arches, the sounds you make, and the way your breath catches. nothing escapes his attention, and he uses that knowledge to drive you to the brink.

neck kisses – his favorite spot to tease and mark. he loves the way you shiver when his lips brush over that sensitive spot just below your ear.

secretly loves when you’re a little rough – tugging on his hair, biting his shoulder, or leaving marks on his skin? he thrives on the proof of how much you want him. it’s like a badge of honor for him.

he’s insanely attentive to detail – he remembers everything you like, from the way you gasp when he kisses your collarbone to how your breathing changes when you’re close. he uses that knowledge to make sure you’re always completely satisfied.

i need to write about him loving us ASAP, bye.

author's note: i came up with these while trying to write for caleb's love language (the thrid chapter) and i thought i could use it as a solo post hehe. see you guys next! send me a request • my masterpost

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[logans-whore]

Hi~

I was reading your old man logan one-shot and mwah chief kiss

Can I ask for some more old man logan and young reader?maybe he's unsure of whether he should give into his desire or keep pushing her away but when he saw her laughing at her phone or talking to a boy friend of hers he loses it?

Or anything like that love yaa

I swear I'm working on my other requests, but holy hell, this caught hold of my brain like a dog with a chew toy and it didnt let go. This can be read as a prequel to this fic, but can be read as a standalone too! Also this turned out way fluffier than I thought it would, but oh well. I hope you like it!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/logans-whore/773031900713451520/may-i-please-ask-you-to-write-something-for-old?source=share

Logan is fully aware that he's too old for you. He's too aware, if you're the one being asked.

The two of you were the only ones to survive the Westchester incident, him because of his healing, you because you hadn't been at the mansion on the day of the incident.

So you, him, and Charles move in together, hiding away. Later, Caliban joins you.

Now, you've had a thing for him for years. But seeing him there, caring for you, for Charles, being protective, and providing? Yeah, that scratches the lizard part of your brain just right.

And he notices, sees the way you look at him like he's the only thing you'll ever want. And he turns you down, over and over again, keeping you away. He's way too old for you, and starting to look it too. You deserve someone young. Someone good, and kind, and caring and perfect, like you.

And you're not the kind of girl to push it. To force a relationship with someone who doesn't want you. (Or so you think. He wants you. Very much. He's just an idiot)

So you put yourself out there. You've been working as a waitress to help pay the bills. And a customer gives you his number, and he's sweet and funny and cute, and you say yes. Thinking this is your chance to get over Logan, to move on, find someone new to love. You start texting him, and he seems great. You really like him, and you think, with time, with patience, maybe you could grow to love him. Not the all encompassing, full body experience that loving Logan is, but maybe a simpler, less painful love.

Logan on the other hand, sees you texting. All the damn time. After several pointed remarks on phones, and how young people should get off them and have a conversation, he finally asks who you're texting.

When you tell him about Adam, the cute guy from the diner, his heart drops. He's grown to love you, to love your kindness, your compassion, the way you look at him, how absolutely fucking stunning you are. And thinking about you with anyone else? Hell no. You're his. Not that you belong to him, but you're his, and he's yours, the way only people in love are each others.

And he can't lose you, he realizes with startling clarity. He just can't.

So the next morning, as you make breakfast, about to start your shift, he slinks iinto the kitchen, looks you dead in the eyes and says. "I love you."

You nearly drop the spatula you're using, choking on your own spit. "W-what?" you sputter, surprised and confused.

"I love you" he says again. You look at him for any sign of him joking, of him playing some fucked up prank. You find none.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before", he continues, like he hasn't just dropped the emotional equivalent of an atomic bomb on you. "I'm sorry. But I love you, honey. And I don't want to see you with anyone else but me. I know-" he hesitates, but continues. "I know I said I'm too old for you. Know I said you should find someone your own age. But I'm taking it back. And I'm asking you, not to fall in love with him. I want you in love with me."

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You- you're serious?"

"I just gave you the cheesiest goddamn speech I've ever given in my life, of course I'm fuckin' serious" He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh, before crossing the distance to stand in front of him and kissing him stupid

"I love you too," You murmur against his mouth, and feel him beam against you, smiling into the kiss. "I'm not gonna fall for him. I'm already in too deep with you"

Hours later, when he's fucking you into the mattress, you cry his name over and over again, and he knows, warm and safe in your arms, in your heart, that you mean it. That you're his, and he's yours.

Logan is full aware that he's too old for you. He loves you anyways.

[velvetvexations]

Please correct me If I'm wrong, but didn't Playdough's whole beef with Bechdel trying to reframe her as a TERF start originally because escentially she wanted to prove that HOMESTUCK is somehow more deep and influencial and important queer media than DTWOF?? It was a poll thing and people where getting mad that homestuck was beating dtwof (this is the homestuck website like cmon) so Playdough started there the discourse of Bechdel being a terf to discredit her work

I have no idea if homestuck is actually that queer in it's content, but this incident made me realize something very common about pretentious cult-like groups like TRF and Tankies.

They want to find the way to parrot that their interests are somehow morally superior and more correct than other's; forcemem can not be just a kink it's actually a culturally significant political practice and forcemasc is just a transmisogynist bastard copy, transfem headcanons can not be just normal fandom shit for enjoyment they are the more correct and intelectual reading an analysis of any character that doesn't adhere to strict tradicional cis gender roles and transmascs headcanons are anti intelectual media illiterate misogyny, homestuck can't be just a popular old webcomic you still like despite It's flaws (like srly It has a shit ton of racism and ableism, it was created on the era of the internet 4chan was more culturally relevant than ever in memes mostly so of course) no It's not a pillar of queerness in fiction and media and the comics created by a literal feminists trans ally buch need to somehow be morally inferior because they're both compiting in a Tumblr poll

AHAHAHAHAHAHA SHE'S STILL DOING IT TOO

I'm sorry, but imagine having this much of a grudge over your fave losing a poll lmao lmao lmao lmao this is so funny oh my God.

But it's especially hilarious because all of what she wrote about June is complete nonsense that was never part of the text. Now let's look at what she had to say about transmasc headcanons:

Welcome to projection playground, ma'am! She's literally using the idea of "legitimate analysis" just to prop up her own headcanon. This is so gutbustingly hilarious. Does she even think it's possible transmascs could have headcanons based in 'legitimate analysis'? Considering the fact that she seems to vehemently insist literally every transmasc headcanon ever is actually transfem, probably not, right? Because she doesn't understand masculinity is revolutionary and transgressive for people who weren't assigned it? Because she's a self-centered moron?

But wait, there's more!

