#class with most dress code violations

[neapoliting]

i can't even explain why i liked reading this book so much but i did. it's not a swerve favorite unless nobody has heard of 70% of the characters

[sturnsblogs]

Babysitter

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

Word count- 1400

Warnings- Mattitude.

The office smells like stale coffee and stress. You shift uncomfortably in the chair across from the principal’s desk, still unsure why you were called in. You try to replay the last week in your head—no skipped classes, no fights, no dress code violations (this time).

“You’re one of our more socially engaged students,” Principal Martin says with a smile that immediately makes you suspicious. “You’re outgoing. Involved. Well-liked by your peers.”

Your eyes narrow. “Are you buttering me up for something?”

They chuckle, opening a folder and sliding a paper closer to them. “We have a student who’s… struggling. Matthew Sturniolo.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Matt?

“You mean the guy who ignores every group project, wears his hoodie over his head all day, and basically growls at anyone who looks at him?”

Principal Martin gives a patient smile. “He’s been disengaged. He’s failing most of his core classes. Teachers say he won’t participate. Won’t speak. He needs a… nudge.”

You stare. “And you want me to be the nudge?”

“We’d like you to… connect with him. Check in. Sit near him when you can. Maybe offer to work together in class. Just… be friendly. Help him come out of his shell.”

Your laugh comes out sharp. “You want me to babysit him.”

“We’re calling it ‘peer support.’ He needs someone approachable, and frankly—he’s not going to respond to a lecture or another meeting with a guidance counselor.”

You slump back in the chair. “He doesn’t even like people.”

“Which is exactly why we think you might be the right person. You’re persistent.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. A glowing recommendation for your file would shut your parents up for at least a week.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if he tells me to leave him alone, I’m blaming you.”

Principal Martin chuckles. “Noted.”

You’re about to stand up and leave when the door clicks open behind you.

“Ah—Matt,” Principal Martin says, standing a little too quickly. “Thanks for coming down.”

You turn, and there he is.

Matt Sturniolo.

Same messy curls, same headphones hanging around his neck, same silver chains catching the light when he steps in. He doesn’t make eye contact. Doesn’t say a word. Just slides into the chair as if it physically pains him to be here.

You watch him glance your way—just once—and then immediately look away like your presence offended him. His jaw tightens. His legs bounce. He slouches deep into the chair and picks at the rip in his jeans, ignoring the principal entirely.

“Matt,” Martin says slowly, like he’s speaking to a bomb, “this is Y/N. She’s agreed to help you out in a few of your classes. Group work, study support. Just someone to check in with.”

Matt scoffs under his breath. Loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snap to him. “Problem?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just tilts his head, eyes flickering toward your bold eyeshadow and glossy lips before he smirks—barely.

“Didn’t know this was a charity case,” he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know being rude was a personality.”

He shrugs. Doesn’t respond.

Principal Martin clears their throat, trying to salvage the awkward silence.

“Let’s give this a chance. Matt, you’re capable of a lot more than your grades show. Y/N is just here to help you—if you let her.”

Matt leans back in the chair and finally meets your eyes. Cold. Guarded. Judging.

“I don’t need help,” he says flatly. “Especially not from someone who looks like they came out of a makeup aisle fight.”

Your stomach twists—but you smile, because that’s what you’re trained to do.

“Awesome. This is going to be so fun,” you deadpan.

Martin forces another smile, clearly praying this doesn’t turn into a war.

“I’m sure once you two get to know each other, this will be a productive partnership.”

You and Matt exchange another look.

You’re both thinking the same thing:

No, it won’t.

You’re already planning how you’re going to avoid this kid as much as possible—pretend to help, fake your way through a few “study sessions,” and keep your life intact.

But of course, Principal Martin just has to make it worse.

“We’re going to help this arrangement run as smoothly as possible,” he says, smiling like they didn’t just trap you in a nightmare. “So I’ve spoken to your guidance counselor, and we’re working on adjusting your schedule to match Matt’s. That way, you’ll be in all the same classes and can sit together consistently.”

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

“What?”

“We’re switching a few of your periods,” Martin says, like it’s no big deal. “You’ll still meet your credit requirements, don’t worry. And we’ll make sure your extracurriculars aren’t affected—”

“No,” you cut in, shaking your head. “No, no, no. I have classes with all my friends. I’m in advanced lit. Honors chem. You can’t just move me around like that.”

Your voice cracks slightly, and you hate that it does.

Matt, still slouched in his seat, glances sideways at you. His expression doesn’t change much, but his mouth twitches into something cruel.

“They’re all fake anyway,” he says under his breath, just loud enough to make sure you hear it.

You whip your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, eyes still trained on the floor.

“Your friends. Your little fan club. Bet half of them talk about you the second you leave the room.”

Your stomach drops, anger mixing with something else—something closer to hurt. Because deep down, you’ve thought the same thing before.

Still, you fold your arms and scoff. “At least I have friends.”

He finally looks at you again. His eyes are sharp, unreadable. “Must be exhausting.”

Principal Martin clears his throat, breaking the tension before it explodes.

“I know this is a lot, but it’s temporary. Just until midterms. Think of it as… a challenge. A leadership opportunity.”

You sink back in the chair, jaw tight, throat burning. You want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Instead, you stare at the wall and say nothing.

Matt’s already put his headphones on.

You hold the new schedule in your hand like it’s a death certificate.

Period 1: English 12 – Room 108

Period 2: Pre-Calc – Room 203

Period 3: History – Room 115

…and so on.

Every single class—every one—now matches Matt Sturniolo’s.

You feel your stomach twist again as the bell rings for passing period. The hallway floods with voices, slamming lockers, and the faint scent of Axe body spray and cafeteria chicken nuggets.

You step out of the office just as Matt does. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t wait—just tugs his hoodie over his head, headphones back on, and starts walking toward first period like you don’t exist.

You stare at his back for a beat.

And then something in you snaps.

You lunge forward, grab his arm just before he disappears into the crowd. He stiffens immediately, twisting back like he’s ready to yank away—until he actually looks at you.

“Don’t walk in front of me like I’m not here,” you say, voice low but sharp. “I’m stuck doing this, so are you. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not gonna treat me like I’m nothing.”

His expression flickers—just for a second. He’s clearly surprised. You can tell. People don’t usually grab Matt. Or talk to him like that.

He blinks, lips parting slightly like he’s searching for a comeback. But you don’t give him time.

“Now let’s go,” you add, letting go of his sleeve. “We’re already late.”

You walk ahead a few steps, fully expecting him to ignore you again.

But he doesn’t.

After a pause, Matt adjusts the strap of his backpack and matches your pace—not beside you exactly, but not ahead either. Side-eyeing you every few seconds like he’s trying to figure out what your deal is.

Neither of you speaks on the walk to Room 108.

But when you reach the classroom and step inside, you hear him mutter—

“Didn’t think you’d actually have a spine.”

You slide into the seat next to his with a forced smile.

“Yeah? Didn’t think you’d be so damn dramatic.”

He snorts—quiet, but it’s there. The first crack in his wall.

The teacher starts class, but you can feel Matt still glancing at you every so often. Like you just became a glitch in the system he thought he had figured out.

A/N- I like the way i’m going with this.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[corroded-hellfire]

I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.

Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)

Words: 2.2k

Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations. 

Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.

Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.

“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”

He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.

“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations. 

“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.” 

You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.

“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.

“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.

“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show. 

Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.

“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides. 

Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.

Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run. 

With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.

“Mm?” he hums against your core.

“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”

Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.

Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”

Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat. 

The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.

Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.

“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”

“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.

Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.

The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.

He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.

“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.

You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.

Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.

The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.

“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.

“E-Eddie.”

“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”

“Eddie!”

The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.

“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.

“That’s my girl.”

He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips. 

Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact. 

Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.

“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.

The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.

Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.

“Eddie.”

“What is it, my love?”

“C-Close.”

Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”

Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink. 

“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.

“Please,” you beg.

“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”

The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.

“Eddie, yes.”

“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.

“Eddie!”

The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.

Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.

“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.

“So what?”

Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.

You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.

“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.

“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.

He pulls back to look at you again.

“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.

“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.

[magpiepills]

Doin’ Time

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Corrections Officer Joel Miller x f inmate reader

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: you’re a client of the criminal justice system and you have a run in with CO Miller

Warnings: SMUT! PWP, Dub Con, hand cuffs, unethical pairing, PIV, rough oral, masturbation, dirty talk, night stick, kinda mean Joel, stuff like that. It’s prison sex. Don’t read this if anything about it may be triggering to you. Barely edited, not beta’d.

A word from the author: ACAB. Cops are class traitors and policing is inherently racist. Still gonna write prison smut though.

“Inmate 4-2-0-6-9! Against the wall!” He bellowed across the yard where you sat with a few of the girls from your block. You rolled your eyes with a groan and slowly stood, dragging your feet across the yard to where he stood, arms crossed and face hard. Last thing you needed was to get maced.

C.O. Miller was the most senior guard, which wasn’t saying much considering the revolving door of the run-down prison where you were remanded for the next 32 months. Nevertheless, he was basically in charge of the way things worked in your block. He had a big, jangling key ring on his thick, black belt and you could hear him before you saw him coming. This was a blessing and a curse. It gave you time to hide your cell phone, but after four months in cell block D, the sound of his keys also created something of a Pavlovian response.

“Tits on the wall and hands behind your back,” he barked at you. “And feet apart. Come on sweetheart. I know you know how to spread those legs.”

He was behind you now, big palm pressing you roughly against the brick wall that surrounded the yard. You didn’t speak. You let your hips do the talking, tilting forward to arch your back while he patted you down, running his night stick up the inside of one leg and down the other, with a stop in between to prod at the apex of your thighs. He stood close behind you, sliding his hands greedily around your waist.

“Got anything in here I need to know about?” He breathed into your ear as he slid his hands up under your beige top. He palmed your tits from behind and rolled his hips against your ass so you could feel his straining erection.

He pinched your nipples and dragged his nose against the side of your neck before stepping back.

“No bra. That’s a dress code violation.”

You couldn’t stop the smirk on your face when he pulled your hands behind you, snapping on handcuffs and letting you stroke his cock over his uniform pants.

He pulled you away from the wall and directed you back into the building, away from the prying eyes of the other girls who got to enjoy the rest of their time in the sunshine.

Miller nodded at a few other guards as you passed, and you winked at your friends in their cells and exaggerated your strut as they whistled and whooped when they saw who was walking you to ad-seg. It earned you a rough shake. “Knock it off.” He ordered. He’s no fun.

By the time you got to the heavy, windowless door leading to the familiar, bare cell known as “the hole” your pussy was slick and throbbing in anticipation.

He unlocked the door, took off the cuffs, and shoved you inside, leaving you alone in the stuffy six by nine room. You could hear the lock being turned, and footsteps receding. You waited and listened, still soaking your standard issue pants with your wet pussy.

You got tired of waiting. He hadn’t told you how long you were going to be in here, so you laid on the thin mattress on the floor and slipped your hand under your waistband. It was really the only reasonable way to pass the time when you were sent to the hole.

You stroked over your lips, feeling the mess you made, dipping your middle finger to collect more. You circled your clit, in no hurry because you had nothing but time. You thought of Crissy, your cellmate with the great tits. You thought of your last boyfriend, who could make you come like magic but who had probably narc’d on you. You thought of C.O. Miller. You thought of that night stick of his. You even thought of Tim.

Before you could get yourself off, the lock disengaged and the door creaked open once more. CO Miller stood in the doorway, taking up the whole of it with his imposing body and his serious face.

“You’re just in time,” you cooed teasingly.

“Shut up. Hands behind your back. Turn around,” his voice is low and gruff, and if he wasn’t hard as a rock you might think he was actually mad. He cuffed you again and shoved you against the cold concrete wall of your cell. He kissed your neck, the tenderness a stark contrast to the rough way he was treating you. He crowds you against the wall, covering your body with his. “You know I could write you a shot for rubbin’ one out in here. Got the whole room smellin’ like pussy.” His voice is husky and low. He’s teasing, you think. Masturbating isn’t really an infraction is it? You don’t have time to ask. His hand is shoved down the back of your baggy pants and into your soaked, prison-issue cotton underwear.

You wished you had some of your own panties to wear for him. You wish he could see you like you are when you’re not in this place. His eyes might bug out if he saw your sundresses and your lacy panties. Your strappy sandals, your makeup, your manicures. He doesn’t see it though. He sees a criminal. He sees someone he can take from. And you see someone who can make your stay a little more comfortable if you play it right.

You tilt your hips, rubbing your pussy against his thick fingers, and for a moment he lets you, humming into your hair. “Desperate little pussy. What’s the matter? None of the other girls eat pussy? You need it so bad you’ll let me at it?” You whine at the question, the vulgarity. The other girls do eat pussy. Some are really good at it, too. But as awful as Miller is, you just want him. He’s big and rugged and he’d be exactly your type outside of prison. You like your men a little older- greying, laugh lines, softer bellies, but still strong. He’s so handsome. His eyes are so dark, his lips are so soft looking, he’s got a nose with the most beautiful gentle curve. He has the sort of looks that belong in movies, not going to waste in a women’s prison.

