20% Lesser
Copyright© 2024 by Eccho Steem
Anything For You
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Anything For You - Here's an mlp fanfiction because there's never been one before. Feels like there should be. Anyways, it's an au "love story" between Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash. Hope you enjoy. There will be weekly uploads if you do. So...stay tuned if you do indeed find it quite neat.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft Teenagers Lesbian Fiction Fan Fiction School Teacher/Student
-Scootaloo POV-
“I’m so proud of myself! 36 curl ups! Way more than I ever thought I could do! AND I GOT A HUG!!! A FUCKING HUG!!!! This is why Coach Dash is my favorite. She pushes me. She sees what I can do and makes me see it through. She gets me. She understands what she needs to do to get me where I need to be. It’s such a lost art nowadays with teachers. It’s so weird how it feels like I’m in a different world when I go to other classes. Ms. Pie is damn near dead. She’s so boring. Mr. Armor is too much of a newbie to really understand his students. And Ms. Aloe is too lame. Become one with myself, my ass. Coach Dash is the only teacher who knows how to do her job. I don’t think I’d be who I am without her. She’s just the best. I dunno. I think I”
I ... Do I ... love her? Is she someone I actually ... love? ... Alright, that’s enough of diary entry for now. I want juice. Juice sounds good right about now.
I close and conceal my diary before dropping down from the roof and heading downstairs for my juice. But of course, I can’t have anything without some form of obstacle. Trixie’s sitting on the couch, scrolling away on her phone. Dammit! I mean, sure, walking by her is nothing, but she’ll still try talking to me. And that’s always such a bitch. But if I want this to be over with, I gotta muscle through it. Like Coach Dash would. Probably.
So I walk through the living room, passing Trixie who’s paying me no mind as she’s too enthralled with her phone. Huh. Alright, then. All that overthinking for what? Just gotta be more confident.
However, right as my foot makes contact with the porcelain tile, I’m interrupted with a passive aggressive,
“Hey, Scootaloo.”
Yup, here we go.
“Hey, Trixie,” I answer back as I continue my pursuit to my sugary beverage,
“Got any plans for the weekend?”
“Not really. Maybe I’ll go over to Sweetie’s or Applebloom’s. Nothing crazy, though.”
“Ah. ‘Maybe’? So nothing concrete?”
Oh, I do not care for that joy in her tone at all.
“Well, they’re my girls, so it’s likely.”
“I know. I’m just making sure because what you said the other day really put things into perspective for me. So I thought we’d have our own girls’ day. Go out, grab a bite, catch a game, y’know, things like that.”
Oh, that’s ... wow. Desperation is such an ugly color. We both fucking hates sports. Who’s she trying to fool?
“I mean, those are definitely ... plans. Totally gonna think about that if these plans fall through.”
For the love of God, tell me they’re free.
“Cool. And if not this weekend, maybe next weekend or whenever you want. I just ... miss you is all. I don’t want us to drift, y’know?”
“Mmhm.”
I grab a cup along with some orange juice out the fridge and start pouring.
“Right. So just let me know when you wanna give it a shot. You know me. I’m always available. And I’m not hard to find.”
“Yyyyeeeaahhh. Sure. I’ll definitely let you know.as soon as possible.”
“Cool ... cool. I’ll be waiting.”
“I’m sure you will. Well, I just came down for some juice. Sooo ... later.”
“Oh, alright. Later.”
I then head back upstairs with my juice, thanking God that that’s finally over. Jeez, how could someone like her really have nothing better to do? Jesus, woman, get some friends. Join a book club. Fuck some guys. Get a fucking religion. Do something!
But enough about her. I don’t want her taking so much of my mental capacity. Not only because of the obvious, but also because I need to prepare for tomorrow: pull ups. The worst act to ever exist. Why it’s never been abolished should be a question for modern day philosophers. But it’s in my path and Coach Dash needs me to do it. So that’s what I’m gonna do. With ease. And vim and vigor. I’ve been on a hot streak already. I’ll be damned if I let something as dumb as pull ups put a stop to that.
I wanna die. I just wanna die. Nothing is left for me. I just wanna die right now. Just put a bullet right through my goddamn head right this second. I don’t care about the method. Just as long as I’m not in this dumbass life anymore.
“Uh ... huh,” Coach Dash remarks, driving the knife deeper in my liver as I take my place back in line, “Well, then ... I could say it could’ve been worse, but you guys know me by now. I don’t lie. Alright, moving on.”
What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?! 5?! 5 FUCKING PULL UPS?!?! FUCKING 5?!?!?! I might as well rip my arms off now! What the fuck is wrong with me?! Not even double fucking digits?! How much of a pathetic fucking loser could I possibly be?!
And if that’s not bad enough, Coach Dash’s face just says it all. That no doubt pissed her off. There’s no way she’s ever gonna let me live this down. Even when she’s focused on everyone else’s performance, it’s still clear as day that mine is still irking her to no end.
I don’t even care that Tiara is laughing at me right now. Of course, it doesn’t help that she is. But I’ve already got enough problems staring at me in the face without her ugly mug plaguing my mind. Dumb cunt. Why’d Coach Dash have to have her in her sights? She’s not even that good. I don’t care that she just did about 20 pull ups or the look on Coach Dash’s face, telling me that it brightened her mood. Nope. Don’t care at all.