She's so consumer-brained and she doesn't even know it.

I love that her whole personality is structured around being the world's most obnoxious Homestuck fan who uses academic language to build a comfort blanket to soothe her insecurities and lash out at others because it's gender validating if she gets to lash out at trans men the way cis women are allowed to with cis men. Except I've never seen a cis woman do it this ineptly, or so blatantly the product of issues they desperately need to work out.

Anyway, back to Bechdel...

I know I've been ranting about this subject in a general, undirected way all morning, but I'm going to tell you that this is a problem with Plaidos, specifically, which she passes on to her audience:

They don't know what TERFs are.

A TERF has defined political views. There is a lot going on with them. You cannot take one belief or action in particular, such as Bechdel softly supporting some sex-segregated spaces, and call her a TERF when she's praxis in much bigger, material ways. It's not just about Homestuck with Plaidos, or TERFs in general. It's also about the fact that Bechdel ever did anything that had anything to do with the idea that some people are more wymynly than them, which they take personal offense to that overshadows, oh, I don't know, loud and consistent advocacy for children having access to HRT? Any real transfeminist would recognize that matters infinitely more. But with these people, that's not the issue. They don't care about anything but how badly it hurt them to hypothetically not be welcome to a shitty music festival, and Bechdel having went - even if she criticized it's policies - is basically the same as having flaunted her gender assignment to intentionally make them dysphoric.

But Bechdel supports minors getting HRT. She supports them being in women's bathrooms. A lot of TERFs have identical conversations about her.

So what makes her a TERF? Because she went to a party you weren't invited to?

Do you understand how pathetic this makes you look?

It's gross and TERF-y to say trans women as a category are jealous of people AFAB on some level but when you prioritize like this where being let into the club is the one big all-consuming deal over things like Bechdel repeatedly going to bat for minors having HRT, and they obsessively treat trans men the way they do...

Like, listen. TRFs. My friends. You're women. I promise you you're Trve Wymyn. Please get over not having been AFAB. Come to peace with it and accept that people who got what you want are on your side and are happy to support you in being recognized as a woman in spite of what was on your birth certificate. Get over it.

Just get over it.

And also get over your transfem headcanons not being any more textually supported than transmasc headcanons, losers. You're so obviously the ones addicted to seeing yourself reflected in every piece of media you consume if you have to write essays about how it's bad literary analysis to not believe in your strings-on-a-thumbtack-board shit and run down anyone else having headcanons related to their identity. You're not doing literary analysis, you're playing pretend with cartoons for children and getting upset when you see other people having their own fun without you.

One last thing:

EXTREMELY holy shit racist. Do you see what I mean? How TRFs care so much about slights to their Trve Wymynhood over all else that they say shit like this? Like yeah Michfest was basically the KKK, you're right, unimaginably stupid White woman. Remember when Lisa Vogel hung all those trans women to warn us not to vote?

[musings-of-a-rose]

A vampire Benny and werewolf Benny! Can you make more or more stories spiraled off what you have? Those left me thirsty for more. Especially, werewolf Benny! 🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️

Hunter's Moon

Pairing: Werewolf Benny x f!reader (established in Closer, linked in notes)

Word Count: 2100+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Anon, I had some vampire Benny ideas too but since you loved werewolf Benny in Closer, I decided to do a little one shot of those 2!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Masterlist

Fic this one is set in: Closer

“You seem restless tonight baby, are you ok?” I place my hand on his thigh as it continues to bounce. 

“Hhmm? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.”

I shift my head up from where I had been laying against his chest to look up at him. “You know I know when you’re lying, right?”

“That’s not a bond thing.”

“No, that’s an I know you thing. What’s up?”

He sighs and looks down at me, kissing my forehead. “Just a hunter’s moon tomorrow night. Has me all jittery.”

“What’s a hunter’s moon mean to wolves?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. “It’s uh…well we sort of change and um…look for a…mate.”

Ah. “Oh. Like on a hunt?”

He nods. “Yeah I guess. But I already have you. It’s just…hard not to feel the pull.”

I sit up and shift to face him on the couch. “What pull? What’s it feel like?”

Benny takes a deep breath, his eyes unfocused as he thinks. “You know how I always feel more compelled to shift on a full moon?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Well…it’s like that but a lot more intense. The desire to…do you really want to hear all this?”

I smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. “It’s you. And I want to know all of you.”

“Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “Like I said it’s like a regular full moon but more intense. The desire to…chase and find a mate to…”

“Make pups with?”

Benny can’t help but chuckle. “Exactly, yeah. It doesn’t always end in pups though. Often it’s just about a bond. Finding a mate. Even if it’s for that one night. But I have you. I’ll be fine. Just gotta shake it off.”

Shake it off. When has that ever worked for werewolf things?

“Can I help?”

Benny shakes his head. “I don’t think so. But thanks, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips and I don’t know if it’s our bond amplifying it, but I can feel him practically vibrating off the couch. 

“I’ll be home for dinner tomorrow. Gotta stop by Bill’s to make sure that tractor of his is still working. And then I’ll just…lock myself in the basement or something.”

“You sure you don’t want to join your pack?”

Benny shakes his head. “Nah. I want to be with you.” He pushes my head gently back towards his chest as we resume watching whatever is on the tv, my brain rapidly working on a plan to help him.

—----

My heart pounds in my chest as I run through the woods, grateful for the many acres that came with my homestead when I took the vet position. I had stowed the atv a bit back, opting to go on foot the rest of the way. Any moment now, Benny should be getting home and finding my note I’ve left him on the table.

Come and get me.

I know he’ll find me and probably fairly quickly, considering our bond and his heightened senses. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun. I press my back to a tree trunk, my chest rising and falling rapidly while I try to catch my breath. In the distance, I hear a howl, making my bond marks feel warm. 

He’s coming. 

I give myself a few more breaths before I shove off the tree, heading towards the top of this hill that’s slowly trying to kill me. This will be nothing for Benny, however, his large, padded paws will scale this like it’s nothing. Still, I manage to struggle to the top, my hands on my knees as I look around. The moon is bright and full, casting a faint glow around the small clearing ahead. I head through the trees and just make it into the clearing when I hear him, large and heavy paws thudding the ground up the side of the hill. Shit, that’s a lot faster than I anticipated. But then…silence. As I stand in the clearing, looking towards where I came from, I see nothing. I know he’s around, I can feel it. I can feel the tether between us. The wind stills, the night animals growing silent, making my beating heart sound extra loud. If I wasn’t bonded and completely in love with Benny, I would be terrified out of my mind right now. 