He presses firmly against your wet lips with his whole hand, covering his palm and fingers in your wetness before shoving two fingers in without warning. It makes you gasp, makes you buck against him, seeking more. He flexes his wrist, fucking you on his fingers. It’s not enough, you can’t come like this, but the feeling of being stretched is incredible. “More,” you whine, “more please.”

“Yeah? You need more? Two big fingers ain’t enough?” You shake your head shyly, unable to look at his face, still unsure of the dynamic. You hear the rustle of his belt, of leather against fabric, your mouth waters and your cunt clenches. You know he’s big. The way he walks, the way he talks, the look in his eyes, they tell you he’s hung even if you hadn’t felt for yourself.

Your pants are pulled down to your ankles, along with your underwear. You can feel your slick smear down your thighs. You don’t dare speak, you just arch your back, ready to take him, ravenous for his cock. his warm hand pressed into your back, your chest against the wall again, and you stifle a whimper but what you feel prodding against your weeping entrance isn’t the fat, hot cock head you had hoped for. It was cold and hard and heavy, you recognized it immediately.

CO Miller slid the tip of it over your wet pussy lips, twisting it to coat the surface in shiny wetness, smirking when you tried to grind down onto it. Without warning or sentiment, Joel nudged his night stick inside you. It seemed made for the purpose, rounded at the end, phallic. You wondered how many women he’d fucked with it. It gave you a fucked up thrill. You rolled your hips, taking it deeper. “Yeah. Look at you. Fucking a night stick. Been without dick too long, huh?”

You nodded pathetically and looked at him from the corner of your eye, his eyes were dark and his hand was inside his unfastened pants, stroking himself slowly. He matched the tempo of his fist to the thrust of his night stick inside you. You moaned for him, you saw him snarl as he watched with narrowed eyes as his weapon slid in and out, coved in your slick. He moved it slowly, watching the way your delicate skin stretched around it.

And then it was gone. Pulled free and discarded, clattering on the floor. In an instant his cock was out and hanging between you, thick, throbbing, precum leaking from the blunt head. It was better than you imagined, and you’d imagined it a lot. He spun you around and shoved you down to your knees. You nearly lost your balance, unable to steady yourself with your hands behind your back. He caught your shoulder and steadied you, petting your hair and letting his hands roam over your cheeks and down your neck, thumb brushing over your lips.

“Open up. Wide. Come on.”

You relaxed your jaw as best you could and stuck out your tongue to lick at the tip of his cock. His precum was salty and warm on your tongue. He let you taste him, licking around his thick head messily, teasing for as long as he would let you. It wasn’t long. He held your head and guided himself inside, slow and steady until he got to the back of your throat, and then just a bit further before backing out. You focused on breathing, in and out through your nose when it wasn’t pressed into the rough hair above his cock. Above you he moaned. A deep, warbling sound of pleasure that made you gush.

You turned your eyes up to try to meet his, but they were shut tight. His head lolled back and forth as he fucked your face. His movements became shorter and rougher, your mouth watered, ready to swallow his load, to prove your value to him, to earn his favor. And if you got off on it too, well, all the better.

There was no chance. Instead of coming down your throat, he pulled out suddenly, smearing drool onto your cheek. “Lay down. There, on the mattress.”

You moved awkwardly with your hands behind your back and your ankles basically manacled in your pants. You walked on your knees and laid on your back, legs together in a futile attempt at modesty. Of course it didn’t matter, he was already there, pushing them apart, spreading them wide and taking a gluttonously long look at your wet sex. You throbbed so hard you thought he could surely see.

“Jesus Christ. Look at that. You always get this wet from sucking dick? You’re dripping all over the place.”

He pulled one bare foot and then the other from your pants, and pumped his cock in his thick fist while he taunted you, spitting into his hand for one last stroke before lining himself up with your begging hole.

“Just yours,” you lied, fawning over him until he chased the air out of you with the heft of his cock. Even when he stretched you beforehand, he was tremendous. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, or to compliment him any more. He bore into you with his weight and strength, driving you into the floor. The world went fuzzy and dim, his deep voice keeping you afloat.

“Little prison pussy can’t handle some dick? Huh? Get a little cock in ya and you can’t think straight any more?”

Miller held your face in one hand, squeezing your cheeks together until your lips parted. He kissed your chin, biting it without conviction, and spat onto your tongue before kissing you, all messy, his tongue tasting yours. You pant and moan for him, trying hard to lift your hips for more even as he pounded into you.

When you wrapped your legs around his waist he sat up, as if suddenly aware that what he’s doing is wrong.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned, and repositioned you.

Miller turned you half onto your side and pushed back into you. He held your still handcuffed wrists in one hand and squeezed the soft fat of your ass in the other while using your body,

“Fuck me, that’s a tight little pussy,” he gritted out, straddling your right thigh while the other was pushed up. He used you like a toy. He pushed and pulled you as he pleased. Your orgasm built slowly without any direct touch on your clit, throbbing and firm, all but forgotten by the man who filled your cunt completely.

Joel loved watching the shiny wet slide of his cock in and out of your pussy. Your body gripped and pulled him, soaked him and squeezed him just right. His eyes flitted from where he drove into you to your tits, bouncing with each thrust and then back.

Your release was like a ripple spreading outward from your center. It pulsed and took control of your body. Your eyes lost focus, your back arched, and you clenched hard on CO Miller’s cock.

His orgasm hit him hard and fast, like a lightning bolt through his body. The rhythmic beat of your impossibly tight pussy pulled it from him. There was barely time for him to pull out and rut his hot, wet cock against your ass, spilling his cum over your body.

He was finished with you. He wiped his cum from you body with a handkerchief. He was gentle, but sure not to leave a trace behind. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and took a long last look at your slick, used sex before standing you up to right your pants.

You watched him as he went through these motions, devoid of sentiment or warmth.

“Well, Miller? Do I get off for good behavior?”

It earned you a crooked half smile that flashed across this scruffy face before disappearing again.

“You get a shower.”

It wasn’t your usual shower time but you didn’t protest. You didn’t ask if you’d still get your shower tomorrow. Just walked obediently in front of him, still floaty from your release. He took you back down an empty corridor, past disused units, what used to be a library, to a shower room that was normally off limits, used by the guards as a sort of hangout, a break room separate from the main break room.

There, waiting with knees spread wide, and an eager smile, was CO Morales.

“Morales is gonna help ya with that shower. Don’t give him any trouble, or I’ll hear about it.”

Your mouth dropped as the younger man came to stand in front of you, taking your arm and pulling you closer to him.

“Broke her in for you,” CO Miller patted your ass as he addressed the new officer. The clear implication sent a fresh trickle of wetness from your slit.

“And next time,” he warned, “put on your bra. Won’t be so nice next time.”

[avatarmerida]

So Dana tweeted this and I’m not sure what to label this AU but basically Willow is a baddie skating in the halls and Hunter is a student council member who is always on her case. Do they have magic? Idk. Am I obsessed? Yuh. Also based on this art and this art by @turquoisespace35 this art by @smallpapers and also this art by @gravityfying. Anyway, here’s some huntlow fluff thanks for the inspiration guys! Hope ya like it!

———

Hunter was simply minding his own business, trying to identify the bird in the tree above him and having a rather pleasant afternoon as he tried to destress from his eventful day. To be fair, every day was eventful for him. As a student council member and top of his class, he was responsible for making sure Hexside' reputation stayed pristine. This had earned him a rather unfavorable reputation himself. He was a legacy, he had high expectations, so he needed to do everything in his power to bring everyone to his level. In his mind, he was strict but fair. But the students saw him as a glorified hall monitor.

Which is why he always walked home alone.

As he admired the red bird that seemed to be calling out to him, the pleasant sound of silence was interrupted by a panicky echo.

“Look out!” came a familiar voice, but before Hunter could attempt to ‘look out’ as the voice had advised, his world went blurry and the next thing he knew he was pinned against the tree. When he regained focus, having a few choice words at the ready, he was stunned to find the culprit was one of his classmates.

His rebellious classmate with the most dress code violations. His resilient classmate who always had holes in her stocking and scars and bruises on her knees from skidding and falling so often. His carefree classmate who was the reason he carried a first aid kit with him. His breathtaking classmate whose bright peridot eyes somehow managed to shine through the yellow tint of her safety goggles. His classmate who was… a classmate, and nothing more.

Does she skate everywhere? He thought, knowing her skates were the cause of their… position. Skating in the hall was one thing, but this path was all downhill; even a pro would have a hard time stopping.

“Hunter! Hi! What are you doing here?” Willow casually asked the boy she currently had pinned against a tree, her hands resting naturally on his chest. Even with the height her skates gave her, he was still so much taller than her.

“Well I… I have a life outside of school, you know,” he replied, somewhat lying, his face positively beet red. Her skates made her so much taller, but she had never been this close to him. She had flipped back her signature yellow shades to see him better, apparently he was so close that he was in focus without them.

“I know,” she said plainly. “I just thought you had that big presentation today.”

“Oh that, no that’s tomorrow.” he said, his composure returning at the mention of business. “Really? Cause I’m pretty sure that’s where Amity is,” said Willow, backing up to give him space. “I thought it was the 4th.”

“It is,” he said. “On Wednesday.”

“No, Hunter today is the 4th,” said Willow.

“Wh- a-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t you remember when you wrote me up on Friday? You said ‘this is the last one of the month’ because the next day was the first and that was Saturday, so then Sunday was the second and then yesterday-.”

“Oh no,” he said softly, the color draining from his face as he realized she was right. His breathing became faster. “Oh no, oh no, oh no! H-how did I mess this up?’

“Hey, it’s okay! It doesn’t start until 4 so you-.”

“It’s almost 3:45 and the school is at least a 35 minute walk,” said Hunter, beginning to spiral. “A-and we always start right on time and I’m supposed to go first and if I don’t go then my proposal won’t be considered and if my proposal isn’t considered then that means I’ve spent weeks preparing for nothing and not to mention if my uncle hears that I-.”

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey,” said Willow, waving her hands in front of his eyes to get him to snap out of it. She placed her hands on his shoulders to direct his focus on her. “Just breathe, okay? Look at me and breathe. Count with me 1,2,3 in and 1,2,3, out. In and out.”

She motioned him to follow as she counted with her fingers, not removing her eyes from his until he felt safe to follow her instructions. Hunter would normally feel silly but it actually helped him. He focused on Willow and while his anxieties did not disappear, they definitely felt less heavy.

“Good,” Willow said gently when she could tell his heart was no longer about to explode. “Now, let’s think of a solution, okay? There’s always a way to help. Now, you’re right; the school is about a 35 minute walk from here-.”

“I know, it’s useless to even think that-.”

“-but I bet we can cut that in half on skates,” she finished with a smile.

Hunter looked at her like she was insane, like there was a punchline coming, but she remained unmoved. She was serious.

“What? Are you gonna carry me to the school on your skates? Y-you’re just gonna scoop me in your arms, and whisk me away as we speed off together into the sunset like you’re some kind of beautiful knight who reached me o-or something? Is that what you’re saying?” The way Hunter said it made it seem like he didn’t believe it was possible but also that he had had this impossible thought before. More than once. He didn’t seem against it.

“Um, not quite,” she smiled. She turned to remove her backpack, a blush gracing her cheeks (though it was nothing compared to the one Hunter currently wore) as she pulled her solution from her knapsack.

“You brought extra roller skates?” Hunter said, somehow not really supposed.

“I literally go nowhere without them!” Willow exclaimed in a bright, bubbly one, as she handed them to him. “They’re my dad’s old pair and I was gonna give them to Gus but they’re too big, but they should fit you! How lucky is that?”

“What, you expect me to do the presentation in roller skates? That’s worse than not showing up at all!”

“No, we can put your shoes in my bag and you can change when you get there,” she said simply. “We can totally get you there in time, I know a short cut.”

She seemed so sure, so genuine, so sweet. Hunter found it hard to keep up appearances as he let out a dramatic sigh as he snatched her skates from her and he leaned against the tree to start putting them on.

“Well, don’t think this means I’m gonna stop writing you up,” said Hunter as he carefully slipped off his shoes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she smiled, gently rolling her eyes endearingly as she went to place his shoes in her bag. She fought back a grin when she noticed the red cartoon birds that decorated his socks, but she kept that to herself.

He watched him struggle with the laces for a moment, they were loose on his ankles but the edges were frayed and were hard to get through the holes on the very top. She leaned down to help him, and when their fingers touched briefly Hunter pulled his hands back like he had just touched lava. Willow said nothing, knowing how prideful he was as she felt his eyes on her as she wordlessly tightened his laces.

