#beet gut

[amalepregnancyworld]

[mikesbasementbeets]

what is even going on here lately

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Bro how would they react if they found out u got pregnant? Cuz yk their pirates and stuff so what would they do? U can do whoever but ik i want shanks, zoro, and mihawk you can do other people or not do the ones or dont do this at all👍 i want i jus want you to be comfortable writing this if you want to write it at all😭

I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH, thank you for the request!!

I just did Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk for now. May end up doing one for Sanji and Buggy as well if anyone wants, but since I ended up writing these as little short stories instead of headcanons, I just decided to focus on those three this time.

Shanks is already such a dad honestly I lub him <3

So here we gooooo

Whoops

OPLA! Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Reader

SFW, so fluffy I'm suffocating

Wordcount: 4.6k

No warnings, I think?

Zoro

It took you some time to dredge up the nerve to tell him. It was just a one night stand, after all. A lot of alcohol involved, nothing special. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him for a while, but that was in no way relevant. The incorrigible amount of liquor you had consumed had more than done the trick of acting as liquid courage, given you had awoken the next morning in his hammock, both of you stark naked, just a hungover tangle of limbs with no real memory of anything past making out on the quarterdeck while everyone else was staying the night in town.

That had been awkward enough—your eyes locking as you both stirred awake, your face turning beet reed as you scrambled off the green-haired swordsman and quickly threw on enough of your clothes to be able to safely escape, him speaking up behind you as you hurriedly dressed yourself.

“Did we—uh—”

“No idea,” had been your quick, curt response, making sure you didn’t turn around and meet his eye again. “Bye.”

“Wh—? Wait a minute—”

But you had already been out the door. You spent the following days, the following weeks avoiding being alone with the first mate of the Strawhats under any circumstance, avoiding any situation where you might have to actually talk about what had happened between the two of you.

But now you had to talk.

Middle of the night, with everyone else safely asleep so they couldn’t overhear, you stood over him as he lay asleep himself in that same hammock. You stood there for a long, tense moment, arms crossed tight over your stomach, tapping your foot lightly as you looked down at Zoro, deliberating over whether you really had the guts to go through with this.

You decide you have no choice, and you nudge his arm. “Wake up,” you say quietly.

He snores in response.

You sigh to yourself, and nudge his shoulder a little harder, say it again a little more forcefully. “Wake up, come on—”

He gives a small growl of protest at that, rolling his shoulders and stretching his toned arms out behind his head, before tucking one hand under his neck. He squints at you in the small, dark cabin, blinking slowly. The groggy, astonished sort of manner in which he mumbles your name makes your heart skip for a moment.

“Wha…?” He glances past you toward the cabin door, toward the darkness outside on the deck, and asks, “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.” He quirks an eyebrow as you toe the wooden floor, staring off to the side, biting your lip. “We…need to talk.”

“At…two in the morning,” he repeats slowly. You hum in affirmation and give a small nod, already feeling your face starting to heat up—and you hear him sigh.

Then his hand is around your forearm, and you’re gasping out in alarm as he pulls you down across his chest until your eyes are level with his, your foreheads nearly touching.

His hand slips further up your arm, up your shoulder, back behind your neck, and your blush only grows hotter as he gives you a smirk. “Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.”

And he pulls you down, seizing your lips with his own.

Your brain all but short-circuits. You can barely remember how to breathe as your thoughts whirl. He kissed you. There isn’t a drop of alcohol involved this time, and he still kissed you.

Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.

Maybe that crush of yours was more mutual than you thought it was.

Your eyes flutter shut as you melt against him and return the kiss with a slow sigh, forgetting for a moment what you were doing here in the first place, your tongues meeting and swirling together, his hand drifting down your back, curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging at it and—

And this was exactly how you got into your present predicament in the first place. You tear your lips away from his and sit up at the edge of the hammock, flinching. “No, we…” You glance over your shoulder at him, briefly meeting his eyes as he stares up at you cautiously. “We do need to talk, I…” You swallow, and decide to just rip off the bandage, just say it. “I’m late.”

He’s silent for several seconds, and as you sit there, inwardly panicking, dreading his reaction, he finally speaks up.

“What the hell could you be late for at two in the morning?”

“What—no, I—” you sputter, jerking your head to look over your shoulder at him, sharing his stare of bafflement, as you realized he had no idea what you meant. “I…my period. I—is two weeks late.”

His brow furrows for a moment as that sinks in.

And his eyes slowly widen, and you look quickly away, flinching again, hanging your head.

“O…oh.” He sits up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock to sit next to you, exhaling a slow sigh. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply in a weak sort of hum, practically a whimper, watching him run a hand back through his hair from the corner of your eye, his eyes wide, unblinking, glued to the doorframe.

“I…guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a doctor now.” You glance over at him, swallowing nervously as he gives a small, breathless laugh, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be upset about it, even angry. It was just a stupid, drunken one night stand, after all.

Wasn’t it?

Not really much to talk about. His words ring in your head as you watch him fall back across the width of the hammock with another laugh, resting a hand over his eyes. He said it right before he kissed you, sober this time, as if maybe…there was more to it than just an alcohol-fueled one off fling.

“Y…you’re not upset?” you ask carefully, looking down at him.

“Nah,” he says, laughing a little again. He lowers his hand down to rest over his abs, meeting your eyes with a little bit of a grin. “I mean, it is kinda my fault.”

“It takes two,” you point out, frowning.

“Yeah, but you were drunk.”

“We both were.”

“You were really drunk.” You purse your lips and shove at his ribs as he laughs again, sitting back up. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, sighing and shaking his head. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agree, nodding. “I guess…we talk to Chopper in the morning and…figure things out from there?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” You’re both quiet for a long moment, staring out toward the darkened deck. “You know…” You glance over when he sighs slowly again. “This crew’s…pretty much the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. That most of us have had, probably. Whatever happens with…this—we’ll all have each other’s backs.”

He isn’t at all wrong, and the thought is enough of a comfort to bring a slow sigh of relief from you as well, a small smile to your lips. You shift a little closer and rest your temple at his shoulder, your hand over his, your eyes slipping shut.

“Anyway.,,” Your eyes open when he speaks, and without warning he pushes you back down into the hammock, pressing his lips to yours—and your eyes flutter shut again as his tongue brushes your bottom lip amid the slow, playful kiss.

“Wait—” You draw back from it just as abruptly as you were drawn into it, lifting an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. “Isn’t this sort of what got us into this situation to begin with?”

“Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down to his elbow. He smirks as well, his hand resting at the crown of your hair. “But it’s not like you can get any more pregnant.”

You can’t help but giggle at that, hooking your arm around his neck and shaking your head, smiling. “Fair enough,” you agree, and lift your head to press your lips to his again.

Shanks

It all started three weeks ago, when you first missed your cycle. Your paranoia and anxiety that it could mean that, meant you had stopped drinking entirely. Shanks had been too busy to pick up on it, or simply as carefree and oblivious as ever.

But this morning you had awoken early, perhaps earlier than anyone else on the ship. You checked the position of the log posse and adjusted the course accordingly until it was pointing straight ahead again—and that was when you realized, by the sound of a match striking behind you, that you weren’t the first person awake—and someone had noticed the cessation of your drinking with the rest of the crew.

And almost the moment Benn Beckman confronted you about it, you blabbed your worries to the first mate, and you were fairly sure he nearly swallowed his cigarette.

“You’re what?”

You had joined the Red Hair pirates as a navigator around eight months ago, and had quickly fallen for the charming captain. There was no real agreement that there was anything more between the two of you than casual sex and flirting, nothing exclusive; but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the two of you were spending more and more time together, and that from an outsider’s point of view it looked a lot more like romance than anything casual.

But you were dead terrified that this news would ruin everything.

Beck just shook his head, grabbed you by the shoulder like a misbehaving child as you ranted, and walked you toward the door to the captain’s cabin. He opened it, and gestured at you to get in.

“You don’t come back out until you tell him,” he said, and you flinched at his stern tone. “Got it?”

“Got it…” you sighed wearily, hanging your head as you entered and shut the door lightly behind you. You had the idle hope that Shanks might be asleep as you entered but now, standing in the doorway, you can see clearly that he isn’t. He’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed—the same bed that you’ve been sharing every night for at least six months—and squinting at a map in the dim light of the lantern hanging from one of the bedposts, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black boxers. He looks up from it mid-yawn, and waves at you, nodding at the empty side of the bed to his right.

“You’re up awfully early,” he comments as you kick off your boots and climb into bed next to him.

“Just checking the course,” you say as he hands the map off to you—an old treasure map that you found helping clean out his rather cluttered desk a few weeks ago. “Any breakthroughs?”

“That.” He indicates a crude sketch of what appeared to be a statue. “It’s in Arabasta.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, looking over at him, and he nods slowly. “Oh, great. That’s…”

“Crocodile’s territory,” he says, as you let out a sigh that mirrors his own mildly dejected tone. “If we dock there we’ll be up to our tits in his Baroque Works wackjobs. Not that they’d pose us much of a threat, but…balance of power and all that.” He sighs himself, grabbing the map away from you again and tossing it off the side of the bed, where it flutters slowly to the floor a few feet away. “Not to mention it looks like it’s out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Not worth the time.”

“I guess not,” you say, frowning as you watch him sink back into the bed, his eyes slipping shut, unbothered by what might have been a disappointment to almost anyone else. He hadn’t mentioned the map to anyone else except for you and Beck, had kept it otherwise entirely to himself in case it did turn out to be a bust. Nothing ever really seemed to get under his skin.

You close your eyes for a long moment, bracing yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t get under his skin either. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, he speaks up himself.

“Now, something that’s much more worth my time…”

“Oh—!” You let out a small cry of alarm as he tugs you down suddenly to lie with him, and he shifts so he’s facing you, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand creeping slowly up your stomach to where the lapels of your shirt are tied shut, grinning wickedly.

“…is the beautiful woman in my bed who is, frankly, wearing far too many clothes.”

You can’t help but giggle a little as he sets straight to attacking your neck, his lips trailing down the column of your throat as he deftly works the knot loose, lightly nipping at your collarbone as he shifts you onto your back and brushes the lapels of your shirt open. Maybe you could drop it for now, just for now, you think disjointedly, your eyes slipping shut as his fingertips brush over one of the cups of your bra. Just until…

No. No, if you put it off again, you’re just going to keep putting it off.

“No—wait—” You grab his hand, pulling it away, and he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement. You swallow, glancing away for a moment before returning your gaze to meet his. “We…need to talk about something,” you say quietly.

The confusion in his eyes quickly shifts to concern at your hesitant tone, and he slowly lifts himself away from you, sitting up on his knees. “Alright,” he says, just as slowly, just as cautiously, looking at you as if you’re a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. “What exactly is it that we—”

“I’m pregnant.”

You just blurt it out, before you can stop yourself, so suddenly that Shanks stops mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widen to saucers as he gawks at you, and he blinks rapidly a few times. “B—be—beg pardon?” he stammers.

You just swallow nervously and nod—you know he heard you. He draws in a deep breath, shoulders going limp, and lets it out after a moment as a tremendous sigh, running his hand back through his hair.

It was rare, if ever, that you had seen your carefree captain in an outright panic, but seconds later he was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the cabin, his hand curled over his mouth. You sit up as well, alternating between glancing at him and staring down at your knees, your stomach tied in knots. You’re sure that this is it, this is the end, this is your final stint sailing with the Red Hair pirates. A ship is no place for a child, after all, for a baby, for a woman with child—

He stops pacing suddenly, his hand slipping down to his chin. “Midwife. We’re going to need—that’s what they’re called, isn’t it?” You lift your head, staring at him in mild alarm as he resumes pacing, now rambling aloud. “We’ll need a midwife, I hardly think Hongo’s qualified—might know someone who is, but…” He shakes his head. “Still probably a good idea for you to talk to—have you?” he asks, stopping to look over at you, and you shake your head rapidly. The only inkling you have that you are pregnant is that you’ve gone well over a month without a period; you had been far too scared to talk with the ship’s doctor about the concern, afraid that he would go straight to Shanks and you would be shoved straight off the ship at the next populated port.

“We’ll need to set that up immediately,” he half-mumbles, and resumes pacing again. “How far along do you think you are?”