A flash of movement from the corner of my eye and I’m running in the opposite direction, pushing my way past the trees on the other side of the clearing, further into the woods. I can hear him behind me, shoving past trees, panting hard, a howl emanating from him. He’s making all of this sound so I hear him on purpose. I know because I’ve seen him move nearly silent. I see another clearing up ahead and I push myself a little harder, a stitch in my side nearly taking me out. But then I’m through the trees, running towards the other side. A sudden, soft nip at my ankle sends me flying, my hands slamming into the ground just inside the clearing. I turn as quick as I can, still on my ass, hands behind me as I crab walk backwards, my eyes scanning the trees.

When I’m a quarter of the way into the clearing, I see him. Benny’s wolf form is large and formidable, nearly 9ft tall when he’s not hunching over, the moonlight shining brightly against his golden fur. He slowly slinks into the clearing, his eyes deadset on me. His massive form somehow squeezes past the last tree when the air around him starts to shimmer and move, like too many things happening at once. Benny, in his gloriously naked human form, doesn’t miss a step, his eyes dark with lust as he stalks towards me. I’m momentarily stunned by how gorgeous he is. Then I remember I’m supposed to be running from him. I scramble up and turn, running as fast as I can for the trees. I only make it halfway across the clearing when his fingers tangle in my hair, yanking me back against him, his other hand snaking around my front as he exposes my neck to him.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” His voice is low, his breath fanning down across my exposed neck. 

I try to struggle against him, halfheartedly because fuck I am so turned on. “Trying to get away from y-you,” I’m still trying to catch my breath, but it’s difficult to focus with him pressed against my back, hard and wanting. 

“Well now, we can’t have that sweetheart.” Benny grips my dress and in one swift yank, rips it in half from my body, my bra quickly following. I try to move but his grip in my hair tightens and I go nowhere. His hand slides in the front of my panties, a low growl coming from his throat when he feels how wet I am. My panties are quickly tossed aside, joining my dress somewhere in the night. 

“Run,” he whispers in my ear, releasing his hold on me. I do as he says, running as fast as I can towards the trees again. But then I feel him behind me and I trip, putting my arms out to stop myself from slamming into the ground. But I don’t hit the ground, Benny’s arm winding around me to soften my blow. The second my knees hit the ground he’s on me, pressing his body over mine. He leans over me, engulfing me with his entire presence, nipping at my ear. 

“Mine,” he growls, sitting back up, digging his nails into my hips as he pushes himself inside me, pulling my hips back at the same time. I cry out, my fingers gripping at the grass and dirt as he fucks me from behind, fast and hard, my bond markings feeling like they’re on fire, but the kind of fire that goes straight between my legs. His grunts and skin on my skin are the only sounds echoing across the clearing.

He pushes me flat into the dirt, my hips angled just enough for him to continue fucking into me. His hands trace down my body, gripping my wrists and putting them above my head. But then he laces his fingers with mine, checking in with me and I squeeze his hand back, letting him know I’m ok. 

“Fuck!” He grunts in my ear, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he cums, warmth filling me up as his hips sputter. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, breathing heavily for several moments. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder before sliding out of me, pulling away from me and allowing me to breathe. 

I just stay in that position, breathing heavy. But then he touches me, a long finger sliding up me until it expertly locates my clit, gently massaging it. I moan into the ground as the fire quickly builds. When he bites my asscheek I come, gasping and panting as he works me through it. I come down, breathing heavy and manage to sit up, turning to look at him and notice him getting hard again. He looks at me looking at him and the air around him starts to shift again, his wolf form seemingly popping out of nowhere. He takes a massive step towards me, using his nose to push me on my back. He shifts my legs open with his nose, baring me to him and the night. He lowers his head and licks me gently, and it’s only after the third pass of his tongue that I remember it has healing powers. A few licks later and he’s done, the soreness I felt a moment before completely gone. The air changes and there he stands again, in all his naked beauty. He offers me a hand and pulls me up, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back, his eyes dark and lustful again. 

“Run.”

—----

I don’t remember how many times we fucked that night, or how we got back to my house, only that I slept until late afternoon the next day. Benny, with his superhuman hearing, comes in the room with a tray of food, a tentative smile on his face. We hadn’t really exchanged words last night, letting both of our primal sides come out instead. 

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” He stands next to the bed awkwardly, like he’s unsure of himself. 

I gesture to set the tray down on the nightstand and he does. I beckon him to me and his eyes light up, immediately sliding into the blankets. He lays his head on my bare chest, his hand coming up to idly play with my nipple. Which does nothing to quell the heat between my thighs. 

“I’m great, Benny. Really. Did…how are you?”

He turns his head to look up at me, his eyes bright blue and wide. “I didn’t hurt you did I? I tried not to. I healed you after. But that moon just does things, and fuck you’re so hot, and I just couldn’t stop. It was like…”

“Like a pull you’ve never felt?” I finish for him.

He nods. “Yeah. Like I couldn’t not be inside you.”

“I felt the same way. I needed you to be with me, inside me, whatever. I just needed you to touch me.”

“It was probably the moon. It makes us all feel like putting babies in our mates. You probably felt it because of our bond.”

“Or maybe I felt it because I have a fucking hot ass husband who loves to turn me on.”

“Hhmm…” he says, his hand sliding down between my legs as they part for him, a gasp coming from me as he starts to slide his finger up and down me. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm, y-yeah,” I whisper, my breathing getting more rapid as he swirls his finger around my clit.

“Well if that’s the case, sweetheart…” Benny removes his hand and starts to slide himself between my legs, winking at me before he disappears under the sheet. 

“Today is all about you, sweetheart.” His voice is slightly muffled by the sheet.

“Benny, you don’t have to-”

“I was talking to this pretty pussy here. Now, let me make up for all the thrusting I did last night.”

—---- 

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe

@greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi 

@wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso 

@theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz 

@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

@amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed  

@ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  

@mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry 

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[rednecknerdguy]

Nifty difty fun fact from your local Exmormon former Missionary here: The more you are immersed in your language you are assigned to learn, the more you will learn it!

“But Rednecknerdguy” you, the mysterious person I invented to make a point says, “But what if I live in the middle-of-nowhere Alabama?”

“My sweet summer ethereal entity made entirely out of whole cloth” I respond lovingly, the way a parent is a child, “I knocked on your door. You see, in the summer heat of Alabama, the state with the worst immigration laws, I became fluent in Spanish.”

While going to the Mormon Missionary Training Center does help jump start your experience in learning a language, the only thing that can really force you to develop is total, complete immersion.

