#absolute bullshit from my teachers

[yardsards]

on one hand it's probably for the best that there were no jokes about rainer's disability but on the other hand, rainer absolutely strikes me as a fellow member of the "uses our visible disability for lame puns and prop comedy" gang

[anothermonikan]

Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore

[euthymiya]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[makingshortstorieslong]

.

[chuluoyi]

✎ the babysitters' club

- gojo satoru x reader

in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff

note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"

On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.

"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"

"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.

No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.

Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.

"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"

. . . a momentary silence before—

"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"

"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"

"Complete bullshit—"

"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"

"Seriously...?"

"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.

"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.

“What! Why?!”

“That's not fair!”

“Sigh.”

“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."

"Nonsen—"

"Quiet, Megumi!"

And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.

“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”

“Fwa...”

“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”

“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”

“WAAA!”

“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”

And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.

"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."

"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"

"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."

And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.

"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.

For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.

“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”

"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—

"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"

On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.

"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."

When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.

Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?

"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.

The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:

Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!

"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.

The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.

Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!

Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"

"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.

"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."

And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.

Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...

"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"

Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"

"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"

Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"

At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.

Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"

"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"

The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.

It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.

And under less-than-watchful eyes...

"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"

"Ooh, you're right!"

The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.

"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"

"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"

Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.

"Wait... where's the baby?"

"—! Oh my god!"

And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"

"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"

You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.

"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"

You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.

"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."

Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"

"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"

Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.

"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"

"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.

"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."

And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.

Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.

"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.

"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"

Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."

And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.

"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"

But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.

"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—

"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"

Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"

"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"

"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"

You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.

"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.

"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"

The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...

You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."

“Huh?!”

“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”

Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"

Epilogue

"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.

You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.

Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"

"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."

Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.

"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"

"Hmm...?"

"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."

[elainemorisi]

definitely a large helping of I dunno, coping, probably. but jesus christ, in some ways the steep slide into blatantly obvious evil, ruinous, cruelty-as-point shit of the past several years is starting to convince me that some version of a milquetoast utopian future is possible, actually, in a way I have never believed before. because actually like, yeah, a fuckton of current problems would diminish significantly if We As A Society prioritized different things, in a pretty top down, structure of bureaucracy and government and systems, independent of personal virtue or revolutionary enlightenment, way

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh. 

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it. 

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?” 

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips. 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members. 

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail. 

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases. 

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices. 

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud. 

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more. 

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side. 

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter. 

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food. 

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous. 

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back. 

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

--

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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Thanks for all the love!

[discodeerdiary]

There's a good reason why I try not to argue publicly with anyone under 18, and it's not that I think they're inherently stupid, it's not that I think their brains are "underdeveloped", it's not that I think they can "do no wrong", it's that I never know how much freedom they actually have to think freely, or how many of their opinions are actually their own. Of course, under-18s *can be* capable of thinking for themselves and developing their own opinions, but (here in the US at least) law and culture put a lot of roadblocks on their ability to do so.

Of course parents and teachers cannot actually control the inner thoughts of the children they wield power over, but they can restrict the information that they have access to, can punish them for saying the wrong things, can cut them off from healthy diverse social groups, and can convince the child their thoughts are being monitored through religion, psychology, and other appeals to higher authority.

Thus if a random teenager says some headass shit in my mentions I have no way of knowing if these are opinions they arrived at on their own, or if they are dogmas forced on them by the people holding food and shelter over their head. If it's the latter, there's nothing to be gained from a public confrontation: people are generally unwilling to change their opinions in a direction that threatens their social support system, and they are especially unwilling to do so at the behest of an internet stranger who cannot offer alternative forms of support. If a teen is genuinely curious about my opinion (that is *if they consent* to a discussion of disagreements) and if I have the mental bandwidth for a potentially emotionally loaded conversation, yeah I'll have it, but I'm not gonna maintain any illusions about my ability to change their mind until they can find a way to live independently.

This is also why my leniency toward the not-yet-adult tends to also extend to the recently-adult. Coming up with a system of beliefs that you're actually willing to stand behind? Shit takes time, and I'm not necessarily gonna expect it of a 20-year-old who may, for all I know, have been living under conditions of near-absolute control up until their 18th birthday. Sure they may be opening their mind in college, or college may be their parents way of keeping them too occupied with busywork to develop new opinions, as they continue to hold financial support over their head. It's around their mid-twenties that I'm willing to go full gloves-off antagonistic with strangers, knowing that they've had a few years of legal and social adulthood under their belt, and that even if they're still financially dependent on their parents it's a different sort of dependence, one where they're given default legal permission to run away from home.

A lot of people are deeply uncomfortable with this line of thinking because if you look too far into the factors that influence young people's thoughts, you eventually have to start asking yourself which forces of dependency are influencing your own beliefs and opinions. Yeah, as an independent adult you may have the option to quit your job, divorce your spouse, ditch your friends, move to another country, but realistically how many of these can you accomplish at the same time? How many do you even want to? And how are all of these forces *in aggregate* setting the acceptable limits of what you're allowed to think and feel? It can be upsetting to think of yourself this way, it can be easier to think of yourself as a true free thinker and children as mindless automatons, but I urge you to think of mentally coercive environments as a continuum rather than a binary. The point is not to free yourself from all influence, but to gain the ability to see yourself as an influenced mind, and to have compassion for those dealing with all the bullshit you don't have to anymore.

[janeyseymour]

Never In a Million Years... Unless...- pt. 1

back on my bullshit and here with this for you

summary: Melissa feels a certain way about everything. And you? You're just happy to be there.

WC: ~1.8k

Melissa Schemmenti never wanted to be a mother. From the time she was little, she knew that she never wanted to have her own children. After having to take care of most of her siblings after her parents’ devastating divorce and stepping into a more maternal role at the ripe age of ten, the redhead knew what it took. She never wanted to be in that position again. Cooking, cleaning, running to the bus stop to make sure siblings got to school on time before attempting to get herself an education in a rightly manner was more than enough mothering than Melissa knew she ever wanted to have to do.

And she stood by that as she grew older. In fact, that single fact alone ruined quite a few relationships in the woman’s past.

“I don’t want children,” she would tell her partners. They would either try to sway her into changing her mind, or they would outright tell her that the relationship wouldn’t work out. Melissa found that she almost liked when they would just end it right there instead of trying to drag out something that would never work because of her stubborn position on the matter. The only person who didn’t push the idea of children on the woman was Joe- and she ended up married to him. Of course, she divorced him later on, but that’s besides the point.

All that being said though, Melissa Schemmenti knew that children were destined to be in her life one way or another- which led her to teaching. And teaching filled that hole in her heart of not having her own children. Some days, she almost wished she had her own children, specifically after her school children did something absolutely precious. But then there were the days where her school children were absolute menaces, and she was beyond grateful that she didn’t have to go home to her own little monsters (and she knows how Schemmenti children can be).