“I—er—” Your head is absolutely spinning. “M…maybe eight weeks?”

“Eight? That’s two months, tha—that means there’s only seven more, we’ll need—everything, crib, clothes, probably a rocking chair…”

You listen in growing astonishment as he rapidly lists off everything, already planning far more than you had even thought to, not even the slightest bit upset. He seems almost…excited. You swallow, exhaling a slow, shaking breath, your eyes burning a little as relief floods through you.

“…diapers—” He stops in his tracks again, lowering his hand from his chin and looking at it, frowning. “How am I supposed to change a diaper with one ha—”

He looks over sharply when a small sob escapes you before you can lift your hand to muffle it. You lower your head, closing your eyes tightly, gripping at the edge of the bed as that overwhelming flood of emotion becomes too much to contain.

“Oh—sweetheart…no, no no…” You hear him sigh, his footsteps quickly crossing the room. The bed sinks beside you as he sits down and wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest and resting his hand near the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently, combing his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, we can handle this, okay?”

“I—I thought—” Your breath hitches as you turn your head so your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be mad,” you force out. “Th—that I’d—I’d have to leave and—and—”

He tightens his hold around your back, letting out a few soft chuckles and shaking his head. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to think,” he tells you.

“It…didn’t seem ridiculous to me,” you say quietly, your voice choked.

“Well, it is,” he assures you again. “I don’t—look, love.” He shifts his hand from the nape of your neck to your cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. His thumb wipes away the tears streaming down your face, and he smiles warmly. “I don’t want you anywhere but right here. With me. Okay?” Your breaths leaves you in a trembling sigh at the sincerity in his soft tone, the softness in his brown eyes as he gazes into yours. You swallow, and nod quickly, closing your eyes for a long moment.

You draw in a sharp breath in surprise when you feel his lips press lightly against yours in a slow, tender kiss that eases almost all of your tension away in an instant. one of your hands slipping from your lap to rest against his knee as your lips just barely part.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and the knots in your stomach are gone as he lowers his hand to rest it there, smiling. “And we can handle this.”

“I…I love you too,” you whisper, and his smile only broadens at that.

He kisses you again, more firmly this time, before standing suddenly from the bed.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, he’s already heading out the door of the cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, calling out loudly, “Lads, I have an anno—where is everyone?”

You hear Beck scoff from somewhere nearby. “It’s four in the damn morning,” he says. “Probably sleeping.”

“Ah. Right.” A brief pause, and then Shanks goes on, so happily you can practically hear him grinning, “I’m going to be a dad.”

“Yeah,” says Beck. “Congratulations. Now maybe go put on some damned pants.”

“…Right.”

Mihawk

You already know he isn’t going to be happy. After your first missed period, you mentioned children. Merely in passing.

And he had immediately expressed his gratitude that there would never be any of the vile creatures roaming the halls of his castle.

Another three weeks, and you don’t have a choice but to bring it up. You’re losing sleep over it and he’s noticed, because of course he’s noticed. Mihawk doesn’t seem to miss anything, where you’re concerned—except perhaps this, which he seems to have not one single suspicion of.

You lay back on a plush sofa in one of the dens, your head resting in his lap as he sips a cup of coffee and flips through the newspaper, your eyes barely open. All you want to do is sleep. You’ve barely slept in a damned week, his words haunting you every time you do, his potential reaction to this upheaval of the peaceful existence you have both lived at his castle for the past several months.

“It’s likely because you’ve stopped having a glass of wine before bed,” he says, and you sigh to yourself. You had outright lied on that account, told him that for no reason you could discern you were suddenly getting horrible headaches any time you consumed even a drop of alcohol. “It’s been almost two months, you could try again.”

“N…no,” you say. “I can’t.”

He lifts the newspaper and glances down at you, lifting his eyebrows—waiting for you to elaborate. It’s now or never. You pull yourself up, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your body to meet his eyes as he looks at you in growing perplexity, his sharp eyes darting briefly down from your gaze as you bite your bottom lip lightly.

“I…can’t because…” You’re already feeling lightheaded, already reeling from the threat of what may come to pass. “Because I’m pregnant.”

His eyes remain locked onto yours for several tense seconds. He slowly folds down his newspaper and sets it aside on the end table. Slowly, gently as if you’re made of porcelain, he moves a hand down to your shoulder and lightly pushes you up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth, lifting his hand as if about to speak…and closes it again.

He tries once more, and words seem to fail him yet again.

And then he stands from the couch abruptly, without a word, and strides out of the room.

You’re fairly sure you know where he’s headed. You pull in a slow, deep breath, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability, before your rise to follow him. Surely enough, as you expected, you find him in the kitchen, pulling the cork out of a half-full bottle of wine. He glances briefly over his shoulder as you enter.

“How did this happen?” His tone is level, but you notice how he fills his wine glass nearly to the rim.

“Well, you see, when a man and a woman—” The glare he levels upon you shares none of your attempted humor, so you just sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island and crossing your arms. “Probably after that warlord meeting a couple months ago?”

“…Ah.”

That’s all he says on that matter—there isn’t much else to say. Whatever had happened at the meeting was a mystery to you, but it evidently had gone very poorly and been an absolute waste of his time, as he had returned to Kuraigana Island that evening in a bit of a foul mood and set immediately to downing two and a half bottles of wine. You had joined him in the endeavor, and the rest of the night was more than a bit of a blur. You only really knew that you both woke up on a couch rather than your bed the following morning, that you yourself could barely walk from the stiffness in your thighs, and that you had both bickered lightly through your shared hangover about who was going to get up to make coffee, before both giving up and going back to sleep for more than half the day.

“Well. This is…”

He doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it is, so he takes a sip from his overfull wine glass instead, leaning back against the counter opposite you, staring at the wall but clearly not actually seeing it. His eyes are far away, unfocused.

“…unexpected,” he finishes finally.

And takes another sip of wine.

“Mmhmm,” you hum in agreement, both your hands gripping at the counter behind you. You pull yourself up to sit there, your gaze glued to him, carefully studying his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but there’s nothing—just that blank, miles away stare. “S…so…what do you…what should we…” His eyes shift over to you, but only briefly, before shifting down to his wine glass.

“I…” He cringes slightly before going on, as if the admission physically pains him, “…don’t know.”

You know there are two things that Mihawk hates above all else in life—unexpected news, and a lack of control. Right now, experiencing both at once in tremendous measure, you can almost see the thin thread of his patience beginning to fray, and you aren’t sure what might happen when it breaks.

You swallow nervously, lowering your eyes when his gaze shifts over to you again.

You hear him sigh in resignation.

“We’ll need to find a doctor immediately to be sure,” he says curtly, and you give a stiff nod in agreement, glancing up at him. He’s staring down at his wine glass again, and continues to do so in silence for several long, tense seconds.

“You’re angry,” you say quietly. He sighs again, shaking his head, and sets the glass on the counter behind him. Your eyes fall to your knees once more as he crosses the kitchen toward you, and shift over to your hand when he rests his over it.

“Not with you,” he says lightly. There’s something different about his tone, but it isn’t anger. It almost frightens you more when you recognize it as uncertainty. You’ve never seen him uncertain about anything.

He pulls your hand lightly, and you slip off of the counter and onto your feet, sighing slowly yourself as he tugs you back against him, his arm curling around your waist. He brushes your hair behind your ear, behind your shoulder, and your eyes slip shut as his lips graze your neck. “I’m not sure if I possess the skillset necessary to be a very…adept parent,” he murmurs.

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, relaxing back against him as his lips brush your neck again, a silent reassurance that he genuinely isn’t upset with you. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You rest one of your hands over his at your waist; and you bring your other up, curling your fingers in his hair near his temple. “I can hear it now,” you say airily, smirking a little, and you go on in a mimicry of his dry, deadpan tone, “’Now, now, we’ve already established Daddy’s cross necklace is not a toy.” You giggle at his irritated sigh, as he pulls his arm tighter around your waist.

“Then again,” he says, “I do have to deal with you being a brat every day and I’ve yet to murder you.”

“See?” You pat his cheek lightly, and he grabs your hand to stop you. “Good practice.” You lean to the side a bit and turn your head, smirking at the wry look he gives you, and pressing your lips to his lightly for a moment. He exhales a slow sigh as your lips part, tilting his head forward until your foreheads touch. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmur softly.

“Yes…” His fingers lace through yours. “I suppose we will.”

[trixieyoo]

( ♡ ) MHA X DEADPOOL! READER

Including - Izuku Midoryia, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, & Eijiro Kirishima! How do these boys deal with a GN!reader that has a personality and quirk just like Deadpool? (Can be read as platonic & romantic!)

♡ . . IZUKU MIDORYIA –

This poor boy is so worried, just because you can regenerate, doesn't mean you should be careless!

Almost had a heart attack the first time he saw you with a lost arm

Your cheeky self waved at him with said lost arm

Gets so flustered by all your out of pocket remarks

He tries his absolute hardest not to laugh when you guys are fighting a villain and you call them the most foul insult known to man

When your injuries take longer than normal to regenerate, he does nawt!! leave your side

♡ . . KATSUKI BAKUGO –

You guys are literally Deadpool and wolverine.

At first he hears about your quirk, and thinks you may be a respectable rival

And then he meets you

You having a smart mouth, can't resist the urge to make him mad, it's just too easy!!

Eventually you grow on him and he has a love hate relationship with you

Every time you regenerate he calls you a "freak"

Causing you to crack some silly jokes (that make his face go beet red)

He refuses to admit your jokes fluster him

Enjoys making fun of villains with you!

♡ . . SHOTO TODOROKI –

Does not get most of the stuff you say

He thinks your quirk is unique, admires your carefree personality

Your costume choice is... odd to him

When you explain that it's red so the enemies can't tell you're bleeding, he's even more confused

Everyone knows someone bleeds when they get stabbed after all

Though you're loud, he finds you interesting

Does not understand how someone can have so much energy

And such a high pain tolerance...

♡ . . EIJIROU KIRISHIMA –

Admires your confidence!

Finds it funny how your quirks contrast

You two are both equally reckless, but he's got your back!

During training you two don't hold back one bit, by the end of your session both of you are tuckered out!

As for your language...

He thinks you've got GUTS!!

You can just casually call someone out in such a funny way, so manly!

Likes that you two match in the color red

You guys are THE duo

[mysticmunson]

walls of jericho (e.m.)

summary: eddie's guard has been up for everyone, but you make his reservations tremble, and he doesn't know what to think of that.

authors note: hi i wrote this and it's very angsty. the semester is finally done so i'll hopefully be around more :) much love. xx elora. (my blog is 18+)

warnings: allusions to smut, angst, eddie being bad w emotions :( (there’s a happy ending) eddie is 22 and reader is 21 :)

thank u to my loves @lilacletter @bimbobaggins69 and @andvys who i spoke about this fic with! :D

As soon as the words left your mouth, Eddie thought he was dreaming, that you weren’t sitting on his bed and timidly asking him a question he never expected. You nervously twisted the hem of your black cotton skirt, not daring to look into his eyes that widened with surprise.

“Will you take my virginity, Eds?”

He knew you were having a hard time intimately as you told him almost everything, with a few failed dates ending with a peck on the cheek. As you both grew older, it became more embarrassing for you to be so inexperienced, even if he assured you it was fine.

Perhaps it was a stupid idea that shouldn’t have been announced, but his response made it even worse after he was assured you were being serious.

“Only if nothing changes then okay.”

His hands roamed to uncharted territories, feeling how your skin warmed beneath him and your breath staggered. His lips touched yours for the first time after years of only meeting the apples of your cheeks.

Your voice bounced from your chest as he entered you, the soft hymns of your pleasure clashing with the harshness of his room. He hushed your winces as you accommodated to his latex-covered cock, never more vulnerable than at this minute. 

His bister eyes bore into yours, mouths agape as your breath exchanged for gasps, while he was applying pressure to the bundle of nerves beneath your navel. Bliss arose from thin air as you finished, his hips stuttering shortly after as some of his body weight remained on you. 

As his nose pressed to your ear, he knew he fucked up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move until you squirmed. Rolling to his side, he didn’t meet your gaze that shot at the side of his cheek. 

