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s-4pphics · 1 year ago

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let the rain sing. 3 (a.a)

OHHHHH WHO UP FR😨😨

wc;cw: 3.7k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap (oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi<3, weed, alcohol, dubcon, footsie lol, angst :(

You haven’t seen or spoken to Abby in a month, and you were dying.

It wasn’t even due to your insomnia, which came as a shock to you in the beginning. Your exhaustion was overcrowded by shame since your last encounter with her. A self-loathing deep in your gut that nearly puts you in the ground when you recollect on your aloofness.

You forced yourself to neglect everything but coursework to wither your desire to call her and beg for forgiveness. It was December, and you were scavenging to get most of your revisions for your thesis complete before February. You were almost forty pages deep, but you couldn’t even relish your successes due to your overworked brain conjuring up visions of a dripping wet, crying Abby.

Your short minutes of sleep were dominated by images of her: laughing, smiling, crying in pleasure under you, but none of the enjoyment lasted. Even in the heavy moments you two shared in your subconscious, you were always jolted awake by her screaming about how much she hated you, how you used her because you're selfish and controlling and mean.

She never said those things to you outwardly, but you knew she felt it whenever she saw you during the late hours of the night, even more so now after your last fight. You felt like a terrible person; you are a terrible person. And you looked the part.

The dark, heavy bags under your eyes returned, skin dry and wrinkly from frowning, crying, and stressing from school. You were glued to your laptop, clinging it to your side everywhere you went like your life depended on it. Like you would completely lose all connection to reality if it parted from you. You couldn’t separate from it.

Even when your parents would come knocking on your door asking why you didn’t eat dinner with them, your eyes bored into the bright screen, the sound of your mom’s cheery voice almost sounding like blaring alarms in your head.

Your dad made your favorite, baby! Come eat!

Your father.

You could barely bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore. You make sure to avoid eye contact when he speaks to you, turning your head down when he holds you close. You missed his laugh lines and gentle smile, but you just… couldn’t. Every time you slipped up and met his delicate eyes, you saw Abby’s.

So full of affection and softness: their eyes felt like a warm embrace, constant and comforting. Your father always got more affectionate during the holiday season.

Your heart hurts whenever you think about Abby during this time of year.

Was she lonely during the holidays? Is she close with her family? You were embarrassed how little you knew about her personal life. Her attempts to bond were always stopped by hot kisses, wandering hands, your desperate pleas for shut eye. How could you be so heartless to someone as kind as her? She invited you into her home, expressed her trauma, provided you with an outlet to release your tensions, and you stole from her with greed.

You brought your hands up to your burning eyes to rub them before grabbing your phone. You unlocked it and scrolled down to you and Abby’s abandoned messages. Remorse slammed into your gut, the slew of abby i need you please and her replies of Okay. Come over anytime :) made nausea stir in your gut.

You should leave her be. Leave her alone. Leave her alone, leave her alone, leave her alone—

But your selfishness was too strong, and your efforts to avoid her couldn’t hold any longer. Your fingers moved before your brain could stop them, the sounds of your unclipped nails tapping against your screen. Your eyes hurt so badly.

You sent your message before you neglected it completely.

i’m so sorry Abigail.

Regret sat heavy in your chest like an anchor.

You hoped she would forgive you someday.

Mariah Carey interrupted your hour of slumber. Fuck her and your life.

You angrily threw your blanket off your body and dug your palms into your eyes. Sometimes, the purity of your dad aggravates your soul.

He always loved Christmas Eve more than Christmas day. You still remember when he went behind your mom’s back and snuck your Bratz Doll set into your devious, stubby hands after Eve dinner when you were seven.

Mama’s gonna be so mad at you!

Meh. She’ll never know if you don’t snitch!

Your irritated inhales were swarmed with the smell of savory meats and sweet pies. You were going to eat well later, at least.

You reached over to your nightstand and grabbed your phone off the charger. Abby never replied to you, but she did open it. Your heartbeat sped up; She must’ve really despised you, and you couldn’t blame her.

You hoped she has a great Christm—

“ALL I WANT FOR CHRIIISTMAAAS IS YOUU— “

Your father’s joyous shouts interrupted your wishful thoughts of seeing his close friend again.

The irony of it all.

You tiredly hobbled downstairs after brushing your teeth.

You admired your parents' decorative abilities: the stair railings were wrapped in green and red ribbons; they hung up stockings and fairy lights over the small fireplace and covered the small tree in the corner of the living room in their DIY ornaments.

You followed the sounds of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen as your parents sang along to the lyrics booming from the speakers. Their backs were turned to you, but you could see them taste-testing soups and the corners of desserts as they shared small kisses. Your heart fluttered at the sight; they’re so in love.

You made yourself known, calling out over the tunes, “Y’all are up early.”

Both their heads whipped around to face you, instantly brightening at your disheveled sight.

“Girl, it’s noon,” your mom called out as she returned to her stirring of the large pot. Your dad trotted over to engulf you in his arms and planted kisses to your head. You made sure to keep your eyes on the wall in front of you.

“Merry Christmas, babygirl,” he said into your ear. You were overcome with warmth, then swiftly blinded by guilt. Tears jerked in your eyes, but you blinked them away with urgency.

You cleared your throat and huffed a laugh, “It’s not Christmas yet, bonehead.”

You felt a playful pinch at the back of your neck as he laughed, “Keep talkin’ trash and you’re not eating.”

You shook your head and pulled away from him, catching a small glimpse of his mischievous grin. You would’ve broken at the sight, but you swiftly brushed past him and into the kitchen to make you a quick bowl of microwaveable oatmeal. You heard your dad bolt up the stairs with a shout of BRB!

“And what are you doing.”

You turned to look at your mom, who was watching you grab a bowl from the cabinet with her hands on her hips, soupy spoon in hand.

Your brows creased, “What, mom?”

She looked at you like you had two heads. “You’re gonna ruin your appetite, baby. We’re all eating soon.”

You blinked blankly, “… So I can’t have oatmeal?”

“No, you can’t have oatmeal. Did your dad not tell you the plans?”

“Uhh… no?”

“That man, I tell you," She shook her head in exasperation, “We’re having a little Christmas party. Everyone’s bringing stuff and we need to eat everything!”

Your heart stopped in your chest at the mention of a party. You almost dropped the ceramic bowl on the floor when your arms lost strength. You tried to hide the anxiety on your face, but your mom’s gaze felt like it was piercing through you.

No. No, please—

You set the bowl on the counter harder than you should have, “W-Who’s… Who’s coming?”

She furrowed her brows at you and spoke in an obvious tone, “… All our family? Me’n dad’s work friends, some neighbors. The usual.”

You nodded and turned towards the cupboards with a pounding heart. You felt lightheaded and your mouth went dry, your throat closing at the thought of seeing Abby. You knew she was coming; You've never seen her say no to your dad. She never even denied you and you were practically strangers.

You were certain you were going to pass out—

“What’s the matter, baby?”

You flinched at your mom’s gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked at her, and she looked just as confused, just as concerned as you would expect. You noticed a glint of intensity in her gaze, and your breath caught in your throat.

… Did she know? There’s no way she knew. She couldn’t know. She didn’t, she didn’t—

“I… I just feel faint. I don’t know what happened.”

Her eyes widened in shock, “Maybe you did need that damn oatmeal. Come here, baby. Come sit.”

You could barely get words out, but your mom guided you to the dining table and ushered you to sit before running to get some water

“One bowl of oatmeal wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” She said with a sigh, handing you an ice-cold bottle from the fridge. You never choked down water that quickly in your entire life. “Cinnamon apple or maple?”

You gulped and garbled apple before getting more water in.

You weren’t thinking about fucking oatmeal. The thought of eating suddenly made you sick.

You were seeing Abby much quicker than you expected, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your quiet neighborhood was bustling.

You were peeping out the window from the living room couch to distract yourself from your oncoming doom. Bundled-up families were making their way through the snow and onto lit-up porches, children were smiling and jumping in piles of white ice, and everyone had ugly sweaters under their coats.

The sight was precious, but all you could think about was Abby, the image of her at your parents' front door making you want to flee.

… Your parents were busy all day. Maybe they wouldn’t notice if you stole your keys from the kitchen counter and drove off until the guests drunkenly laughed home—

“Girl, why aren’t you dressed! Everyone will be here soon!”

Your eyes shut in nervousness at your mom’s tone. You released the hold you had on the blinds and got up off the couch. You caught a glimpse of the ugly Christmas sweater she wanted to match with you, holding yours up in both hands. You grabbed it and moved to walk up the stairs, flinching at the playful slap she gave your ass. You ignored her as she ridiculed you for being late, your heartbeat rattling your ribcage.

… Here goes nothing.

The sun was setting as you nervously sipped your second glass of wine, watching your family and friends prance all over your home with joy.

After greeting all your guests, you took a seat on the couch next to the door, completely on guard as you poured more maroon liquid into your glass. You assumed sipping would calm your anxiety, but your tipsiness only added to your stress. You were thankful that your family respected your observance so you could isolate during these gatherings.