She couldn’t help but hope that he was speechless the way she had been the day she had fallen in the hallway. It was the usual game, she was teasing him beckoning him to chase her to give her the citation in person and she had been overzealous and lost her balance skating backwards. But he didn’t taunt her or laugh, but rather rushed to her side riddled with concern. She remembered how there were no words in her head as she watched him drop the cold persona that she had long suspected was an act to lecture her on safety, not because it was a rule or because he wanted to say “I told you so” but because he cared about her.

Willow suspected he wasn’t used to someone caring about him the same way.

“I know you’re just doing this so you can tell everyone how uncoordinated I am,” he muttered after a minute, not knowing how to maneuver the silence. He didn’t really believe Willow would be so ruthless, he was just embarrassed that he needed saving.

“What?” said Willow, genuinely surprised by his harsh tone. It wasn’t his usual harsh tone, it had a twinge of hurt beneath it.

“Well, why else would you be so nice to me?” He asked as she finished the bow. “No one likes me.”

Willow giggled.

“What?” asked Hunter, not used to being laughed at in a way that didn’t feel condescending.

“Boscha’s always saying I’m no one,” she said, rising to her feet. “So maybe I’m the perfect person to like you.”

“Don’t say that!” He said sternly, as he quickly stood up as well, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “You’re not no one.”

He said it with such conviction and anger, as though the idea of her believing she was any less than she was inspired a fury in him unmatched by any uniform infraction or social injustice. He didn’t need to add “because” or “to me” because he felt it was so obvious. She was too vibrant and kind and strong to be no one.

As she searched her mind for a response, she saw Hunter begin to lose his balance and quickly leaned forward to catch him.

“I’m guessing you’re not much of a skater?” she asked lightly, not knowing what else to say.

“I uh don’t have much time for leisure or recreational activities,” he said, clearing his throat as he was overly aware of her hands on him, one on his back and the other gently on his chest. It was difficult to remain professional in such a stance, but if anyone could try it was him.

“Well, consider this a crash course,” she teased.

“What?”

“Oh no, sorry,” she laughed nervously. “We’re not gonna crash. Well, probably not. Well… we’re gonna try.”

“Oh this is a bad idea,” said Hunter, his legs shaking.

“Hey, don’t worry,” she said, helping him regain his balance until he stood by himself. She held out her hand to him and gave him a sweet smile. “I won’t let you fall.”

He carefully took it and allowed her to lead him.

She did not seem opposed in the slightest to be holding his hand, to be seen holding his hand. He mainly focused on keeping his skates facing forward and not knocking into each other, but Willow had a natural balance. He knew it came from practice, that if he wasn’t here holding her back she’d be doing elaborate spins and jumps, but still he felt safe beside her. If he wasn’t in a rush, he felt like he could do this forever.

He just wished he had a helmet.

As they descended down the bumpy street, there was so much for Hunter to be nervous about: falling on his face, being late to his presentation, showing up to his predation with a face that had clearly been fallen on, but the most pressing matter at the moment was whether or not the stunning girl holding his hand could feel how sweaty it was. His heart was racing but not from the cardio. It was a good thing Willow knew where they were going because his eyes certainly were not on the path ahead of them.

This was the longest silence that had ever passed between them, Willow wasn’t sure what to make of it. She had seen Hunter concerned before, but these nerves were new. She tried to lighten the mood.

“These are your fault, you know.” She said, adopting her normal tone as seen in their hallway encounters.

“What?”

“My rollerskates.”

“What? Me? How? I never-.”

“Do you remember my most common infraction before you were always hounding me about my skates?”

“Tardiness,” he said without hesitation.

She smiled, wondering if he remembered everyone’s violations so quickly. “Yeah, I was always running late because Bocha needed to make sure she tormented me before first period.”

“Ms. Park, I assure you if I had known that was the reason I would’ve handled the situation with more-.”

“I know,” she said simply. “But still, you said something once that gave me an idea. I didn’t tell you that Boscha was the reason, I just said I kept getting lost and you said ‘well then, find another way.’ So I did.”

“You heard that and got ‘rollerskate everywhere?’”

“Okay, I might’ve put my own spin on it,” she giggled as they turned a corner, and she felt his grip tighten . “But it worked, didn’t it? I haven’t been late since.”

“Yes but roller skates are still against school safety and dress codes,” Hunter pointed out.

“But they get me there,” she said simply. “And they got me off Boscha’s radar and onto yours.”

He looked at her with wide, worried eyes. “Miss Park, I hope you’re not suggesting that I am on a level with Boscha,” he said seriously and another smile tugged at Willow’s lips as she couldn’t help but notice the disgusted way he said Boscha’s name. How he didn’t even bother to grace her with formality. “I know I may be strict, but I hope you know I would never want to make you feel how she makes you feel. I know she used to sit on the council, but If I ever-.”

“No, no nothing like that,” she laughed. “It’s just, I much prefer being on your radar is all I mean.”

“Oh.” Was all he could say. It still didn’t add up, she liked being in trouble? “Huh.”

Willow saw and understood his confusion. “You’re really into your position on the student council,” she said as though he was unaware. “Sometimes it feels like breaking the rules is the only way I get to talk to you.”

Did she know how every morning he held his breath, worried today was the day she changed her ways? That he wouldn’t feel her breeze as she zoomed by him in the hall, her braids coming undone as she maneuvered through other students like a maze? She had never injured anyone (besides herself) and she technically wasn’t running and hadn’t damaged any school property, but Hunter had scoured the handbook for something to say about it. Because he just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

“And you… like talking to… me?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said simply. No hesitation, no eye rolling, no sarcasm. How could that be true? “Ya know, you’re not as uptight as you want everyone to believe you are. I think you’re secretly a big sweetheart.”

“Me?” He scoffed, he had certainly never been called that before. Not even ironically. “How am I sweet? I write you up every day!”

His voice shook as they quickly moved to avoid a pot hole but Willow never let go of his hand.

“Well, yeah but,” Willow couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, you make a big show of writing me up and threatening me with detention but you never actually follow through.”

“What? I-I have! I mean, I must have at least once er-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “You always say you could but you never do.”

“Well, t-that’s because it goes straight on your permanent record.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, obviously unconvinced. She was pretty sure those didn’t even exist. She also knew it wasn’t because he didn’t have the power to, because he sent Boscha to detention literally all the time.

She had her theories, but right now probably wasn’t the right time to voice them.

“I… well, the thing is I…” he offered her a soft look as he tried to find the words. Something in his eyes made her think maybe he was about to confirm her theories. “I think I actually might…”

But before he could finish, the hill became too steep and Hunter promptly lost his balance. He unwillingly surrendered Willow’s hand as his arms flailed to his sides trying to save him from tumbling forward. Willow rolled beside him, keeping her eyes on him as she tried to grab his hand again. When she realized she couldn’t, she improvised and reached out to grab in an embrace, trapping his arms at his side as she clung to him tightly. They continued to skate down the hill at increasing speed as Willow tried to ease gently into the breaks so they wouldn’t go flying.

Finally, they reached flat land and when they did Hunter arrived deeper in Willow’s embrace, his cheek pressed firmly against hers as she shut her eyes, focused on keeping them safe. All he could focus on was how close they were. She lifted him off the ground, not knowing her own strength and all he could do was just be lifted by her.

Their faces were touching, oh Titan their faces were touching!

He swore he wasn’t breathing, he swore time stood still as he floated in some parking lot being held tightly by Willow Park. He could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, a collection of jasmine and mango.

“You okay?” She asked, opening one eye to make sure no damage had come to him.

“Never better.” He squeaked. He wondered if he even weighed anything to her.

“We made it,” she declared gleefully, and he was so close he could feel the smile on her face. He was so lost in the euphoria of being so close to her he had totally forgotten the reason for it. Then his eyes registered where they were.

And in record time too.

“We made it,” he breathed as she set him down. How had he ever doubted her?

“Not quite yet,” she said as she took his hand and led him once again. “C’mon!”

They slid through the side entrance and something about it made Hunter feel oddly… giddy. Willow sped ahead of him like a bullet, her brow furrowed in determination as she raced against the clock.

“Move aside!” She announced to a few lingering students walking through the halls. “Precious cargo, coming though!”

He laughed, in spite of himself, feeling like he was in a dream. Being with her in the hall now instead of against her felt… right. This was how she saw the world: fast, exciting, scary. Normally he was just a mere star she passed by, close for only a brief moment before her orbit spun her elsewhere. But now he was fully caught in her gravity, hoping to be a moon, a sun, a comet; anything that followed her closely. Anything she’d let him be.

All too soon, they were outside the classroom where Hunter was to give his presentation. Willow could see they were still setting up and Hunter would get his chance to do his presentation.

“We did it!” She declared victoriously, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We did-.” She looked up at him in excitement but was taken back when he didn’t share her elatement. Instead, his focus was on her. He was looking at her like she was some precious jewel he had been searching for his whole life. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face or-.?”

“You’re amazing,” he said like the phrase took all the air in his lungs.

She gave a tiny chuckle as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t what she had been expecting to hear but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Well hey, don’t waste all your charm on me, student council,” she teased. “Getting here was the easy part, you still have a speech to give.”

“Right,” he said with a rare smile. Willow wondered why he didn’t smile more, he had such a pretty smile. “Anyway, thanks for all your help. I… really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she said, and Hunter swore a rosey halo surrounded her. As he was admiring just how picturesque she was, a mischievous smile crept onto her face, as she allowed her wheels to bring her closer to him. “Um, excuse me, student council member Wittebane, but wearing roller skates in the hallway is against school policy, in case you weren’t aware.”

He offered her a shy, playful smile, running his hand through his hair as he leaned against the lockers, absentmindedly sending a chill up Willow’s spine. She caught him off guard and for a moment he was a little silly. Like he felt safe enough to be.

“Well, I guess I have to make an exemption today,” he said, his voice possessing a lighter tone that Willow was certain few people had ever heard. She liked it. She watched him quickly sink to the ground as he began to undo the laces on the skates as she handed him his shoes from her bag.

“Tomorrow morning though, no roller skating in the hallways,” he said, mocking himself as he wagged his finger at her. They both knew she wouldn't listen.

“But what if I’m running late?” She said innocently as she helped him back onto his feet once he had returned to his shiny dress shoes. “I have classes on opposite sides of the school, how else am I supposed to get there in time?”

“Well uh, I’m sure I could assist somehow,” he said, clearing his throat. He owed her one after all. “I could get you a special hall pass or help you plan a route or-.”

“Maybe you should start walking me to class,” she suggested.

“As punishment?”

She shrugged. “If you wanna call it that,” she said, brushing some invisible lint off of his shoulder. “Here, lemme fix your tie. Can’t have you beating my record for dress code violations, now can we?” She made sure he didn’t reflect the journey too much, adjusting his pin as well. Even after all that, he still managed to look so pristine. Maybe it was his posture, or his height, or the sharp definition of his jawline but his demeanor just seemed like it was permanently studious. Like he had a shell that extended to his heart. Like the cracks in his composure could only be seen up close and Willow wanted more than anything to have them memorized. Willow had caught glimpses of these cracks before, when she made a joke that caught him off guard and summoned a smile or dared him to joke back before following up with policy and procedure. These cracks didn’t make him foolish or fragile as she knew he worried they did, no: they made him shine.

The classroom was becoming louder as Amity tried to gain control so they could start and Hunter knew they’d be starting soon. But all he wanted to do was watch her fuss over his tie like she just wanted an excuse to be close to him.

“Willow, I-,” he started and her eyes instantly darted up to him. He then realized that that may have been the first time he had used her first name. He said it so gently, like he was worried he wasn’t worthy of it. She looked at him with wide eyes, like she hoped he’d say it again.

“Yeah?”

“I uh… I guess better head inside,” Hunter said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. Both because he didn’t want to leave and because that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“Guess you’d better,” she echoed, though she did not release him.

“But thank you again,” he said. “For helping me, for getting me here. No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have plenty of experience with being a no one, huh?” She said coyly. She knew he was about to protest, but before he had the chance to, she rose up and slyly pressed a quick kiss to his check. “Good luck, Mr. Student Council,” she whispered with a playful wink, doing one more small spin before skating away, leaving him stunned by the lockers.

She knew she had left a faint lipstick mark on his face, and from the corner of her eyes she noticed that he could not bring himself to wipe it off before finally heading inside.

Must not be a dress code violation, she thought to herself. Good to know.

[inqorporeal]

The weirdest thing about being an older student is that younger ones routinely come to you to complain about shit. Like, I know that's bugging ya but I have 0 authority here. Yeah I'm on the student council but that makes me basically a union representative for you with the staff here. The staff call all the shots; I'm just a moderator.