When I was in a companionship (aka, they gave us a roomate we had to stay with the whole time, it was a lot like getting married, but without the sex and I didn’t get a choice of buddy and we worked from 6:30 am all the way to 10:30) that was completely Spanish speaking, we used it all the time. We listened to Latino music, ate latinoamericano cuisine, congregated with Latin American folk, ran church in Spanish, went to fiestas y bodas y bautizos etc you get the picture. We ate, slept, drank, and breathed our new language.

(Figure 1: A missionary team immersing themselves in the language and totally not a weird Mormon themed porno GIF I found on the GIF browser and thought it was hilarious)

So, if you want to learn mandarin (which is what I am doing now) you have to enter the MANDARIN ZONE. Make it as easy as possible for your brain to be FORCED to learn Mandarin. Turn on CCTV or a C-drama (Eternal Love of Dream is the most popular C-drama of all time and it’s free on YouTube). Turn your phone to mandarin and stare at the pictograms. Watch kids education shows and read Chinese picture books, work your way up, reading out loud to yourself as if you are reading out loud to your kiddo.

(Also, holy shit there are so many NSFW GIFs in the browser now, did I miss something or was I too-Mormon-pilled to see them?)

Find someone to practice with. If you can’t, record yourself speaking and listen to it. Converse with yourself if you have to. Your brain is a cool little meat sack and it WILL force you to learn Mandarin if it has to.

When you aren’t doing that, read on Chinese history, learn to write in a script, not just pinyin. When you improve, start reading actual Chinese literature and write essays on it. Write back to 里话, your Chinese “pen pal” and tell him about your life.

You’ll do more than just gain a language: you’ll start to understand culture. That’s the true dividing line of “fluency” and Fluency. While you won’t have the same knowledge and experience of one whose native-born, and you shouldn’t treat yourself as some white savior “Last of the Mohicans”-Mormon Missionary-pasty-mayonnaise-colored-motherfucker, trust me, I would know, but you will have gained a level of insight and empathy most Americans (if you are American) couldn’t even hope to dream of.

I may never grow up mestizo, jegar a ser un inmigrante, jego a ser un ciudadano por un otro país, but I can empathize and comprehend it, at least as best as I can, having chosen to understand and appreciate the language and culture. So, thanks Old Geezers at the Head of the Mormon Church, I guess?

And for the love of Mormon Jesus, You Should Immersion Learn Yourself Now!

Absolutely out of my mind delighted by how many Mandarin teachers on Little Red Book (RedNote?) are putting out videos and doing livestreams teaching non-Mandarin-speaking ex-TikTokers how to speak the language 🥹 I've made more progress in language learning today than I had in four months of language apps 😂

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

Posting drafts

Bakugou x reader

“Katsuki! What the hell happened?”

The current number 2 hero stood just outside the doorway of my apartment, hunched over, one hand gripping his side in pain and the other clutching the doorjamb to keep himself upright.

“Oh my god, did you just come from a fight?? Why aren’t you at the hospital??”

I reached for him even as I scolded him with my words, trying to help keep him upright while also ushering him into my apartment but he stopped me, pushing my hand away gently.

“Y/n…..” he said my name so softly, with such vulnerability. His head was tilted towards the floor so I couldn’t see the look on his face, but it almost sounded like he was…crying?

He lifted his head to look at me then, his face now inches from mine due to the way he towered over me. I was right, his crimson eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I haven’t done it yet, I haven’t become the number one hero. But I….I thought for a moment I wasn’t going to make it out….and there’s still so much I need to tell you.”

He was speaking so pleadingly, I wasn’t used to this side of him. Sure he had opened up to me before, but I’d never seen the look in his eyes right now before. Like he was begging.

“Kats, what are you talking about? We need to get you help. You’re still bleeding.” I try to reason with him, but I know it’s useless. Whatever it is he’s trying to say he has decided he wants to say it now. And if there’s one think I know about Bakugou Katsuki, it’s that when he’s decided something he makes it happen.

“Just wait dammit” he grits out between clenched teeth. This is the Katsuki I’m familiar with: all harsh words and biting tone. But it’s a weak attempt.

“I promised myself, that one day, when I was number 1, when I was worthy, I would ask you to be mine. I’m breaking that promise now, because I realize that I was fucking stupid. All this time spent waiting, I should’ve just told you how I felt.” His fist clenches against the doorway in frustration. “I thought, if I proved I was better than that dumbass Izuku that you would choose me. But I don’t want to wait anymore.”

My mind is reeling trying to take in his words as well as the fact that the man I love is bleeding on the carpet of my apartment building. I open my mouth to speak but it takes a moment for my brain to form the words.

“Izuku? What? What do you mean?”

He scoffs then, lowering his head again. “You know that idiot is in love with you right?…..we both are.”

Love. Izuku….and Katsuki….are in love with, me?

“Katsuki, stop messing around…” I say, but I know he’s not.

He lifts his head so he’s eye to eye with me again, it looks like it takes more effort this time which concerns me.

“Dumbass” his eyes are soft as they look into mine. “You didn’t know?”

My eyes are filling with tears and I’m not quite sure why. I think back on everything, all of our interactions.

“You…love me?” I say, needing to hear him say the words outright to be able to believe them. Afterall, this isn’t just my Katsuki, this is the number 2 hero in all of Japan, one of the most popular celebrities in the world for his looks and passion.

“Yes.” He says quietly. “I love you Y/n. I always have.” He looks so resolute as he says it. Still vulnerable and broken, but also determined.

I don’t even think about it before I’m reaching to cup his jaw in my hands and pulling him into me. And then I’m kissing him. He’s kissing me. After all this time, waiting, pining, I am kissing Bakugou Katsuki. And he’s kissing me back with just as much passion and urgency.

I try to pull back after a moment, suddenly remembering the situation we’re in, but his lips chase mine. He steps forward into me and captures me into another kiss. I make a noise of disagreement in the back of my throat and place my hands on his chest to push him back. By that time we’re both breathless.

“Kats, you’re bleeding.” I remind him.

He laughs and cracks a mischievous smile at me “It’s not my blood”

I look at him in blank shock for a moment before wrinkling my nose and pulling away “ew oh my god that’s worse”

His chuckle turns into a full blown cackle at my disgust. I glare at him as he laughs until he winces and grips his side.

“Alright, you might not be bleeding but you still need medical attention” I chastise him, motioning to where his arm was still cradling his abdomen.

“Calm down princess” he says, smirking fondly at me once again. “I already checked in with the EMTs after the fight, just a few bruised ribs. They put me on leave for a week.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek like I had done to him moments ago. “You should see the other guy.”

