#order smoked salmon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 7 months ago

Note

Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍)

I really like your work it's so good!! And i saw your request is open soooo

Can i request delinquent/bad boy sukuna x student council president reader? Like they hate each other bc reader is very strict with the rule while sukuna just break it anyway. One day, sukuna saw the reader in a party which make him confused bc reader is not the type to do fun stuff. And moments later they fuck

Sorry if this is a very detailed request. Feel free to ignore it or change it :3

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my, another sukuna req! things bout to get hot, hehe~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - blackmail - fingering (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - facials - use of a phone; sexual photography - impact play (spanking) - full nelson position - degradation (cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - humiliation - overstimulation - pet names (brat, princess, woman) - dick piercing (frenulum) - usage of drugs & alcohol - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

Sukuna was grinning ear to ear as he marched his way toward you. “Y/n.”

You perked at your name, and your face contoured to brief shock before shifting to mild annoyance. “Sukuna.”

Running into you at a huge party was the last thing Sukuna expected to see. But it’s a situation he will take advantage of expeditiously.

College is hard enough being the top dog of the student government association and trying to juggle senior classes. It is your job to keep the school and its students in order, maintaining a pretty face as it’s been doing decently for the several years before you. The entire student body knows you take your job seriously, earning the respect they give you with every step you take and being praised by professors and faculty alike — even being invited to have dinner with the university president along your association!

But of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows because there are always downsides to the good — one of them being a ginormous thorn to your being.

Ryōmen Sukuna is a man you’ve been dealing with for almost four years. Known for his intimidating cadence whenever he walks the halls, the brutality of his moves as he’s the famous trump card of the school’s jiu-jitsu club, and his cold and demeaning manner of speech when talking down to others he deems beneath him, he is regarded at the campus’ “demon dog.” Someone that many can never believe is the older brother of the freshman track star sweetheart, Yuuji Itadori.

He is a person that many say is the complete opposite face when compared to you, a fact you have no choice but to agree with a twitching brow. Looking through all the disruptive students you’ve dealt with, Sukuna would be crowned King for being the most colossal nuisance of your life. Whether it be reporting him to the campus police for picking fistfights with the juniors, smoking in smoke-free zones, adding more tattoos to his face and arms, or willingly trashing places because he thinks he can, no one has been more subject to give you more grey hairs. He just doesn’t listen — he won’t listen!

And the worst part is that he enjoyed making your life a living hell. God, he’s such a fucking bastard, not wanting to deal with outside of your academic life.

…Until you two see each other from across the living room where a huge party is held in one of the off-campus apartments, perplexed crimson eyes locked on with widened ones, too shocked to take a sip of your drink from your red solo cup. You immediately turned to the group before you, hoping the sea of kids and the bouncing bass could distort your image from his vision.

Too late; the salmon-haired senior couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he slithers past people to get to where you are. Students move out of the way for him to move, the group you were hanging with gasps with wary stares, and Sukuna taps your bare shoulder.

“Never figured the student government president would be here,” his voice was chilling as always. Yet you remain a neutral face when facing him. “Something tells me there isn’t apple juice in that solo cup.”

The group you were hanging out with instantly excused themselves to somewhere else in the apartment, leaving you alone with Sukuna. You rolled your eyes, “What is it, Ryōmen?” You feel disgusted as his red eyes scan your figure, taking in the off-shoulder, long-sleeved bodycon dress you were wearing. True, you don’t wear stuff like this all the time, but you can’t expect this bastard to have any amount of decency or subtlety.

“Whatcha doin’ here, prez?” God, you hated him calling you that, knowing good and damn well what your name was — but, again, why would he bother; not respecting you enough to do something simple as that. “Isn’t this kind of thing what you’re against for and all?”

“Hmph, am I not allowed to have some fun at a party I was invited to?” You furrowed your brows and took an aggressive sip. “Besides, this is off-campus housing; the property owners are the ones who’ll have anyone’s asses if stuff breaks or cause disruption against the codes.”

“Oh, so the uptight President is off duty this time? Hmm, ain’t that something,” he leans against the wall beside you with crossed arms. Your gaze was averted to the crowd bumping and grinding rather than acknowledging the delinquent examining you. “I figured you’d be somewhere pulling your panties to some poor bastard.”

“Watch your tone when talking to me, Ryōmen,” you finally send him a glare through your peripherals. It humored him, a devilish chortle you could hear even through the loud bass. “Lucky for you, I’m only here to have a good time with some friends before heading home to assignments. So, do me a favor and don’t start shit for me to take home and stress over.”

He lifts a brow, “Is that so? Miss Prez came to let loose, huh.” You didn’t like how he said that — nor how he moved to lean closer to you. His cologne disrupts your nostrils. “Never thought you had that side of you.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Ryōmen,” you swing your cup around with a scoff. “And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

And you thought you’d win this round as Sukuna doesn’t say anything to you for a few seconds. However, the man goes through his pocket to pull out his phone to pull up something. And when he finds it, he flashes the screen to your direction. “You mean things like these?” You turn to look at the device, and your eyes go wide with an agape mouth. What he was showing were photos — a whole lot — of you.

“You know, I’m sure it must be hard being president of the student body; that’s why I don’t envy you,” one photo shown is of you smoking in the Honors Lounge with a few of your student government associates, an action undoubtedly prohibited within the facilities. “So, I can’t blame you when you decide to settle down and let yourself go for a minute,” he swipes his finger to pictures of you drinking liquor with some other students who smoke blunts and have weed plastered on the coffee table. “However, you really outta be careful with what you’re doing, Y/n; you got people who look up to you and expect so much from you.” Another picture shows you at some dark nightclub with a guy friend, shoving middle fingers and sticking tongues out at the camera.

Your lips quiver with every swipe, and lips quiver, “Wh…Where did you get those…”

“Hmm? I can’t share that information. Heh, plus, I like to keep tabs on those who can get on my nerves,” he stuffs the phones back into his dark jean pocket. “But I can’t lie; the more I look at those pictures and compare them to the little president that nags too damn much, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if someone were to leak these out for the whole school to see. Which would drop quicker: your presidential scholarship and accolades or your reputation?”

“You fucking asshole…!”

You swiftly throw your cup at Sukuna, but the pink-haired man dodges easily and grabs your wrist — the poor guy behind him gets drenched with your drink. “Hey!” The guy grabs Sukuna’s shoulder and is immediately met with the infamous death glare. “…My fault, bro, don’t worry about it. I’ll go dry off,” the student says while backtracking away from those fearsome eyes.

You’re trembling with vexed shakes; the hand on your wrist holds you tight with no sign to let go unless necessary. Otherwise, you know he’ll break it if you make one wrong move. “…What the hell do you want from me?“

Now Sukuna has you in the palm of his hand — his sinister grin growing as he leans closer to be inches away from your face. “My apartment is on the top floor; you have ten minutes to get your ass up there,” you don’t move a centimeter when he draws near your ear to whisper. “I’ll show you how to really get loose, Miss President.”

The words felt like sharp daggers to your throat, “You…devil.”

He snickers into your ear, “Pick your poison, and you’ll see just how much of a devil I can be.”

And with that, Sukuna straightens himself up and heads out, his frame disappearing deep into the crowd till you can’t see him anymore. Your heartbeat goes at a pace way too irregular to call ordinary, and your blood too cold as it has your skin suffer in shivers.

This was a nightmare — an absolute, horrifying nightmare. There’s no way the guy that you hate with your very guts just blackmailed you! This was not how this night was supposed to go; now your whole reputation — what you’ve built with your own two hands — is being held in front of you and is dependent on going to this asshole’s apartment. Who the hell does he think he is!?

You didn’t want to go. You wouldn’t go! Especially under the premise of that fucker, playing with your life like some toy. Your thoughts were inner turmoil, challenging your morals and conscience on what to do. Your pride was trying to pull up a good fight, holding onto whatever dignity you have to validate not going up on the elevator and seeing Sukuna for what he’s about to do to you. They’re just pictures; people will think they’re edited or question if they’re valid!