Ugly Christmas sweaters were a theme for your block evidently. Everyone was decked in garb that had corny punchlines and ridiculously bright green and red sleeves. Your favorite cousin even had the nerve to show up in a Merry Litmas sweater riddled with marijuana leaves. Your mom, aunt, and uncle tag-teamed cursing him out at the front door.

Your friends loved coming over when your pothead cousin was present; They never missed an opportunity to hotbox in his car. You want to join them so badly.

Your youngest aunt had gotten tired of hearing songs about Santa, propping your youngest cousin on her hip and queuing the entirety of Tina Snow. Your mom smirked deviously as your father grabbed the shot glasses and Tequila from the cupboards.

Your home was jumping an hour later. Everyone had migrated towards the kitchen, rotating between pouring up and sneaking tastes of your mom’s homemade sweet potato pies on the table.

Your dad’s work friends trickled in one by one, but there was still no sign of Abby. A hole opened in your heart, and you accepted that she wasn’t coming. That your apology wouldn’t be enough to amend your relationship.

You caught a glimpse of your remarkably high cousin waltz into the snowy backyard, and you moved on autopilot. You made your way through the dancing crowd, avoiding the scene of your dad grinding on your mom and grabbing your coat off the rack. You pushed the back door open and shivered at the cold, catching the sight of your cousin rolling up at the patio table.

“Yo.”

He jumped and turned to face you, his eyes light pink and a lazy smile appearing on his face at the sight.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. What’s up.”

You shrugged and grabbed a seat in front of him, sighing heavily as you sat. “It’s crowded in there.”

He nodded along with you, sealing his blunt with a smirk on his face, “Your new friend’s fine as hell. With the red antlers— “

You cut him off with a sharp glare, “Don’t you fucking dare. Leave her alone.”

He furrowed his brows at your tone, “Damn, my bad. I didn’t even say shit.”

“You don’t have to. Whore.”

He let out a loud laugh, his Santa hat covered head flying back as he pulled his lighter out his pocket. You watched him spark the end of his blunt before puffing from it, exhaling the smoke in a spherical cloud that floated near your face.

He wordlessly passed the blunt to you, and you accepted it, bringing it to your lips and pulling from it for a while. You felt the dull burn in your lungs as smoke filled your mouth before exhaling.

“You got better at that. Shit.”

You looked up at him and shrugged again, “I’ve been practicing, I guess.”

You puffed from the lit blunt again before passing it back to your cousin, watching him mimic your previous actions as you breathed out the carbon.

He exhaled the smoke as he spoke, “How come? Is that why you look like trash?”

You glared at him, but he didn’t care, continuing, “Have you been sleepin’?”

You hesitated before quietly denying.

His eyes widened at you. “Bro, what the fuck. Do your parents know?”

You shrugged sheepishly as you looked down at the frosted glass table, reaching for the blunt.

He passed it to you as he shook his head, “You need to go to the fuckin’ doctor and get that checked. Have you been using aids?”

You couldn’t help the huffed laugh that escaped you, Abby’s ribbed dick and blushing face popping into your mind.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You took one last good pull from the blunt before passing it back to him, your body relaxing into the cushioned chair. You watched your cousin shake his head as he pulled from the blunt.

You two caught up as darkness consumed you, giggling at the nonsensical ramblings about his new job as a Uber driver and how much he hated living near a university.

You couldn’t stop fucking laughing. You didn’t know how much time passed or what your cousin was talking about, but you felt light. Like the frigid wind surrounding the two of you would send you flying; You haven’t felt this joyous in months. The twinkling lights that surrounded the back door shined like stars; Everything looked so pretty. Maybe you should start smoking again—

The back door was pulled open, and it snapped you out of your colorful trance, your youngest aunt’s head poking out.

She whispered harshly to the two of you, nodding towards your cousin's roach in his hand, “Can y’all put that shit out so we can eat?! Hurry the fuck up!”

She turned back inside with an aggravated eye roll, leaving the door open so that you could both follow her back into warmth. Your cousin stubbed his blunt out on the floor as you stood from your seat, making your way inside as you watched everyone line up for their plates in the kitchen.

Your heart stopped and your gut swirled with nerves and want when you saw the familiar form standing by the speakers, talking to your dad. You should’ve never fucking smoked, why the fuck did you smoke—

Your head was rushing as you took in Abby: hair in two braids that were covered by a pink Santa hat, and a black and white ugly sweater covered with reindeers pooping. She was smiling as she listened to your father’s tipsy rambles, laughing as he waved his arms around in excitement. Her laugh swallowed you in slow motion, sounding like jingle bells and filling your heart with… something heavy and unfamiliar. You always thought her laugh was cute and she has the prettiest smile—

“You good?”

You jumped and gasped harshly as your cousin's voice came from behind you. You nodded in a rush, halting your gawking before scurrying over to the dining table and grabbing a paper plate.

Try not to look fucking high! You’re not even high! Abby came, Abby came, Abby came.

Your mind was racing as you filled your plate with baked mac and cheese, nearly dropping the large scooping spoon on the floor when your aunt asked why you were taking so long.

You look high, you idiot! Don’t look high—

Your nose was filled with the familiar scent of roses, and you whipped your head around to see Abby retreating back to the dining table with a filled plate and wine glass in her hand. She smelled so fucking good—

“Bruh, you’re tweaking. Go sit the hell down.”

You looked over and saw your cousin with a plate that was nearly identical to yours: a giant pile of fucking mac and cheese with some wings next to it. You want fucking chicken, too!

You walked past him and grabbed you some from the foil serving tin before making your way over to the table and Abby was fucking looking at you and there was an open seat in front of her, oh fuck—

You probably looked so fucking high when you plopped down in the vacant seat, tearing into your macaroni.

You kept your head down, face deep in your plate.

Every time you looked up, Abby caught your gaze.

The table was filled with drunken converse, your parents and uncles arguing over who would die in the Hunger Games first… you think. What the fuck did you smoke?

… Abby is so gorgeous. Have you ever told her that? Probably not.

You’ve been studying her face for what felt like hours as you chowed down your food, watching her sip her wine, watching her watch you. It made your heart race and your fingers twitch as they rested on the table.

You were hyper aware of every move she made: every shuffle in her seat, every fiddle with her fork, every minuscule response to your dad from across the table before her eyes flickered towards you again. You couldn’t read her expressions, but there was something in her eye that terrified you. Maybe your assumptions about her hatred towards you were true. Your behavior ruined everything. You were never going to see her smile or laugh or sleep again—

The brush against your leg made you stiffen.

Your eyes immediately flickered towards Abby: she was conversing with a work friend that you didn’t recognize, chuckling into her glass as she beamed with excitement as she listened to the tale. Another brush against you, nearly pressing into your limb. Your nipples hardened.

You shuddered with a heavy sigh, and you felt a foot slowly glide up your knee before traveling back down to your ankle, catching on your sock. Your tummy was in knots.

Abby finally paid you some attention, reconnecting your eyes. The sparkle in her eyes sent a tight twist in your gut. It was playful and mischievous and full of want. You shuddered again when she wet her lips, her tongue peeping out of her mouth and brushing against the glass.

“You okay?”

You jumped at your aunt's voice from next to you, and you nodded stiffly. Abby's foot traveled up your leg again as she watched the interaction between you and her.

“You sure, babe? You look sick— “

You shook your head and turned to look at your aunt’s concerned face, “M’okay. I’m just tired.”

“You look it.”

You could see Abby adjust in her seat, her feet going up your knee and inching up your thigh. Your legs closed around her fuzzy sock covered foot on instinct, your core clenching as your aunt palmed your forehead.

“You feel hot, babe. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

You could see Abby smirking behind her glass. You hate her, you hate her, you hate her—

You exhaled sharply, “Okay— “

A sharp gasp cut you off when her foot shoved between your shut legs, the bottom of it pushing into your clothed, drippy cunt. Your clit jerked with need as you shot up out of your seat, almost tripping as your chair clattered to the floor. Everyone’s conversation stopped, eyeing you with concern as they asked what was wrong. Abby was still smirking, sipping in silence.

“Sorry, m’good. I’m gonna… gonna lay down for a sec.”

You turned away before you could hear your family’s arguments, your youngest aunt asking your cousin what the fuck he put in that blunt. You bolted up the stairs and shut your door, trying to ignore the wetness between your legs.

You’re horny as fuck. You’re never getting high again.

You heard the party pick up after some minutes before a ding came from your pocket as you paced around your room.

You clumsily pulled it out and read the message from Abby, the coil in your gut reigniting as guilt filled your chest.

You’re not forgiven. :)

damn this took forever my fault yall

next part gon b up quick omg abby backstory purr

omg first post in the middle of the night who up fr

taglistttt love yall smooches @ohlawdthebirds @fibrogirlie @unangelic-thoughts @chrry1ovr @uraesthete @gravygranules @digit4lslut @machetegirl109 @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @macaroni676 @sillygooselit @nil-eena @elliesgirlll @hi2647

prologue. part one. part two. interlude. part four.

