#classmatic

[hiveswap]

my heavy smoker grandparents came over very briefly and the whole house smells like absolute shit now. So I (chronic tumblrina) got thinking.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[lktmemories]

[kiisaes]

midoriya-sensei!

[ketzzzel]

lunch

[sunlit-mess]

doodles from class earlier

[googledocsdyke]

many student bail funds have hit their goals and student organizers are asking people to redirect their money to gaza aid efforts and people whose lives are in immediate jeopardy. donate to help a young doctor from al-shifa hospital make it safely to egypt

[redstonedust]

i wish depriving yourself of food and sleep wasn't seen as fun and quirky. like listen man i get it, you tell people how little you survive on and they go "omg you're crazy how are you standing!!" and you feel cool and special. but it's not worth it dude. sleep more than 4 hours before class. have more for breakfast than a single coffee. please.

[kensatou]

LOOK AT THESE ABSOLUTE UNITS AT OSAKA AQUARIUM… round…………

also… plotting jailbreaks between bouts of sleep…

[allurilove]

Yandere Boyfriend x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: He cries, begging, use him!, gender neutral reader, he slips you some viagra, he becomes your maid—trying to get on your good graces, tie him up and blindfold him, doggystyle, he eats you out.

*Incase yall were wondering.. this is lol what I imagine yandere classmate/boyfriend looks like in his little uniform. This is the third post! And check out the first and second when you can! He is referred to as “your boyfriend” and this is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He comes clean about his yandere tendencies, and how he lied about pretty much everything. Your boyfriend will do anything for you to take him back again.

He always dreaded this moment. The moment when he had to tell you the truth, and he hoped you wouldn’t look at him any differently.

He told you about how much of a sexual deviant he is, and how he never got accepted into the university, and how he got you to live with him.

You kicked out your boyfriend when he came clean. You wanted space from him, but he took it as a break up and he started to panic as a jerk reaction. He came by to your door everyday, and you only gave him five minutes to explain himself, and then you shut the door in his face. And like clockwork, he came again. Over time, you were slowly getting the full picture.

He liked you since highschool, followed you around, sniffed your locker when he missed you, befriended your siblings to see your room, and he often jerked himself off when he thought about you.

He showed up with flowers, chocolates, chips, your favorite food from the nicest restaurants, and even stuffed animals that could sing. He then slid letters underneath your door, and then he slid pictures of him incase you werent understanding how much he needed you. He would send his nudes through the phone, but you blocked him.

He did not get what a break meant. He hated that you wanted zero contact, and that you did not want to meet with him until you were ready to talk again. So, one last time he approached your door again. He knocked on the door, you peeked through the peephole, and saw he wasn’t holding anything this time. He was just wearing a dark hoodie, sweats, and his airpods shoved into his ears.

You opened the door just enough to get a good look at him. He…looked embarrassed? His face pink and he nervously fiddled with his hair.

“Can I come in..?” Your boyfriend asked. You slowly let him inside and your eyes widens as he pulled off his clothes. “Just hear me out-“

When he got his joggers pulled off, he revealed a little maid outfit. He wore this black and white skirt or dress, some white sheer tights, and had some bows in his hair.

“I’ll become your maid! I’ll clean, cook, and… sleep with you heh, if t-that’s just what you want!” He stuttered in the end to cover up the fact that he’s been so pent up. He didn’t want you to think that he’s still a sexual deviant (you so nicely called him).

So, over the next couple of weeks he would come over and clean your apartment. He would whistle some sweet tunes, vacuum the place, and he would occasionally flash a bit more leg at you. You found it humorous that he was trying to seduce you. The skirt of his dress would accidentally would be a bit too high up, and you caught sight of his erection. And he would try to be too helpful. If you were stressed out, he told you that you could hop on his cock.

He was becoming desperate for attention, and paranoid that you would find someone else during this “break.” He came around more often to clean your house, and he would sneak into your bedroom to snoop in your drawers. When you two were still dating, you had some scandalous intimates, and he audibly sighed when he saw none of those.

So, you weren’t seeing anyone new. He smiled as he chopped up some carrots for the stew he was cooking, he wanted to feed you well and make you happy. He snuck some viagra into your drink, and he handed it to you.