However, the fact that you spent five minutes going back and forth with this suggests those were anything but pictures. He had ammunition to bring you down — to humble and look down on you — and have everyone do the same, no matter what you could say to justify yourself. So, swallowing your ego, you exit the party and walk the hallway down to the elevator. Every floor you ascended made you feel small, and when the doors opened for you to step out and you saw him leaning on his door waiting for you, your fate had been sealed.

The same smirk he had at the party was plastered on his face. You were no longer in control of the situation; you are now in his domain — and you should follow his commands to keep up.

“Gahhh! Mmmph, Ryooo, stop—Eeek! Y’re hitting so ha—Ahhh!”

“What? You thought I was going to be easy with you? After all those times you’ve pestered me to no end? Hah, think again, prez.”

Being in the same space with Sukuna is something you never comprehended happening civilly in all your years of knowing him. Now, being laid on top of his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed is jarring in its own sentence. The skirt of your dress was pulled up, your ass and panties out for the cool air to caress. Not until Sukuna rips you off your underwear and starts giving your bare butt unforeseen strikes. The impact of his hand was so harsh that you gripped his jean-clad leg with a scream.

He goes about this for a solid five minutes, giving your asscheeks slaps – and your cries have him chuckle and do some more. And you can’t squirm out of his hold, or else he’ll dent the skin of your butt with his fingertips, piercing into the tense muscle to inflict pain like no other. God, it hurt so bad, every smack taking your breath away.

“Look at you,” he coos, rubbing his hand on the hot skin. The pain was so bad to the point of your eyes watering; simply hovering his Hand over you was enough to have you in shudders. “Whatever happened to the poised and resilient Y/n who’d always dare threaten me for my behavior? This person on me, screaming like a whore, can’t be the same Y/n.”

You grit your teeth, turning over your shoulder to express your seething glare. “Who are you calling a whore, you fucking—Deeeii! Ohhh!” Sukuna sneaks a forefinger inside your wet cunt, not bothering to warn you. “Wai—Tahhh! Take it out, take it out right—Noooh!!”

“Oh, don’t even think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, slut,” you bite your lip as he moves his finger into your vagina with such merciless vigor. “And with how you’re crying like a bitch, you sound pretty whore-ish to me.”

Oh, go fuck yourself! You could have told him that — but you didn’t because he squeezes in his middle finger to insert inside your tight chasm, both digits now rummaging inside your vaginal walls and scraping them to the point of drooling babbles on your part. You couldn’t think of anything, not when he’s still throwing smacks on your ass with his free hand. You can’t even wipe the spit that comes down your lips because he distracts you with more jabs to your inner walls and pinches to the skin of your butt. Fuck, fuuuck!!

And it gets worse when you feel his thumb dance around your asshole. “N–No, stop it, Sukuna! That’s dirty, don’t—Mmnaahh!!” He slips it inside without care; the pain of his thumb forcing inside your puckered anus almost has you shut down.

“That’s the point, prez,” he bites his lip with a pestilent snicker. “Gonna make you so fucking dirty tonight, wanna ruin that perfect image of yours that you don’t recognize yourself. He scratches your butt, resulting in you clamping onto his digits with a grip that feeds his ego. “Mhmm, just like that, princess.”

How dare he play with your ass like a toy and have the nerve to call you that? Such a sick man; the hate you have for him boils your blood to no end. “Ahhh, stoop, too fast, please, go slo—Mmmph!?”

He shoves two fingers in your mouth to stifle your cries. “That’ll keep you from squealing, fucking pig.” And he continues to toy with your slit and anus, your whimpers muffled by his thick fingers.

“Take it all in, Y/n, every single fucking inch, ya hear?…Mmmm, yeah, deep in your throat like that.”

This. Is. The. Worst! There’s absolutely no way you’re sucking Sukuna’s cock right now; this is the very last thing you’d want to be doing! He’s standing with his dark jeans and briefs on his thighs, his hand on the back of your head to make sure your mouth remains on his dick at all times. If you could, you would’ve chewed the damn thing off and made a run for it.

But you came here for a reason, so you keep your disdain at bay and begrudgingly suck on Sukuna’s glans, having the salmon-haired man purr from above you. And it doesn’t help that he holds his phone to take pictures of you and said add more to his collection. God, he’s so disgusting…

“Fhhh, fuck, that feels good,” he groans at you taking his girth. Your lips down to the hilt, burrowing his length deep into the warm, tight tunnel of your throat. “Who woulda thought the strict, by-the-book Y/n would take in dick so well?” You narrow your eyes at him as you bob your face up and down, earning a hearty chuckle from the pleased man. “That face of yours, baby, so furious with me, huh.”

You try to pay him no mind, distracting yourself with the task at hand by licking one of his balls before sucking them. Your hands increase in speed when stroking him, having the man above unable to stop bucking his hips to your fist for more enviable friction.

“Shit, yeah, yes,” he throws his head back in bliss, and you can tell he’s about finished while feeling his cock pulsate under your touch. “Bring your face here.”

He does it for you – his hand on your head for a reason – and forces you close to his cock before he jerks himself for release. And his come exudes with a force, landing right on your face. You fight every fiber of your being to move away, accepting his essence to paint your cheeks, nose, and lips. It was unbelievable how disgracious he was, just plain selfish and unapologetically nasty.

You hear the phone snap, throwing another scowl at the pink-haired responsible. “Lookin’ like a real cumslut for me, prez.”

And the worst part of all finally comes around — the thing you dreaded once you stepped out of that party and into that elevator.

“—Fffaaahh! Hooohshiiit! This is crazy—Eeeee!”

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re tight as hell, woman…Khhh…! Tryin’ to milk me dry, huh, Y/n…”

Sukuna lies beneath you with his legs bent away, his arms wrapped underneath your legs, and pushing them to your chest from behind. His cock is entombed inside your leaking slit as he thrusts up to you with every second, and the sound of your ass smacking onto his thighs fills the space.

He has his hands behind your neck, demanding you to look at the union of your sexes, and your face couldn’t get any hotter than watching the obscenity. He’s been fucking you for more than ten minutes now, his cum inside you from the last round stains a white ‘o’ around the base of him, and the sticky substance so vulgar to look at it stretching with his push and pull motions. And the squelching – the goddamn squelching! – it only furthered the fog clouding your mind.

There was no point concealing your wails; your lips were forced open with every jab from Sukuna. Jesus, he was so fucking big — your poor cunt stretched to accommodate his intrusion. You clamp onto him more when he pulls, the barbell piercing his frenulum and scraping your walls from the descent and grazing your G-spot.

“Fuck, fuuuck, hsssh…!” It was hard to concentrate on anything outside of this, and you couldn’t tell if you were speaking adequately or prattling like some sex-crazed fool. You sigh with rolled eyes when he sends sporadic ruts out of nowhere, clenching onto his shaft with a tug.

It has Sukuna groan hotly, his breath steaming your skin. “Holy fuck, you really love gripping my cock, don’t you, princess?”

“I–I can’t help it! You keep ’n hit—Haishhh!” Your eyes meet the ceiling at the jab of your A-spot, the pressure making you feel full. “You—hic—…Yo’re the one m’king me like thisss…”

“Is that right?” He takes slow thrusts to draw out your pleasure; your broken howls were music to his ears. “Sounds like the to be enjoying yourself.” You hurriedly shake your head no, and he throws a bitter pound to your hypersensitive chasm. “Brat, why the hell else are you milking me like this for, then?”

“Becauseee, it feels….Mmmm,” No, you can’t say that. Don’t tell him what he wants to hear.

“Hmm? Feels what?” You can hear the smirk on his lips. You don’t say anything except muffled hums, so he probes you, “You want me to send out those pictures, huh? Show just how much of a terrible president you are, how you love to go dumb on my dick?”

Of course not! “Do—Don’t you dare…!”

“Then answer the question: how does it feel, hmm? Tell me, how do you feel being fucked by the guy you hate so much?”

Oh, damn you, Ryōmen Sukuna! It was now you shed a tear, your hands grabbing for his forearms for purchase.

“—Fucking ‘ell, it feels good,” you said it, your last bit of dignity finally thrown for the man to shred apart. “Feels ‘oo good, you make me feel—Geheehh…so damn good…!”

