#salad fingers plush | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 4 months

Note

hi jade! may I request about spidergirl and miguel? I missed them so much. maybe that she never experience valentine's? and she didn't expect miguel to do anything since he doesnt seems like the type of romantic guy. BUTTT i dunno I just missed them dearly :(((

ty for requesting !! —miguel surprises his forgetful spidergirl!reader with a small gesture of his affection on Valentine’s Day.

“Like, purpose,” you say, running your fingers over the plush carpeting beneath you. “You have a divine purpose, and I’m your girlfriend.”

“I can’t hear you.”

You raise your face. You can’t see Miguel, his body blocked by the white of the bed sheets in the way. “I’m just whining.”

“Come and whine over here, where I can hear you.”

You like his voice, so you listen. Not because he’s said it very kindly; he’s too bossy. You also like bossy, but that’s not the point. He shouldn’t always get what he wants.

“Do you not like being my girlfriend?” he asks conversationally, his broad back to you as he shakes the frying pan. He’s frying onion and potato for a tortilla española, a thick Spanish omelette made with ample oil. It’s your favourite of his many dishes, your mouth watering as you stand there.

“It’s fine.”

He reaches back for you and grabs at you blindly, though having a spider sense means he’s coordinated regardless. You slide under his arm, can’t believe you’re there —a few months ago he’d glare at you whenever you smiled at him, and now he’s holding you, pressing a slight of a kiss to your temple without a second thought. Though you’re sure now he’d been glaring because he was agitated to have a crush on, back then you’d thought he didn’t like you, which wasn’t half as fun.

Still, you clocked on eventually. People who don’t like someone don’t usually spend so long looking at said someone’s lips.

“Fine isn’t ideal.”

“You’re too clingy,” you say as you curl your arms around him.

“I know,” he murmurs into your skin. “What do you want to drink this morning, mi hermosa?”

You can’t decide. Miguel makes you a tall glass of water, a similar orange juice, and a frankly audacious cup of hot chocolate. It’s thick enough to cling to your spoon as you stir it.

“Alright,” you say as he puts your breakfast plate in front of you, “what did you do? You haven’t been this nice to me in ages.”

“Is that true?” he asks.

He was sort of nice yesterday when he fixed your phone (though you're suspicious he’d only fixed it so you wouldn’t ask one of your Peters), and the night before he’d been angelic, but that was mutually beneficial. You still as he wraps his arms around you from behind, his face pressed to the side of yours, his lips a kind line. You close your eyes and lean back.

A softness touches your other cheek. You peek at it through a squint, tentative, less so when you realise the softness is the petal of a red rose, and the rose belongs to a beautiful bouquet. You breathe out a gasp of awe. The flowers are a stunning dark red and wrapped in glitzy holographic cellophane. You’ve never seen flowers that looked so pretty, petal edges thick and stems a fresh green.

“For you,” he says.

“For me?”

“Mm-hm.” He eases the bouquet into one of your hands. “Happy Valentine’s.”

“Is that today?”

“Yeah, that’s today.” He kisses the corner of your mouth.

You fluster as he stands tall and moves away. Bouquet hugged to your chest, you turn your head to watch his movements carefully. “Miguel, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, carino.”

He pushes the sleeves of his shirt up and grabs the two bowls left behind on the counter. You can smell the refreshing spice of the peppery gazpacho and the lemon of the salad as he lays it out in front of you. Your stomach growls, but there are more important things to address.

“I had no idea–”

“I hardly expect you to know what hour of the day it is, I wasn’t expecting anything.” He sits down in the chair beside yours at the table.

“So it’s February… interesting.”

Miguel actually laughs as you shove the flowers down and throw yourself at him. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he scolds.

“I love your laugh,” you say, clinging to him for dear life. “I love you, I love your face, I can’t believe you got me flowers, Miguel. Miguel–”

“Don’t act like I never get you anything.”

I just didn’t think you’d do something this romantic, you think. It’s not fair to him. You still have the pencil sharpener he made for you when you’d haunt the workshop unbidden to him. What had he said? Something like Bring it to me when it needs charging. Well, you never remember, and yet it’s never dead. He’s that sort of romantic. “Thank you,” you say.

“Were you still of the idea that I don’t like you very much?” he asks, pulling you into his lap with an unblinking strength. His thighs are solid underneath you.

“Oh, no, O’Hara, you like me too much.”

“Really?” He laughs.

“Really. N’ I like you ten times that much, and,” —he kisses your neck— “that’s why we’re in love.”

He scoffs at your teasing tone, breath tickling the side of your neck. “The longer you sit here trying to apologise the cooler your cocoa gets. Don’t be sorry, yeah? I know you didn’t know.”

“I’m not trying to apologise. I’m mad. You could’ve told me it was Valentine’s coming up but you didn’t. You wanted to make me look bad.”

He hugs you close, arm held firm to the curve of your back. “That’s exactly what I was trying to do. You caught me.”

You lean back. He holds you tight to stop you from falling as you wrestle with the bouquet, pulling one especially lovely rose from the bunch. “Happy Valentine’s, mi vida.”

“That’s cheating, and not even half the effort I put in.”

You press it to his chest and look up at him with every ounce of affection you have for him: it winds him. He covers your hand on his chest, pulling it over his heart.

“Forgive me?” you ask.

He rubs your knuckles. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

586 notes · View notes

live-love-be-unique · 9 months

Text

Put your sweet lips on my lips

Summary: when your dad invites his new boss and his family for dinner you had no idea you’d be spending the evening with your high school crush and sharing a hot encounter in your home library with your parents downstairs.

Parings: Steve Harrington x freader

Warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving)

18+ Minors DNI

“Now remember, tonight is a very important night for your father” your mother says, tying a pink ribbon into your hair. She’d chosen everything for you and your dad to wear tonight, you all had to impress “We need to make a good impression” your dad had gotten a promotion and your parents had invited your dad’s new boss and his family for dinner and your mother was obsessed with making sure everything was picture perfect.

“Honey, Where’s my tie?” Your dad’s deep voice sounded down the hallway, as he walked into your room, buttoning his shirt. “Really Richard” your mother huffed as she went to find the tie that she had so carefully laid out for him on their dresser this morning.

“You look beautiful, peanut” he said warmly as you looked over at yourself in the mirror, hands smoothing down over the skirt of the dress your mother had picked out for you to wear tonight.

“Thanks Dad” you smiled as he kissed the top of your head. Your mother walked back into your room, helping your dad put his tie on.

“I bought two bottles of champagne, do you think that will be enough?” Your mother fussed about, going over everything as you and your dad followed her into the living room.

“It will be perfect, Mary” your father soothed, placing a gentle kiss on your mother's temple.

A sharp knock at the door broke the sweet moment. Your parents stood in front of the large mirror by the front door and made sure they looked as polished as possible, your mother smoothing a few invisible flyaways from your hair before your dad opened the front door, a beaming smile gracing his face. “Mr Harrington” he said warmly, shaking the other man’s hand.

Your dad ushered the Harringtons into your home, introducing them to you and your mother “and this must be young Steve?” Your father said, noticing the younger man as he walked through the front door.

If only your teenage self could be here right now, she’d have a fit! Your high school crush Steve Harrington was standing in your living room, shaking hands with your dad and making small talk with your mother. He looked like the kind of boy you would find in a Teen Beat magazine, with his pretty eyes and perfect hair and his easy smile just dripping with charm.

Then Steve turns and smiles at you as he says your name and oh shit, it’s not just a high school crush anymore.

Your mother ushered everyone towards the dining room as dinner was served, she’d spent all day on the perfect dinner party menu of Niçoise salad, steak diane and an amaretto brûlée for dessert.

Your dad was right of course, the night was going off without a hitch, your parents and the Harringtons getting along like a house on fire.

After dinner everyone had made their way to the living room with wines and port to relax, reminiscing about their youths; telling tales of escapades they had gotten up too, you’d stayed behind cleaning up the dinnerware and taking it to the kitchen. As your dad asked Steve his plans for the future you snuck off to your dad’s small office that housed your family’s library of books. That’s where he found you, leaning against shelves flipping through a book.

“So this is where you’re hiding?” Steve says, ditching his sports jacket onto the small desk by the door.

“Dinner parties aren’t really my thing” you chuckled.

“Mine either, too much schmoozing and trying to impress people” he smirks, falling into the large plush armchair, arm draped over the back, “I remember you, from school, you know”

“You do?”

“Sure, you sat up the back of Mrs Potter’s class. You always had your head in a book” Steve said, nodding his head towards the shelves of books that littered the room.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me, I wasn’t exactly memorable”

“Of course I would” he muttered, picking at a thread on one of the cushions. “So, what are you reading?” He gestured to the book in your hands.

Realizing you’d picked up one of your mothers Harlequin romance novels, something about a mountain man and his mail order bride, you tried to hide the cover of the novel against your chest, crossing your arms over it in an effort to avoid further embarrassment.

“Come on” Steve smirked, standing up and strolling closer to you “show me” he’d seen the blush that coloured your cheeks “it’s a dirty book, isn’t it?!”

“It’s not mine” you protested as he grabbed the book from your hands and opened it to the page you were on.

It was now Steve’s turn to blush, the page you were reading was of course one of the more raunchy chapters in the book.

“This is what you like huh? He pushed her against the wall, his large hands gripping her tight as she felt his large…” he read a line from the open page as you reached for the book.

Steve moved to hold the book away from you as he kept reading, he was a full head taller then you so he had no trouble. In the struggle you ended up between Steve and the bookshelf, one of his large warm hands holding your hip tightly as his deep brown eyes bore down on you with intensity.

“Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the word and I’ll walk away” you didn’t say a word, you couldn’t say anything, not with the way Steve was looking at you.

One of Steve’s hands moved to cup your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you. Body pressing against you as he deepened the kiss. His lips combined with his hands traveling all over your body causing all thoughts to leave your head except for one, Steve.

One of his large, warm hands grasps onto your thigh, hoisting it up against his hip as he looks into your eyes, silently questioning if you want to continue. You nod, not trusting your voice.

He slides a hand up underneath your skirt, fingers dancing up along your thighs and he maneuvers he trails his fingers along the lace on the outside of your underwear, teasing you. He finally touches the growing wet spot between your legs and over your underwear and then he dips his fingers inside you causing you to gasp. His lips pressed against the skin of your collarbone while he continues to slide his fingers in and out of you at a torturously slow pace that made you lose your mind.

“Steve?” You gasped as he kissed his way across your face and down your neck. You gripped him tighter as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Yeah baby?” He groans against your skin.

“I…I need…” your brain couldn’t form a coherent thought, not with the way Steve’s hands roamed over your body, setting every nerve on fire and not with the way his lips felt against your neck.