Most of the other students are fresh out of high school or in their early 20s -- roughly half my age -- and thus a lot of them haven't yet learned to compartmentalize. The things other people do largely are not your problem or your business; if it's not directly affecting you (no, unpleasant BO doesn't count; it's only if they're wearing cologne/perfume/spray that's giving you an allergic reaction that it matters) then it's neither your circus nor your monkeys. I could tell that other student to wear deodorant for you, sure, but in all honesty I do not have the right to do that. Okay, they're not wearing a bra; dress code is a campus director issue. If the campus director hasn't done anything about that, then it's not a dress code violation. And still not your monkey. Okay, you don't like that student. You don't have to be friends with them. This is a one-year trade school; it's not the prison of general primary education facilities. I'm certain there's a number of students who don't like me there; there's certainly a few I dislike, but nobody can tell. Because we don't have to like each other; just be civil, don't fuck with each other's careers, and you'll be done with class before you know it. You never have to see them ever again.

Why. Why why why are people so freakishly concerned with what others are doing? We had two students actually fucking fighting on Thursday. Other people are not! That! Important! If I was a member of the staff, it would be completely different. But I'm a student, too; I just wanna get my 1500 hours and my license and get back to working. Petty personal issues are so unimportant in the larger scheme of things. Fuck. I'm gonna have a talk with the student support advisor on monday because this is getting ridiculous.

[mintyisms]

Education Related Headcanons

What is your muse's relationship to education in general? Was their experience overall positive or negative?

Did your muse attend public or private school? Or some combination? Were they homeschooled? Or something completely different?

What's the highest level of education your muse has attained? Do they want to continue in higher education?

What was your muse's favorite school lunch? Least favorite? Were they a cold lunch or hot lunch kid?

Are there any field trips your muse fondly remembers? Do they have any horror stories?

What sort of things did your muse get into during recess? Sports? Hanging out on the monkey bars? Clapping erasers because they got held back for detention?

Who was your muse's favorite teacher and why? Least favorite?

Did your muse get bullied in school? What for and by who? How did they handle it?

How much of a role did technology play in your muse's education?

What was your muse's best and/or favorite class? Worst and/or least favorite class? Why?

Was your muse part of a clique or friend group or were they more of a loner? How many friends did they have?

Did your muse participate in extracurricular activities? If so, what were they? If not, why not? Did they want to?

Is there a class your muse regrets not taking while in school?

If your muse was called to the principal's office, would it most likely be for a good reason or a bad reason?

How did your muse get to school? Bus? Carpool? Walking? Did they stay on campus?

Did your muse have to deal with strict dress codes? Did they ever get in trouble for a dress code violation? Was it a valid issue?

How much time did your muse spend studying? Did they grasp lessons easily or did they struggle?

If your muse had to choose between studying academics, arts, or athletics, which would they choose?

Did your muse ever skip school? How often? Were they caught? What sort of punishment did they face?

Did your muse ever receive a superlative ("most likely to") award in the yearbook? If not, what award would they have been lock for?

[neo-shitty]

pairing. itadori yuuji x gender-neutral reader genre. fluff, university!au, yuuji as *that* friendly classmate warnings. none, just rusty writing word count. 0.5k notes. not my best but it was the only dispensable work in my drafts. just honestly testing the waters for posting anime writing? hello, hi? :D

you don’t think you’ve ever been this close to yuuji since your professor sat him next to you in class; a desperate last-ditch attempt to quiet him down. it’s ultimately pointless when he only made the most out of the new place he’d been slotted into. making friends with the shadows in the far side of the room was too easy for him, less a punishment than an opportunity to expand his circle. in the first hour you spent as seatmates, he already knew you better than everyone else in the room combined—even when he’d been around for a lesser time.

you’ve always watched yuuji from afar but at times the distance narrowed and he becomes aware of it. he finds your eye in the middle of a game once, a happenstance when he was catching his breath, the ball dribbling under someone else’s palm. he looked up to the second floor, catching you staring down at him. you cheered him on a little because they were winning for a while until they weren’t. yuuji smiled back at you that day, though unable to mask his exhaustion.

you once walked into campus together until he was barred by security. you could’ve gone on and walked your way to the lecture hall alone but you caught him glancing at you as he scribbled away on a slip, almost imploring that you’d wait up even just for a little bit. “what happened?” you asked when he finally joined you. he answered, “dress code violation.” the silver stud that once glinted off his earlobe now missing.

today, he found himself in the wrong circle of friends because his own crowd disappeared elsewhere. somewhere behind you, he rambled about the exam you just took—one you both probably failed but chose to no longer linger on. or at least you did. you didn’t take yuuji to be the type of mull over wrong answers but there he was, complaining all the way down the flight of stairs. “get over it,” you said, rather jokingly, “there’s nothing we can do about it anymore.”

then you heard his footfalls closer to you, as if your acknowledgment of his presence was a sign he was waiting for to close the distance between the both of you. he reached the last step of the staircase right when you did, casually wrapping an arm around you, his hand draped over your left shoulder. the gesture is innocent and he’s oblivious of the frenzy the act put you into internally. you don’t remember the time anyone has been this close to you. there is warmth where his body touches yours, even through the fabric of your clothes and you wished to stay here—caged in a protective half-embrace. 

you wanted to stop him where he stood, turn him around to face you and wrap your own arms around him. maybe you’ll be safe here, your head against his chest and your arms lazily holding each other, just as how you imagined it to be. but the hallway is short and he reached his stop. he lets you go, his arm slowly finding its way back to its place beside his torso. yuuji was gone as soon as he came, the warmth of his touch fading along with him, waving goodbye as he disappeared behind the door to his next class. you looked forward to seeing him again tomorrow.

© neo-shitty, 2023

[dr1diot]

catching feelings

pairing: iura shuu x fem!reader

synopsis: iura shuu had never viewed you as anything but a person to be feared—to be avoided. after a certain incident, however, his views begin to change.

it was strange, you thought to yourself. there was no reason to get mixed up with the obnoxious, loud-mouthed iura.

you were a model student—near-flawless grades, an active member of the student council, uniform always pressed and arranged immaculately, and most importantly—you spoke at a responsible volume. you didn’t go screaming and running through the halls like a certain green-haired classmate.

well, unless you were chasing said boy down the halls while chewing his ear off about his uniform, anyway.

he’d always found a way to get under your skin. ever since you’d met him during your second year at katagiri high, there was simply something about him that had your nerves set on edge, your hackles raised.

perhaps it was the volume at which he stomped around the school, paying no heed for those around him while trumpeting every last thought in that empty brain of his.

to be frank, it pissed you off.

but you’d learned to live with it. he was, after all, not someone who was supposed to bother you outside of class. you tried your best to put up with him when you could—though you sometimes lost your temper watching him walk around in clear violation of the dress-code with his bright orange hoodie, happily squawking away with that ishikawa boy—and couldn’t help but take the old shinai the kendo club had discarded and smack him upside the head—it was the student council’s job to reprimand and discipline (arguably—in most cases you wouldn’t care so much, but in his case you believed discipline was absolutely necessary) the students of katagiri high, after all. but that was besides the point.

he wasn’t supposed to be someone you saw more than absolutely necessary.

so why, why was he lounging around the student council’s room in his bright orange hoodie, an arm wrapped around sengoku and kouno-san, chatting their ears off with his feet raised on your part of the table—

your hand reflexively jumped to the wooden shinai propped up in the corner. the green-head had the good sense to turn around as murderous intent flooded the room, eyes growing wide at the sight of you.

“o—oh! l/n-san! fancy meeting you here!” he chuckled nervously, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he backed up with his hands stretched out in between you two, as if they’d do anything to protect him.

“indeed! especially considering this is the student council’s room!” you agreed, a vein bulging at your temple as you not-so-discreetly conveyed that this was not, in fact, his after-school hang out spot.

you hadn’t noticed ishikawa, hori, and yoshikawa in the corner of the room when you’d first entered—your focus had jumped solely to the green-haired chatterbox in front of you, but you could see them backing up fearfully from the corner of your narrowed gaze, the sickly sweet smile adorning your face a strong indicator of just how close you were to snapping.

“a-ah, l/n-san…actually, sakura and i agreed to let them come into this room when they need air conditioning…you know how how it gets in the summer and everything. we’re sorry for not giving you notice ahead of time, but surely it won’t be too much of a problem…?” sengoku’s voice squeaked slightly as he addressed you, taking a tentative step closer.

“i have no problem with the others, sengoku-kun. but him…” your grip around the shinai tightened as you took a step forward, your smile turning positively venemous as iura took another step back, face paling until he seemed to be almost blue.

his friends in the corner of the room seemed to be praying for him, yet too scared to step in on his behalf. indeed, you were known throughout the school to be the scary upperclassmen—which is exactly why you were chosen to be the student council’s attack dog. no one had the guts to stand up to you.

even sengoku could do nothing as you raised the shinai, smacking it once against the palm of your hand as you stared down your nose at iura.

“would you care to explain to me why you still haven’t fixed your uniform, iura-san?”

“ah…not…really…” he seemed at a loss for words as he took another step back—but his back hit the window, and he whirled around in a panic, letting out a high-pitched scream as he realized he was cornered.

“too late!” you barked as you brought the shinai down on his head.

or, you would have had iura not taken the opened bottle of water on the table next to him and reflexively thrown it in your face.

the whole room was dead silent as you lowered the shinai slowly, eyes covered by your bangs while beads of water rolled down your face.

you could have heard a pin drop.

as the silence stretched on and no one moved, hori finally had the courage to speak up.

“a-ah, l/n-san, why don’t me and yuki help you dry off and get changed? there are towels in the nurses office, so—”

“it’s fine. i can take care of myself.” everyone flinched as you dropped the shinai to the floor with a loud clatter before turning and walking stiffly out the door.

as soon as you left the room, everyone rushed to iura frantically.

“you’re dead, dude! what were you thinking?!”

“jeez, how could you throw water all over a girl? how ungentlemanly can you be, iura?”

“i hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked when l/n-san gets back!”

but even with all his friends yelling at him, iura remained staring forward blankly, eyes unfocused. he was in a daze.

he hadn’t meant to throw water at you. it had simply been a base reflex. his survival instincts had taken over.

but, oh…

you had been wearing nothing but the thin standard button-up over your bra when he’d dumped that water on you.

and when that fabric got wet, it clung like crazy—not to mention the way it got all translucent.

and your arms had both been raised high, ready to swing down—

unintentional. it was unintentional, he reminded himself as he remembered the eyeful of your (thankfully-covered) boobs he had gotten.

his face reddened.

he’d never viewed you as a real girl before. as a female. all he ever saw was a bloodthirsty, rabid dog waiting to attack—someone to be afraid of. someone to run from.

but now…

he groaned, sliding down to his knees and clutching his head.

this couldn’t be happening.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd write a Marilyn x bad girl student reader? Bad girl like motorcycle riding, ripped jeans, don't adhere to the dress code or turn in assignments on time, most of the other students scared of her, all around bad ass reader. When Marilyn finds out reader is in her class she dreads it because reader has always made it hard on the other teachers but she's pleasantly surprised when reader does well and never disrupts class. In fact reader has helped her out from time to time, just quietly moving heavy stuff for Marilyn and picking up things Marilyn dropped for her. The only time reader causes a disruption is when another student harasses Marilyn for being a normi and reader punches his lights out. They get into a relationship where Marilyn is all mommy dom with spanking and choking tied up reader smut. Not sure how to end this request lol

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))))))

A very, very bad girl

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Smut, strap on, bad girl reader, fluff?, spanking, kinks, dom! marilyn

Word count: 5,715

Summary: You were a very bad girl at Nevermore, but when you met her, you changed a bit… just for her…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Ms. (Y/N), for the last time, please take your feet off the table,” your math teacher said. You smiled and shook your head.

“I don't feel like it,” you said, looking at your nails with indifference.

You were that way, you had no remedy. When your parents sent you to Nevermore, they thought you would finally become a good girl. They were wrong. That school had too many rules and these were your worst enemies. You had no intention of obeying, of dressing in that hideous uniform and of stopping terrorizing others with your haughty and almost violent attitude.

“Don't make me have to repeat it to you…” Your teacher said, tired of you.

“Does anyone mind if I put my feet on the table?” You asked the rest of your classmates out loud. Logically they all shook their heads. “You see it? You can continue.”

“I’m sick of you, (Y/N)…” The old woman hissed, crossing her arms.

You laughed out loud and held a defiant look.

“Please, shut up, I’m sick of your annoying voice,” you said whispering. Obviously the teacher heard you and banged her fist on the table.

“It's over, (Y/N), to the director's office, now.”

You raised your eyebrows, lowering your feet and dragging the chair so that it made an excruciating creak.

You were used to visits to Weems's office. You could almost say you lived there.

“Principal Weems…” You crooned as you knocked on the door. Immediately Larissa opened it and peeked in, puffing at the sight of you.

“You again? What have you done this time?” She asked listlessly. You shrugged.

“Nothing, it seems that Mrs. Redfield doesn't want my back to stop hurting,” you said going into the office.