She led her life that way for oh so long, brushing off questions of when she was going to settle down again and finally have the children that others so desperately wanted her to have.

And then you came along- not that that changed her outlook on getting remarried and having children. But having you come into her life… it was nice. It was different. Melissa genuinely liked having you around, something that she couldn’t say about most of the people she worked with.

It had started because you were a new teacher at Abbott- a new kindergarten teacher to help take the load off of Barbara Howard. Quite frankly, the two veteran teachers weren’t thrilled with your appearance, but once they realized that you truly did have what it took to stay at the elementary school, they welcomed you with open arms- at least somewhat open arms.

And then one day, it changed. The redhead knew how perfect you were with your students, how you helped her best friend with the challenges that came with teaching at an underfunded and, at times, poorly run school, how your heart was in the right place… and that were absolutely stunning to look at. But when she was able to actual witness the magic that you seem to hold, she couldn’t stop herself from asking you out any longer. 

Everything that she stood for was laid out on the table right away, and you respected that. Hell, you leaned into it and promised her that the feelings she had about every matter on the table were valid. 

Your relationship with the sometimes brash and irascible second grade teacher was one of, if not the, healthiest relationships you had ever fostered. She had boundaries, you had your own boundaries, and neither of you crossed those lines. And if you did? The night was spent talking it out in a mature and calm manner, often times leading to making it up to each other in sweet and honest ways.

At this point, the two of you have been dating for a few years, and things still couldn’t be any better.

After a slight hiccup in the road, you’re living together. Domestic life could not come easier for the two of you. It is a blessing to be able to wake up to those sparkling emerald eyes, spend the morning getting ready together, have lunch together, cozy up on the couch after a long day with a warm meal, and then retire to the bedroom where you could fall asleep to the gentle beating of her heart.

Life is perfect with Melissa. There is nothing that you would change about her, and she wouldn’t change anything about you. Sure, the sometimes incredibly short temper on your girlfriend over menial things was challenging, and she didn’t necessarily enjoy the fact that you would kick your shoes off at the front door instead of placing them in the shoe basket you had. But every person has their faults, and you’ve come to learn that she needs space over certain things, and she’s realized that rather than pick a fight, she can just toss your shoes into the bin.

The topic of marriage and future is few and far between. Really, the only times that you ever spoke about it were when you first started dating, and then again when you took the leap and moved in with her. Neither of you were gunning for marriage or children, and that made the redhead breathe easier- knowing that you wouldn’t leave her over the topics.

You, in a blissful and loving haze, don’t know though, that things in Melissa’s mind are changing. You’re younger than her, and while you’ve made it quite clear that you’re more than okay with just being partners, doubts of you leaving her for someone else are never far from her mind. You could have anyone you wanted- a strong and beautiful man or woman who would gladly take your hand in marriage without hesitation and mother or father your children who would no doubt be the complete opposite of what a Schemmenti child is.

So when your girlfriend brings up the topic that is relatively taboo in your household, you’re taken aback.

“What?” you ask over a glass of wine, feet propped up on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, mi amore,” Melissa sighs as she plays with one of the rings sitting on your finger. Subconsciously, her hand begins to rub where an engagement and wedding ring could be sitting if you had decided that you wanted something else in life.

“Mel, I don’t need that stuff,” you tell her softly. “I just need you, and I’m the happiest woman alive.”

“I just…” the redhead trails off. “I’ve been thinking about it lately that you could have anyone you want, and maybe I’m just holding you back.”

At that you turn to face her, bringing your feet under you as you force her to look you in the eye. “Melissa Schemmenti.”

She hums, dropping her own eyes down to her lap.

“I could have anyone I want, and I have the person I want,” you tell your girlfriend fiercely. “You are not holding me back in the slightest. All I could ever want is the life I’ve built with you, and I do not need you getting in your pretty little head about the absurd ‘what if’s’ that are never going to come true. You’re stuck with me. I love you.”

“I love you too, mi amore,” she whispers as she leans in to kiss you.

“You are everything I could ever want,” you promise Melissa quietly. “Smart, sexy, confident, funny… brazen. Everything I could ever want, and then some.”

That night, just like every other night, you fall asleep with your head on her chest. And while the second grade teacher would usually follow suit relatively quickly, her mind is racing. She had always been so against marriage- giving her heart to someone else, only for it to be broken again the way Joe had broken her heart. She had spent so much time putting the pieces back together again, and even then, there were still cracks and scars from that relationship.

But… in every sense of the word other than legal parameters, the two of you are practically married as it is. You’re living together, you sleep in the same bed, she’s already given her heart to you. So maybe… just maybe, marriage isn’t quite off the table. 

She knows that you really don’t mind not being married, that you are perfectly okay with just spending the rest of your days together in the same realm that you are now, but… she also knows that you wouldn’t mind being married. And you’ve been so you about the topic of marriage- kind and understanding of her hesitations, doubts, and fears. You’ve never pushed for it because you’re so respectful of her boundaries. But she’s also heard when your coworkers ask when you’re finally going to have a ring. She’s also heard the way that you sigh softly, just the slightest bit of disappointment traceable in that little breath before smiling and saying that you don’t need one as long as you have Melissa. You’re just happy that you’re able to call her your girlfriend, your partner, the woman of your dreams.

The woman realizes that so far in this relationship, you’ve compromised on every big thing. You were willing to wait until she was ready to date, despite the fact that you knew she was into you way before she finally asked you out (she found out from Barbara that you had confided in your colleague and claimed that you were okay with waiting until Melissa came around to it herself). You were willing to accept her non-negotiable when it came to the romantic aspect of your relationship. You didn’t push her into living together until she brought up the subject, and then almost took back her offer because her own fears and doubts took over. The foundation of this relationship was mostly built upon the redhead’s views, and you were happy to go along with them because all you knew was that you wanted Melissa. 

And maybe… maybe it’s time she think about you. Of course, she still has doubts and fears about it, but jumping into a relationship with you was terrifying, and she thinks about where she is now. She said never in a million years was she going to get married again, but here she was- almost certain that at some point in the near future, she would be asking you to marry her. 

TAGS (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

Can u maybe do like a Damian wayne x reader where they're friends and all but sometimes they (reader) tends to zone out a lot and think abt a lot of deep ish things that cause her to make weird faces without even realizing? Like she's much more quieter than usual and when he turns to look at her, he sees that she's visibly very upset but for seemingly no reason.

Oh, and if u want angst, maybe the specific thing she's thinking abt has something to do with him so she's really annoyed and snappy when he asks her what's wrong? Like she's be thinking abt how rude guys in their school are and then it kinda reminds her of Damian. Idk🙈🙉

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

am i good at angst? no… will i try? absolutely.

