#that quesadilla tastes like WHAT

[age-of-moonknight]

A Mighty Marvel Team-Up — Spider-Man: Quantum Quest! Graphic Novel. Amulet Books, 2024.

Writer and illustrator: Mike Maihack

[radicalfemimist]

Is it truly so much to ask that the products I buy, the essential ingredients to my same-food recipe, are consistent? that they have the same consistency and taste the same, every time?

[087710]

cooking on saturdays is somehow becoming a thing & i actually enjoy it a lil bit

[what-even-is-thiss]

Quick and cheap filling vegetarian food (I’m going ovo-lacto for this)

Soup:

Dump some cans of stuff in a pot. Maybe some seasoning too. Pearl barley or rice may also be a good choice to bulk things out. With beans or legumes and some kind of grain you can make a whole protein. If that doesn’t appeal to you add some cheese or poached egg. Don’t add a lot of rice btw it will expand don’t turn your soup into a rice dish I swear to gosh

Quesadillas:

Basic idea for this is shredded cheese melted in between two tortillas warmed up on either side in a pan, in a microwave if you’re feeling extra depressed. But other stuff can be added. Salsa, pico, leftover tofu or beans, sliced peppers or onion. It’s a dish that’s as complicated or as simple as you want to make it.

Casseroles:

Dump a can of cream of mushroom or cream of potato soup on it. It’ll work itself out probably.

Scrambled eggs:

The most braindead way to cook eggs. You can even scramble them in the pan. Put stuff in it. I like putting fried tomatoes in it. Add enough mushrooms and cheese and you can feel your system clogging up in real time. Eat some toast with it to convince yourself that adding carbs makes it fine actually

Curry:

Wildly oversimplified term for basically most Indian food. It’s simpler to make than you think. The spices are the important part. The base of a lot of types of Indian food is onion, ginger, garlic, and tomato and then add spices and stuff to that. What stuff? Whatever. Spinach, potatoes, coconut milk, regular milk, even more tomatoes, lentils, beans, yogurt. Put it over rice probably. Use powdered onion and ginger-garlic paste and canned tomatoes when you’re tired. Probably look up some actual Indian YouTubers and bloggers to get more specific recipes than my stupid ass can provide.

Peanut noodles:

Cook some noodles. Probably ramen noodles. Melt some peanut butter on it and add soy sauce. Merry Christmas.

Melts:

Get a panini press so you never have to think again. Cheese, something else, bread, hot, eat. Add a sauce and some nicely grilled vegetables if you want to but tbh a midnight grilled cheese with tomato isn’t gonna be a gourmet meal. Just make it so you can finish crying.

Smoothie:

Frozen fruit and/or veggies and some kind of liquid. I usually use strawberry, mango, and soymilk. Maybe yogurt too idk. The worst part of this is cleaning the blender later but the actual process of making it is fast.

Pasta:

There’s more to life than just spaghetti and red sauce. Or so I’ve been told. You can use canned soups as a sauce sometimes if you reduce them a bit. I like butternut squash soup. Adding some cream cheese to sauces tastes better than it sounds and can fix your protein problem that you sometimes get with pasta dishes. Keeping a jar of pesto and some mushrooms in the fridge can make for a fast dinner when you need it.

Chili:

Get two different types of beans and some tomatoes and chili powder and whatever in a pot and let those bitches get to know each other and simmer while you stare off into space for a while. Maybe like 10-20 minutes idk it tastes good with sour cream

[artdnldsn]

thinking about 2019 art finally becoming too fed up with his diet. all these strange-colored liquids that taste like shit, the protein shakes that make him sick and stay on his tongue no matter how many times he tries brushing his teeth, because it feels like it’s in his dna after years of doing this shit. the sight of his meals makes him want to barf because they all look so bland, so lifeless—the chicken breast so disgustingly white he actually finds himself wanting to cry a few times because he’s thinking of all the poor bastards that had to die to end up on his plate only for them to taste like shit and for him to not even enjoy eating them.

and you just know he’s had to slip up a few times. they’re staying at another hotel, tashi is sleeping by his side peacefully, the room is completely dark, and he’s just lying there on his back, his eyes open wide as he stares into the ceiling, images of all the shit he’s eaten in his life passing behind his mental gaze, like those shitty burgers from the college cafeteria, or the ice cream he would sneak from his childhood home fridge because he liked the thrill of it and he knew it was forbidden to eat so much of it but he just couldn’t help himself, and those delicious cookies his grandma used to bake that tasted like love. and he can almost taste it on his tongue, but it’s not enough. it’s like, in his head, him actually enjoying food is connected to the simpler times, to the happier times, and he misses the food, but at the same time he misses his youth, and his hopes, and his dreams, and most of them have come true—hell, tashi is still by his side, his beautiful daughter is sleeping in her own room, he has a tournament tomorrow morning—but he just knows he won’t be able to fall asleep tonight because he just wants to revert to his younger self for a fleeting second.

so, he crawls out of bed, careful not to wake tashi up, slides a hoodie on, and he feels like a fucking criminal as he calls an uber to the closest subway. he feels like he’s pulling a bank heist or some shit, but he’s not really thinking for himself at this point. and as he sits down into the car, he knows he’s being stupid because there were lily’s snacks back at their hotel room, but he would feel guilty for eating them because what if she woke up craving them and found out they were gone, and she would be sad, and he wouldn’t be able to handle it, and what if then tashi would question him about where they went—no, he can’t risk that. and he’s so far gone in his thoughts and anxieties that he’s sure everyone at the hotel is in on it, too, that everyone will find out if he walks down into the lobby and orders a quesadilla, and they will deny him, like, “sorry, mr. donaldson, this dish is off the menu, and this one, too, and that one, and actually everything is off, here is some water for your worries,” and he already feels embarrassed even though none of it has happened and all of it is in his head.

he would rather tashi thinks he’s off cheating on her or something in the middle of the night than her knowing the truth, that he’s just so desperate for some empty calories, for something so sugared-up it makes his brain feel fuzzy, that he’s driving through the night city’s empty streets, already anticipating absolutely devouring that shit. and when he finally gets there, the fluorescent lighting of the subway hits him like a deer in the headlights, making him feel like he’s being questioned as he makes his way to the counter, feeling the only other person’s gaze on him, sure that he knows him, sure that he judges him. he sees the girl who works there smile at him, and he doesn’t even look her in the eye as he places his order, and it would be enough for lily to last a week or to feed a group of five or something, and he actually ponders eating it all in the parking lot like a stray dog just not to stay under these fucking lights for any second longer—

“would you like cookies or some ice cream with your sandwich?” the worker’s soft voice snaps him out of his whirlwind of shame, and he looks up at her, his lips pressed tightly together, it taking him a few seconds to process the question, and then he nods once, the corners of his lips pulling up slightly to mirror the girl’s polite smile.

“double chocolate chip, please,” he says quietly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he suddenly feels like he is a teenager all over again, doing something he knows is wrong, but it feels better with him feeling like he has an accomplice in the face of her.

when he gets back to the hotel, he’s gonna sleep like a baby through the rest of the night.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 5: Let Me Take You There✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been a work in progress for 2 months, but it is finally here! Moodboard made by @mrsmando 🩵 I have been working on so many things lately, but I’m so happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you enjoy 🥰 No beta for this one, but thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me share snippets with you and scream about these two 🩷

Chapter Summary: After your parents cancel your weekend trip to Galveston at the last minute, Joel offers to take you instead.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 10.5k

Chapter Tags: Joel takes reader to Galveston, road trip, oral receiving (both male and female), unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, reader and Joel being in love, bondage, vibrator use, lots of fluff and smut, switching POVs, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  It’s Tuesday evening, a few days after your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating takeout Mexican food. You’re not alone with your parents; your dad invited Joel over to watch some college game with him. He sits next to you, leg digging into yours as you let yours mold into his. His leg is strong, firm, holding you together as you let it rest against yours. You want to be in his arms, let him hold you tight while you drown in his lips, in his taste, but you can’t. Not here, not right now. 

   You take another bite out of your chicken enchilada and pop another chip drowned in queso in your mouth, letting the juicy flavors run down your throat as it hits just the right spot. 

   “Hey, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You know the Galveston trip this upcoming weekend?” your dad asks, finishing off a bite of his cheesy quesadilla as he sips from his tall water glass. 

   “Yeah, what about it?” you ask through another bite of enchilada. 

   “We’re gonna have to cancel the trip,” he says sadly, taking another bite out of his dripping quesadilla like he has no care in the world for the words that just came out of his mouth. 

   “What?” you ask, shocked. You drop your fork and it goes tumbling to the ground, landing with a loud clunk against the hardwood. Joel doesn’t hesitate and reaches his long arm down, picking up the ruined fork and setting it on the table next to him. 

   “I’m sorry, hun. Your aunt May and Charlie are making a surprise visit down, and they’re gonna come stay with us for the weekend. We wanted to tell you Thursday, but we didn’t want to ruin your weekend,” she says with apologies all over her uneasy tone. 

   “Why couldn’t you just tell them we already had plans? You’ve never canceled this trip before!” The words come out stronger than you want them to, hurt written all over your angry voice. They knew this weekend was important to you. They knew. 