Oh, that was more than enough for him. Sukuna’s sneer becomes broader, and his chuckles are felt from your back. “What a dirty bitch for me, princess…”

His hips go back to an unsteady fashion, propelling his dick to his base, and the brushes of his piercing massage your walls too precisely. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing down on you with a scream, the walls of your cunt contracting around Sukuna for the third time that night. Your nails dig into his arms, and drool leaves your pretty agape mouth as he allows you to ride out your climax.

Sukuna whistles at the sensation of you fluttering on his girth. “Phew, damn, that was a good fuck. You know how to keep up with me, woman; you’d make a great pet.”

You were sick of him, gulping to wet your dry throat. “Delete…the fucking…pictures.” Your empty threat only has him click his tongue with a scoff.

“Not so fast there, prez; the fun was just getting good.” Your heart sinks to the soles of your feet. “So, be a good brat and know your place is under me tonight.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

2K notes · View notes

frauleinfunf · 2 years ago

Text

will i ever sleep the night before a flight? probably not

#personal #at least i got to be fancy and order overpriced bagel and lox at the airport bar #they call it smoked salmon over a bagel but that’s literally bagel and lox

0 notes

bitchfitch · 2 months ago

Text

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

#you can substitute tuna/salmon for beef in anything that isnt like. getting mixed.#so whole steaks and .... its basically just whole steaks. I guess substitute isnt the right word #You can fuck up a salmon or tuna cut by cooking it like beef instead of cooking it like fish

258 notes · View notes

menagerofmischief · 2 months ago

Text

Dia's Diner

Welcome to Dia's Diner, here you'll be able to order your meal (fic) with as many specifications and dishes as you want. We hope you leave satisfied ;)

first step is choosing who you want your fic to be about, so pick a server (you can even pick two)

SERVERS:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Carlos Sainz Jr.

Lewis Hamilton

George Russel

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Daniel Riccardo

Alex Albon

Fernando Alonso

Franco Collapinto

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Ollie Bearman

Kimi Antonelli

Mick Schumacher

Arthur Leclerc

Sebastian Vettel

Mark Webber

Jenson Button

Nico Rosberg

Toto Wolff

every good meal starts with an appetizer, by choosing your appetizer you're setting the main trope of the fic

STARTERS:

charcuterie board (dating)

artichoke dip (brother’s friend)

olives and cheese (friends to lovers)

stuffed cherry tomatoes (sugar daddy)

hummus nachos (teammates)

shrimp cocktail (rivals to lovers)

and how you want it served

HOT OR COLD:

hot appetizer (sweet sex)

cold appetizer (rought sex)

now it's time to order the main dish, feel free to choose as many as you want

MAINS:

lobster (“I love watching my cum leak out from your pussy”)

caviar and oysters (“Gonna look so good full of my babies”)

fish and chips (“Where are your manners?”)

steak (“Made just for me. My pretty little cocksleeve”)

burger and fries (“Hurts? That’s too bad baby, should have thought about it before being such a slut”)

buffalo wings (“Count them for me”)

ramen (“What would your brother think if he saw us?”)

gyros (“Gonna fill you up”)

full english (“My pretty little slut”)

pizza (“My good girl”)

pesto pasta (“Slow down, you just told me to speed up. What’s it gonna be silly girl?”)

carbonara (“Look so good on my cock”)

sausage rolls (“I’ll make it fit”)

sushi (“Better quiet down, you don’t want them to hear us.)

tacos (“I’m gonna give you an attitude check”)

chicken quesadilla (“So pretty with my cock down your throat”)

crab cakes (“Yeah, gonna swallow like a good girl?”)

chicken nuggets (“Couldn’t help being a brat, could you?”)

kimchi (“Be a good girl and take it”)

tomato soup (“Running away from my dick? I don’t think so.”)

cheese fries (“I love making you squirt”)

stuffed potato (“Just where you belong … on your knees for me”)

sarma (“Gonna put a baby in you”)

moussaka (“You look your best covered in my cum”)

caesar salad (“Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next”)

chicken skewer (“Be a good girl and cum for me”)

mac and cheese (“Only good girls get to cum”)

mango sticky rice (“Next time you try that shit I’ll make him watch while I fuck you”)

chicken fingers (“Yeah, you like being filled in both ends like a slut”)

butter chicken rice (“If you want it then you better beg for it”)

eggs and bacon ("Are you gonna stop moving or am I gonna hold you down?")

spring rolls ("All you do is complain, perhaps I should shut you up")

sloppy joe ("You have the prettiest mouth. Why don't you put it to good use?")

kebab ("Look at that my cock is splitting you in half")

grilled cheese ("I buy you nice things and then I get to fuck you in them. Sounds fair to me")

pot roast ("You going to let me take my anger out on you, sweetheart?")

chili ("Look at you humping my thigh like a bitch in heat")

california rolls ("Scream my name - I want everyone to know who's making you feel this good)

PB&J ("Look at him while I make you cum")

dumplings ("Ride this cock - it's your cock")

black pudding ("There we good, you're such a good girl, taking you punishment so well")

smoked salmon ("My good girl deserves a reward")

fish tacos ("Just lie back and let me take care of you")

seafood boil ("Maybe I'll make a mix tape of your moans to listen to while I drive")

spaghetti with meatballs ("Why don't you put on that pretty little set I bought for you?")

veggie burger ("Feel how hard you make me")

hot dog ("Thought about you while touching myself. The real things is much better")

ratatouille ("I'll mark you up so much no man will dare talk to you again")

bacon pancakes ("I love when you wear dresses. It's so easy to flip it up and fuck you")

chicken alfredo ("You haven't been very good, have you? And you know what happens to bad girls")

avocado toast ("Look at you all dumb and crying on my cock")

lasagna ("Where did all that cockiness go now that it's time to take your punishment?)

gnocchi ("You like when I treat you like a toy, don't you?)

mashed potatoes and gravy ("You had no problem getting fucked in here like a slut. Then you should have no problem walking out there with my cum dripping down your legs")

having a drink with your dish really elevates the experience, drinks represent different kinks

DRINKS:

ice tea (oral giving/receiving)

sweet tea (morning sex)

redbull (filming sex)

mint tea (body worship giving/receiving)

white wine (sir kink)

vodka redbull (squirting)

white claw (pegging)

red wine (daddy kink)

rose (spanking)

champagne (threesome)

old fashioned (drunk sex)

whiskey (double penetration)

mai thai (mirror sex)

cosmopolitan (temperature play)

beer (bondage)

root beer (blindfold)

apple cider (spitting)

apple juice (edging)

orange juice (overstimulation)

pineapple juice (wax play)

smoothie (hickeys)

boba (anal)

matcha (toys)

vanilla milkshake (nipple play)

hot chocolate (dry humping)

chocolate milk (thigh riding)

espresso (dom/sub)

black coffee (chocking)

mocha coffee (degradation)

pumpkin spice latte (losing virginity)

fanta (size kink)

coca-cola (somnophillia)

coke zero (free use)

pepsi (car sex)

lemonade (public sex)

strawberry lemonade (breeding)

coconut water (jealous sex)

sparkling water (phone sex)

iced water (dirty talk)

to end the night you might consider getting a dessert, in this case dessert is aftercare

DESSERT:

yes (aftercare included)

no (aftercare not included)

special instructions: tell me your favorite track/race at the end of your request and I'll throw you in a freebie on the house that goes best with your order

Thank you for visiting! Here at Dia's Diner your pleasure is our priority, so be on the look out for new additions to our menu. Come back again.

A/N: I'm so grateful for each and every one of your requests, but I just ask that you be patient about waiting for it since I don't have much free time because of school.

173 notes · View notes

sacredsnape · 1 year ago

Note

How about a smutty date Severus x reader in a restaurant where Sev asks Reader to have a vibro in her and he has the remote control ?

This is 🔥🔥🔥

Genre: smut

Warnings: implied public/bathroom sex, use of a vibrator, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk

Masterlist

The menu you held in your hands trembled as intense waves of pleasure rolled through your soaked cunt. Your boyfriend smirked, sliding his fingers up his sleeve to increase the speed of the vibrator nestled deep inside of you.