I roll my eyes at his cocky attitude but I can’t help smiling as well.

“So,” he pulls me in so that our foreheads are resting against each other. “Can I take that as an ‘I love you too’?”

I nod, his ash blond hair tickling the crown of ny head as I do so. “Yes. I love you too Katsuki.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think as of S6 they should introduce a new school bully type of character ? I mean with Chloe not living in Paris anymore and Lila upgrading to Gabriel's role they did leave the position of pretty school bully/civilian antagonist for the heroes vacant for now.

The point of a school bully character is to cause conflict on the civilian side while the big bad causes conflict on the hero side, letting the show have conflicts on both sides of the mask. But if the big bad hates both Marinette and Ladybug and is actively trying to harm them? Then there's no need for an additional character to cause civilian conflict. The big bad fills both roles.

This is the type of big bad that I'm assuming Lila is going to be. She's once again going to be a student at Marinette's school so she'll once again cause conflicts through manipulation and lies on the civilian side. The only difference is that Lila will now use those conflicts to make akumas. If you want my best guess for how season six is going to play:

We are going to have a ton of episodes that play like clones of the episode Ladybug. Lila will make something bad happen and frame Marinette. Everyone will blame Marinette at first, but the truth will be outed in the end and everyone will be friends again. This will repeat ad nauseam, but no one will ever stop to ask why this keeps happening to Marinette because this is a formula show where the characters can't learn and grow. Marinette constantly looking bad will somehow never make people think less of her either because, once again, formula show.

That all sounds deeply aggravating to me and is one of the two main reasons why I keep saying that I have no plans to watch season six. The writers have always taken an in-your-face approach to Lila where the audience is extremely aware of every lie she tells while the characters are somehow totally oblivious. This is probably done so that the little kids who are watching at home can follow along, but I think it's selling kids short. Kids are smarter than this. You don't need to be this obvious especially since being this obvious makes the Lila-centric plots unbearable.

Because Lila's lies are so obvious that even a toddler could spot them, she comes across as ridiculously overpowered and everyone else ends up looking like a gullible idiot. I don't expect either of those elements to improve. In fact, while I'm expecting Marinette to suffer the most, I'm actually more upset about what this is going to do to Alya because the writing tends to drag her character through the mud whenever Lila is around. The idea that we're in for multiple seasons where Alya goes Lila-brained makes me sick. It was bad enough when it was just an occasional episode. I have no interest in watching it become Alya's new normal. I also don't see how another path is available to her so long as the show remains an episodic formula show where every episode stands alone.

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 06: My Defender

Immediately after receiving the message, I hurried to the headmaster's office. There, I found Caleb waiting on one of the seats outside. His white uniform was covered in mud, he had bruises all over his body, one side of his face was slightly swollen, and there was a bleeding wound at the corner of his mouth.

"Caleb? What happened to you?"

I sat down beside him and held his hand timidly out of fear of hurting him. Caleb didn't look at me and turned his face away.

"Caleb?" I pulled his hand, still he refused to look at me. So I wrapped him in my arms. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Caleb sat still and let me hold him for a while longer. Even though he didn’t respond, I could guess what had happened on the way here. I overheard the other students gossiping that there had been a fight between Caleb and another fifth grader, I just didn’t know why.

After a while, Caleb seemed to calm down, he took my hand off and started talking:

“I’m fine. Gran is talking to the headmaster inside.”

“Why didn’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“I’m all right.”

He responded, even waved his arms and legs to let me know that, unlike the other children who were crying and running into the nurse's office, he was still fine. But I just frowned at him.

“What happened?” I asked. Caleb had never caused trouble at school. He had always been a good student, a well-liked boy by both teachers and his peers. His energy was all for sports and extracurricular activities. I never imagined seeing him in a situation like this.

Caleb didn’t want to tell me, but after some pleading, he finally spoke: 

“They were talking bad about you.”

“Huh?” I was stunned. Caleb simply explained that not everyone in school liked me. They made up stories and said negative things about me out of envy. Those words reached Caleb and turned him enraged. As a result, he gave them all a short trip to the nurse's office.

After hearing this, I gently gripped his hand. The sight of him using Evol to hang a few kids on a tree must have been hilarious. I was very grateful that he was so protective of me. However, I wasn't planning to be the cause of his troubles.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” I said. “Because they’re not important to me. I only care what Caleb thinks of me…”

“You are the most wonderful person in my eyes!” Caleb replied without a thought. “If anyone dares to say anything bad about you, I’ll put them up the tree again—Ouch…”

Caleb grimaced and gently massaged the wound on his face. I pulled his hand away, saying, “When I fall or get hurt, you always blow on my wound, right?” I puffed out my cheeks and blew gently on the wound on Caleb’s face. HDespite being a little taken aback, he obediently sat still. “After that…”

I leaned a bit closer to him and delicately kissed his injured cheek, just like he had kissed the cut on my palm when I was careless before.

“This is a blessing of speedy recovery for you…”

*

* *

Opening the headmaster’s office door, I saw the kid sitting alone outside. One of his cheekbones was swollen, his clothes were untidy and covered in mud. He peered up at me with determination and a hint of guilt.

“Am I in trouble, Mom?”

In that child, I saw the imprints of the boy who had been by my side many years ago.

“Of course you are. Violence is not the way to solve problems. I've taught you better than that."

The child dropped his head, disappointed. My severe expression eased, and I softly ruffled his hair. "You also need to know that it was the right thing to do to stand up for your friend."

He glanced up at me with a cheerful expression. I added, “However, next time, remember to use your brain, not your brawn. You're just like your father.”

The child smiled and grasped my hand tightly. On the way home, an airship sailed overhead from Skyhaven. The little boy waved up and said:

“I think Dad will be home soon!”

“Let’s hurry then. How about we throw him a lovely welcome back party at home?"

[riddlers-left-buttcheek]

Commission Advice? (pls help)

Hey heyy

I wanna start doing commissions, but I've never done it before, and have no idea where to start. So I thought I'd make this post and ask any artist, that would like to share how they go about commissions, for advice.

I've summed up some of the questions that came to mind below the cut. I would want to take requests outside of Tumblr as well, just fyi. I'm well aware that most of what I ask depends on the individual artist and their works, and that there won't be a single formula to follow - I'd just like to gain a bit of perspective and see how different people go about these things, so that I can get an idea for myself.

Any helpful links to other posts or websites on this topic are much appreciated 💚

Replies to this in DMs are fine too ☺️

Questions below ⬇️

Communication?