   Joel places a hand discreetly on your thigh to help soothe you, but you barely register his gentle touch with how mad you are. 

   “We tried, hun, but the plans just fell through. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to go. Maybe next year…”

   You interrupt your mom. “Maybe next year?” you ask quietly with your lip quivering around your words. This trip was important to you. It was always something you looked forward to, but now it was ruined. You feel the backs of your eyes burn with hot tears, but you won’t let them see. They don’t deserve to see you crumble. You’ll just go sulk in your room.

   Joel sees how upset you’re getting, sees the way you’re trying to keep it together at the table. He digs his thick fingers into the flesh of your knee and knits his brows together as he looks over at you from the corner of his eye. You feel his concern through the connected skin. As much as you want to place your hand over his, you just need a few minutes alone. 

   “If you’ll excuse me, I just lost my appetite,” you say as you push back your chair and feel Joel’s warm fingers drop from your skin. 

   As you leave the room and make your way up the towering steps, you hear your dad say something under his breath. “She just needs to cool off. She’ll be fine.”

   For some reason those words just make you more frustrated as you tread up the stairs, letting a hot tear collapse down your cheek as your vision begins to blur. Stupid trip, stupid aunt, stupid everything. You can kiss goodbye to any chance of your ocean weekend getaway because it isn’t happening. 

   You slam the door closed and flop onto your bed, curling your knees into your chest as you let the tears fall. You try to keep yourself together, but you’re too angry, too sad, too hurt. It might not be a big deal to them, but it is to you. So you burn with the heat inside your body and let it swallow you whole. 

   Joel takes a stiff drink of his iced tea and looks over at George. “You didn’t tell me you were canceling the trip,” he says slowly, trying not to show the concern in his voice as he worries about you wallowing alone in your room. 

   “It just came up. May isn’t usually the type to just drop in, so we thought we’d better stay home and let them come on down. I feel bad, but sometimes things come up, ya know?” George says through a bite of a crunchy tortilla chip, not seeming all that concerned about his daughter. 

   “That’s too bad. She seemed really excited. I think you crushed her,” Joel says as calmly as he can without getting all worked up himself. The thing was, he hated seeing you upset, would never dream of ever making you feel that way. And now he felt obligated to make you feel better. He had to because you’re his girl, and he always takes care of his girl. 

   “We are really sorry. We just hope she’ll forgive us,” Claire says with a sigh huffed in between bites of her dinner. 

   “Yeah. Joel, the game’s back on, you ready to go finish it?” George asks as he gets up and starts heading toward the living room. 

   “Oh, yeah. Just go ahead and turn it on. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Gonna head up to the bathroom first,” Joel says as he pushes back his chair and heads toward the stairs. 

   “Alright, don’t take too long,” George calls as he disappears into the dark living room. Joel prowls up the stairs quietly and heads toward your room. 

   

You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leave traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess. 

   Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices. 

   “Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you. 

   “Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet. 

   “That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane. 

   “I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge. 

   “Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all. 

   “Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down. 

   He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.

   “Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Attagirl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.

   “Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state. 

   “I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair. 

   “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out. 

   “Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly. 

   “Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again. 

   “What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch. 

   “Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled. 

   “What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead. 

   You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning. 

   “Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”

   Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. 

   “What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.” 

   “You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin. 

   “I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek. 

   He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?

   “Joel…”

   “Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes. 

   You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

   “Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his. 

   “You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly. 

   “I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face. 

   You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.

   “You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him. 

   You lift your chin up and slowly plant your lips on his, letting the moment move slow, delicately, passionately. You sink into his weight and let him devour your lips, your tongue, your everything. 

   Joel Miller was the definition of everything, and you’d never ever let him go. 

   The cool breeze of November blows in a rush through your long locks of hair as you lean your head out the window, the air crisp and smelling of pine trees as you rest your elbows on the edge of the door and enjoy the taste of freedom. The radio hums low through the speakers as you feel Joel’s eyes on your back, feeling his warm smile on your skin as you close your eyes and take in this beautiful moment. 

   The drive to Galveston is relaxing, the sun kissing your skin as you bathe in warm sunlight. Joel taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel along to an AC/DC song that plays quietly throughout the truck. You take a moment to turn toward him, leaning your head on the back of the seat as you admire the beautiful man that sits before you. Tousled curls with grey threaded through his thick locks, a blue flannel that tugs at his muscular biceps, a glowing smile that reflects off the backs of your eyes as you soak him up, painting a pretty picture in your mind that you’ll surely take to your grave. 

   Joel catches you staring and reaches an arm out as he snatches your fingers and pulls your hand up to his plush lips. He grazes his lips against the back of your knuckles and laces his fingers through yours as he pulls your hand into his lap, holding tight as he drives along the vacant highway. 

   You blink twice and smile as you watch him drive, your hand on top of his thigh as he looks over and sees you in a lovesick daze. “What are you smilin’ ‘bout, hmm?” he asks as he smirks your way, arching an eyebrow as he drives along.

   “Oh, no reason. Just can’t believe you’re taking me all the way to Galveston.”

   He squeezes your hand gently and looks over at you as the crow’s feet crinkle around his warm eyes. “Well, believe it, baby. Gotta keep my girl happy. And trust me, I wouldn’t wanna spend the weekend doin’ anythin’ else.”

   You scoot over to his side, unfastening your seatbelt as you nuzzle up into the side of his neck, catching the edge of his greying scruff. He tsks at you as he eyes you with your seatbelt off. “Seatbelt on, baby. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

   You huff out a response, batting your long eyelashes up at him. “I just wanted to be next to you. Being in the passenger seat was too far away,” you pout.

   He rolls his eyes and sighs, putting a strong arm around you as he hugs you into his side. “You’re a handful, you know that?” You giggle out and he just shakes his head. “Guess you can stay right here, can’t say no to my girl.”

   You beam up at him, reaching up to leave a sweet kiss against his tanned cheek while you wrap your arm around his hip and nuzzle back into the warm, woodsy scent of his flannel. You still can’t believe you’re going to the beach with your boyfriend, your dad’s best friend, and you can’t even fathom how he fell in love with you in the first place, but you’re so glad he did because you think he’s the love of your life. 

   Joel stops on the way to Galveston at Buc-ee’s, and the both of you jump out and grab all your favorite snacks for the long ride. The two of you share a bbq sandwich, grab fountain drinks, a bag of Doritos, beef jerky, and numerous bags of candy. When you’re back in the truck and driving down the long highway, you’re back against Joel’s side and leaning your head on his shoulder while you slowly chew on a piece of salted beef jerky. 

   He leans down and bites off a piece of it which makes your head fall back and laughter flow out the cracked window. Who knew that a simple road trip with your dad’s best friend would be the most exciting thing to happen this year? You never saw it coming, but neither did he. He just made you that happy. You’d be content just sitting by his side, reading a book while he watched a baseball game on tv. It was simple really, you were just that in love with Joel. 

   He takes another bite and hugs you tight against his side while his fingers slowly trail up and down your outer arm, making tingles flow down your spine. “So, what’d you tell your parents? Reckon your mother gave you a mouthful for leavin’ on the weekend you have family comin’ into town,” Joel says as he keeps one hand on the leather steering wheel, his eyes vigilant on the straight road ahead. 

   You sigh, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. “Told them I was having a girl’s trip this weekend in Dallas. My mom was pissed, but she’ll get over it.”

   He nods his head, tongue sliding over his bottom teeth as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick. Besides, how can she stay mad at a pretty face like yours, hmm?” He cups your chin as his calloused fingers slide against your smooth skin, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on your cheek. 

   You smile up at him, your cheeks warming from the golden sun and his soft touch. He really is the sweetest guy you know. “Thanks, Joel. You always know how to cheer me up.”

   “Always here for ya, baby.” He laces his fingers with yours and brings your hand up to his lips while he lays gentle kisses across your dainty knuckles. 

   When he releases your hand to focus on driving again, you pick out a sucker wrapped in pink paper and slowly unfold the sweet treat. You pop it into your mouth slowly and savor the cherry flavor on your tongue. Joel watches you lick at the sucker, your tongue sliding along the see through candy, eyes growing dark when he watches you pop it out of your mouth with drool sticking to the top. 

   He shifts in his seat, eyebrows furrowing together as he smirks your way, a devilish grin spreading across his crooked smile. “That good, huh?” he asks with hooded eyes.

   You smile his way, taking your tongue along the smooth edge as you slowly lick at the cherry flavored sucker. “Sooo good,” you hum as you take it further into your mouth, as far as you can without choking yourself. 

   His jaw clenches, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he drives along, fighting himself from running off the road. “Better stop that now,” he warns, his eyes flickering with dark flecks of temptation as he gazes at you again with little control.

   “Stop what?” you ask innocently, giving the sucker another lick as you stare directly into his smoldering eyes. 

   “Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me. You tryin’ to kill me?” he murmurs as you eye the hardening cock against his jeans. Oh yeah, you were going to have fun with this. 

   “Not trying to kill you, handsome. Just having some fun,” you tease. 

   He sighs, raking a hand slowly down his grey threaded scruff. “You’re trouble, sweetheart. A little tease is what you are.”