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson au #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #works 𖧧࣪#dbf!abby #𓈒∘☁︎let the rain sing☁︎∘𓈒

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pedgito · 2 years ago

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Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing #1kfic

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creepy-friday · 2 years ago

Note

Love your blog! The way you write the Pastas is so interesting and enjoyable, specially the Proxies (glad you took Cody in the ecuation too, cause I like him and barely anyone remembers he's a proxy too)

Since we've already seen the boys in the female proxy au, how would she get along with other girls in the residence, like Kate the Chaser or Natalie? Whether in a romantic or platonic way

Thank you!I'M SO GLAD THE GIRLS GET SOME LOVE💞💞💞

Creepypasta Ladies x Fem!Proxy Reader

You worked with Kate from a distance since she's solo on all of her missions,her job and place in the team being way different from yours and the others

You also didn't know if she liked you because you were also a woman or she despises you because you're also a woman

During meetings she would ask a shit ton of questions about you and what you did on missions until that very moment,fuck,not even Masky is all up in your business like she is

On the rare occasions both of you meet she wouldn't greet you,she would simply nod her head at you.On impossible occasions you could get a glimpse of her face behind that mask.

I believe that if you do want to engage into a deeper conversation with her she will simply listen,but if you manage to get her to warm up to you she would vaguely say a few things about herself as well

Kate might throw a nasty double sided comment or two when there are just the two of you."Managed to calm Masky down,heh?How do you manage I wonder.." ; "sorry lady,I don't have a way with gentlemen like you do." ; "might enjoy the hell of a ride as well,you know best..am I right?"

You remind her of the few good persons she used to have in her life before she was dragged here

Clockwork was into you from the moment you stepped in the mansion tbh

Loves to tease you in both a romantic and friendly way.The fact that you're a woman in a position of power in the mansion over all of those fuckers it's super attractive to her

"Tell him to go fuck himself.What he's gonna say about it,huh?" ; "I bet I can be a better match for you than the demons of the forest,gimmie a chance to prove it to you;)"

Loves a good training with you,you're the only one who can counter all of her attacks,you really set her heart on fire

"You're a top bitch here,all bark all bite.Say,what would you do if I caused shit around here?;);)" she has no shame and will flirt with you every chance she has.If you ignore her remarks she wouldn't hold back,BUT if you do give her a chance she would further step her game UP

The nurse Ann barely talks overall and only engages into business conversations with you

If you have any "lady health problems" she would be the one to have your back like her life depends on it tbh

If you look around for Jack when she's in the infirmary she would simply assume you either don't like her or have a thing for male doctors lol

"No cannibals around,just good old me." she said,legs crossed facing you.

When you tried to make small talk with her she stopped you "you don't have to force yourself.We're just doing our jobs.Besides,the tension makes your veins harder to look for.."

Zero will start shit with you every chance she has.Fighting,blaming,shit talking,you name it,she would do everything in her power to try to bring you down and cause a violent reaction out of you

Does she get along with Masky because of this?Hell naw

Is it jealousy?a love-hate relationship?it's very hard to make the difference

On some occasions,she would act all nice and sweet,super flirty with you, and if you make the mistake of thinking she has good intentions with you she would degrade the living hell out of you

Despite the others,she doesn't trust you to have all of the power Slenderman trusted you with.She sees you below her and wholeheartedly believes she should've been in your place maybe with you sitting on her lap or something

She doesn't stand Clocky but still wants to be on her good side because she sees potential in her.Natalie knows this,but her boredom causes her to engage into Zero's little games

Jane observes you from a distance.She respects your job and how you manage to calm shit down,you're really one of the few persons she could look up to if she's honest

If only you weren't so busy with proxy duties she would come forward to you and warm up more

She would adore the tought of the two of you drinking tea in her room,simply enjoying each others presence while talking about matters both of you can't control

Jane would notice if one lock of your hair isn't in the right place but she wouldn't tell you if you're closer to her,instead,she would simply gently fix it

She gives me mommy vibes

Nina sees you as her best friend,you are the one to tell if it's one sided or not.The way you move,act,and manage to do it all amazes her..you are both a mentor and a friend to her.

She could talk the whole day about how amazing you are,and she actually has a few pages in her journal with notes about you

The girl can be like that one annoying kid at the park that gives you all of their toys just to spend time with them lol

You inspire her and she genuinely believes you make her a better person-a better woman.She lets you know this and even if you don't believe her,your existence deeply had a positive impact on her mental health

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #y/n #headcanons #jane the killer #nina the killer #jane arkensaw #jane the killer headcanons #clockwork headcanons #creepypasta clockwork #clockwork #nina #zero creepypasta #kate the chaser #nina creepypasta

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voraciousvore · 19 days ago

Text

Voretober Day 19: Takeout

Day 1 | Previous (18) | Next (20)

Content Warning: NSFW/18+! Sexual content, M/m g/t soft fatal vore, unwilling to willing (I was in a hell of a mood writing this lol)

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: This oneshot can be read with no context. However, if you're familiar with my stories, Connie is the tiny businessman that almost gets eaten by Chester in this chapter of The Half-Blood Giant.

------ Takeout ------

Connie hated everything. He worked at a Chinese restaurant doing takeout deliveries, and he hated his job. He hated the smell of fried food and soy sauce that permeated the whole joint. He hated the garish paint colors on the cracked walls. He hated his stupid frumpy uniform. He hated his boss. He hated rude, demanding customers. He hated being forced to put on a fake smile and socialize with people. His hated what his life had become.

His old job had been decent, before this hell had taken over his existence. Before, he’d worked at a boring white-collar desk job, where he didn’t have to be on his feet all day. It was perfect, except for one critical flaw: The job was located on the large side of the city, where the giants lived.

Connie hated giants—though he hadn’t initially. He’d been strangely fascinated with them, despite the nagging undercurrent of instinctive fear that never left him while in their presence. They seemed to be just like humans, yet so much larger, so much grander. He had even developed a certain... fondness for a particular giant at his work, one that was handsome and gentle and kind and knew to move and speak softly around humans.

Unfortunately, this gorgeous specimen of a giant man already belonged to another, a human woman no less. The jealousy and resentment Connie felt as a result poisoned any enjoyment he had for his job. He became grumpy and bitter as he was forced every day to watch his crush fawn over another, yearning to possess what he couldn’t have. The last straw came when, on his way home after a late night of overtime, a random giant snatched him up off the sidewalk and nearly devoured him. He miraculously survived the encounter, but he was done with dealing with giants. He quit and refused to return to the large side of the city.

Regrettably, the small side where the humans resided was hardly fertile in regards to employment opportunities. Connie couldn’t find another cushy job like his old one, so he was forced to scrounge for whatever employer would take him. His financial reserves diminished, to the point where he had no choice but to sell his car and move into a roach-infested apartment, uncomfortably close to the gigantic barrier that divided the giants from the humans.

So that’s how he found himself working as a delivery driver at a sketchy Chinese restaurant on the bad side of town. He didn’t even have his car anymore, and his employer didn’t provide him with one, so he had to ride a stupid crusty bike with a big basket on the back to carry the orders. By the end of his shift, he always came home greasy and sweaty and tired. He hated being dirty.

Tonight, he was working the late shift. Business was slow, which was bad for Connie despite less work. Fewer orders meant fewer tips. The phone rang, and he watched with a vacant expression as his bored coworker answered with her dumb fake customer service voice. Her expression changed to one of confusion.

“I’m sorry, did you say forty?” She wrote the order down on a slip, along with an address, and processed the payment. “Very well, sir. It’ll probably be around thirty minutes.” She hung up the phone with a pinched face.

“Delivery?” Connie asked as she handed off the order to the kitchen.

“Yeah… but it was a really weird order. 40 servings of fried rice with zero entrees. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Huh? Let me see that.” Connie grabbed the slip and checked the address. The street looked vaguely familiar, so he searched the location on his phone. His heart sank as his suspicions were confirmed. “Swift Street… that’s on the large side, isn’t it? Why would a giant order from a human restaurant?”

His coworker shrugged, indifferent to Connie’s rising concern. “Fuck if I know. Either way, the guy paid, so you gotta deliver it.”

Connie wanted to protest, but the words died on his lips as his boss glared at him from across the room. He didn’t want to get fired; he desperately needed the money if he was ever going to pull himself out of this hole. He shut his mouth, debating what to do as he observed the cooks frying up pans of rice and stuffing them in countless takeout boxes. He tried to quell his rising anxiety as he stacked the boxes high in his bike basket. His instincts were screaming at him to refuse, as he was reminded of unpleasant past encounters, but he felt trapped.

“The tip for this job better be good,” he grunted as he decisively mounted his bike. He rode down the street, feeling like a stupid teenager on his stupid bike. He navigated the roads, past the occasional car, until he reached the railway station to cross the barrier.

He used to board these railcars every day for his old commute. The automatic door slid open to an empty car, as untouched and pristine as he remembered, and he piled in with his bike. The door whooshed shut and the car rocketed away at a blistering pace. Connie felt the track drop like a roller coaster, along with his stomach, as the car shot down underground below the barrier before racing back up to the surface, to the opposite side.