Do you text with the client entirely through Tumblr (etc.) DMs, or do you use a different platform (like Discord, WhatsApp)?

Pricing?

My biggest issue is how much to charge for an art piece. I know it depends on multiple factors, like what type of drawing it is, is it lineart only, is it in colour, etc. Then there's also taxes. I've looked at a couple artists, but the prices vary so widely, and I have no idea where to put myself on that spectrum. I also have a huge problem knowing my worth, which definitely doesn't help.

Payment?

Which payment method do you use? My first thought was PayPal, I also read that many people use Stripe (that I never heard of before my research). And when do you ask for the transaction to be made? I've seen 50% upfront, the other 50% once it's done a lot. Some say to not give the customer the finished piece until you've received 100% of the money.

Slots?

How do you decide on how many you have available? Do have a fixed number or just take requests until you think you can't take any more?

Time?

How long does it take you to finish a request? Again, I know it depends on many many things. A couple examples would already help a lot.

Updates? Previews?

Do you give the client in-between updates on your progress? Do you send a preview before sending the finished piece? I've read that, before sending the final file, you should always have the images in low quality and with a watermark over it.

Changes?

If the client is dissatisfied with the final piece, do you allow changes? If yes, how many, where do you draw the line? Do you charge extra? Also, what do you do if the client doesn't like the entire thing?

Licensing

I absolutely suck at this, my brain just doesn't want to comprehend legal language. So most I've read on this, I still don't fully understand, but probably because I've never put it to practice. Is there a specific type of licensing you use? What do you tell your client on what they can do, but more importantly, can't do, with the art you create for them?

Final files?

In which file format do you send the finished art piece to the client? I was thinking pdf, maybe jpg and png? Also, how do you send it? In DMs? Per email?

Scams?

Also one of the more important questions for me, since I get paranoid about these things easily (and turn out to be right most of the time). Any advice on scams? I've read Instagram is filled with them, and to best avoid requests over Insta alltogether. Any experiences you've had, anything I should definitely look out for?

Any other advice?

Anything at all. I'm probably definitely overthinking this and it's most likely really not that complicated, but I'm a very anxious, insecure and paranoid person. 🙈 So I'll take any and all advice I can get.

Thank you 🤗💚

[curiosity-killed]

curio's chaotic guide to corralling brain squirrels ✨for Capitalism✨

obligatory disclaimer: my only qualifications are having lived with Cocaine Squirrels In My Brain for my entire life and getting the fun experience of people regularly telling me "you can't have adhd, you're too organized/successful/put together" meanwhile i am regularly held captive by my brain zooming through deep dives on cicada facts at 1 AM on a work night

first off, the general overarching bits:

Come in at 70%. I tell this to literally everyone and am stealing it from my sister, but basically—don't come into your job at 100%. That 100% will be taken for granted by you and your coworkers and become the expectation, meaning when you have a day where the brain is holding you hostage or you're tired or hungover or for whatever other reason can only give 50%, it will be a crisis. Come in at 70%, so 50% isn't a huge deal and you can whip out the 100% for some special sparkle times.

Embrace the good bits. look, lbr. cocaine squirrels are not a great time, generally speaking, in a corporate 9-to-5 space. BUT sometimes there are perks. for instance, I am the person you want in a (corporate) emergency because the right pressure (and coffee and high BPM music) makes the squirrels band together and pull some damn good shit off in crunch time. whatever quirk you feel you can leverage, do it.

okay now more squirrel-corralling thoughts (am I doing this instead of my actual job? obviously.)

build a system of systems

okay i know if I say anything about a planner or to-do list, I will be shot on sight but. well. this is about planners and to do lists

I am a chronically aspirational planner user. I love the concept of planners. love to have such a tidy and organized way of going about life. And I can use planners—for about 1-3 months at a time, max.

what I've found works best for me is to have kind of a rotation of task tracking systems: sometimes my planner*, sometimes sticky notes plastered across my desk/wall, sometimes color-coded to do lists in an actual notebook, sometimes color-coded to do lists in my dry erase notebook, sometimes notes on my computer.

I don't think it super matters what you use so much as it matters to have things in place that you can swap to when your brain stops liking the one you're using

*this isn't an ad but I rlly like the Rocketbook planner specifically because it doesn't have a timeframe, so you don't have to worry about "wasting" it during the months you're not using it. just wipe it down and start fresh whenever it's back to being useful

agree to slightly more than you should (but watch out!)

if i have a normal workload, the effort it takes to make myself Do The Thing goes up by about 50% with a negative relationship to the quantity of work. ergo I am best off if I am just slightly overutilized—if I have about 9 hours of work to do rather than 8. That doesn't mean I always work a 9 hour day (because the squirrels and I fucking hate that) but it means there's just a little additional pressure to help make it easier for my brain to, y'know, execute.

THAT SAID, it is really easy to fuck this up. don't be like me and wind up basically doing an entire contract solo (that was supposed to be a 9-person team)!!! it's bad!

mostly i think this is trial and error, so figuring out the right balance for yourself will take getting it wrong some of the time.

the squirrels crave that novelty

this is also related to the first point, but I've found I get more done if I let myself bounce between projects/tasks more than probably makes sense to people who aren't possessed by manic rodents in their brain.

I try to break down tasks in a way that lets me cross something off (dopamine! or. something??) and lets me skip over to something different/novel as a break (e.g., today I need to copy edit a bunch, draft some appendices for a different project, and create an autopopulating tab for an internal project—so I copy edited one whole section, skipped over to the appendices to get a first pass down, hopped back to the next section of copy editing, and then switched to the internal project).

too much of this can feel like playing pinball with your brain, but giving myself the option to switch out into something different helps keep me from getting into the Dreaded Tedium Stage of things

flexibility and structure

this is going to depend some on your work structure, but use what flexibility you can. My work offers a flex schedule, meaning I can take a four hour break in the day as long as I make those hours up somewhere else. I don't. necessarily recommend?? taking a 4 hour break BUT sometimes the squirrels unionize and demand I vacuum the living room, and trying to ignore it and work will be infinitely slower and more exhausting than if I just get up and vacuum and then get back to work. other times, the squirrels stage a sit-in protest and i am stuck scrolling tumblr aimlessly or re-reading fanfic for no reason and then at 8 PM they decide they actually are willing to do The One Goddamn Task i absolutely must do.

it sucks and I genuinely really hate this part of ADHD, but the best option I've found is to sometimes let them win in the moment and come back to the challenge/ask at a better time (for instance, my energy/focus tends to be worst in the afternoon and much better in the evening, so it's easier for me to get something done in the evening than fighting squirrels all afternoon).