"Severus," you whined, squirming around in your seat as a waiter approached your table. "Stop-"

"Good evening, Miss and Mister. Would you like to try our new macaroni and brie with crab?" the waiter asked, his pen poised on his notepad, ready to take your orders.

"No, thank you. May I please order the steak with mashed potatoes and asparagus, medium rare?" Severus told the waiter, failing to hide his smirk as he heard a faint whimper escape you.

"And you, Miss?" The waiter turned to face you as he finished writing down Severus's order. You bit your lip hard, your entire body hot as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"Just t-the smoked salmon p-pasta, please," you stammered, screwing your eyes shut as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. The waiter gave you a funny look and then nodded, scribbling down your order before walking away.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. "Sev, please. I need to come. You haven't let me come all night," you whispered to him, your stomach beginning to burn from how desperate you were to come.

"Not until our food arrives, my love," Severus replied darkly, turning on the pulse setting on the remote. You gasped loudly, drawing the attention of nearby diners. You were gushing, your underwear ruined at this point, but Severus was amused at your predicament. He lowered the speed only slightly, giving you a moment to relax before he increased it again.

"Fuck, please!" you begged him, your eyes fluttering open as your fingers dug into the tablecloth. "I've been a good girl all day, and I even wore the lingerie that you like the most-"

"Did you really?" Severus asked you, raising his eyebrows. You nodded frantically, your poor, neglected clit aching to be touched.

"Aw, baby," Severus cooed as he raised a hand to your cheek to wipe away your tears from being overstimulated. "Since I know you're dressed so sexily for me under your dress, I'll let you come."

You gasped in relief, squeezing your legs together as your climax began to crescendo. You felt a brief second of your release - intense and blissful all in one - before Severus suddenly shut off the vibrator.

You could have sobbed. Before you did, Severus grabbed your hand, gently helping you to your feet as your legs were trembling violently.

He pulled you toward him by your waist, growling in your ear, "I'm going to pound that sweet pussy of yours in the bathroom, and then you can come. I'm going to press that vibrator against your pretty clit too. Would you like that, baby?"

You were dazed by his words. Your head spun as you shakily nodded, unable to verbalize your response. Severus quickly led you to the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, and by the time you two finished and you had come several times, your food had gone cold.

#severus snape #snape love #snape content #professor snape #snape fanfiction #snape imagines #snape one shot #snape fanart #snape fic #pro snape #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape smut #snape smut #severus #severus snape fanfiction #snape oneshot

956 notes · View notes

flockofteeth · 4 months ago

Text

ordered smoked salmon and cream cheese from the supermarket because if have to be sad and lonely at least i can be sad and lonely with smoked salmon and cream cheese

#it me

114 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 1 year ago

Note

I really enjoy your retail Seph so I ask myself this how would the rest of the Batfam fair in the same boat?

Margie | Batfam | Rogues | Justice League

[grocery store]

Steph: Think you're ready for the deli counter?

Duke: Psh, yeah. How hard can it be?

Bruce: Hi, I'll do ten pounds of brisket, please.

Duke: Brisket. That's... uh...

Steph, whispering: The brown one.

Duke: *starts scooping taco meat*

———————

[clothing store]

Steph: The most important thing is to balance candid feedback with staying on the customer's good side.

Dick: Got it.

Bruce, coming out of the dressing room: How does this look?

Dick: Terrible.

———————

[restaurant]

Steph: Babs, can you ask Table 3 how they like their steak done?

Babs: Sure.

Babs, to Bruce: How would you like your steak done?

Bruce: Medium rare, please. And can I get some more ice?

Babs: Absolutely.

*ten minutes later*

Babs: One steak with ice.

———————

[drive-thru]

Steph: Once you see their order on the screen, just tell them to go to the next window.

Cass: *nods*

Bruce: *pulls up to the drive-thru*

Bruce: One Batburger combo, hold the fry seasoning.

Cass: *puts the order in*

Cass, whispering ominously: See you at window.

———————

[furniture store]

Bruce: Can someone help me move this dresser to my car?

Steph: Sure. Jason?

Jason, exhausted: Seriously? I just hauled that lady's fridge.

Steph: Jason...

Jason: Ugh, fine.

Steph: And don't forget to smile.

Jason, smiling through gritted teeth: You owe me.

———————

[coffee shop]

Steph: Okay Timmy, you're on register.

Tim: Yes ma'am.

Tim, to Bruce: What can I get you?

Bruce: I'll do the smoked salmon, cream cheese, and bagel sandwich.

Tim: Would you like cream cheese in it?

Bruce: ...Yes.

Tim: And smoked salmon?

Bruce: That's what I said...

Tim: And you want that on a bagel?

———————

[call center]

Steph: School projects are so weird nowadays. Anyway, Damian, did you read the employee handbook?

Damian: All 917 pages.

Steph: Nice job. I'll have you take the next call then.

*phone rings*

Damian: Wayne Enterprises account support, how may I assist you?

Bruce: I need to change my password but the website is undergoing maintenance.

Damian: One moment.

Damian: *types into the computer*

Damian: Done.

Bruce: You... you changed my password?

Damian: Yes.

Bruce: What is i—

Damian: *hangs up*

Damian: *gives Steph a thumbs up*

———————

[at home]

Bruce: Steph, between you and me, you're the best among us.

821 notes · View notes

kurishiri · 5 months ago

Text

THE CHARA CAFE × Ikemen Villains menu translation

(src) this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties. You can click on the image for better quality. Please reblog, not respost!

which ones would you order? ✨✨

To my precious robin and from the self-righteous king, a most sinful love: a frozen strawberry drink (William)

strawberry ice cream

strawberries

milk

strawberry sauce

whipped cream

I encaged the scenery I saw with you inside this glass: a blue ocean drink (Elbert)

blue raspberry syrup

lemon water

lemon slice

gold leaf

Drink this if ya want. I ain’t drinkin’ it though: a ruthless butterfly pea soda (Jude)

butterfly pea syrup

carbonated water

lemon syrup

violet jelly

I want your greatest happiness: a berry tea of happiness (Ellis)

berry tea

blackcurrant jam

For you, the sinful one who wandered into a den of evil: the death god’s hot chocolate (Victor)

cocoa

whipped cream

coffee sauce

Blooming in the dark night, a violet cream soda

cider

purple melon syrup

vanilla ice cream

cherry

wafer cake with bean jam (monaka)

I swear a most sinful love to you on this wedding mocktail

pink grapefruit syrup

peach cheese

carbonated water

edible flower

“So that you, the one I love, may smile, I cast a magic spell on this”: the Cheshire Cat’s fresh fruit salad (Liam)

salad mix

smoked salmon

raisins

grapefruit

diced nuts

lemon dressing

black pepper

edible flower

wafer cake with bean jam (monaka)

“Nothing like meat for a reward, don’t you agree, lil lady?”: the egoist’s roast beef plate (Roger)

roast beef

rice

rock salt

baby leaves

parsley

mini tomatoes

camembert cheese

steak sauce

The Crown members’ favorite! The head chef’s special tomato sauce pasta

pasta

tomato sauce

bacon

consommé soup

parsley

crouton

“Hey, wanna split this half and half with me?”: a chocolate mint parfait of the Lying Fox’s charm (Harrison)

bavarois

mint jelly

chocolate corn flakes

whipped cream

mint chocolate ice cream

chocolate sauce

mint

brownie

“Aha! It’s my creation, as someone with a steel stomach”: a special scone set made by Alfons

scone

vanilla ice cream

blue raspberry syrup

whipped cream

chervil

biscuit

silver dragee

A vow to fall deeper into your sinful love: a wedding berry cake set

berry cake

macaron

whipped cream

mint

cotton candy

rock salt

wafer cake with bean jam (monaka)

Dessert of the robin on a moment’s break: a fresh fruit cocktail

cider

orange (mandarin)

yellow peach

cherry

strawberry

three-colored agar agar

heart-shaped gummy

popping candy

if you order something from the food or dessert menu, you’ll be gifted a 2L photocard (top), and if you order a drink, you get a coaster (bottom).

125 notes · View notes

msbigredmachine · 1 month ago

Text

New To This - Chapter 13

MASTERLIST

"Customer at table five!"