“What am I going to do with you…”Weems sighed. “Sit down.”

You slumped back in the chair while Larissa searched for what looked like a file bigger than the entire Harry Potter books saga.

“Let's see... Misconduct, swearing in class, flagrant violation of the Nevermore’s dress code...” She said that last sentence looking you up and down. There was no sign of the regulation uniform. Just a black top and a too-ripped jeans. “Fights with classmates, reckless driving on the grounds, destruction of gardens and school property... My God, (Y/N), I assure you that I have never seen someone with a file like yours.”

“What prize will I get?” You asked amused. Weems rolled her eyes and sighed in despair.

“You're playing with fire, (Y/N), if your parents weren't my friends you were out of Nevermore a long time ago.”

“Oh, I love privileges,” you said laughing, with a cocky and defiant posture.

“I'm glad to hear it, because as a privileged girl that you are, you're going to serve a privileged punishment…” Larissa told you, smiling with satisfaction, looking for a stack of papers. “I've seen your handwriting and it's pretty decent. You are going to transcribe all these documents to make them readable.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“But I have to clean the bike and…” You said, starting to regret it.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N),” Larissa said wryly, putting all that stack of papers in front of you.

Naturally you already had in mind to duck, but when you raised a hand she grabbed your wrist.

“Do you think I'm dumb enough to let you go? You underestimate me, (Y/N). This time you are going to fulfill your punishment here, with me,” she told you with a gentle smile. You pursed your lips and grunted, carrying the stack of papers to the table the principal pointed out to you.

“Shit…” You whispered, sitting down at the small desk.

“What have you said? I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly...” Larissa said, blinking rapidly.

“Nothing…” You said, picking up a pen, ready to carry out your punishment.

The seconds seemed like minutes, and the minutes seemed like hours. You've never had the opportunity to fully serve a punishment. Of course, you would make the  time unbearable for the  principal too.

“I'm boooooored,” you crooned.

“Poor thing,” Larissa said without looking at you, while she leafed through some papers.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting the tedious punishment.

“Can I come in?” A voice you didn't know said.

“Oh, Marilyn, of course, come in, please,” Larissa said, smiling and getting up.

An unknown woman entered the office. The first impression for you was very important, and that red-haired woman impressed you. She seemed shy, putting on her glasses in an amusing move. You followed her with your eyes, without saying a word. Curiosity invaded you.

“I'm glad you've arrived, let me be the first to welcome you to Nevermore,” Weems said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Larissa. I know it must have been difficult to be admitted,” the woman said, sitting in front of the director, who made a gesture to play it down.

“Oh, it's nothing. You have the honor of being the first normi to teach at Nevermore, and I sincerely want you not to be the last one.”

The redhead nodded and looked at you curiously.

“Who is she?” She asked. You remained silent, noticing how your cheeks blushed. You were unable to utter a word, to make a joke. That woman had caught your eye and no matter how hard you tried to give an explanation to that reaction, you couldn't.

“Oh, she's (Y/N), she has the great achievement of being the most troublemaker student in Nevermore,” Larissa said, getting up and walking towards you. “Be careful with her, she's a time bomb, but they forgot to put a timer on her,” she said amused, placing a hand on your shoulder, which you pulled away with a grunt.

“Eh, I can introduce by myself,” you said, looking at the redhead, who kept looking at you curiously. “I am (Y/N), the most beautiful, nicest and coolest student of Nevermore, and you? Who are you?” You said, extending a hand towards the woman.

She laughed softly, shaking your hand.

“I'm Marilyn Thornhill, the new botany teacher,” she told you. You nodded amused.

“Plants, how funny,” you said sarcastically. She kept smiling, apparently she had not understood the meaning of your words.

“Be very careful with her, Marilyn, she is the terror of the teachers. And you, (Y/N), could you do me a big favor and be nice to Marilyn?”

You ignored the director's comment and looked back at Marilyn, winking at her.

“If you behave well, I'll be good…” You said with a suggestive voice. She laughed, as if she didn't get the point of everything you were saying. She seemed very innocent, and you liked that, you liked her a lot.

Larissa's hand went directly to the back of your neck, giving you a soft smack. Surely she had understood what you meant.

“Keep writing, (Y/N)…”

Two days later, your first botany class finally arrived. You were expecting to see that woman in action. She naturally attracted you, she was the type of woman you liked. She's innocent, without malice, the kind of woman your brusque and rebellious personality could corrupt.

You sat at your desk and to your own surprise, you didn't put your feet up on the table, you sat down right. You took out what little was left of your books and put them on the table, under the strange look of your classmate.

“What are you looking at?” You asked rudely. The boy shook his head and looked away.

“Good morning guys, my name is Marilyn Thornhill, and I'm your new botany teacher,” the redhead said enthusiastically. You could see how her eyes were looking sideways at you. Surely Larissa had filled her in on all your antics.

“They say that she is normi, that she has no ability,” the girl next to you whispered. You looked at her, annoyed at listening to her more than to Marilyn.

“Oh, really? Weems must have gone crazy,” another girl answered.

In a few seconds the murmur became more present. You couldn't hear the class, you were surrounded by sarcastic comments and various gossip from your classmates.

“I would appreciate a bit of silence, please,” the teacher said, sighing.

You glared around you. It was her first class and your classmates did nothing but annoy you. Unlike you, who was silent, behaving like an exemplary student.

“Please…” Marilyn insisted, starting to get desperate.

“Shut up, damm it!” You yelled, getting up from your chair. They all looked at you stunned. “Shut up or I'll shut up you.”

Silence fell. The redhead looked at you with wide eyes. She wouldn't expect the Nevermore trouble factory to have silenced her classmates.

“Please, continue,” you said with a wide smile, while all your classmates lowered their heads.

Marilyn shook her head and pretended nothing had happened, giving you a strange look.

When the class ended and all your classmates left the conservatory, you smugly approached the redhead, who seemed to be organizing some boxes.

“Aren't you going to thank me?” You asked, tapping her shoulder. Marilyn jumped and smiled at you nervously.

“Oh, (Y / N), I… Well, thanks I guess,” she said shyly, as she placed a box on her desk and emptied its contents.

“I guess? Come on, redhead, I've done you a favor,” you said, pretending to be offended. She glanced at you briefly, but then she turned away. It was obvious that your presence made her nervous. You began to wonder what Larissa had told her about you. “Are you afraid of me?” You asked mockingly.

“Well, I…” Marilyn said, looking for a way to dodge your question. “Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. Larissa has told me a lot of disturbing things about you.”

“Yeah, Larissa, of course,” you said, leaning against her desk and picking up a very small pot and looking at it curiously. “What is this?”

“Be careful with that, please, it's a rare specimen of a miniature carnivorous plant,” Marilyn told you with fear in her eyes.

You smiled and began to play with the pot, carelessly passing it from one hand to the other.

“How funny,” you said, seeing the horrified expression of the redhead. “Surely now you expect me to set it on fire, or break it, that's what Larissa told you, right?”

“Please, (Y/N), give it back to me, it's a very delicate plant,” she told you nervously, reaching out her arm to take the pot. You stepped away and took advantage of the fact that you were taller than her, raising your arm as high as you could.

“No way. First I want you to thank me for having shut those pesky ones’ mouth,” you said amused, seeing how the redhead tried to reach the small plant, without success.

Marilyn snorted and shook her head, crossing her arms.

“Okay, (Y/N), I appreciate you letting me teach the class in peace, are you happy?”

You smiled widely and returned the plant, which the redhead quickly took, looking at you over her glasses.

“Have you ever been told that you shouldn't judge someone before you meet them?” You said ironically. She closed her eyes and nodded.

“You're right, (Y/N), I'm sorry. Larissa warned me that I should be careful with you. I'm having a bit of a hard time getting used to this place and I wouldn't want you to give me trouble.”

You laughed out loud.

“Calm down, Marilyn, I don't give trouble to attractive women like you…” You whispered in her ear. She looked at you surprised, but she didn't say anything, she just continued with her boxes, glancing at you from time to time.

“Don't you have class right now?” She asked, obviously uncomfortable with your presence.

“I'm not going. I hate maths,” you said indifferently, while you watched how the redhead seemed to suffer when picking up a box that seemed heavy. “Hey, don't try too hard, redhead,” you said, helping her to catch it.

“Don't call me redhead, (Y/N), I'm your teacher. I'm assuming you're not going to call me Miss Thornhill, but I'd appreciate it if you would at least call me Marilyn.”

You rolled your eyes, placing that box where she indicated.

“Fine, Marilyn…” You sighed.

The teacher's attitude towards you was abrupt, fearful, nervous. Larissa should have told her you were little short of the devil. You didn't want to have that fame, at least with her.

The days passed like this. You were the terror of the teachers, but not of all. With Marilyn you were an angel. Even your fights and punishments had lessened. Your attraction to the redhead increased so much that it was impossible for you not to say suggestive phrases about her while you helped her after class. She was skilled at dodging hints. It was already impossible for her to be as innocent as you thought. Her smile and the slight blush on her cheeks told you that she perfectly understood what you wanted to say.

Little by little, that absurd fear that she had of you disappeared and her attitude towards you was much calmer. You weren't sure, but somehow you sensed that she had some interest in the naughty bad girl you were. For some strange reason, she was always there when you got into trouble.

One afternoon, you were going for a motorcycle ride to loosen up a bit. You had class works to do, but you didn't care, you never did.

“Hello, precious,” you said tenderly to your motorcycle, which you loved above all things.

You were going to start the engine, when you heard some desperate screams.

“Start damn it!”

It was Marilyn, who seemed to be having trouble starting the little beetle. You were going to ignore it, but the situation seemed too funny to you. You got off the motorcycle and approached the car, leaning mockingly out the window.

“Any problem?” You asked with a wide smile. Marilyn looked at you and, resigned she nodded.

“Well, yes, many problems, (Y/N). The car won't start and I have to go to Jericho to look for the seeds I need for... Well, for my classes...” She told you, turning the key over and over again.

“Well, well, let me take a look,” you said with the same mocking tone. “Open the engine, redhead.”

“Marilyn!” The redhead yelled, opening the engine door.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say…” You whispered, taking a look. “Oh oh…”

“What's happening?”

“I'm afraid someone has had a little fun,” you said, reaching into the engine and pulling out what looked like a broken belt. “This should be there, see?”

Marilyn got out of the car and was horrified to see that you were right.

“It is difficult for the car to start without this. I'm afraid you'll have to call the tow truck, redhead,” you said with a pitying face, handing her the broken leash.

“Oh, shit…” Marilyn sighed. “I'll ask Larissa to take me to the town and…”

It was the best opportunity of your life. You weren't going to waste it.

“No way, redhead... Marilyn. I'll take you,” you said, pointing to the motorcycle.

Marilyn looked over your shoulder with raised eyebrows.

“Are you going to take me... In that thing?” She asked you. “No way, there's no way I'm going to get on that thing with you.”

You shrugged and walked away.

“As you wish, but I think Larissa is not here…” You crooned. “Surely those seeds can wait until tomorrow…” You looked at her, smiling, while you got on the motorcycle. She rolled her eyes and cautiously approached.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “But be careful, please. I never liked these things,” she said with a voice of having given up.

“Calm down…” You said, taking another helmet out of the small compartment and tossing it to her.

“Oh, God…” She sighed as she got on the bike with you.

“Hold on, redhead,” you said, tying her arms around your waist.

“Please, (Y/N), I only ask you not to ruuuuuun,” she said, too late. You had already started, and you used to go fast. “Please, (Y/N), stop!”

You laughed while she, scared, clung to you with all her strength.

It seemed unlikely, but from that day on, the strange relationship you had got closer and closer.

Little by little, the redhead responded to your advances. Never in the way you expected, but it seemed to amuse her that you flirted with her in such a shameless way. Sometimes you got the impression that Marilyn dropped things on the floor for you to pick up, you'd soon find out why.

You were there as always, helping Marilyn with her plants. Not that you were a good girl now, quite the opposite. But with her you were, you were the kindest girl, but also the cheekiest girl of Nevermore. As you put down a large pot in the ground, you looked at Marilyn. You didn't believe what she was seeing. She was looking at you, but not at you, she was looking at your butt. You were wearing a very short skirt, and surely it wasn't exactly your skirt that she was looking at.

“What? Do you like what you see?” You asked, getting up. She looked away quickly.

“I don't know what you mean…” She said, pretending to take care of one of the plants. You bit your lip and ran to get behind her and lean into her ear.

“Yes, you know, redhead, you were looking at my panties…” You said humming, brushing the hair away from her ear. She jerked around, pushing you back a bit.

“Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N). If you have already finished with the pots you can leave,” she said, pretending, very badly, by the way.

“Okay,” she said, making an unexpected move. You grabbed Marilyn by the head and pulled her up, planting a kiss on her lips. She didn't resist, but she did stay wide-eyed. It was your first time taking that step and to your delight, she didn't seem to mind at all. “See you tomorrow,” you crooned, walking out of the conservatory and leaving Marilyn gaping.