He couldn’t see much outside, since it was dark in comparison to the lit interior. Humungous silhouettes and shadows blocked out the distant glowing orbs of massive streetlights high in the sky. He felt sickness and fear clawing up his throat, restricting his breathing. He wanted to flee, but he was encased in steel and glass. He gripped the handlebars of his bike with clammy hands.

All too soon, he arrived at his stop. He hesitated before stepping out of the railcar into the human-sized station, which was covered by an awning that concealed him from the giant world beyond. The car raced away, and Connie was alone. His heart rattled his ribs with frantic hammering and bile rose into his mouth, but he forced it back down. He was here now; no going back.

A terrifying memory coursed through him, of his last night in the giant city. Walking alone, through a quiet evening just like this, briefcase in hand, before titanic fingers closed around him in a painful pinch. Thundering footsteps that thudded through him, a yawning maw below that threatened to send him to an acidic grave. He shuddered hard. The giant had, by some incredible stroke of fate, stopped before eating him, and apologized for losing control of his cravings, but Connie had been forever scarred by the traumatic ordeal. He’d had nightmares for weeks about it.

Nightmares, that strangely enough had turned to sick fantasies. He’d dreamed about his giant crush doing the same thing, dropping him into his cavernous mouth and swallowing him whole, and he’d woken up covered in hot sweat and hard as a rock. He couldn’t understand the conflicting feelings that had awakened in him, of terrible fear and forbidden desire, a perverse thirst for impossible thrill and danger. Yet, in his waking hours when he was more rational, he’d been too scared to return to his desk job. He felt like a coward—a lowly, pathetic, disgruntled coward.

He didn’t like that sentiment, not at all. He took a deep breath, hopped on his bike, and sped off into the night. The cool air rushed past his feverish skin as he pedaled like his life depended on it. He could only hope, in the vast streets, he would be too small to be noticed. He was grateful at least to be on a fast-moving bike instead of on foot, though he had to question if he’d be fast enough to outrun a giant predator. Probably not.

Fortunately, the streets were mostly deserted due to the late hour. Connie was jittery and on edge, keeping to the shadows as best he could. The chirps of giant crickets, instead of providing a soothing ambience, sounded too loud to his ears. He nearly had a heart attack as a massive beast of a bug hopped in front of his path like a deer. He skirted around it and kept moving.

He jumped his bike over sizeable cracks in the sidewalk and crossed enormous rocky stretches of asphalt and rough pavement, a challenge that absorbed a significant chunk of focus. Even so, he monitored his surroundings with obsessive attentiveness. In every looming shape he saw an eldritch horror, just waiting to emerge from the darkness and snatch him up.

The threatening growl of an oncoming vehicle, heralded by distant beams of headlights, sent Connie into a panic. He hauled his bike into a patch of weeds as the mammoth metal monster roared past, blowing the tall grass in a terrible bluster. Connie hugged his arms around his bike as he hauled it back to the sidewalk, his heart racing. The red taillights of the giant vehicle turned around a distant corner, leaving him in an eerily quiet stretch of road. Giant houses rose up like silent sentinels miles into the sky, looking down on him. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine as he mounted his bike again. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

After what felt like an eternity of biking, Connie reached the correct house. He rode up to the porch, on an expansive sidewalk that cut through two fields of tall grass that comprised the front lawn. He stopped, unsure how to proceed. The wooden stairs were too tall for him to climb, each one being easily triple his height. Even if he made it to the towering door, there was no chance in hell he’d be able to ring the bell. Far above him, he saw the flutter of the curtains in the window. His breath caught in his chest.

Connie hadn’t interacted with giants in a while, since he sought to avoid them at all costs. Even with the reminder of the megalithic buildings all around him, he wasn’t ready for the impossible scale of the colossal man that opened the door out of his reach. He nearly fainted at the sight: a fat, hairy, gargantuan giant, with a prominent belly hanging out from a sweat-stained discolored tank top that was too small to conceal it. He had a face like a bulldog, with unkempt dark hair, a scraggly mustache, and whiskers on his chin and neck too sparse to call a beard. Huge shoes plodded on the porch platform, creaking the wood under the giant’s prodigious weight. He breathed heavily as he descended from the steps down to the cement, rumbling the ground beneath him enough to rattle the basket on Connie’s bike.

Connie gaped up, speechless, pinned in place like a bug in a display case. The giant scratched his belly and grunted. As he examined the tiny man at his feet, his lips twisted into a sinister smile, exposing large crooked teeth. Connie let out an involuntary whimper. The handlebars of his bike slid through his fingers and it crashed to the ground, dropping takeout boxes full of rice all over the pavement.

The giant frowned, and Connie panicked. He turned tail and fled like a frightened rabbit. He got to the end of the square of sidewalk before a thick pair of fingers pinched the back of his shirt and lifted him clean off the ground. Connie yelped as he saw the ground plummet below him in a sickening rush of vertigo. Cold sweat bled from his pores as a pair of huge dark eyes hovered before him with a menacing glare. A pudgy finger, thicker around than his entire body, poked at him with curiosity.

“Hmmm,” the giant rumbled. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

“H-huh?” Connie stuttered with confusion. “No, no, I’m a human, you ordered from a human restaurant... you must’ve made a mistake...”

The enormous man didn’t acknowledge his words and continued to speak. “And those limbs of yours are so scrawny. Hardly any meat on ’em.” The giant plucked at his chin hairs. “Ah well. You’ll do, I suppose.”

“E-excuse me?” Connie sputtered. The giant didn’t respond, instead bending over to retrieve the diminutive bike with the rice boxes, scooping everything up into a spacious palm. He huffed with substantial lungs as he straightened back up and lumbered into his house. Connie felt sick as he dangled precariously from the giant's grip, the world swimming before his eyes. He was deeply unsettled, being so high up, even more so with where he was being carried. “H-hey, wait a second, where are you taking me? P-put me down!”

The giant persisted in ignoring him as he shut the door behind him. Connie was electrified with fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t dare to think what this giant man had planned for him, but it couldn’t be anything good. The giant trudged into a huge kitchen space, though it felt cramped with his hulking girth filling the space. He held up the bike and gazed at it for a moment, spinning the back wheel with the tip of his finger as if it were a child’s toy, before setting it aside. He opened a cupboard and extracted an immense dinner plate, placing it on the countertop with a dull clatter. He began to methodically crush the boxes of rice between his digits over the plate, releasing their contents and casting the packaging into the garbage.

“P-p-please, Mr. Giant, let me go. You don’t have to give me a tip or anything. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again,” Connie pleaded, his voice rising in pitch as terror shot through him. “I apologize for dropping the food, I didn’t mean to anger you-”

“Shut up,” the giant boomed with mild irritation. Connie clammed up, still trembling uncontrollably. His teeth chattered in his skull as the multitudes of rice orders produced a pile that still looked small on the oversized plate. Connie yelped with fright as the giant unexpectedly raised him up and tore at his clothes, stripping them off with a single tug of his goliath fingers. He plunked the tiny man, stark naked, onto the plate.

Connie jumped to his feet, but was flicked back down with a finger that felt like a sledgehammer on his back. He made another attempt, only to fall over as the plate was lifted beneath him. He bounced up and down on the plate as it rocked with every stride of the giant, until the plate landed on an extensive dinner table. The giant seated himself, looming over poor Connie with his bulging fat pecs at the human’s eye level.

“Nooooo,” Connie moaned, comprehending his fate. He realized that escape was impossible, and running from such a titanic being would be futile. No matter what, he was going to die. He flinched as the giant raised his thick arm above him, and a dark liquid splashed all over him and the bed of rice. The strong odor of soy sauce smacked his nose.

“You’ll do for a snack, I suppose,” the giant growled, thudding his arm back on the table with a crash. Connie jolted, but the panic coursing through his blood and muscles had no other outlet except for violent quivering. He cried softly as a fork with prongs as long as his couch scooped up enough rice to feed an entire family. Forty orders of rice would be maybe a couple of bites for the giant, if that.

“Why?” Connie whined. “Why would you do this? I won’t be nearly enough to fill your belly.”

“Mmmm... for the novelty of live prey, I suppose,” the giant thundered, finally deigning to respond to Connie’s outbursts. He chewed the mouthful of rice thoughtfully. “I’ve heard humans taste exceptionally delicious.” His capacious stomach roared hungrily beneath the table, as if the conversation had whetted his appetite. He swallowed and grinned, a dribble of drool running down his chin. Connie watched the lump bob in his pudgy neck with consternation.

“I’m a person, not food,” Connie argued desperately. “I have a life. I have family. I have...” He stopped, closing his mouth. His pleas felt like bitter lies. His life was torture. His family didn’t care about him. He had nothing: no money, no friends, no lovers. He had nothing but regrets and sorrows.

His thoughts soured further as he thought about his past life, the memories flashing by like the windows on a train. His crush. That handsome giant at his old job, whom he yearned for with all his heart. His reminiscing took a darker turn, as he was reminded of his secret somnolent fantasies, of his benevolent dream man swallowing him whole. Those powerful dreams scratched a primordial itch within him that he couldn’t understand or explain exactly why they resonated so deeply, only that he needed them badly, despite his fear of the deadly consequences.