...and on the flipside, where you can impose some self-made structure, it can also help get the squirrels in line. calendar holds (i.e., putting an event on your calendar that's just for a task/project and turning on do not disturb for notifications) can help with this if you're able to stick with them (ime this is a skill that has to be built and practiced), organizing things by 'must do' vs 'quick wins' can help, etc. as with everything, it's a process, but finding a balance between where you can flex and where you can lean on structure to help you along has been beneficial to me

anyway idk if any of this is new or helpful but my personal squirrels have been sated and i do. unfortunately. actually need to work now kbye

[no-where-new-hero]

as requested, here's my own maud story!

my mom got me the boxed anne set for my 8th birthday, and i know i liked the books a good deal, but they didn't really individuate themselves too much in my consciousness at first--they (and the sullivan adaptation) mostly just joined ranks with little women (and the 1994 movie) in my head as "inspirational classic books about bookish girls." quite honestly i think i was more a fan of louisa may alcott from ages 9-11.

and then! i think i must have reread the anne series at 11-12, because suddenly i got very interested in lm montgomery. i pored over the little page at the back that listed the other books she wrote, and most promising seemed to be her second-longest series, the emily trilogy.

now, i have a very very dim memory of the emily books sitting on my parents' bookshelves when i was like 6 years old. i want to say i specifically remember this cover of emily's quest because she looked pretty and interesting. but after we packed up and moved house, the emily books went back to my grandmother's place. so 12-year-old me wrote to my aunt (who was living with grandmother) and asked her to mail me the emily trilogy. she complied.

i tell you, my life changed. yes, i loved anne. but emily got inside my brain and my blood and never let go. the writing, the story, the characters. i read my family's copies of the books to pieces, went out to buy my own, and wore those out with rereading too (emily climbs is currently held together by tape). i yearned for a bestie like ilse. i hoped for a mentor like mr. carpenter. i gave up my half-baked childish dreams of being an olympic figure skater or a broadway performer and decided to climb the alpine path. i always liked writing, and i was inspired by jo march to "scribble," but maud, in these books, made writing as a career something i could aspire to.

from there, i started reading maud biographies and any blog posts i could scrounge up about her and her work. strangely enough, it took me a few years to read the rest of her canon--first blue castle, then tangled web, then magic for marigold, jane of lantern hill, and finally the pat books, which i think i read after the main fever had kind of left me because those always feel most tenuous in my mind. in the midst of all this, i kept rereading emily and anne. i picked my favorites (climbs for emily, house of dreams and rilla of ingleside for anne) and made them my personality.

my kind of obsessive desire to pattern my life on a maud heroine has not always gone well--my being totally innocent of what a dean priest might look like nowadays could have ended EXTREMELY badly in one situation i put myself into because i didn't know any better--but i also owe so much of the interior of my brain to her. i owe so much of how i write, how i look at the world, to her.

and i think part of it is the way she gives so much of herself through her books; not just the autobiographical moments, but the humor, the conflicting points of view, the moments of absurdity. she writes about life in a way that feels mostly real but also a little aspirational. even in books where the depression threatens to swamp her, she never forgets that there is spring.

i'd love to hear people's l.m. montgomery origin stories! how did you first find her work? what was the first book that really spoke to you? did she take time to grow on you? what do you think was the feature of said book that made you fall in love? please, fill the tags with your tales :)

[erenstitanweave]

❥HOW WE LOVE III

pairing: various x reader (vi, caitlyn, vander)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so, this is officially a new series! please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

VI

giving:

poor vi, her eldest daughter syndrome bleeds through every aspect of her life (relatable but we move on)

all jokes (are we joking though??) aside, i think vi would be hesitant to love quickly or even love at all

vi isn't someone who shows her love through words though, so i feel like if she really began to care and love you, she would show it though her actions

i feel like her main type of acts of service would be protecting you in some manner, whether it be verbally or physically

she's genuinely afraid of losing you, so the protective nature would be slightly overbearing in cases where she's on the edge, but other than that, it's pretty standard.

quality time is another big one for her, not just because it's also a way for her to trust you, but because she'd quite literally just want to get to know you better

i could see this being the case whether or not you live the same type of life (i.e: being a zaunite or not)

i feel like she's seen enough to know that regardless of what side you're on, experiences vary for everyone, and she'd just want to know yours and through that, open up to you

small side tangent, but she's TOUCHY.

once she's attached to you, so are her hands. they quite literally are always on you in some way, whether that be through subtle touches (i.e: letting her hand graze against your side when she walks past you, her hands lingering too long as she's holding you, etc.) or through much more obvious ones like an arm wrapped around your waist

receiving:

although she is a protecter by nature, this causes her to be very wary of people and not very trusting of just anyone

i feel like she wouldn't just prefer acts of service but she would need it in order for her to begin to trust you

acts of service, subconsciously or not, are vital to slowly letting down her walls and letting her become trust worthy of you, but once they're down, it's game over

we see in the show how she is once she trusts someone, she shakes off the shell she shows the world and just becomes herself.

i feel like she'd love someone who can't keep their hands off her (except in the obvious situations)

even lingering gazes would make this girl WEAK and she knows it, so just imagine what having your hands all over her does to her brain (short answer: she short circuits)

much like vander, i think a part of her craves words of affirmation because of how her past mistakes constantly haunt and consume her being

even though a part of her knows it isn't her fault things turned out the way it did, a part of her mind won't allow her to believe it

even if she never might truly believe or accept this fact, hearing you tell her good things about herself and praise her makes her head spin with this feeling she can't explain, but all she knows is that it's one she'd never let go