After stealing that kiss from the redhead, you got used to doing it all the time. She never complained, but she never kissed you back either. It was weird, she seemed blocked whenever you zoomed in. It was as if he really liked you, as if the little suspicion you had ceased to be, to become evidence. Soon the occasion would come that would make everything clear.

“And for this reason, these little wonders can survive weeks without a drop of water…” Marilyn explained, under your watchful eye. You heard murmurs next to you. As much as you ordered them to shut up, your classmates ignored it.

“Look at her, she tries to be cool but she can't, deep down I feel sorry for her,” a boy behind you said. You concentrated to listen better.

“It's pathetic. I can't wait for her to get out of Nevermore. The normies have no right to be here,” his classmate said.

You had a serious face, you stopped listening to Marilyn a long time ago.

“Just wait and see, I have prepared a little surprise.”

“What have you done this time?”

“Watch and learn. This is how normies are treated in Nevermore,” one of the boys said, moving his hand towards the redhead's desk.

From the wall, what looked like a tarp was unfurled, with some horrible words written on it. Marilyn froze as she read the message.

The best normi is the dead normi

The entire class erupted in laughter, as Marilyn struggled to maintain her composure. You had heard the conversation, you knew who was to blame.

“Damned bastard!” You said, getting up from the table and turning around. “Hey, it was him!” You said, grabbing the collar of her shirt. Marilyn didn't say anything, she just stared at you.

“Let me go, I'm just saying what we all think,” The boy told you. Your blood boiled

“Apologize right now, Fred…” You hissed, grabbing his shirt tightly.

“I'm not even going to do it, that damn normi has to get out of Nevermore…” He said you in a mocking tone.

That was too much for you. With all your might, you pushed the boy, making him fall to the ground, knocking over several chairs and tables along the way.

“Stupid!” He yelled. No one seemed to care that you were in class.

“You're the stupid one, you're going to find out!” You yelled, throwing yourself on top of him and starting a fight in the middle of the conservatory.

“Stop it!” Marilyn yelled, approaching you with fear. You looked at her, causing your partner to punch you several times.

“Damn imbecile,” you said, putting your hand on your nose, which soon began to bleed. “I'm going to destroy you!” You said hitting her with all your might.

“For God's sake, (Y/N), stop it, stop it!” The redhead said, trying to separate you from him, who already had his hands in a surrender position. You kicked, but you let yourself be dragged by Marilyn.

“Everyone out, class's over!” She yelled, checking that, despite the beating, the boy could get up. You stayed there, held by Marilyn on the ground.

“You'll see when I catch you,” you said, passing a hand across your nose, pointing threateningly at your partner.

“Why did you do it, (Y/N)?” Marilyn asked you, while she healed your wounds. “If I tell Weems what happened, she won't hesitate to expel you.”

“What did you want me to do? You don't deserve that,” you said, hissing when the cotton touched one of your wounds.

“I don't need you to defend me, (Y/N). I just overlook that kind of things, I'm used to it,” she told you, caressing your cheek. You smiled mischievously.

“Did you like to see me give that idiot the beating of his life? Confess it, redhead...” You sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked like she was going to deny it, but quite the opposite. She came up to you and kissed you on the lips. A slow, tender kiss, that had nothing to do with the ones you stole from her.

It might seem like a simple gesture, but it was something else, it was the beginning of a real relationship, one in which words were not needed.

“You're a bad girl, (Y/N),” she whispered after kissing you. You widened your eyes and bit your lip. “I like bad girls...”

“I won't be so bad when I've defended you,” you murmured, grabbing her waist. She laughed, putting both hands on your chest.

“We all have defects…”

You were kissing the redhead with passion, with desire, as you entered her room. It had been a while now, and it seemed like the right time to turn up the heat a bit.

“You should be in class, (Y/N)…” Marilyn gasped, between kisses. You laughed, attacking her neck unceremoniously.

“I don't care about classes…” You said. Unexpectedly, she grabbed your hair.

“No, no, no (Y/N), I can't allow you to continue being a bad girl…” She whispered in your ear. “If you don't go to class, I'll have to punish you...”

You opened your eyes. Of all the people you knew, she was the least likely to behave that way. You didn't like to feel dominated, but you already made several exceptions with her, it was okay to make another one.

“Are you going to punish me?” You asked pouting. “Look how I’m shaking.”

The moment you said those words, you received a slap on the cheek. It was not a soft one, it stung.

“Shut up, bitch…” The redhead said, grabbing her hair. “Don't try to be cool with me, I think you don't know me well...”

You shook your head and bit your lip. You wanted to keep teasing her, you wanted to see what she was capable of.

“I do what I want, redhead…” You said, earning another slap. Marilyn sighed and shook her head, shoving you roughly onto the bed.

“You have to learn manners, (Y/N). Maybe I have to teach you a lesson…” She said, sitting next to you. “Come here,” she told you, patting her lap.

You looked at her with a frown.

“Have I not spoken clearly enough, (Y/N)? I told you to get on my lap. Mommy is going to teach you to be a good girl...”

You backed away smiling, surprised by your lover's domineering attitude. Seeing that her gaze became more and more dangerous, you decided to obey, lying on her lap.

“That's how I like it, an obedient girl…” Marilyn said mockingly. “Now mommy is going to teach you to treat her with respect… To behave properly.”

“You like that I’m a bad girl. You can't help it, "mommy,"” you said joking. Her hand fell on your buttocks with a painfully pleasurable force.

“Mmm…” She murmured. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. “I like to teach good manners to bad girls like you, (Y/N). Stupid girls who think they are the coolest in school for wearing ripped pants, riding motorbikes and talking back to the teachers...”

Saying those words with a lusty hiss, she pulled down your pants and underwear, exposing your butt.

“You have a beautiful ass, (Y/N), it's a shame that I have to punish it…” She told you between laughs. You just nodded. You couldn't see what was happening, but her touch was tense, you knew what was coming, and it turned you on. “Come on honey, be a good girl... Count with me...”

“One!” You yelled as you received the first spank. It itched, it stung, but you had to fight back a moan. “Fuck…Two!”

“That's it... What a good girl...” The redhead whispered, relieving your injured area a little. “Come on, come on, we're not done yet. You have to be punished for everything you've done. I'm sure the rest of your teachers would really like to see you like that... So submissive, so... obedient.”

“I thought you were a sweet and innocent spinster and it turns out that you're vicious woman... I like it,” you said, earning another strong spanking.

“Shut up!” She yelled at you, grabbing your hair and pulling it hard. “Haven't they taught you not to judge people without knowing them?” She repeated mockingly, just like you did in her first class. “I just want you to open your dirty mouth to count…”

You nodded and closed your eyes. The heat that was building between your legs was already almost unbearable, and it hadn't even started.

“Five! Six!” You counted, following the frantic rhythm of her whipping. Your butt hurt, surely it was completely red. She laughed with every hit, she surely was enjoying on almost as many levels as you.

“Twenty!”  You counted. Marilyn chuckled.

“Okay, (Y/N), we're done with this. Now I want you to undress and lie down on the bed,” she said, moving away from her lap. You looked at her with a smile camouflaged in a grimace of pain.

“Why don't you undress yourself?” You asked, grabbing her blouse and undoing its buttons. She looked at you, blinking repeatedly, before giving you another slap.

“You may be the queen at school, (Y/N), but in my bed I'm in charge, and you're going to do what I tell you…” She told you with a natural smile.

“Very, very good,” you said, getting rid of your already half-down pants. She looked at you with desire, while she searched for something in her drawer. It looked like a rope.

“Lie down,” she told you, once you were naked. “Mommy hasn't finished with you yet...”

You nodded, obeying.

Marilyn got up and undressed little by little. You tried to touch her body several times, but you always received a slap.

“You are so desperate, (Y/N), so anxious for mommy to fuck you…” She said to you, climbing on top of you and grabbing your wrists.

“What are you doing?” You asked when the rope was tied to your hands and the redhead took them to the headboard. “Hey, untie me.”

“No, my love... I'm not going to untie you...” She told you, giving you a tender kiss on your lips. “You're not so brave anymore, are you? Now you are at my mercy, (Y/N)… But don't worry, mommy will be good to you, as long as you obey.”

“I think I can get used to being tied up…” You whispered, fixing your gaze on her breasts, salivating from having them in your mouth.

“I'm glad you think so…” She said, caressing your cheek. “Look at you, you're so wet,” she said while with her other hand, she caressed your between the legs, slipping between your folds.

“Yes…” You said, gasping at her touch. “Please, mommy… I liked that spanking a lot, I want, I want you to fuck me.”

She laughed outrageously, as two of her fingers played at your entrance.

“My bad girl… Look what you've ended up with. In a silly girl, begging me to fuck her... How cute... It's a shame...”

“A shame?” You asked, panting and shifting, struggling against your restraints.

“Honey, you don't want to get away with it, do you?” She asked, removing her hand. You protested.

“What? Oh, come on…” You said, moving your hips, fighting for the contact you had before.

“Shhh, shhh,” the redhead whispered, moving a little above you. “Use your mouth for something else than to complain, (Y/N)… Now you have to please mommy… Then we'll talk…”

You nodded unable to speak, because she sat on top of you. You couldn't breathe, you didn't feel the air entering your lungs, you could only feel her.

Your arms moved as she moaned and rubbed against your mouth.

“Can't you breathe, my love? Oh, poor thing,” Marilyn said petulantly, letting you catch some air. “That's enough, (Y/N), stick out your tongue and make mommy happy…”

You obeyed, taking in all the air you could. You ran your tongue up and down, when and licking everything you found in your path. You were short of breath, but you were full of passion, of involuntary movements of your hips.

“My bad girl... I hope, ahh, I hope that's how you learn to... Oh... To behave well...” Marilyn moaned, moving faster against your face.

You moaned too. You were desperate, unable to move your arms, barely breathing, but the heat you felt between your legs managed to hide those inconveniences. Little by little, the redhead's movements intensified, becoming abrupt and disorderly, until finally, with a heartbreaking and very indiscreet moan, her entire body tensed, and you could feel how her humidity began to run your face.

“That was good, honey… Your filthy mouth is so good with mommy…”

You caught your breath.

“Yeah, I've done it, mommy... Now, please, I need you,” you said shaking your body. That didn't seem to matter to her, as she got up from the bed, reaching for something in a drawer of her dresser.

“Oh, fuck,” you said as you watched her putting a rather sizable strap on to her waist. Spreading a slippery liquid on her dildo, she approached you, with a tender smile, but also disturbing. “Hey, hey, that's really, really big, isn't it?”

She shook her head, saying nothing as she climbed back onto the bed. Your eyes lit up when her hands went to your restraints. When you felt released from the headboard, you sighed and smiled.

“Why are you smiling, bad girl?” She asked you, pouting.

“Because you've come to your senses, and you're going to untie me…” You said. Her face told you that this was not her intention at all.

“You're so sweet… Of course not, honey. You have to be tied down like the bad girl you are. I just want you to suffer your punishment from behind... Until you're a good girl I won't give you the pleasure of watching me fucking you.”

Saying that, she grabbed your waist roughly, turning you on the bed and tying you back to the headboard despite your resistance.

“Shhh…. Don't worry… Mommy will take care of you, honey,” she told you, lifting your abdomen, exposing you completely. “Mmm, how I like your body… I would be looking at you all day… So exposed, so defenseless.”

“Oh, fuck, Marilyn, do it once and for all,” you said, when you felt the tip of that huge object against your slippery folds.

“Careful what you wish for, honey…” She said, thrusting herself inside of you. You opened your eyes, noticing how your walls narrowed with difficulty, accommodating to size.

“Ah, damn, don't be so abrupt… It's… It's big… It hurts me…” You said hissing. Deep down, that little pain you felt only made you more aroused.

“What’s wrong, dear? Can't your little pussy handle mommy's dick? Oh what a lying girl... You're very brave on the outside, (Y/N), but you can't even stand me...”

“Shut up, I'm not used to something so... So...” You said, running out of voice when the pleasure began to run through your body. “Okay, okay, don't stop, keep going…”

She laughed, picking up her pace, gripping your hair tight as she moved with ease. The moans became more and more frequent.

You were completely at her mercy. Marilyn enjoyed, moving her hips gracefully against yours, guiding your body with her hands, digging her nails into your thighs.

You couldn't take it anymore. After a few thrusts and a few reminders about who you belonged to, you snapped, twitching and eyes squeezed shut.

“Damn… Marilyn, you're incredible,” you said, while the redhead untied you. She leaned over you and kissed you tenderly. Her expression was no longer that of the crazy domineering woman who took you mercilessly, it was the one she always had, the one you fell in love with.

“You know, (Y/N)? I don't want you to ever change…”She told you, bringing your head closer to her chest, letting you rest on it.

“Change what?”

