#teaching au

[moonselune]

Adore you | Part Five

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Teacher!Minthara x Obsessed!Student AU

NSFW | MDNI | Modern AU

Part five to these parts: part one , part two, part three, part four

CW: SMUT SMUT SMUT, minthara making it up to you, Orin gets her own content warning,

⋆.˚✰ Minthara ⋆.˚✰ <- Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara's apology had been so heartfelt, so raw, that you couldn't help but want to do something special for her. She had laid herself bare, and now it was your turn to show her just how much she meant to you. As the evening approached, you sifted through your wardrobe, finally settling on a daring lilac dress that clung to your curves in all the right places. The color, Minthara's favorite, would be sure to get her attention.

When the clock struck seven, you were ready, your hair and makeup perfectly done, and your confidence at an all-time high. You heard a knock at your door and felt a flutter of anticipation. You opened it to find Minthara standing there, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that accentuated her strong frame. But it was the look in her eyes that made your breath catch—a mixture of awe, desire, and something deeper.

"You look… breathtaking," she managed, her voice husky with emotion.

"Thank you," you replied with a coy smile, enjoying the way her eyes roved over you. "Shall we go?"

The car ride to the restaurant was charged with electricity. Minthara's hand found yours, her thumb gently caressing your skin. She kept stealing glances at you, as if she couldn't believe her luck. When you arrived at the restaurant, she was the perfect gentlewoman, helping you out of the car and guiding you inside with a hand at the small of your back.

Dinner was a sensory experience. The food was exquisite, but it was Minthara's attention that you relished most. Her gaze never left you, her eyes filled with unspoken words. Under the table, her hand found your knee, squeezing gently, her touch sending shivers up your spine. You responded in kind, your own hand brushing against her thigh, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

"You're driving me crazy," Minthara whispered at one point, her eyes dark with desire.

"Good," you replied with a wicked smile, your voice low and sultry.

By the time dessert arrived, the tension between you was almost unbearable. Minthara paid the bill quickly, her hand once again finding the small of your back as she led you out of the restaurant. The moment you were in the car, she pulled you into a searing kiss, her hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched your own.

"Please," she murmured against your lips, her voice a desperate plea. "Let me take you back to mine."

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting hers. "You really want me that badly?" you teased, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

"Yes," she breathed, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "I need you, Y/N. Please."

You smiled, savoring the power you held in that moment. "Beg for it," you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear.

"Y/N, please," she repeated, her voice trembling with need. "I want you so much. I need to show you how much I love you. Please, come back with me."

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the way she looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration. Finally, you leaned in, kissing her deeply before whispering, "Take me home, Minthara."

The drive to her place was a blur of heated kisses at stoplights and wandering hands. As soon as you arrived, she practically dragged you inside, her lips never leaving yours. The door barely closed behind you before she pressed you against it, her body flush against yours as she kissed you with a fervor that made your knees weak.

She practically devoured you, needily gripping your hips and biting your bottom lip. She needed you, needed to be with you, be one with you. You couldn't help but melt under her touch. She is what you wanted, she is what you desired, needed.

You gripped the back of Minthara's hair and pulled her close to you as she continued to bully her tongue down your throat. Her hand quickly snaked under your dress and toyed with your panties, a finger dipping in and out of them. She was waiting, waiting for your approval. You couldn't help but smile and you pushed her away.

She groaned and rested her head against your chest, whining slightly. She just wanred to feel you. "Come on, love, cryso,"

"I don't know, I was pretty upset.." You chuckled, Minthara caught your lips in a hot, passionate kiss, her desperation clear.

"Please, let me make it up to you," she whispered between kisses, her hands trembling slightly as they held you.

You decided to give in, leaning back against the door and pulling her closer.

"Alright, Minthara," you murmured. "Show me how much you care."

With a relieved sigh, Minthara guided you - although practically dragged you to the bedroom, her hands never leaving your body. She undressed you with a reverence that made your heart race, her lips worshipping every inch of exposed skin. She took her time, catering to your every need, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and passion that left you breathless. Her hands traced the curves of your body, and she kissed her way up your thighs, her breath hot against your skin. She reached your hips, her fingers gripping you with a possessive need, and looked up at you again.

"Sit on my face," she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, Y/N, let me worship you."

The raw need in her voice made your pulse quicken and you submitted to her demand instantly - it may have sounded like a plea but you knew better. You positioned yourself above her, feeling her hands guiding you as you lowered yourself onto her waiting mouth. The first touch of her tongue against your most sensitive spot sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but moan.

Minthara's tongue worked skillfully, her hands gripping your hips firmly as she devoured you with a fervor that left you gasping for breath. She alternated between slow, languid strokes and quick, flicking motions, her eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. You felt a wave of intense pleasure building, her name escaping your lips in breathless whispers.

She didn't stop, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tensing, your breath coming in ragged gasps, and just when you thought you couldn't take any more, she sucked gently, pushing you over the edge.

A powerful orgasm ripped through you, your body shuddering with the intensity of it. Minthara held you steady, her tongue continuing to lap at you gently, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally collapsed beside her, breathless and sated, she pulled you into her arms, holding you close. Though she wasn't done with you yet.

She wasn't done with you; her need to show you how much she cared was insatiable.

Minthara began to kiss along your jawline, her lips soft but insistent. She moved slowly, savoring every moment, her breath hot against your skin. You shivered, feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal starting to build again.

She shifted, straddling your thigh, her body pressing against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the evidence of her own arousal slick against your skin. Her hands moved with purpose, caressing your sides, her fingers dancing across your ribs, sending shivers through your body.

Her lips traveled lower, placing bruising kisses along your neck, each one more intense than the last. She bit down gently, sucking on the tender skin, marking you as hers. You gasped, the sensation a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. She moved to your shoulders, leaving a trail of hickeys that would serve as reminders of this night.

Minthara's mouth found your breasts, her tongue flicking over your nipples, making you arch your back in response. She sucked on each one in turn, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as she began to grind against your thigh, her movements slow and deliberate.