VANDER

giving:

vander to me is probably one of the more protective characters in the show and i think his love languages in terms of giving reflect that heavily

i personally think he'd adore quality time the most, being the man he is, he doesn't really get much time to himself outside of his kids and dealing with the Lanes

it doesn't really matter what kind of quality time to him either imo, i think he'd be most comfortable with just being in your presence, even if you two aren't saying anything

one of his favorites moments though, is seeing you with his kids

he adores seeing you with them, the sight warming his heart knowing the family he works so hard to keep together is happy

words of affirmation i can see being another huge one for him, he'd definitely let you know that you're doing good in whatever you may be doing or even just making it through each day

he'd often pull you aside to let you know though, wanting his words to only be for you and not the prying eyes of others (or the kids potentially listening in on you both)

i could see vander being into physical touch, but only very slightly if it's in public

if you were behind the bar with him, he'd ever so slightly graze the small of your back with his palm or subtly grab onto your waist as he cleaned off the bar

he's an asshole though (lovingly, of course) and would do this especially if you were talking to someone just to get a laugh out of it

he'd be extra careful with this though, as he knows that he constantly has eyes on him, ones that could be dangerous to you if he overdoes his affections

receiving:

i could see vander loving words of affirmation in return, he definitely needs to hear that he's doing a good job taking care of his kids (especially when he feels like they fuck up because of him)

i also can see him holding a lot of doubts about past decisions in all aspects, so just hearing you tell him that he's doing good and that everything will be alright grounds him more than anything

even just telling him that he's a good father, even with his faults and past mistakes will make him feel so much better, no doubt making him fall for you even more than he thought possible

he's the biggest sucker for physical touch too, especially really subtle ones just for the two of you

don't get him wrong, he loves big gestures of physical affection, but he's not alone with you often, making the subtle ones happen a lot more often

he definitely loves holding hands and interlocking fingers especially, the latter being the one you two do more often when around most people

but when the last drop is closed to outsiders and is usually just benzo, the kids, and yourselves, he's all over you

he'll mostly have you in his lap if you're not off with the kids, or just hugging you from behind

CAITLYN

giving:

this girl is a bit of a tough one for me i won't even lie, but she's very well meaning in most aspects

i feel like she'd be into quality time and gift giving honestly

hear me out though, living in piltover her whole life and only recently seeing for herself how the world is and how things can change in an instant makes me think she'd gravitate towards spending time with you in one way or another

it doesn't even have to be explicitly spending time together either, just the fact that you'd be near her would be enough, especially if you're close enough to where she could protect you if need be

her protective nature is one reason why time with you is so sacred to her, not only that she'd be able to cherish her time with you, but that she'd truly be able to appreciate life in it's entirety

the gift giving aspect simply stems from her being wealthy (well not really)

i just see her as someone who expresses herself and what she wants to say with actions, and those actions are gifts

doesn't matter what you like honestly, she'd get it somehow. luxurious clothes? boom, right there on your shared bed. foods or sweets? she somehow has the entire stock right in front of you with a small smile on her face

both of these, to me, just stem from her innate desire to make you happy

she wants to give her lover the world, and with all she's seen in such a short amount of time after being spoonfed certain things about the world, she wants to make sure you're happy with her for as long as you both live

receiving:

receiving is a slight improvement but honestly she screams physical touch and words of affirmation yearner

think about it, being as skilled as she is, she's probably gotten praise about it from everyone

from you, though? it's way different in her mind, especially if you actually talk about why you give her the praises you do

she's expected the praise by now, but to her, it'd feel different because with you, it didn't feel..obligatory or forced

it wouldn't feel like the stuffy, fake pleasantries she'd be used to being in such a high place of power all her life, but something much more sincere and loving

she'd crave it, even going so far as to push herself beyond her limits just to hear you praise and support her for doing so

physical touch to me is another big one for her, i could see touching being a huge factor for her simply because of the intimacy

she most likely has never had anyone as close to her as her lover, so the sheer intimacy with even the slightest of touches knowing that she will only allow this from you is mindblowing for her in the best ways possible

[alicefromwhichplanet]

(For the kids)How do you feel being your parents’ child? What kind of person is your carrier/sire?

Skystrophe:

Oh, these questions are… unusual. (Look around anxiously) So am I allowed to say anything..? Will they watch this show…? Ok…

I wanna say that many bots say it’s lucky for me to have Optimus and Megatron as my parents… but the truth is, having them as parents really brings me a lot of pressure. It’s… not so easy to be the only child of two extraordinary people, and you know you’re not so extraordinary yourself. I mean, I am only “just ok” at many things they can easily do great. It’s just… I’m still trying to figure out.

My carrier is a very strong bot. By that, I mean he’s powerful, not only in battles and strategies, but in the will. I think there’s nothing in the world that can defeat him, or make him feel defeated. When he’s with us, he’s always happy, confident, full of energy. When sire feels unsure, he is there to boost his spirits. When I feel insecure, knowing that he is there for me, always makes me feel better.

My sire, on the other hand, is umm, stricter. I know he means well. He told me all about those stories of heroes and primes, and responsibility comes with strength. He’s a lovable bot, of course. And he’s gentle with me. It’s just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way he talks. He makes me feel… nervous.

Jinglestorm:

Being my parents’ child, it’s a lot of fun! They both like to play, so I’ve got plenty of time playing with them. We go racing on the plains, have a picnic in the woods, or play chess and other board games at home. Oh! And they love video games too! We also play video games.

And my sire, he’s a wonderful bot. He’s fun, energetic. He talks a lot, which is sometimes a little bit annoying. Hmm. But he’s actually the decision maker in our house, kind of? Him and my carrier take turns being the brain. But because of my carrier’s “unstable” issue, sire did play the brain most of the time, though he sometimes came up with bad ideas and I had to stop him from dragging us all in.

My carrier is— very well known among us kids. The cool triple changer, the only one alive by now.* He is also not very stable, and we know that. Besides that, my carrier went through a lot in past wars. Sometimes he’s still haunted by his past ghosts. But he doesn’t need to worry, because I am always there for him.

*It’s my headcanon and part of the plots of Heroic Nonsense, where Blitzwing’s triple changer form came from a secret experiment project carried out by autobots. The project failed because most of the subjects suffered serious complications— they developed split personality disorders and became overly aggressive and easier to get killed in the battlefield. Blitzwing is the only survivor.

Clobber:

Hmm, I don’t know. I guess I’m lucky to be my parents’ child. I’m happy and comfortable living with them. My parents knew each other for very long before I was born. They have a tacit understanding that made everything simple. We three are quite alike as well.

My carrier is the brain of our family. It’s easy to tell. Sire even calls her “General” as a loving nickname. And also, she’s really my role model. Her talents go beyond military strategies. She has wisdom and courage to deal with a lot of trivial stuff as well. As for my sire, he’s more of a kind-hearted, good tempered bot. He cooks really well and takes all the gardening work. By that I mean, work like making a fishpond in our backyard. More delicate job like planting is done by me. I heard that they were notorious decepticon war machines in the past. I always imagine how badass they can be! But I don’t have the luck to witness that. All I got are two big bots fond of their own hobbies and get along well with the neighbors.

Just for the reminder:

Skystrophe— Megatron and Optimus’s son, Megatron is the carrier

Jinglestorm— Blitzwing and Bumblebee’s daughter, Blitzwing is the carrier

Clobber— Strika and Lugnut’s daughter, Strika is the carrier

More worldbuilding see my fanfic Old World, New World