The giant grinned with droll amusement, observing Connie’s violent emotional upheavals. He dug his fork under the tasty morsel and lifted him up to his face. Connie didn’t protest or fight, slumping limply on the fork as he approached the line of plush lips. He watched as the lips parted before him and the maw gaped open wide, revealing a soggy cavern of flesh lined with craggy ivory teeth. A breath originating from deep within the cavity flushed him with warmth.

The fork thrust him inside. He splatted on the cushion of the massive wet tongue, which rippled with purpose, absorbing his flavor. The teeth closed in a cage around him and the mouth enveloped him in a smothering embrace, the tongue wrapping around him, rolling over him like a wave, weighing heavily on his tiny frame. Connie gasped for breath as every inch of his skin was caressed with slimy taste buds, rubbed down, and drenched with saliva. The sensations were so real, so overstimulating, so intense, to the point where he could barely handle it. As terrified as he was, the experience was...

He was going to die anyway; there was no point in denying, or clinging to false hope, or holding himself back. He let go. He cast aside his shame and guilt and self-loathing with reckless abandon. He allowed himself to unleash the erotic feelings he’d been holding back, to fantasize, to indulge. He imagined the object of his desire, his special giant, his secret forbidden lover, rolling him around on his tongue. This was his mouth, and he had chosen Connie as a treat to satiate his hunger.

He grew hard with arousal, grinding his groin against the giant’s tongue and moaning with pleasure. The tongue slammed him against the teeth, dragged him along the molars, and pressed him up against the hard palate at the top like a passionate lover. He was slurped into a cheek and sucked on, then tossed back over the crest of teeth towards the gullet. He blushed as his heart thrummed and sang with joy. He felt so alive, in a way he had never felt in all his years of life, especially not in his more recent darker days.

He slid headfirst into the gullet, wriggling with unrestrained passion. The walls of the throat crushed him in a powerful embrace as the giant swallowed. Connie could hardly breathe as he was squeezed down, but the pressure on his dick, the heat and the wetness, made him burst. He ejaculated as he plunged down in the throes of ecstasy. Just when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to bear it any longer, his head emerged in open air, swiftly followed by his shoulders and chest, until he tumbled through space and plopped into the giant’s stomach.

Connie gasped for breath in the boiling hot chamber. The air was thin down here and stung with potent fumes. The acid tingled at his skin, eager to dissolve him into unrecognizable sludge. The elation he felt, however, outweighed his discomfort. He didn’t care about anything else anymore. He pretended he was inside his giant lover, and he was sublimely happy. The slimy walls churned and rocked him as he sank into their squishy softness, and the throbbing ambience of the heart beating and lungs breathing soothed him into a state of calm. As he gradually lost consciousness, he closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about his precious love: Martin.

#g/t vore #gt vore #vore writing #vore story #voretober #voretober2024 #male vore #male pred #male prey #fatal vore #soft vore #nsft #v0re #v.ore #v/ore

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sky-kiss · 11 months ago

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A/N: Have writer’s block on my actual story so bad I wanna punch an emu. This is for me lol. This is self-serving. Bad ending, murder ending, sad times, everyone is miserable in Hell ending.

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RxF!Tav/Durge: Hopeless

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"How on earth did you survive this place?"

The spirit arches a brow. He doesn't say a damned thing; he lingers by the window of the little shack. He feels nothing at all, drifting outside the confines of her body. She thinks that's why he's left. It's more enjoyable to watch her suffer.

Joi frowns and pulls her knees close to her chest, hungry for warmth—the tiefling longs for the fires of Avernus, any other Hell. Gods above and below, Stygia would prove a welcome change of pace. But Cania? Cania is miserable, misery.

And Raphael survived it. Thrived for so many centuries.

And you brought that to an ignominious end, didn’t you, pet?

"You can't stay mad at me forever," she whines, perfectly aware that he can. He's been silent for the better part of a half year now, speaking up only to bark orders or demand control of her body. Raphael scowls, turning away.

She's not made for silence, certainly not for this crushing loneliness. It feels like hooks in her flesh and spirit, dragging her downwards. Joi longs for laughter, for life, for anything other than fucking stillness. The bhaalspawn drags a hand through her hair and bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. At least it's something, a feeling, more than just cold.

"I hate it here," she spits, petulant and angry.

"Then why did you come, little mouse? To complain? You've done that well enough."

His voice is rough from disuse. Joi glares at his back, looking away. What's there left to say? The apology rings hollow. She won't mean it. Baldur's Gate needed saving. The cambion refused to budge. An unstoppable force, an immovable object…no coexistence…

She sighs, tail curling around her ankle. She's cold. So miserably cold. "To…make things right, I suppose."

"Pretty words to right your spot of butchery? Charming." At least he's looking at her, still handsome; Joi drops her eyes. Looking at him is…difficult. The spirit's flesh is rent as it was at death: jagged tears in his flesh, courtesy of the slayer's claws. "We could have been friends, allies."

"Why the Hells do you think I'm here? I want to make it right. I'm trying."

And there's the insane voice in the back of her head, pleading, desperate, wishing for so many things. Never that she could change what was; it had to happen. Instead, she wishes either could give an inch towards reaching an understanding—a fool's dream.

Raphael holds his head high, wings fluttering in a nonexistent breeze. "Empty words."

She wants to scream. Or shake him. Instead, barely a whisper, she says, "Please, come back to me. I'm cold." He's warmer, even as a spirit; he's the only warmth she's felt in this Hell.

The muscles in his jaw tense, wanting to fight for the sake of it. Raphael screws up his nose, shoulders pulling taut, only to finally relax. He strides across the room, fingers curling around her wrist, not integrating back into her, not entirely. Raphael likes this freedom. Instead, he settles back into her furs, motioning for her to come nearer. Joi does, pulling the furs up around her chin.

The weight of his wings and arm over her is an illusion. The gust of his breath along the underside of her jaw is just the fabrication of a touch-starved mind. Joi shivers.

"Don't mistake this for a ceasefire," he grumbles. "Your value to me ends the moment we reach Nessus."

"Of course." Warm. Blessedly warm. Joi pretends to thread their fingers together. "Would it mean anything? If I said I was sorry?"

The spirit's fingers ghost up her forearm, nose tucking in her hair. He thinks for a long while. In that space, she lies to herself: he's considering, struggling, they can grow, they can…

But he shakes his head, voice hard. "No, mouse. Nothing at all."

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x durge #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my writing #oc: joi #woops #bad ending

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thealogie · 1 year ago

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I'm sorry but I'm about to treat your ask box like a confessional.

You kind of deserve it, though, because due to your Sherlock rewatch posts I've been forced to remember that 1. Sherlock is a show that exists and 2. that I wrote Sherlock fanfic when I was 13... about SHERLOCK and MOLLY.

In my defence, I was a deeply deeply deeply repressed bisexual who hadn't realized it yet - so all of the obvious and insane gay stuff between Sherlock and John just completely sailed over my head. Also propaganda worked really well on me as a child - so basically I was the ideal viewer for Moftiss lol. There'd be scenes where people mistook Sherlock and John for a couple and I'd go 'huh that's kind of strange that keeps happening' but then it would be played off as a joke and I'd go 'oh yes of course, silly me! Gay people only exist as the punchline! Sherlock and John would NEVER be interested in each other that way. I can't believe anyone would ever think that haha.'

Flash forward to 2017. I'm 17 years old. I've kissed other women by now and have had my brain chemistry rewritten by copious amounts of slash fanfiction. Still young, but wiser to the ways of the world than I once was. The last time I watched Sherlock, I had been 14 years old. Sherlock season 4 airs. I watch it with my mom. It's so bad my brain immediately initiates a trauma response and wipes all memory of Sherlock away. This continues for years. The only times I remember Sherlock exists is whenever I joyfully watch hbomerguy's Sherlock Is Garbage video while I'm knitting or painting or something. Also whenever I have to type in a password for an account I made when I was 13 - because my go-to password was 'SHERLOCKED' back then, unfortunately.

Flash forward to now. I'm 24 years old. And I start seeing your posts about Sherlock. Like a sleeper agent, it awakens something in me. Yesterday, I spent a perfectly good Saturday - one I could have spent doing literally anything else - reading Johnlock fanfiction. I am suddenly re experiencing the show through new eyes, seeing all the queerbait I never did before. Getting hate-crimed on the daily. I'm thinking about Sherlock at work, at my adult fucking job. I'm watching scenes from the show on youtube in my office, quickly and guiltily clicking away whenever a coworker comes to chat. I am considering doing my own rewatch. I am realizing for the first time that John and Sherlock were literally in love. It's the only lens through which you can view the show and still have it be somewhat enjoyable. They literally put Mary in a wedding dress shooting Sherlock in his mind palace on TV. I feel like I'm having a religious experience, I feel like I'm insane, I feel like I'm 13 again. This is all vaguely November 5th-ish for me lol.

Anyway. I just thought you should know the impact your rewatch is having on the population. Sorry for the novel in your inbox. I've been desperately trying to find my old Sherlock x Molly fanfic to read for the lols but I think I deleted it off ffnet. I am both having the time of my life while also desperately hoping I forget Sherlock ever existed again soon. So, basically - thank you/curse you for this.