“The way you are... I don't care how rebellious you are, I only care that you have a good heart... And I know you have it...”

[dropintomanga]

Neighborhood Story - A Special Chapter on Living Life with Color

As a fan of Ai Yazawa's Paradise Kiss, I couldn't help but pick up its prequel, Neighborhood Story. I've enjoyed reading about Mikako Koda and her feelings for her childhood friend, Tsutomu Yamaguchi. I'm glad it won the award for Best New Edition of a Classic Manga at the 2024 American Manga Awards. Neighborhood Story is a work where you really see what Yazawa was all about before NANA.

There's one particular side story in the volume 3 omnibus that I really enjoyed because it went into how hard it is to be accepted when you're bit too cool for the crowd and why trying to fit in isn't always the best idea.

Before the current story, Mikako attended a junior high school where she repeatedly violated the dress code. Her dreams of being a full-on fashion designer were in full swing during her 2nd year. She catches the attention of the class president, Sanae Seto. Seto admires Mikako, but lives a life where she just follows the crowd. She hesitates to speak up as needed and responds to people in ways that suit them.

Seto has a dream of being a shojo novelist and writes in her spare time. However, she's afraid of showing off her work in fear that she'll be made fun of. This is in contrast to Mikako, who shows off her style of fashion with full confidence much to the distress of the school faculty. Mikako gets bullied for her rebellious behavior while Seto doesn't.

Seto doesn't understand how Mikako doesn't seem to mentally break from all the bullying and someone tells her.

"She's already found the most important thing in the world to her, and her conviction in it is unshakeable."

Bullying is still a major problem in schools today and adults continue to fail children on how to face it. So what if there really isn't any help? What can kids do? One can do what Mikako does and that's to live your life. Don't bully back and don't retaliate. Practice confidence and stay connected to people who genuinely care about you. Mikako does all of these things. When Mikako gets bullied after coming back from a suspension, Seto tries to stand up for her. Seto's classmates try to tell her that it's none of her business to stand up for Mikako. Mikako responds with conviction by pouring water from a vase onto one of her bullies for picking on Seto (I did say don't retaliate, but only if you're the main target. You do have to stand up for your friends instead of being a bystander).

However, those solutions aren't enough. After Seto comes over to Mikako's house and sees how lively she is compared to at school, the two stopped connecting during their third year. It turns out Mikako wasn't going to school at the start because her behavior really disturbed the school culture. Mikako felt that she was too restricted in how she wanted to express herself in school.

Seto realized that it's not easy to care about what people think about you or be free for that matter. She admits that she was jealous of Mikako because compared to her, her life seemed dull. Seto also says something when going through a life change that made her move away to another school,

"Still, I had a new mold to fill. So I changed my color and shape to fit in perfectly there. That's how most of us live our lives. It makes things easier."

To be fair, sometimes, this is necessary. But being just a singular color is limiting. You're surviving, but not exactly thriving. And the connections you make by trying to fit into a cog aren't necessarily the best. Do they value the same things you do? That may not be true. When there's an overwhelming majority that's you're totally not align with and only enjoying being a part of it due to the benefits you get, you start to have some cognitive dissonance when you run into someone who makes you question what you're doing.

Seto finally realizes this after Mikako sends her off with a parting gift in the form of cute eyeglasses and a letter thanking her for being a friend during a tumultuous time in junior high. Mikako expresses her desire to get through junior high despite the bullying because of Seto. Seto then decides to chase her dream of being a shojo novelist. At the end of the chapter, a now award-winning future novelist Seto (who's in high school) decides to write about her experiences with Mikako as her potential debut novel.

When you're all by yourself and not feeling connected to what's really important to you, you can fall into black or white thinking. You're falling into a one-color scheme. I sometimes see this happening with youth who struggle to deal with uncertainty in their lives. That's why it's important to show them the varieties of people they can meet and experiences they can find that can change their perspective for the better. School is important, but it is black and white as hell and its lessons don't apply to what actually matters in real life. Seto was a victim of this until Mikako entered the picture.

Seto says a very profound thing in the end as she begins to write her story.

"As my fingers struck the keys, the emotions that poured from my heart were so colorful."

I feel that this side story chapter in Neighborhood Story was also about embracing the diversity of emotions and how important they are to make us connected to those we value in our lives. This applies to both Seto and Mikako. After all, there's a reason why life is more than just black and white. It's colorful, good and bad. Dreams and communities that are truly welcoming are full of color. Embrace the rainbow because colors are the smiles of nature.

[daddy-dotcom]

I saw the clip of Clark's first day of on-level biology class, and I could've sworn they took this plot from another, uh, source. Freaky ahh biology teacher. Like dude, I'm absolutely certain no science teacher wears a short dress to work since it violates both faculty/staff dress code and lab safety even if it's not a lab day. It was giving the music video for Van Halen's Hot For Teacher. I get this is a YA show, but it didn't need to get cursed that soon. The AC at my school was broken for like half or 3/4 of the school year when I was in 10th grade, and my teachers still dressed professionally

most schools in Northern California don’t have AC and I’ve never seen in my life seen a teacher dress like that during a heat wave 💀 but it’s literally so ridiculous and unrealistic that I had to laugh like they’re playing Nelly’s hot in herrrre in the background 😭

(ngl tho..I am, unfortunately, a perv!Clark apologist so I don’t hate this episode)

[myimmortaltribute]

EpIsOdE 1 SeAsOn 1

AN: HIII OMG THIS IS MY FORST TIM WRITING A FANFICTION But I always get compliments from my frienz so I thought why the hellz not! Im gonna publish my bookz on Tumbler! Anywayz. Its based on a RP i started in elementary school with two EX best friends but were not frienz anymore cuz there bitchez so now im writing the story my way. ENJOY

Hi My name is Raven Morticia Lilith Blackrose, But every1 simply calls me Raven. I have long hair the color of a starless night with red streaks in it that reaches all the way to my butt (not dyed there natural, I was born like this) and bright purple eyes because I suffer from a rare genetic condition called Alexadria Genesis (AN:look it up its a real thing). I have pale skin that looks like porceline so I never wear any fundation or concealer and I only wear black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, mascara and black lipstick. What u should kknow about me is that I'm not like other girls, and dats not just cause I'm goth (I wear all black and hate preps) but also bcause ever since I was born I have always been obsessed with dark'ness and blood & death… Idk why. Oh well.

I was in math class (ugh. ikr). however math class is the class where I can be on my phone the most (which I do anyway in every class bc I'm naturally good at every subject and the teachers never call on me bc they know I already know everything). Anyway. Every teacher just lets me be on my phone during every class because I'm naturally smart like that, all but fucking math teacher Miss Poppy, which I know is just bitter and hates me because she's preppy & has a personal vendeta against goth chicks like me. First of all, shes a christian (duh) and plus she dresses in beiges and pastels (gross) & always gives me dress code violations because I dress in all black (but the principal never punishes me bc she's on my side).

I was textin on my phon when he came into the room: Damon Athame, the hottest goth boy in school. He's super tall like 6'6 and super athletic even though he never plays sports or do gym class (he prefers to sit on the bleachers and write poetry. He's that deep & mysteryous). Anyways he walks in and sits right in front of me, ignoring me… I dont even care tho bc I'm just too in love & I know he probably ignored me because he was thinking about darkness & stuff like that like I usually do to. I was having a conversation with Trixie & Katya, my besties, when the teacher had the NERVE to tell me to shut up! I scoffed and grunted but had to obey ans shut up.

Bitch teacher: RAVEN MORTICIA LILITH BLACKROSE! SHUT UP OR ILL SEND U TO THE PRINCIPAL!

Me: Ugh. Whatever (rolls eyes).

Just when I was going back to doing my oen thing, something out of nightmares happened… there was a huge booming sound and evertone turned to eachother and started asking each other what the hell was going on. Suddenly, the walls started trembling and Damon stood up and turned towards the door with a resolute gaze in his beautiful dark red eyes (which contrasted his whiteish silver hair and his pale skin beautifully.). The teacher yelled at everyone to stay quiet and sit down but it obviously didnt work. At thet point the nightmare intensified: a huge crack opened on the floor and the walls started shaking and cracking even more. Obviously, unlike the rest of my female classmates I didnt scream like a pussy or ran away. Instead i stood still and looked down into the huge crack in the floor, instead of debris and pieces of the building &stuff, on the bottom of it there was a river of lava and flames and thousands of monsters that were trying to climb the walls to get to us. All i could do is freeze, and thats what I would have done if I hadnt felt a hand grab my hand and drag me out of the classroom. I turned towards my savior and I was so surprised when I saw that the person who just saved me was Damon!

Damin: Come on! Run faster! Damnit! Me: This is the fastest i can run!!!

Some rocks started to fell from the ceiling but Damon avoided them while he ran protecting me and making me avoid them at the same time.

Damon: Stairs!! Quick!!

We went down the stairs and got out of the school, then we seeked refuge in the gym together with four more guys: Cory: Damon's best friend. Cory is a bit of a preppy guy and a jock but he's not an asshole and he's funny and hot. He's as tall as Damon and has brown hair and red eyes. Peter and his brother Adam: theyre kinda like twins but Adam is younger so they look identical with blonde hair and blue eyes and Peter is a bit taller than Adam. (Theyre preps and absolutely insufferable.) Sally: a rich, spoiled, snobby preppy bitch who always bullied me…well…she TRIED. (I would never let her put me down.) She had blonde hair and blue eyes (of course… honestly I hoped she had been eaten by the monsters.)

Anyway, we barricated ourselves in the gym after Cory and Damon had blocked the door with some equipment and all the objects they could find. Of course Sally, Peter and Adam did fucking nothing and left all the work to Cory and Damon so I tried to help because I wasn't scared abt breaking a nail or something.

Me: Hey, can I help?

Damon: Get out of the way! I have no time for you now!

I was SHOCKED by his tone of voice. I never heard him scream like that. Okay yea i get it, we were in the middle of the apocalypse but I literally didn't do anything wrong!!!

Me: FINE!

I ran away into the locker rooms to be alone. (like, I was devastated. my crush just yelled at me can u blame me?) Of course I didn't just sulk around cause I'm not a pussy. I looked around into the room to see if there was something I could use as a weapon in case the monsters got inside the gym. Just as I was thinking about that, one of those ugly fuckers found his way inside and got right in front of me. It was hideous, a mix between a man, a bat, a spider and who knows what the fuck else. I got a metal crowbar from the floor and defended myself, hitting it repeatedly. Right when it was about to kill me, it was hit by a bullet coming out of nowhere! It fell to the ground, with acid-like greenish blood oozing out of the bullet wound in his head. I turned around and saw him, Damon, with a silver gun in his hand, still smoking. He saved me again. I scoffed but was grateful.

Damon: Sorry about before… Me: It's ok. Thanks again. Damon: Well… It's my job after all. Me: What do you mean?

Before he could answer the voice of a woman echoed through the whole gym.

Principle: Guys!!! Are you all ok??? Come out!!!

We got out and met the principal, she was dressed completely in black as usual (she's a goth too) with her usual gothik style. She was different from the tyipical principals of other schools. While I wondered how she got in despite the door being blocked, she raised her hands towards the sky and started chanting a mysterious spell in latin. When she was done, all was back to normal as if time had turned back in time: the walls were fixed and there was no sign of monsters anywhere and nobody seemed to remember anything abt what had happened. I was speechless. I was quiet for a while then I started bombarding her with a bunch of questions. (like, I was shocked.)

Me: What does this mean??? What happened??? Am I dreaming??? Principal, r you a witch???

The principle and corey laughed, while Sally, Peyer and adam had an annoyed expression on there faces and began making fun of me (typical. I obviously ignored them.) Damon stayed quiet.

Principal: Come in my office, Raven… There are many things you need to knoe…

[jaggedwolf]

pll rewatch 1x17-1x18

despite what happens at the end of this pair, this feels like a quiet couple of episodes

1x17 is all about parent-teacher conferences. I imagine the teachers' opinions on the liars are

Emily: good kid 👍 could speak up in class more (Pam is satisfied and mentions this in her regular call to Wayne, once she's done being very emotional about Nick McCullers and Emily and all of that) Hanna: she's been skipping classes and got detention at least once for it, (Ashley will vaguely try to remember to discuss this with Hanna and lose it in the hullabaloo of single mom working and lasagna box money. Might even forget to go and Hanna will not remind her.) Spencer: smart kid! ...please give other kids the chance to speak in class (jk jk her parents don't show up to such things, they see her grades and awards online and are like ok satisfactory) Aria: adjusting ok from spending a year in a different country's schooling system (Byron and Ella are both too Ezra-obsessed to care about this :/)

don't ask me which of them is most likely to violate Rosewood's High dress code, I'm not convinced there is one

even when I first watched this show, seeing the scene where Ezra firmly de-escalates Nick McCullers from spewing his shit made me go ....I wish Ella was doing this instead of just looking impressed at him about it

If Emily had to deal with her mom being shit this season, it'd be nice to see one of the other moms be directly good to her about it

instead, Ezra's role above leads into Byron and Ezra having the stupidest conversation about authors. This is a parent-teacher conference! Talk about Aria's education and and not your snobby tastes!