NOT YOUR FAULT.

pairings — damian wayne - al ghul x reader (platonic)

warnings — i tried to write angst but gave up, that’s all (and the ending sucks that’s not my fault (it is))

summary — pretty much what the request is gangsters

notes — i don’t know how to write angst 😞

━━━━━━━ YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN THE SIGNS before it was too late. you were sleeping more, food was suddenly too plain, you were easy to irritate, and you felt like you couldn’t do anything.

but, of course, you hadn’t understood when they began, you just blamed it on stress, since you had tons of tests coming up that you were relentlessly studying.

at some point, your grades had started slipping, and your teachers didn’t miss that. you were forgetting to turn in assignments, and whenever you suddenly couldn’t sleep the night before, you started falling asleep in class.

multiple teachers had brought it up after class with you, and you were able to come up with excuse after excuse.

eventually, Damian noticed. Damian, one of the only kids who didn’t ignore you this year, your first year of high school. but, obviously, that wasn’t always the case. Damian had originally been mean, tormenting you alongside all his other friends.

Damian only noticed because of your lack of emotions throughout the time you’d spend with him. on top of that, said time was clearly dwindling.

“hey, hey.” Damian called after you, catching up soon after and walking with you outside, far enough away from other kids so that the two of you could talk without anyone being nosy.

“what’s going on? you’ve been acting weird the past few days.” Damian’s face was clearly concerned, which irritated you further.

sure, you’d been quieter recently, and you almost always had a sour look on your face, but why would he bring it up?

“nothing, im fine.” you defensively crossed your arms over your chest — also doing so for a little bit of extra comfort as Damian seemed to be interrogating you.

“bullshit. talk to me, i’m your friend.” Damian stared at you, face full of worry.

“nothing.” you reiterated, “i said i’m fine, Damian. i’m fine.” you put emphasis on your words.

“you’re not a good liar.” he stated.

“like you even care.” you scoffed, turning on your heel and walking away. you found semblance in the school library, in the back of the room where you doubted anyone would go looking for you in.

with the silence of the room suddenly hitting you, your guard was up and your eyes were relentlessly looking around.

you probably looked angry. if anyone were to look at you, they’d probably think you were pissed off. were you? yeah, probably. why were you mad? you had no clue.

inhaling carefully, you felt your body begin to unwind, your heart rate slowly slowed.

guilt and regret flooded your system. you could then remember the way you’d treated Damian.

he was truthfully your only friend, he hadn’t deserved that.

i’m sorry, you sent the message. i didn’t mean to be so rude, you sent afterwards. he read the messages almost instantly.

it’s fine, not ur fault, he sent back.

sleepover at mine? you asked him, gathering yourself again before making your way to your next class. he agreed, and the day went on swimmingly.

the sleepover was practically the same, nothing bad happened, and it was easier to talk about it with him.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[bluee08]

Astro observations 《3》

Disclaimer : Not an astrologer, take it with a grain of salt, only for fun.

🫧 Asteroid Orma in 8th house might be the people to leave an impression of being hella reserved in a mysterious way. Like they might tell you a story and you will always feel like there is something more to it.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house people often say something offending without meaning to and regret the very next second. Trust me it's not their fault, they wanted to say something else and ended up saying something totally unexpected. They also feel guilty about it for days and feel sad that they might have come off rude for no reason.

🫧 Neptune conjuct ascendant, they are the real chameleons. They can mold themselves as per the situation demands. Ngl it comes handy sometimes. Like I remember when I was in 6th grade I was caught into a very serious matter but I pretended as if nothing happened and flew away. When the other guys rattled me out to the teacher, she said It's impossible that I was involved and that she doesn't believe them. She didn't hear a single word against me. Lol no, I wasn't her favorite student or something. It's just that I had maintained a certain reputation among different sect of people as per my own convenience. Call it manipulation if you want, if that doesn't explain the planet itself.

🪩 Pluto trine Lilith, it's not always sexuality that comes to the mind when we hear about these folk. Lilith here is aware that pluto is her benefactor. But it takes time for her to feel comfortable in her own domain. She is powerful here and knows what she wants. Definitely won't take anyone's bullshit. Her transformation can be scary and ruthless if someone tries to pin her down.

🫧 Jupiter sextile Pluto have a deep interest in forbidden things. Learning things that often people consider taboo is their thrill. They may or may not share the knowledge but they are always resourceful about topics relatated to dark themes of life. Feel free to discuss anything with them, they won't judge you infact they will help you inhance your own boundaries. You will be surprised how normal they'll sound while talking about things that might trigger other people even if they have gone through the same.

🪩 The one guy I had a Aphrodite-Eros synastry with made me feel like...idk strange. I was on a constant pedestal. I cared a lot about him. His Eros conjucted my Aphrodite and I looked out for him a lot. There was a thick sexual tension but also comfort. He also made me get a taste of jealousy. Which I don't usually feel. I used to constantly compare myself with the girls he used to interact with. We were not dating but I just couldn't help but feel insecure. Not because of him....idk why I was acting like that when I knew I was pretty enough.

🫧 Mars opposite Venus people get sudden mood swings from doing absolutely nothing to doing everything in next one hour. Oh and they'll do it again if it ain't asthetically pleasing to the eye.

🪩 Sun sextile Saturn, trust me they do know how to control themselves and take things with a grain of salt. Their ego is well maintained and not fragile unlike others. Very understanding and real mature people.

🫧 Sun sextile/trine Moon are the most compassionate and intuned with their selves. They know themselves better than anyone else. Also they always know exactly what they are feeling at any given time. Even if they are depressed at some point they won't give up easily.

🪩 Neptune negatively aspecting Saturn, dreaming big is easy, isn't it? But when you start implanting those dreams in real life your dreams remain dreams only. Don't worry though. It's a lesson. Don't give up, try harder. Dream as big as you want but at the end of the day remember to open your eyes and start afresh with new motivation. And please don't listen to those who tell you to quit it down. Your dreams are not weird or impossible or too much. Those people are just jealous because of how big your ambitions are and how far you are willing to go for it. Don't restrict your imagination for someone else. Believe yourself, you can do it!

🫧 Pluto in 10th house solar return chart can indicate a huge change in academic life or anywhere you are working at. For better or worse you better take precautions before hand. I am having it this year with mars in 3rd house and trust me from an above average student my grades are becoming poor. If I were to describe my graph I can see it coming downhill like a water slide which is creating quite an impression on my parents as well as my teachers. Note the sarcasm.

🪩 Saturn in 7th house could indicate having no interest in relationships at first or people being afraid to ask you out but when you grow up, settle well, you find yourself looking for your better half, resulting in either meeting them late or doing an arrange marriage.

🫧 Saturn opposite ascendant are the people who often get told that they look unapproachable on first glance. Kind of the 'out of league' vibe surrounds them. Which is not always true but I have noticed people do think twice before approaching them. These sweeties are also damn soft on the inside but for only those who do dare to talk to them. They rarely take the initiative themselves. But come ask help from them and they will risk their lives for you.

🪩 Mercury aspecting chiron could indicate healing your wounds by diving into the world of books. You might like to read or write journals when you are feeling down. There might be a small diary or pages that you have written when you were at your lowest. Its also possible that you start writing a novel or something to help you voice out your pain through written words.