“I know, I know, I’ve got you baby”

Then Steve sinks to his knees and gazes up at you with those deep brown eyes, watching your every reaction as he lifts your skirt and bunches it around your waist, he drags your underwear down your legs and Steve groans as his warm hands keep your thighs spread open for him “You’re so pretty, you know that, baby?”

You watch as he licks his lips and stares at your body like he’s about to have the most delicious meal ever, savoring the sight of you like he’s got all day to do it, the raucous laughter of your parents drowned out by your heart beating out of your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me” he breathed and places soft kisses to your hips.“please I need to see you” he teases you with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you, your hands are in his hair holding him against you. You moan his name in a fractured sigh, with your other hand you lace your fingers together with his at your hip. You don't even care that your parents are downstairs, the only thing you can think about is him. and, fuck, it feels so good.

Steve eats you out like he’s a man starved, like he’s drunk on your taste. Threading your fingers through his hair, gripping a little as he moans into you.

“That’s it baby, I need to hear you” oh god, he’s so good at this You think as you arch your back needing to feel him even closer if that was possible.

All at once you feel the familiar knot in your belly tightening and you have to bite your hand to stop from crying out Steve’s name as stars explode behind your eyelids.

Steve places gentle kisses on your thighs as you come down from your impossible high. “Oh my god” you giggled breathlessly as Steve stood up in front of you grinning, eyes darkened with lust.

“I hope that was better than your book” Steve smirked and leaned in for another heated kiss as your parents called for you, the Harringtons were leaving.

“Now remember” Mrs Harrington said to your mother as you and Steve rejoined your parents “dinner is at our house next weekend, and don’t you bring a thing!” The two women laughed as you and Steve shared a look.

Another dinner party, you thought to yourself the perfect opportunity for me to return the favor.

Taglist: @m-blasterrr, @mvnsonslvt, @neymac21174, @maybe-not-this, @seatnights, @wheezyhyperfixates, @grunge-the-freak, @ettadear, @artsyfartsytheaterkid, @lma1986

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader smut

472 notes · View notes

tigertales9 · 11 months

Text

Good Clean Fun

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: You accompany Joe to the Hamptons for the white party

Time/Place: July 3, 2023 - the Hamptons, NY

A/N: I wrote this just after the white party pics dropped, but I'm still not sure about it. 😬 I've tweaked it to pieces and finally decided to just offer it up. Hope y'all like it.

Inspo pic: (one of many)

Pic source = white party hotness

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You jolt awake at the sound of your phone ringing, fumbling to grab it off the bedside table. "Hey," you whisper.

"Hey," Joe says. "What are you doing?"

"Just laying in bed … thinking about you," you answer nonchalantly, not wanting to admit you were asleep. "How's the party going?"

"It's … fine," he mutters. "I wish I was there with you."

"Me too, babe."

"I'm thinking about leaving early."

You check the clock on the bedside table. "Better stick it out for at least another hour," you advise, smiling when he heaves a sigh. "I know it's not your scene, but you need to do this, okay?"

"Are you gonna be awake when I get back?" he asks, the pouty tone in his voice causing you to smile even bigger.

"Of course. Shoot me a text when you leave and I'll be waiting for you at the front door."

"Promise?"

"I promise," you chuckle. "Now get back out there and mingle," you order, laughing at his dramatic groan.

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbles. "Love you."

"Love you, too," you echo.

You set your phone down and look around the elegant but unfamiliar bedroom. Joe had begged you to come with him to the Hamptons even though you weren't invited to the white party. Y'all had flown up the day before on a private jet, quickly settling into your Airbnb before ordering a dinner delivery of salmon piccata pasta, caesar salad and garlic bread. Joe had uncorked a bottle of crisp sauvignon blanc, and y'all had enjoyed your meal while watching an amazing sunset from your upstairs balcony.

You smile to yourself thinking about what happened after dinner; you and Joe tangled together on the plush bed, him getting you off twice with his fingers and tongue before putting your legs over his shoulders and fucking you slow and deep, his big hands teasing your breasts and clit in a way that had you writhing beneath him, your third climax of the night hitting so hard you actually saw stars.

You bite your lip at the intense memory as you flop back against a pile of fluffy pillows, heaving a sigh as you look around the tastefully decorated bedroom. The Airbnb is a few miles away from Billionaire Lane where the white party is taking place, but even though it's more modest than those monuments to conspicuous consumption, it still has amazing views, a super comfy king-sized bed, and a huge shower with a built-in bench and several different water features.

You giggle when you think about the shower; you had a little solo fun in there earlier after a couple glasses of wine and a couple pics of your man at the white party looking like a walking orgasm got you worked up. "Sexy motherfucker," you mutter to yourself, still smiling at the naughty memory when your phone chimes; you read the text from Joe before sending a quick reply.

"Thirty minutes is not exactly an hour, Joseph Lee," you giggle to yourself, "but okay." You place your phone on the bedside table before easing off the bed and walking into the en suite bathroom to check your reflection in the mirror. You're wearing a short silk robe the color of pale seafoam green and a lace thong to match. Your face is devoid of makeup and your long wavy hair is in a messy bun on top of your head; you briefly consider fixing it before giving a shrug. "Fuck it," you mutter, walking downstairs just in time to see a car pull into the driveway. You watch through a front window as Joe climbs out of the backseat of the car and ambles up the sidewalk, his slightly unsteady, long-legged stride making you smile as you swing the front door open.

"Hey," you purr, staying mostly hidden behind the door as the car reverses out of the driveway and drives off into the warm, humid night.

"Hey," he mutters, giving you a lopsided smile as you close the door behind him. "You look gorgeous," he says, reaching a hand out to finger your slinky robe as you raise an eyebrow in response. "And you look drunk as fuck," you chuckle, pulling him into a tight hug. "Did you have a good time?" you ask, inhaling his pungent aroma of sweat, vodka and a hint of weed.

"Not really," he pouts, "and I'm not drunk. I'm just a little buzzed," he argues. "Just a little crossfaded," you retort. "Maybe a little," he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when you pull back and look up at him. "But I'm mostly just tired as hell," he continues. "I couldn't relax the entire time I was there because I felt like an animal on display at the zoo. I mean, it was fun to catch up with the guys, but then there were these random peeps who kept staring at me, taking pics and vids." He makes a stank face before continuing. "Some of them even tried to talk to me," he shudders. "Weird as fuck."

"Awww, you must be so exhausted," you murmur sympathetically, pulling him into another tight hug. "I am," he sighs, burying his face in your neck as you reach under his shirt and scratch his back through his thin tank top. "Poor baby," you coo. "It's a lot of work dodging all that pussy being thrown at you. No wonder you're tired."

He leans back and looks down at you, narrowing his eyes at the bratty look on your face. "For a second I actually thought you felt sorry for me," he grumbles, trying hard not to smile when you roll your eyes. You stick your tongue out at him just as his stomach gives a loud growl. "Did you eat anything at the party?" you ask, shaking your head when he lists a few appetizers. "That's not nearly enough," you state, grabbing his hand and leading him into the kitchen. "Good thing I got you a lobster roll when I ordered mine earlier."

"Oh yum!" he chirps, placing his phone and sunglasses on the kitchen island before shrugging his "crochet" shirt off and tossing it over a barstool; he hurries to the kitchen sink and washes his hands, giving you an almost giddy smile as he plops down in another barstool, his entire demeanor perking up at the thought of delicious food.

You preheat the toaster oven before pulling a fluffy split-top roll out of a paper bag; you quickly slather butter on the roll before popping it into the oven to crisp up, throwing him a smile over your shoulder while opening the fridge. "I got it deconstructed so it wouldn't get soggy," you say, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and sliding it across the counter to him. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes."

"Thanks, babe," he sighs, twisting the cap off and guzzling most of the bottle in about five seconds, a tiny drop of water escaping one corner of his mouth to casually slide down the long, sexy column of his throat. You watch the downward progress of the runaway water droplet like your life depends on it, biting your lip when he finally wipes it away just before it reaches his collarbone. Your gaze lingers on his broad shoulders, muscular chest and sculpted arms, the skimpy tank top and smiley face necklace he's wearing showcasing those impressive attributes in a way that makes your mouth water.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, giving you a loaded look when you meet his gaze.

~ DING ~

You jump as the timer on the oven goes off, shaking your head as you place the warm roll on a plate before grabbing the container of lobster salad out of the fridge. "I'm thinking I need to get this food in your belly," you mutter, smiling when Joe groans as he watches you pile an obscene amount of lobster onto the crispy roll before setting the plate in front of him.

"You're so good to me," he mutters, taking a huge bite of the roll as you hand him a bag of kettle chips and another bottle of water. "SO good," he repeats, his eyes rolling back in his head as he devours another bite. "I didn't realize I was so hungry," he mumbles, holding a big hand in front of his mouth as he speaks so as not to show you his half-chewed food.

You walk behind him and scratch his back as he continues to scarf his food, grinning when he pulls his tank top off to give you better access. You continue to scratch his bare back just the way he likes, your pulse reacting to the sex-type noises spilling from his pretty lips. "Feel good?" you ask, sliding one hand up the nape of his neck into his sweaty curls, his low-throated moan making you want to pull his hair and have your way with him. You ponder that naughty thought for a second until your pragmatic inner voice reminds you he needs food and sleep more than sex since y'all have a fairly early flight out tomorrow morning.

"Feels amazing," he groans after swallowing his last bite of lobster roll.

You give his back a final scratch before grabbing his empty plate and walking to the sink. "I got you some dessert, too," you say, quickly rinsing the plate and washing your hands before reaching into the delivery bag to pull out a small package. "I hope that's a euphemism for sex," he purrs, giving you a dirty wink when you cut your eyes at him. "These are better than sex" you state, placing a napkin in front of him before setting two peanut butter chocolate chip cookies on it.

He raises one eyebrow before taking a huge bite of cookie. After chewing and swallowing he narrows his eyes at you. "These are delicious, but they're not better than sex. Not even close."

"I was just teasing," you chuckle, watching in amusement as he crams the rest of the first cookie in his mouth before reaching for the second. "If you think these are better than sex then I really need to up my game," he grumbles, polishing off the final cookie while giving you a pouty grimace.

"I said I was teasing, grumpy cat," you giggle, reaching forward to wipe cookie crumbs off of his lips while he continues to faux-glower at you. "If you upped your game you'd give me a stroke." You flick his pouty bottom lip a couple times until he smiles. "Anyway," you continue, "quit thinking about sex. You need a shower and sleep since we have an early-ish flight tomorrow."

