#this drawing is 2 years old but i still like it so you get to see it too

[girl-of-stupidology]

It’s my birthday! 🎉 Also happy 491 years since the legal declaration of death of Andreas Maler! Anno domini 1534!!! ALSO FINALLY made an official reference for my pathetic self insert OC that no one asked for!!!❤️ (but no srsly this is my first OC I actually took seriously to plan out so I’m happy that some yall like her💔) Here are some Diana funfacts on this special indulgent day! (cringe)

Diana is the second eldest child of many siblings in Florence! Her father is a physician? Merchant? and her mother is a noble woman? so they are somewhat well off financially (Still…a work in progress on that fact). Her favorite uncle is a sculptor and artist. Diana is kind of the odd one out of her family but she has a fond relationship with her younger brother, Jacobo.

Her father signed her off to marriage, one of the reasons is that she is considered “too old” to be living at home, while her younger sisters were able to find suitors much quicker than her. (“I hope she ends up with a cruel old man, that will discipline her for sure!” whispered one of her sisters, gleefully.)

Diana is prone to anger outbursts but these have somewhat subsided after being away from home. She can oddly throw a good punch, her brothers taught her to.

She is classist and finds it hard to empathize with others. This is much like Werner before Act 3.

Oh, Diana hated Tassing when she first arrived here. It took her a while to open up to most of the townsfolk. She’s good friends with Else? but still kept her distance. Distance especially from Lenhardt.

She can’t sew, she’s bad at baking, she tries to help Werner around the house and his job, but he’s fine handling it himself. She feels like she’s not as hardworking and resilient as the other townswomen (That's how she thinks though. Ofc it’s more complicated than that, it is their lifestyle after all. Diana does have the luxury of not working on a farm everyday).

No one in town knows why she avoids the St. John’s Eve bonfire every year. As the player, if you go to North town before joining everyone at the fire, you could see Diana sitting outside her house, drawing. If you strike a conversation with her, you get the choice to say hi to her and simply leave or allow her to continuously talk and reminisce about how her hometown would celebrate the same holiday. You get to even look on what she’s drawing, if you’re willing to. With that, she will open up to you more.

Andreas: Why are you not with Werner at the bonfire this evening? Diana: Oh. I have a terrible migraine today.

-If you failed the persuasion check for Werner at the inn in act 2, in act 3, Werner will be a drunkard and rude to Magdalene. Diana will be a shut-in and her depression is now her normal. They both don't fit in Tassing anymore.

[hairscare]

as someone who has used a cane for over 2 years now ive noticed a really interesting bias against canes by able bodied people in comparison to other mobility aids. when we were at the same college my roommate used forearm crutches and i had my cane, and it became a joke to us how much more helpful and accommodating people were towards him (of course still overall bad- but better). the main example we always talk about is that people would fall over themselves to help him with doors, even to the point that it would get inconvenient (like trying to open the door to the accessible bathroom for him but in the process standing in the bathroom), meanwhile people would let doors shut on me without batting an eye. he started using a cane recently so i asked him about if there was a difference in how people treated him and he said there was a noticable difference and that people were less eager to help him when he was using it in comparison to the crutches. i have a few theories as to why:

1. most canes you see in media being used by someone who isnt elderly are aesthetic canes, and so people dont take it as seriously if a younger person is using one

2. unlike a lot of mobility aids, canes are one handed, which gives the illusion of an extra hand free. what people dont understand is that yes, while i do have an extra hand free, i am using that hand double time since the other one is occupied. also a lot of things require two hands (especially for someone with a disability) so doing everything one handed can be tough. i use my dominant hand to hold my cane since my pain is worse on my left side, which means that the hand i do have free isnt one i can use to type things in or write, so if i need to do that i have to put my cane under my arm and use my right hand

3. canes are taken less seriously as mobility aids since to an able bodied person they dont look as severe, which gives the impression that cane users are more capable than other mobility aid users. while yes, it is true that canes can be a starter mobility aid that will eventually be traded for another type as symptoms progress, that doesnt mean that canes are for Disability Lite. me and my roommate used our mobility aids for similar reasons and have had very similar pain experiences, we just used different aids. canes are also a significantly cheaper option compared to other aids and are easier to find in stores, and so are much more accessible. besides all that though, there shouldnt even be a bar for how disabled a person needs to be to recieve help, which id argue is a very controversial opinion to have anymore

4. canes are still a joke. they are still widely used as a funny prop to indicate that someone is old, incapable and feeble. even on tumblr i still see people utilizing canes in this way in artwork and memes, and thats obviously very alienating. mobility canes arent props, and you probably should not draw someone with one unless you actually intend to have that character need it

in my short 2 years of using a cane i have already faced so much ableism, most of which has come from young left leaning people. of course theres a wider issue of disabled people being the odd group out in the effort to stop bigotry since literally everyone will punch down on us. there are also certainly privileges to using a cane compared to other mobility aids. but its also incredibly strange how invisible they are, like people forget that i have one for a reason

[sloop-goop]

Realized I never posted this. here it is finally seeing the light of day!

[thedrotter]

a once in a lifetime miracle: oc art!! this is Shiva.

doodles from a month or so, but i cant really draw properly right now. but i wanted to do something meanwhile so i colored these :33

[puppppppppy]

save me old flipnote studio MVs.......