This is perhaps the best ask I’ve ever received?? I converted a sherlolly shipper in the year 2023? Listen I’d never wish a season 4 rewatch on anyone but I would highly recommend watching s1-2 and the wedding episode for a truly out of body experience. I felt more strongly about this show/ship than any other in my life and it was STILL worse than I remembered

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boxwinebaddie · 18 days ago

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hallowhallowhallow~ my dear, sweet children of the scandy eye-man-candy korn! sorry for the trick, my treats ( ...>.>;; thiiis is why i try not to make promises about postin 'cause, before there was jersey, there was he(a)rsay aka me, the og unreliable narrator w/ great hair *flips* )

either way...it's not you; it's me. more specifically, its a fkn MRI that i have to schedule that i have been avoiding like the plague -- and all my responsibilities along with it. most regrettably of all, dearlings...

i missed the most chaotic bisexual day of the year! :( nOO! perolike call me randy marsh the way i RUINED stan's birthday AGAIN! ( also, aaa!~ can you believe ravenstan turned 22? not my eyes leaking :'} rs really is my fkn angel and my sweet son; i mean that. mi amorcitooo~

...i feel oddly motherly things for him in this chilis <333 ( also he really Hates his bday, but i promise him and jersey did something very cute for it xx ) BUT! more on that later, beloveds! because i am breaking my silence to make a Very Important Announcement:

I Put Jersey In COSPLAY. ;)))))

( ljsDsjldskds crYiiiiiN i'll fix the spelling l8r )

basically! every year for ravenstan's faux, goth heaux, celebprettyboy birthday ( aka HALLOWEEN <333 ) they throw gayven a MASSIVE star-studded, spooky-ooky pacifistic majorRAGER; its THE party!

( probably at whatever the fanciest hotel or hottest nightclub is in NYC at the moment -- or maybe i'll have it at the iconique sicktorian manwhorsion so that rs and jk can sneak off into stan's greenhouse and have a *british tolkien vc* cheeky lil snog ala the climax of rm ;) )

but every year, crimson dawn gayng does a themed group halloween costume ( last year, they went as greta gerwig barbie characters; jimmy went as alan, marj was weird barbie, keny was ken, naturally, and ofc, blonde ravenstan had to go as barbie; it was...Necessary. yw.

ALSO, very important to me that you know that kenny and ravenstan were specifically in the Legendary Hot Pink Cowboy Jumpsuits -- i just KNOW yersey was crying and throwing up; my man looked so GOOD...and bent over an Unncessary Amount Of Times; jail foreVA! )

BUT THIS YEAR!!!!! THIS YEAR!!!!! BECAUSE STAN IS A CRINGEY, BOYFAIL LOSER AND STANIME ENJOYER ( y'all are going to have to pry that hc from my Cold Dead Gay Hands! its is the Right answer! so either get with it or get steppin! Cry! Cope! LAME ASS DORK BOY RAVENSTANIME NATION, WE ARE SOOOOOOOOOO UP LOL! )

they are going as CHAINSAW MAN CHARACTERS. ( am...azing ;-; )

okay...so the lineup Might change? but as it stands atm, i am thinking jimmy is denji ( that...makes so much sense to me, i fear ), KENNY AS POWER IS THE RIGHT ANSWER SORRY, marjorine's hair was already a pink/red color, so i think makima is also just...right...yeah? but, uh...

aNYWAYS WHATS IMPORTANt???!!!! IS THAT RAVENSTAN IS AKI AND THEYRE FORCING JERSEYKYLE AT FUCKING NERF GUN POINT TO GO AS ANGEL!!!! ITS NECESSARY!!!! IT IS THAT SERIOUS.

like...oh my GOOOOOD. if you don't know what the hell i'm talking about, you might have to do some light googling BUT??? WHEN YOU DO PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN SEE THE VISION. i love you so BAD, pierced and yatted up, edgy boy punk rock ravestaki with his hair up,

( shoutout to when teri ~hi teri~ told me that putting stan's hair up is a nina influenced event...too real; speaking of his hair? i think he is...still a little blonde, like maybe just the bottom half or MAYBE oOOH? ill do his lil eboy curtain bangs because...wow. delicious. thank you god. also i know his makeup and his guyliner was FIERCE, BITCH!

also...i am bringing the lipring chain back bc it is my FAVORITE edgy rs hot topic display acessory -- which means it's Also jersey's bc he has...what? TASTE! /for metal, taco bell cinnamon twists, **achem!** a passion for fashion...and also v pretty twinky nerdy emo boys. <3/ )

BUT UHHHHH...listen. if ANYONE ELSE ASKED, jk would tell you to kys and gut you. but...sigh. ravenstan is actually god's angel, HIS EYES ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND BLUE AND LARGE, like??? when he reliquishes the matte black golden retriever puppy dog pout, bats his very long dark eyelashes at you, juts the lil stanopener ringed lip out at you and his eyes sparkle like gothboy rapunzel from tangled...it really is SOOOO over. i would fold. jerseykyle...did fold. sorry, king.

RAVENSTAN ALSO NEVER, EVER ASKS FOR ANYTHING?! like he is SO nice and selfless and kind. he never, ever, EVER asks for anything. jk actually like actively has to try and force him to ask for things; its his lil project because God Forbid that man do one less than saintly or self-indulgent thing...fyi, its that every year he asks for a Sword...

WHICH IS SO INSANE, LIKE ABSOLUTEly NOt--did they...get him a sword...i--maybe? oh my god. i knOW HE SCREEEAMED KSLSDkj )

but back to cosplay!jersey ( god, i love my life. when i tell you this was an epic win for pathetic loser gamer boys everywhere LIKE HAHA i got my FINE ASS preppy office siren boyfriend to wear The Outfit ) which...actually isnt that different to what he usually is wearing, tbh?

( also...getting ur messy eboy bf to wear any kind of suit and get all cleaned up, is actually a net win for normie preppy office siren boys everywhere so he Also Won; like it really is just worth it to see rs roll up his sleeve w the TAttoOOS WWWWHEEEW with the hair tie in his mouth while he puts his hair up...jk like E-Excuse Me *goes Feral* )

the halo was sooo cute btw, als the cheekbone guylighter? HOOOO. so...beautiful. i also think he got a little guyliner or shadow...just so i can have ravenstan homoerotically applying his makeup pre-party ;)) BUT THE IMPORTANTE PARTE IS THAT WE GET GORG SWOOPY FARRAH FAWCET JERSEY WITH HIS HAIR STRAIGHTENED WHICH rs also like E-Excuse Me *GOES FKN FERAL* in...SAAAAANE.

it was probably so long and luxurious, it was rs' finest work literally. i know it was steamy in that bathroom. unfortunately god bless him, rs is probably a little autistic ( y...eah...yeah ) and jk kept trying to make out with him, help, bc he's very cute when he takes his medication like a responsible king to combat the severe gaydhd and laserfocuses really hard on what he's doing ( ilysm transmaquilladorble rs xxx <333

he does all his makeup, btw, bc he's shaky asf and doesn't like to inconvenience the makeup artists; they just clean it up for him...he's rlly good, btw ) does the squint and stan lipbite and tilts his head and very gently holds your face...Wowza, truly. jkyle was like u are so beautiful to Me. rs like....what do you MeAN actually ethereal 6ft tall avant garde haute couture european vogue italia supermodel boy whose hair i am straightening in this lil bathroom in my big ass ratty teeshirt with my dumb eboy hair back in this headband sitting on the the bathroom counter trying not to hit my inhaler like a vape every five seconds because this does not feel real to me??? sklhdk In Luv! )

but yeah...super best cosplay stanime boyfriends DEVOURING! i also just want them to do the serran wrap kiss and have it go viral. also x2 if you are looking for them, so sorry, ik, they pregamed a little too hard and looked a little too fine and are probably making out and ruining the extensive labors of stan's beautiful star tattooed emo boy silver ringed tan hands one of which is in jkyle's very lucious straight hair and the other one is probably hiking up his dress shirt...woops!

Amen Gaymen.