   “Oh, I know,” you giggle. 

   You lean over and lick your tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the salt of sweat and a hint of mahogany cologne. You taste him. 

   “Christ,” Joel groans as he grips the steering wheel even harder. “You’re gonna make me pull this truck over if you’re not careful, I mean it,” he warns, his voice thick and gravelly against the pinch of temptation. 

   “You’re not gonna pull over. You’re gonna keep driving with your eyes on the road while I do this.” You palm him through his jeans, feeling just how hard he is as he groans through his gnashed teeth. 

   “Now, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on there.” He tries to pry your hand off, but you don’t move an inch. 

   “Joel, I’ve wanted to do this for years. Please, let me make you feel good. Rather suck on your cock than this lollipop.” You give another innocent lick to the pink sucker and bat your long eyelashes at him, giving him the prettiest smile you can muster up. 

   He ticks his jaw, eyebrows molding together while he drags a huff out. “Alright, alright. Jus’ don’t go wild. I need to concentrate on the road.”

   “Noted,” you wink, watching him grit his teeth together as he watches you slowly unzip his denim jeans, pulling his boxers down while his hard cock springs up and hits his soft tummy. 

   You revel at how thick and long he is, wrapping a hand around him to slowly slide up and down his shaft, spreading the leaking precum over his entirety. He groans at your slow motions, eyes blowing out as he watches you sink down to his lap while your mouth closes over him.

   “Fuckkk,” he groans as you bob your head up and down his shaft, hovering down to where his tip is kissing the back of your throat, making you choke and drool all over his weeping cock. He shifts beneath you, hands cemented to the steering wheel as he fights to keep his eyes on the road instead of at your pretty mouth around his thick length. 

   You gather your spit and fist him in your hand, moaning while you hear the wet, sticky noises of your fingers working him nice and good up and down repeatedly. You feel your own slick gathering in your panties, an ache you’re desperate to alleviate. You slide your left hand under the lace, circling your throbbing clit while you moan his name, still working him up and down with your hand. 

   “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he growls, watching you get yourself off with your own fingers. “If I wasn’t in the middle of the highway, I’d pull this truck over and have you spread across my lap while I finished the job.”

   “Yeah?” you whine, fingers curling up inside yourself while your thumb presses down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. 

   “Oh yeah, sweetheart. Better believe I’m takin’ care of you later. You brought what I asked, right?”

   “Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself about to spill inside your denim shorts. 

   “Attagirl. Gonna get you all nice and wet with my fingers, my tongue. Gonna tie you to the bedpost and give you what you deserve. Gonna make my girl come so hard that we’ll need new sheets before the night is through,” he growls with gritted teeth. 

   “Joel,” you moan, feeling a white hot sensation flow through your body before your panties are ruined with your release, continuing to stroke him while you come down from the blissful high of an orgasm. 

   “That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You’re absolutely drenched from his dirty words.

   You take a minute to come back to the present while your eyes glaze over, feeling his pulsing cock beneath your fingers while you work him up and down slowly. You lean over and glide the tip of your tongue up the underside of his cock where a large vein guides you forward. He groans, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel while you work your magic. 

   Suddenly, Joel stills beneath you, hearing his phone buzz deep in his pocket. He curses under his breath and reaches one hand in, grabbing up his vibrating phone as his eyes blow wide. 

   “It’s your father,” he mutters, knitting his eyebrows together as he answers the phone. “Hey, George. What’s up?” he says casually, motioning for you to stop while he talks on the phone. 

   You still your hand, keeping it wrapped firmly around the base, brushing the end of your nose through his coarse, wiry hairs, breathing him deep as you get intoxicated off his manly musk.

   “Beers at your house tonight? Sorry, bud. I’m actually out of town this weekend.” 

   You hear your dad on the other end sighing, can almost see him rolling his eyes. You know he misses his best friend, but right now he’s a bit tied up with you. 

   “M’sorry. It was a bit last minute, but I’m goin’ to the lake with Sarah.”

   You listen to Joel and your dad carry on the conversation, one hand on the steering wheel tight while he balances the phone on his shoulder. You know he’s trying not to break while he’s on the phone, but you just can’t help yourself. 

   You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue in slow circles around his swollen red tip as he hisses through his teeth. He glares at you, but you just smile sweetly up at him as you dive back in. 

   You take him deep in your mouth, feeling the salty precum slide down your throat as you choke on him again and again. He grabs the back of your hair, letting you work him over, swallowing your own moans with his thick length. 

   You take him deeper, choking on him while you make the most obscene gagging noises around his cock. “Ahh fuck,” he growls through his teeth as he looks down with blown out black eyes. “Oh, sorry. Jus’ lifted somethin’ a little too heavy for me. Guess I couldn’t quite handle it,” he mutters while his fingers grab your hair harder. 

   He pushes you down further, rutting his hips up while you choke again and again on his cock, letting him deepthroat you as your drool and spit coat him in wetness. 

   “Yeah, that’s right. Mhm, feels fuckin’ great at the lake. Not too cold, not too hot, jus’ right,” he grits through his teeth, fisting your locks in his hand as he drags your mouth up and down him, mouth fucking him intensely. You’re nearly drowning in him.

   “Mhm. Tuesday. I’m gonna come. On Tuesday, right,” he pants out, teeth gritted together as he pushes your head down hard and blows his load inside your hollowed out cheeks. 

   You swallow him down, barely able to take all the hot ropes of cum as some leaks out of your mouth. He curses under his breath and hits the back of his head on the headrest, broad chest heaving while you clean him up and lap up all the excess cum and drool on his messy cock. When you’re done cleaning him and his cock is softening, you fold it back into his boxers and pull his jeans back up, zipping them up for Joel.

   He takes deep breaths, listening to the last few words your dad tells him on the phone. He seems uninterested in whatever your dad has to say, his eyes only watching you now. They’re glazed over, dark flecks shining in the sunlight as he looks at you with love in his eyes. It makes your heartbeat pick up and kick against your chest. 

   “Alright, George. Sounds good. Have a good weekend. See ya Tuesday.” He clicks the phone off and shoves it in his pocket while his hand trails back over to you. His eyes find yours, and they look so beautiful in the rays of sunshine that glow through the window. 

   “You messy, messy girl. Goin’ down on me when I’m tryin’ to drive, when I’m on the phone with your father. You’re such a mess, baby,” he chuckles as he settles a large palm on the top of your head, gently running his fingers softly through your long locks. 

   “Mhm. I’ve always wanted to do that for you. And now I can say I have,” you giggle. 

   “Christ. How’d I get so lucky with you, hmm?” he smiles, watching you turn on your side and laying your head in his lap while one of your arms wraps around his thigh. 

   “The question is how’d I get so lucky with you? I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you all to myself. Almost doesn’t seem real, you know?”

   You hear him hum while his thick fingers curl against your shoulder. “I know what ya mean, sweetheart. It’s real, though. You’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you go. You’re stuck with me, pretty girl.”

   “Fine with me, cowboy,” you smile.

   He chuckles out, the weight of his laughter echoing through your heart. “I love you, sweetheart.”

   “And I love you, Joel Miller.”

   He smiles down at you as you situate yourself in his lap, closing your eyes to take a nap. Maybe when you wake up you’ll see the surf and sand of Galveston before your eyes. 

   After you check into the lavish hotel and place your bags in your suite, you and Joel both throw on your swimsuits and grab some beach towels. You settle into a dark teal bikini, and Joel almost matches you with light blue swim trunks. He looks so good, so broad with his tanned chest almost glistening in the sun, his large muscles flexing every time he moves. He looks like a masterpiece. 

   Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.

   “Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you. 

   “Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”

   You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.

   You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.

   “C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape. 

   “Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace. 

   “Ain’t puttin’ you down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”

   “Joel Miller, put me down this instant!” you squeak as he squeezes the backs of your thighs, taking off into the thick sand. 

   “Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna do that.” 

   You hear the crash of waves before you see them, and then he’s throwing you into the salty water while your head gets completely covered in the cold water. You make your way quickly up to the surface and rub the salt out of your eyes, yelling at Joel playfully while he laughs in the near distance. 

   Once you see him you start splashing him in the face with the cold water, watching his hair get completely soaked with his tousled curls slicked back with big droplets of salt water framing his face. “Now who’s winning!” you shout gleefully. 

   “Oh, so you wanna be like that? Okay, baby. Two can play at that game.” He starts splashing you right back while you turn your head and avoid the salt water getting in your eyes. 

   It’s a water fight in the best possible way, you and Joel going back and forth seeing who can make the biggest splash and who can get the most soaked. A fit of giggles leave your mouths while the sunshine warms your dripping shoulders. It goes on for minutes, the playful water fight until Joel comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. 

   “C’mere,” he chuckles. He spins you around and pins you to his chest while his lips find yours hungrily. You melt into the kiss, fingers twisting through his dripping curls, him slotting his tongue into your mouth as you taste the salty flavor of the ocean and him. 

   You squeak when he picks you up, legs wrapping around his hips as one of his hands locks you to him. You rest your forehead on his, your lips curved into a warm smile as you take in the salt water that covers his tanned skin. “Thanks for taking me here, Joel,” you whisper against his mouth. 