You could feel her wetness against your skin, the rhythm of her grinding becoming more urgent. She kissed her way down your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She paused at your hips, her teeth grazing your skin, and then she moved back up, her mouth finding your breasts again, sucking and biting with renewed fervor.

Minthara's moans grew louder, her movements more frantic as she rode your thigh. The friction against your own arousal was maddening, each grind sending waves of pleasure through you. Her fingers dug into your hips, her nails leaving marks as she lost herself in the sensation.

"Y/N," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. "I need you. I need this."

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, encouraging her to move faster. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, each thrust and grind bringing you both closer to the edge. Her lips found yours in a searing kiss, her tongue demanding entrance, her need evident in every touch.

The pleasure built to a crescendo, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the impending release just out of reach. Minthara's movements became erratic, her moans turning into cries of ecstasy as she ground against you with increasing desperation.

Finally, the wave of pleasure crashed over you both, your bodies trembling with the intensity of your orgasms. Minthara's cries of release mixed with your own, the room filled with the sounds of your shared passion. She collapsed against you, her body slick with sweat, her breathing ragged.

You held her close, your hands gently stroking her back as you both came down from the high. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and satisfaction.

"You're incredible," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the intensity of her pleasure.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "So are you, my love. So are you."

Minthara leaned upwards and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, you held her close, not wanting to let go of her, deepening the kiss. You needed her, wanted to become one with her. She was yours and you were hers. Eventually Minthara pulled away, the two of you panting, swollen lips just touching each other.

The night continued in a blur of intense passion. After your shared climax, Minthara's desire seemed insatiable. She kissed and caressed you relentlessly, drawing you into another round of heated lovemaking. Her hands and lips explored every inch of your body, her touch a mix of tenderness and raw need that left you breathless and aching with pleasure. You lost count of how many times she brought you to the edge and beyond, her stamina seemingly endless as she worshipped your body with a devotion that made your heart swell.

As the hours passed, the room filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, each moan and cry echoing off the walls. By the time you finally succumbed to exhaustion, the night had given way to the first light of dawn, the soft glow filtering through the curtains and casting a warm, golden hue over the room.

You woke up feeling achy, every muscle in your body pleasantly sore from the night's activities. You stretched lazily, feeling the stiffness in your limbs, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. The bed beside you was empty, but you could hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Curious, you slipped out of bed, wrapping a sheet around your naked form as you made your way to the bathroom. You found Minthara standing by the bathtub, her back to you as she tested the water with her hand. The sight of her, so serene and beautiful, made your heart skip a beat.

"Good morning," you murmured, your voice still husky with sleep.

Minthara turned to you, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Good morning, love," she replied, her eyes softening as they took in the sight of you. "I thought we could both use a relaxing bath after last night."

You couldn't help but chuckle, the memories of the night flooding back. "I think you're right," you said, stepping forward to kiss her gently. "A bath sounds perfect."

She helped you into the tub, the warm water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. Minthara slipped in behind you, pulling you back against her chest, her arms wrapping around you as you both settled into the soothing heat. You sighed in contentment, the tension in your muscles slowly melting away.

For a while, you simply lay there in silence, enjoying the feel of her body against yours, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. The steam from the water rose around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. It was a lazy, blissful morning, and you reveled in the peace of the moment.

"Last night was incredible," Minthara murmured after a while, her lips brushing against your ear. "I never want to forget a single moment of it."

You smiled, tilting your head back to look at her. "Me neither," you replied softly. "It was… perfect."

She kissed your forehead, her lips lingering there as she held you tightly. "I promise I'll always make it up to you...I care about you deeply."

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. It wasn't the three little words you had been daydreaming about ever since you had set eyes on Minthara but they would do. "I care deeply for you too, Minthara."

"I never want to lose you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want to be better for you. Will you… will you be... oh my gods this sounds so foolish, but will you be my girlfriend?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You leaned in, and giggled, like a giddy school girl, "Yes, Minthara. I'll be your girlfriend. But I would have appreciated it if you passed me a note in class and let me tick a box.."

"Oh shut up you," Minthara laughed splasing water at you, though her eyes lit up with joy, and she turned you around pulled you into a tight embrace, her lips finding yours in a kiss filled with adoration and promise.

Eventually, the water began to cool, and you both reluctantly decided it was time to get out. Minthara helped you dry off, her hands gentle and caring as she wrapped you in a fluffy towel. You returned to the bedroom, where you dressed in her overshirt and climbed back into bed, snuggling close under the covers. Minthara had lightly rolled her eyes at the sight of you, muttering how she was going to get no work done today but she nevertheless joined you

As you lay there, Minthara's arms around you, a thought driftend into your mind.

"Minthara," you began, your voice soft and sweet. "You know I've missed a few classes because of everything that's been going on. Maybe you could… help me out a bit with the credits I need?"

Minthara raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Oh? And how do you propose I help you with that?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

You traced a finger along her collarbone, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Well, I could put in some extra work, Dr Baenre… if you know what I mean."

Minthara chuckled, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous," she said, her tone affectionate. She leaned down and kissed your forehead, her fingers gently stroking your hair. "I have faith in your skills and abilities, Y/N. I know you can catch up on your own."

You pouted, hoping to persuade her, but the resolve in her eyes was clear.

"But Minthara," you whined softly, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. She laughed, a genuine, warm sound that filled the room.

"No pouting," she said, brushing her thumb across your bottom lip. "You're more than capable of handling your coursework. And besides, you wouldn't want me to play favorites, would you?"

You sighed, knowing she was right. "Fine," you conceded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But you have to admit, it was worth a try."

Minthara pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively. "It was," she agreed, her voice softening. "And I appreciate your creativity. But I believe in you, Y/N. You can do this."

You nodded, feeling a sense of pride at her confidence in you. "Okay. Fine. I'll catch up."

Minthara pressed a tender kiss to your forehead as you sighed but as you lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of finalised peace. With Minthara by your side once again you felt complete, happy. And that's not just because you had entier folder on her ex and a way to make her... move on.. if needed. No, not at all, it was all about the trust you had established between each other.