#nina speaks #sorry for being awol i hope this makes up for it #but yeah...wow...wow.#IMMACULATE CONTENt #ravenstan won i love that for him lets go #net win for lame ass boyfail stanime stans everywhere #jkyle really was giving cosplay european supermodel #it was so unserious like wow...the straight hair...HOO #it was an EXPERIENCE also i love rs and his lil blonde eboy curtain bangs like he is so cute to me they so got him a sword #shoutout the kindness katana HE WON AgAIN #nina write the homoerotic bathroom scene i beg #it was soooo intense in there like jkyle as probably about to jump him but rs was too focused like autism moment #ANYWAYS DO YOU SEE THE VISION DO WE UNDERSTAND #ill edit the spelling later we have to cope

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kosmicdream · 5 months ago

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im confident enough to post FFAK, which has anal prolapse, but i dont post the true drama....... my opinions about manga. *dramatic music* sometimes i kinda want to do some reviews.. its mostly me complaining.. it makes me sound so bitter like "do you like anything kosmic!" and..yes ! i do!!! okay!! i like a lot of things. once in a while, i dip my toes into a popular series to try to see if we are a good fit. Series like: Beastars, Dorohedoro, Dungeon meshi,ect.. and i kind. well. I dont like any of them LMAO. I mean, Ok, i actually really was into Beastars for a time, but after the fight with the bear guy (its been a few years sorry) and that story arc concluded.. it just spiraled to laughable levels and did not recover. I was genuinely laughing at it at times bc it kind of felt like a desperate scramble with the like. loopholes and power upgrades.. But I was invested for a time, it had a charm to me! I also loved the art and im curious about the authors next series about santa (partly because i too, am writing a story about santa). Dorohedoro has a great visual style, fun characters, i enjoyed reading but it also kinda didnt ...land for me beyond that, which is a shame. I feel like it is a series that "should" have clicked with me. And its like, not offensive to me but.. I'll forget that ive read the whole thing. I like STUFF in it. but thats not enough for me anymore. If i had read it when i was younger tho, it might have been a diff story. idk. My most unpopular opinion of all is that... I hated Dungeon Meshi.. Sure its ..pretty! cute designs. but i found it SO painfully boring and it actually was a struggle to finish. in the end, it felt like a waste of time.. SHOCKING take i know. That is the darling of everyones heart and i like, understand WHY its popular. .. but for me, i was not fed by anything. i am unfed and starved and going to eat elsewhere oh, and i.. as a person who has read a lot of fighting mangas.. I have tried to read chainsaw man, but i dont know if I can. I did finish Fire Punch. I'm surprised to say: i kinda liked it but it took a long time to force myself to read thru it. I honestly hated many aspects of Fujimoto's storytelling/character acting that i didn't think my opinion on it would change, but I'm a little more open to it now. I dont think i could ever super be into it or whatever, but i did find genuine enjoyment in aspects of fire punch. I did not really like look back. I haven't read his other one shot(s)? Where am i going with all this..I guess im giving some unrequested reviews after all...oops... a lot of this is spurred by how houseki no kuni is one of my most fav series, not only visually/characters/story/ect.. but i cant lie.... the ending... was kind of a flop for me... gorgeous and poetic ig sure but.. AUGH! it isnt what i wanted. maybe it'll be one of those "it'll grow on me" endings but thats mostly me having to go thru the 5 stages of personal grief and gaslight myself into it, but as the like actual honest first-reaction feeling it kinda lost me. I think it did not work when i felt the confrontation btwn phos/cinnabar wasn't the one i wanted to see. i will say tho, while im dissapointed, its not like a DEEP one or anything. I know its a miracle to even get to an ending.. i guess my take away feeling from it was like "everything fit together too well, too planned" but didnt feel planned, emotionally. I wasn't sold on it. Anyway, im here to speak my truth and my hot takes which, i honestly dont even want to have that one about HnK but its the real feeling i have for it.. Once again Utena's ending just has made all these other issues i have with various stories more obvious LOL

#the series i hate MOST is one piece #those who know me in my life #know this truth about me #i loathe that thing!!!!!!#i am a hater and i dont wish to be changed #oda does good color spreads tho

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nogenderbee · 5 months ago

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @hayillaaaaaaa request: Was scrolling to see your posts and i think daily anon hates me :<

Since reqs are open, can i have vbs kaito, rui, an and tsukasa with a gn! Reader thats always spaced out? Like everytime someone talks to them theyre like staring into some clouds or not listening, like the type of person to say whats on their mind, the embodiment of ._., please and thankyou♥️(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

(if possible, can it be headcanons not oneshot?)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Nahhh I'm sure they don't ToT

Also HELP I JUST NOTICES YOU ALSO ASKED FOR AN ILY

Anyway! I relate to spacing out sm so it was like both, calling out myself and writing comfort for myself lol But okey! End of rambles! I hope you'll like it!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ VBS!KAITO most likely doesn't space out much but he's definitely interested in it! He's more the type to constantly think of something tho...

✧ not to the level when he's like sleeping but to the level he get's some cool ideas!

✧ so you two be sitting next to each other while he's thinking of something or trying to create new beat while you're spacing out

✧ what's funniest, he doesn't even realize it sometimes! It's just someone nudging him and being like "your lover's spacing out" or so

✧ but he usually let's you be in your dreams, he's always worried you may be having some nice idea going on and he knows how unpleasant it is when someone breaks your thinking process

✧ he even tried carrying you once it was necessary since he didn't wanted to wake you up... but he obviously woke you up by picking you up either way

✧ so now, if it's absolutely necessary, he just places his hand on your shoulder and gently shakes you while saying your name

✧ he's still curious tho! So he might just ask you what was it you were thinking of but he's not gonna force you to say it in any way

✧ but if you do decide to tell him, there's small chance you're gonna give him the exact inspiration he needed!

"Y/N...? Y/N...? Oh, you're finally awake. Sorry to disturb you, just MEIKO wants to clean counter you're laying on and... I'd rather not to go against her..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @hayillaaaaaaa - come get your soft gentleman~

✧ An may not be experiences in spacing out, but she most likely interacted with people that do!

✧ like in a Weekend Garage for example! She definitely had customers or maybe even usuals that spaced out every now and then

✧ so when her partner's spacing out, she somehow finds it so cute!!

✧ the way your eyes are staring in the nothing, the way that you're so focused... SHE LOVES IT!

✧ definitely tried sneakily taking photo of you just to wake you up from your little dreamland

✧ she's also curious about what you were thinking about so intently! But if she sees it's making you uncomfortable, she'll change the topic and offer coffee for waking up

✧ but if you blush... it might be too much for her poor heart too handle... Because how the heck are you so cute?!

✧ it's easy to say, she loves when you space out and the fact you so that often is like blessing for her! So she's always stealing quick glances at you to see if you're not spacing out right now

✧ she usually doesn't even want to wake you up! But if she absolutely HAS TO... she'll poke your cheek or boop your nose! And if it doesn't work~ she's just like "oh well!" and takes it as a sign to leave you be and enjoy the view <3

"You were so cute! You were spacing out and you were focusing on my nose! Hehe~ I have to take picture of that next time~"

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@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bad-the-an-enjoyer @qxmmi - come get your star girl!

✧ Tsukasa may be suspected of also spacing out... but it's actually just imagination! He's sometimes I'm his world yes, but it's only when he's rambling and who knows? Maybe it's his voice that's do loud even he can't hear others?

✧ either way, he can't tell when you're spacing out and when you're just focusing... but he still wants to help so he usually takes the 50/50 chance!

✧ there are times when he waves his hand in front of your face and guesses correctly

✧ but other time, he does exact same thing when you're just focusing on what he's saying and... it can be a bit annoying...

✧ but he'll apologize if he makes any mistake! And if he guessed, he's gonna repeat whole thought from beginning since he doesn't know where you spaced out and somehow moves back to rambling instead of asking where to start from...

✧ he may get curious about your constant spacing out and ask what you're thinking of, but it's usually very polite, not wanting to accidentally ask you something you're uncomfortable with

✧ he's also always very gentle when waking you up, if talking to you and waving his hand in front of your face won't work... he'll gently place his hand on your shoulder and it's only exception to gently shake you

✧ boy's so worries he might scare or hurt you by accident, he just plays it off safe

✧ it's also pretty hilarious for 3rd party to watch how loud voice suddenly goes quiet just to wake up person that seemingly is sleeping with eyes open when they can't even focus due to how loud his voice is...

"Spacing out again? What are you thinking about so often? Oh! But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bad-the-an-enjoyer @yulikesminori @alicewinterway18 @nenes-numberonefan @hakulivesformusic - come get your future star!

✧ Rui does that too, trust me. Maybe not as often as you but he knows how it is

✧ except you space out during simple chat, and he spaces out when he works!

✧ anyway, thanks to this little experience of his, he inmidietly realizes why you stopped blinking and why you're focusing on one point

✧ he'll first chuckle before waving his hand in front of your face and saying something like "earth to y/n"

✧ if you apologize after, he'll only find it more amusing, he's gonna comfort you he doesn't mind while in fact he enjoys extra reason to tease you

✧ he doesn't mind repeating himself tho, he usually asks when did you zoned out but he usually guesses in his head the moment correctly either way!

✧ he also likes to ask what were you thinking so much about, but it's your choice if you tell him or not, and he'll respect that decision

✧ if he sees you're not comfortable with him asking that, he'll remember it for the future and quickly change topic back to your original chat

✧ but if you don't mind telling him~ prepare him to go "thinking about [topic] again?" and scaring you as he wakes you up, all that followed by his laugh

"Boo!! Hahaha~! I'm sorry, darling. I just couldn't help myself! But you looked so cute with that shock expression on your face, you can't deny it~"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline @r4wrclwz @superstar-ethereal @stellas-starry-stories13 @alicewinterway18 @nenes-numberonefan @hakulivesformusic - come get your crazy inventor~

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otokowrecker · 2 months ago

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Freed from this unholy sophistry

It's done. My Death Mark longfic, Victims to an Unholy Sophistry, is finally finished!! This is a kinda vent post cuz I needa spew but also a appreciation post! Haha!