[keeps-ache]

once again i am on the playlist lol

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[noctilu-uca]

Art i got admitted into a district art show for waooww

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[dexaroth]

i cant believe the day but i finally got a full tower pc. bought it already built and at a considerable discount of some 320 dollars off. its fucking huge and theres so many things going on inside... i was initially planning on choosing the parts myself but finding the graphics card was so hard and everyone else convinced me to just buy it built and honestly? good. id probably have fucked this up so badly by myself

i cant use it yet bc i took too long to buy the monitor that was also on sale and now its regular price -_- tho i managed to find a discount used one for now. well see how that goes since ill get it tomorrow. i tested it on out living room tv and it had some kaspersky thingy open and like thats so cute. i hope they left some treats in the browsing history for me to search through before i wipe it clean

[annihilatius]

I'm unironically getting interested in a 10 year old Minecraft roleplay series that hasn't been updated in 7 years and will never actually be finished because the two people that made it together got divorced and don't even record stuff at all anymore so there's barely any fandom anywhere and any fan content that exists is (the vast majority of the time) stuff from 8 years ago when it was still being made uploaded by inactive accounts I'm so fucking ashamed of myself

[pedgito]

↝ ALONE, IN MY MIND (14k words)

Summary: So what if Eddie Munson had a really pretty face, it was just too good not to admire. So what if you liked to draw him in your free time, he definitely didn’t mind. Yet somehow, tutoring him still felt like the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done.

↝ OUR LITTLE SECRET (1.7k words)

Summary: Tardies were becoming a regular occurrence and you couldn’t handle another day of boring detention, but Eddie couldn’t resist the chance to worship you in every way possible. Just be quick, no one had to know.

↝ RENTALS & RECORDS (11k words)

Summary: Eddie can’t hide the fact that he’s sort of obsessed with you, but you can’t deny that you might be secretly obsessed with him too.

↝ FORBIDDEN FRUIT (series — 1, 2, 3, 4)

Summary: You find yourself torn between the idea that even though Eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

↝ DON'T HANG UP (mini-series — 1, 2, 3)

Summary: Eddie’s got a late night bone to pick with you; only one minor sexual inconvenience in the way, but that doesn’t stop you from picking up his call and Eddie doesn’t want to hang up either.

↝ TAKE IT SLOW (3k words)

Summary: It wasn’t your fault your dealer liked to give you special treatment and kiss you in private, those were just the perks of being a very loyal customer, aside from the fact that he was probably falling in love with you.

↝ SCREAM MY NAME (15k words)

Summary: Summer of 96’, fresh off the anniversary of the tragedy that took place one year ago—you and your friend are ready to enjoy your last few days of freedom and fun, but someone has other plans in mind and everyone is fair game.

↝ FAKING IT (12k words)

Summary: Your career was built on luck and fortunate circumstances, but that was bound to run out at some point. Enter Eddie Munson, rockstar extraordinaire, the reason for your life being thrust into chaos—but, fake it til you make it, right?

↝ CAMERA SHY (mini series — 1, 2)

Summary: Eddie’s a popular camboy, along with your best friend Steve. one lucky introduction manages to turn your life upside down, arguably, for the better. 

↝ GET YOUR FIX (5k words)

Summary: Adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and Eddie was insatiable when it came to you.

↝ SIMPLE RULES (unfinished series – 1, 2)

Summary: Eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. Sll he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.

OLD MASTERLIST, INCLUDING REQUESTS (1 & 2)

NOTE: I've written like 80+ things for this dude and most of my posts have broken links so this is an attempt at fixing broken links on multiple series that I posted over two years ago, I'm too lazy to go through the process and figured this is easier lmao.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[pedroscowgirl]

Guilty as sin

Professor! Joel × fem college student!reader (series)

MASTERLIST /Part 2

Warnings: smut so minors dni!

flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is her 20s and joel in his late 40s), fingering, squirting, infidelity (joel is married) , no use of y/n, joel being an asshole towards the end, forbidden romance

Lmk if I forgot something!

wc: 3.2k

A/n: okay so i actually started writing this over a year ago and just finished it today cuz i finally had some inspiration. So if you notice a difference in the writing, don't mind it pls

Joel Miller is the epitome of rugged charm, the kind of man who effortlessly commands a room with his presence. To you, he's the sexiest man alive, an intoxicating blend of intellect and masculinity. Attending his classes became more than just an academic obligation, it was a guilty pleasure, an excuse to indulge in the sight of him. Joel was undeniably alluring,his maturity and confidence set him apart from your other professors. Yet, a glint of reality kept you grounded. The shiny glimmer of a wedding ring on his strong, veiny hand, was a constant reminder of boundaries you couldn't cross.

Your daydreams were interrupted when your friend pulled you back to reality. "Hey, it's break time. Stop ogling that old man and let's go to the bathroom," she teased with a knowing laugh. "He's not that old," you protested, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Please, he could be your father." You sighed, reluctantly tearing yourself away from thoughts of him.

As you walked toward the bathroom, fate had you crossing paths with Joel. His presence was magnetic, drawing your eyes to him. You couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have those capable, veiny hands on you, exploring the curves he seemed to discreetly notice. Yet, despite the heat in his gaze, he seemed the kind of man who wouldn't stray, loyal to a fault, and unlikely to be interested in someone so much younger.

Still, you couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on you as you passed, nor the surge of confidence it gave you. You knew you looked good in those jeans, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was thinking about you as much as you were about him.