   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.” 

   You wrap your arms around his neck and let him hold you up in the water, keeping your body flush to his chest. You both turn your attention to the horizon, watching the gentle blue waves lap against the water, focusing on the afternoon glow of the sun, the graceful seagulls flying overhead, your own beating heart mixing with Joel’s. 

   It’s moments like this that you can never take for granted. Being at the beach with your lover, not having to sneak around under the nose of your reluctant father, being at one of your favorite places in Texas. It’s all surreal, almost fictional. You’re one hell of a lucky girl, and you know that. God, you know that. 

   You rest your head on Joel’s shoulder and feel him kiss the top of your head slowly, his lips grazing against your drenched hair. “This is so peaceful, Joel,” you breathe, sighing into the scruff of his jaw. 

   “Mhm, it sure is. Haven’t been down here in a while. You know Sarah was jealous, right?”

   You giggle and look up at him, catching the sunlight strike his dazzling honey colored eyes. “You told her you were coming here?”

   “Yeah. Guess it was a mistake ‘cause she threw a fit, but she got over it. Told her I wanted a little alone time with my girl.”

   You smile and nod in understanding. “Glad she took it well.”

   “Me too. She kept askin’ when we were gonna tell your folks about us,” he sighs, one hand raking down the curve of his jaw, thick fingers catching water droplets from his greying beard. 

   You huff and sink back into his chest. “I don’t even want to think about that. I mean eventually we’ll have to, but not today. Not this month, or year. Maybe next year,” you sigh while your nails scratch against the back of his tousled curls. 

   “Whenever you want, baby. M’not in a rush either. Whenever you feel like the right time is, we’ll tell ‘em together. I’ll be right there by your side, no matter what happens. M’not goin’ anywhere, even if your father hates me after. I’m yours. Always.” He brushes his lips over your cheekbone, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower regions. The man always knew how to get you. 

   You stay in the cool, salty water just a little longer, going back and forth from floating on your back to being in Joel’s arms. No one else is in the water or on the beach, it’s just you and Joel. Your own island paradise for the weekend. 

   You bathe in the beauty of it all. The salty air breezing across your hair, sun kissed skin soaking in every bit of ray of sunshine the sky graces you, Joel standing behind you with his lips brushing against your collarbone, his deep hums sending sparks of lightning through your core. You never want to leave this place, never want to leave him. You’ll just stay in the moment for as long as you can.  

   “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” He hums as he kisses your neck sweetly, his other hand dancing along the bikini line as his thick fingers play with the teal material by your hip bone. 

   “Promise me this isn’t just a dream and that I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow with you gone.”

   He chuckles behind you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers in his deep, gruff voice you so love. “S’not a dream, baby. It’s real, I’m real. And I can promise you I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

   You sink your weight into his broad chest, his finger cupping your chin with his calloused fingers. He tips your head backwards and meets your lips with his, letting him soak you in all his sunshine and salty presence while you float off on a cloud into paradise. This is heaven, Joel is heaven. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. 

   After half an hour of basking in the beautiful ocean, you decide to get out and lay in the sand for a while. You drag your feet through the damp sand, body relaxed and tired from the ocean water. You spot your towels laid out together, yours pink and Joel’s dark blue. But before you can reach them you feel Joel catch your hips while he envelops you in his warm hold, dragging you down to the sand as his weight topples over you. He pins your wrists to the warm sand while he holds himself over you. 

   “Got you,” he chuckles, hovering over you with his tousled curls dripping salt water all over your chest. 

   “Joel!” you laugh as you erupt into a fit of giggles. “Didn’t realize we were still playing.” 

   “Mmm, found the perfect opportunity to take you down again. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles. 

   “Silly old man,” you tease.

   “Old man, huh? Ain’t old enough to do this,” he laughs, sinking his body against yours while his lips crash into you. 

   You melt into his lips, your fingers running through his tousled curls that smell of salty water and mahogany, the two mixing together to form a scent you breathe into your lungs and get lost in. His tongue dances with yours, his rough hands gliding against the curve of your hips as he slithers his way between your legs. 

   You stay like that for minutes just breathing each other in, getting lost in the hungry kisses, the panting breaths that sound in tune with the lapping waves against the shoreline. It all feels like a dream, but this is real, and it’s the most perfect day with your ridiculously hot boyfriend. 

   He nips at your bottom lip, slowly releasing his mouth as he hovers back over you. When you open your eyes, you gasp. The way the warm sun beams down over him makes him look angelic, a bright light surrounding him as you look into those beautiful honey eyes, the dark flecks reflecting off your own. God, he looks so beautiful, so exquisite. You could stare at him every second of every day if you got the chance to. 

   Your fingers brush over his grey threaded beard, lips parting in awe as you smile up at him. His lips curve into a warm smile that makes your toes curl, and his eyes crinkle down at you while one of his hands grazes against your jawline. 

   “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You know that?” he asks, affection spilling off his Southern drawl while he traces your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. 

   “You tell me all the time, handsome,” you smile, eliciting a groan from his mouth as you drag your fingers against the scruff of the back of his neck. 

   “You deserve to be told every single second of every day, sweetheart. And I’ll do that, over and over again. Even if you get tired of it, I’ll keep at it. ‘Cause you deserve the world, so let me give it to you.”

   Your mouth drops open, your heart in your throat. You’re so stunned that you can barely say anything but run your fingers through his hair, a wide smile splayed over your face as you gaze into the eyes of the love of your life. 

   “Joel Miller, never knew you were such a romantic at heart,” you smile, lazing into those crystal clear dark eyes. 

   “Always been a romantic, baby. Guess I jus’ didn’t have anyone to show it to. But now, there’s you. So let me shower you in it. Got many years to make up for it,” he chuckles. 

   You drag his face down to yours, pressing your lips flush against his until you sink back into him, reveling in his touch, his kiss, his everything while the sun slowly slips against your ocean kissed skin. You swallow his essence, inviting him in while his tongue swirls feverishly around yours. It’s like you’re in the middle of a cute little romance movie, but this is your reality. This is real.

   He drags one of your bikini straps down, slipping his fingers underneath the silky teal top, grazing against the underside of your breast. “Joel, stop,” you groan. “This isn’t a nude beach,” you laugh. 

   “There ain’t nobody around, darlin’. Jus’ let me do one thing, yeah?” he asks while you silently nod your head in approval. 

   He drags one of your cups free, burying his face in your chest as he takes the flat of his tongue and gently swirls around your pebbled breast. You groan into the shell of his ear while his other hand lightly feathers against the folds of your already soaked center. 

   “Joel,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his salt covered neck as he nips up your collarbone. He slips a hand beneath your bikini bottoms and starts to slowly circle your puffy clit, eliciting a moan that falls like a melody against the curve of his ear. 

   “Yeah? That feel good, darlin’?” he asks, feeling just how drenched you are beneath your bikini. He presses harder against your aching bud, pulling you dangerously close to spilling over him as you feel a cold wave hit the backs of your feet.  

   “Joel, fuck - you’re gonna make me…”

   “Make you come? Go on, gorgeous. Spill for me. Know you want to,” he purrs, his calloused fingers swirling swiftly around your bundle of nerves until you dig your fingers into the scruff of his neck and moan his name intensely while he elicits a long, amazing orgasm from you. Your body jolts at the aftershocks, coming down from your high as cum spills all over your teal bikini. 

   “Attagirl,” he praises, working you through your orgasm, then slipping his fingers inside his mouth to clean them off properly. He groans at the taste of you, savoring the flavor against his tongue. 

   He leans back and looks at you, glistening tanned skin and chocolate coated eyes you want to melt in. He’s absolutely stunning. “Joel Miller getting me off on the beach?” you smirk as you raise an eyebrow at him.

   “Mhm, couldn’t wait to get back to the room. Had to get a taste and repay you for the favor you did for me in the truck.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but laugh and roll him over into the sand. You climb on top of his chest and drape your arms over his broad shoulders while he brings his large hands up to rub your back softly. 

   “You’re the best, Miller. Best I ever had,” you smile as you rest your chin on his tanned chest. 

   “Mmm, think you’re the best, sweetheart. Never met a girl that got me quite like you do. You’re somethin’ else.”

   He takes one of his fingertips and traces a heart in the sand, writing out your initials and drawing an arrow through the heart with a lovesick look in those pools of honey. You gawk at him, almost tearing up when you see how mesmerized he looks hovering over your initial, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him.

   “There. Now it’s our beach. Jus’ yours and mine, baby. It’s written in the sand,” he lulls warmly.

   You smile down at him, placing your hand against the soft scruff of his jaw and turn his face toward yours. You part your lips, almost speechless as words start to fail you. Joel really was a romantic after all. Your perfect, romantic, endearing boyfriend.

   “Joel Miller. You amaze me every single day. And God, I’m just so in love with you,” you muse.

   “Sweetheart, it’s me that’s so in love with you. Never gonna stop. It’s written in the sand, in the ocean, in the stars even. You’re mine, baby. All mine,” he whispers, staring up at you with the most endearing brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Everything about this moment is magical.