A few days later, you find yourself navigating the bustling corridors of the university, the air thick with the scent of academia and the sounds of students chatting, laughing, and rushing to their next classes. You had settled back into your routine, the memories of that passionate night with Minthara still fresh in your mind, a secret smile often tugging at your lips.

As you rounded a corner, lost in thought, a firm hand suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you into an empty classroom. You stumbled slightly, catching your balance as the door slammed shut behind you. Dr. Orin Dered stood before you, her eyes cold and calculating.

"Dr. Dered?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "What is this about?"

Orin’s lips curled into a tight smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I think you know exactly what this is about, Y/N," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Your little affair with Dr Baenre, or considering we are all on such intimate terms, Minthara."

You blinked, feigning ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Orin stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb with me, little girl. I know everything. And I'm here to tell you to break things off with her. Now. Minthara deserves someone of her standing, not a horny university student looking to get her blood pumping."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you crossed your arms, trying to project confidence. "And why, exactly, would I do that?"

"Because," Orin replied, her voice low and threatening, "if you don't, I'll go straight to Professor Dekarios about it. Do you really think he'll allow such an illicit relationship to continue under his nose? You're a disgrace, Y/N. I'm sure he had such high hopes for you as a promising student, but now look at you—caught up in this… this scandal."

Her words stung, but you refused to let her see how much they affected you.

"I really don’t know what you’re talking about," you said, but your heart was pounding, and you knew Orin wouldn’t back down easily.

Orin sneered, stepping even closer. "You think you can play innocent? You're a naughty student, Y/N. Throwing away your future for some fling."

Something inside you snapped, was it the not-yet-healed wounds associated with that word or was because of the sheer audacity of Orin to encroach on something you cultivated and coveted so dearly? You didn't know. What you did know was that Orin wouldn't relent, and if she went to Professor Dekarios, it could create all amounts of trouble for both you and Minthara. But you were no fool, no starry-eyed worshiper who had hots for teacher -or at least you weren't entirely that. You were something much darker that Orin had clearly not recognised.

"Do you think you’re in any position to lecture me about morality?" you said, your voice icy, your expression twisting from one of doe-eyed shock to gleeful venom. "What about your illegal experiments, Orin? The ones that resulted in the deaths of three test subjects? I'm sure the board would love to hear all about that."

Orin's face went pale, her eyes widening in shock. She took a step back, her bravado faltering. "How… how do you know about that?" she stammered. You stepped forward, your confidence growing as you saw the fear in her eyes.

"Oh I know a lot of things, Orin. Kids these days and their internet!" You laughed before dropping it and immediately going back to glaring at her with an unnerving calmness. "Oh Orin, I know things that could ruin you if they came to light. I won't even go into your missing older sibling, and the family fortune." Orin visibly flinched, like prey trapped under the predator's claw. "So if you keep trying to interfere with my relationship with Minthara, I will make sure everyone knows just how far you've gone to further your career."

Orin's bravado crumbled, and she took another step back, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Try me," you replied, your voice low and firm. "If you want to see just how much of a 'naughty student' I can be, keep pushing. If I lose Minthara, get expelled, I lose it all. And I will not hesitate to drag you down with me. But if you value your career and your freedom, you'll stay out of my business."

Orin stared at you for a long moment, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. Finally, she seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she muttered. "But this isn’t over."

She turned and hurried out of the classroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You took a deep breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. You knew Orin wouldn't give up easily, but for now, you had the upper hand.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

In this blog we hate Orin <3

Hope you all enjoyed this, gods was it cathartic writing that Orin bit. And missing older sibling? Durge where you at babe your little sis is acting cringe af.

Let me know what you think down below ! - Seluney xox

[moonrise0111]

Scenario: After the war, Draco realized he wanted to learn more about the muggle world, a place that was kept from him throughout his life because it was seen as lesser.

But when Draco actually experiences the muggle world, he finds that muggles have learned and discovered more than he could ever imagine.

He decides he wants to open schools for younger witches and wizards (under 11) and older (17+) so younger kids will have a solid grip on basic math, science, history, and language, before they get a magical education and older will be able to understand the muggle world with more specificity. Because how is wizarding society going to push forward out of purist ideals and actually integrate into the rest of the world without understanding it first?

Harry naturally thinks Malfoy is up to something. Shenanigans ensue.

Fanfic writers: do your thing

(if you actually write something from this please tell me)

[kbirbpods]

[drum roll] It's here! I have posted the first two chapters of my @clonebang 2023 podfic. I worked with the incredible @ahsokastechie as a team on this project! Much much much appreciation to our third team member, @honeykiwis, who beta'ed the fic as well.

The fic is rated Mature and the written work can be found here.

It features the relationship between Tech/Phee, with background Crosshair/Mayday, and a lot about the Bad Batch crew as a family.

It's a High School Teachers AU!

Summary:

Tech has just been assigned a collaboration partner for Pabu High’s Steam Literacy and Understanding Taskforce - another item piled on his plate by an incompetent administration. His partner? Phee Genoa, an unknown variable who challenges him to see the world differently.

High School Teachers AU with Demisexual Tech. Written & recorded for Clone Bang 2023.

I hope you enjoy the podfic and the fic itself, of course. So far, @ahsokastechie also has 2 chapters up and is posting every other day until all 11 chapters are posted! Within the official posting period for the bang, I will be posting just a small portion of the fic! I do intend to come back to it to record it all, but with other events/scheduling, I could only do 4 art pieces for this work (cover art + 1 hour of audio). The next chapter of the fic will be up tomorrow (January 16th) & the next chapter of the podfic will be up the following day (January 17th).

See below the cut for the other cover art pieces I created but ultimately decided not to use! Just as a little treat:

[rupturedhaven]

“...Do you believe in anything?”

“Myself.”

Inej smiled. “Well there’s a surprise.”

“And you.”

Chapter 11 of Ketterdam Elementary is up! A wedding! Aching hearts! Yearning! Enjoy "I Do".