He makes a face before speaking. "I'm almost too tired to take a shower, but I know I need one since I feel grimy." He lifts an arm and gives his armpit a hearty sniff. "I smell like b.o. and vodka."

"And weed," you interject, chuckling when he wrinkles his pert nose at you. "C'mon," you urge. "I'll help you shower since you're so wrung out."

He follows you upstairs into the en suite bathroom, leaning against the wall as you turn the shower on to heat up. You squeeze toothpaste onto both of your toothbrushes before handing him his, keeping a close eye on him while you brush to make sure he doesn't fall asleep on his feet.

When you finish brushing you strip naked before helping him do the same, ushering him into the steamy shower and immediately ordering him to sit on the built-in bench while you angle all of the water jets to your liking. You grab the handheld shower head, quickly switching the setting from pulsate to rainfall before wetting him down head to toe, stepping in between his spread thighs as he slumps back against the tile wall and groans at the feel of the warm water cascading over him.

"Let's wash your hair first," you murmur, placing the shower head back in its holder before squeezing some shampoo in your palm. You rub your hands together before sliding them into his wet hair, thoroughly lathering the drenched strands while he ogles your bare chest.

"Close your eyes and keep 'em closed, please," you state.

"How am I supposed to keep my eyes closed when your tits are jiggling in my face?"

"You wanna get shampoo in your eyes?"

"No."

"Then keep 'em closed."

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbles, squeezing his eyes closed as you step a little closer, dropping a quick kiss on his wet forehead before massaging his scalp. "Feels good," he groans, sucking his plump bottom lip into his mouth as you grind the pads of your fingers against his temples, slowly working your way down the nape of his neck before reversing course. You smile at the look on his face as you grab the shower head. "I'm about to rinse so keep your eyes closed tight."

"Okay."

You thoroughly rinse his hair then grab his tube of face cleanser. "Hold a hand out for some face cleanser," you order, squeezing some gel onto his palm and waiting for him to lather up his face before rinsing again. He wipes the water off of his face and slicks his hair back as you reach for his shower pouf and wet it down, squeezing a generous dollop of his fav body wash on it before getting down to business.

You get him to lean forward so you can reach his back then move to his shoulders, working the foamy lather down each muscular arm all the way to his fingertips, pushing his wristbands up to clean underneath before moving to his chest; you grin when he squirms a bit as you tease his nipples with the frilly sponge, urging him to lift both arms so you can scrub his pits before continuing down his torso.

You bypass his crotch, ignoring the fact that he's semi-erect as you lather up his long legs, upper thigh to ankle. "You better do your feet," you giggle, knowing you could easily catch a foot upside the head if you accidentally tickle him. "Got it," he mumbles, quickly scrubbing his feet before handing the sponge back to you.

You rinse the pouf and apply more body wash, dropping to your knees between his spread legs before matter-of-factly soaping up his dick, still ignoring the fact that it's getting stiffer by the second as you slide the mesh sponge down over his balls and between his cheeks. He scoots a bit lower on the bench to give you better access and you slide two soapy fingers just behind his balls, biting your lip when he moans low in his throat as you massage the sensitive skin, reaching farther back to ghost your slick fingers over his hole a few times before grabbing the shower head to rinse him off. You give him a thorough rinse starting at his shoulders and working your way down, your mouth watering at the sight of his fully-erect cock laying against his glistening abs.

You eventually place the shower head back in its holder and position yourself on your knees between Joe's legs, dropping open-mouthed kisses from knee to groin, leaving love bites where his ample ass meets the top of his muscular thighs. He gives a grunt of approval and cups one big hand behind the nape of your neck as you lightly suck his balls while ghosting your fingertips over his impressive erection, teasing him for a few minutes before sliding your tongue farther back, tickling his hole with your tongue while slowly pumping his cock.

"Woman, if you keep that up I'm gonna cum in ten seconds," he grits out.

"Is that good or bad?"

"I wanna cum," he gives you a naughty smile, "but not in ten seconds."

"Okay, I'll ease up," you chuckle, his well-defined abs tensing under your fingers as you slide your hands up his torso, teasing his nipples while sucking your plump bottom lip into your mouth, giving him a filthy grin before lowering your head.

You hold eye contact with him as you flatten your tongue against the base of his cock and slowly drag it up, tracing a prominent vein all the way up before lapping at the precum on his tip; you feel his hand tighten on the back of your neck as you take him deep s-l-o-w-l-y, feeling every vein on his cock as you start to bob your head; you go deep enough to choke on him a few times, knowing he loves it even if he's too much of a gentleman to push your head down himself.

"Yeah, baby, just like that," he groans, squirming underneath you as you continue your sensual onslaught, dropping a hand down to play with his balls before sliding it farther back to tease his hole. "Don't stop!" he grits out, his throaty groans magnified by the acoustics of the shower enclosure as you follow orders, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continue to deep throat him.

When you feel the first spurt of his climax hit the back of your throat you quickly pull off and take the rest of his load on your face, using your free hand to milk every last drop out of him. "Fuck!" he grunts, his head dropping back against the tile with a thud as he watches you slide your tongue out to lick his creamy essence off of your lips. "So fuckin' hot," he mutters, panting hard as he continues to watch you through half-mast eyelids.

You wait a few minutes before speaking. "Did you like that?" you ask, playing with his slowy-softening erection as he catches his breath.

"I loved it." He gives you a blissed-out grin as you reach for the shower head, quickly rinsing your face and hands before turning it on him to give him a final rinse.

"Good. Let's get you dried off and tucked into bed."

"Lemme get you off first."

"You can return the favor tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." You step out of the shower and grab a fluffy towel, handing it to him as he steps out behind you. "You want some undies?" you ask while drying yourself off, stepping into a pair of panties as he half-ass dries himself. "Gimme that," you chuckle, taking the towel from him and vigorously finishing the job. "No undies," he mumbles, walking into the bedroom and faceplanting onto the bed. You laugh to yourself as you crawl into bed beside him. "Goodnight," you whisper. "Night," he croaks, his voice muffled by the pillow.

After several minutes of silence, he speaks up again. "You still awake?"

"Yeah."

He turns to face you. "I feel like I left you hanging," he says, punctuating this statement with a huge yawn. "Lemme get you off."

"I'm good, babe, seriously. I'm kinda tired, plus I had a little solo fun earlier with that handheld shower head."

He perks up at the mention of you pleasuring yourself. "Tell me more," he orders while scooting closer, his expression a little hard to read in the dim lighting.

"You know how our handheld shower head at home only has two settings?"

"Yeah."

"Well this one has a few extra settings." You give him a naughty smile before continuing. "One of them is pulsate."

"Ohhh, sounds interesting. So you got yourself off with it?"

"Mmm-hmm. I got worked up looking at pics of you so I decided to relieve the pressure."

"That's hot," he purrs. "Why didn't you do a repeat performance just now when we were in the shower together?"

"Because you were half asleep," you state, smiling when he tries to stifle another huge yawn.

"I would've instantly been wide awake if you started going at it with the pulsating shower head," he grumbles.

"Exactly. That's why I didn't do it." You give him a quick kiss before rolling onto your side, facing away from him. "Go to sleep, horndog. Our car will be here to pick us up at 10:00 am."

"Did you set an alarm?"

"Yeah. We'll have just enough time to get dressed and pack our shit before the car gets here."

"Can you set it for forty minutes earlier? Pretty sure we're gonna need a looong shower before we leave for the airport."

"Are you serious?" you ask, rolling back over to try and read his expression.

"I'm dead serious," he mutters, giving you a sleepy smile when you grab your phone off the bedside table to reset your alarm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You do a final walk-thru of the bedroom and bathroom, making sure y'all haven't left anything before heading downstairs. You check your watch as you walk into the kitchen -- 9:49 am -- giving Joe a smile as he places your bags by the front door.

"Good thing we're in an Airbnb and not a hotel," he states, winking at you when you raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because that loud ass scream you let out in the shower would have folks calling 911 if they heard it," he teases, pulling you into a hug when you roll your eyes at him. "Did you scream that loud when you went solo with the pulsating shower head?" he whispers against your ear.

"I didn't scream at all when I went solo."

"So it was better with me?"

"Of course it was better with you," you scoff, leaning back to give him a 'boy please' look. "Your fingers, tongue and this," you give his cock a gentle squeeze through his slinky shorts, "were the stars of the show. The shower head was fun, but you're always the main event."

"Glad to hear it," he gloats, giving you a smug smile while reaching into a pocket to grab his phone. He quickly pulls something up before showing you his screen. "I ordered a pulsating shower head for you," he grins, giving a dirty chuckle when your eyes go wide. "You didn't have to do that," you demur, secretly thrilled that he did. "You know I'm always looking for new ways to make you scream," he purrs, sliding his tongue into your mouth when you pull him down for a kiss.

Several heartbeats later a car horn honks in the driveway, signaling the arrival of your ride to the airport. "I'll thank you later, daddy," you whisper against his slick lips, giggling when he playfully swats your ass.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

680 notes · View notes

angelmush · 4 days

Text

been a while since i made one of these and ppl seemed to enjoy them, but here are my cooking endeavors this week:

- made a couple of easy weekday pasta dishes w pesto (finding it tough to go back to the jarred stuff after a streak of making my own). i made 2 different ones w varying things, crumbles of goat cheese or bacon or broccoli or slivers of asparagus or buttered oyster mushrooms or lemon, generally whatever green-ish thing that was looking sad in the fridge

- had a couple of sort of tasty but mostly sad fried fish sandwiches from frozen cod filets i had purchased on accident. used my favorite pickle chips and kewpie mayo and soft white burger buns, pretty much every other element was better than the fish itself which made for a not very delicious dinner but one that got the job done lol

- a plush vanilla layer cake w blackberries swirled into the batter and topped w a vibrant homemade lemon curd and clouds of whipped cream mascarpone frosting and deep purple sugared smashed blackberries and their juices. stained my fingers but was sticky and delicious and summery, would have been great for a tea party if i’d had one to go to

- i made 2 discs of pie dough, one i popped in the freezer for a future cherry pie (my gf’s request) and one for a gruyère, spinach, sausage quiche im making for dinner tonight bc i have an abundance of eggs and a deep love of breakfast food

- i prepped a chicken for roasting tomorrow, it’s now resting uncovered and spatchcocked in my fridge, coated thickly w a rotisserie inspired blend of spices to dry brine. i boiled some waxy yellow potatoes to make it easier to roast them w the chicken tomorrow when i get home from work . simple + easy for my future tired self

- will also be making a cucumber salad to go with the potatoes and chicken bc we have 8 cucumbers (not an exaggeration) to work through and i need a cold crunchy vegetable to eat every day in the warm months or else i shrivel up and die

- planning to use my leftover roast chicken to make either a caesar salad or a caesar salad wrap or something for dinner the day after tomorrow, something easy to make after a long day at work and tbh very little brings me more joy than homemade caesar dressing and cold romaine

- busted out the ice cream maker !! have plans to make both a pineapple sorbet and a toasted coconut vanilla ice cream (sweetened w condensed milk maybe? for the nuttiness?) so then i can swirl the two flavors together in my little bowl :)

#prepping dinners ahead of time is so helpful for me #and it’s so much more relaxing to cook when things are just ready #i love using my days off like that #recovery #recipe

20 notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 1 year

Text

Leftovers. (Jimmy Darling x fem!Reader)

Summary: Your friend hosts little parties, and insists that you should take advantage of the real reason you all get together -- Jimmy Darling. You weren't interested in sharing, so you catch him on sales duty one hot weekend in July and take things into your own hands.