---------‐-----------------------------------------------------

A week went by, and u had an appointment with another professor just before your class with joel miller. You had a busy day ahead because your friends wanted to go out after class. And since u didn't have time for changing clothes, you just wore your going outfit the whole day. You wore black thigh high boots with a jeans miniskirt and a sexy black cutout top. And on top of that you wore your long leather jacket to cover you up.

Your appointment with your professor went well and when u walked out, u decided to take the elevator since u were on the 5th floor and were wearing heels. You pushed the button on the elevator and to your suprise, you saw professor miller standing in it.

Your heart started to race like crazy. You greeted him with a smile and got into the elevator. "Good afternoon" he said and u were getting so hot. "Good afternoon, professor Miller." You answered and he smiled "you don't need to call me professor miller. Just call me joel." You laughed and said "that's a little strange but if u insist."

The elevator was now on the 3rd floor and you felt his gaze on you. Your jacket was open cuz you were in a hurry and u awkwardly smiled and said "I'm going somewhere after your class so I'm a little overdressed right now. I swear I'm not being inappropriate on purpose." He laughed and was a little taken by suprise by your random statement. "That's fine. I assume you're a grown woman since you're in college and there are no dress codes here. So no need to worry about it. And you look great." You blushed and got even hotter because you didn't think he would say that.

And suddenly the elevator stopped out of nowhere. You grabbed his arm when you almost fell and quickly took it back and apologised when u stood still again. "Don't be sorry. I guess we're stuck here now. But don't worry I'll call someone." The way he was so calm and easy going turned you on so much. You wished you could just take him right here and now. Cuz you needed him so badly.

"Are you a student of mine?" He asked after he was done calling for help. He knew you were a student of his but he didn't wanna sound like a creep and make you uncomfortable. He also just didn't want to stand in silence the whole time. "Oh uh yes I am" you smiled and he smiled aswell. "Do you like the course?" He asked. "Yes it's actually one of my favourites. I love going to your class. You explain everything so well." He smirked a little and said "I bet you say this to all your professors." And winked at you. The wetness in your pants grew bigger and your heart raced faster.

"Oh what's your name? It's so rude of me not to ask." He said and you laughed and said your name. "That's a beautiful name." "I bet you say that to all your students." You smiled. "I actually thought of naming my daughter that way" he spoke and now it's confirmed. He really is a dilf. Which made it so much more intimidating for you. A married man is one thing, but a married man with kids? Oh you had no chance. The dissapointment was spread over your face and joel furrowed his brows. "Are you okay?" You snapped out of your thoughts and smiled at him. "Oh yes I'm fine sorry. "What's her name" you asked politely. "Her same is Sarah." He smiled and you smiled aswell. "That's a cute name."

A silence filled the room and suddenly the elevator doors went open. "Oh finally" He said and you sighed. You're happy to not be stuck anymore but at the same time, you were dissapointed that your little moment with your professor ended. The elevator stopped halfway so you had to climb up to the floor to get out of there. The man on the other side told you to grab his hand but you struggled. You looked at joel with an akward smile and he said "I'll help you, don't worry."

You gasped when you felt his hands on your thighs. It sent a spark to your core and blood rushed to your cheeks. He was so strong which made him even hotter which you didn't even know was possible.

You both got out of the elevator and went to the class. He opened the door for you and you looked for your friend. When you finally saw her, you smiled. But her eyes were wide and she was staring at your outfit. You sat next to her and she asked where you were. "Oh I was stuck in the elevator with Mr Miller." You casually said and she giggled. "You were stuck? In the elevator? With your crush?" She said and you nodded and blushed again.

"Sorry I was late. I was stuck in the elavator" joel said into his mic and smiled at you. You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the lecture. You kept thinking about his thick fingers grabbing your thighs." It was the first time that you were not paying attention in his class. Well at least not on the subject.

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

Weeks had passed, and you found yourself lingering after class more often than necessary. At first, it was subtle,an extra question here, a slight delay in gathering your things there. But soon, it became deliberate. The way you stole glances at him from across the room, the way your fingers grazed his desk when you spoke to him, the way you shifted in your seat when he was lecturing.

And you noticed something else, too. He was looking.

He was careful,but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered down your legs when you crossed them, lingered a fraction too long when your blouse dipped just slightly. It made something burn in your lower stomach, knowing that your presence affected him.

So you got bolder. Wearing miniskirts, fitted tops, lingering touches. Each time, his restraint was evident, his jaw tight, his voice even. But then you noticed the big bulge in his pants and it made your mouth water.

And it was that thought that propelled you to his office that afternoon. Your heart pounded in your chest, though you wouldn’t dare let it show. You knocked lightly, already knowing he was inside.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled through the door.

You stepped in, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. He looked up from his desk, and for a brief moment, he seemed almost caught off guard. His gaze swept over you, your short skirt, the backless top revealing smooth skin, the lack of straps on your shoulders and most of all, your hardend nipples. You could've used some nipple covers to wear but gathered i'd be more fun this way.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Uh—hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sit down, please.”

You did as he asked, slowly crossing one leg over the other as you settled into the chair. His eyes darted downward before he forced them back up, and you bit back a smirk.

“I just had a few things I wanted to go over,” you started, keeping your tone light, innocent. As if you didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched on the desk, the way his shoulders tensed.

“Yeah?” he leaned back, but the movement felt more like a defense mechanism than anything else.

You nodded, tilting your head slightly. “Just some things about the last assignment.”