[crumplstiltskin]

🏖️

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[junotter]

Part 2 of my modern avatar au, The Gaang (part 1)

[izze-art]

med school may be difficult but at least katara has a philosophy ta to rant about the healthcare system to (bonus part is that he’s madly in love with her)

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could I ask you for more Freelancer Danny? I love his denseness (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Damian knew about Danny Fenton due to the multiple assassination attempts his mother had ordered on him. And how everyone had failed over the years as the man thawed whatever she sent out to kill him.

At first, Mother wanted to recruit Fenton, but he refused to join the great cause. He claimed he did not believe in their methods and would not serve a man like his Grandfather.

She later discovered that Fenton was the target of Father's affection and the main block between them, rekindling any romantic bond. Mother claimed she did not hate Fenton for this, as his parents wanted different things and views, but Damian did.

Damian could not stand a man who would think himself a better choice than Mother. He could not stomach the thought of Fenton being so powerful he could dismiss his family's organization as simply as rejecting a misbehaving dog.

How dare Fenton keep Mother away from his Father. Every day, Damian trained as hard as he could so that he could one day be able to best mother in combat and have the right to meet Father.

Then, he would work to defeat his Father so that he could demand Fenton's head on a platter. He had a long way to go, but Mother still attempted to kill the undeserving man while he grew more assertive.

Mother's assassination attempts began around the time Fenton had uncovered one of their youth training camps and set it ablaze. He had a problem training children to their limits, which made no sense to Damian. How else would those urchins become useful if they were not pushed past their limits?

Yes, a few of them died, but if they could not handle the training, there was no chance they could handle the actual missions. Fenton thought it was "cruel" and took all the children to an American orphanage that Father funded and ran.

Grandfather had been angry—angry more than Damian had ever seen in his young life. That training camp had been one of the first he had established; it had much history. Mother had assured him that she would make the attacker pay.

"Beloved will understand." She said, signing off on Fenton's death warrant. "He knows our ways."

That was that.

Until the people carrying Fenton's death warrant returned…in body bags with a note that read "Nice try" and a stylized white D underneath as a calling card, attached to each one.

That was four years ago. Damian is ten, has bested Mother, and is coming to meet Father. He had studied the fools Father had taken into the family.

He planned on taking out Drake first, for not only was he unworthy to be called Father's son, but even Grandfather had an eye on him. He needed to be handled before he grew to power.

Fenton turned out to be rather insightful. Damian had been in the Wayne Manor—quant that it was. He thought his Father was supposed to be wealthy, but he had been forbidden from being seen in public.

Then, he would take out Fenton.

It angered him to be treated as a secret. Again.

Before, he knew it was because Father was waiting for him to earn the right, as he needed to complete his training. He did.

He worked so hard to be the best. His mother and the man she spent years telling him was slightly less than his Grandfather refused to acknowledge him.

He disliked him.

Father's adoptive children treated Damian like a burden. Worst, Father treated him like an unstable bomb that was thrown on his lap like a common curd. Damian thought that he would have finally proved himself if he had just taken out Drake.

But the little insect turned out to be rather hard to kill off. Not to mention Todd, who had interfered more than once in his plans. Apparently, despite the fact that it was Fenton who had brought Drake to his Father—and not because Drake had any real skill—Todd thought the boy was an invaluable member of the team.

He did not think Drake was a danger to his position, which meant Todd was far too arrogant, and he did not have the skills to defend this mindset.

If anything, Fenton seemed delighted to listen to his stories of Mother and his homeland.

If Damian could not beat Drake, what hope would he have for Todd?

Fenton, on the other hand, treated Damian with respect. He considered his position and never made Damian feel wrong for his upbringing.

Damian, at first, had been free with his words. He was purposely throwing in comments of blades, screams, and blood. Fenton, in turn, told him the tales of growing up with his parents producing weaponry in the basement and the number of times he had to dodge a blast from something lying about in the house.

When Damian informed him of his training, Fenton applauded his abilities instead of pitying him for living through it.

Fenton then took him to a zoo. Damian had always been fond of animals, a weakness he attempted to hide. He could not exactly contain his urge to walk around the whole place, rolling his eyes when Fenton made a mistake on facts regarding the beats and spending an entire afternoon correcting him.

Fenton had not once dismissed or babied him. Unlike his servants, who are forced to listen to him, he seems genuinely happy to hear Damian speak. Strangely, Fenton even took Damian's training seriously, helping him sharpen his spy abilities by helping him go undercover in various settings.

Father had wanted him behind closed doors, but Fenton took him bowling, around the city, to the soup kitchen, multiple animal shelters to venture, and even to see various art museums. Whenever he asks Damian to explain his hostility to Drake, he reminds him that he would not be allowed to harm Drake.

"You just have to remind yourself that you're not there anymore," Fenton said over a Tabbouleh. Fenton had tracked down one of the few Arabic restaurants in Gotham because Damian mentioned how he missed his county's food.

He pointed out multiple reasons, but unlike when his Father, Grayson, Todd or even Pennyworth did, Fenton reframed from using emotions. He understood that where Damian was from, the weak deserved to be crushed to move up.

It warmed his chest in a way he only associated with his Mother when Fenton drove them there. "A good warrior adapts to his new settings and social customs. You aren't a mercenary."

Damian's nose wrinkled. "Those are the harlots of the world of warriors."

Fenton waved his fork at him. "They'll kill anyone for a dollar. They're far too easy to open their blades. Like their legs."

Damian ducked his head to hide the giggle that slipped out. They returned to the Wayne Manor to find Drake packing a bag. He returned to grab more clothing since he was still staying with Fenton. It was for his safety as Damian posed a real threat to his life.

For a moment, the blood son wondered if he could sneak up on him and slash his throat before Drake knew he was there, but then he thought about what Fenton said and chose to walk up to the teenager. "I shall allow you to live."

Drake froze. "Thank you?"

He nods, placing his arms behind his back. "I can still defeat you in combat. You breathe at my mercy."