“How was it?” You asked meekly, pulling his sheets to your chest to cover yourself, adjusting to the viability of his old pillow. 

“Good, you’ll make a dude real happy.” He quipped, staring at the popcorn ceiling above him, not daring to welcome the immense warmth he felt coating his gut. He told himself it was because he was in orgasmic bliss and that he knew you’d delight someone with your body.

The night went on after clothes returned to both of your bodies, he noticed your abnormally quiet demeanor, but decided you must be a little shocked at the recent events until you went to leave.

“You make me happy, Eddie.”

He shrugged, mumbling a ‘you too’ as he yanked off his shirt from today and put on an older band tee with a hole on one of the seams. He’d remove his sweatpants once you left.

“No, Eds, I mean… You make me really happy, I like you.” You spoke, sounding celestial in a cream-white blouse. With the look he gave you during sex, it gave you the motivation to speak your mind, but now with his silence, it felt grim. “Please say something.”

His back was to you now, looking down at the wrinkled sheets, cursing the fact he let it get this far. He couldn’t face his emotions now, he needed to be alone.

“You didn’t say anything.” He stated coldly, but you awaited some hope, that this couldn’t be the result. “The one thing I said was that nothing changed.”

“Nothing has changed, Eddie, it’s just-” You consoled, but the burn behind your iris’ were betraying you.

“No!” He snapped, turning to face you with beet-red cheeks, “I told you no feelings, don’t try to make me the bad guy. You’re my best friend and we need to agree that you didn’t just say that, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that he stomped to his front door and swung it open, waiting for your heavy footsteps to leave in embarrassment. His head hit the door as it shut, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut. It was for the best, he’s doing this for both of you.

That was hard to believe as he heard your choked cry before your car purred, pulling from the trailer park until it became a small light near the highway. Grabbing a beer, he switched on a record and took off his pants. 

He lit the rolled blunt tucked in his bedside table and took a deep hit, feeling his fingers tingle as he vanished into the thrashing of Steven Duren through his boombox. The walls of Jericho etched inside of his mind teetered, but never fell and he wouldn’t let that happen.

The barriers within him remained stagnant as he went through the next week, remaining his chaotic self on the battlefields of Hawkins. He showed up full of energy for Hellfire, only earned one day of detention, and sold to more clients than normal.

Meanwhile, the drive home was one of the most humiliating moments of your life, trudging inside your apartment and getting in the shower. It was foolish to believe he liked you this way, just based on how kind he was with you. Your stomach churned at the thought of him looking at other women as he did to you, that every ounce of sincerity you believed was contrived.

The week came and went as you worked and caught up on school, focusing on that instead of on yourself. How sometimes you could smell his cologne from his presence weeks ago, feeling the grazing embrace at encompassed your shaking frame only to be left alone in your bedroom.

You had called Robin and Steve to catch up as they missed movie night the Friday before, the night you and Eddie became closer then further than ever. The diner floors were freshly waxed, your shoes announced your presence before you could say hello.

“Hey, what’s up?” Robin questioned as you sat, “Where’s Freakazoid?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, grabbing the plastic-covered menu, and looking at the fake images of the food that wouldn’t hit your table. The mention of Eddie made you queasy, anxiously pondering if every time you left your apartment is when he would call, but each time, the call log remained barren.

“What? You two are inseparable, I thought you held hands when you pissed.” Steve joked, but was genuinely curious about the metalhead’s disappearance. 

Robin and Steve hadn’t seen Eddie since last week when he returned a VHS copy of a western that Wayne liked. Nothing seemed peculiar and they told him why they couldn’t make it to movie night a few days later as Robin got a B on her calculus test. Her grades seemed to be the one thing her mother focused on, so she was grounded aside from work. 

Your continued silence made them confused further, looking at one another to see if there was a missing component, but nothing was transmitted. A waitress came by to collect your order before heading off, coming back briefly to give you your drink.

“What happened?” Steve asked, noticing your shoulders tensing and scratching at your collarbone. 

The humility was consuming you, unable to pick up your phone and call him, the number you knew by heart. The self-confidence that you had been working on vanished over a few sentences, your face shoved into your pillow as you drifted into the white noise.

“Nothing, just needed some space.” You disclosed, revealing the slight truth without too much of the bigger picture. 

“Lies. Lies. Lies.” Robin bites with no malice, sipping her Dr. Pepper from the glass cup, “You’re acting weird, don’t act weird, that’s hair’s job.” Steve elbowed her arm at the dig, scoffing as he drank his Coke, fidgeting with his watch. 

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue, knowing it would feel better to remove it from your sole subconscious, but it also held a bomb. One that would reveal the intimacies, your naivety, and Eddie’s coldness. The two were a sarcastic pairing, but they weren’t cruel.

“Eddie and I slept together, my first time.” You mumbled, looking at the gold dainty rings on your fingers before up as Steve choked on his drink, not expecting the answer. He would’ve heard of it from his friend, surely, but he also knew you wouldn’t lie.

“What the- So what happened?” Robin caught herself, seeing your defeated expression as you drew shapes on the table with your fingers.

The hardest part became lodged in your throat, constantly in an internal battle of if Eddie was being cruel or honest or some odd combination. His words were blunt, but he began with them. It was you who spoke out of turn, but it felt so cruel.

“I told him I liked him,” You whispered, the wavering in your voice rising, “He told me we agreed on no feelings and that he wouldn’t be made the bad guy. He made me agree that I never said anything, but he hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

 Looking dumbfounded, the pair opened their mouths to provide comfort, but the waitress returned with their meals. For Robin, a plate of pancakes, and for you and Steve, two burgers and fries. Grabbing the ketchup, you tapped the bottom of the glass to slide some out.

“Shit, Y/N,” Robin breathed out, eyes still widened, “I’m sorry that’s-“

 The sound of your drink hitting the table ceased her reply, though the action wasn’t done with intention on your part. 

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said anything, he said from the beginning he didn’t…” You trailed, eating a fry to push the wail down your scratching throat, “Like me.”

Wiping his mouth with the white napkin, Steve scoffed, pointing in your direction. “Don’t, he’s being a total jackass! He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” 

Nodding, you let Robin divert the conversation to something else that consumed her mind, more than happy to think of anything, but those brown eyes looking in yours. Halfway through a story about an interesting couple that made their way to the beaded back section of Family Video, you excused yourself to the restroom. 

Waiting a brief moment, neither one of them could hold back the commentary they desperately wanted to spill, but refraining for your own well-being. 

“What is his problem!” Robin scoffs, shoving a syrup-covered bite in her mouth, “He had to have known how she felt, I mean, she’s not exactly the best about holding her love back.”

It was true, you were affectionate to people you cared for, and Eddie was one of your closest friends. You had seen him at his lowest and highest, for every midnight drive and stroll in the mall. You didn’t falter your affection when kids began to tease you both with Eddie receiving the brunt, choosing to stay at his side. 

The feelings were contemplated for years, many mocking your demeanor in which you would shrug off their teasing. But the constant reminder of how you did act differently with him lingered until one day you sat across from him silently as he wrote out his latest DnD campaign that you knew. It scared you, but somehow being hurt by him would be okay in your mind if it meant you could have him briefly.

“It’s weird as hell, man. I’m gonna talk to him, it’s not fair to her.” Steve mused, sympathizing with the abandonment of a first lover not reciprocating their feelings.

While Steve’s first had been a random girl at a party, he still experienced immense pain sitting beside her in geometry. He didn’t even want to conceptualize the pain you must be enduring, hoping it would vanish rather than fester. 

After you returned, the discussion resumed about strange customers and annoying strangers until there were only crumbs and reminisce of syrup. 

Waving goodbye, you went back home, the quiet car ride reminding you too much of that day just last week that had you crying all over again. 

Steve dropped Robin off at home before driving to Forest Hills with Eddie’s van nowhere to be seen. Groaning, he smacked the steering wheel, now deadset on finding his friend before the sun went down. 

As he went through town, he looked for the car, stumbling across the record store sticker between a Radio Shack and Dairy Queen. Spotting his target, he pulled into the parking lot and headed inside, the dust swirling as the wind brushed past the old types of vinyl. 

A girl with long black hair was talking to Eddie, feeling his muscles through his leather jacket and fluttering her eyelashes. He watched as she noticed the time, scribbling down a series of numbers.

“I’d love to see you play sometimes, I’ve heard great things about going backstage.” She purred, her voice becoming louder as Steve snuck closer, only appearing when she had vanished.

Grabbing the small paper from his friend's hand, he shoved it in his pocket and crossed his arms. He resembled an upset parent, too tired to deal with bullshit, but caring too much to let it go unnoticed. 

“Hey! Man, what the fuck?” Eddie exasperated, holding his arms up, “Give me that.” 

“No, not until you explain why the hell you’d say that to her.” Steve stated, raising his brows in anticipation. 

What excuse could he possibly give for viciously rejecting his best friend and having a random girl touching him up in a public place, all within days. 

“What? How did you even hear, I thought it was just the two of us in here until you showed up! Honestly thought she’d give me head in the bathroom-“ Eddie began smugly, smirking at how she came onto him on her own accord.

“Oh my God, I don’t care about her, I mean our best friend who’s been crying for a week.” Steve clarified, grimacing at his words.

He didn’t miss as his friend’s face went slightly pale, arms falling to his side, looking to the side at the selection of 1960s hits. 

“It’s none of your business, nothing even happened.” He huffed, turning on his heels before his Reeboks scuffed out of the old building, but Steve was hot on his tail. He never realized how broad his friends' strides were until now, barely able to climb into his passenger door unwarrantedly.

Eddie huffed, his finger tapping against the leather steering wheel cover that was beginning to peel. Steve stared at his profile, anticipating some form of reaction that would involve a yell, but the silence felt heavier.

“Get out of my car, man.” Eddie sighed, looking over at his friend, “I wanna go home and smoke.”

Steve shrugged, stepping from the van and slamming the door, retreating back to his BMW. He clicked the button before pulling away, leaving Eddie in the parking lot with the other older cars.

Truthfully, Eddie should’ve anticipated that Steve wouldn’t give up that easily. So when the BMW pulled into the trailer park moments after Eddie had, he acted annoyed, but let him inside anyways. 

“Don’t be stingy, I want hits too.” Steve said, walking behind him and into his room which had clothes scattered against the ground and beer cans on the dresser. 

“Don’t get fucking pushy, Harrington, why should I give you my good weed?” Eddie questioned, biting words as he pulled out his grinder.

Sitting beside the other man, he began twisting the silver container, hearing the small blades slice the fresh bud that he could smell.

“I just want to know what happened, calm the fuck down. And I should get your good weed because my high school parties made you so much money!” Steve retorted, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, making sure his shoes hung off the bed.

This was true, Eddie was able to help Wayne with bills during high school because of their unspoken deal. Steve would keep the assholes away from Hellfire if Eddie sold him good weed and sold the rest at Steve’s parties. It was a just arrangement and became the building blocks of a peculiar friendship.

The pair sat with just the sound of the old AC machine filling the space as Eddie took rolling paper and set it on his thigh. Years of practice came in handy, assembling the blunt in record-breaking time and lighting it with the lighter from his right pocket. 

Taking a hit, Steve remembered why he used to smoke frequently, it was soothing. Definitely much easier to take than alcohol which left him groggy and nauseous the following morning.

“So?” Steve began as his friend's shoulders visibly tensed, taking a deep drag and holding it in his chest before it seeped through his cracked lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie falsely assured, picking at a piece of skin beside the nail of his middle finger, and looking down at his lap.

“Cut the crap, dude.” Steve snapped, but regained slight composure at the reminder that Eddie would likely not respond well to hostility, “She told me and Robin what happened.”

The forced laugh sounded bizarre, but he kept up the facade of being annoyed with you for being hurt. In reality, the thought that you went to someone else with a problem instead of him gnawed at him, but it was only because he was the problem.

“I told her from the beginning I didn’t want anything to change, it wasn’t a crime.” Eddie scoffed, gulping when he remembers the disappointment in your eyes, a similar one being in his friends.

He feels a set of chills when he faintly hears your cries from outside his front door in the back of his mind, the smoke on the exhale burning more than usual. He kicked off his tennis shoes, thudding on the floor and rolling twice over. Crossing his legs. he picked at the cut on his hand-ripped jeans.