He exhaled sharply, nodding as he grabbed a pen—something to do with his hands, something to focus on that wasn’t you. “Alright. What’s confusing you?”

You leaned forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Well, I was thinking…”

And as you spoke, you could feel the tension tighten, coil, waiting for something—anything—to snap.

When the discussion about school finally came to an end, you stood from your seat, smoothing your skirt as you reached for the door handle. Joel stood as well, guiding you toward the exit, his presence towering behind you. Just as your fingers curled around the handle, his voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

The word was sharp, almost involuntary, and you turned your head slightly, catching the conflicted expression on his face. His jaw clenched, eyes dark, as if waging an internal war with himself. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck before finally exhaling a breath that seemed to carry every ounce of restraint he had left.

“I can’t—” he started, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t—”

But then he looked at you again, really looked at you, and something in him snapped.

Before you could respond, he reached for you, one hand wrapping around your waist as the other cradled your jaw. And then his lips were on yours—hot, urgent, desperate. The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, the heat of it searing into your skin as you melted into him.

You barely had a moment to react before he lifted you, guiding you onto his desk with ease. His hands splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he slotted himself between your legs, deepening the kiss with a hunger that had clearly been building for far too long.

The papers on his desk crumpled beneath you, forgotten, as his hands roamed and explored every inch of you.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

Joel’s voice was low, thick with restraint as he hovered over you, his rough hands brushing along the hem of your skirt. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dangerous. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess it—you just nodded.

“Yes, Professor.”

That title alone made his breath hitch. His fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, slowly pushing it up until he could see the lacy pink panties you’d worn just for him. A little bow sat at the waistband, an innocent contrast to the filthy thoughts running through his mind.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, ain’t that just the cutest thing.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you met his gaze with a slow, teasing smile. He dragged his calloused fingers up your inner thighs, watching your body react under his touch, watching the way your breath hitched as he finally pulled the thin fabric down your legs.

He licked his fingers and you stopped him. His brows furrowed as he looked up at you, confused.

“There’s no need for that, Professor,” you said, voice sultry and dripping with need. “I’ve been wet since the day I met you.”

Joel let out a low groan, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

His fingers lowered, trailing through your slick heat, feeling just how ready you were for him. The moment he pushed a finger inside, your body clenched around him, making him curse under his breath.

“Yeah, you’re right, sweetheart. You are very wet for me.” His voice was deep, wrecked with desire. “Such a naughty girl.”

A desperate whimper left your lips, your back arching as he curled his thick finger inside you. “Hmm, Professor… feels so good…”

Joel groaned, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you still. “Gosh, I love when you call me that.”

He pushed another finger in—this time, the one with his ring on it. The cool metal pressed against your warm, sensitive clit, making you shudder from the contrast in temperature. The thought of him touching you like this, fingers deep inside you while that simple wedding band glinted under the dim light, sent a rush of pleasure through you.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be spread out for your hot, married professor, letting him fuck you with his fingers on his desk, but God, it felt too damn good.

And the way he was looking at you—like he was absolutely wrecked, like he couldn’t get enough—made it impossible to stop.

His fingers moved faster, curling inside you, dragging against that sweet spot with perfect precision. The wet sounds filled the office, obscene and sinful, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made him work you even harder, his wrist flexing, his palm pressing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Your stomach twisted, pleasure winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could barely breathe, barely form a coherent thought, just a trembling mess beneath his skilled hands.

“P-p-professor, I-I’m gonna—”

Your body seized up as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your nails dug into his arm, desperate to ground yourself as your release gushed out, soaking his hand, his wrist, even splattering onto his shirt. Your vision blurred as you cried out, thighs shaking violently, every nerve in your body set ablaze.

Joel groaned, voice low and wrecked, watching with fascination as you came completely undone. “Holy shit.”

His fingers didn’t stop, not even as your body convulsed and twitched from overstimulation. If anything, it made him move slower, more deliberate, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until you were nothing more than a trembling, panting mess on his desk. He loved it. Loved seeing you fall apart beneath him from just his fingers.

By the time he finally pulled out, you gasped at the sudden emptiness, your walls fluttering around nothing. The loss of contact sent a shiver through you, and you collapsed against his desk, completely spent.

The only sound in the room was the heavy rise and fall of both your breaths. The air was thick, humid with sex.

A few seconds passed before you finally sat up, still trying to gather your senses. Your voice was weak, hoarse when you muttered, “Fuck… that was my first time—”

Joel’s body tensed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes wide with panic. “This was your first time??” His voice cracked, full of disbelief and something close to fear.

You blinked at him, then let out a breathless laugh. “Oh my God, no,” you said, still catching your breath. “I was gonna say… it’s the first time I’ve ever orgasmed.”

Joel’s tense shoulders immediately dropped, and he let out a deep, relieved chuckle. His head fell back for a moment as he ran a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you scared the hell outta me.”

You smirked, tilting your head at him, amused by his reaction. “Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack, Professor.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head before giving you a knowing look. “Guess those college boys ain’t doin’ it for ya, huh?”

Your cheeks burned, but you bit your lip and shook your head. “Not even close.”

Joel’s lips curled up into a cocky little smirk, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. You could see it,he wanted more. He wanted to push you down onto that desk, spread you open, and take you apart all over again.