Saying his piece, Damian glances over his shoulder, watching Fenton beam. The warm feeling returns as the man seems proud of him for not taking the chance to replace Drake.

Behind him, Father also smiles as if pleased. It's the first time he has ever looked at Damian that way. It was due to Fenton's advice and gentle guidance.

Fenton wasn't so bad after all.

He would refrain from plating his head for now, until he had enough information and experience to blend in with the American crowd and earn his Father's approval.

[cod-dump]

*the Price family at the park*

Price: What a lovely day… too lovely. Simon!

Teen!Ghost: *standing by the pond, slowly turning to look at Price*

Price: What are you doing?

Teen!Ghost: Enjoying nature like a good, respectable child?

Price: Put the ducklings back

Teen!Ghost, pulling out two ducklings from his hoodie pocket: THEIR MOTHER DOESN’T CARE ABOUT THEM-

Price: PUT THEM BACK

Teen!Gaz: *quickly walks to the car with a cat stuffed in his jacket*

Price: KYLE-

[moonselune]

Having a little spiral over Teacher!Minthara x Obsessed!Student...

Part Two , Best intending fools (part 3)

With Minthara being a university lecturer on Toxicology and she is the whole reason why you enrolled at Blackstaff.

Modern AU, Suggestive, implied stalking (from reader!), slightly dark content, obsession.

Note: Cryso is drow for a rose ;)

⋆.˚✰ Minthara ⋆.˚✰ <- Masterlist

Minthara x f!reader

Here's a little snippet:

You were excellent in class, always scored highly in your tests and were never any trouble. If Dr Baenre hadn't handed your paper back to you, you would have thought she wouldn't even know your name.

That was always your favourite part of class, the fleeting moments where all of Dr Baenre's attention was on you. The way your fingers brushed against each other as you took the paper from her. The brief upward smile she gave you when she congratulated you on your perfect score, again. Then the moment would be over and she would move on to her next victim who almost never faced the same treatment.

You always gave her a meek nod of your head and a murmured thanks as you left her room. You don't think she ever heard you, it seemed her favourite part of the class was when her students left.

You always wondered why she taught, forced community service perhaps? You had heard rumours that she had been suspended from the Faerun Board of Toxicology for testing her concoctions on fellow members. You would be more than a willing subject.

You spent most of your free time during the academic day lingering in the garden that was boxed in by the lecturers' offices. It was fairly overgrown which made it the perfect spot to hideaway. It was quite easily to discern whose office belonged to who. Professor Dekarios always had his window open, fanning out some sort of failed experiment, his cat Tara, often hissing at him in admonishment.

Dr Lorroakan's office glinted with all the shiny junk he collected. You abhorred Dr Lorroakan, favouring his assistant Rolan much more. Considering Rolan taught all his classes, set all of the tests and were the only person you could talk to if you were struggling with the work, it made more sense to you to just give Rolan the job.

Then there was Miss Alfira, the sound of her lute could be heard even from the garden. You liked Miss Alfira's class, though you did take it because it was the easiest class to pass. A few sincere words behind why you wrote your sonnet, a fake tear here and there and Miss Alfira was overjoyed with your work. The easy class allowed you more time to work on Dr Baenre's assignments.

Then there was the apple of your eye, the diamond among rhinestones. Dr Baenre's office often had the curtains pulled, to block out the sun. It affected her work and overall bothered her. So you often spent your time imagining what was going on behind the curtains. What experiments she was conducting, what critiques slipped from her mouth when she was marking student's papers. You would imagine what she said about your work, if words of praise ever slipped from her lips. Thinking about it made a warm feeling tighten within you and you found yourself absentmindedly squeezing your thighs together.

Then Dr Lorroakan would be yelling at Rolan for something, Miss Alfira would hit the wrong note and Professor Dekarios would fling his window open, with purple smoke billowing from it. And the feeling would be gone.

On days where the sun was hidden among the clouds, you practically sprinted to your spot in the garden, the crumbling stone bench covered in ivy waiting for you. It was a good day when the sun was finally gone, the best even, because that's when Dr Baenre drew open her curtains.

How you had to restrain yourself from pressing your face against the glass, to stare into the wonders of her office. You wanted to know what she was working on, what toxins she was playing with. What colour the walls were. Did she have any personal artefacts? Any hints of a previous life. You wanted to know where she kept her terrarium of venomous spiders that she always threatened to set on hungover students.

"Then you will know the meaning of piercing pain tearing through your head."

You had never built up the confidence to go to Dr Baenre's office, there were hours available for students but you figured that was just something she had to say to students because of the rules. You didn't know of any student that had been to her office either, none of them had enough of a death wish.

The weather today was miserable, dark clouds threatened to spill bouts of rain, there was a distant rumbling indicating a nearby storm, there was no wind but a definite chill in the air. It was the perfect day for you.

You cursed yourself for not pushing through the mass of students quicker, you almost missed Dr Baenre opening her curtains, the subtle grin on her face as she took in the weather. If you weren't panting from the sudden sprint you did to get here, then you were now.

There was no pantsuit, no shirt, just a tight black tank top. Her hair was not in its usual bun, but rather cascading down her shoulders. You couldn't tell from here what she was wearing on her lower half but you hoped it was as tight as her tank top. Dirty, filthy thoughts flooded your mind and the warm feeling came back. You found yourself leaning forward, drinking in her presence.

What had happened? Were these her spare clothes? Had she spilt something on her? Had Professor Dekarios? If so Professor Dekarios was soon becoming your second favourite lecturer.

Not fully aware of your surroundings you continued to lean forward till you lost your footing. You jerked trying to regain balance but your panic had caused you to be too forceful and you slipped backwards instead, crashing into the shrubbery. Dr Baenre snapped her head towards the commotion, towards you. You swore and stilled, praying to every god out there that she couldn't see you. You stayed there a few more minutes for good measure before clambering out of it. To your dismay, her curtains were drawn close, your noise had spooked her.