     You gaze into the warmth of his honey eyes and play with his tousled curls, running your fingers through the soft locks as you get lost in his gaze. You stay like that another hour, listening to the lapping waves of the ocean, soaking up the warm sun, getting hopelessly lost in his mahogany and salt water scent. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, just like he is with you. 

   After a while, Joel helps you up off the sand and leads you across the shoreline. He takes your hand in his and guides you through the lapping water, taking in the salty breeze of the sea and the picturesque vision of you and him walking along the coast. It’s so romantic, so very special, and it feels so right. His strong hand in yours, him smiling down at you with those beautiful brown eyes, and his smile that sends you over the edge every single time. It’s all just so breathtaking. 

   Maybe this was fate after all, maybe you were meant to be on this beach with Joel the whole time. It sure seems like it now. You realize why it never worked with anyone else. It’s because Joel Miller was always the one. You just didn’t know it then, but you do now. He’s the one for you. Your forever. 

   After you and Joel have showered and thrown on white silky robes, you sit on the balcony and watch the sunset paint the sky purple and amber colors. You lean into Joel on the reclining chair, letting his fingertips trace up and down your arms slowly while his lips brush against the shell of your ear. 

   “Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask, watching the waves slowly lap against the sand while he murmurs in your ear.

   “Mhm, gorgeous.” He grazes his lips against your cheek and whispers sweet words into your ear. “You wanna go back inside? Let me make love to my girl,” he whispers as he trails another kiss over your cheek. 

   You spin around and smile down at him. “Okay, handsome. What’d you have in mind?” you giggle. 

   He smirks up at you and chuckles. “You remember when we were watchin’ Scream on Halloween night, and I asked about the whole handcuff thing?”

   You raise your eyebrows in question and nod. “Yeah, what about it?”

   “Well, don’t exactly have the handcuffs, but that black silk ribbon I asked you to bring? Gonna use that to tie you to the headboard. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. That what you want?” he asks with a long Southern drawl, eyes darkening as he speaks to you in a deep voice. 

   You gulp and nod your head. “Okay, daredevil. Take me to bed then,” you whisper into the shell of his ear. 

   He wastes no time and hauls you up, cradling you in his strong arms as he makes his way through the sliding glass door, closing it with the heel of his foot. “On the bed for me, naked,” he instructs as you fully oblige. 

   The room is massive, marble countertops and fancy light fixtures filling the room. The room is dim, only a couple of lamps on as the luminescent dark blue walls cover the space. The king sized bed is pristine, white sheets with fluffy pillows covering the top of the bed. The headboard is made of light wood, and a small fireplace crackles underneath the 70 inch flat screen tv in the center of the room. 

   You slip off your robe, crawling onto the plush bed while Joel watches with wide eyes, grabbing a couple things from your pink suitcase that sits in the corner of the room. His eyes stay locked on yours, especially when you spread your legs wide and show him the sticky mess already building up over your warm core. 

   He licks his lips, dragging a hand slowly over his mouth while he feasts on your naked body. “Look at you, baby girl. Already so wet and ready for me. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ vision,” he purrs, leaning against the edge of the bed just mesmerized at the perfection that splays in front of him. 

   You smile, bedroom eyes slipping over his tanned form, and he knows exactly what that means. He crawls over you, pushing your legs further apart with his knees and catching your wrists above your head. “Stay still for me, sweetheart. Gonna tie you up now.”

   You stay still, letting him collect your wrists above your head, gently tying the black silk ribbon against the headboard. You almost moan, feeling his thigh brush against your clit as he sits back to assess his work. “You okay? Not too tight?” he asks with concerned brown eyes. 

   “Feels perfect, Joel,” you smile, giving him a mischievous smirk while your foot hikes his robe up his tanned thigh. “Gonna take that off, Miller?”

   He chuckles, untying the belt slowly and then ripping it off his body as it goes crashing to the floor. You gawk at him, watching his cock twitch before you, already hardening as he assesses your bare body before him. 

   “Look at my man. So handsome, tan, big, all mine,” you giggle. 

   “Mmm, all yours, gorgeous. Now breathe for me. Wanna try somethin’,” he murmurs with darkening eyes. 

   You see him spread your thighs more, trailing kisses up your inner thighs and brushing his nose through your folds, dragging it over your sensitive clit and ending in the soft curls above your mound. 

   He gives you a devilish grin and then licks a long, thick stripe up your core, sending a moan falling from your lips as he drinks in the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl,” he groans, licking the slick from his lips slowly. “Now, for the fun part. Think you’re gonna love this,” he smiles. 

   He reaches behind his back and grabs the vibrator that was sitting underneath your clothes in your suitcase. He turns the power on, starting it slow as the buzzing noise fills the width of the room. Before he brings it to your center, he hovers it just over your clit as he speaks. “Take a deep breath. Gonna start it slow.”

   Your breath falters when he places the end of the vibrator on your clit, pressing down and massaging slow circles across your bundle of nerves. “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, letting him revel in your long, drawn out moans.

   “Attagirl, feels good don’t it?” he chuckles, watching the way your lips part and eyes blow wide. 

   “Yeah, it feels - ohhhhh,” you moan, feeling him slip two digits into your dripping hole, working them nice and slow, curling up into the spongy wall that makes you lose control. 

   “That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s take it up a notch, shall we?” he smirks. 

   He switches the settings, powering the vibrator to a more intense level that has your legs shaking uncontrollably. He shifts his knee, pinning your thigh down so he can see the spasming movements of your ruined pussy. 

   His eyes expand into black pits, tongue licking against his bottom lip while he assesses the damage he does to your soaked core. He watches the way the slick runs down his knuckles, fingers fucking deep into your drenched pussy, obscene squelching noises and melodic moans filling the room. He’s never heard anything more beautiful in his entire life.

   He presses down harder on your throbbing clit, the buzzing motion of the vibrator making you squirm beneath his calloused fingers. “Joel, I’m so close. I’m so - oh,” you writhe, hearing the wet noises of him fucking your pussy with his thick fingers faster and faster, feeling him coaxing you on each time his fingertips kiss that perfect spongy spot that makes you black out. 

   “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises, pressing downward on the vibrator and opening a whole new sensation that makes you form your lips into a wide O, white hot heat sliding down the edge of your spine.

   “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, fusing your eyebrows together and choking on a moan. 

   “Come for me, beautiful. Make a mess on these fingers,” he coaxes. 

   One more brush of the vibrator and curl of his thick fingers and you’re gone. You moan his name, twisting your fingers into the silky ribbon as you feel the rush of bliss blow over you. You release for him, spilling all over his fingers, along with another wave of pleasure that overcomes you. You feel yourself squirt, watch yourself coat his broad chest, the scruff of his jaw with the slick that just keeps flowing. 

   “Oh, Jesus Christ you’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. There she goes. Jus’ keeps on comin’. Fuckin’ drenchin’ me,” he purrs all mesmerized and hypnotic while he talks you through it. 

   “Yeah, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off while he collects slick against your glistening mound. He slides his fingers from your insides, popping his soaked digits into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you. 

   “Joel, that was incredible,” you pant, coming back to your body after the intense orgasm washes through you.

   “Yeah? Well, I ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart,” he teases, a crooked smile forming over his beautiful face. 

   “Not yet?” you ask, laughing.

   “Not yet,” he confirms with a glint in his blown out eyes. 

   Your eyes look down, staring at the large erection between his legs. His cock is thick, the head red and swollen while precum leaks down his shaft. You go wide-eyed, licking your lips as you gaze hungrily at him. 

   “Joel,” you whine.

   “What do ya need, baby girl? Use your words.”

   You strain against your bindings, panting desperately, trying to show him how badly you need him between your thighs. “Your cock. Need you inside, please,” you beg.

   “Don’t gotta beg for me, darlin’. It’s all yours, I’m all yours,” he smiles. 

   He brings your legs over his shoulders, crawling between your thighs as he stretches you wide, cock gliding against your folds, collecting slick on his angry tip. You groan at the feeling of him, the tingling sensation his cock gives as it slides against your wetness. 

   “You ready for me?” he asks, brushing over your clit once more as you stifle a moan.

   “Mhm,” you hum.

   “Okay, baby girl. Deep breath for me,” he instructs. 

   He pushes into you, stretching you wide as his thick cock fills you to the brim. You pant, writhing beneath him while he starts a slow rhythm of going back and forth, his grunts becoming savage like when he talks you through it. 

   “There ya go, sweetheart. Takin’ me so good, jus’ like you always do,” he grunts out, his large hands caging you against him. 

   You want so badly to be able to run your hands through his hair, want to scratch your nails down the tanned skin of his back, feel the sweat building on his sculpted skin. Being tied up is hot, and something about not being in control right at this moment is really turning you on, but you also want to just be able to really feel him. 

   He sees you struggling with your wrists, pulling against the black silk while you pant out his name through every brush of his cock against your tight walls. He stills his thrusts, giving you a concerned look as he takes you in. “You okay, sweetheart? Is it too tight? Too much?” he asks with a soft voice.

   “I just… This is really hot, Joel. But I kind of just want my hands free so I can touch you,” you say with glossy eyes. 