Your hands moved without thinking, trailing down his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, until they reached the thick outline of his cock straining against his jeans. He was still painfully hard. You pressed your palm against him, feeling the heat of it through the denim, watching the way his jaw clenched, his body tensing beneath your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. But before you could undo it, his large, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Uhm… we shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, his voice suddenly hesitant.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

Joel sighed, rubbing his free hand over his scruffy jaw. His voice was quieter now, almost like he was reminding himself as much as he was telling you. “I’m married. And I’m your professor.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You sure as hell didn’t care when your ring was rubbin’ my clit.”

Joel flinched, his expression twisting into something conflicted. You could see it, the guilt creeping in, the weight of reality slamming back into him.

But it was too late for that.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of anger and disappointment bubbling inside you. Just minutes ago, he was inside you, whispering dirty little praises in that deep Texas drawl, making you feel things you never thought possible. And now he was pulling away, acting like he suddenly had morals?

“Fuckin’ coward,” you muttered under your breath.

You yanked your wrist from his grip and slid off the desk, legs still shaky. Your panties were somewhere on the floor, but you didn’t bother looking for them. Instead, you grabbed your skirt, tugging it back into place with shaky hands.

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there, stiff and silent, watching you with a guilty look in his eyes.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before turning toward the door. “Y’know what, Professor?” you said bitterly, glancing at him one last time. “I hope she doesn’t fuck you either.”

And with that, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he leaned back against his desk. His cock was still rock hard, his fingers still coated with your wetness, his shirt still stained with your release.

He should feel ashamed. He should feel regret.

But all he could think about was how badly he wanted to pull you back into his office and fuck you until you forgot your own damn name.

[moonstruckme]

hiiiiiiiii mae <3 i have an idea for thawing out series. what about if reader has a 'moment' w one of them and the other boy gets slightly cranky bc of it but then is also confused bc he doesn't know if he wants r or the other boy.........and then EPIPHANY 😈

Thanks for your request! The mood of it got altered some but I hope you like it :)

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some hurt w/o comfort but dw we'll fix it down the line

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.6k words

“Pads!” Remus shouts across the ice. “Focus!”

Sirius’ cheeks pinken slightly as he tears his stare away from the Russian soloist practicing her quads. You laugh and say something to him that makes him pinch your waist meanly, as if you’ve been acting any better. 

You and Sirius are completely starstruck. Remus wants to be irritated at your distractibility, but it’s sort of adorable. You nearly fall on your bum watching the Austrian team run drills, Sirius is too busy eye-flirting with a Swedish skater to remember he’s supposed to be going into a turn, and you both stop your routine entirely when the Canadian duo steps out onto the ice. 

You and Sirius draw plenty of stares yourselves, though naturally only Sirius appears to notice. He shoots a wink at a skater admiring him and a glare at another looking too closely at you, his hand possessively on your lower back anytime you’re not running your routine. 

Altogether it means you have to spend a couple of extra hours learning to work through this specific brand of stage fright and running your drills again after you all get your heads turned multiple times, but Remus lets it slide. He remembers being just as dazzled during his first Olympics, seventeen years old and feeling like he’d somehow snuck into the hall of fame, an imposter among legends. 

Part of him hopes that the embarrassment of having to do a half-ass death spiral in front of so many professionals will make Sirius finally go all the way, but no such luck. He keeps you firmly above where you ought to be, expression impassive even as Remus can see you pleading with him with your eyes. Still, the rest of the routine goes well, and Remus tries not to let it get under his skin. He hopes you’re right and Sirius really will pull through in the final hour; your faith in your partner is absolute, and Remus finds it easy to put his faith in you. 

He lets you loose to spend the afternoon as you’d like, but it comes as no surprise when he sees you both on the ice again. Remus knows you’ve likely got plenty of nerves to work off. It’s one thing to compete in your home country, another entirely to represent your home country while competing amongst the best figure skaters in the world. He calls you off the ice before one of you can overexert yourselves and pull something. Sirius swears up and down that his ankle hasn’t bothered him since the day after he hurt it, and Remus hasn’t seen anything to make him suspect differently, but he knows better than to take risks with a healing injury. You spend the rest of the afternoon playing cards and gambling for candies in Sirius’ room. 

Eventually you disperse to go to bed. Remus’ hip has been bothering him since the flight the previous day, so he goes on a walk to stretch it out. It’s odd, he thinks, how easy things have come to feel between the three of you. When he first arrived, Remus had every intention of setting up strict professional boundaries, of knowing you only as your coach and seeing you only during practice times. And then you started practicing together, and it seemed like his boundaries wouldn’t even be necessary. Sirius hated him, and besides that the two of you existed in a bubble no one could penetrate, intimate and trusting only each other. Now, after learning about what your former coach did to you, Remus understands why that was necessary. You were protecting each other, safeguarding your partnership and your careers. It would have made sense for you to keep Remus at more than an arm’s length, taking his coaching with grains of salt and keeping him well away from your private lives. 

But then there have been days like today. Still bickering with Sirius, still watching the two of you interact with a familiarity only years of history can grant, but feeling warm and welcome despite it all. It feels easy, to tease Sirius and let him snipe back. To let you lean your shoulder into his and not move away. It feels good. 

Remus’ hip is feeling fairly good too by the time he gets back, sore from the exercise but not so stiff. As he makes his way to his room, passing Sirius’ and then yours on the way, he sees light sneaking through the crack underneath your door. 