It was your favourite time of class, you were all getting your midterms back. As other students were sweating in fear, you could hardly contain your excitement. Dr Baenre was in her normal wear, dark purple pantsuit, crisp white shirt, stilettos clicking ominously around the room. You pretended to be intrigued in the piece of paper in front of you, a diagram showing the compounds of the venom you were studying today. You were sure you could draw it with your eyes closed. Finally, Dr Baenre approached your desk, you looked at her, a small awkward smile on her lips as you reached out for the paper.

But something was different this time.

Her eyes didn't contain the usual quiet admiration, her dark painted lips were set in a narrow line and she regarded you with an air of - chagrin?

You took the paper from her, your awkward smile turning into a pout at the absence of her fleeting touch and looked at the paper in front of you.

A disappointing analysis. See me after class.

No, that wasn't right. You flicked anxiously through the pages trying to see if this was all some horrible mistake, that this was someone else's paper, but it wasn't. This was your assignment and she had called it disappointing. Your work was disappointing, she was disappointed in you.

You spent the rest of the class, going over each line of your assignment, searching desperately for where you had gone wrong. For the first time ever, you were not listening to Dr Baenre, you zoned out completely, fixated on where you went wrong. If you were more aware then you would have noticed Dr Baenre relishing in your displeasure.

You were lucky enough not to get called on in class, so you simply continued spiralling. Reading what you had written over and over again. Your analysis was strong, your words distinctive, points clear and correct. You could not understand where you had gone wrong.

Soon class ended and as the other students shuffled out of the room, you picked up your books and held them close to your chest, one hand out holding your treacherous paper. You walked towards the front of the room, stopping just before her desk. Putting enough distance between yourself and your teacher.

Dr Baenre was rubbing the chalk off of her blackboard as you approached her, it may have been your eyes deceiving you but you swore she was smiling. You didn't have time to ponder it as she quickly turned around, and you bit lip to stop the gasp that threatened to escape you.

"Y-You wanted to see me, Dr Baenre?" You stuttered out, and Dr Baenre nodded and walked in front of her desk, she took the paper from your hands and leaned back on her desk. She regarded it with a faint look of disdain.

"Do you agree with what I said about your work?" Dr Baenre asked as she crossed her arms, tilting her head at you. You feel her eyes look you up and down and you suddenly became overly self-conscious about what you decided to wear today. It was nothing out of the ordinary, a simple check skirt and a black turtleneck. Your skirt was perhaps a bit short, but that was not out of choice just coincidence.

"Excuse me?" You replied in slight shock, although this was the longest conversation you had had with your teacher, and she was notoriously abrasive, it was still a surprise to you.

"Do not make me repeat myself again, of you agree with what I said about your work?" Dr Baenre continued, it felt like her eyes were penetrating your very soul. You couldn't help but fluster under her intense gaze.

"I-uh, you uh said it was a disappointing analysis, and I thought that it was a rather strong analysis." You told her, eyes cast to the ground. Dr Baenre was wearing black stilettos today.

"Why?" Dr Baenre persisted and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

"Why I thought it was a strong analysis-" You caught yourself before she did and regained yourself. "Oh I uh think it was strong because I was very clear about.."

As you pointed out your analysis you melted into an unknown confidence, this was your passion, your infatuation, the work you did was correct. There was no error or room for criticism. You continued to talk with your voice getting unwittingly louder, until Dr Baenre put held her index finger up to silence her. You choked down the words, keen not to disobey her.

"How fascinating, so you can peak more than three words." Dr Baenre smiled and you felt the air leave your lungs. She was smiling. At you. That pleasurable warm feeling returned, taking root between your legs. "Your analysis was strong, in fact it was quite brilliant, I just wanted to see if there was more to you. Clearly there is."

"Oh, I uh, thank you. I'm quite a fan of you-" You complimented before realising what you had said a blushed a bright red, "-I mean of your work, not that you aren't great, I mean you are more than great-"

Her index finger this time pressed against your lips and you thought you might just combust. Her heartbeat increased and your eyes fluttered from her finger to her eyes. She was touching you, voluntarily, not by accident, this wasn't just a fleeting moment, she was touching you.

"Now you're talking you truly cannot stop." Dr Baenre laughed, removing her finger and raising a brow at you. You struggle to string together a coherent sentence which seemed to amuse the teacher. "And now you cannot speak, what has got you so flustered, Cryso?"

"I um, I don't know what you mean." You mumbled fiddling with your hands, Dr Baenre gave you a knowing look but didn't push the matter further. Suddenly she pushed herself upwards and walked behind her desk, her cool demeanour returning.

"Keep up the good work, (L/N)." Dr Baenre said as she dismissed you, you nodded your head and thanked her, but as you were about to step out she called out to you once more. You turned to look at her, the warm feeling between your legs intensifying. "A word of advice, for you work, be more bold."

Be more bold.

Those three rang around your head for the rest of the day, and when you couldn't sleep, it was because those words were on the forefront of your mind. She was on the forefront of your mind.

Your work was not boring, you knew that, maybe you could change up your writing style, bring in some more risky sources-

Oh.

Oh.

What Dr Baenre really meant hit in the face like a tonne of bricks. She was not talking about your work. She was talking about you. She wanted you to be more bold. You began to realise that perhaps she had seen you that day, in the garden. You touched your lips, trying to recreate the sensation of her touch. When she thought back to it, her actions had crossed that teacher/student boundary. You have been academically smart, but by the gods were you starting to realise how dumb you were.

Bold. You could be bold.

When you walked into class a few days later, you were sure you had achieved bold. You wore a low cut tank top that was definitely a size too small for you. You wore a loose open cardigan over it, causing it to frame your chest perfectly. Your hair was down, not in its usual low ponytail. Your short skirt remained, only this time it dangerously high on your legs, and instead of your normal sneakers you had opted for some heeled knee high boots.

You could feel her stare on you when you walked in, in fact you could feel all of your classmates stare on you as you made your way to your usual seat. You were quite the wallflower, so this blooming was pleasurable for all. This will work for you.