“Got it!” Shouting to be heard over the chaos in the kitchen, Delilah sat a tray of empty dishes on the kitchen window and grabbed the order pad from her apron. Tying up her huge mane of dark hair more securely, she weaved expertly towards table five without so much as glancing up. The lunch hour rush was in full swing, and there seemed to be more customers than ever today thanks to the exciting presence of several American Idol-branded trucks parked in front of the local rec center a block away from Sharon’s Steakhouse, her second place of work. An exhaustive round of singing made people hungry, Delilah surmised, and she was more than determined to pocket as many tips as possible before the day was over.

Stopping next to the table, she flipped her pad open and glanced down to fish the pencil out of her apron. "Welcome to Sharon’s Steakhouse, what can I get you?"

"You tell me, Miss. What's good?"

The deep, familiar voice reverberated within her chest, shocking her into locking eyes with its owner’s smiling face. Oh god. "What the hell are you doin' here?" she blurted out.

Looking over the menu, Josh smirked and met her eye again. "Well, this is a restaurant, and I'm hungry…" he started.

It had been one month since she walked out of his house. Roughly seven weeks since their tawdry affair started. Not that she was counting. She thought she’d made it clear that he should keep his distance by cutting off all communication with him, but it was equally clear that he hadn’t gotten the memo, or didn’t want to.

"You look good, girl," he spoke after holding her stare for a few long, tense seconds.

The blush crept up her neck as she forced herself to break eye contact. Yes, they had a passionate fling, and yes, she was sure that she had flushed Josh Fatu out of her system. She was over it, over him, and there was no need to revisit it. But here he was, in her life again. Showing up at her work unannounced. Invading her space. A part of her wanted him to leave. The other part wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and show him just how much she missed him, but was well aware that half of the people in the diner were watching to see what would happen between little Delilah Parrish and her big-time wrestler friend.

“Well, our burgers are usually a hit among customers.” She avoided his compliment, determined to maintain the utmost professionalism. Although she was resigning from this job in a few weeks, she intended to leave on good terms. “You can’t go wrong with our smoked salmon either. Or you could try the filet mignon if you want something more fancy.”

Seeing that she wasn’t budging…for now, Josh nodded his head and forced his eyes to drift back over the menu. "Well then…Imma have the smokehouse burger, medium well, with chilli cheese fries," he requested.

Delilah jotted the order onto her pad and decided to play nice by adding an iced tea that he hadn't requested, but she knew he liked. "Comin' right up," she conjured up a smile that resembled a grimace instead, hurrying away from the table as quickly as she could. She had to get away, get out from under his scrutiny. Because as much as she wanted to believe that she could sweep their steamy tryst under the rug, seeing him again brought a throbbing to her body that she was better off ignoring.

Somehow she was able to go about her day as normal, a tougher task than usual given how she could feel his eyes on her the entire time. It was a relief when he finished his meal, and after he had signed a few autographs from some fans who recognized him, Delilah approached his table once again in typical courtesy to the customer. "Do you need anything else?" The wicked, iced-out grin he shot her sent chills up her spine. "From the menu, I mean," she quickly added.

Shaking his head easily, Josh fished out his wallet out of his pocket as she tore his bill from her pad and slid it over to him. "When do you get off work?" he asked.

"In an hour." Fuck! There her mouth went again, moving faster than her brain. However, despite swearing otherwise, she did want to talk to him, just like she knew he wanted to talk to her. But what could he possibly say that would change her mind about staying away, rightfully, from him?

He paid for his meal with his card and then pressed a fifty dollar bill into her hand. A generous tip. “A’ight. Meet me at the park when you’re done. We’re gonna talk, Dee, don’t run from me. I know where you live.”

Was that some kind of a threat? There was no time to think it through as he slid from his seat and stood beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Another shiver. “The food was excellent. My compliments to the chef,” he added.

With as nonchalant a shrug as she could muster, Delilah answered, stiffly, as she watched him walk out. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

---------------

This is a bad idea, she muttered to herself for the hundredth time, seated anxiously on her motorcycle. As his trusty Escalade came into view, she wondered why she agreed to this and didn’t just go home. Her resolve continued to chip away as he stepped out of the truck. Man, he was so handsome.

Opening up the back of his truck tailgate style, he slid his big body inside before holding out his hand to her. She shook her head. “I…I think I’m fine right here,” she insisted, tapping her handlebar.

Josh cocked an eyebrow, slightly amused by her attempt at resistance. “You don’t trust me not to touch you?”

More like she couldn’t trust herself. She was already an apprehensive mess. She didn’t need to compound it with his hands on her.

Leaning forwards, Josh crooked his index finger. “Come here.”

Fuck.

Hating herself for folding so easily, she took his outstretched hand, letting him pull her inside the trunk. She put as much space between them to keep their bodies from touching and rolled her eyes upon catching the smirk on his face; he noticed. Nothing got past him.

“Been a minute, pretty girl. I’ve missed you,” he said.

Delilah’s stomach fluttered, partly because of his suggestive comment and partly from the absurdity of this situation. “Does your wife know you’re here?” she went straight to the point.

Josh sighed in defeat, rubbed his nose awkwardly. “In Pensacola? Yeah. She does.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Does your wife know you’re here with me?”

“No, she don’t,” he replied, his voice eerily steady, “She don’t need to know who I’m with cuz it’s no longer her business.” At her questioning look, he chuckled dryly. “I didn’t think this was something to just lay out over the phone. But I don’t got a wife no more. Tameka and I are getting a divorce. We signed the papers last week.”

Delilah blinked, unsure of how to react to this information. “So should I say congratulations, or I’m sorry? Help me out here.”

Ignoring her snarky comment, he answered, “It was long overdue. We were wrong to keep carrying on like we could salvage what was left of our marriage. Those photos you saw were of us hanging out one more time before we went our separate ways for good. It was…nice. Fun,” he admitted, a small smile gracing his bearded face, “But the romance was gone and we both knew it. We’re gonna be friends and co-parents now.” He exhaled heavily, staring out into the horizon. “She met someone else, by the way. A doctor or some shit, with kids of his own. A normal dude. I’m happy for her. She deserves it.”

He looked sad. Resigned to his fate. But as much as she felt bad for him, she couldn’t help but wonder when she entered the equation. Before or after he found out about his ex seeing another man. Did it make him feel less guilty about starting an affair with Delilah? It didn’t really matter now, did it? That chapter was closed. She was happy with her man. She had everything that she wanted, and she hoped that Josh could be happy for her, too.

Delilah allowed her disposition to soften just a little bit. “I’m sorry. Divorce can’t be fun, for anyone,” she empathized.

“It’s all good. I’ll get over it. As long as my kids are straight, I can handle anything, uce.”

"That's the spirit. And if all else fails, you at least got Rhea. I see y'all two hamming it up every week, everyone ships y'all like crazy," she pointed out.

Again, there was that cocky little smirk of his. "You jealous, bae?"

"Jealous? Ha, you wish," she retorted a little too quickly, clearing her throat and hoping she came off as convincing.

No such luck. "Riiiiight. So I'm in town for a couple of days. We could do something if you want," Josh informed her, adding with a sly wink, “Non-sexual of course. Totally platonic, I promise.”

"Sorry, but I have a date. With my fiancé," she told him, her grin faltering at the disappointment that clouded his eyes. "It’s horror movie night tonight," she added.

"Word? I ain't know you liked horror movies." Josh watched her carefully. There were so many things he didn't know about her. So many things that he wanted to know.

Delilah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I don't," she confessed, "But Andre loves ‘em. And we've been trying to enjoy each other's worlds a little bit more."

"And how's that goin'?" he asked, a little more gruffly than was necessary. He wanted to be happy for her, he really did. He was supposed to be. He was supposed to want what was best for her, even if it wasn't him.

For a brief moment, Delilah could have sworn that he was unhappy that her engagement was still going strong. But he was her friend. In hindsight, he had offered her nothing more than that. There was no reason for him to be jealous. And there was no reason for her to care if he was jealous. "It's great!" she forced a smile, wanting more than anything to assure him that even after everything, he was still important to her and wanted him in her life.