   He chuckles, nodding his head in understanding. “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart. Here, let me jus’ fix this real quick.” His arms go over your head, carefully untying your hands from the polished headboard. He throws the black silk ribbon on the nightstand and situates himself over you again, all while still being inside you. “Better?” he asks, a crooked smile draping over the curve of his mouth. 

   You throw your arms around his neck and let out a sigh of relief as your fingers scratch up the tousled curls on the back of his neck. “Better,” you smile. 

   “Now, let me get back to makin’ love to my girl,” he says with eyes that smother over with darkening irises. 

   He ruts back into you, speeding up his thrusts as his lips come down to meet yours. You part your lips and let him slot in, drowning out your moans with the slide of his tongue as he licks feverishly inside your mouth. You twist your fingers through his sandy colored curls, eliciting a grunt from his lips as your nail beds dig across his scalp. 

   He moves his lips down to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone, sucking against the sensitive areas all while his large palms cup your breasts, pebbling your nipples with every stroke of his calloused thumbs. 

   “Oh, right there,” you whine, feeling his cock reach that certain spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

   “Yeah, feel good?” he purrs along the shell of your ear, licking his tongue along the edge of it. “How ‘bout this?” he says with a devilish grin, eyes blowing wide with dark black pits. 

   “Fuck,” you moan, feeling his thumb draw meticulous circles across your swollen clit while his cock kisses the back of your cervix, spreading wet, obscene noises around the glow of the room as his balls slap frantically against your sweaty skin. 

   You dig your nails into the back of his shoulder blades as Joel folds you like a pancake and ruts deep inside you, his cock drenched in your sticky slick. Your walls squeeze him as you feel the hot heat slide down your spine. You’re so close to spilling.

   “Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Want you to come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock. Attagirl,” he praises as he sees your eyebrows thread together, your body quivering beneath him. 

   He slides his thumb in slow circles over your buzzing clit, cock hitting your spongy wall again and again and again until you can’t hold back any longer. You squeeze his thick cock, moaning his name as white hot heat takes control of your body. You feel yourself start to spill, covering Joel in your blissful orgasm that coats him in your slick.

   “Attagirl, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, talking you through your high as your body starts to come down from sweet release. 

   He pushes your legs further apart, cock working swiftly in and out of your core as he chases his own release. “Oh yeah, fuck me,” he growls, thrusting in and out faster and faster until he’s furrowing his eyebrows together and clenching his jaw, spilling hot ropes of cum inside you till he collapses at your side and pulls you flush to his chest. 

   You both pant out in exhaustion, sheets soaked from the sweat of skin on skin, bodies tangled together as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles warmly over at you. “Did so good for me, baby. Always do so good,” he praises, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek as you take in the starry flecks of amber brown of his dreamy eyes.

   “Thanks for showing me something new. Never knew I could be so into bondage,” you tease, smirking his way with flirtatious eyes he can’t seems to look away from.

   “Mmm, we’ll jus’ have to explore those kinks together then, yeah?”

   You giggle while you run a hand through his messy curls, taking in this beautiful moment of you and Joel on a weekend getaway together. It feels so natural, so right being here with him. You guess it’s just always felt like this ever since starting this whole thing with him.

   After a few minutes of just staring at one another mesmerized, Joel traces his thumb across your bottom lip and smiles gently at you. “You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you when I met you?” he asks quietly.

   “What?” you laugh gently, placing your palm over the top of his hand.

   “Your eyes. Never saw such beautiful eyes before. And your smile. God, that gorgeous smile. Thought I was seein’ an angel the first time you looked at me.”

   Your breath gets caught in your throat, the outside waves being muted from the man that lies in front of you. “Joel… that’s so… wow,” you whisper breathlessly.

   “Think I was in love before we even started dating, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest with myself, I should’ve known all along. You’re exactly the woman I’ve been lookin’ for. You’re so beautiful and smart and kind. I’m jus’ so… fuck, I jus’ love you a lot.”

   Your mouth drops open, a gasp leaving your throat as you stare at him like a lovesick puppy. You’re almost too overwhelmed right now with tears licking the backs of your eyes. “Joel Miller, you sweet, sweet man. I never thought… I only dreamed that this could all be real. I never knew it’d turn into this. But I’m so crazy about you, and I love you so so much.”

   His eyes tear up, brown syrupy flecks glistening back at you in the starry moonlight. He looks so happy and so in love that your heart swells like a balloon in your chest. “Thank you again for taking me to Galveston. You’re the best, Miller,” you smile, fingers entwining with his. 

   “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’d take you here anytime. Jus’ say the words, I’ll take you anywhere. As long as I get to be with my girl, that’s enough for me,” he smiles.

   You pull him in for a long kiss, getting lost in the scent of the ocean breeze and the woodsy scent of his cologne. This may last forever, it may not, but you’re going to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts. 

Tags: @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @vividispunk @mrslawrencealbarn @pedrossl4t @pedroswife69 @sarap-77 @casa-boiardi @princesatracionera @msjarvis

[alchemicaladarna]

I don't want to be sad anymore, so personally, I don't think Pomme and Dapper are dead.

One, it doesn't really feel right to say they died after the admins left, for very valid reasons obviously. Like idk, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Two, there's so much potential you can do with their stories after the fact, than just say "oh their characters died. The end."

So here's what I think happened:

Dapper and Pomme found a very ancient and powerful spell they used to escape the island. How did they do it? That's up to interpretation, but Dapper is the son of a demon/fallen angel, the grim reaper himself. She's also a highly skilled occultist. I think between her and Pomme, they would find some powerful sorcery that helped them escape.

Also as a side note, Pomme has the most amount of non-human parents. I imagine she's very powerful herself.

So, they open a rift in the island's barrier and Dapper and Pomme break the tether that binds them to whatever is keeping everybody on Quesadilla Island and escape through some kind of portal that opens up to the other side of the world. Of course, they are still only children and the spell can only do so much. Unfortunately, only they manage to escape, so they can only hope that they'll see their dad and their family again someday.

Another sidenote: I don't think the capybaras are bound to the island, so when the rift opened, they noticed Pomme and Dapper leaving. Two capybaras, Alexandre and Dansir, went with the two kids and eventually found them- keeping them safe and guarding them from the dangers of the world during their travels.

Whether Bad knows about the spell and helped them escape is another thing that's up to interpretation. But you know, there's still the angst of him being alone in the house now. All he can hope for is that one day he'll see his kids again one day, and have faith that they're taking care of themselves, and are doing alright in the world.

Some ghosties followed them, so Pomme and Dapper can still communicate with Bad via Ghostie telepathy maybe? Ghostie telephone? Ghostie mind link?? In other words, Lumi and Shade appear in Bad's chat sometimes XD.

So yeah, my personal headcanon is that Dapper and Pomme are out there, exploring the world and researching everything about magic and science. Anything that can help them destroy the Federation and free their family from the evil clutches of those keeping them there, so that they may be with their loved ones once again.

It's not a goodbye. It's just the beginning of a new chapter for Dapper and Pomme. It's like when the main character of a movie or smth journeys out of their hometown to explore the world, become stronger, and defeat the great evil once and for all!!

This is my canon now, and the photo that inspired this post lmao.

[royalarchivist]

Fit: This is actually kinda fun. Ok, so: Cucuruchito, what is your favorite food?

Cucuruchito: Oh darling, as an entity I don't eat, however, I am quite partial to the idea of a charming quesadilla. They are the star of my home, Quesadilla Island, after all. Now, what about you, sweetie? What tantalizes your taste buds?

Fit: I mean, Cucuruchito, you keep talking to me like that, I mean uh... [Laughs] Called me "sweetie," I mean, I dunno what's gonna happen. Um, my favorite food is probably... steak. [He shrugs] Maybe that's why I like Brazil so much.

Cucuruchito: Oh, Fit, you've got me blushing like a ripe tomato! I can see that you're the steak to my sizzling hot plate. Don't you think our conversation has more sizzle than a steak on a hot grill? Perhaps we could have that steak together next time and add more spice to this little rendezvous. Winking face.