He frowns. It’s late, and you’re meant to practice again early tomorrow morning, your last day of practice before you compete. You should be well rested. As he approaches your door, he hears sound coming from inside. Low, crackling voices, and a song that tugs at the fringes of his memory. Then a sound he knows too well, the shushing of skates on ice.

Remus knocks. The door is thin enough that he hears your little gasp and a quiet snap, and when you say “come in,” it sounds like a question. 

He suppresses a smile, opening your door cautiously in case you didn’t really mean it. 

You’re sitting on your bed, one hand atop your shut laptop. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “It’s late.” 

“I know.” You look almost shy. Between that and the pajamas you have on, plaid little shorts and a bulky sweatshirt, Remus has the urge to pinch your chin between his fingers. “Sorry, I was just watching some, um…”

“Figure skating videos.” Your lips part, and he says, “I could hear them from outside.” 

“Oh.” You laugh. It’s a nice sound, one Remus can happily say he’s come to know well, but this one is woven through with nerves. “That’s embarrassing.” 

“Why is it embarrassing?” he asks honestly. “It’s normal to want to study your competition. And they’re fun, I still watch them all of the time.” 

“It’s not…” You give him a tentative look, then scoot over on your bed. “Do you want to see?” 

Remus can’t imagine you’re watching anything he hasn’t seen a million times, but he is curious which are your favorites. He’s careful to sit on top of your covers, a few inches between your leg and his. The bed doesn’t allow for anything more. 

“Fuck, did they really have to go back to making them out of cardboard?” 

That gets another nervous laugh out of you as you open your laptop screen, playing the video. And Remus knows then where he’s heard the music before. It’s his music. You’re watching his old routine, a niche one from a small competition back in Wales. Remus was fourteen when this was filmed. 

He glances at you, and you’re watching the video with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, the colors of the screen dancing across your eyes. 

“I’ve always admired how tight your form was,” you say. “You were so young, but it was obvious you were putting the work in.” 

“I practiced a lot,” Remus agrees. “Too much, really.” 

The nostalgia he feels for figure skating is bittersweet when he watches videos like this. He remembers spending all his time in the rink, every hour he wasn’t in school or at home, nothing spared for friends or hobbies. He did love it, but in loving it he forgot to build a life outside of it. Life was constant motion, training and competitions and awards whirling around him like the rink during a spin; by the time he had his accident anyone that might have been his friend had their own friends, and Remus realized he may have been lonely for years. 

“I’m really glad you agreed to coach us.” You’re still watching the video, young Remus doing a camel spin. “You’ve made us a lot better, both of us. I know Sirius is going to end up fixing the spiral, and I’m going to try my best, and…I really hope we can make you proud.” 

“You will,” Remus says, instead of you already do. It feels wrong to take any credit for how incredible you are, either one of you, but that is what he feels when he sees you out on the ice. Proud. He looks at you carefully. “You’ve seemed wound pretty tightly lately.” 

Your eyes drop, no longer looking at young Remus but not at the older one either. 

“It’s alright to be nervous,” he says gently, “so long as you know that you deserve to be here. You’re going to do great.” 

You rub your lips together. “Were you nervous during your Olympics? Is it okay for you to talk about?” 

“Yeah,” Remus says, a bit surprised, “it’s fine. I was nervous. I was…” he chuckles “I was freaking out, honestly. But when I got out there, it was really just like any rink. The music and the routine were the same, so I just let myself get lost in it. I almost forgot where I was until it was over, and people were waving flags at me and all that from the stands.” He feels his lips curve with the memory. Bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “It’s not so bad. Anyway, I think it’s got to be better to go through it with someone else. I was on my own, but you’ll have Sirius with you.” 

You give him a little sideways smile. “And you, right?” 

A fond warmth blooms in Remus’ chest. “And me.” 

“Has it been difficult for you to coach us?” you ask him tentatively. “I mean, to come back?” 

Remus takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says after a minute. “At first, it really was. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t think I really knew it at the time, but I was jealous of both of you. Anytime you did something differently than I would have, I got so frustrated that you were throwing away these opportunities I would kill to have again. It was easy to look at either one of you and wish I was in your place.” 

You’re nodding, not a trace of hurt or offense in your expression. You look at him like you understand. 

“But that stopped a long time ago,” he says. “After I worked with you for longer, it became clear you’re both very different skaters than I was.” You huff a laugh, and Remus nudges your shoulder admonishingly. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think early on I wasn’t a very good coach to you because I couldn’t see your individual strengths. But now I think I can, and it’s really a privilege to watch you skate together. It’s lovely. And I’ve loved getting to know you and Sirius, too. So, yeah, it was difficult at first, but I’m really glad I came on. And I’m glad you were patient enough to let me stay.” 

That got a bit more earnest than he intended. Remus feels heat rise to his face, but you’re still nodding, thoughtful, like you’re trying to wrap your head around it. He sees you rub your lips together again. 

“I really want to do well,” you say softly, “but I’m not the skater Sirius is. I don’t have his natural talent, and I don’t flourish under pressure the way he does. I—that’s usually when I mess up.” Remus’ chest aches at the vulnerability in your voice, his hand moving unconsciously to cover yours on the bed. Some of the tension goes out of you at the touch. “I’ve tried my whole life to keep up with him, but I’m never quite there, and you guys, you’ve both been these incredible, talented skaters…” Your eyes meet his, timid and ashamed. “I’m afraid I’m going to let you both down.” 