If you were being honest… you didn’t think that your boyfriend was capable of all of those things he was confessing to. You weren’t going to say that he’s dumb… but he definitely tended to act like he needed your attention and help 24/7. So, it was a surprise to hear that he was actually a massive pervert and manipulator. You continue to sit there with an impassive look on your face, your arms crossed, and you watch as he cried and sobbed. The viagra hasn’t kicked in yet, and he was cursing at himself for not giving you more. He tried to plead his case and get you to change your mind about him.

“I didn’t mean too!” He wailed. “It just happened so suddenly! I-It was like my feelings for you appeared overnight!” That was technically half true.

You did wish on a shooting star for a boyfriend, and the universe provided. But it turned into an unhealthy obsession, it turned an innocent man to start stalking you, and craving to be yours.

He could not stop, the tears in his eyes kept coming and he was on his knees. He knew any sane person would leave him in a heartbeat, they would dump his ass, and maybe even get a restraining order on him.

“You’re just so amazing! I fell in love with you immediately. It was like an instant connection..!” He pouted, and he crawled over to you. “Are you going to leave me?”

You heavily debated on it. He’s insane, that was pretty clear, and you also took a note that you should probably clean your sheets… and lock your room just in case. Your head still tried to wrap around the fact that he bought a plane ticket, and up-rooted his whole life…for you.

You sighed, “I might-“

“Don’t.” He quickly said, his eyes darkening and they narrow at you briefly. All before he nervously chuckles when you didn’t like his tone, and he reached for you, “W-What I meant was—“

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You scoffed and you took a step back. His hand falling down after you rejected his touch.

His lip started to quiver, and he bends down to kiss at your feet. “What can I do, my love?”

“You know I’ll do anything.”

You don’t know why, but you started to feel your body heat up. His lips looked so kissable and soft, his cheeks pink and tear-stained. You eventually gave in. You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of seeing your body, so you unravel the ribbons in his hair, and cover his eyes. You used the other ribbons to tie his hands back.

He had to rely on his other senses to understand what you were doing. All he hears is a rustle of your clothes falling down to the floor, and you got him to lay on his back. You instructed him to open his mouth and he does so, his tongue sticking out in anticipation. He felt a presence nearby and he immediately tried to lick at it. His tongue feeling something warm and slick. He lifted his head up and buried himself into it, his tongue slipping inside to your core, and he probed for your g-spot. He pushed himself deeper, his neck straining to force his tongue deeper.

He wanted to use his hands to spread your legs further for him. He wanted to rip the blindfold off so he could see what he was doing, and make you feel better. He felt you pull away, and he latched his lips onto your heat to convince you to stay on his face. Your boyfriend huffed when his head fell back onto the floor, he licked his lips, and he felt you pull his boxers down. His cock sprung out— so eager for you to do whatever to it. A little dribble of cum spills out of his tip, and trailing down his shaft.

“fuhhhhck!” He let out a deep groan, your hand moving up and down his length as you put the condom on him. He wiggled his hips, imaging that it would be buried deep inside you. He could get off at the thought of you riding him.

You straddled his hips, his tip poking at your heat before you finally sank down on him. He bit his lip, his brows furrowed as you bounced up and down.

He still didn’t get to have sight privileges as you change positions. There was a ring of cum around his dick, and he began to harden again at your admiration. You praised him for doing so well, and you got onto all fours. He reached out for your hips, using his hands to guide himself behind you. He gently spreads your cheeks apart, and he glides right into you again.

He’s never heard of stopping at one time.

Once just wasn’t enough.

You let your boyfriend have a taste of you after months of shunning him. You had let him come to your graduation, but he had to stand from the distance, and he held a sign saying he “loves you.”

You were finally done with college and you were taking a right step in the direction, finding your own peace, and growing as a person.

But you just had to let him in.

Your boyfriend let out one final devastatingly brutal thrust—a sadistic smile tugging at his lips—and he knew he won you over when he heard you scream out his name.

Allure: Anywaaaaay! Idk if this will be the final, there might be another one where reader and him are engaged?? IDK don’t quote me.

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[shandzii]

have another silly

[lktmemories]

CARNAVIBE 2024

[temeyes]

to this day, they still don't believe him

[chocostrwberry]

Some concept ideas from the “To Be or Not to Be” episode!! 👑🐸🥀

I’ve never really used maroons combined with purple like this in any of my art before, so experimenting it with these screenshots was so fun!!! It didn’t turn out exactly as I had hoped but I still think it gets the aura I was reaching for :D

[yes-asil]

Rewatched the movie, heard the line and my brain immediately went "Chronic knee pain, alright."