1.9k! warnings: smut!!! mentioned infidelity, oral sex/blowjobs (male receiving), oral fixation technically, food mention and uuhhh.. I think that's it!

Ao3 link here! 18+ below the cut!

tags: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @redwoodghost @nova-kayne67 @jspehquinn [ask to be added!]

“He’s great…. They sure aren’t pretty to look at, but they feel so good! You ought to try it!”

“I picture them every time now!”

“He comes every Thursday, Y/N.” Becky shook the spoon aggressively, dropping a heavy scoop of ambrosia salad onto your plate. “He’s here for hours,” she tittered. “There’s so many of us girls who need… livening up. It’ll be such a shame when he leaves town…”

The prongs of your fork poked holes in the sticky, white collection of fruit, whipped cream, and marshmallows as you considered Becky’s statement. Livening up, you thought. What a concept. I don’t need livening up. I need a full-on revival.

“Y/N?”

“Huh!?” You blinked.

“Did you want to visit the Lobster Boy? We are paying him, after all.”

“Oh! No, that’s alright, Becky.” Your calves burned, aching to get up and run down that hall, but something didn’t quite sit right with you. Maybe it was the setting. Maybe it was that Becky was always first and last to see him, and the resentment that boiled deep within your core for everything she had was souring the experience. You weren’t going to beg for scraps like a raccoon in the yard. You scraped up a forkful of ambrosia, shoving it into your mouth.

He’s probably not even that handsome.

Exactly thirteen minutes later, you saw how very, very wrong you were.

He emerged from the warmly lit hallway, one glove tucked under his arm as he manoeuvred the other one on. He leaned his hips to the side, avoiding the back of the sofa, and paused to make eye contact with you. He seemed to consider your face, committing to memory the way his eyes swept over every feature; your eyes, your lips, the soft curve of your chin as it led into your jaw and down your neck…

“I didn’t see you back there, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned, almost matching the burgundy of his shirt. “Oh, no I… well, I’m here for… I was… I don’t have any tea at my house, and Becky always has the newest Tupperware. I’m…. It’s….”

His warm laugh interrupted your stammering, which you were glad for. “You ain’t makin’ any sense, but you’re pretty enough that I believe it.”

As he headed out the door, the entire living room was a choir of “Bye, Jimmy!”

You’d finally had enough. Enough of your bleak, pathetic encounters with your fiancé, staring lifelessly at the ceiling while he orgasmed too quickly, and always with his eyes closed. Your fiancé, who you were almost certain spent most of his late nights in the hands of the office's secretary Joanne. Your fiancé who, despite your ceaseless pleas, never wanted you to pleasure him.

That one encounter with Jimmy Darling, better known by his ‘freak’ name, Lobster Boy, had been enough to lead you directly into temptation. By the time you’d made it to that field on the outskirts of Jupiter, the air was thick and sweltering, and the back of your dress was already damp with sweat.

“Well, look who it is.” He shifted his weight, bringing the metal chair forward again. The boyish way he grinned up at you sent a stream of arousal coursing through your core. “You here for the show?”

With one finger, you slid two bills — both of them twenties — carefully towards him. With both hands now free, you pulled the nearly finished (and quickly melting) popsicle from your mouth, pointedly sweeping it back and forth over your plush bottom lip. Jimmy’s dark eyes followed as it left sticky, glistening trails that plagued his mind with thoughts he knew damn well he shouldn’t have been thinking.

“Our show ain’t forty dollars, doll.” He cleared his throat, refocusing. “Ain’t even twenty.”

You flattened your tongue, sliding the popsicle along the length before answering in a whisper. “Good to know, but I’m here for you.”

Jimmy raised his brows, confused. Once you caught his gaze, you held onto it for dear life, deepening it, winding him as far as you could until the implications were plainly written out for him. He swallowed hard, and the wooden chair creaked in protest as he shifted again. You tossed the red-stained popsicle stick into the tall grass.

He looked behind him to the main tent, then back at you, leaning forward to speak in a whisper. “Listen babydoll, I don’t…. I don’t really do that. It can attract the wrong attention for the show.”

“Oh, please…” You drew your bottom lip underneath your top lip in a pout, pleading with your eyes. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday. I won’t say a thing, I swear.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N…” you whispered.

Taking you by the wrist, he led you to the right of the main tent, around the back and through a small patch of the field where the grasses had been trodden down with continued visits. Clutching his hand firmly, you ducked around a dirty white canvas tent. There was something rigid inside because Jimmy leaned back against it before yanking you into his arms.

His hands slid up the back of your neck, sending a wave of shivering chills down your spine. The way he kissed you had you melting into him — his skin was warm and sun-kissed, and underneath the sweetness, he tasted faintly of liquor. He inhaled through his nose, and dropped his hands to your hips, gathering your dress up at the sides.

You pulled back, taking a few deep breaths. “Do you ever finish with them?”

He shook his head. “Nah, they ain’t there to get me off.”

“Well, I am….” As you sank to your knees, your hands trailed down the soft cotton of his shirt and came to rest on the hem of his pants. Jimmy’s brows knit together, and he placed his fist under your chin, urging it up.

“Now, hang on… you paid me forty bucks to get me off?”

You’d hoped this wouldn’t happen, though, underneath all the layers, you knew it would probably come up. Heaving a sigh, you gaze at the grass beneath your knees, focusing hard on all the little blades. Some were bright green while others had shrivelled up and died, having turned a depressing shade of brown.

“I…. I did. My husband, I just know he’s not being faithful, and…. He never lets me touch him. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. Unless it’s for a quick… y’know.”

Your confession was met with silence, but Jimmy’s hips pressed into the underside of your wrist.

“Baby… look at me.”

You lifted your eyes and met his.

“You’re too pretty to beg for a man’s attention… should be the other way around. In fact,” he growled. “I’m just about ready to start beggin’ for you, especially after that little popsicle stunt you did.”

A flustered gasp caught in your throat. “What? What did I do!?”

As he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing heavily into it, Jimmy let out a chuckle. “Comin’ to the ticket booth with a popsicle in your mouth and nothin’ to catch the runoff. It’s the middle of summer… it’s hotter than a June bride in a feather bed. That thing was meltin’ all over you.”

“It’s hot…. You said it yourself. Can’t a lady enjoy a cool treat in the summertime?.”

He nodded slowly, sliding his thumb past your teeth and onto your tongue. “Sure, sure.”

Jimmy was a bright man, he knew as well you did that had been planned. He didn’t seem to mind, though. You closed your lips around his digit, sucking gently as you unbuckled his belt, sliding the strip of leather carefully through the loops. Now undone, the two triangles of fabric fell apart, revealing white cotton, which did little to hide the outline of his quickly hardening cock. You hummed in pleasure, reaching forward to stroke it. Jimmy bucked his hips into your hand, demanding more pressure.

The growing wet spot in the fabric delighted you, and you grazed your thumb over it repeatedly, pulling a melody of hisses and muffled moans from him. You looked up. His head was leaned against the tent, droplets of sweat descending from his hairline, ribboning their way down his neck.

You took hold of the elastic and yanked it down to free his cock. The veins were full, the tip flushed and wet. For once, you felt what it was to be wanted, to be craved. His arousal was in your hands… literally.

Making sure his briefs didn’t slide back up, you kept hold of them and gripped him with your right hand, smearing the pre-cum into your palm. Your hand slid up and down, slowly at first, before you opened your mouth, and took him in.

Almost immediately, you felt his body tense up. His conjoined fingers curved around the back of your head, holding you tight to where you were. His lips parted, allowing a groan to vibrate his throat. “Oh my god, Y/N….”

You bobbed your head back and forth, pressing your tongue along his shaft as it slid in and out. His breaths quickened and deepened.

“Jimmy?! Jimmy, is that you?”

Gripping the base tightly, you pulled his cock from your lips, a string of pre-cum and saliva stretching out before it snapped against your chin. Taking care to remain silent, you swallowed down the sticky accumulation in your throat, then inhaled a quiet breath.

“Bette?” He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. The way his chest heaved, you could tell he was doing everything he could to keep his breathing steady. “Yeah! I’m just lookin’ for somethin’! I gotta fix somethin’ on my bike!”

“We can help you look! Can’t we, Dot?” Bette cooed, her sing-song voice begging more than asking.

“I’d rather not. His eyes work just fine…” Dot bit back.

“No! It’s alright, it’s uh… it’s a mess back here, I don’t want you beautiful girls hurtin' yourselves!”

You peered up at Jimmy with a smirk crossing your lips. The only sound was that of the muggy breeze as it rustled through the grass, but eventually, you heard the softer voice mutter words of defeat as the sound faded away.

You took Jimmy back into your mouth, sucking hungrily. Although the heavy hand of arousal was making it hard to think, you worked harder to commit all the details of this sensation to memory. You’d remind yourself of the pliable warmth of his skin and his tip, paired with the swollen density of his shaft, and while your husband let out ugly, piggish grunts, you’d remember the way Jimmy Darling moaned your name and exhaled the most erotic breaths you’d ever heard.

His hand made a fist in your hair as his hips started bucking speedily into you. You relaxed your throat, letting him hit the back of it as he saw fit. A hot viscid liquid filled your mouth in spurts, coating your throat as it slid down. Jimmy pumped every last bit, murmuring, and whispering broken praises as you swallowed.

Carefully, you pulled him from your mouth and ran your ring finger up your chin, collecting a droplet. Jimmy finally returned from whatever nirvana you’d sent him to, and stuffed his spent erection back into his pants, before huffing out a satisfied breath. You watched, enchanted, as his fingers worked as well as they would if they were normal.

“You’re curious, aren’t you?” He asked suggestively, holding his hand up between your bodies. He brought the thick segments together in a pinching motion, watching as your eyes danced over every inch. “C’mooon… you wanna’ know what these fingers feel like. The way you’re lookin’ at ‘em…”

“Maybe next time, Jimmy Darling. Maybe next time.”