Steve looked at his friend in silence, the smoke blurring some of his features in the dim light of his room. He wanted to get angry at his words, but he had known him for a few years now and knew there were layers to his emotional presentation.

“What did she say?” Eddie caves, hearing the thumping against his chest in an anxious manner, taking another hit to combat the nerves.

“She said you took her virginity and when she said she liked you, you said you agreed no feelings, that you wouldn’t be made into the bad guy, and that you both need to pretend she didn’t say it.” Steve sighed as his friend winced subtly at the venom in those words, the awaited guilt bubbling, “Remember how Mary made you feel?”

Eddie’s throat constricts at the mention of the mysterious woman he met one night at a bar near Indianapolis, a spur-of-the-moment road trip to see a band he liked when he came across Mary. She had no idea he was seen as a loser and that he was a virgin, she came onto him and he was thriving.

After a quick fuck in the back of his van, he felt overwhelmed as she slipped out the door. His face was flushed as he adjusted his clothes, tossing the condom in a plastic bag he got from the gas station. When he asked if she wanted his phone number, she laughed, pulling down her shirt.

“I don’t roll like that, loverboy.” And she was gone. The intimacy they shared made him believe this was unlike any other time, that she truly was becoming infatuated with him, but she left without a trace.

He hoped he’d be able to win her over until she saw her going into another guy's car, speeding off to the sound of Aerosmith. 

The memory upset him, he didn’t like being vulnerable during sex afterward, only doing quick fucks where they both understood what they were agreeing to. The mere mention of her name put him back in that spot, sitting in silence as he watched her walk back into the club.

“That’s not the same thing.” Eddie cringed, passing the weed to his friend who took the final hit before putting it out in the ashtray. Despite the alleviating drug, they both felt the pressure of the actions and the reciprocations.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Steve accepted, giving his friend confusion for a moment, “It’s actually much fucking worse.” 

Eddie’s blood began to boil as his insecurity soared, Steve was one of the only people who knew about the incident with Mary, and he only discovered it after Eddie accidentally revealed he wasn’t a virgin anymore. He tried to avoid the harsh rejection, but it was hard to explain the story without it.

“No, it was not, asshole!” Eddie rejected, crossing his arms like a petulant child, that resentment of that night and every time someone left him hanging knotted in his body.

“Really? It’s not?” Steve taunted as Eddie shook his head, “Fucking a stranger and them leaving is worse than being your best friend’s first, someone who stood by you through every time you got yourself into trouble, and when they opened up, you raised your voice at them and said they never said anything?”

The reality of Eddie’s words swiftly made him lose his breath, running a hand through his curls, catching on one of his gaudy rings. Removing his finger, he pulled it from his hair, fiddling with the silver band with a small bat engraving.

The ring had been a gift on Eddie’s 16th birthday from you, secretly saving up most of your money from your summer job to pay for it, and one he never took off. 

“Why’d you say it?” Steve asked gently, “It’s not like you man, especially not with her.”

“The last thing I need is to lose her, the greedy part of me couldn’t stomach the thought of her being with someone else either.” He revealed, inadvertently revealing his feelings, “No one would’ve treated her right for her first time.”

“I know you don’t want to tell me how you feel, but you need to tell her. What you did was really fucked up.” Steve added, “It’s okay to be scared, but it’s not fair to hurt people who weren’t. She worked up a lot of courage to do that.”

The mention of courage almost broke his composure, recalling every time you mentioned being terrified of rejection. That your crush on Matthew in freshman year ended terribly when someone told him your feelings, leading to him mocking you in front of everyone.

He hated that he was added to the list of men who did you wrong, even after wanted to beat up every single one before him. He needed to make this write somehow or, at least, soften the aftermath. He had to be something he grew to despise, vulnerable.

Days went by before Eddie finally found the strength to approach you, a sick feeling in his belly that he couldn’t shake as every night passed. He approached your door Thursday evening, his boots sounding against the hollow apartment hallway. He ignored the hidden key by his foot as he knocked, one he would’ve used weeks ago.

The door flew open, the breeze blowing some of the hairs from your glowing face, resting your shoulder against the wood. He fought the urge to slump his shoulders when he saw your face slightly fall, mouth opening to see the tip of your teeth.

“Hey, kid, can we talk?” He adjured, his leather jacket making his skin heat further under the nerves.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You murmured, moving back to allow him in, shutting the door behind him as you went to the living room.

The room was spacious, with a couch from the 70s you had found at a garage sale that Eddie helped you transport it to your home, decorated with blankets and pillows, and a boxy television.

Both of you sat down on the couch, your bare knee touching his denim-clad one, but to his dismay, you move it quickly. He watches as you fidget with your fingers, looking down at your lap.

“How are you?” He asked, scratching his collarbone that had been exposed by his stretched shirt collar. 

“I’m fine,” You nodded, “How are you?”

The response was polite, but it wasn’t you. The tight-lipped smile was a facade, not comparable to the radiance your laugh exuted. 

“M’okay, wanted to talk to you though.” He replied, turning towards you with a knee on the cushion.

“Okay, I just have a, uh, date tonight so it can’t be too long.” You disclosed, turning towards him as his face dropped, the blood in his veins freezing.

Opening his mouth to respond, he nodded, beginning to play with the rings on his fingers. 

A date. You have a date. How could he interject this? What good is it to pour his heart out when you have someone getting ready to see you. He wasn’t one to harbor regrets, but now, he wished more than ever that he hadn’t done what he did. 

In that same vein, he also knew he was shit at masking something he cared about when looking them in the eyes. He couldn’t walk out of here with that same weight on his chest. He needed to wrap it in a bow and leave it at your feet as you chose to share it or throw it away. No matter what, it wasn’t just his anymore.

“I’ve been a dick,” Eddie conceded, “I’m sorry for running last week, you didn’t deserve that. I fucked up.”

Even when mad at him, he watched as you softened at his self-depreciation, something you fought with him about. It scared him sometimes when he would realize just how much power you gave one another with the other.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. At all.” He expresses, the intensity not waning, “As weird as it sounds, I got angry because I knew I felt the same, but I know me. I know my track record, how nothing good ever lasts, and how I screw it up eventually. I- I just can’t lose you.”

Looking at him with a perplexed stare, he saw you contemplating if he was being genuine. You never doubted his sincerity till now, but he could understand why.

“You’re incredible, I don’t know why you’ve been my friend for so long, and why you would let me be your first time.” He exhaled, the faintest smile that didn’t brush his dimples, “You excite me, enchant me, but you scare me.”

Standing to pace, he ran a hand through his valleys of curls, “You scare me because when I was inside you and any other time before, I couldn’t fucking think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” The tears he hadn’t released in years burned as he choked, avoiding your eyesight.

“I know you have a date, so I’m going to go, but I-” He stopped when he saw your feet near his. 

He looked up just before you met his lips, hugging him like a vice as he returned it, trapping each other. The shock of what you were doing was prevalent as his lip quivered, hungrily meeting yours.

“I like you too, Eddie. That didn’t change.” You murmured against him as he said a quick reply and kissed you, “I’ve liked you for longer than I’d like to admit.”

Not giving you time to jump, he yanked up your thighs that soon wrapped around his waist. He, thankfully, knew the inside of your apartment like the back of his hand and found your bedroom quickly.

Before he set you down, he pulled away, almost moaning at your puffy lips and glistening eyes. 

“What about your date?” 

The warmth rose to your cheeks as you pulled yourself closer to his chest, staring downwards. “I lied, I just wanted to see you jealous.”

The fake squawk of repulsion from him made you bite back a smile, seeing his brown eyes enlarged and his pink lips expanded. He dropped you to your bed suddenly, but his body covered yours soon after. 

“Well, mission accomplished, I wanted to slash his tires.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your giggle, “You’re an absolute, menace.” 

As the laughter subsided, the look in his eyes softened as the walls of Jericho fell to rubble. You could see the soft slivers of light brown within, the glass-like quality of the eyes you could see with your own closed.

Pushing his hair back from his face as he did yours, it was almost like seeing one another for the first time. Practically every other aspect of yourselves had been revealed to one another except that one small part. The part that contained the future you had no idea existed yet. 

It was in that moment he felt complete tranquility, that everything he fought so hard to protect was safely nestled within your grasp, but he also knew you had been holding it for quite some time now.

“I want you to make love to me, Eddie.” You whispered, your breath fanning his face and stroking all stress-driven crease etched on him.

His agreement was sealed with his mouth, kissing down your neck, lingering on the sensitive points that derived a louder whimper than the one before it. As your eyes fluttered closed, a sharp bite hit your earlobe, making you squeal.

“Eds!” You squirmed, but it was no match for when he placed all his body weight on top of you with a laugh that vibrated you.

“That’s for getting me riled up about your nonexistent boyfriend.” He teased, kissing behind your jaw, rubbing his nose against the soft skin.

“I mean, now I do have a boyfriend.” You sighed, turning your head to meet his throat as he rose, cheek pressing to your forehead. Your lips were so delicate, the scraps of lip balm went to his reddened neck, nibbling on his collarbone.

“Really? Who?” He joked, expecting an extravagant response as he had given you, but he was always surprised by you.

The legs on the bed quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against your core and hands went up his shirt, nails scratching his broad back just enough to leave a temporary mark.

Moaning unabashedly, he buckled his hips against you, fist tightening. Sitting up he tossed his shirt to the ground, smirking as you looked at his body in awe, licking your lips. 

He stood to pull off his jeans, getting his right foot stuck in the tight material. Kicking it off in frustration, you watched fondly at his struggle, removing your own clothes until clad in undergarments.

When freed from the denim, he was about to crawl on top of you before he scanned your body, mumbling a blend of curses. Yet, you sat with a shy smile, giggling at his affections toward you. 

“Oh, you’re gonna ruin me, kid.”

hi im giving you a hug.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Taco Tuesday: Hazbin Hotel

Angel: (busts into the hotel with five bags of Taco Hell) Bitches, prepare your guts! It's Taco Tuesday!

Husker: Motherfucker, it's fuckin' Thursday.

Angel: To-may-to, po-tay-to, you gonna help me demolish $100 hellbucks worth of bad fast food Mexican or not?

Husker: .......Put me in.

Angel: (tosses bag to Husk) Here, go!

Cherri: I'm all in, dickhead! Toss me a bag!

Angel: (tosses another bag to Cherri) Here ya go!

Charlie: I'll have one or two if you're offering. I've never had Taco Hell before.

Angel: (throws three individual tacos to Charlie) Head's up!

Charlie: Ah! Ouph! (fumbling the tacos) Shit! I got 'em!

Angel: Al, ya in or what?

Alastor: You wouldn't catch me double dead eating that garbage.

Angel: What? You can eat rotten deer, but Taco Hell is too gross for ya? Hmph! (drops a bag in Vaggie's lap) Here ya go, Vags.

Vaggie: Wow, way to just assume I would want my own bag. Is that you being sexist or racist?

Angel: Realist. I've seen you demolish a whole pot of taco meat during monthly taco nights here when you think no one's lookin'.

Vaggie: And I fully intend to obliterate this bag, which doesn't change my initial statement. (unwraps a taco and practically inhales it)

Angel: Yeah, that's what I thought. Big Daddy Luci want in?

Charlie: (slowly eating her first taco and shakes her head) Mm-mm. Dad doesn't do well with spices or hispanic cuisine in general.... or fast food....

Angel: Alright, well, we got a spare bag for anyone who wants more. (digs into his own bag)

Husker: (unwraps a taco and tilts his head left and right to figure out how he wants to eat) Hmmmm.... When you guys eat a taco, do you tilt your head left or right?

Vaggie: (already halfway through her bag) Neither, the thighs typically keep my head firmly in place.

-Record Screech-

Hazbins: (absolutely shocked)

Charlie: (beet red and horns out as she hides behind a taco wrapper)

Vaggie: .......I said that out loud, didn't I?

Angel: Yeah, you did! Hahahahahahaha!!! Playing up that stereotype, ain'tcha, bitch?! This is almost as good as Selma Hayek playing the lesbian taco in "Sausage Party"!!!