As Dr Baenre began the lecture you made sure to wait until she was looking your way to shrug off a shoulder of your cardigan, exposing your clavicle. And Dr Baenre stumbled on her words, it was the first time she had ever done that.

Over the next few days, class remained similar to this day. You came up with more ways to tease your teacher. Going as far and as cliche to dropping your pen on your way out of class, bending to pick it up so Dr Baenre had the best view of your ass as you did so.

Still you were not asked to stay after class, in fact you were sure you were being ignored. You were never called upon, never questioned. This would not do. Which is why you did something you rarely did.

As Dr Baenre rounded off the lesson, she leant against her desk and clasped her hands together to obligatorily ask the class if any of them had any questions. All were usually too scared to raise their hand, but you no longer felt such trepidation.

"Dr Baenre?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly, not in a way that indicated fear but a way that showed confused naivety. Dr Baenre's head snapped towards you and she struggled to not let her amusement show. You felt your classmates stare at you in awe, how bold of you.

"Yes, (L/N)" Dr Baenre said, her tone dry and not giving anything away.

"Is it possible to deconstruct the compound of the venom from Phoneutria nigriventer for recreational pleasure, or does its varying effects across the sexes make it too precarious?" You asked, you had rehearsed the question about a thousand times before it left your lips but it was worth it to see Dr Baenre's face contort in slight surprise.

"..Interesting question. It would likely take rigorous rounds of testing but it could be possible." Dr Baenre had picked up on the game you were playing and she was playing to win. "Of course finding willing participants would be an issue due to the chance of mortality."

"But if the participants were unafraid? Knew that reward far outweighed the risk?" You continued, you could feel your classmates tense around you, nobody had talked back to teacher.

"Then it sounds like a decent proposal." Dr Baenre finalised, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards. If your classmates weren't scared before they were now. Luckily for them, Dr Baenre dismissed the class, unluckily for you, she was the first to leave the room. You were hoping for an invitation to discuss the issue further but evidently not. It was okay though, you still had one last thing up your sleeve.

You had never written a paper so poorly. It physically hurt to write it and when you handed it in you had to remind yourself that this was for the bigger picture. Your perfect grades could handle one little slip.

You were practically giddy when Dr Baenre walked your way, the offending paper in her hand. Although her demeanour was cold, you with your discerning eye you could see the playfulness in hers. She handed you the paper, fingers touching briefly. It sent shivers down your spine. You looked at your paper with bated breath.

Appalling work. See me in my office after class, extra lessons are clearly in order.

You tried to look sad, devastated even, but it was impossible. How could you feel that way when all of your dreams had just come true. When class ended you noted that Dr Baenre had left first, although this would have previously disheartened you, this time you were enthralled. You tried your best not to run to the office complex, it was weird being in the building and not just observing it. When you stood outside Dr Baenre's office you readjusted your top, tousled your hair and applied a layer of lip gloss to your lips. You knocked on the door and heard her voice beckon you in. Taking a deep breath in you opened the door and stepped into her web.

Upon entering you are enveloped in a rich ambiance of deep purples and blacks, with subtle accents of silver or darkened brass. The walls are adorned with numerous framed academic achievements, you could tell which paper earned her what award in a heartbeat.

Large bookshelves lined one side of the room, filled to the brim with leather-bound tomes on toxicology, pharmacology, and related subjects. The scent of aged parchment and ink mingles with a faint hint of something exotic, perhaps a rare botanical specimen or a vial of potent venom kept under lock and key you supposed.

In one corner of the office, was the aforementioned terrarium sat in all its glory, from the naked eye you could count at least three Phoneutria Nigriventers, what a delightful coincidence. Their intricate webs catch the light filtering in through the shaded windows, casting delicate patterns across the room. An elegant desk occupies the opposing corner, strewn with papers, research notes, all you would kill to just have a look at. Sat at desk was Dr Baenre, her hands clasped and a certain look of amusement on her face.

"Dr Baenre I can only-" You began to apologise, a hand on your bare collarbone. The top you wore today was a deep scoop and left little to the imagination, your bra straps peeking out.

"-Sit." Dr Baenre told you, and you immediately obeyed. Crossing one leg over the other, allowing your skirt to hike up. Dr Baenre stood up and walked towards you, one hand trailing behind her. She perched on the edge of her desk and you felt excitement build within you though you tried not to let it show. "I must admit I was disappointed by your most recent submission."

"I can only apologise, Dr Baenre-'

"-Minthara, you can call me Minthara." Minthara corrected you, you knew it was her first name but the sound of it coming from her own lips was thrilling.

"Minthara," You tested the word on your tongue and liked the way it felt. Minthara smiled as you spoke, "I can only apologise for the drop in my work, I guess I have just been stressed lately."

"Stressed? Whatever for?" Minthara asked with false sympathy, she knew fully well what was happening here.

"I think pent up is perhaps the better term for it." You told her, batting your eyelashes as you looked up at her with big eyes. You leaned forward in your chair, allowing her a better view of your cleavage. You could feel her eyes on you as you rose from your seat. She was taller than you, but not by a lot. "Do you think you could help me, Dr Baenre?"

You bit your lip and tilted your head, Minthara rolled her head back as she let out a breathless laugh. Your heart was pounding in your chest and then you did something you were sure was right. When she lowered her head back to meet your gaze you pushed yourself forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. A fire burning within you that overpowered all of your rationale. You were beginning to panic when Minthara stilled but that panic washed away when she grabbed your waist and turned you round, pinning you to the desk. You squeaked causing her to chuckle against your mouth. She nipped at your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth allowing her entrance.

What do you guys think? Lmk! :)))

[randomoranges]

alas, no one got me my favourite pastry from the coffee shop across from school :(

teacher au

Little Things

 Get to class. Set up. Put four pencils, four erasers, four pens, and one pencil sharpener in six bowls. Check the drying rack and empty it out. Straighten up the desks. Open the laptop. Sign in. Plug in the USB key. Open the correct PowerPoint. Take out the other necessary materials. Get the first group of the day. Take attendance. Ask the kids at least ten times not to touch anything and listen. Explain the new part of the project.