🫧 Sun conjuct asteroid Medusa. Damn! You could have curly hair or hairs that are a lot wavy, thick and voluminated. Highly blessed in hair department. Many people might have praised you or complimented on your hair from a very young age. This could also indiacte a lot of body hair. From top to bottom you have body hair and trust me its not a bad thing. Its a blessing of being powerful, embrace it. It's just a hunch but some may have complimented you on that too.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house can't watch porn without audio or no communication during the deed. They always want to hear the sounds, no, they NeeD to hear the sounds raw! Only visuals is boring for them just as adding some weird music to the video. No, its not creating the mood, its ruining my experience, pls stop it.

🫧 You don't wanna hear someone moan who has their personal planets conjucting asteroid Sirene. Trust me you will get addicted. Its insane and I am not bluffing. Their voice may or may not be as addictive in general but in bed? Or when they want to take something from you? You will be trapped even before you blink. It's dangerous.

🪩 What's with Taurus Mars and Laziness? So much potential and still they study few hours before exam, complete assignments few minutes before submission and still have the audacity to say they will easily pass. Like bro if that's how you pass then I can't imagine how you will top....

🫧 Moon in 4th house people are highly invested in family matters. Family comes first to them and then the rest. The kind of people to tolerate an unhappy married life for the sake of their kids because they can't see their family being split apart.

🪩 Mars aspecting Pluto. It doesn't matter if it is positively aspected or negatively aspected, there is a lot of pent up frustration and anger issues underneath this placement. If provoked or underdeveloped could result in a very sudden and violent rage from this person. Better to leave them alone in such situations.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Coach ||

Pairing: Dark!Pedri Gonzalez | You.

Description: What happens when the boy you used to ignore in middle school becomes an international footballer while you are so broke that you cannot even afford to learn football; a mutual passion, but the boy -still very much enamored by you- reconnects with you and even offers to give you private lessons? 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, Pedri is a manipulative asshole, humiliation, thigh riding, pinching, dumbification, infantilization, boob play, inspection kink, slight choking, allusions to stalking, helplessness on your part, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, overstimulation, creampie, hair pulling, biting.

Disclaimer: This story does not represent Pedro Gonzalez in any way. It contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Note: For everyone who was waiting, thank you for being patient. Ps, this is what happens when I write while I am in subspace. 

.

Today was one of those days. 

You had been at this for long enough to know it. 

Whenever Pedri walked into the ground with that one glint in his eye and with his jaw set in a certain position, you knew it. 

It had been shocking for you at first.

Hard. 

But you were used to it now.

Numb.

So you weren't even surprised when he got down to his bullshit. 

“You know, bebé” you loathed the pet name. It made you feel dumb, helpless and clueless. But that was exactly what you were. And had been. “I say we exercise more today than play” same old excuse. “This one–”

“Will increase the agility and endurance of my thighs” you completed for him, jaw stiff. 

He had already manspread on the only bench in the football ground he had rented out just for you to train and play in. Pedri's eyes were crinkled as he peeked up at you through the sun by tilting his head back and in the shade of the tree behind him to shield himself from the orange light. His arms lazily rested against the backrest. 

“Such a fast little learner, aren't you, bebé?” You wanted to smack the smirk off his face. 

You had told him not to call you the hideous name many times. But he insisted that since you were a baby to the pitch, it was the only appropriate name for you on there. 

Once when you got too agitated he proposed that if you managed to score against him, he'd stop… And obviously you were not someone who could score against FC Barcelona's Pedri. 

“Only because I have a good teacher” you resigned yourself to your fate and abandoned the ball before you walked over to where he was, lifting the too high for comfort skort that you wore before you climbed onto his sculpted thigh. This piece was one of the many he had gotten you for the free football training that he gave you. 

And you would have been grateful if it weren't for them making you look like a sports themed porn video model than someone actually learning football.

“Aw baby” you backed up a little when he booped your nose appreciatively. His sweet and ‘easy going' demeanor was the worst part. It was meant to make you feel like he was a generous friend doing you a favor for free when he could be doing many other more rewarding things with his precious time. That you being hostile in return made you look like you were the bad one. “Aren't you the sweetest little student one could have?” 

He was the absolute worst. 

“Only for you, coach” you replied as you adjusted yourself against the muscles of his thighs by rocking your hips until your covered pussy was spread. You had no choice but to be sweet and compliant. 

Or he refused to teach you. 

And football -even though it was too late for you to make a career out of it, not that you had the money or skill for even the prerequisites- was all you had in your shitty little life. 

It muted the world out for the time you were on the pitch. 

So much so that you could even endure the lewd ‘grazes’ and infuriating ‘tackles’ Pedri guised as guidance. 

“Go on, then” his strength and unexpected touch always gave you a sensory shock. So you flinched when he patted the side of your thigh. “We don't want your body to get cold now, come on. Get to it while it's still warm” you nodded as you took in a deep breath and prepared yourself.

You bit your bottom lip to withstand the shame and burst of shivers that your pussy's grazing against his strong thigh caused. Placing your hands on your laps, you looked down at him and he lazily stared back at you with a smile, the mop of his thick, dark hair sticking to his forehead in some spots due to the sweat beads that had gathered there. 

“Feels good, doesn't it, bebé?” He had taught you obedience in a truly cynical way. Good things come to good girls. 

Though Pedri was evil, he was not particularly deceitful. “Y- Yes, coach” if you just granted him his depraved wishes he was actually very benevolent. 

“Good girl, keep working those pretty legs” his rough hands now stroked and fondled your thighs that flexed everytime you dragged yourself so far up, your tender bud pressed into his hard skin before you moved your intimates down to your entrance that was already starting to tingle. “Look at how caring and nice your coach is, huh, bebé?” You nodded as you tried to keep your voice, that had betrayed you on one too many occasions, tightly locked in your throat. 

He didn't prefer to overtly pressurize or force you. At least, you didn't think so. No, Pedri liked you submitting to him despite not wanting to do so better. It got his sick shit going. 

“Tsk, tsk. Use those words now, hm?” You could feel your pussy lips squishing as each rub burnt more and more heat into your cunt. “I want to hear that pretty voice” because it will break or you will moan and he will win. 

Pedri loved to rub your nose into the helplessness of your condition. 

Just like back in middle school.

When he would follow you around and you, the beauty and brains amongst the students of the whole institution would not give him so much as a considering glance. Which would cause some of your friends to even make fun of him. 

Of course, your coach would never outwardly admit it because of both his savior complex and the petty I am the bigger person agenda that he had been pushing since day one, you just knew it.

You could literally hear the ‘not so high and mighty now, are you?’, in his voice sometimes. 

You had sped up a considerable bit into a swift and steady pace. Your lips had slackened and your mouth had fallen open. “Y- Yes, Pedri-iii–!” The upper half of your body toppled against his since you hadn't been holding anything for support. 