[bitchlessdino]

Imagine taking Seungkwan’s virginity to humiliate his bully at work. You’ve worked at this movie theaters for a few months now and have taken a liking to Seungkwan who always seem to know the best times to catch a film in an empty theater. A colleague of the establishment—speaking of him with more respect than he deserves—belittles Seungkwan for such a childish trait, disregarding many of his other likable qualities.

You, having enough of this degrading bullshit and you happen to know that the bully took a liking to you. You take matters into your own hands by deciding to take advantage of Seungkwan’s expertise and invite him to an empty theater of his choosing during work hours, picking the most boring and least anticipated film going on. He doesn’t think much of it, rather anticipates your offer a great deal, and quickly jumps at your request, allowing you to take the lead.

As the lights dim, you take it slow, peppering hints your excitement to do more than enjoy a featured film, and you feel him stiffen in your touch. He looks at you, pondering what was going on in your mind before blatantly asking you directly, focused more on the rate of his heart beat than what was occurring in the movie.

Drawing a soft smile to his ear, you tell him your true intention before his face is beet red, unsure if he heard right.

“Y-you want to what?”

“Seungkwan,” you chuckle, you pressed close enough for your shoulder to brush against his. “I want to feel you inside my guts while the movie plays.”

You see the shadow of his Adam’s apple shift as his hands grip at the end of the arm chair. He has yet responded to you, eyes scouring over your features to look for a sign of jest and failing. Gently, you approach his gentle gaze with pursed lips, brushing against his soft touch. Your nose tickle against his and you feel his ceased breath, reluctant about proceeding until his inhibitions roam free, claiming you in his soft mold.

The film drowns out in the background and it feels as it’s truly only you and him, lushly bonding with the act of liplock as his tongue desperately penetrating past your lips. His body naturally follows you, clammy hands timidly taking your hips, and feet anxiously fighting against the floor.

Finally, you lift yourself off your seat and into his, knees digging into the cushion of either his sides, and yourun your hands through his hair, feeling the stiffened brush of his erection take residence in his black jeans.

Hearing his whines of ache and desire, you drop your weight in his lap, vibrating against his size until only thing left in the theater was the sound of the forgotten movie, waves of the delight and pleasure, and the scent confidence brewing within Seungkwanas he releases it inside you.

The following day, when the colleague tries to insult him once more, you make it very clear that that was a topic that he couldn’t touch anymore and with that, Seungkwan turn into crimson, hiding behind your frame his sweet smile of gratification.

And that bully never had anything to say again.

[syrupfog]

Sanji who just wants a job as a sous chef but has yet to be hired, but has somehow managed to enter the world of being a private chef for extremely wealthy families. 

He hates them they remind him of childhood but he needs the cash. 

He starts working for Mihawk.

Mihawk who only eats odd, simple foods. Things that Sanji feels insulted to make. A LOT of toast with cream cheese and jam, honestly. 

Sanji’s bored out of his mind (he starts canning the fruit from Mihawk’s garden to pass the time)

Then one day, bursting through the front door come two people his own age, a woman with pink hair and a man with green, DEMANDING to know why Mihawk moved without TELLING THEM, HIS OWN CHILDREN

Sanji immediately pegs them for stuck up assholes. He’s grown to respect Mihawk, at least (he’s better than the Charlottes were). Spoiled rich adult kids who expect their lifestyles to be funded. Ugh. 

Mihawk blinks and says that he DID tell them.

There’s a lot more shouting as Sanji quietly pickles beets in the background. They come to some sort of truce around the idea that Zoro (the green haired one) lost his phone, and Perona (pink hair) blocked his number after Mihawk called at 2am about his yams.

They’re good yams, Sanji thinks. 

He also learns that they were on a “road trip of self discovery”. He’s not sure what that means. It sounds like rich kid speak for “spending spree”.

They integrate into the household though and, after being introduced to Sanji, Perona demands pink. Anything strawberry. 

Zoro says he’ll eat anything. Sanji doubts that. 

He tests it. 

He makes extravagant dishes. 

Zoro doesn’t seem to even notice, eating without complaint.

Honestly it’s good practice. He uses it as an excuse to get back into the hang of the fanciest things Zeff taught. 

But he still doesn’t like them. Rich assholes. Mihawk’s simple toasts get him a pass.

One thing about Zoro though is that he seems to spend all his time working out, so he comes looking for food at the ODDEST times. And SOMETIMES Sanji is ASLEEP. He’s got a room in the old servants’ quarters and Zoro will appear at any hour.

After the third time being awoken at 2am, Sanji snaps. 

“I’m preparing you a fucking shelf full of onigiri,” he says, pointing with a judgmental finger at Zoro’s chest. “That’s going to be your midnight snack from now on! Some of us need our beauty rest!”

Zoro blinks down at the finger. “Okay,” he says. “I mean. You clearly need it.” 

Sanji scoffs in outrage. He’s still half asleep. He aims a kick at Zoro’s head before he can process his one rule (“don’t hurt clients”). 

Zoro dodges. 

His face breaks out into a grin.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Curls,” he says. 

Sanji stumbles. He regains his footing and stomps down the hall, face aflame. 

He makes thirty onigiri. 

Zoro eats seven. 

“There, that’ll last you three more nights,” Sanji says.

Zoro nods. “So what time do I wake you up to get you to fight me again?” 

Sanji splutters. “No!!” He shrieks. “It’s three in the morning! I know you’re a rich fuck with nothing to do but some of us have jobs! I’m on call 24/7 here!” 

…he regrets it as soon as he says it.

Expects to be fired on the spot. 

Zoro frowns. He crosses his arms. “Fine,” he says, tersely. “Go to bed.” 

Sanji… does. He avoids turning his back on Zoro as he leaves the room, a bad feeling churning in his gut.

When he makes breakfast the next morning, he’s expecting to be fired as soon as Mihawk arrives, but Mihawk mentions nothing. 

Neither do Perona or Zoro when they appear, hours later. 

Sanji feels like he’s walking on eggshells until Zoro appears in his kitchen in early afternoon.

“Hey,” says Zoro. “I talked to my dad.” 

Sanji hangs his head. “So I’m fired?” He asks, dread pooling in his stomach. 

“Fucking what? No, Jesus. I just said you should have a regular work shift. Only like, ten hours on call.” 

“So you docked my pay,” Sanji says flatly.

“Now you’re being an ass,” Zoro growls. “NO, you’re being paid the same, you’re just going to have time off when I can’t bug you. That cool?” 

Sanji frowns, suspicious. “What do you get out of it?” He asks. 

Crossing his arms, Zoro scoffs. “Not getting yelled at at 2am, mostly.”

“You could’ve just not woken me up,” Sanji says. 

“You make it real hard to be nice to you, Cook,” Zoro says, running a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t like me, but I was just trying to do something nice.” 

Sanji melts a little, but he’s not willing to give in entirely. “Well thanks,” he says. “For not firing me, too.” 

Zoro rolls his eyes. “We’ve all had shitty jobs where we want to yell at customers,” He says. 

“Now I KNOW you’re lying,” Sanji argues. “I know how rich you are. I know what Mihawk pays me.”

Zoro looks… funny at him. “Did he ever happen to mention that we’re adopted?” 

Sanji blinks. Thinks of Zeff. “Uh, no?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “Fucking Daddy Warbucks situation. I was seventeen. Trust me, I know customer service. Had to work to eat.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Sanji says. “Now I feel like a fucking ass.” 

“You ARE a fucking ass,” Zoro says. “Want to fight when you’re off work? Officially your shift ends at 6 now.” 

“Dinner is for seven so that won’t work.” Sanji says. “Shut up I have a chef’s integrity.”

“You’re not turning down fighting me?” Zoro asks, sounding oddly hopeful. 

“You spend all day working out so it’ll be unfair,” Sanji says. “But sure, I’ll kick your ass. Winner chooses what filling goes in your onigiri.” 

“Spicy salmon,” Zoro says. 

“Pickled plums,” muses Sanji.

They do end up fighting after dinner, out in Mihawk’s fancy topiary garden (he maintains it himself). 

Bruised and panting, they end up making out behind the large rabbit-shaped tree. 

It becomes A Thing.

[ssailormoonn]

❛ I'LL TEACH YOU ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC;2k k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem reader, reader is implied a virgin but isnt specified, fingering, oral -> male recieving, smut, nsfw, pwp?, pw/op? praise, fluffy at the end, + more

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Can you do giyuu x fem!reader where reader is new to sex😅- ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Now, you weren't experienced in sex, not at all. But, one could say the same about Giyuu. He was stoic and quiet so one would expect him to be not experienced either, although that wasn't the case. Yes, he was inexperienced but in his head, he knew exactly what a woman would want and crave. 

Giyuu and you have been together for quite a few months now and the most anything sexual had ever grown between you was the heavy and heated makeout sessions the two of you had, where Giyuu's hands would wonder lower, his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy before you pull away. 

You were just a tad bit scared because you knew that you were inexperienced and think that might deter your boyfriend, but that was far from the case. At this point, Giyuu was wondering if you even love him like that, in a sexual way. 

To Giyuu's surprise, you had the guts today to take some subtle control. Your hands cup his face gently, as you sink further beneath him while your tongues slowly intertwine with each other before one of your hands slithers into Giyuu's hair, softly tugging on the black strands. Giyuu lets out a soft moan into your mouth at your action 

You tremble due to the simple sound, it makes you feel so weak to the point where you whimper into his mouth. Cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, your cheeks were beet red. Pulling away from the heated kiss, your arms wrap tightly around his shoulder and around his neck while you bury your face into his neck. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

Giyuu lets out a sigh before kissing your hair and wrapping his arms to reciprocate around your figure, pulling you inevitably closer to him. "You don't need to apologise for something like that," Giyuu replies, his breath tickling your neck causing shivers to spill from every nerve of your body.

"Still..." you say slowly. "You make me feel things I don't know how to deal with."

"You can let me help," Giyuu replies reassuringly. "You know I'd never hurt you."

You lift your head from his shoulder with stars in your eyes. You love him so much it is overwhelming. 

You smash your lips against him and he grunts shocked in response. Giyuu's tongue is in your mouth once more and you gasp as your body falls back against the futon. Electricity was coursing through your veins at his touch.

"Giyuu," you moan against his mouth, your eyes shut closed in ecstasy. "Can you please....?"

"I'll do anything you want me to," he replies instantly, his lips breaking away from yours. 

In reply, you began to kiss him again, you couldn't get enough of him. "Could you take my nemaki off..." you asked, unsure.

"Of course," he replies almost instantly. 

A breathless sigh leaves your mouth when his hot hand trailed up your lower stomach to experimentally squeeze the mounds of flesh. you let out a moan when Giyuu's lips began to press and suck gently on the top of your breast. You covered your mouth embarrassed while you looked away from Giyuu. "Sorry," You mumbled.

"You sound so pretty," he whispers in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up. Giyuu's free hand pulled the hand away from your mouth. 

He leaned up a bit, pulling you gently with him and slipped the black nemaki off your shoulders, placing the material somewhere near us before he lay you down on the futon again.

Giyuu's lips pressed against mine once more while a hand skimmed slowly down your body. You felt the tip of his finger tug only slightly at your underwear and you grasped his wrist, the kiss breaking.

"Do you want to stop? You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Giyuu reassures but you shake your head, signalling that you weren't implying that.

"It's not that, I really want to," You replied breathlessly before an embarrassed flush rose onto your cheeks. "Could you take off your..."

"Huh? Oh, of course," Giyuu hummed, his lips pressing the side of your jaw. You watched him slip himself out of his nemaki, You see the imprint of his dick press painfully against his underwear and you swallowed deeply before he straddled you once you. Giyuu did that without any complaint, he must really love you all that much.

Giyuu pressed a reassuring kiss on your jaw before the tips of his fingers pulled the cotton down your legs, the cool air of the room causing chills to tingle down your pale skin. "You're so pretty," Giyuu says breathlessly causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Giyuu mumbles before looking back up to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," You replied quietly, opening your eyes down to Giyuu. "Please, can you... touch me more."

"I'll do whatever you want me do to," Giyuu replied and You let a small smile grace your lips.

At your reply, Giyuu's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Giyuu to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. You felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Giyuu asked and You nodded frantically.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. "Making me feel so good, Giyuu."