 Copy

 Paste

 Repeat.

 Survive until lunch.

 Try not to think of the fact that his lunch break is twenty minutes shorter today.

 Set up for the afternoon.

 Remain sane.

 Étienne sighs as the clock ticks off another minute. There are still over thirty-five minutes to class and it is obviously too soon to have the kids start picking up. Regardless, he is already done with this class and this day and he desperately wants to go home, crawl under his nest of blankets, and disconnect from the outside world for the next long while.

 It has been a day – it has been a day, a week, a month – and really, when has it not?

 He is bone tired and disenchanted with much of everything. There is a deep ache in his body that sometimes feels as though it will threaten to swallow him whole. He feels as though he is being pulled in a multitude of various directions when all he wants to do is stop for a moment and simply exist with no pressing urgencies or matters to attend. A moment to breathe and catch his breath. A moment where he could simply be.

 Yet, that is never how things work out for him.

 It feels as though he is never home these days and the housework keeps on piling up. There is laundry to tend to, accounts to balance, recycling to take out and it never seems to want to end. It doesn’t help that he is constantly running to and from places at the end of his work day and that by the time he gets home, it is even later and he is even more tired.

 He will do it tomorrow, but then the following day is much of the same, and before he even realises it, another week has gone by and there are even more things to do.

 Étienne sighs again and looks back at the current group of students going about their business, working – or at least he hopes so – not that he cares anymore – on their project. They are a little louder than he would like them to be, but he can’t find it in him to attempt to quiet them down. It wouldn’t work anyways. They don’t listen. None of them do. (That is a lie – some groups are better than others. Right now, it doesn’t feel like it.)

 He is about to take another walk around the classroom to make sure the kids are on task, maybe even cut a few pieces of cardboard to size for an upcoming project for his third graders, even though he doesn’t really feel like it, when there is a knock on the door.

 He grumbles as he walked to the door, annoyed that someone is interrupting his class and annoyed that he has to keep it locked since his sixth graders sometimes like to test the door and poke their heads in while he is conducting class if he doesn’t lock the door.

 Étienne stops himself from yanking the door open with an irritated scowl, and instead, opens it as calmly as he can. He is surprised to find one of his fifth grade students, considering he doesn’t have class with them today.

 The student hands him a small box, saying it is from M Édouard.

 Intrigued, Étienne takes the box from the student’s hands, thanks them, and closes the door, before he makes it back to his desk.

 The students barely notice as Étienne opens the box to find a note tucked on one side, a decoy box of markers, and a bag from the coffee shop across the street from the school.

 Something sweet to help with the afternoon

x

 Étienne smiles softly and opens the bag to find his favourite pastry from the shop.

 He snaps a quick photo with his phone, before sending a message to Edward, making sure he is discreet.

 “How is it you always know how to cheer me up? I got your delivery. <3”

 He does not expect a response to come in so quick, even though he knows Edward has a free period at the moment. But he is also aware of the pile of tests and assignments Edward has to grade and look over.

 “I’m glad it got to you in one piece. It’s not much, but I figured you’d like it.”

 “I do! Thanks <3 Can’t wait for this day to be over and go home.”

 “Soon. I’ll let you get back to class. See you later :)”

 “Later xx”

 It isn’t much, but as Étienne takes a first bite out of the pastry, he thinks of Edward going to the coffee shop to get this for him. If anything, it parts some of the clouds from his day.

 FIN

[googoogojob]

secretly watching a cute neighbor across

[shepscapades]

At long last… the story of how Mumbo Deviates! I realize this is the most anticlimactic response i could've given to the crazy number of asks I’ve gotten wondering how Mumbo deviates and asking how angsty or heartbreaking or dramatic it is… but hear me out okay. The idea that mumbo is just doing Normal, Day-To-Day android stuff and some random mob just. spooks him so bad that he deviates on the spot and never tells a soul is not only Hilarious but it also feels Really in character DLFGKJFGJ

(And so, i stick to my guns about mumbo being spared from angst. silly goofy guy who i love so so much =w=)

[wcspriter]

A lot of AUs have already come up with the idea of the Toby Fox-verse crossing over with itself, specifically for Frisk and Kris to meet. Of the crossovers, the one that sticks out the most definitely goes to @akanemnon's Twin Runes series. Above having a very unique art style, it balances out everything a Toby Fox game would; humor, characterization, lore, setting, and right now (as of this post) it's not afraid to explore certain upcoming character arcs.

Craziest thing above all is that Twin Runes is only just a side project! The real project is coming shortly after this series concludes, promising to be even bigger! If this is a taste of that main project, then we're in for a world of feels down the line.

[blueberryflavoredfeelings]

does the bbc even understand how much money they’d make if the made a Disney Enchanted 2007 style Merlin sequel where Merlin has been alive, moving from place to place, magicking himself young and aging then moving and magicking himself younger and aging then moving and suddenly Arthur pops out of a lake, completely unaware of current events and is walking around demanding his manservant, claiming to be King Arthur Pendragon and he either

a. Gets on the news somehow and Merlin, doing whatever he’s doing now, sees and drops everything because WHAT IS ARTHUR DOING HERE AND ALIVE

b. Meets Merlin who has been working as a detective somewhere -because that’s basically what he did anyway-solving things and helping people, the family business, and Arthur is dragged in, handcuffed, and plopped in an interrogation room or the drunk tank with the cop who found him saying like This wacko thinks he’s some medieval king, go deal with him, and Merlin scoffs and walks in, promptly dropping his files and spilling his coffee when he sees a disheveled and petulant Arthur, who goes Merlin, finally, get me out of here already, will you and Merlin starts crying lmaooo

or c. Meets Merlin who has been working at an ER because, again, he was physician adjacent, and someone drags a wet Arthur in, like Found this, it looks like he might hypothermiate deal with him, and Merlin sees him, drops his files, spills his coffee, and starts crying hahaha

because I’m thinking that’d be fun and probably everyone on tumblr and everyone who knows someone on tumblr would go bonkers over it