#there's no point to this other than wanting to give Jimmy the gluck gluck 3000 behind a circus tent??? what do you want me to say #Jimmy Darling #AHS Freakshow #American Horror Story #American Horror Story Freak Show #Jimmy Darling x reader #Evan Peters x Reader #jimmy darling smut #ahs amut #american horror story smut #myfics

300 notes · View notes

cartooemcanhis · 9 months

Text

Looking great, Mr fingers!

#salad fingers #rusty spoons #salad fingers fandom #salad fingers plush #doll #plush #dress #horror #indie horror #david firth

50 notes · View notes

wally-two-shoes · 6 months

Text

we have fun here.

#salad fingers #david firth #salad fingers plush #look at him having fun #i love him

15 notes · View notes

lizdonnelly · 5 months

Text

Payback

Pairing: Elizabeth Donnelly x f!reader Warnings: Language, smut, orgasm denial, ass play, fingering Summary: When you tease Liz about a line from a viral video that makes a joke out of her authority, it's only a matter of time until you have to pay the price. Takes place after the events of 8x18 'Responsible'

--- "Oh, that old witch." "Yeah, where's her broom?" "It's up her butt."

Casey tapped at her phone screen and paused the video.

"I still can't believe they thought that was a good idea," you said, catching your breath from laughing. "I can't let her live that down." "Good, her ego could use it," the lawyer said with a wink, getting up to push her chair in. She pocketed her phone, thankful someone else besides her and Elliot was able to get some joy out of the viral video the teens had shared on social media after Judge Donnelly had let them off on a warning.

You flagged the waitress down to place a to-go order for Liz, who hadn't been able to join you for lunch.

"Alright, gotta head back over to the courthouse. Get a couple digs in for me, since I'm on thin ice as it is." You looked up at your partner in crime and smiled playfully.

"Don't worry, you can count on it."

---

"You're not getting a fucking warrant, so don't even bother," Liz huffed, not looking up from her desk. "Good to see you too, babe," you laughed, setting the takeout on top of her desk. She took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose, grumbling an apology. "You're the first one through that door all day who hasn't asked for something completely asinine," the judge said.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," you said, walking up behind her chair to massage her shoulders. She leaned back into your touch, thankful for a moment of peace. You ruffled the back of her hair and walked over to collapse on one of the plush leather armchairs across from her.

"Did they not pack silverware with this?" she asked, checking in the bag and in the takeout box. "I dunno," you said, a wry smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "Did you try checking up your butt?" Liz dropped the fork she managed to find into her Greek salad, eyebrows rising dangerously. "What did you just say to me?" "You heard me," you teased. You threw her a cheeky grin. Testing the limits of how far you could take her patience with you was among your favorite pastimes these days. Liz leaned back and crossed her arms against her chest, a bit in awe of your audacity. "Casey or Elliot must've told you," she snickered, shaking her head. "Figures. Just know that you're playing a very dangerous game, sweetheart."

"I'll believe it when I see it," you said. You walked over to her and pecked her cheek before heading towards the door. "A little birdie told me that judgeship is starting to go to your head." Liz rolled her eyes. "Payback's a bitch," you heard her behind you as you walked out. "Love you too!"

---

It had been about two weeks since you'd last seen your girlfriend, work having engulfed the both of you. You were thankful once you got the text inviting you over to dinner at the brownstone, aching to see the woman. "Doesn't someone look beautiful," she greeted you in the doorway, sliding a hand up your side. You wrapped your arms around her neck and met her lips in a passionate kiss.

"Speak for yourself," you said, tugging at the collar of the starched white button down you particularly loved seeing her in. Her heavy perfume already started to cling to your skin.

Liz drew you back in, beginning to pepper kisses across your jaw and down your neck. "My office, now," came her voice, breath hot on your ear. You both made your way down the hall to her home office, her hands firm at your hips and guiding you along the way. You kissed and nipped at her, unable to think of anything else but finally getting some time alone with the woman. Dinner could certainly wait.

"Someone's all fired up," you chuckled as you reached the dimly lit room. Something else twinkled behind the lust in Liz's eyes as she sat down behind her desk. She tilted her head back and a cocky expression settled across her face. You followed her, but dropped to your knees before her instead of climbing into her lap.

You began pressing kisses up one her pant legs, hands scaling up to the arms of the office chair as you reached her belt. You looked up at her and nuzzled against the spot between her legs. She met your gaze with a half-lidded stare, a smirk playing at her lips. You reached for her belt. "No," she said flatly.

Your eyes narrowed as she took your hands into hers and off of her pants. "Don't act like you've earned that," she told you slyly. Liz patted her thigh. "Up." You whined, but obligingly laid across her lap onto your stomach. You hushed once you felt her hands begin to stroke at the back of your thighs. A moan rose in your throat when you felt her tug off your pants and nudge your legs further apart. "And you had the nerve to tell me I was the one 'all fired up'..." she teased, trailing a finger over the wet spot that had started to form on your panties. Thankfully, Liz was swift in pulling them down, and you shifted your legs to help slide them all the way off. You let out a startled moan as you felt two of her fingers dive into your pussy without warning.

"Oh god..." you panted. Liz was uncharacteristically quiet and quick to action, usually praising how well your pussy felt around her and savoring the process of making love to you. You weren't able to question it for long, though, as the corners of your mind began to grow fuzzy when her thumb began swiping circles around your clit. It seemed like she wanted to give it fast and hard tonight. "Fuck, please...please," came your voice raggedly, feeling the waves of your orgasm begin to rise as she relentlessly pumped her fingers in and out of you. You knew you wouldn't be able to last long at the pace she was going at. Just as you felt yourself begin to reach your peak, nails digging into the side of her arm, you felt her remove her hands from you. You cried out in frustration, sweat dripping down your forehead. Liz slid a wet hand up your thigh, cupping at your ass. "Remember what I said about payback, sweetheart?" she finally said, snickering. You groaned.

"Be a good girl, and you might get what you want," came her cool voice, both hands beginning to massage the globes of your ass, occasionally pulling them apart. Your brow knitted in confusion, but everything clicked once you felt her start to trace around the edge of your tight hole. "What's your safe word?" you heard her ask above you. "Red," you answered, chest rising and falling heavily. Although you figured what was coming at this point, you still gasped when she eased a finger inside and slowly began fucking your ass.

"There we go, darling" she cooed. The remnants of your brain that weren't completely sex addled were thankful Liz was returning to more of what you usually knew her to be like in bed.

"Just relax."

You decided it'd be best to finally cave in and follow her orders, trying your best to calm your breathing despite the fact that your clit still throbbed. Soon, she slid another finger in, continuing to pump in and out of you. You clawed at her arm, pussy aching and desperate now.

"You're doing so well," came Liz's voice softly. "See, it isn't so bad once you stop being such a fucking brat." She pulled her fingers out of you, and you were surprised to find yourself missing them. You had just started to enjoy the sensation and the idea of her so thoroughly having her way with you.

"God, Liz, just please let me-"

She spanked one of your cheeks before shifting to grab something in a bag under the desk. Not long after, she nudged you. "Shut up and bend over the desk." Wearily, you obliged. The judge spread your legs further. You sucked air in through gritted teeth at the feeling of something cool teasing against your ass. Liz leaned over you and used her free hand to turn your head, sliding her tongue in your mouth as she plugged you. What was left of your brain melted. She kissed you thoroughly while her thumb pressed at the base of the toy. Despite it being a punishment, you found yourself getting wrapped up in the eroticism of it all, heat continuing to build between your thighs. Suddenly, she withdrew her mouth from yours, leaving a trail of saliva dripping down your chin. Liz nuzzled up against your ear and whispered hotly. "Tell me something." You were too far gone at this point, whining and bucking your hips up into her frame. She grasped at the back of your head. Her nails lightly dug into your scalp. "Answer me, and I'll let you cum." Tears of frustration pricked at the edges of your eyes as you squeezed them shut, lifting your head from the desk. "Wh...what?" Her thumb returned to the base of the plug and pressed it. "Where's the toy?"

#elizabeth donnelly x reader #elizabeth donnelly

43 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Maybe Bob when the reader is on her period, I think he's the type of boyfriend or husband to make a gift baskets filled with all the things and he will do face masks and eat chocolate and watch tv with her

join top gun night!

When you step out of the bathroom, fluffy robe tickling the skin of your neck, Bob already has his headband on. It's pastel blue, with a plush bow on the top, and it holds back the wisps of hair that threaten to get in the way of the face mask in your hand.

"Better?" He murmurs into the pudge of your cheek when you plop down in his lap. You nod, refreshed from your shower, and peel open the foil packaging of the mask. turning on his thigh to stick it over his face.

He shuts his eyes obediently to avoid the slimy mask substance leaking into them. You take the time to admire how his lashes rest on his cheeks, pinpricks on his skin that the mask frames. Once his is securely in place you tap his nose, and he gets to work on yours.

"Strawberry," He hums, inhaling the sweet scent of the product.

You hum, high in your throat, "I wanted to smell nice."

"You do," He confirms, eyes twinkling in adoration, "Did you start using that new hair rinse that you bought?"

"Yep," You grin, though he pokes the sides of your mouth back into place so that he can apply the mask, "Green apple scented. Can you smell it?"

He leans into your hair, still damp, and inhales. His face bleeds into a grin that messes up his own mask, but neither of you care because of how pretty it is.

"You smell like a fruit salad," He hums, tongue ghosting along his lips to catch some of his blueberry chapstick. He leans in, lips overly puckered, and blinks dramatically, "Come get another fruit."

You're barely able to pucker your own lips for the giggles that break through them, but you manage to kiss him over and over and over again, masks touching and sticking together to leave your faces a slimy mess. You kiss until there can’t possibly be any area of your skin untouched by the masks, solution glistening on your skin.

“I think we’re done,” Bob chuckles, eyes crinkled at the corners as goo drips down his neck. You swipe it up with your fingers, peeling the mask off of his face and smearing it over his chin.

“You smell like watermelon,” You hum, dewy nose against his own.

“Yet another scent for your collection,” He muses, a drop of solution mucking up his eyelashes as he blinks, “Want me to rub yours in?”

“Please,” You nod, and his fingers are on your face in seconds. They rub the gel gently into your skin, moving in soft, soothing circles that make you swoon.

"You're melting," He chuckles, and you blearily blink at him. There's a teasing glint in his eyes as he pinches your gooey cheeks, but you can't shake him off yet, your mask isn't rubbed in. He abuses his privilege, pinching and prodding and poking at the chub of your cheeks until the gel is completely gone.