You hated how that was not enough for you to cease your animalistic panting as you continued to hump his thigh, your forehead now resting against Pedri's as your sports cap pushed upwards. 

“It's okay, bebé” his eyes were darker than they had been before. One of his hands caressed your ass comfortingly. “You can hold onto coach. After all, support and guidance are what teachers are for, no?” You pathetically tried to hold a semblance of your ground as you rubbed your pussy closer and closer to the kind of edge only Pedri could push you from, not that you liked to acknowledge it. 

But you only collapsed against him again after you had lifted yourself up halfway without leaning against him. Your spine trembled from the sensitivity and he chuckled, the reverberations causing for short stabbing waves of pleasure to travel up your cunt which was sopping by now. 

Taking a deep breath of defeat, you placed your smaller hands on his strong shoulders and managed to push yourself back up with ease this time. 

“See, bebé? That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Your seeping pussy hole clenched when you felt his manly fingers creep in and up the material of your skorts. “All you had to do was listen to coach like a good little girl” then his relaxed jaw tightened and a muscle ticked as he collected a pinchful of your buttcheek between his index finger and thumb before pressing them together in a punishing manner. 

That was the way he preferred; the silent way. Where he would not use words that could be remembered vividly and misinterpreted in all the ways. No. Because you see, he was not the bad guy here. So he would both express his disappointment and push his desires forth like a cruel and slithering snake. 

Silently and devastatingly.

“Y- Yes, coach!” You cried out from the pain and the pleasure it caused by flipping your stomach into a puddle of fiery wantonness that travelled right down to your pussy before spreading over your folds. 

“Such a good girl” you were getting close, which meant you were about to get a whole lot more stupid than you already were. “Come here and show your coach some appreciation” his free hand -the one that wasn't groping your ass- wrapped around your neck before he pulled you down and hoisted himself up with ease to press his lips against yours. 

“Thank you so much, coach. You're so patient and kind with me” you parroted out the words you had been taught through cruel blackmailing. Your voice was humiliating in how it broke and you gasped and moaned through your words, the effort you put into suppressing it all only making you sound like you were on the verge of tears with need. 

“Don't sell yourself short, bebé, you're not exactly a bad student either” he let go of your throat to retreat his hand by dragging it down your chest and letting it linger and move over your covered boobs. “We haven't done an inspection in some time, have we, bebé?” He had been rather busy lately, so no. 

Your heart fell but your pussy fired up even more. “N- No, coach” you kept using the honourific because you knew he liked it when you did. 

Pedri had an inspection segment in your training. Where he would check and measure the quality of your health and wellbeing every few sessions. 

That required you stripping down to nothing and tying your hair on the top of your head and out of his way. Then he would make you stand with your body spread out in a star position before he would examine, touch and grope every bump, surface and crevice of your body to make sure nothing was wrong. He would squeeze you in places and asked you how much it hurt on a scale of one to ten to check for muscle damage. Next you would have to touch your toes while spreading your legs wide. Pedri would part your ass cheeks and ask you to cough. If you tried questioning it, you were told that athelete hygiene and wellbeing was complex and he was the professional, which was basically a shut the fuck up call. The threatening edge of his tone also quietened you before you could build up more courage. Then you would have to prop your back against the bench and hold your legs apart and out of his way in that your buckled knees had to touch your shoulders. All you had to do was to focus on his dark hair as he peeled open your pussy lips and examined you there. After that you were to ‘air’ yourself out because he said it was good for your skin after all the sweating. That was to be done while increasing the durability of your muscles. So you would be placed in the middle of the field -the point where the wind was the strongest- with your head earth cast and limbs spread out while you held yourself up on all fours. On warm days Pedri would even generously pour water all over your kneeling form to make you feel fresh. 

Because he was a caring coach. 

Whether you had ever been teased for leaking while he went about that business, if you ever came from being pulled apart so intimately, and if the aforementioned things had happened, the number of times they happened, you were not willing to disclose to anyone. 

Perhaps not even your own self. 

“Let's just air out today” he decided as he glanced at the pinking sun. Evenings were what you two could mutually manage so that's when you did this. And it would be dark soon so you didn't have a lot of time left. You felt like screaming at him. It wouldn't be him if he ever spoke straight.

Always with the twisting and manipulating. 

“Yes, coach~” you moaned out as you whimpered from how Pedri was moving you up and down his thigh with the help of his firm grip on your ass. You took one of your hands off his shoulder to fiddle with your skimpy sports bra before you gave up somehow getting rid of it and instead pulled it down to bring your tits spilling out towards the male's face. The tightness of the bra’s neckline only made them push upwards more, the movement of your cunt fucking against his lap making them jiggle. 

“May I inspect them, bebé?” It was a bloody insult to injury. He always asked shit like this like you had a choice. 

And yet the rage added to the tightness in your hips. 

You were on the brink.

“O- Of course, coa– coach!” You hadn't noticed just how sensitive they had become until he reached for one of your hardened nipples and your back arched from the sting it caused. 

“Not to be unprofessional, bebé, but you are truly the prettiest girl I've ever seen” you reckoned this compliment coming from an international football star, especially a male one, would send any girl over the moon. You were no exception. If only said football star hadn't been the middle school loser you used to ignore and now had to submit to like this only because he made accessible for you the one thing that helped you to keep going.  

All it took for your pathetic self to cum the daylights out of itself was for him to circle the shape of your hard nipples and squeeze your other breast before he pressed a wet kiss to each of your nubs. 

Your ears went numb and the all too familiar feeling of sweet and hot spilling of your loins exploded between your hips. You threw your head back and moaned his name out loud while you rode out your high. 

Since your heart was in your ears and you became physically incapable of fathoming anything other than the pleasure burning your body up and threatening to well out of all your openings -and out of one of them it actually did- you didn't notice him chuckling at you until after your high had subsided. 

You tilted your head to the side before you furrowed your eyebrows to express your confusion. 

“Such a naughty little girl you are, bebé” if it weren't for your post-orgam sensitivity, your jaw would have ticked. But you were panting too much to do anything than to sit on his lap soiled by your own cum and staring at him dumbly. “All I had meant to do was to work up your pretty little legs but you being you just had to be the messy little baby that you are” you felt a glaze of tears well up in your eyes. 

In-fucking-sufferable. 

“Okay, we don't have long now, come on” he switched back into his professional voice and patted your covered up messy pussy with the back of his fingers. “Show me some of the dribbling I taught you in the last session and we will call it a day” you wanted to cry out loud.

This was a downwards spiral of the most depraved sort. 

“Yes, coach” he tried his best to hide his devilish grin but you knew what was about to happen; where this command was gonna take you. 

You gingerly climbed off of Pedri and adjusted your skirt like he didn't know every centimeter of your body already, blinking your eyes to keep your vision from spinning and trying to tough the shaking of your legs out. 

That was how his making you cum always left you. 