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Yeah, so so good," You whimper.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Giyuu's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Please, Giyuu," you sob. "I need to... So good, Giyuu."

"I've got you," Giyuu reassured, intertwining our mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release your from Giyuu's neck and move away from his hold.

"How are you feeling?" Giyuu asks cupping your cheeks.

"Good," you breath out slowly while looking into his eyes. "But, I want to make you feel good too."

"You don't need-"

"Please," you beg and you watch him swallow deeply, tension showing on his body.

Giyuu asked once more. "Are you sure?"

you nod. "Please."

"Alright," He smiles gently moving off you to get himself out of his underwear and your eyes widen as you see the size of his length. Giyuu moves over you, you place your hands on his chest.

"W-wait," you say, voice cracking.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you want to stop-?"

You shake your head. "No! I just want to make you feel good too."

Giyuu's eyes widened when he realised what you were implying, you wanted to give him head, that's what he was thinking. And by the glint in your eye, he could tell that his thoughts were right. 

Giyuu cups your face reassuringly. "You don't need to, I'm here to please you-"

"P-Please," you breathed, your doe eyes staring deeply into his own.

He lets out a hopeless sigh before straddling your hips. "Alright, let me know at any time if it's too much."

"I will," you replied sitting up and Giyuu lays down onto the futon, allowing you to settle in between his thighs. 

You grasp the base of his cock with nervousness in your eyes, not really knowing what to do. Accidentally, you squeezed the base of his length and a deep groan strained itself from Giyuu's mouth, his head thrown back against the pillow while his hand shot down to grip yours.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Giyuu lets out a pleasured sigh. "No... that felt good, keep... keep going."

You nibble on your bottom lip unsure. "Well... what do I..."

"You can do it... you have to put your mouth-"

"Okay," you replied, a little bit too eagerly and Giyuu smiled at your cute reaction.

As your head descended and you gave his tip an experimenting lick, Giyuu snarled at the sensation. His abs and thighs stiffened. You were trying to take him as far as you could without gagging on his cock, so you were using your hand to jack off the part that wouldn't go in your mouth. 

Giyuu's groans grew louder, and he struggled to maintain his stance. Giyuu began to navigate your head through the tangles of your hair without your assistance as you relaxed your grip and let him to take over.

"See, you're doing so well," he groaned.

The whimpers escaping his mouth made it even more likely that your cunt would soak your pants—he was getting drier by the second.

Giyuu began to move faster, which caused you to cry even harder. He gave a muffled moan when you hollowed down your cheeks, which made him hesitant to get any closer. His seed spills into your mouth as he pulls away from you.

Giyuu's eyes widened in realisation of what he had just done. "Spit it out," he demands.

You were too conflicted to know whether to spit or to swallow so you simply followed Giyuu's order and let the cum spill from your mouth, the salty liquid getting spit out from your mouth beside the futon.

"Are you okay?" he asked hastily, sitting up and cradling your head.

You nodded, a smile coming onto your lips, "I am, Giyuu."

Giyuu pulled you in close to him, arms wrapped tightly around your figure with one hand on the back of your head, burying your face into his shoulder. He lets out a sigh of contentment. "I actually liked it," you add.

"You did...?" he replied confused, he thought that women wouldn't be fond of being the one to give oral.

"Yeah," you mumbled into his neck. "But I wanna bathe and shower now."

"We can do that," he replies, pressing soft kisses to the side of your head.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[devilanon]

ask and ye shall receive.

He had blurted it out maybe a minute and a half into you two kissing.

Your hand had been steadily creeping up the length of his thigh, mouth pressed against his, when Konig pulled back from you, lips shiny with spit, and spilled his guts. “I’m a virgin.”

It took nearly all of your willpower to school your expression into an appropriate one of surprise. Of course he was a virgin; he had been breathing heavily the moment you crawled onto him, and the second you swiped your tongue against the seam of his mouth he’d let out a noise like he was dying. But still, you didn’t want to embarrass him, and raised your brows in a perfunctory show of shock. You blinked at him, watching as he fidgeted nervously. The mattress of his bed squeaked a little.

Konig stared down at you, face all shiny with sweat, his eyeblack rubbed mostly off, the remnants a dark shadow across his eyes. He already looked a little fucked out, if you were honest, pupils blown and hair a mess. Post-victory KorTac Karaoke Night (nearly mandatory, at this point) had done a number on him, clearly.

“...Did you still want to keep going?”, you questioned, trying to keep your tone even, for his sake. This was clearly a big deal for him, and you didn’t want to belittle him by acting like what he’d just shared was unimportant. His nerves were obviously getting to him. To your surprise, Konig nodded furiously, the little strands of hair that had pulled free from his bun brushing against his nose. “Scheiße, shit, yes. I just— this doesn’t bother you?” He looked at you carefully, scrutinizing your expression, like he expected you to laugh at him any moment.

“Konig.” You laced your fingers with his — his palm is clammy and swallows yours whole. “I’ve been trying to fuck you for the past… three months? If you haven't noticed.” You level him with a look that sends a shiver up his spine, makes his fingers twitch under your grasp. “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

He lets a long breath through his nose, trying to steel himself. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.” He looks lost, brows pinched in concern. He’s so innocent, puppydog eyes and all. You want to make him cum so hard he cries.

You sink to your knees, pushing your way between his legs, and he makes a strangled sound in his chest. “I can teach you,” you offer sweetly. You rest your cheek against his jean-clad thigh and feel the length of him, hot and hard, pressing up against your face. “Please,” he breathes out, sounding vaguely like a deflated balloon. His face is beet red as he stares down at you with what looks like awe. It’s all very cute, so cute that you’re compelled to press little kisses to the outline of his cock, just to see what other noises he can make. He squirms, his huge fists curling into the sheets of his bed. You pull his zipper down with your teeth, and he stares down at you dumbly like a deer in the headlights. His inaction strikes you, and you pause. He really has no clue what to do, does he? “Lift your hips, baby,” you instruct gently, pulling at his belt loops, and he complies immediately, like he’s just been given an order by his commanding officer. He lets you shuffle his pants down to his knees, past his thick thighs, leaving him sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers. He’s big, for sure, straining against the fabric with a small wet patch forming right where his tip would be. He quickly moves to take his boxers off without being asked, and his cock springs out, thwacking against his tummy eagerly.

“Good,” you hum appreciatively, not missing the way his breath hitches in his throat at your praise. You can’t suppress the evil little grin that crawls onto your face — you try again, voice velvety, as you grab the base of his cock. “You’re such a good boy, Konig. You listen so well.” His cock throbs in your hand. Bingo.

You stroke him slowly, watching him squirm in your grasp; he’s long, thick and uncut, precum beading at the head of his red tip. “Danke,” he wheezes out, words breathy. He hardly has time to react when you press a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, twisting your grasp at the base of him. His hand shoots up, then lingers in the air, like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “You can grab my hair, honey,” you encourage, mouth half-occupied as you run your tongue over his veins, his slit; when you suction your lips around his head and sink further down he lets out a little wail, his big hand sliding to the back of your head, gripping your roots tight.

The atmosphere of his bedroom is heady and hot; the sounds of your mouth moving wetly on his cock, the smell and feel of the sweat gathering on his thighs makes you moan around him. The vibration makes him twitch, keening in pleasure as he fucks up into your mouth, his cock sliding further into your throat. You gag at the intrusion, pulling back from him. He feels dizzy looking at you, cheeks flushed, drool running down your chin. You level him with a chiding look, gripping the base of his cock, and he at least has the presence of mind to seem a little sheepish. “Konig, you’re too big.” You press a palm against his hips, pinning them to the bed. You know your strength is nothing compared to his, that your touch is more of a warning than anything else, but he stills obediently anyway. “You can’t fuck my face tonight, baby.” You lower your head again, peering back up at him through your lashes. “Maybe later.” You swallow him again, relaxing your throat in an effort to take him to the hilt. You’re close, but he’s too big for you to reach the bottom, too heavy in your throat— you’re getting lightheaded, massaging his shaft with your tongue, tugging gently on his balls as he writhes and squirms under you, trying to work the full length of him.

“Good boy, so sweet for me,” you murmur, pulling back with a pop to work his cock with both hands, the sound wet and obscene. “Shit,” Konig whines, sounding desperate. His abs twitch with effort as he tries not to fuck up into your grasp. “Please, please,” he chants, prayer-like, chest rising with his quickening breath. His eyes are glossy with tears. He’s close; you can feel him pulsing in your hand, veins thrumming. He cries out when your mouth goes back to his cock, taking him as far as you can go, your nose pressing against the curls of his pubic hair. “Feels good, can’t—“ He curls into himself when he comes, looming over you, his grip on your head forcing you to take him deeper as he floods your throat with his seed. He’s stammering out what sounds like an apology as he works his hips against your face. You gag with the sheer quantity of his come, his thick spend leaking from the seams of your lips.

You’re breathless and coughing when he lets you up, his softening cock slipping out of your mouth. Konig is flat on his back, heaving, and he twitches and moans when you press a kiss to his thigh.

When you finally climb up beside him, knees sore (they’re definitely going to bruise, you think), he looks dazed, like his brain’s leaked out of his ears. He looks at you with a dopey smile, flashing his crooked canines at you when you press a kiss to his temple. “Good?” “Ja.” You flop down beside him, and he presses the length of his body against you, pulling you flush to his side. “Anytime, Konig.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

At First Sight 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Plus!short!reader) Please mind the warnings.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Sy prods at your entrance. The resistance is dry and searing as he tries to push his tip inside you. He grunts and jerks his hips but only worses the burning pain. Your tears spill out over the brims of your eyes and you whimper, reaching back, fingertips brushing his stomach.

“Relax, sugar,” he bends over you, crushing your arm as his beet–stained breath stains your scalp. “Let me get you ready.”

He snakes his arm beneath you, finding your clit with his thick index, his rough skin scraping on your sensitive bud. You shudder, clench as his rigid dick presses against your still. He presses another finger to you and rubs, the hot friction radiating into you. 

“Please…” you beg through hiccups, “please, I’m drunk…”

“Sug, you feel that,” he growls as your core tingles, “you want this.”

You gulp as a knot lodges in your throat. You feel yourself slickening at his touch. But you don’t want this. Your head and chest are screaming no so why is your body reacting? Why can you feel that warmth seeping out in a cool slather.

He keeps his fingers flicking as his other hand crawls beneath your ass. He pumps himself as he once more lines his tip up with your entrance. He leans into you, stretching you around his tip as you let out a shrill cry of horror. He retracts only to do it again, pushing in just and inch before sliding out.

He continues the motion, dipping just inside in tandem with his fingers. You quiver as the terror, drunkenness, and pleasure mingles in a violent storm. He raises himself, keeping his hand between your legs as he lifts you with him.

You see your reflection and your breath hitches. Your face is distraught and streaked with tears, your eyes glazed with alcohol. His hand nestles along your pelvis, hiding your more intimate part from view as he toys with you. He pulls you flush to him as he thrusts, pushing further inside.

You howl and throw your head back against his chest as he curls himself around you. He makes you feel tiny and helpless. You’ve never felt like that before. 

He sinks in deeper and you clamp onto his thick forearm, feeling his hard muscle flexing as his fingers roll around your clit. His other hand grasps the bottom of your shirt, tugging it up over your chest as he snarls, puffing as he tilts his hips in tempo. He covers half your chest with his large hand, groping you as he presses you against the sink.

His breaths are punctuated by grunts as he fucks deeper and deeper into you. You whine and whimper, nearly wailing as your insides aches with every inch. Your eyes roll back as the agony underlines your drunkenness. You welcome the haziness nipping at your brain.

“Mm, sweet thing, don’t you go passing out on me,” he drags his hand from your chest and taps your cheek.

Your eyes snap open and he grips your jaw, pulling your head straight. He purrs and buries his nose in your hair.

“You see how I’m fucking you,” he growls as his pelvis claps against your ass. Each thrust thunders through you, rippling in your guts, tingling down your thighs. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Your soaking wet for it, sug.”

He holds your head up, all of you up, as you go limp. You can’t fight him anymore. You’re too tired, you’re confused, you’re nearly delirious. He fucks you, uses you, ramming harder and harder as his shallow panting picks up.