"There." He grins, matter-of-factly, "Done."

"Thanks, Bob." You hum, leaning forward with your newly moisturized face to plant it in his chest. You hear him chuckle again, feel the rumble in his chest, and nose deeper into his shirt.

"Take a nap," He suggests, and you hear the click of his phone unlocking, "I'll stay here all day if that's what you want, honey."

#bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x you #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader

241 notes · View notes

r4tr1cc · 28 days

Text

sketch

also ordered the salad fingers plush so yeap :]

#invaderzim #salad fingers #shitpost

18 notes · View notes

shyphonics · 19 days

Text

Salad Days, Chapter 6: Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl

(Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory here

Light sex warning for the beginning- 18+ plz

This chapter took me a while - I wrote the beginning the same night I wrote the first and second chapters. Then I realized I think I'm more comfortable writing horrific and sad moments than sweet moments and I kinda froze trying to fill the plot in around it lol.

Thank you so much to everyone reading this!!! The fact that it's actually getting notes makes me really, really happy :)

Also this chapter's run of songs contains a secret song in the spotify playlist oooooh

Oh my mama mama mo-my-mum

Have you kept an eye, an eye on your son?

I know you've got problems, you're not the only one

Since your sugar left, left you on the run

The gas cans felt good in his hands. Heavy. Smooth plastic snug in his fingers. His grip was tight. He reveled in the sound of the liquid sloshing around. The unmistakable smell.

Everybody fucking hated him. Every second of every day, he felt like his brain was on fire. A full body burn begging him to get out.

Get out now.

It's not like anyone was inside. The old library had been gutted weeks ago. They were supposed to demolish it next week. If he really thought about it… he was doing them a favor.

Yeah. So do it. Who gives a fuck.

He busted a window and stuck his leg inside, stepping into the decayed, old building. It smelled like dust. It smelled like school.

Stupid Frank and Susan.

Stupid Heather Hills.

Stupid Rodrick. Going nowhere, doing nothing, being nothing. Stupid.

The smell was strong, but he liked it.

He grinned, he nearly hyperventilated as he doused as much as he could.

Dizzy in his head, laughing maniacally

Breathing in fumes, killing brain cells.

What did it matter.

He shook the last drops out of the second can and tossed it across the room.

He struck a match. Let it burn out.

Struck another. Toss.

The fire erupted.

He stood there to watch it for a second, and ducked back out the window.

He knew he wouldn't have much time to admire his work, so he started running.

Deep into the woods.

He stopped and saw a ball of flames rise in the distance. The ground rumbled. His eyes went wide. He ran all the way home.

Nobody even knew he was gone. He'd left music playing in his room so it'd sound like he never left.

He watched the living room from the top of the stairs. A news report was on.

The library was directly on top of an open gas line. No fucking kidding.

Half the street went up in flames.

It's not like there was much on that street anyway, besides a strip mall with one or two active tenants. Closed for the night. No injuries reported.

His mom was crying. His dad was in shock. Greg and Manny were already asleep.

How could something like this happen? his mom whispered.

They're saying it was just some freak accident. They can't put it out. It's going to burn straight down to the foundation. Frank, incredulous.

Rodrick was silent.

Words to memorize

Words hypnotize

Words make my mouth exercise

Words all fail the magic prize

Nothing I can say when I'm in your thighs

“Hey,” a cool hand on his face, “where are you? Are you okay?”

He’s sent flying back to reality suddenly, looking up into your eyes. He looks frazzled. He’s not sure where that came from. All he knows is that he can never tell you.

“I'm fine,” he breathes, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing. Like he’s making sure you’re real.

How could he not be fine? The realization of what's going on hits him like a brick and he squeezes you harder.

He looks up at you like you're a goddess. Hips perfectly situated on his, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. Every subtle movement you make sends a twitch through his body. Breath hitching through plush pink lips, mouth agape.

“I'm fucking amazing,” he sighs.

“Okay, good. Thought I lost you for a second.” you smile, placing a hand on his chest. His heart is racing.

You move your hips, just a little, testing the water.

He throws his head back and huffs, moving with you. He always figured that this- all of this- would be good, but he never dreamed it would be this good. It must be something special about you, he thinks.

You keep smiling down at him.

“If you wanna pick it up a little bit, go ahead,”

“P-pick it up?”

You raise yourself up off him a little, and then send yourself back down. He shudders, a grin spreading across his face. You keep it up, laughing softly, slowly bouncing up and down, skin slapping skin. Obscene, wet sounds. A groan comes from deep within his throat. He's thrusting up to meet you, knuckles white on your hips.

You haven’t had an impressive amount of sex in your life, but you’ve certainly had some experiences. Nothing has ever been like this. Rodrick is looking at you- not your body- he’s looking into your eyes. His eye contact has a sense of pleading, his lips are trembling. You lean down to kiss him. It’s tender. It’s intimate. You’d figured he’d be quick and chaotic. Experienced, maybe, but not learned.

Everything just feels so good.

His hands are gentle on your back, rubbing up around your shoulder blades. You feel his hips roll, and it sends waves of heat through your body. You keep a slow and passionate pace together, it feels like your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other.

“I can't believe that you… I…” Rodrick breathes, his brain turned to mush.

“I know,” a sharp breath leaves you as he hits a certain spot.

You speed up, both of you seeming to know what you need. Your bodies glisten with sweat, and you throw your head back, hands anchored to his shoulders. His hands move up to your chest, gently squeezing, then ghosting down your ribcage. His hands- so large, so strong. They’re slightly weathered, calloused from his drumsticks, and they’re so warm. His bony hips poke into your thighs with every thrust. You can just feel him. All of him.

Then you feel him twitch inside of you.

“I think I…” Rodrick gasps.

You look down at him, your eyes warm, reassuring him. You feel close too, still warmed up from earlier. He ruts up into you, flushed and panting. You feel yourself squeeze around him, your vision blurring slightly, as a rush of tingles runs through your whole body, and that seems to send him over the edge. He stops suddenly, breathing heavily, holding your hip down onto his, the other cupping your face. His eyes squeeze shut, then open wide, and roll back into his head.

You both sit and recover for a second, gasping for air, looking at each other. You roll off of him, and lay next to him, exhausted. He reaches out desperately to grab your thigh, as you turn to your side and throw your arm over his chest. You reach up and feel his cheek. His skin is hot, and slightly stubbled.

“I’m glad I didn’t wait.”

“You were gonna wait?” He pants.

“I don’t usually do that. That fast. But now I know.”

“Know what?” He turns his head to look at you, eyes tired.

“That I really, definitely like you.”

He laughs, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“I really, definitely like you too.”

You wriggle the comforter out from underneath you, and throw it over the both of you. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, hands on each other, legs tangled.

For the first time in a long time, Rodrick dreams of absolutely nothing.

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand

Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?

Lose sensations, spare the insults, save them for another day

I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away

Rodrick wakes up before you, lifting his head in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings. Until he feels your arm draped over him, and remembers where he is. It’s still early, and you’re dead asleep. He smiles, pulling you closer to him. He gazes over your face, lit up in the early morning light. You stir, coming to rest your head on his bare chest, and he’s so happy he could cry.

“Go back to sleep,” you mumble.

He does.

You wake once the sun is all the way up, blinking at the beams coming in through your window. Rodrick has an iron hold on you, and little snores are coming from him.

You can see your alarm clock from where you are, and it’s a little after 9 AM.

You turn slightly onto your back, and feel Rodrick moving.

“You up?” You look over at him. His eyelids are heavy, and there’s a lazy smile on his face.

“I’m up,” he sighs.

“Glad you didn’t sneak out on me.” You chuckle.

“Why would I do that?” His voice is sleepy, and a little whiny.

“I don’t know. Boys are weird.”

He gives you one last squeeze before he lets you up.

“You wanna shower?” You ask, running a hand through your hair.

The water is warm, and you can finally see Rodrick’s lanky body in all its glory. Steam fills the bathroom, and his face is slightly flushed.

“So, last night,” Rodrick stretches under the stream of water. You find yourself admiring the lightly defined muscles in his back, and fighting the urge to smack his ass. Maybe later.

“What about it?” You smirk, squeezing some body wash onto a washcloth.

“It was… real? Like, it happened, right?” He turns around, eyebrow raised, grinning smugly.

“As far as I'm aware,” you laugh, beginning to scrub yourself.

Rodrick pauses, water running down his shoulders.

“Wow,” he smiles, then his face falters just a little, “and… you enjoyed it?”

You give him a look, wringing out your washcloth. Instead of answering him, you just step forward and kiss him, warm water flowing over you. Your hands travel over his body, slick with water and soap. You pull away.

“Duh.” You smile.

You dry off. Rodrick's wet hair is wild, and he still has a little bit of eyeliner on.

He grabs his clothes from the night before, and you stop him.

“Are you sure about that?”

He freezes, holding his boxers with the tips of his fingers, like a deer in the headlights.

“I can… turn ‘em inside out,”

“Ew. I have clothes you can wear,” you laugh, “boxers make good pajamas, and most bands don't really make women's shirts.”

“Really?”

You toss him a pair of plain, black boxers, then get an idea. You head to your closet, where you keep your band merch.

“Y'know what? I'm returning the favor. You look like a medium.” You root through the box, and toss him a shirt with your band’s logo on the front. He holds it up to himself and smiles. You find your Löded Diper shirt, discarded along with your purse by the front door, and put it on. As you come back, he's pulling the boxers on, and you take your chance.

Smack.

“Hey!” he yelps, turning to face you, blushing just a little.

He sees your shirt, and a giddy grin appears on his face.

You find yourself at the coffee shop across the street, sitting on the little patio. The streets are packed with groups of people, enjoying the spring day. Rodrick mangles a croissant as you sip from a large, white mug. You appreciate the fact that the two of you can sit in a comfortable silence like this. You flip through the local alt paper, The Eye.

“Ooh, there's a Pyramid show tonight, my friend’s band is playing. That'd be a good place to show you. They have an entire wall of pinball machines.”

“Are you friends with all the bands?” Rodrick asks, pouring 4 packets of sugar into his coffee at once.

“Not all of them. But a lot of them. I try to network.” You shrug, reading through the event calendar.

“All the major bars are kind of in one strip, with a few outliers. Then you have your DIYs and house venues.”

Rodrick sips his coffee, makes a face, and adds 2 more sugar packets.

“Do you think we have a chance at any of them?”

“You guys are gonna have good word of mouth after last night,” you nod, “I bet in a week you'll have an offer from Pyramid or Dime Store.”

“Wow,” Rodrick breathes, assuming that must be really good.

“It looked like your guys got along with everyone, too, and Mike likes you. You've got a great start. You might even get to open for a real band once they start coming in the summer.” You smile at him, looking up from the paper.