“Are you kidding?” You drop your gaze, and a surprised little laugh trips off Remus’ tongue as he ducks his head to follow, holding your hand more securely. “I’m sorry, that was rash, but really. How can you think that? You’re one of the most talented skaters I’ve ever seen.” 

You’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your chin in his hand, gentle, an encouragement more than anything, but you let him turn you towards him. 

“I don’t care how much of it comes from natural aptitude,” he says firmly. “You’re an incredible skater. Even when I didn’t know you at all, it was obvious that you care about this more than Sirius or I likely ever have. That’s important. You can see it in how hard you train, and in how you move on the ice.” Remus shakes his head, expelling a breath. “It’s mesmerizing. You’re beautiful to watch.” 

You’re not shying away from him now, but Remus doesn’t let go of you. Your expression is wide open, diffident but curious. He goes on.

“The way you skate, it’s not just about the motions or the art of it, it’s joyous. Anyone can see how happy you are out there. That’s what makes you so good. You really love it.” 

“You did, too,” you murmur. 

His voice softens in kind. “I did. But not the way you do.” 

Your eyes lower, but this time he allows you it. Remus is suddenly acutely aware of your leg where it's pressed up against his, of his own heartbeat. He’s still holding your hand. 

You wet your lips. “Do you really mean all that?” 

“Why would I give you a whole speech I didn’t believe?” 

You crack a smile. “Some coaches call it a pep talk.” 

“You’re beautiful to watch,” he says again, voice dropping to a murmur as he realizes you’re staring at his lips. He breathes in, and the distance between you lessens. “You’re beautiful.” 

Remus knows he’s judged you rightly when your hand comes around his waist, pressing into the softness of his jumper to glean an impression of the skin underneath. You kiss like you skate, with a sweet eagerness, ready to explore and wanting to learn. Your lips part, inspiring a similar parting in Remus, and you let out a breath with a soft humming sound. 

Remus' nerves are alight underneath your hand on his side. He angles his torso to get you closer, free hand coasting up your thigh. Your fingers bunch in his jumper, kisses picking up heat as he lets his hand settle at the small of your back, an echo of how Sirius touched you this morning when—

Sirius. 

Remus draws away from you so suddenly he hears you gasp. He still has your face in his hand, can feel the flustered warmth of it before he removes that too, putting distance between you. 

“Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. Guilt burns in the back of his throat. “Sorry, it’s not you. I just, I—”

Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. 

“I didn’t think that through.” He can feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Sirius is in love with you. Remus is only just starting to feel like a part of your team, but this could send you all back in time. Kissing one of his skaters, who the other is in love with? His stomach hurts. “I’m your coach, and you—we have a big competition coming up. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

He edges off your bed, looking at you while he does. Your lips are still parted, eyes wide. 

“It was a really shit idea,” he says, “and I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” 

You rub your lips together. Remus feels it like you’re still moving them against his own. “It’s fine,” you say on a breath. “We can forget it.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. 

“It’s okay.” You’re shaking your head, and he’s backing away, both of you like deer caught in headlights. “You’re right, it was silly. We’re professionals, we can get past it.” 

Remus feels himself nodding, feels the handle of your door in his hand. 

“Practice in the morning?” you ask weakly. 

He pushes out a breath as he opens the door. “Yeah. Six thirty.”

[obsesssedblerd]

please please please, I need a part 2 to your loving dad Toji/ Preschool teacher reader fic💖💖It’s so good😭

"Who's your new teacher?" (Pt. 2)

Synopsis: Toji gets the phone number of Megumi's preschool teacher that he's been crushing on. [Pt. 1 here]

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, toji being soft and a little shy, mentions of shiu, everyone is happy bc i said so

a/n: sorry that this took a while! also, barely proof-read. sorry for mistakes!

update: part 3 here

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

3:30pm, which means that it’s about time for the children to get picked up from preschool. Until they’re picked up by their parents, they run out any additional energy they have on the playground.

All except one. 

Instead of playing with the other kids, Megumi Fushiguro sits next to you at one of the tables of the playground with his dog plushie occupying the space beside him. He’s quiet, but relaxed and happy as he fills a page in the coloring book you bought for him and only for him. You notice him digging for a green crayon, and you hand one to him. His eyes light up as he accepts it from you. “Thank you,” he says softly. 

You smile at him. “Of course.” Your heart melts when the four year-old returns your smile, then goes back to coloring. Though you enjoyed all of your students, there was no doubt that Megumi was your favorite. According to some of the other teachers, Megumi barely spoke to anyone and always distanced himself. However, he loves being in your presence. He always lets you hold his hand when walking anywhere, or fix his hair,—you still wonder how it’s so spiky—and he talks to you the most. You enjoy his stories about his family, and his love for dogs.

“What are you drawing?” You ask when you notice that he’s drawing on a blank page instead of filling in the lines of the coloring book.

Megumi covers it and pouts slightly. “It’s a surprise. You can’t look until I’m done.” 

“Okay. No problem.” 

“Hi, Gumi! Hi, Ms. [Y/L/N}!” The familiar, happy voice fills your ears, and excitement swirls in your stomach. Tsumiki Fushiguro skips over to the table, putting her backpack down and gently hugging her little brother, careful not to disturb his coloring. Then, she wraps you in a hug, one that you happily receive. “Hello, sweetheart! How was school and soccer practice?” 

“It was fun! We’re going to have a game soon!” 

Your eyes scan the playground. If Tsumiki was here, then that meant that—

“Looking for me?” The low, smooth voice sends a small shiver down your spine.