He pushes you down, sliding his hand free of your cunt and pins you against the sink. He plants his hand on your back and ruts furiously into you. You raise your hand to the tile to keep your head from hitting the ledge. Your toes bounce on the floor as he has you nearly off your feet.

Your stomach hurts from the crush of him against you. You murmur and squeeze your eyes shut. It will end soon. Right? Please.

🍯

Your consciousness goes spotty. The pain in your core never quite relents as flashes of reality glimmer around you. The muffled thumping of the club speakers underlines the scene of you sitting on the toilet, your pants stlll at your knees, your shirt above your bra. Your head lolls only for you to wake up on your feet.

An arm keeps you upright as your soles drag on the floor. The musky scent of sweat clings to you. Your head hangs down and your figure greets you blurrily, your jeans unbuttoned and your shirt crooked across your stomach. Bodies wriggles around you, apathetic and unaware of your muted horror.

Another black void consumes you and the night air brings you back again; the back seat of a car and the hum of an engine. Finally, the moon stamps in your vision before you surrender completely to the whiskey’s call.

The next you awake, sharp yellow light sears in your eyes. You stare at a ceiling that isn’t your own in a bed even less familiar. Your heart lurches as you lay and think, trying to remember… anything.

You hold your breath as you search the depths of your mind. Rhonda and Starla, the club, lights pulsing, music pumping… Loud snoring rumbles through you and the bed. You turn to look at the man next to you. You recognise him but it takes a moment to recall his name.

Sy.

How did you get here? The last you can summon, you were waiting by the bar for a drink with him. Then it’s all gone.

You exhale as your lip trembles. You look down at your body and nearly scream. The blanket clings to your chest and your legs stick out the bottom. You’re naked. Did you–

You sit up so suddenly a wave of dizziness has you keeling over your thighs. Your stomach churns and clap your hand to your mouth. Oh god, you’re going to puke. You turn, panic coursing up with a mouthful of vomit. The snoring ends in a harsh snort.

“Sug, where’re–” his voice gristles as he tickles your spine.

You lunge out of bed and search the room frantically. You run through the first door you see and clammer into the hallway. You fall nearly sideways through another doorway and barely get yourself over the porcelain bowl. You hurl into it, bracing the seat as you retch loudly.

What did you do!?

[mikesbasementbeets]

i want to teach myself to make video edits literally for one specific song bc every time i hear it i want to lay down on the floor and collapse in on myself and i need to Do Something about that but i don’t have the tools do u know what i mean

[bucknastysbabe]

Covetousness - Aegon II x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Chubby!Aegon, King!Aegon, breastfeeding kink, pregnancy kink, slight body worship, edging, handies, pnv!sex, jealous sullen little brat Aegon, stuffing, creampie, breeding kink, he loves some milk, breast fixation

A/N: I was invaded by a dark spirit again and made this also I don’t beta excuse any fuckups

Tag list: @lovelykhaleesiii @ilikeitbetterangsty @fairysluna

Aegon was being sulky and mopey today, jealous of the lords in court obviously staring at your milk-swollen teats, unable to be hidden in any dress.

In typical fashion Aegon had a fit, ordered that the court session was over and threatened to have eyeballs cut out. Huffing and puffing down the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast he ranted, “They think because I’m scarred, fat, a simpleton the leeches can have my rose.”

You sighed, patting his pudgy hand, “Sweetheart, you’re perfect as is. Whose child is in my womb, hm?”

“Mine,” he muttered.

The rest of the walk was blackened by his ugly mood. Once sat down in your chambers Aegon poured himself a liberal amount of wine and angrily munched on sweet rolls. You sat in the chair across from him, hand across your belly. Gently you tried again, “My king, why must you hate yourself so? You’re amazing, going to be a good papa to the babe.”

His eyes softened up some at that. But his unthinking pouty mouth had to run. Aegon snapped, purple eyes flashing, “Best go find a Lannister or Arryn. Fat and inept just like that dead bastard Viserys.”

Your mouth downturned. The Targaryen had matched your pregnancy down to the mood swings, cravings, weight gain. Although he wasn’t svelte to begin with. Never the matter, he needed a firm hand. You stared at him blankly, idly caressing your stomach.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Am I disgusting you?”

You canted your head towards the huge bed and hummed, “Honey, go get on the bed and undress will you? Please?”

As foul of a temper he was in, the blonde was wrapped around your little finger. He sighed and blew smoke but did so, lounging out for you to ogle. You smiled and ambled over, turning for him to help you undress.

The fool liked you to wear low cut dresses, milk swollen tits spilling out. But then get mad when people looked. Aegon’s mind could be an enigma. But it was more likely the lack of forethought, prick overtaking common sense. Something to stare at while on his lofty seat atop the iron throne.

You moaned in relief when your teats were freed from the constrictive garment, Aegon’s hands grasping at your softened waist. He mumured, “C’mere let me, I know they hurt.” You turned and let your doting husband help your out-of-balance frame onto his wide thighs.

He made to suckle at a stretched nipple but you pushed the beast back with a resounding, “No.” His brows furrowed as Aegon squawked, “Why not? They look full up. I’m hungry.” Tutting at the blonde you pulled a cord from one of the curtains surrounding the bed. Aegon whinged and rolled his eyes, remaining pliant.

You tried to reach around him but both of your bellies were in the way. One soft with indulgence, the other hard with child. Eventually you made Aegon turn himself to the side so you could tie his wrists up. Poor thing was beet red now, grumbling under his breath.

Sighing in contentment you stroked a full cheek, simpering, “Do I always have to force it into your thick skull Aeg? I love you, only you.” His eyes shone, his eagerness for affection peaking splendidly. Aegon rasped, “Will you show me? I’m not quite sure?”

Cheeky bastard.

Awkwardly leaning to the side you felt around the side table for the scented oil. Aegon’s stiff prick nudged at the bottom of your rounded stomach. Violet eyes flickered up, the king treading lightly, “My rose, wh-what is the plan here?” You shrugged and coated your hand in the lavender oil, gripping his turgid cock. Aegon gasped out, back arching, shoving his generous gut into you. The softness made you squirm, grow wetter.

You jerked him in smooth slides, lids heavy and focused on only him. Aegon was panting already, thick thighs trembling around your own. “Can’t you see how much I desire you Aegon? How wet and needy I am for you?” He groaned in agony, eyes fluttering. You continued in a sultry purr, “Every morning I see how you’ve bred me good and get so, ah, aroused. Can barely reach anymore. Have to rut on a pillow like a maiden.”

Aegon babbled, “Gods, sweetheart, you’re killing me!”

He strained against the bonds, panting shamelessly. You giggled at the copious spend leaking from his cock, making the glide so thick and lurid. Aegon whined, “Let me have a taste,

oh gods, gonna cum already!” You shook your head no, slowing your fist to a frustrating halt.

“You can drink if you make it two more times Hm? Two times for mentioning Lannister and Arryn like I want anyone but you. They can look all they want, but they’ll never have my cunt or my womb, my sweet milk you greedy thing.” Aegon’s belly trembled, even his softened chest peaking from arousal.

“I’ll do it, yes, my r-rose! M’so sorry I was being an ass! Can I touch you atleast?“

“One more and you can touch.”

Thus began the the second round of your fist fucking Aegon silly. You cooed, “So gorgeous my king, such a good ruler, look at you.” He groaned deeply, nose scrunching up. “My strong husband, a king should fit his throne like you do, need a healthy appetite to run the realm. No matter you’ve gotten soft.” Aegon pled, “F-fffuck love, oh you’ve got to stop, I’m so close!”

“Do you think your belly is bigger than mine?”

“Oh stop stop stop, I’ll ruin it, shit!”

You grinned and caressed his cheek with your clean hand, pinching the soft flesh. Another awkward session of maneuvering was endured to get Aeg’s wrists free. Before he could grab your waiting flesh, you hummed, “Touching only, make it through you get my tits.” He whined impatiently, “Yes, yes!”

He instantly groped and felt up your belly and tits, pretty eyes rolling up. He panted over the rhythmic ‘Schlick schlick Schlick’ of your fist, “Oh my gods- love- you’re so gorgeous, can’t believe I did this to you, fucking goddess.” Your own eyes fluttered at that, suddenly needing to sit on your lovers cock.

Aegon was sweating and beginning to shake again, growling, “You’re right- hah- all mine to fuck and breed as I please.” You moaned, “Smith’s balls, yes, want to be full of you all the time, only you!” Your lover gripped your moving hand, stopping it, eyes pleading.

“Oh fuck it.”

His calloused hands helped you lift up onto his purpling cock, slick and engorged. In a hoarse cry you gripped at his sturdy shoulders, moving the best you could. This wasn’t going to be a long, nor acrobatic affair. “Go on, have a taste, drink it up my love.” Aegon took to your left teat greedily, coaxing that sweet milk out.

His pudgy hands massaged at your sore tits, making you whine and squirm on his lip, so oversensitive from the pregnancy. The blonde moaned around desperate gulps, rutting into your cunt, building a strange friction setting your spine alight.

He drank and drank until your tit wasn’t fit to burst, wiping the droplet of milk from your mouth. Aegon rasped, “Goddamn ambrosia, fuck.” He dove back to your other nipple, giving the same grasping manner. You could feel his belly swelling with the liquid, pushing you back some. Your nimble fingers slid down to your swollen bud, circling roughly, hoarse groans escaping your lips, chanting his name in a litany.

Aegon gasped around your tit, breathing against the flesh, breathing while he kept rutting. The king managed, “Gonna cum, keep touching that sweet cunt darling, I’m about to burst.” His lips sealed back, violet eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

All the stimulation, Aegon’s greedy groping and suckling, his thick cock nudging your sweet spot sent you over the edge with a wail, inner walls clamping down. Your husbands hands dug into your hips, shouting as you drug his orgasm out by surprise. Milk coated his full lips and chin, the royal carrying on grunting as he pumped your womb full.

Then he finished off the rest of your milk, leaning back with a satisfied belch, goddamn pig. You were still seated on his cock, worn out from the strenuous activities. Aegon’s belly was swollen and full, him looking quite dozy. He held your hands as you clambered off of him, laying on his side, pregnant belly flush to his softness.

He pet at your hair, murmuring, “By the gods, I do apologize. I get all in my head, think you’ll find someone less of a buffoon.” He smiled at you, but his eyes shone with fear. Rubbing at the sparse hair on his chest you replied, “No, you’re a buffoon for thinking you’re a buffoon. Obviously I’m quite invested in my handsome king. Though I do wonder how you’re going to share with the babe.”

You snickered at the pouty look on his lips, Aegon muttering about your ‘mean joke’. You gingerly rubbed his belly and hummed, “Don’t worry, I’ll save some for you, just get it while you can yeah?”

[nightbunnysong]

Holistic tips to support brain health

Incorporate herbal teas

Drink herbal teas known for their cognitive benefits. For instance, ginkgo biloba may improve memory and cognitive function, while rosemary and sage are believed to enhance concentration. Enjoy these teas as part of your daily routine.

Practice forest bathing

Spend time in nature by practicing “forest bathing” or shinrin-yoku. Immersing yourself in natural surroundings can reduce stress, improve mood, and boost cognitive function. Aim for a walk in a forest or park to experience its calming effects.

Engage in mindful breathing

Incorporate mindful breathing exercises into your daily routine. Deep, controlled breaths can increase oxygen flow to the brain, reduce stress, and enhance mental clarity. Try techniques such as diaphragmatic breathing or alternate nostril breathing.

Eat brain-boosting superfoods

Incorporate superfoods that naturally support brain health into your diet. Examples include:

Avocados: Rich in healthy fats and antioxidants.

Chia Seeds: Packed with omega-3 fatty acids.

Beets: Known to improve blood flow to the brain.

Grow your own herbs

Cultivate herbs like basil, mint, and lemon balm in your garden or kitchen. These herbs not only add flavor to your meals but also offer cognitive benefits and stress-relief properties.

Practice Tai Chi or Qigong

These ancient Chinese practices combine gentle movement, meditation, and deep breathing. Both Tai Chi and Qigong promote relaxation, balance, and mental focus, making them excellent for brain health.