“We are a real band,” he looks confused.

“Yeah, but, y'know. A touring band. The Casualties are coming back this summer… Circle Jerks usually run through with Descendents once a year, D.R.I. has been on a ‘retirement tour’ for the past few years,” you say, adding air quotes, “your name's on the opener list now. And most of the time, picking someone from that list falls to me… but don't expect any obvious nepotism. I try to match people up by sound.”

Rodrick grins, stars in his eyes.

“Do any bands around here, um,” he pauses, unsure how to word it, “make it?”

“Sometimes,” you lean back, thinking, “it's hard nowadays. There was this super popular indie band last year. They got picked up to be on a movie soundtrack, and they're huge now. That's what sells, these days. I'll let you work out the irony of indie selling.” You smirk.

“So, what? Heavier bands are just shit out of luck?” He takes another sip of his sugary coffee.

“That's how it goes,” you shrug, “you give up most of the hope of being famous to be a real musician. There's a reason that even huge punk bands are still just playing at bars instead of stadiums. It was never marketable. Punk’s not even a genre anymore. To me, it's having the attitude of ‘I’m pissed off, and I'm making it your problem.”

Rodrick laughs, “Okay, I do like that.”

You finish the last of your coffee, and roll up your paper, tucking it in your bag.

“You ready?” You stand up, stretching.

“For what?” he looks at you, draining his mug.

“I'm gonna show you the strip, rookie.”

You smile, holding your hand out, and he takes it.

“The Strike’s back that way, you’ve already seen it. There’s a pretty big gap of old shops and abandoned buildings from here to there.”

You lead him down the street, pointing out bars. Most of them will be closed until the late afternoon.

“There’s Pyramid, there’s Dime store. That one’s cool, the upstairs is a drag bar called Fluorescence, and the downstairs is a dive called Dim Bulb.”

Rodrick laughs, taking in the sights of the street.

“First time I ever came down here, I was with a bunch of friends who were 21, and I was still 19. Dim Bulb is all ages if you put the X’s on your hands, but Fluorescence is strictly 21+. My friends went upstairs. Downstairs was dead that night. They told me to wait in the bar and not go off walking by myself, but…”

“You went off walking by yourself?” Rodrick smirks at you.

“How’d you know?” You chuckle, “Yeah, and I had just gotten these leather pants, and I felt so fucking cool. But I was so stupid. And this gross, old guy stopped me and asked if I was ‘working’, and I said ‘no, fuck off, get away from me’,” you say, your tone nonchalant.

Rodrick raises his eyebrows, his mouth falling open.

“So, he starts chasing me down the street, yelling, ‘I’ll kill you’, and I was yelling back all this bullshit, just totally bluffing,”

You stop in front of a bodega along the street.

“And the guy who owns this place came out and scared the guy off. He’s good people.”

You wave at the man inside, who perks up and waves back.

“That place has everything. 9-volt batteries, first aid stuff, you name it. If you find yourself in a jam, head over there.”

Rodrick looks through the windows as you walk by.

“This whole street is, like… a tiny little town all on its own. Also, I'm glad you didn't get murdered.”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, looking over the strip, feeling proud, “it really is. I love it here. I’m glad I could show you around. And thanks.” You laugh, squeezing his hand.

You keep walking, down towards the point where the bars end and the shops begin. Rodrick walks slowly, swinging his hand with yours. He keeps his head on a swivel, trying to take in all there is to see. Old neon signs, graffiti-covered brick walls, and show fliers absolutely everywhere.

“I think you’re gonna like this place,” you turn to look back at Rodrick, who looks absolutely awestruck.

The bell on the record store door rings, and you're greeted by the familiar woman behind the counter, Jennifer. She’s tall and muscular, with a smoker’s voice, and impeccably curled baby bangs.

Rodrick stops as the door closes behind him. It’s a cozy, dark little room. There are houseplants everywhere, among long boxes of records on high tables. The walls are exposed brick, and light is coming in through two long, skinny windows. An orange cat rests on one of the tables, in a sunbeam. The walls are completely covered in posters, framed records, and old fliers.

“It's you! I have pulls for you,” she looks over thick-rimmed glasses at you, reaching under the counter, then sees your shirt, “what in the hell is that?”

You look down at the bold, white letters on your shirt and laugh.

“Best new band in this town. You really haven't heard of them?” You say, teasingly.

“Diaper…?” she squints, looking at you, bewildered.

“I'm just messing with you, they played their first show last night. This is the drummer, Rodrick,” you gesture to Rodrick. He approaches the counter and sticks out his hand, smiling politely.

Jennifer looks back to your shirt, then at Rodrick.

“Kid, I'll level with you. There are worse names out there.” She barks out a laugh, looking down at her hands, both being used to hold a stack of records.

Rodrick notices, and retracts his hand, laughing nervously.

You kill about an hour in the shop, looking at all the things Jennifer has hidden for you over the week. It was once a very kind thing she did when you were flat broke and new in town, but she kept it up as a tradition, because she said you got it.

Rodrick exhausts each box, looking in amazement at all the different records. 'Dad Rock,' 'Punk Rock,' 'Rockabilly,' 'Psychobilly,' 'Synth Shit for Weirdos.'

The ‘misc.’ box contains a Jane Fonda home workout, a square dancing instructional record, and a full album of canine heartbeats, meant for veterinary students. Rodrick pulls it out and looks at it, reading the cover in confusion.

“See something cool?” You perk up and walk over to him, reading the record.

“Canine Heart Sounds? Is that a band?” You squint. He stays quiet, holding in a laugh.

“‘4-10 acquired murmurs', what the fuck?”

You see the text for ‘Berkeley Medical Veterinary Group’ and let out a cackle, lightly punching Rodrick on the shoulder. He breaks too, putting the record back in the box.

“You totally thought I was all cool and underground for a second.” Rodrick laughs.

You leave the record shop, and you decide to take him to see everything. You try on leather jackets way beyond your means at the biker shop, spiked collars at the goth shop, and hats at the western shop. You point and laugh at each other the whole way, except that some of that leather had looked pretty good on Rodrick… and he might’ve thought the same about you.

By late afternoon, you’re both a little worn out, and you wind up back near where you started, at a tall, yellow building. It’s an ancient pizza joint.

Inside is a massive, wooden staircase, and yellow walls covered in sharpie graffiti. Dumb little messages, from mystery people. From who knows how long ago. It feels like a million little voices yelling at him all at once.

Penelope was here!

Aaron is a cheating douchebag!

George Dubya, suck my dick!

And band names. So many band names.

“Whoa,” Rodrick looks up. It’s even on the ceiling.

You lead him to a large window, with a greyed, wooden frame.

You fish in your purse and find a sharpie, handing it to him.

“When we first started the band, we came here to make it official. I wrote our name, right here, under the window.” You look down, away from him, feeling a little sappy.

Rodrick looks at the smooth, black writing.

The Shrieks

10.15.03

He smiles.

“And, if you’ll notice, there’s an empty space right there next to it…” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rodrick smiles, then crouches down, uncapping the sharpie.

He carefully draws his logo, adding the little horns and tail, with a small safety pin and the date underneath.

He stands up, handing the marker back to you. You look down at your two logos together, then up at your coordinated shirts.

“Yeah. They look great together,” you smile up at him, “now it’s official. Welcome to the scene.”

Rodrick feels a swell in his chest, looking down at your genuine smile. He’s been just a little guarded all day, but… now he gets it. You actually want him around. It’s not a joke. It’s not a trick. You’d wanted his band to be immortalized next to yours on this greasy, strangely beautiful wall.

He catches you off guard, pulling you into a tight hug. You blink once or twice, then wrap your arms around him, smiling against his chest.

“Hey!”

You pull away from each other, and turn to where the voice came from. It’s Ward, in an apron, by the counter.

“I got a job!” He’s grinning.

The two of you walk up to the counter and catch up, refusing to give him any details, no matter how much he wiggles his eyebrows.

So we jumped up on the table, and shouted “anarchy!”

And someone played a Beach Boys song on the jukebox

It was “California Dreamin’”

So we started screamin’

“On such a winter’s day!”

The two of you sit at your little table, the sun beginning to set outside. You’re laughing at some high school story he’d been telling you- something about how he’d been in love with some girl and ruined her sweet 16.

He pauses, taking a sip out of his glass bottle, beaming.

“God, and she was really into N’Sync, so we spent all this time learning ‘Tearin’ up my Heart’,”

You cackle, slamming your hands on the table, “Oh, god, no!”

“But last minute, I told Ben I wanted to sing, and he could play drums-”

“Can he play drums?”

“Nope!” Rodrick laughs, “And I sang in this high pitched voice- she wanted us in tuxes, but, um, I kinda wasn’t listening when my brother told me that? Also didn’t have the money. But I figured all black was good enough.”

“Did you learn any boy band moves?” You wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye.

“I wish. That would’ve been awesome, but, no. We did set off a bunch of pyro, and I jumped off the stage.”

“Pyro?!”

“Ben’s brother is in demolition,” Rodrick laughs, but feels a little pang of anxiety with the words that leave his lips.

You don’t notice his face change, still laughing. Rodrick grins at you, wanting to make the big reveal good.

“This family was loaded, okay? Country club rich. So, the pyro goes off, and it’s chaos. I was, like, dancing around her? And I backed up right into a giant ice sculpture of her head.”

You look at him, in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, and then she tried to kill me with a mic stand, but ended up knocking over a chocolate fountain, and everyone got absolutely covered in chocolate… and then she hated me forever. Still hates me. That’s the girl from last night, by the way- my ‘girlfriend’?”

“No fucking way,” your eyes go wide. “That’s why you were staring each other down.”

Rodrick gives a satisfied nod, chuckling slightly.

“Well, I guess you learned your lesson: don’t trust the rich. First rule of punk.” You tease.

“Yeah, and if she’d actually liked it, I… I would probably be miserable,” He says, a look of realization on his face. You raise your eyebrows.

“I’d probably be at some fancy event right now wearing, like, a polo or something. Oh, god. I’d probably be working for her dad.” He looks down, eyes wide.

You boo him, giving him a thumbs down.

“I wouldn’t have met you,” He stares at you in surprise.

You smile, leaning towards him, your elbow on the table.

“I’m… so fucking glad all that bullshit back home happened,” He shakes his head, smiling, “Because now I’m here.”

“In a greasy, old pizzeria?” You smirk.

“In a greasy, old pizzeria, with you,”

You laugh, at a loss for words. Something about Rodrick seems to have bloomed today, and you like it. It’s like he finally evened out. You lean closer to him.

“I’m glad I’m here with you too,” You smile.