There he is. 

You turn around and look up at a smirking Toji Fushiguro, who is without a doubt the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, muscular, dark hair with a scar on his lip, charming, and so gentle with his two kids. Behind him was his friend, Shiu Kong, who you had seen a couple of times. He would pick up Megumi if Toji was held up at work. 

“Yeah,” you answer as you release Tsumiki and stand up, mirroring his smile. “I was. How was work?” 

Though you enjoyed the activities of your job, this was your favorite part of the day. Nearly every afternoon for the last month and a half, you would spend some quiet time with Megumi during pick-up time, greet Tsumiki when Toji came, then spend at least twenty minutes talking with him while the kids played. A few of your coworkers picked up on how often you were smiling with him, and lightly teased you for having a crush. At first, you denied it, but when you caught yourself daydreaming about him for the umpteenth time while at work, doing chores at home, or before bed, you finally accepted it. 

“Work was fine,” he answers, then gestures to Megumi. “How’d he do today?” 

“He’s perfect, as always.” 

“Done!” Megumi springs up, then stands in-between you and Toji, raising his arms above his head to show you two the picture he was drawing. 

Toji smiles down at his son. “Aw, that’s sweet, Megs. What is it?” 

You look down to see four happy, smiling figures on the paper, and even though you can tell what they are, you still let Megumi explain them. “This one’s me,” he says as he points to the smaller figure with dark hair and t-shirt with a dog on it. Next is the taller girl beside him. “This is Tsumiki!” He tilts the paper towards his sister, who ‘awws’ in response. Then he smiles up at you as he points to the woman. “This is you, and then right here is Papa.” In the drawing, you’re wearing a brightly colored dress and standing next to Toji.

Toji peers down at what Megumi drew, and asks, “Hey, how come my cheeks are pink?” 

Megumi raises a brow, looking up at him in confusion. “Your cheeks are always pink when you’re around Ms. [Y/L/N],” he says matter-of-factly. 

Toji’s eyes widen, and Shiu turns around, doing his best to stifle his laugh. “That’s not— No, they’re not-” As Toji fumbles around his words, you catch it—the faint dust of pink on his cheeks, almost missed due to the sunlight on his face. 

You don’t point out the small detail that you’re also blushing in Megumi’s drawing. 

Toji’s phone buzzes, and he fishes it out to silence the notification. “Crap. We gotta get going. Megumi has a doctor’s appointment.” 

At that, Megumi whines and clutches your hand. “I don’t wanna go, papa.” 

Your heart squeezes at the utter fear in his eyes, and Toji kneels in front of him. “Megs, I promise, there’s no shots this time. It’s just a little check-up to make sure that you’re healthy.” 

You also kneel down, and the small boy wraps his arms around you. “Don’t wanna go,” he repeats, and he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, “it was scary last time.” 

“Aw, it’s okay, Gumi.” You rub a comforting hand up and down his back, then through his hair. “Your dad wouldn’t lie to you, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I understand how you’re feeling, though. Doctors can be pretty scary. How about this? Be brave during your check-up, and I’ll have a nice gift for you tomorrow.” 

Megumi looks up at you, and excitement replaces the fear that was in his eyes before. “A gift? What is it?” 

“You’ll have to see. It’s a surprise,” you say, and you watch as he takes a big breath to calm himself. “Okay.” He hugs you once more, and you see a relieved Toji mouth the words, ‘Thank you’ to you. 

As you help Megumi gather his things, you see Toji whispering to Tsumiki, who looks like she can barely contain her excitement. Once she’s ready, she bounces over to you. “Ms. [Y/L/N]?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“Papa wants to ask for your phone number,” then she lowers her voice to a not-so-quiet-whisper. “But he’s too shy. Also, can you come to my soccer game pretty, pretty pleaseeeee?!” 

Toji lets out a loud, mortified gasp. “Tsumiki, you were supposed to mention the soccer game and then the phone number— oh, my god.” He buries his face in his hand, and this time, Shiu Kong can’t hold back his laugh. 

You also laugh, then pat the top of her head. “I’ll come to your game, Tsumiki. I can’t wait to see you play!” 

“Yay!” She cheers, completely ignoring the fact that her father’s about to die of embarrassment. 

You approach Toji, who bashfully rubs the back of his head. “That completely backfired. I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to, I completely understand-” 

“No, I would love to. Yes to Tsumiki’s game, and yes to giving you my phone number.” 

He hands you his phone, watching you as you put in your number and texting yourself so you had his. You hand it back, then he effortlessly scoops up Megumi. “I’ll text you the details later.” 

“Perfect. See you soon.” 

Toji’s eyes soften, and he uses his free hand to push a strand of your hair out of your face. Your heart pounds fast in your chest, and your cheeks heat. “See you soon, doll,” he says.

You nearly stop breathing at the new nickname. As you wave them all goodbye, you let out a slow, blissful sigh. You got his number. Soon, you’ll be going to Tsumiki’s game, then maybe on a date with him, then—

You snap yourself out of it. Don’t think too far ahead. Focus on now. You can freak out about everything else later. 

Right now, you have to get a present for Megumi when he’s done with his doctor’s appointment.

------

tags: @sad-darksoul @binnieonabike @byul9158 @sugurubabe @namjooningera @xxkay15xx @eternallyvenus @chosoyukisgf

sorry if I missed anyone! went based off the replies in part one <3