Now that I'm forced to watch these Ezra scenes instead of fast-forwarding through them, can I say that I don't care for his personality either? He's just such a pushover. Why are you so invested in Byron's opinion and need to argue with your underage girlfriend about it? Why do you have zero classroom discipline and who let you direct a school play given that? If you want to take a job at Hollis College so you are less likely to GET ARRESTED for your bad relationship choices why are you immediately running it by said underage girlfriend like you are a married couple deciding to move somewhere.

it's like he used all of his spine against mr mccullers and then had to recharge over the course of the next week

meanwhile why is Aria so pissy about Ezra considering applying to a job at Hollis. HOLLIS IS IN ROSEWOOD AND WOULD MEAN YOUR BOYFRIEND IS NO LONGER YOUR TEACHER. Like, personally, it is still incredibly weird for a 23? 24? year old to be dating a 16 year old, but still way less weird than everything going on here and you can then frickin slow burn the reveal

died of cringe when Aria called him Ezra in school

my final Ezra comment: all of this is made 10x worse by the fact that Byron and Ella clearly think Aria has an acceptable crush on her hot English teacher, because they are bestowing their trust in this high school teacher to not be a goddamn creep about it. alas.

okay moving on to Emily's stuff, where she has a weird time, between the McCullers, her mom, Toby, and Jenna

is a tad odd that we only see Pam and Paige talk to her directly about Nick's rant - her friends and her teachers were right there, and I presume at least the liars did, since later Hanna says on the phone that "Paige is such a knob" re: Nick

in every scene she appears in, Paige looks like she wants to melt off the face of this planet. understandable.

Byron says that Nick is on the library board as well and Ella implies it is not the first time he has brought up the gay agenda....terrible terrible terrible, I'm glad that Rosewood High rallies around Emily here

along with Nick's explicit statements of Emily just getting anchor because she's gay (???) I kinda felt some racial implications this time around, especially with 1x17 having Emily and Pam as the only speaking characters of color

Ella says that "we all know Emily's the best swimmer" which makes what Emily tells Maya in the pilot about just wanting to do her best so funny to me...Emily truly is like I'm just here to have a good time and still does the best and it must drive S1!Paige insane

more insane, that is, because though Paige backs up Pam's assertion that her dad is always looking for someone else to blame, it sounds like the first person he tried blaming was Paige given her little "He wanted to know if I slacked off, but I didn't. You know I didn't." spiel, before he moved on to his homophobia. Because Nick McCullers sure does suck.

Emily's resignation in not mentioning it to her mom because of everything...I'm glad she witnesses Pam going off on Nick.

And then we get the world's worst leadup to a surprise kiss, which was why I knew Emily had to get a car at some point this season. Paige even manages to fuck up apologizing for her dad because she is that wrapped up in her own shit

I think she surprised herself with that kiss. That is the Paige McCullers classic, getting surprised and dismayed by her own reactions.

Emily declines a call from Paige in front of Spencer which leads to a snarky comment from the latter, giving me so many questions. Emily told the liars (or just Spencer) about the head dunk? Spencer must've really felt the heat from her last argument with Emily to not have insisted Emily report that too. Paige is the one calling Emily? Huh.

Speaking of Emily and Spencer, Emily ends up ceding custody of Toby to Spencer. I forgot that the show even has Toby bail on breakfast and have Spencer tell Emily they should call Toby together only for Emily to go no, you should call him yourself (because you both really really need to get laid).

Best A message this week: has to go to A straight up calling an EXTERMINATOR to taunt Hanna that A knows where Caleb is

1x18 is all about the school putting on a production of The Bad Seed, a play in which the 8-year-old killer gets away with everything because her mom is stupid.

Spencer and Hanna are cast in the play, Aria is stage manager, Emily lurks around for so long that I keep going why is she here??? until the very end of the episode mentions she's working in props.

Emily does not strike me as a theatre person in any regard, she got dragged into this via her friends and the class credit.

Hanna on which role she wants: "I want the other mother, the one who's drunk all the time." so real

Spencer in this conversation goes from nagging parent on Hanna hiding Caleb to being horny about Aria/Ezra. She continues to be horny about them the rest of the episode. The order of investment in Aria/Ezra goes Spencer >> Hanna > Emily.

S1!Spencer is really off her game, man. She waits to meet the other liars before looking up Braille, doesn't even note how Braille represents numbers. How excited were the writers to realize that they could encode a motel number in a way the girls would first translate to BAD?

Toby eavesdropped on Jenna and all he got was she mentioned Spencer.

To be fair to Toby he's been through a lot. This is why him being a pushover is far more excusable to me than Fitz's bullshit.

Spencer and Toby have a cute bonding moment post-ankle monitor removal by hanging out on the outskirts of town.

I pay zero attention to this, too distressed by the City of Rosewood Incorporated 1853 sign. Is Rosewood an actual city, unlike it's real-life counterpart of Rosemont, which merely a census-designated place? If it is an actual municipal corporation, why do we hear zero mention of an executive or legislature?

For the sake of my sanity I am going to assume the sign is a historical artifact, where Rosewood used to be a distinct city that has since been absorbed into a larger township.

Toby is soooo stressed about stealing Jenna's phone and the girls don't even get anything useful from it

At some point the girls all stare at Jenna trying on lingerie. Stop being weird in public about the blind girl. She can't see you, but everyone else can see you being fucking weird about her!

Jenna also ominously plays the flute while Emily stares at her. Logging this for later.

The girls all find a trophy with Ian's name on it and what looks like a bloodied corner on it. They are so spooked by the previous disappearing video that they immediately turn it into the cops, without googling golf tournaments or anything of the like

my sweet surbuban teenagers, unaware that that the non-Wilden cops will be dicks to them too

of course it is rat blood, from a little white rat named Spencer.

speaking of naive suburban teenagers, why are the non-Hanna liars and Ashely obsessed with describing Caleb as dark. He's just got shoulder-length hair and wears hoodies and hacks phones. He's smiling whenever he talks to anyone. He's the least dark of all four liars' love interests right now!

....do we think it's because of foster kid thing? that makes me sad :/

also makes me wonder how/why he landed in Rosewood specifically

See the thing I always like about Caleb is his relevance and helpfulness with the plot stuff. He's not sitting around making pining eyes at Hanna, he's helping Hanna figure out that the dead lady's nephew isn't legit, or the liars are handing him a phone to hack

he said the phone looks like it's from 2020 because that is ten years in the future for him. but it already feels a long time ago for me tbh.

I enjoy him making fun of the liars for stealing a blind girl's phone and also for calling said blind girl "Jenna Cavanaugh" instead of "Jenna Marshall". He's new here! He's not up-to-date on all these step-siblings!

Hanna and Aria make up super fast over the A thing after Aria is slightly pissy at one group meeting.

my friend watching A leave flowers at mrs potter's grave: A, did you kill her? did you kill that old lady? I'd forgotten how the first Haleb kiss happened

I remembered the swim meet "date" and the classic shower scene (Caleb apparently has a tattoo down there somewhere, taking suggestions on what it is)

but not that it was Hanna being super weird to him post-shower for a whole day

Caleb says "so you think you have to throw down too?" which is the funniest way to phrase it, but it works for him, Hanna cutely goes "what if I don't want to?" and then "what if I do want to?" and they get a very spin spin spin-around kiss

Next time: I think the cops are going to be mean to the girls?? which would make sense if they let spencer give an insane rant about ian as they turned in that trophy with rat blood. don't let spencer do her insane rants in front of other people, you'll learn this lesson one day

[aca-official]

An Introduction to Ars de Caelum: About the School

Ars de Caelum Academy is a college of arts that was established by its current Headmaster, Raimon Zaragosa. It is a school that accepts students from all walks of life, no matter their background, ethnicity, gender, or orientation. The academy provides the students with several resources in order to further their academic prowess in whichever field they wish to pursue. All staff and facilities are here to provide and assist so that everyone may get the equal opportunity at the education they deserve. That being said, those that break the rules and regulations set out by the school and Headmaster will be dealt with accordingly. This is to keep students safe and make sure no one, not even the faculty, can take advantage of anyone else for any reason.

About Our Campus

Ars de Caelum prides itself on an expansive, clean, and safe campus for all students to enjoy. All classes are conducted in their respective department buildings, and the dorms contain rooms of two and four, with rooms of two prioritized for third and fourth years. Although this is an art school, Ars de Caelum also provides sports related facilities and fields as well as clubs that students may be interested in. Other facilities include the studio building, where students are encouraged to practice their different crafts and share their creations or performances with the rest of the world. There is also the recreational building, where students may participate in recreational activities or rest and recuperate from their studies. Finally, there is the faculty building, where any teachers or staff may be found if students need them. The counseling office and nurse's office may also be found here.

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Departments and Classes

ACA works a bit differently from other art colleges, as it has five departments to represent the wide spectrum of artistic subjects and majors it offers. Students are sorted into departments based on which major they intend to pursue. Those who are undecided may choose a department that follows their interests in order to help them decide on a major in the meantime. If a student wishes to change to change majors, unless the major falls into the same department, the student may also have to change departments as well. Please note that just because a student has a certain major or department, doesn't mean that student isn’t allowed to take other department classes. Students are still encouraged to explore their interests, even if they've already chosen a major. However, students still must complete classes related to their major in order to graduate.

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Ars de Caelum is a four year undergraduate school, meaning that a student must complete four years total of class credit in order to graduate. As noted before, there are also a number of clubs and activities that students may take part in, and it is recommended for each student to only join about 3 clubs at the most in order to avoid burnout, and so they may have time to do their studies.

Dress Code

Students are required to wear their department colors during school hours or events. This is the academy's 'uniform' so to speak, but the dress code is actually quite flexible. Various shades, tints, and tones of colors are allowed when it comes to color clothing, as long as it's clear as to which department that the student is from (ie. the Manufactus Diepartment is allowed to wear pink because it is a tint of red). The school dress code isn’t strict as to allow students to express themselves in whichever way they please, so long as it doesn’t violate the school rules or the law.

[overthinkingfeathers]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

The always lovely @faux-fires tagged me in this, so here we go!

Were you named after anyone? I was not! I almost was; my mother’s plan from childhood to most of the way through her pregnancy was to name me after a character from her favorite musical. Then, with a month left to go, she suddenly realized no one would ever say or spell it correctly, remembered that she hated that about her own name, and changed her mind. 

When was the last time you cried? Two weeks ago. The vacuum broke, and I was trying out a new medicine that made me overemotional. 

Do you have kids? Nope. I was fortunate to find out at a young age that my body made that a non-option, and since adoption is expensive and I wasn’t firmly committed either way, it was easy to decide that just wouldn’t be part of my life. 98% of the time I think that’s the decision I would have made anyway. 2% of the time I wonder, but then a parent in my life starts talking about 3 hour long practices for Youth Sports or violating their preschool’s dress code on socks, and the feeling passes. 

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not as much as I used to. I’m really deadpan, and there have been too many times where I thought it was obvious I was joking but apparently was not. 

What's the first thing you notice about people? Hair, if it’s long. General height and build otherwise. 

What's your eye color? Blue.

Scary movies or happy endings? I’m going to have to continue the wimp train. Happy endings for sure. 

Any special talents? I don’t know if this counts as a talent, but I am mostly immune to minor injury. Not in that I don’t get them - I do, a lot - but I don’t really feel it and don’t react. Mostly I use this power to get my mom’s giant, scratchy baby of a cat to the vet and to make poor life decisions while gardening, but once I got to make a shitty magician look slightly worse. 

Where were you born? In a hospital that apparently had amazing tea when I was born but terrible tea when my brother was. 

What are your hobbies? I play video games. 

Have any pets? 5 cats, but a couple of them are less “pets” and more “polite housemates who still quietly harbor the belief that I might eat them.” I kidnapped them off the street, and they haven’t forgotten that. 

What sports do you play/have you played? Horseback riding was the only one I was big into, but I did volleyball and basketball for a while too. 

How tall are you? 5′ 8″

Favorite subject in school? Core subject? English. Electives tended to vary based on the teacher (for instance, military history is not my thing, but the teacher was great, so I liked that class), but purely in terms of material, Fire Science was interesting. 

Dream job? Pay me to pet the whale sharks please. Do they want pets? Do they like pets? I don’t know, but they look very soft. 

I am absolutely not going to tag 15 people, partly because that’s a big number and partly because I’ve seen a number of mutuals already tagged but here is a smaller list: @carinavet, @fledgling-witch, @le-claire-de-lune, @coaxionunlimited, @queen-scribbles, @haledamage, and @anyone who wants to do this regardless of mutual status.