Ough. Two years. VUS took me two years to finish and that extended time really made me sour towards it. Plus, I have the instant reflex to hate anything I make, haha!

But unfortunately for VUS, it was being written during the worst part of my life so far - a lot has happened in my life during this time - moving into my own place, forcing myself to be more social, family issues and mainly the BIGGGG continual mental spiral - those things being some of reasons it took so long to finish! But because it is tied to this time in my life I can't bring myself to love it. Right now I’m panicking that I didn't do the ending the Justice the Lonely who started writing it wanted. So I'm sorry, past Lonely. I still feel that Rainwater Coffee is my favourite work, even though VUS had themes which I love.

My inspiration for VUS was the manga Sleeping Dead, which I love! The ending was so powerful and beautiful, portrayed so well, I felt empty once it was finished!

But as I said in my author's notes, I am super, super grateful to all the fishes that gave VUS a chance and stuck around!! It means the whole ocean to me!! Despite that being their job, words can't express the gratitude I feel to anyone who checks out my works!! ❤️ I do have a shorter sequel planned for VUS, only because I wanna use a certain guy as an antagonist! (I'm easy to read, you know who it is!) but I want to get other works out of the way, first!!

So again, thank you so, so much if you read VUS and liked it! Knowing that it gave a handful of people some enjoyment is enough for me! ❤️

As a fun bonus, here's the only physical reference for Lady and Mister I have from a while back. I hate having to design clothing, the whole fic everyone just had basic long robe/cloak get-ups when I was thinking about scenes, even though in my head I pictured certain characters having more detailed clothing!

They were a fun duo, weird siblings Vs normal siblings, haha! They're just big fans of the Kujou family, lol!

#spilled words #lonely rambles #bittersweet innit #doodles #death mark #spirit hunter #fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #satoru mashita #kazou yashiki #shiin #personal

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gunkbaby · 6 months ago

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if Shuu was a human what would his top 5 favourite foods be?

ooh good one. This is tricky bc shuu is such a picky eater, but still has this ‘eat the world’ attitude, i think one thing abt human shuu aus rly neglect to compensate for is how closely tied Shuu is to the idea of being an apex predator, but I think you can still achieve it, and I will try my best! i do know a bit abt gourmet food! (There are actually a lot of books abt food critics and gourmet chefs who get 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕪 with cooking)

i feel like is also hard bc shuu would probably like everyone to think his favourite food is something rare and exotic so maybe he would twist the truth a little. Narrowing down specific foods is difficult but I will try my best!

Kaneki’s bussy

Orlotan - this fucked me up when i heard about it. But the practice of eating orlotan is utter decadence - to a ridiculous extent. It’s a bit like Foie Gras - the orlotan are wild caught and force fed to double their mass, then drowned and marinated in Armagnac and then cooked. It’s meant to be consumed whole, the bones spat out, and typically, the consumer is traditionally supposed to wear a napkin or towel over their face whilst they eat the bird. I can’t remember why - but I’ve seen it said that is either to maintain dignity when spitting out the bones, or to shield such a disgraceful act from God’s eyes. The latter sounds cool as fuck so i believe it. I love Jesus!!! I think Shuu would lap something like that up. I’ve yet to find something so dreadfully French in the matter of food, and I think he’d probably say this is his favourite food - if only for the amount of ceremony involved.

Cheesecake - Shuu always mentioning cheesecake in early TG and I would like to give him this one as a little treat. I don’t know a lot abt cheesecake bc i fucking hate the stuff but maybe he’d like something like Basque? Which is just burned custard(?) cheesecake - i was reminded of tiramisu but apparently it’s more of a soufflé. I think he’d probably go for something floral too - rose cheesecake’s probably a thing, lavender, peony. I don’t know if I see him as a sweet/dessert person. He’s more likely to enjoy richer desserts like cheesecake and chocolates.

Dark Chocolate - maybe a sneak! I am a Dark Chocolate Enjoyer so total bias but hear me out (yes i do also like black liquorice!). If it is less than 80% cocoa it’s too sweet! He’d be a 100% kind of guy, because bragging rights. I think he might enjoy it with some fruits, maybe with orange biscuits or raspberries. I think he’d like raspberries, they taste like little rubies to me. Dark chocolate goes good with almond butter, he might make it fancy - foamed raspberry with shredded chocolate over almond biscuits with coffee cream. we might call that a rather bizarre mocha, but shuu would say it’s a deconstructed tiramisu. the reason i think he’d choose dark chocolate is because i don’t think he’d eat sweets. Dark chocolate has a deeper taste profile, in my experience dark chocolate is always unique. This might appeal to Shuu. It goes well with far more flavours than typical chocolate - spices, florals, etc - i recently had dark chocolate almonds dusted in matcha! They were utterly divine. Dark chocolate is highly overrhated in my opinion.

Exotic Meat - this is a generalisation sorry 😢 But I believe it canonical - very premium cuts of meat from animals you might not typically farm - zebra, bear, crocodile, rattlesnake, that sort of thing. It’s really controversial for some reason and as a vegan I should be opposed, but I think wild hunting is leagues better than farming, provided it’s not an endangered species, but Shuu would definitely eat an endangered species. Maybe he likes to brag and his favourite meat is snow leopard, or something. Dodo. Dinosaur, even (he was There).

Fugu (pufferfish) - this is shorthand for ‘dangerous food’ lol! Without the danger of being a ghoul, we have to consider how a human shuu might chase this danger. He might hunt his exotic meats, but I think he might try and achieve this by also eating dangerous food - food that’s poisonous or toxic. a bit of a Russian roulette. I wouldn’t even put it beneath a human or a ghoul Shuu to eat something with worms! (Same tbh. Would.)

i think most of the above are what Shuu might want people to believe are his favourite foods, so I’d like to take some time to throw my other ideas in the ring.

I think he’d take comfort in Monte Cristo - if only because in a human universe, I would take it to be his father’s favourite food. He’d probably be given it as a child or something, so good associations. There’s not much rly to say else there, but the idea of Shuu eating a toastie fascinates me. If he eats it when he’s sad, i think he’d look like that little mouse video, but otherwise I think he’d eat a toastie with a knife & fork.

I mentioned dark chocolate earlier, but of course he might also like some luxury chocolates - i think of these wonderful chocolates i saw once, that had been dyed and marbled to look like planets and marbled, filled with pistachio or coffee foams. Wonderful. Straight from switzerland or italy. Maybe he would enjoy ruby chocolate too? I’ve never had it! I said no sweets but white chocolate has a time and place, but it works wonderfully with wasabi or miso - i made wasabi and white chocolate cupcakes once. Good lord. He would like that. White chocolate and nuts is also very good. When I was vegetarian, my guilty pleasure used to be salted liquorice dipped in white chocolate - but I don’t know if he’d like that!

i think he’d eat sea urchin.

Some drinks too! -

Coffee: specifically coffee with blue seaweed or Kopi Iuwak. He’s definitely tried it, but does he like it? Who knows? I’ve always wanted to try seaweed coffee. Kopi Iuwak is coffee beans that’s already passed through the digestive system of a civet. It sounds like a bit of a farce to me, but i don’t think it’s as repulsive as people make out.

matchaaaa - bias i just think everyone should drink matcha

moon milk - i’ve never had this bc broke but it sounds so good. I think he’d like the pink/rose milk the most! maybe the blue spirulina?

Nut milks - vegan bias but seriously who can honestly argue cow juice tastes better than a refreshing glass of cashew milk??? Shuu would probably have something like pistachio milk, tigernut, brazil nut, macadamia -that sort of thing! Stuff you can’t get from the shops!

People will probably kill me if I don’t mention escargot or frogs legs so. Obligatory mention. Personally I find that to be rather typical and cliched - ooh, mandatory french food! So bizarre! Whatever. Partly why this ask took me a long time to get to, is because I wanted to go through my books and notes. It would have been easy for me to sit here and type that human Shuu would eat lobster and ragyu and live baby shrimp in miso soup, but i think it’s too obvious. In my experience, there is so much more to get out of Shuu when you delve deeper and don’t say the first thing!

i also want to say, sometimes i see how we (westerners) talk about food from different cultures. lots of high-class gourmet stuff seems silly, but i dont care to mock it. i can’t enjoy food anymore, but it makes me happy that some people enjoy food enough to make it a silly and pompous hobby. But i think sometimes we look at frogs legs or zebra steaks, orlotan or fugu, fermented egg, people eating guinea pigs, chihuahua or cat, sometimes we have a tendency to say it’s gross and twisted, but i don’t think that’s necessary. if something tastes good, if an animal has good meat, then why not? eating the world is sometimes a good thing. not always, but sometimes.

This question made me think a lot, so thank you! I was thinking about a human shuu - all the stories you could make up! There’s a lot to sink your teeth into!

I’m sorry if this was incoherent last night i took 40 laxatives and i just drank 2 monster energy back to back I feel very sane!!!!

#asks #thank you for the ask!#shuu asks #shuucore #shuu tsukiyama #Human! Shuu #tg gunk #So much to think about #Food #gunk #ask again. Yes #This ask was so fun #thank you!

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