Fit: [Dying in the background, trying to compose himself] WHAT THE FCK. WHAT?! [Shouts]

Cucuruchito:

Fit: [Runs away and laughs] Fck it, I can't I can't, I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't fcking do this. I cannot do– [Laughs]

[magicalmanhattanproject]

so the thing i think a lot of people don't quite appreciate about 2b2t is that like. so it's an anarchy server, right? and that means it's infamous for the constant griefing and murder and suchlike, but from a lore and backstory perspective, i'm a lot more interested in the exploits and hacking side

bc the thing is that 2b2t doesn't actually have no rules. like. it has no rules, but also the single admin does modify things fairly regularly to disable certain exploits. this is because if he didn't, the server would be entirely annihilated so incredibly quickly. check out this video for an absolutely ludicrous tale of how 2b2ters exploit even the anti-exploit measures by the way

but the point is, fit is from a world that is always right on the verge of being shattered. in fact, it is always actively being shattered. it's a world where reality itself is barely limping along, battered and bloodied by roving gangs of the craziest genius motherfuckers you've ever heard of.

the point is, whatever funkiness in reality erases the memories of residents on quesadilla island, they don't even come close to what fitmc deals with on a regular basis. and that's why he remembers what others don't. the federation didn't think it needed to specifically target anyone and they were just relying on the weight of all the mods and the resulting lag to cause memory issues on their own. but fit has survived and bounced back from chunk bans before. it's gonna take more than a crash he's supposed to survive to stop him

that's also why this island is still paradise to him. he hasn't forgotten that it could take everything from him nor how dangerous it is that he now has something to lose. but he does sometimes find himself wandering la france at its laggiest just to taste air that smells the way it should

[oneforthemunny]

hiya Evie! happy April!

feel free to toss this one out in the trash if you've already covered it before but I saw a tiktok the other day of people talking about their pregnancy hormones and the rage/sobbing and how they were genuinely writing up divorce papers over their husband eating their medium fry or crying hard because the quesadilla they woke him up at 3am to make wasn't "made with love"

and it just made me wonder how your eddies would handle it?

omg i saw that! i saw another too that was similar and the comments were so fucking funny.

truthfully, i think the worst would be with cowboy!eddie. not because he's bad, it just hits her the worst. especially with coop. they also live far out, so he can't run through a taco bell or a 24/7 walmart as easily.

i think it would be a mix of being uncomfortable, having the worst cravings, emotional, and also not wanting to wake eddie up because she knows he's been working and she should just get up and get it, but he makes them so much better and she's starving.

wakes him up already sniffly and he's so concerned. "what? what's wrong? what- is it the baby? the baby? are you alright?" he's up in a matter of seconds, wide awake, flinging the light on.

"no." you sniffle, rubbing a hand down your stomach. "i mean, yeah, the baby's fine, but we're hungry."

eddie's head hurts from how fast his heart was beating, still trying to wake up and wrap his head around everything. "ok? go get somethin'."

and then the tears start. "hey, hey, ok. what d'you want? i'll go get it for you-"

"-no. i feel bad." you sob. "i want a quesadilla, but you're sleeping, but i want one so bad-"

"-i'll go make one. just-" eddie holds his hands out. "relax, baby. don't stress yourself." he's still getting used to the hormones, the absolute swings in mood.

he makes it, brings it to you with a glass of water. eddie thinks everythings fine, still half asleep, laying back down. he hears a huff of irritation, eyes opening. "what?"

"this doesn't taste like how you normally make it." you frown.

eddie swallows his own grunting huff of irritation. "well, it is, baby. same way."

your lip wobbles but nose scrunches in anger. "i told you i felt bad that you had to make it! it's just what the baby- your baby was craving!"

eddie's blinking bc what the actual fuck??? "i know, that's why i made it-"

"-yeah but you- you made it and you're mad and i can taste it!" you wail, pressing your palms into your eyes. "you didn't make it with love! now the baby is eating something not made with love!"

eddie's not really sure what the fuck is going on. so he just hugs you instead, tries to soothe you because he feels like he might be having an out of body experience lol.

[anonymous-dentist]

1946

There are plenty of legends surrounding Count Dracula. They say that he bathes in the blood of virgins. He has knives for hands and his fangs are sharp enough to cut the very air itself. He can turn into a bat. He can turn into a mist. He’s over one thousand years old, but he doesn’t look a day over fifty.

This, of course, is all bullshit. Count Dracula isn’t real, and Cellbit isn’t even one hundred yet, and he certainly doesn’t look fifty years old. He has a shower and electricity and a radio. He even has an automobile, not that he uses it for anything but trips to town to beg the werewolves to please stop leaving dead rabbits on his front porch.

Still. Maybe living in the crumbling remains of a long-abandoned castle on a hill surrounded by dead trees and graveyards full of empty tombstones and half-disturbed graves gives a bit of an impression. And maybe Cellbit was a bit dramatic when he was first turned, but who wouldn’t be when faced with immortality for the first time?

Quesadilla Island is no stranger to the supernatural. There are the werewolves in town, there are the demons scattered across the island. There’s the talking skeleton that cries if you look at him weirdly. And then there’s Cellbit, “Count Dracula”, the island’s only living vampire.

Quesadilla Island is no stranger to the supernatural. Vampires are a danger to society, and so it’s up to vampire hunters like those from the Federation to make sure the vampires stay under control and away from the more fragile citizens.

And that’s fine, really. Cellbit hates people, anyway. He likes how they taste, but the artificial blood that Mouse magicks up for him once a week is a good substitute.

He likes his castle, and he likes his alone time, and he likes spending said alone time in the secret room in his basement trying to figure out ways to absolutely slaughter the shit out of every Federation hunter on the island so he can live in peace.

Tonight is one such night. The werewolves are all transformed with the full moon, and Richarlyson is with Felps in the Square for the night, so Cellbit is, thankfully, alone. He can polish his knives in peace.

And then he hears a knock at the door for the first time in half a century.

“Hola?” he hears. “Dracula?”

Cellbit perks up despite his best attempts to play at being annoyed. He knows this voice, it belongs to one of the non-supernatural townsfolk. The cute one he’s only spoken to once, and the one he probably shouldn’t speak to again if his drunken memories are anything to live by.

The vampire hunter.

Cellbit immediately rushes upstairs and pauses in the foyer to fix his hair in a mirror. Unfortunately, he can’t see his reflection. Fuck.

He opens the door, anyway, and he tries not to be too obvious with his smile as he leans against the doorframe just oh so casually.

“Hello!” he cheerfully says. “Good evening!”

He immediately internally smacks himself as the hunter raises both eyebrows. Too obvious.

Cellbit clears his throat and repeats in a much calmer voice, “I mean. Hello. Good evening. I was not expecting you.”

The hunter looks him over, and it occurs to Cellbit that this is the first time that they’ve ever spoken. Ever. Of course, he already knew this, but-

The hunter smiles and makes eye contact. “Can I come in?”

“Uh. Sure?”

The hunter winks, and then he ducks under Cellbit’s arm and enters the castle as Cellbit stands there, frozen. What.

“Nice place.” The hunter whistles. “Is it just you?”

Cellbit stares at him, watching as the hunter flops onto the foyer’s most grandiose sofa and kick his muddy feet up onto the seat. The door closes, but neither pays it any mind.

“Ah,” says Cellbit. “Sometimes. Can I help you?”

The hunter shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He gives Cellbit another once-over, eyes lingering on Cellbit’s neck and chest- uncovered, for once, because his shirt has been left with the top buttons undone, for once, because he was alone just a few minutes ago.

If Cellbit was capable of blushing, he would be doing so. Instead, he buttons his shirt back up and coughs into his fist.

That seems to jolt the hunter back into action because he hops off the sofa as quickly as he had fallen onto it and he smooths down his long red coat and he says, “I want to… ugh, how do I say this?”

He paces a little, hand running through his hair, and then he throws his head back and just kinda blurts it out: “I want to kill Cucurucho.”

He looks at Cellbit, frozen yet again. “Can you help me with that?”

Cucurucho is evil incarnate. It’s also the current head of the vampire hunters of the island, complete with its own personal armory of bullshit tools meant to make Cellbit’s life a living hell: stakes, holy water, blessed weapons. It even has a dagger in the shape of a crucifix, what the fuck?

Cellbit wants it dead. He wants to suck the life out of its unholy abomination of a body and he wants to burn its corpse in the sunlight it holds so dearly. He’s got a thousand potential murders in mind for it, but that’s gotta come off a little strong, right?

So Cellbit shrugs very casually. “Maybe. Why?”

That’s the million-dollar question: why would one of Cucurucho’s own loyal hunters want it dead?

The hunter looks down at the ground briefly before looking back up at Cellbit with absolute nothing in his eyes.

“My son is dead,” he says, very, very calmly. “And so Cucurucho needs to be dead, too. That’s all.”

This is the look of a man already dead.

“Okay,” Cellbit says. He nods, because he, too, is a father. Somehow.

The hunter blinks slowly. “Just like that?”

“What, did you want me to interrogate you some more?”

“I dunno. Aren’t you supposed to hypnotize me or something?”

Cellbit raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to hypnotize you?”

(He can’t, but the hunters don’t need to know that.)

“I mean… maybe? I don’t know how this works, man!” The hunter throws his arms up and collapses back onto the couch in an annoyed huff. “Maybe you’re just going to eat me, who knows?”

Cellbit delicately takes a seat on the closest chair… which so happens to be the one nearest the hunter’s sofa. What a coincidence.

“You know that I don’t eat people,” he scoffs. Not anymore, anyway…

“I mean, sure, but you’re Count Dracula! You’re weird!”

Cellbit blinks. That’s one way to describe him.

“I’m not Dracula,” he says. “You people do know that, right? Like, you do know that he’s copyrighted material. I couldn’t be him if I wanted to.”

The hunter looks at him incredulously. “No mames, who the fuck are you, then?”

What, so they actually don’t know? What?

“Uh,” says Cellbit, a little caught up in how fucking stupid his tormentors really seem to be. “Cellbit?”

The hunter’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, I knew I recognized you from somewhere!”

Uh-oh…

Cellbit’s glad that he can’t blush, because he’s got a bad feeling coming on based off of the way the hunter actively scoots down the sofa and towards him, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.