He seemed to force a smile of his own as he jumped down from the truck. "Well, if you get bored, you welcome to come on over," he extended the invitation once more. "And if not…then I guess it was good to see you again."

How she wished that she wasn't blushing. How she wished that his presence wasn't affecting her, that every bone in her body wasn't screaming for his touch. "It was good to see you, too…Champ," she winked, following suit and getting on her motorbike. Deciding against hugging him for…reasons, she did her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from his intense gaze as she drove away from her ex-lover and home to Andre.

In one month, they would be in Orlando together. She would start her new life, pursue her dreams with the man that she was going to marry soon. She would forget about Josh Fatu eventually, at least in that way, and only regard him as a co-worker, a colleague. Because that was all they could ever be.

Just friends.

----------------------

Pulling up to her trailer, Delilah felt her heart sink. She had brought surf and turf meals from the steakhouse for herself and Andre, along with a case of Bud Light, his favorite. But somehow she didn't think that was going to feed the owners of the four cars that were parked alongside the house.

"Great," she muttered, cutting off the engine and climbing off of the bike. "Just fuckin' great."

It wasn't that she minded his friends being around - she knew that he was spending as much time as possible with them before the move. But this was supposed to be date night. They were supposed to be alone. She wanted to snuggle up with him on the couch and hide in his bicep from all the jump scares while he giggled at how cute she was with her little screams. She was not in the mood to share her fiancé. At all.

She was well aware that her mood was primarily due to Josh's surprise visit along with the bomb he'd dropped on her. The rest of her day was spent trying to get his heady scent out of her nostrils. She struggled to get the smolder of his sexy eyes out of her mind. The deep, rough rumbling of his voice that she loved so much wouldn't clear out of her ears. And now she had Andre's dumbass friends to contend with.

The celebration was in full swing when she opened the front door, though she had been able to hear them cheering from outside. The smell of pizza assaulted her as she kicked the door closed and nearly drop the pack of beer on the ground.

"Oh, come on, tough wrestler girl," one of his friends, Jaleel, she recalled, taunted, as they all turned to ogle her. "Can't lift a case of beer, huh?"

Setting the case on the table, she ignored him and opened the refrigerator to deposit the dinners she had brought home. She then stalked off to her bedroom, slamming the door hard for effect and regretted it instantly as a headache started to form. Andre stumbled in just moments later, a dopey grin on his face that indicated he'd already had a couple of beers.

Irritated, Delilah sank to the bed, kicking her sneakers off and rubbing the soles of her feet. "Andre, what the fuck? I thought it was just us tonight."

With a shrug, Andre lowered his lean frame to the bed beside her. "That was before." He bit his bottom lip, as though that would help him contain whatever news was bursting inside of him. "I got some awesome news, babe," he said, grabbing her hand. "Ask me what I did today."

"You better say that you worked your ass off, the cable bill's due," she cut in with an attitude. "We need to make sure we're up to date before we leave for good," she reminded him.

Andre merely clapped his hands. "So...I went to the American Idol auditions this afternoon."

"You did what?" she asked, confused by this piece of information. He had never so much as mentioned knowing about any audition - she herself had only just seen the branded trucks for the first time today. Yeah, he had a beautiful voice that he displayed in church every Sunday, but there was never any talk of anything beyond that. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Andre stood and pulled her close. "Jaleel and Ralph told me about it and insisted that I go. So I figured why not? And I went for it. I sang for the judges."

Her mouth was agape. She could tell from his expression that he really expected her to be proud of him. "Why the fuck would you do that?" she demanded, growing more annoyed with his games. Because this was clearly what this was to him. "Andre, that is the dumbest shit I have ever heard."

But Andre wasn't done. The bomb he was about to drop was twice the size of Josh's. "I got called back, Dee. I'm going to Hollywood!" he announced, reaching into his pocket and brandishing the infamous Golden Ticket she'd seen numerous times on the program. Rolling his eyes, he assumed a defensive stance. "Why aren't you happy for me? Do you understand how big a deal that is? Or you just don't wanna see me achieve my dream?"

Delilah Parrish had done a lot of dumb shit in her life. In the wrestling ring and out, she had done more than her fair share of embarrassing things. But nobody and nothing had ever made her feel this much like a fool. Whatever transgression she had accused Josh of paled in comparison to this because it was coming from the person closest to her.

Andre had played along. He had convinced her that they could make it work. But the first chance he had to stick it to her, he had taken it. Even worse, the auditions had taken place near her workplace. This meant that he had been in her vicinity. He'd had the opportunity to come to her and disclose this asinine plan of his to her, and he chose not to.

"You motherfucker," she hissed, her rage boiling over. She'd had enough. Standing, she snatched the 'Golden Ticket' out of his hand and launched it across the room. "You selfish fucking asshole! I'm not a fucking idiot, Andre, I know what this is!" she shouted. "This ain't your dream! This is your revenge!"

"The fuck you talkin' about?" Andre bristled, glaring at his fiancée. "Revenge? Selfish? I went for something that I've always wanted to do, and I might be good enough to do it. Ain't that what you doin'? Why is it okay for you, but not for me?"

"Tell me Andre, when the fuck have you ever mentioned you wanted to be a professional singer? When? This is news to me, your fucking fiancée!" Incensed, she allowed all the emotions of the day to fuel her as she yelled at him. "You are unbelievable! We're supposed to be going to Orlando next month. Next month!" Grabbing a hooded sweatshirt from the floor, she yanked it over her shoulders and zipped it up the front. "That's a snake move, Dre. Shady ass shit! You're doing this to hurt me, not because you want it!"

His friends pretended to be focused on the TV when she burst out of the room, but Delilah couldn't give a flying fuck about their enabling, goofy asses. She just wanted to get away from the man who, in her eyes, had betrayed her in the most heartbreaking way possible.

"Not everything is about you, Delilah!" Andre yelled back, following her out the door as she grabbed the keys to her bike. "Where the fuck are you going?" He stood frozen, cringing at the look she leveled him with as she mounted her bike, so venomous it should have killed him on the spot.

"Fuck you," she spat. Kicking her bike into gear, she peeled out of the driveway and down the road, leaving his cowardly ass standing there.

Though Delilah prided herself on being a pretty mellow person, this was the first time she'd ever been pushed to her limit like this. She had never been so mad in her entire life. The dutiful spouse in her chastised her for being so harsh and tried to over-analyze and make excuses. Maybe Andre had gone to that audition on a whim. But she seriously doubted it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He deceived her, and that was unforgivable.

When she arrived at her destination, she knocked so hard on the door she thought her knuckles would fall off. The door had barely cracked open when she barged in, grabbed him by the shirt, and with superhuman strength, pushed him up against the door.

"The fuck?" Josh gasped, barely getting the words out before she crushed her lips to his, her tongue in his mouth. Taken aback, he'd only recovered for a split second before she pounced again, her hand snaking down the front of his shorts. "I...shit...I thought you had a date...with your man," he stammered, shocked by her forwardness.

Letting out a cynical scoff, she sank down to her knees and pulled out his dick. "Man? What man?"

---------------

Whew!

Thoughts?

Please leave comments! I love comments! 😁

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @harmshake @trippinsorrows @whatdoeseverybodywant @heauxvibez

@hunnidmilly @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @joannasteez

@thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers

@joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @bebesobrielo @trentybenty

@tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess

@nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb

@final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @romansthrone

@bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @jeyusos-girl

#jey uso #wwe #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagines #jey uso imagine #jey uso smut #new to this

79 notes · View notes

see-arcane · 27 days ago

Text

A Metaphor for Nothing in Particular :)

Me: Hi, I’d like to order one bowl of Bram Seafood’s famous lobster bisque, please.

Chef Francis, handing me a smoked salmon: Here you go.

Me: I think there’s been a mix-up. I wanted a lobster bisque.

Chef Francis: Yes. And it is.

Me: This is a smoked salmon. Probably exactly the sort of thing that someone who wanted a smoked salmon would enjoy. But it is not a lobster bisque.