“Leave those like that” he referred to your tits when you tried to adjust your bra while bringing the ball closer to him. “We haven't done inspection in a while so we will compensate how we can” yeah right. 

“Yes, coach” you obediently responded before you took a stabilizing breath and focused on the ball before you got to it. 

And exactly as you had expected, your weakened legs buckled and your body tumbled before your ass hit the ground with a thump. Your heart rate picked up again as you nervously scrambled yourself up. You could feel the intensity of his dark stare and it was making you admittedly nervous. Oh, no. Yet your pussy curled at the thought of him getting pissed because of you. Fuck. You gulped and set the ball before you started again but it slipped from under your foot and you nearly hit the ground face first. Pedri didn't say anything, he only spoke out of necessity. Your bottom lip wobbled as you adjusted the brim of your cap and recentered the ball. Under usual circumstances, Pedri would have given you some guidance or reassurance by now. He actually did teach you good football on days when he wasn't possessed by Incubus himself. You started again and thought it would be different this time, that you had got it, and that it would be soon over now like he had promised. 

But you never seemed to learn that hope was a foolish thing. 

Your thighs trembled and the muscles inside them twitched. Before you could even register what was going on, you had landed in front of Pedri's feet on your hands and knees. A stifled sob left you. 

He sighed. “I wonder why your endurance hasn't increased even a little from when we did this the last time” which was 2 months ago. “The exercise I recommended for it was sure to work…” Your head further lowered in shame like you were in the wrong. 

“That's ‘cause I haven't been doing it, coach” your cheeks and eyes burnt alike in humiliation. Thick drops of hot tears thumped on the grass in front of you. 

“Oh, really? Why not?” He feigned innocence like he didn't know that you hadn't been doing it.

You remained at his feet because you knew that's how he liked you to be, deep down. And you didn't feel like disappointing him even more than you probably already had. 

“J- Just…” You did not even dare to let your mind wander to how he even knew that you hadn't been doing. “Just…” You chose ignorance. It was bliss. Life was hard enough and you could not afford this right now. 

Pedri sighed as if he was actually unhappy about what was about to happen. “You know what has to happen now, don't you?” You nodded, utterly defeated as you slowly rose to your wobbly feet and began to trudge yourself to the middle of the field, relieving yourself of your clothing as you went by, taking off and dropping each article behind you while you walked. 

You collapsed on your knees in the middle of the field and propped yourself ass up on your hands and knees, widening your legs for him to see and access your cunt better. 

“You know I hate to do this but you just have to forget things like the silly little baby that you are, don't you?” You feel his knees touch against yours as he kneels behind you. One of his rough hands grab you by the hip to keep you in place whilst the other holds his rock hard cock over the smooth surface of your ass. 

“Y- Yes, coach. I am sorry–” your voice disappears when he suddenly taps his leaking tip against your pucker and you nearly have a panic attack. Though you don't hear it you feel his body vibrate behind you and you know he's laughing at you, your panic, your helplessness, your humiliation. “... C- Coach” you finish breathlessly when he prods your wrinkled up pucker with his tip but then drags it down the dent and between the hot cavern past your pussy lips. 

“Well, you know what I say,” the fat apex of his thick cock glides a little before it finds an opening and pushes itself between your folds to kiss your pussy hole that blinks in response. “A good girl's one who owns her mistakes.”

“Yes, coach– hnnng!” Your back arches when he enters you with a jerk, the mess you made in your panties couples with the precum coating his tip aiding the penetration. 

The task that had landed you in this situation was that every night before bed you were to get in this same position that you were in right now and stay like that for some 15 minutes before you were to rub -and strictly only rub- your pussy -because Pedri insisted that it was just as much a muscle as any other in your body- until you were so close you felt the initial heat of your orgasm before stopping. Then you were to continue being in the same position with your head lowered to watch how your legs were doing for another 15. 

This was to build the endurance levels of all your muscles as well as develop in you a restraint and discipline all football players were required to have. 

Usually he made the edging worth your while soon after but as mentioned before, he had been busy and so you were left with nothing but the frustration. 

So you had stopped. 

As to why you couldn't just let yourself go and cum by yourself, it was because you were incapable of doing so. 

Unless he was actually there with you, your body would either refuse itself orgasms or ruin them for you. 

Only Pedri could make them make sense.

“Tell me, bebé,” his mask only slipped when you were like this. He would say things and touch you in ways that betrayed his little charade. “Did you purposefully disobey coach like a bad little baby because you like him breaking in your beautiful muscles?” Yes, that is what he had termed this.  

Breaking in of your muscles.

And you.

Your sensitive pussy was being overworked as the burn of overstimulation overwhelmed you with each resounding thrust. Pedri had found a pace and the upper half of your body had collapsed against your folded arms. Your cheek rubbed against it with each thrust as you involuntarily moaned out loud, watching the stretch of the field aimlessly. 

Pedri snorts as he breathes heavily, snapping his hips harder and harder as he continues to fuck deeper and deeper into you. “I always forget that your brain is also a muscle so it breaks each time I've to help you out like this” you can only croak in response as you feel another orgasm building. He tries to get your attention attention again but you can only let out wanton moans and grunts. “Hey!” And so it comes; his hand cutting through the air before it loudly cracks against your ass. 

“Huh!” You snap out of the haze of your euphoria only to jump again because another one lands on your other cheek. You were barely even following him so you squeak out, “Yes, coach! You're right, coach!” He chuckles. 

“The sweetest little thing, aren't you, bebé?” Just then his cock hits you where you are sensitive while he lands a spank on your pucker at the same time and you cry out, toppling over the edge as your vision declines and hearing follows its suit. 

Your body shakes with spasms as you clutch the grass to withstand the pounding he's giving to your g-spot. It is too much for you when his hot cum begins to fill you up and the air fills with the lewd sound of his cock slopping in and out of you while specks go flying all about. 

“Come here” he growls as he pulls you back up against his chest by your hair so you bounce upwards with each thrust he gives you while he fucks his high up your sensitive womb. Pedri wraps his arm around your neck so you're in a headlock and his lips and teeth attack the side of your face that is in his reach. He kisses, he licks, he sucks and he bites to withstand the pleasure that his cock feels in the hot enclosure of your tight little cunt. 

Pedri even slips his fingers between your legs to rub your folds only to make you cry out just a bit louder.

It takes you both a bit to fully calm down but when he pulls you off his cock with a loud and humiliating squelch before putting your nude form against the ground to fix himself before sitting down beside you and gently pulling you into his lap to calm you down, he sweetly rubs your muscles as you weakly rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Here” he picks up something from beside him before handing you it and you cannot help but tear up. 

You had lost one of your air pods a week ago and hadn't been able to afford a fix or substitute. How he knew this, as you hadn't seen him in a while, was beyond you. But as you saw the brand new boxed up set, hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you only shook your head in a you didn't have to fashion since you were too messed up for words. 