Your lips almost touch, but the buzzing of your cell phone interrupts you. You groan. It's Mike.

“Hey, what's up?”

“They got us! They fucking got us!”

Rodrick hears Mike screaming through the phone, and feels his heart drop.

“What? Who got us? What are you talking about?” Your heart skips a beat.

“They smashed the window! And wrote all over the walls! It's like Sharon Tate all over again!”

Your jaw drops. He's serious.

“Mike, who?”

You hear the sound of glass crunching down the line, along with Mike's enraged muttering.

“How many people did we kick out last night?” He spits.

You take a second to think.

“A lot. It got crazy.”

“Did we have to put anybody on the list?”

You make eye contact with Rodrick. His eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Yeah, there were a few.”

The List is only to be used in extreme circumstances. Any bar patrons found guilty of irredeemable asshole behavior have their IDs taken, photocopied, and returned as their asses are kicked out the front door. You're not sure how legal it is, but it's very effective.

The guy who had punched Rodrick last night, along with all of his friends, had absolutely made The List.

“I know who it was,” your voice shakes, “I’ll be right over.”

You hang up, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Did he say someone smashed the window?” Rodrick breathes in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you put your head in your hands, “do you know the name of that guy who punched you?”

“Ugh. Bryan Kent.” Rodrick frowns.

“Do you think he'd do something like that?”

“Yeah.” He says, without hesitation.

“Fuck!” You sigh, “At least we have a name.”

Rodrick looks at you, guilty, like he might cry. You feel a pang of sadness.

“No, no, sorry. Shit. Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, I’m just pissed off.” You ramble.

The bar is like your baby. Though you’ve only worked there a year, it means a lot to you. Mike had drunkenly promised to leave it to you several times, and you feel a strong protective urge over it.

“I gotta go,” you grimace, “Should I take you home?”

He nods, looking dejected.

There are two cop cars parked outside Rodrick’s apartment building, and you notice him gripping the door handle tightly.

“Wonder what that’s about?” You murmur.

“Could you take me around the back?” Rodrick’s voice shakes.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow, but circle around back anyway.

He opens your car door and gets out.

“Hey,” you stop him, “that was really fun. I hate that it ended this way, but… we’ll see each other again, okay? I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I… I really like you.”

“Me either.” He nods. His voice is cold, and his eyes are void of all emotion.

You know something is wrong, but you have bigger problems on your hands right now.

“Okay,” you give him a weak smile.

He grimaces, and shuts the door. You watch him walk through a grimy back entrance, and pull off.

“Rodrick, dude,” Ben looks at him with bug eyes when he walks through the door, “the fucking cops were here!”

Rodrick freezes.

“Did they leave?”

“Yeah, but they were looking for you, man.” His voice is hushed and panicked.

Rodrick checks the window, and the cop cars are gone.

“What did they say?”

“Something about your name being associated with a crime scene?”

Rodrick turns to look at him, “What?”

So while you sit back and wonder why

I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side

Oh my god, it’s a mirage

I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

#this has been in my docs since march with the title 'arson reveal into sex???' lmao #also I spent a while thinking of a 2005 alternate to baby #i feel like heather would be an nsync girl #i love this chapter #and I'm so excited for the next ones #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #doawk rodrick #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley fanfiction #salad days #my #stuff

13 notes · View notes

thefatartist · 27 days

Text

Darcie and the Gym Rats: CHAPTER ONE

Nestled within her pillow fort on the cozy expanse of the couch, Darci found herself in a familiar ritual, her gaze fixed on the illuminated lock screen of her phone. Each passing second was pregnant with anticipation, awaiting that gratifying ping of a notification. Yet, as the alerts materialized one after another, most failed to capture her interest, swiftly swiped away with a casual flick of her finger. They barely earned more than a fleeting moment of Darci's attention before being consigned to digital oblivion.

In this digital landscape, only notifications bearing the insignia of Instagram stood a chance to disrupt Darci's nonchalant dismissal. It wasn't that she harbored an addiction to the platform, she reasoned, she could easily break free whenever she pleased. But today wasn't the day for such resolutions. Today, Instagram held sway over her attention, a tantalizing oasis in the desert of mundane notifications.

The tranquil hush of the living room was brutally shattered by the forceful swing of the door. In stepped Jessica, a whirlwind of energy and unmistakable gym dedication. Among the trio of roommates, Darci stood as the sole advocate of a hedonistic lifestyle, her mission clear: to lure her companions to the enticing depths of pleasure, excitement and indulgence. Jessica, with her characteristic grace, slinked over to the couch, collapsing beside the meticulously arranged "meal" that had been left untouched on the coffee table, a testament to Jessa's culinary efforts. Her gaze darted between the abandoned chocolate wrappers and the inviting warmth of the chicken salad.

"I can't fathom why I bother preparing food for you, only for you to disregard it in favor of..." Jessica's accusatory stare flitted to a suspiciously empty glass bowl perched innocently on the kitchen counter. Jessa’s jaw clenched, "...raiding the entire communal candy bowl?! Darci, that was meant for all of us!" Jessica let out a deep growl, like a dog being deprived of her food bowl by a stranger.

Darci's arm emerged from the confines of her plush pillow fort, dismantling her makeshift kingdom with a casual wave. "The rest of the community was busy battling the Iron Legion of Dumbbells and Broken Dreams," she declared with a scoff. "You snooze, you lose dearie."

Jessica, undeterred, lifted the fork from the salad bowl, its prongs laden with lettuce dripping in ranch dressing. "Why must you drown perfectly good chicken salad in ranch?" she lamented. "Can't you show some respect and at least drown my salad in Thousand Island?"

"Can't you refrain from commenting on how I choke down your rabbit food?" Darcie retorted.

Jessa's eyes rolled so far back into her head that they nearly disappeared, just as the door creaked open once more. Chad swaggered in oozing confidence. "Sup, Protein Princess and Sleeping Drooly…"

"Watch it, Chad, or I'll turn your Prince Charming into Miss Charming!" Darci warned, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Chad was preparing a sarcastic retort before he saw the salad Jessica was eating. “Aw c’mon Jess! Even an Adonis like me needs a cheat day sometimes!” Chad whined.

Jess snapped back “This ‘rabbit food’, as Darcie so delicately put it… “. Chad snickered and Jessa’s voice responded “…It's a carefully planned, macro-balanced...”.

Darcie interrupted “...recipe for utter boredom. Look, why don't we ditch the rabbit food and order some actual food for once? Pizza, maybe? I hear there's this place with a triple-decker meat lover's special...”.

Jess shrieked in horror “Triple-decker? Darcie are you trying to clog my arteries?”. Darci’s eyebrow furrowed “You're already halfway there with your sad little salads. Besides, a little indulgence never killed anyone.” Darci’s familiar ADHD brain sprang into action after having clearly had too much sugar “Except maybe that guy who ate a bathtub full of Jell-O. But that was clearly a personal failing.”

Darcie would have continued if Jessica had let her. Still upset that her chocolate reward went to first place unexpectedly, she snapped fingers at Darcie. “Earth to Darcie…”. Darcie blinked. “Yes?”. Jessica, torn between the siren call of pizza and the guilt ingrained in her by years of calorie counting couldn’t finish her sentence. Chad, meanwhile, dialed the pizza place on his phone, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. Jessca whispered to herself, “One slice won't hurt. Just one. To appease the carb demons and quiet your... unsettling enthusiasm.”

Darcie leaned in close to Jess. “Oh, honey, I was just getting warmed up. We could raid that bakery down the street for dessert. They have this éclair that looks like a goth's dream come true - black chocolate and raspberry filling. Pure decadence.”

“Maybe just a small cookie?” Jessica gulped.

Chad piped up “Ignore them, Jess. They're just jealous. Double pepperoni for you, right?” Jessica looked at Chad, a feeling of defeat swept over her. “This is a slippery slope”. “Don't worry, darling.” Darcie assured Jess, “We'll hold your hand all the way down. Now, about that éclair...?”

Chad’s phone, on speaker, rang. One last glimmer of defiance died in Jess’s eyes. “You know what? Screw the macros. Let's do this. But I'm picking the toppings”. Chad jumped in, “Deal! Now, who wants extra cheese?”.

Darcie released a single, solitary laugh. What was this feeling; ‘happiness’? Less painful than Darcie imagined. Jess and Chad barely had time to respond before the voice on the other end answered. “Thank you for calling ‘Papa Tony’s Pizza’.

“Yeah, hi!”, Chad coughed “I was told you had a triple-decker meat lover's special…?”.

******

The smell of the kitchen flowed like a river against Darcie’s nose. “Oh, come on”, she grumbled “I’m hungry!”. Jessica’s mind flowed with hurtful comments. She was still very upset about her chocolate, or rather lack thereof. She bit her tongue. There was no need to upset the peace in the apartment. Maybe she’d eat Darcie’s second dessert. That’d teach her. Before she could think about Darcie’s reaction to such meanness, the waiter approached with their dinner. The thick, juicy pizza was left on the table and the waiter departed with instructions to retrieve another cup of root-beer for Darcie. The three roommates continued looking at their phones, Jess taking selfies, Chad chuckling at memes and Darcie flicking away notifications between testing to see if the pizza cooled down enough.

“Pizza’s cool” Darcie announced happily as she scooped three slices onto her plate. She delicately lifted the pizza to her lips and nibbled a bite before taking a much larger one that filled her mouth. “This is actually decent!” Darcie smiled, “Not bad for a place catering to the... unrefined palate.” Darcie shot a playful glance in Chad’s direction as he placed a couple of slices onto his plate. Jessica took the pizza scoop from Chad and got herself a single slice. She chuckled as she stared at the thick, layered pizza. She took a small bite, the melted cheese holding on for dear life to the pizza.

“You know, this isn't so bad. Maybe, a little indulgence every now and then isn't the worst thing in the world”, Jessica admitted. A grin grew across Darcie’s face as she wiped away some grease that dripped from her mouth. “I told you!”, she celebrated. Chad smiled and took another bite from his pizza. “Anyone down for some garlic knots?” Darcie raised an eyebrow, “Garlic knots? That sounds positively pedestrian.”

Chad, almost insulted, responded “What’s wrong with garlic knots?”. Darcie’s wide eyes squinted as her toothy smile grew. Chad never saw Darcie smile like this. It made him almost uncomfortable. “Oh, they're delicious alright. But have you considered... black garlic knots?”, Darcie asked, “Made with squid ink, of course.” The look of disgust grew in Chad’s eyes, but the subtle tilt of his head suggested interest. Jessica, however, was fully intrigued. “Where do they even have those?!”, she asked. Darcie winked. “I have my sources.”

9 notes · View notes