Chef Francis: Well, it’s my adapted and updated sexy version of a lobster bisque. Everyone loves it! And all critics agree that my patented Bram Seafood’s Lobster Bisque © ™ is the most authentic re-imagining of the original recipe ever. Therefore it is lobster bisque.

Me: Have any of these critics actually tasted lobster bisque, let alone the one written out and cooked by Bram Seafood, prior to your ‘adaptation?’

Chef Francis: Why would that matter?

Me: …Are there any other chefs who specialize in lobster bisque here?

Chefs Alan, Kim and J.S.: We do! And we’re professionals in the same field Bram Seafood worked in. You can trust our renditions to be utterly faithful to his recipe.

Me: Chef Alan, you appear to have handed me a medley where every single part has been already chewed and vomited out before being set on fire. I’m impressed that you got the scallops to remain preserved enough to look like a pair of breasts spilling out of a corset. Chef Kim, this is just an elaborately arranged turd in the shape of a lobster surrounded by smaller turds in the shape of other crustaceans. Chef J.S. this is a bowl of dishwater with the soap film used to spell out I HATE LOBSTER BISQUE on top.

Chefs Alan, Kim, and J.S.: What? No, these are lobster bisques. But edgier.

Chef Stephen: Pfft. Amateur hour. My lobster bisque is the freshest, sexiest, edgiest, coolest, specialest lobster bisque ever devised!

Chef NBC: Not as sexy-fresh-edge-cool as mine!

Me: Chef Stephen, I have eaten your work before. Some of your earliest collaborations were fantastic, but, like your takes on recipes by culinary artists Stevenson, Doyle, Newman, Webber, and Wilson, you have a habit of turning the entrée into strange food sculpture caricatures of your idealized snarky sexman fantasy self. As is the case here. Though it is impressive that you managed to make this calamari plate seem to make out with…I think it’s a trout filleted in the shape of a nun? Chef NBC, you just gave me a Ken doll covered in tartar sauce.

Chefs Jessica and Blair: H—

Me: That is also a Ken doll covered in tartar sauce, the plate is just smaller.

Chef Showtime: Well, I have a full seafood platter that includes a lobster bisque!

Me: And it’s beautifully plated, very inventive. Sadly you have replaced all the lobster bisque ingredients with ones for--I’ll be honest, it looks like a much more elevated version of Chef Alan’s plate. Not a high bar, but kudos for the attempt. Also none of this appears to be seafood. This is all barbecue with seafood names attached.

Chef Tod poking his head out of the kitchen: Don’t bother with these youngsters. I had old Bram’s recipe open in front of me the whole time! Just spruced it up a little, nipped a dozen or so unnecessary ingredients.

Me, looking at Chef Tod’s plate of crabcakes, also labeled as lobster bisque: So you did. I can tell Chef Hammer took a lot of inspiration from you.

Chef Kiersten: Ugh, I see what the problem is here. I am so sorry you had to put up with these tryhards. Here, this is a proper lobster bisque.

Me: This is a bowl of nails and lipstick.

Chef Kiersten: No, it’s the lobster bisque as it really is. Rather, what it should have been! Bram Seafood’s lobster bisque was created in 1897, when every ingredient and recipe ever written was nothing but evil, hateful, small-minded, belittling tripe. I have rescued the sole redeemable ingredient from the entire recipe and elevated it to new heights!

Me: The. The lipstick?

Chef Kierstan: Yes! See, you can tell it’s from the original by how it’s surrounded only by icky awful conniving ingredients. And there’s a whole piece of a lobster shell in there.

Me: Did you. Ever try Bram's lobster bisque?

Chef Kierstan: Of course! I swished it around for the mouthfeel and immediately spat it out, as is right.

Me: Guys. I’m going to level with you here. Not a single one of the dishes you have labeled as or otherwise connected to lobster bisque has had even a passing resemblance to lobster bisque. Some of these meals, they look great at a distance. If you presented them to me without telling me what you’ve named them, I might have really, really enjoyed them as they were. But the fact is, I have been trying to order a helping of Bram Seafood’s lobster bisque—even just a lobster bisque inspired by his!—for years. And every time, I keep being brought entirely unrelated dishes which I can tell are not lobster bisque because I have, in fact, had Bram’s recipe before. The fact that you continue to insist that your recipes are Bram’s recipe does not alter the fact that These Are Not Actually Bram’s Recipe or Anything Even Close to It.

Please just call your recipes your own and, if you really want to work off of Bram's bisque, do it sincerely! As if you actually enjoy and respect what he made! Hell, look how far Chefs F.W. and Werner got with it next door. Sure, it’s a lobster tail and a gumbo, respectively, but they have so much of Bram’s work in every bite! And they actually worked off the foundation that he set down in his recipe, using it to support their creativity with the meals, rather than replacing every single ingredient and pretending they haven’t gutted Bram’s work to use it as a disguise to give their restaurant more pomp. Do you get what I’m saying?

Chef Robert: :3c

Me: Don’t.

#feeling a certain way today #:)#dracula #and altered recipes thereof #bram stoker

56 notes · View notes

miasmaghoul · 5 months ago

Note

hear me out, speaking of the ghovie… what abt raindrop movie theater employees au? love u btw 🥺🫶

HIllll CRIM ILU TOOOO <3

Pls this is such a fun idea ugh. Kinda suggestive at the end, but mostly just raindrop being raindrop. :))))

"Whaddaya think makes 'em Swedish?"

Rain looks up from where he's hunched over his phone, finds Dew sitting on the counter with a baggie of Swedish Fish. He swings his feet and holds a gummy fish between two fingers, making it swim through the air. Rain can see how red his eyes are from here, and even though the air hangs heavy with with the scent of popcorn he can still smell the remnants of weed wafting from him.

"Dunno," Rain shrugs. He supposes he could look it up, but that would interrupt his valuable mindless scrolling time. There's only so much time between screenings in their dinky little theater, he has to take what he can get. "You should ask someone Swedish."

Dew hops off the counter, stretching both arms over his head. His uniform polo slides up, reveals a pale strip of skin above low-slung jeans, and Rain snaps a quick picture for future reference.

(He has a Thing for Dew's bony hips, so sue him.)

"You're no fun," Dew pouts, slouching over to Rain's side of the concession stand. He drapes himself over Rain's back, sighing heavily. The little baby hairs thay have escaped his bun tickle Rain's cheek, make his nose scrunch up.

"I'm tons of fun," he deadpans, holding up his phone and displaying an article about the mating habits of Atlantic salmon as though that proves something. Dew doesn't even glance at it, too busy snaking his arms around Rain's shoulders and nosing at his hair.

"You smell like coconuts," he giggles, woefully stoned. He sniffs at those dark curls until Rain starts to squirm, reaching back to poke him in the ribs.

"How high are you?" Rain chuckles, still tipping his head when Dew starts drifting towards his neck.

"This's what happens when you don't share with me," the blonde mumbles, chapped lips grazing Rain's throat. "I roll for two and have no self control."

Well, he's not wrong about that last part. Rain thinks back last week, when Dew had spent the night at his place. A quiet evening spent smoking and playing video games, until they were both too stoned to do anything but snuggle and watch TV. Rain had ordered them a pizza, grabbed it from the driver in a haze of smoke and set it on the couch with a quick announcement about needing to piss. He'd been gone for maybe ten minutes - most of which had been spent forgetting where he was while he washed his hands - and by the time he'd gotten back Dew had managed to scarf down six massive slices covered in pepperoni and pineapple all on his own.

"Don't I know it," Rain grumbles, reaching up to give the little guy an affectionate noogie. Dew nips at his jaw in retaliation, slinking around to Rain's front. Dew weasels his way into his lap, slinging his arms around Rain's neck with a smile. He leans in to lick at the spot he bit, and the way the ball of his tongue piercing glides over his skin makes Rain's eyelids flutter. He tosses his phone onto the counter in favor of holding the bony hips he loves so much.

"Y'know," Dew lilts, swaying in his lap, "we got some time before the next show." He scoots impossibly closer, until their chests meet and Dew can rub their noses together. Rain can feel his piercings through his shirt, and a little tingle runs through him. He slips one hand from Dew's hip to give his barely-there ass a quick squeeze, long fingers sneaking up the back of his shirt.