You threw your arms around him in the way he liked and kissed his cheek as you let your breasts press into his chest. He just chuckled and patted your head like a father would his child's. You bit back your sob as you let yourself surrender. 

It wasn't because you were touched that you were crying, no. 

It was because you knew. 

This was the peak of his craft. 

He had begun reeling you in already so he could destroy you again whenever he pleased later. 

Building you up to break you pretty for himself. 

And then reassemble you in the fashion of his preference only for the same cycle to continue. 

Maybe he was right. You were pathetic and you liked this more than you would ever admit.

After all, you came everytime and anytime he wanted you to… didn't you?

[bleaksqueak]

just wanted to say, as a fellow artist, THANK YOU for talking about shortcuts 🙏🙏 ive had baggage over not doing art """properly""" (re: the repetitive frustrating way just to prove i can), and im finally letting myself use tricks like warping and textured brushes and such, but i still feel weird sometimes. then i see a batshit amazing artist like you uses them, and i feel better. so thanks 😭 (and yes aye-eye is not included in this, mass theft isnt a shortcut)

The great thing about baggage is you can and absolutely should work up to just checking that crap in at the front desk and then conveniently forget to ever pick it back up~ Seriously though, it's no problem, and I'm glad to hear you're loosening up with it! If it helps, shortcuts are drilled into you if you work professionally in art. The only people who don't use shortcuts who work professionally are people who simply don't want to (be it stubbornly or out of enjoyment) and people who can afford to (names so big that deadlines will either be lenient or are dictated by the artist themself) The urgency to do everything the painstakingly hard way is, weirdly enough, a mindset most common in hobbyist spaces. People who want to do it that way (out of enjoyment, out of pride) are more than welcome to do it (as I'll sometimes just do slow crosshatching, no special brushes, because I find it relaxing)... but those who insist others do it or they aren't a real artist are often speaking from a position of bad faith, or are repeating what they had drilled into them by another hobbyist or their childhood/teen year art teachers, *or* are doing it to place themselves on a pedestal competitively. So, basically! Do things manually if you feel like it, but also know that there's hardly a "pro" out there that doesn't utilize a lot of fun little tricks and shortcuts. We still do it by our artistry, which is where the line is drawn with generated bullshit (also, you know, it's theft), but I guess a good way to look at it is like this: When you're drawing a piece of storytelling art or a comic page and the character has an elaborate costume with chains (my own character's lapel pins... we can look at Spawn, or a Nomura character and their department store of belts)...What's more important? The intricate detail of the chain, proving you can do it (again and again and again, since every angle would need to be drawn anew) Or the character acting, the composition, the atmosphere? It's the aspects that tell something about the character, the action, and the story that are always going to win out and matter, meaning that chain is just busy work-- a prime candidate for a quick swipe of a chain brush, or if you're me, this little friend:

So, yeah!! At the end of the day, the most important thing is to do what brings you joy or what meets your goal. I do love drawing clothes and I love details (love patterns and gold details especially)... but I also love finishing my work and shortcuts allow me to focus on the charcter acting and the atmosphere instead! Go forth and don't feel guilty. So long as you're not stealing from anyone and having fun, you're not doing anything wrong.

[petew21-blog]

Detention

My English teacher just absolutely embarassed me in fornt of the whole class. Not the whole class, cause Joe and Chris are not here, but still. But I am glad they didn't see it. They would have made my life a living hell and called me names, but so would I.

The three of us have been friends since our mothers met on a playground one day. We have been inseperable. Sometimes literally. We even used super glue to never be away from each other. Yeah we went to the ER that night. But we all still laughed like crazy everytime we did pranks like this. We loved to do pranks on other people, but over the time we got bored, they either knew us and our pranks already or they didn't react enough to let us have the final laugh worth having.

That's why we started doing pranks on each other. It was quite brutal sometimes, like the last two prank I did on both of them, but you know, that's the game. We always want to be better than the other.

Back to present

My teacher, Mr. Lionel, called me in front of the whole class and forced me to sing. He said that I can sing Baby by Justin Bieber, cause he remembers that I once wrote that in one of my essays to be my favourite song. WHAT? I would never write that. That's one of my worst nightmares. Of course the whole class laughed.

Then the principal called out through the school radio, that my mom called and brought me new underwear, cause she knows how much I have trouble holding it in.

"That's BULLSHIT!" I yelled out during the class. The stranges thing was that Mr. Lionel didn't scold me right away as he always would, but kept on laughing. He then looked at the class and understood should have acted sooner.

"All right, Mr. Donovan. Principal's office, right now." he handed me the note for the principal and I left.

I was curious as always and took a peek. It said "For being a naughty boy. Deserves spanking. P.S. everything going according to plan so far"

What kind of a language is this. Why would Mr. Lionel write this? Is this how they always talk about us? Cause this is disturbing. I entered the office. The principal smiled at me from ear to ear. He let me sit down and immediately stood up above me

"So what was it this time, Mr. Donovan?"

"I... reacted on what you said about me in the radio. I said something I shouldn't have."

"Well. That is unfortunate. I might have bad news in that matter I am afraid that might make the situation worse. I have to inform you that we have been searching lockers of students for unwanted drugs and yours contained 5 great bags of weed. Therefore I am going to contact your parents and make you leave our school. Detention is definitely not in order. You have to understand that we don't want anyone to carry drugs to our school."

"But principal, that's not mine. I would have never done that. I have never even used it nor would I ever sell it. It must have been only some kind of prank by my friends."

"Are you trying to say we should expell them?"

"No... of course not. It's just not mine and I don't want to be expelled. Please. I'll do anything."

"Anything you say? he said and rearranged his balls in his pants

"NO FUCKING WAY IS THIS HAPPENING. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE" I started panicking

"Do not worry Mr. Donovan. There is no need to panic. Mr. Lionel is coming now and we will think how to make a proper punishment for you."

We sat in silence, I would bet anything that he was still rubbing himself under the desk. I am not gonna get raped by some old perv today. Even if I would have to stab him in the eye with his pen

Suddenly the door opened. Mr. Lionel came in. The two of them still sat in silence. Then the principal said:"Ok, Mr. Lionel. Show our student here, what he's missing"

Mr. Lionel took of his shirt and started flexing at us. I had to admit that he was very good looking, but the thought that the principal was still observing me was horrible. I needed to get out.

"So, Billy. Wanna touch me? I'll let you pass"

"Sir, this is... I... NO! I won't do any of this. Leave me the fuck alone both of you, you two creeps!" I got to the door, but found out that Mr. Lionel locked it when he entered.

They looked at themsleves. And then started laughing histerically

Prinicpal:"It's just a prank, bro!"

Me:"What?!"

Mr. Lionel:"Dude, you were so scared. I bet you really do need the underwear now. Must be all wet haha"

Principal:"You still don't get it right, bro?"

Me:"Get what?"

Mr. Lionel:"Dude, it's us. Joe and Chris. And we PRANKED youuu!"