Incorporate fermented foods

Include fermented foods like kimchi, sauerkraut, and kefir in your diet. These foods support gut health, which is increasingly recognized for its connection to brain health and mood regulation.

[photo from Pinterest]

[thebloodredraven]

Akatsuki Secret [sub] Kinks - Part I

lineup: itachi uchiha, hidan, konan, sasori warnings: mentions and descriptions of rough sex, degradation, dumbification, mommy kink, humiliation, r*pe play, and edging, gender inclusive

- x - notes: I've had this in my drafts for a little while (a year lmao), but I couldn't get Hidan fleshed out tbh. His was hard. Anyways: minors do not interact, comment or reblog if you like it, and make sure to support other fanfic writers ♥ I only do these when the moment strikes so idk when the second part will be published but it'll get done! thanks ♥ - x -

Itachi: degredation/humiliation

Sure, he could be the best pleasure dom you've ever come across ever. Ever. But have you considered he gives you all the praise because he's tired of hearing it for himself? Every waking minute of his life, he has to hear about how great he is. How powerful he is. How nobody will ever amount to his power and prowess as a shinobi. Praise, envy, recognition, infamy, compliments, shoe-shining, ass-kissing, blah blah blah blah blah. He's heard it all before and he's sick of it.

You can't convince me he wouldn't fold, or at least pause him in his tracks, if someone told him he wasn't as special as everyone claimed he was. That he wasn't worth the hype. That you expected more from someone with his name. That the way he was writhing and keening from your fingers milking his prostate because he hates being edged was unbecoming of him. That Uchiha pride of his would fight back against the accusations and his eyes would burn with hatred, but the beet-red blush that covers his entire face and chest while you're impaling his wet throat tells you he feels otherwise.

That man wants to be spit on and called a cock-sucking whore while he's ass up taking a strap. Call him pathetic. Tell him how stupid he looks with his fucked-out face smothered in the pillows and slick all over his chin from when you sat on his face and smothered him until he couldn't breathe. Laugh at him when he begs for air by tapping your thighs. Ask him how he'd feel if his entire family could see him in a position that would bring the whole clan to shame, and he'd feel freer and more liberated than he has his whole life cause all the expectations people placed on him are GONE and he can just be your dumb little toy.

Konan: dominatrix

I feel it in my gut that this woman is a dominatrix at certain times. She feels like a switch, but the few times she needs to be in that special space? Needs to feel some semblance of control because everything else around her is out of her grasp because someone else has what she wants in their clutches? That's when she slips into that headspace.

Unlike Itachi as a pleasure dom, she's a no-nonsense woman and expects to be obeyed. You'll be rethinking about how you backtalked her when your top half is hanging off the bed while she fucks you with a brutality she learned to harness on the battlefield, the only thing keeping you from falling being her strong grip on your hips.

You've got drool sliding down your cheek and a tight grip on her wrist while she forces moan after moan after moan from you until you're screaming and crying for her to stop. Because after four messy, powerful orgasms you can't take it anymore. It's too much. She'll slow down once she sees you sobbing and bend down to kiss away your tears, letting you get a breather, but she's not pulling out. In fact, you're too dazed by her lips to realize the meaning behind her sliding her hands up your body to rest at the juncture of your neck. She presses one more tender kiss to your ears before whispering in a deceptively kind voice, "I know it's a lot, baby. But you know tears don't move me. Until I hear that safe word, you're going to take it until I'm satisfied you've learned your lesson. Now stop whining and spread your legs wider. You're in for a long night."

Hidan: dumbification/tenderness

You'd think this one would be easy because what you see is what you get most of the time with Hidan: a sadomasochistic pain-obsessed BDSM freak with very little boundaries. He typically requires a lot from sexual partners because that's all he's used to: intensity. Everything with him is always blood, violence, screaming, sacrifice, Jashin, Jashin, Jashin, kill, kill, kill. R8P play, flogging, knife play, golden showers, and even killing him are not above his desires. But this is about secret kinks. There are enough fanfics about him loving the thrill of being bullied by big muscular men to the nth degree, but what's something he'd keep hidden from everyone else? One he might actually feel embarrassed about sharing with someone? One he'd go to great lengths to hide because it's the one thing he's ashamed about feeling like he needs? It's not a kink at all. It's a human emotion that he craves to feel during the moment more than he's willing to admit: It's tenderness. It's making love to him to slow his mind down and coaxing his orgasms from him in a way that doesn't overstimulate him and watching him make sense of it. It's enacting acts of violence against his body with spiked whips, chain-shibari, and barbed wire but pressing a kiss to his fresh, bloodied wounds at the same time. It's making him understand that he craves violence and hedonism because it's the only form of control he ever has and taking it away from him is a risk you love him enough to take. It's being in the throes of pleasure and getting him right to his peak before forcing him to keep eye contact as his pleasure spills over and wracks through his body in waves because of the softness and admiration aimed towards him at his most vulnerable. He'll NEVER admit it out loud and he'd actually kill you if you brought it up any time outside of the bedroom, but you know. He knows you know. It works out.

Sasori: MMlb/DDlb

I see this man portrayed as a hard dom 98% of the time and I'm not mad about it, but........ The same man that figuratively and literally wears a hard shell of a mask to hide his vulnerable and delicate nature? The man that finds beauty in the most macabre things because it's everlasting and immortal, therefore will always be remembered and praised? The man that found peace after death because someone finally understood him? The man that created puppets of his parents for some form of connection to the intimacy that he was robbed of? The Scorpio? That man needs a Mommy with a capital M. He wants to be nurtured. He wants to be held. He wants someone else to hold the strings to his heart for a change. That bad attitude and mean streak doesn't change the fact that that man is a bottom; a bottom leaning switch at MOST.

[jellybeanium124]

thinkin bout like, ed and stede as kids in the 80s. they're like, 10, maybe. let's say ed's 8 and stede's 10. and stede goes to the library to return a bunch of books and check out new ones. so he returns his books and wanders around the library to find new books to read, and ends up in the nonfiction section all the way at the back which is completely empty, except for a pair of feet sticking out from a gap between a couch and the wall. this seems pretty odd to stede, so he walks over and sees a kid hiding inside an oversized hoodie, curled up to be as small as possible. because of the hoodie stede can't see much of them. he hears little sniffles. in his head he hears his dad's voice telling him to mind his own business and not bother strangers. but something's off here. and fuck his dad.

"hello? are you ok?"

the child goes very still and quiet. "don't tell anyone I'm here," they say, barely audibly.

"I won't. it's a public library, you're allowed to be here, you know. at least until six. if you're worried about getting in trouble for being unsupervised, miss lisa says kids are welcome with or without a parent."

"oh..."

the kid pulls their hoodie down to reveal a tearstained face. he wipes his nose and runs his hands through his hair to smooth it out. he looks a little bit younger than stede.

"so... are you okay?" stede asks again.

the kid pulls his legs into his chest. "I'm fine."

stede frowns. the kid is very obviously not fine. "I'm stede."

"...ed."

"so... are you picking up some summer reading?"

the boy shakes his head, and stede feels something squirm in his gut. "summer reading?" really? now ed's gonna think stede is a big loser nerd. which he is.

"some tapes?" stede asks. "they have a lot of cool movies on VHS."

ed shook his head again.

he wasn't being very conversational, and stede didn't exactly know where to go from here. he didn't want to leave ed alone, though. he still looked terrified.

"you wanna... sit on the couch, at least?"

ed seemed to consider it for a moment, and then nodded. he extracted himself from his spot and curled up on the couch instead, fitting as much of himself into the hoodie as he could. it was an old, gray hoodie, with the name and symbol of the local public high school on the top left bit of the chest.

"do you have an older sibling?" stede asked.

ed shook his head. "it's my mama's. from when she was in school."

"I don't have any older siblings either. or younger siblings."

"I'm an only child too."

"do you get lonely?" stede asked without thinking. his face turned beet red immediately after, mortified that he said that out loud. ed was gonna laugh at him for sure. but when stede dared to look back at ed's face, he looked sad and thoughtful.

"maybe..." ed said in a small voice. "my apartment's too small to feel really lonely though. that's why I came here."

"oh..." stede said. he couldn't relate, and he felt rather awkward. ed seemed to feel vaguely awkward as well. "do you like reading?" he blurted out.

ed bit his lower lip. "yeah, but not for school."

"school sucks."

"school sucks so much!"

"do you like roald dahl?"

ed shrugged. "who's that?"

"he's a writer from england. I love his books. my favorite is 'danny the champion of the world.' it's about a boy and his dad who get revenge on an evil beer baron by stealing all his pheasants. they live in a little caravan together and his dad owns a gas station. his mom died when he was three months old but his dad takes care of him and walks him to school and is in on the plot to steal all the pheasants. in fact, his dad teaches him how to poach. that's what it's called. poaching, not stealing. his dad makes fire balloons and kites too and at one point danny has to drive a car and his dad doesn't get mad at him at all."

"that sounds like a good book."

"c'mon, the library has a copy. let's see if it's in."

they went to the YA section and found the book. stede found "tales of a fourth grade nothing" and decided it looked interesting. then they went back to their quiet, empty section of the library, and read their books while sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch.

when stede finished, he looked up at the clock on the wall. "oh dear. it's 5:45."

ed looked up from his book. "danny the champion of the world" was much longer than "tales of a fourth grade nothing," so he hadn't finished it.

"c'mon. let's go check it out."

"I can't," ed said in a small voice. "I don't have a library card."

"I can check it out then," stede said.

first, they went back to the YA section, so stede could swap "tales of a fourth grade nothing" out for "otherwise known as sheila the great," and then they went back to the front desk, and stede checked out the two books. they walked out the door and towards main street together.

"I should probably go home," stede said. "my dad will have a fit if I'm not home in time for dinner..."

"I should go home too..."

stede stopped walking, and pulled a pen and small notebook out of his pocket, and wrote something down. he tore the page out and handed it to ed. "this is my phone number. it's mine. my grandma got me my own phone line for my 10th birthday. My dad thinks I'm too young to have my own separate line, but my grandma told him..." stede lowered his voice, "to 'stuff it.' so you can call it and it only rings the phone in my room, and none of the others."

"wow..." ed said. "I wish I had my own phone. ours is in the kitchen. it's not very private..."

"well... you can call me and we can arrange to hang out, and then we can talk about private things."

ed's smile grew a thousand times, and it made stede smile too. "okay! I will!"

"I'm only here until the end of summer, though," stede said, hating the way it wiped the smile off of ed's face. "at the end of august my dad's shipping me back to boarding school. there's a phone on the first floor of the dormitories but it's not exactly private either... still... and we can write letters--" stede cut himself off. "sorry, I don't know why I'm saying all of this."

"coz... we're friends?"

"really? and you would wanna write letters?"

ed nodded. "yeah. I think so."

they walked to main street, and then started in opposite directions. they stopped and turned around and looked at each other.

"wanna go to rocky's arcade tomorrow?" ed asked.

"I've never been there."

"it's in the same strip mall as the wal-mart."

stede nodded. "ok, sure. when?"

"two?"

"ok. see you tomorrow!"

"see you tomorrow!"

for a moment they stood, facing each other awkwardly.

"well, bye!" stede said.

"bye!"

they turned and walked their separate ways. they needed to come up with a secret handshake.

when stede got home, he realized he never figured out why ed was crying and hiding in the first place. as he rushed up to his room to comb his hair and put on a polo and khakis for dinner, he wondered if he wanted to know. at seven pm sharp he was sitting in the same spot he always did at the dinner table, keeping his eyes on his plate and letting his father prattle on about the stock market. he wished he could proudly tell his parents he made a friend today and they would be proud and ask him about his friend. but he knew by now that they weren't going to be happy, because nothing he did ever made them happy.

he wondered what ed was eating for dinner. he wondered if ed's dining room table was happier than his. if his parents would enjoy listening to him talk about his new friend. he had a feeling deep down that the image he conjured in his head of a happy mom and a dad who looked suspiciously like quentin blake's drawings of danny's dad and ed at a happy table together was not very aligned with reality. still, he let himself fantasize for a second, about being invited to a sleepover with a happy family, and staying up all night with ed watching television and tapes and playing games and sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags.

he sighed quietly and kept his eyes on his underflavored chicken and broccoli.