"We do," Rain nods, fingertips grazing the ultra soft peach fuzz at the base of Dew's spine. His eyes drift to Dew's mouth, wide and pink and curled at the corners in a mischievous little grin. "Wonder what we could do until then..."

Dew's smile gains a sensual edge, his eyelids drooping and the tip of his tongue poking out between crowded teeth. He slips his fingers into Rain's curls, blunt nails scratching at his scalp, and Rain shivers when Dew leans in close. He waits for a kiss that will undoubtedly taste of weed and raspberry flavoured candy.

Instead, Dew kisses his cheek and moves to whisper in his ear. His breath ghosts over Rain's skin, warm but shiver-inducing, and he makes his request.

Rain snorts.

"I am not fucking you with the popcorn butter, Dewdrop."

#miasma's work #ask games #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #rain/dew #rain x dew #raindrop #this is v silly and i do not apologize

98 notes · View notes

kastalani123 · 7 months ago

Text

(if you prefer Ao3)

They learn about it in the slowly bubbling, uncertain high of victory.

She died a hero, Clarisse says, repeats, convinces, closing Drew’s hands around a bracelet far too innocent to make everyone’s hearts sink with just a glance. Its silver colour is barely visible beneath the blood. Drew’s hands were already long slick with crimson. She doesn’t say anything.

(The daughter of Ares tells them the story as they pick up their other fallen siblings. Nobody responds)

Fuchsia with an apple for Anders, seventeen and the loveliest relationship advisor. Lacy only manages a few words through her sobs and tears, her hair still in the intricate but effective braid he had put it in before battle.

Coral with a conch shell for Khalid, twelve with a love for anything one could find at the bottom of the ocean. Valentina grips his stuffed anglerfish so tightly that she almost tears it while making her speech about him.

Salmon with a thorned rose for Ina, fifteen and the best fighter in the cabin. Mitchell can barely stand while talking, choked by having been unable to retrieve more of her than a gnarled arm, recognizable only through the heart-shaped birthmark spanning the back of her hand.

Magenta with a dove for Sawyer, fourteen with the kindest eyes in the world. Drew lays the sword they had never wanted in the fire and watches it melt into perfumed smoke without a word.

Cerise with flowering myrtle for Jasmin, sixteen and the craftiest painter around. Aminah bites her knuckles to the blood in a failed attempt not to cry when the burning paints colour the fire in impossible hues.

… Hot pink with an electric spear for Silena. Clarisse sets the fire with a blank face, dried tear tracks gouging grooves down her cheeks.

(A grief-stained title of cabin counsellor for Drew, fourteen with the weight of her world suddenly on her shoulders. Cabin Ten cannot keep her from turning her head high, eyeliner sharper than it’s been in years.)

----------

It’s not Drew who orders all signs of Silena Beauregard to be scrubbed from the insides of Cabin Ten.

Instead, Mitchell passes through the cabin while the others haunt around Camp like the ghosts they had avoided becoming. Carefully, carefully, he folds up Silena’s fashionista posters, picks pictures of her off the clothing clips on the strings strung up throughout the cabin, strips her bed of the flower pillows they’d all collaborated to get for her last (final) birthday, collects clothes from her section of shelves and drawers, and packs everything with even a trace of her into the suitcase under his bed. Grief echoes off the bare spaces, sandalwood perfume soaking into the walls, a vestige of one of the many lives struck short these past several days.

His siblings don’t say anything when they finally come and find him curled up on Ina’s bed, clutching her morning star plush like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to his body, the entire cabin missing key elements. Drew starts to get ready for bed, Aminah throws herself onto Jasmin’s bed and shatters, Lacy tears her hair free of Anders’s braid with a wail, and Valentina screams into Khalid’s pillows until her voice is hoarse. Mitchell swears he hears similar sounds from the other cabins.

(Rory comes the next day, backpack full of clothing designs he hadn’t bothered to unpack in his rush upon hearing about the strange happenings in New York. He takes one look at his siblings’ hollowed faces, at the bare beds, at the empty spaces, and breaks, begging for forgiveness for not being there to fight along their sides, for not protecting them like an older brother should, for working on his college projects while they fought and died for the world. Drew scoffs, lips perfectly painted, and says there’s a reason they didn’t tell him war was brewing over their last Iris Message. The others pile onto him, cursing and crying and trying to keep themselves from falling into pieces.)

----------

Officially, Silena Beauregard is a hero. She had been burned with laurel wreaths, and offerings were tossed into the fire to aid her journey to Elysium. Her photo has been put up in the Big House alongside many others, and even Mr D managed not to butcher “Silena Beauregard” for once, prompted by a centaur kick. Her name is whispered under the topic of the ultimate sacrifice, of the power of love, of the bravery of unexpected leaders.

Unofficially, the only one who speaks her name with pure reverence is Clarisse La Rue, and no one says it with such vitriol as Drew Tanaka. Her spy bracelet, still drenched in blood, has been hurled against a wall and remains hidden and gathering dust under her bed. Her cabin has been scrubbed clean of any mentions of her, her name unspoken in fear of Drew’s newfound cruelty.

(Drew builds back up the walls her siblings had dismantled with so much care, taller and thicker than ever before.)

(Mitchell retreats back into himself, the skittishness he had worked so hard to shed shrouding him in full force once again.)

(Lacy melts into the crowd like never before, burying her voice beneath a blanket of sorrow.)

(Valentina ditches her soft colours and loose wardrobe, forcing attention onto her new tastefully torn jeans and bold shades and away from her wail-wrecked throat.)

(Aminah tugs her grief tight around herself and leaves with the summer, her goodbye lacking a definitive “see you later”.)

----------

Two boys, adorned in pearls and guided by geese, arrive in a cabin full but hollow, plagued by dead siblings and a traitorous hero. Twins, they are, nine years old and unknowing of the carnage of war, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Drew scoffs and scolds but leaves them to her remaining siblings, for her sharp tongue has never been suited for introductions, and even in the wake of her death-stained rule, she will not dare shut children down so soon after arrival.

Names of all the ghosts haunting the cabin become unspoken, none willing to explain them and blemish the twins’ innocence.

It does not work.

Not when Lev walks in on Lacy sorting and resorting dozens of vials of perfumes with shaking hands and trembling breaths. Not when Ren asks Valentina about the night sky painted on the wall over an empty bed and she shuts down entirely for the rest of the day. Not when Lev holds up a mirror to help Mitchel neaten up the impulsive haircut he had given himself after a game of Capture the Flag. Not when Ren catches Drew in a screaming match with another camper over a girl he had never heard about.

Not when something weighs heavily over the empty spaces in the cabin, over the necks of their newfound siblings.

So they ask someone else.

Clarisse La Rue. Will Solace. Connor Stoll. Nyssa Barrera. Malcolm Pace.

Slowly, slowly, they collect pieces, find ways to fit them together, compare conflicting accounts. They get the story of clashing metal, raging fire, slithering scales. A frightful fairytale, starring their fellow campers as the main characters. The missing limbs, the overabundance of scars, the paranoid glances — it all clicks together, and the uncomfortable hollowness of Camp Half-Blood is suddenly apparent.

(Eventually, they ask about their own Cabin’s side of the story.)

(They receive no answer beyond solemn looks and half-hearted shrugs.)

----------

Piper McLean falls from the sky, crashing straight through the fragile roof of the system Cabin Ten has established for itself the moment she bursts with pink light.

She is… argumentative. Unwilling to cram herself into the tattered tapestry of their Cabin the war had left behind. Determined to be different, to stand out, to raise her hackles at those around her. Filled with an anger towards the paints and ruffles her siblings wrap themselves in, and unconcerned with not letting it spill over and burn them.

She challenges Drew, and they cheer.

(Will the sister-that-never-left finally come back to them?)

Drew scoffs and huffs, sharpens her nails on the sound of Piper’s voice, but does not fight.

(They have fought for so long, and she is tired, and maybe an older kid with none of the wounds that mar the rest of them is needed in Cabin Ten.)

(Within a month, Drew wrenches permission for them to leave Camp for a shopping trip out of Chiron, and they know she is coming back.)

91 notes · View notes