I couldn't believe it. But it was the only thing that made sense

Me:"Wait, how did you? Am I dreaming? Is it really happening?"

Chris (principal):"Yeah it's real bro. We went to the town to find something for our new prank to get revenge on you and we found this talisman in an old shop. And we swapped bodies. We found out that we can swap as many times we want. And then we came up with a plan to prank you. We even planned to embarass you even more, but it would be too cruel."

Me:"Guys, what the fuck? You made me believe that my principal was about to... That was it. We're done with the pranks. No more pranking each other ok? No more revenge pranking. Anything"

Joe (Mr. Lionel):"Ok, dude. Sorry. But you gotta admit it was a great prank, haha"

Me:"Yeah, I believed it."

Chris (Prinicipal):"Guys, are you done brushing your vaginas? I need to get out of this old body like right now. It's horrible to feel this old, dry, weak."

Me:"So, we can swap with anybody, right?"

Chris:"Yeah, got anyone in mind?"

Me:"My brother got back home from college few days ago and his two friends are crashing at ours. They're kinda hot."

Chris:"Great, but you'll have to lure them out"

We stood in front of the mirror in our new college bodies. Admiring each other, flexing, enjoy the muscles, the facil hair of each other

Me:"By the way, where are your original bodies?"

Joe:"Oh, we stashed them in the school. They are tied up so there should be no problem there"

Me:"You know you're gonna have to let them go eventually?"

Chris:"But not right now. Guys, let's see whose dick is bigger!"

Story in inbox:

Hi i loooooove your story so much🥰

Could u write a story about two guys swapping body with their principal and teacher to teach their friend a lesson 🍆🍆🍆

[snail-migraine]

hello !! please delete / ignore if this validates your rules !! ^ __ ^

Platonic Yandere Malleus & child [name] . .

and [name] may or may not be a brat . . and probably failing school ( it’s college so no wonder !!)

preferably he / him prns but you can do whatever :] thank you !! there’s just not enough platonic yanderes in twstfandom . .

Of course! I'd be more than happy to this. The platonic yandere is a trope thats very unexplored, so I'd love to do one! Thanks for the Ask!

-

Anon-Yan💌.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

So since there were no specifics on who reader might be [Just that reader is Malleus's Child] let's just say that reader is Malleus's adopted child, but is still Fae. Just not a draconic fae.

Malleus as Yandere father is super-overprotective. The phrase "Helicopter Parent" Doesn't even begin to describe this man.

Maybe it was due all of the neglect he suffered through as a child, but this man absolutely refuse to give you any sort of privacy or space. Even as a teenager.

He just hates the idea of you feeling lonely so he spends practically every second he can with you, even at you're own expense.

Malleus is also petrified of losing you, Lillia is closing in on his own death, Silver never had very long compared to Malleus, and Sebek is half human, meaning he will never live as long as Malleus.

You're the only other family he has aside from his grandmother, he's not letting you go easily.

Malleus is one of those people who can't help but spoil their children, he'd hate to start yelling at his precious baby.

Maybe all that spoiling is how you got the way you are. Entitled and bratty.

When you first started going to school Malleus would get complaints from teachers on just how terrible you would be to the other kids.

But he refused to believe his precious baby was so awful. Especially when you started [fake] crying, saying that the teachers and other students here were mean to you.

"How dare you accuse my child of such terrible acts! My child would never do such a thing. They are nothing but a sweetheart. If I ever hear such a blatant lie fall from your lips ever again, the consequences will result in your immediate execution. Understand?"

Those poor teachers man.

Malleus babies you so much it isn't until Lillia, Silver, Sebek, and his grandmother hold an intervention that he'll start being a little hard on you.

But even then, if you start crying he'll back down.

It's ironic that somebody so strong breaks so easily at the slightest little swell of your tear-ducts.

Life goes on like this for a long time, with you causing trouble and Malleus brushing it off like it's nothing.

It isn't until you're a teenager and enrolled in Night Raven College that you finally cross the line.

"Mr. Draconia, I don't what it is but your child seems hellbent on becoming one of the worst students this school has ever seen!", Crowley exclaims, "Just last week they destroyed on of Diasomnia's numerous gargoyles! Even with my genius expertise, I can't keep them under control."

You keep your arms crossed and blow a peice of hair out of your face. 'That crow is still yapping.' You think to yourself, annoyed about having to listen to some lousy headmaster blab on and on about how you were sooooo terrible. As if the guy really thought that the Malleus Draconia would ever listen to his bullshit.

Dad always took your side, any second now that crow would finally shut his mouth and your dad would finally get you out of this dump.

Crowley jumps in his seat when a strike of thunder hits outside. 'There it is.' Dad always hated it when people accused you. The frown on your face lightens to a devious smirk.

"Ehem.", Crowley tries to regain his composure, "I believe if they're behavior doesn't change I'll have to expel them."

Thats when Malleus finally snaps, but he doesn't make it clear to you, or Crowley. But God is he pissed. He's spent all this time babying and treating you like the little royal he knows you should be, but look at you! Nothing but a troublemaker with no respect for anyone or anything around you. Has he really failed as father this badly?

You know what? It doesn't matter anymore, cause guess what? He's no longer going to baby you, you're almost an adult for sevens sake! And you've got the intelligence of two year old.

"That's fine, Headmaster Crowley." He says, trying to keep his demeanor calm despite the now raging storm outside. "I think it's best that from now on I start home-schooling them anyways."

His curls his fists into his lap.

"Thank you for your time, we'll be getting Their things now and removing them from campus. Have a good day Crowley." And with that he grabs you by the wrist and yanks you out of the room.

He didn't even let you grab your things, he just pulled you to the mirror and sent both of you back to Briar Valley. Once there, he continues pulling you around by your arm until he gets to one of old dungeon cells put high up in a tower. There he finally lets you go by throwing you in. When you try to ask why he's doing this he shushes you with his glare. Pointed and sharp.

He may be father, but he's not going to play nice.

He takes a deep breathe, a crackle of green thunder booms from outside the old brick walls of the castle, before he speaks up.

"You disappoint me. I have given you nothing but love and generosity in the hopes that you would turn out as a kind, loving, and respectful person."

You're at a loss for words as you try to say something, anything, but he glares at you once more and shushes you.

"You are a member of the Draconia Family. There are rules and guidelines we must follow, we can not go around acting like brats and destroying anything we like. And until you adhere to those simple rules, you will no longer be treated as a royal.", His tone was sharper than the deadliest knife. And his words made you more scared of your father than you'd ever been before.

"Your time will be spent either studying or cleaning. In your down time you will be making your food and no servant will be tending to you. Do you understand?" You could only nod dumbly as actual tears welled in your eyes. The sight made him grimace.

"..I love you my dear, but you are a Draconia. And you need to start acting like it." He said, almost as though he was trying to comfort you. Before turning on his heel and walking down the winding steps out of the tower.