“I was really drunk, but-” the hunter says. “But! I remembered your name!”

Cellbit swallows a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember yours.”

“That’s fine, you will.”

And that isn’t intimidating at all.

“Because you are the vampire who turned me!”

The hunter pulls back the side of his unbuttoned shirt to show some very sculpted muscles… and two little pinpricks right on his collar still scarring over even three weeks after the fact.

Cellbit’s mouth goes dry. Because maybe he got a little drunk at Forever’s Halloween party three weeks ago, and maybe he hooked up with the most beautiful man on Quesadilla Island for the night. The night is a fuzzy mess at best, and he certainly doesn’t remember turning anyone, but he does remember:

“Roier,” he weakly says. “I am so sorry.”

The hunter- Roier’s- smile is blinding. “Don’t be. Because now there are two vampires on the island, yes? And Cucurucho can’t kill both of us.”

…To Be Continued?

[pastafossa]

What is this belief that Matt Murdock can't cook?

You're telling me the man who can sense the temperature of water just by radiant heat, who can determine the exact firmness of some cooking noodles from across the room, who can take a bite of an omelette and likely tell you where it was bought and how long it was cooked based on texture alone, the man who can detect the most perfectly ripe fruits and veggies by touch AND smell, the man who can sense exactly what and how many seasonings were used in a recipe he tastes and therefore replicate that seasoning blend, the man who can tell you exactly when your pie in the oven has achieved peak golden brown flakiness because he knows what perfect crust smells like... can't cook?

Horseshit.

Horseshit.

SHIRE HORSE HORSESHIT.

You want this man in your kitchen, even when his methods are unconventional.

He tends to pick ugly vegetables others skip over because he can't see color or shape but he knows they're ripe and flavorful.

He can't reliably flip pancakes or quesadillas on his bad days because he's tired and his radar senses are worn out and he's still blind afterall, but he can always make amazing soup instead because he can toss it all into a pot and rely on smell.

His cabinets have unusual ingredients until you realize it's because he can identify all the 'secret' ingredients chefs use to make their food taste amazing.

His plating methods are a mess but no one ever cares because in those rare times Matt can afford to cook for someone else, his food tastes too good to complain.

His cookies are mangled shapes, they look like mutated goats with 5 legs if he ever tries to do anything but round balls, but who gives a shit, you come to God when you taste them.

This man does not use a timer. He is a timer, and if you're willing to trust him when he says, 'it doesn't smell done, give it another 2 minutes' even when it looks done, you'll be rewarded with orgasmic level food.

MATT. CAN. COOK.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[trekwiz]

Food Replicators: A Missed Opportunity

I was just thinking about how we see food replicators portrayed in Star Trek: people generally eat their "staples". It's even a way to offer "a bit of home" for traveling alien species--just download the appropriate culinary database and you're good to go.

But we haven't really seen the shows explore what happens to a cuisine once you introduce replicators.

Sure. You had a busy day at work so you come home to your go-to. We make a lot of quesadillas: they're low effort, and it's easy to get a lot of variety in the fillings. And yeah, if I had a replicator, I'm probably still going to eat quesadillas.

But I really love dumplings. Especially fried dumplings and soup dumplings. I can make fried dumplings. It's a lot of work and it never tastes anywhere near as good as restaurant dumplings. I get them maybe once a month or every other month.

But if I had a replicator? My diet would probably be mostly dumplings. That's only a slight exaggeration. I would probably eat them daily--and try a variety of recipes--some days for lunch, some for dinner. And I might even explore what breakfast dumplings would be like: would egg and bacon dumplings work?

If I had a replicator, my staple foods would be different from what my staples are in reality. Not drastically. But it would be noticeable.

I want to add one more layer of complexity, though. I'm imagining foods I know I enjoy, and removing the expense and effort from the equation. I can easily recognize how my food norms would change under those terms. Exploring that concept is interesting enough, but it doesn't really capture how deeply a replicator could affect cuisine.

Can replicators make impossible foods?

What completely unique thing could come out of a replicator that revolutionizes what we eat?

The premise of a replicator is that it doesn't cook food. It assembles molecules in the right sequence, at an appealing temperature. That would necessarily suggest something huge: cooking methods can be irrelevant.

Could you have soft, steamed broccoli stems, with a crisp sautéed floret still attached? Roasted Potatoes with an au gratin interior?

How many desserts with mutually exclusive bake times and methods could now be seamlessly combined together? Maybe a perfectly baked meringue inside a cake instead of on top?

You could probably have a literal creme brulee snack bar, with a crispy caramelized shell all around it, holding it together.

People would experiment. Which ones take off as a standard after dinner treat for local culture, and which ones are so fantastic that they become tomorrow's festival foods? Which ones spur "gross" eating competions? Will this affect food fights?

I feel like this would be an interesting side plot for a random food historian on the crew to geek out over.

[merao-mariposa]

we'll meet again on some snowy day

In which they meet again after Phil travels to the other plane

<3•<3•<3•<3•<3

Philza was busy, and Missa knew very well what it was like to be busy, so instead of being upset by his husband's sudden absence, he took advantage of filling the hours of alone time he couldn't have with his children in the past.

The happiest moments of his days being the three of them were those in which he could learn more about his children, the proper method to care for Lullah's hair or Chayanne's interest in streaming. Now that they were off the island, his little ones' imagination was the limit.

He allowed himself to breathe the cold air that played in his lungs, Quesadilla did not reach that cold even in its harshest winters, but the arctic hardly had warmth to give if you moved away from the dominions of the empire.

he noticed in the distance how another black shadow was approaching, crossing the frozen air with impetus and Missa smiled slyly when he was close enough to his earshot shouting the now customary "MUMZA SEND GREETINGS"

As quickly as the little crow got to him Missa made sure to lavish his plumage with soft, loving caresses, slightly interrupting his loud ramblings of “TECHNOBLADE AND PHIL TOOK A TEA” “DADZA CHOKED ON HIS MUG LMAO” “GREAT EMPIRE, POG EMPIRE” “SOUL HARVEST POST TEA O7” “TEA FOR THE ANGEL OF DEATH” “SOULS FOR THE EMPIRE” “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” with loud purrs

Soon the tea party gossip between old friends and apparent war crimes was amplified when a cloud blackened his view, surrounding him with hundreds of messenger crows that Phil had sent to keep his family updated on his adventures with the most important people in his life, he laughed with joy as he tried to pay attention to the messages he had been receiving for a while.

It was a dense cloud, so dense that Missa had difficulty seeing beyond his nose and even so he smiled happily knowing that Philza had been able to safely reunite with his people, he was a little afraid that as soon as they escaped from quesadilla the older man would not longer want him and the reaper would never see him again thanks to the difference in power between them, from the angel of death to a simple death reaper made him feel small.

He should have given him more credit, Philza is loyal in a way only a crow would ever be.

Missa is enthralled with the cloud of happy stories wishing that the sapphire-eyed man could stay longer on the plane of the dead experiencing more wonders that he did not notice anything else until a pair of firm, warm arms rested firmly on his waist.

He cried out loud and confused when the crows began to chant a name that tasted like honey in his mouth. Amazing how no matter how much time passed Missa always seemed to fit into Phil's arms like he was made to be in them forever.

The cold blue sky or the frozen ice envies the bluish color in his man's eyes and when he smiles at him, he feels the snow melting around him, every time he returns from the celestial plane he looks happier and revitalized as if shining with pure joy and Missa wants him to stay there and be this happy every day of his life, he deserves it. Stupefied, he still does not notice how among the sea of ​​feathers that still surround them, a pair of revitalized wings press around him like a shield against the elements.

“Misaaaa”

“Philza!”

“Missa…” His warm breath against Missa's collarbones makes him shiver and he places his hands on the opponent's shoulders. Allowing himself to enjoy the shorter man's company.

“I missed you” mentions the skeleton

“I missed you too” he murmurs something muffled against the fabric that protects Missa's body.

“How is the boss?”

“Well, she sends you greetings!” As if he didn't already know from the crows "Techno too, he says hello and asks when are you taking Chayanne to train?"

Sighing softly into the blonde hair Missa allows himself to meditate. “Mmh he flew to the Nether to help Dapper with a special loot or something. "he'll probably be back in a day or two."

Philza laughed softly at the thought of his little dragon, more than worrying about him, he would worry about every damn mod down there.

“When is Techno available, cariño?”

“For his favorite nephew? It better be all the time in the world,” Philza exclaimed with a happy laugh that pierced Missa's chest literally and figuratively.

Suddenly the crows around him cleared up a bit but before Missa could react a soft and indignant voice echoed in their minds.

“Chay is not Uncle Techno's favorite!”

“Llulah!!” Philza left his husband's comfortable chest to greet the dragon that was flying near them.

Although he will deeply miss the touch as soon as it faded, he knew that he would have the arms of his platonic husband again later, he allowed himself to enjoy the scene in front of him without worrying about anything else: Chayanne's absence was felt in the air but the laughter of father and daughter only predicted positivity, for a moment he almost lost the elegant but simple clothes in light blue tones and the royal blue cape that adorned his partner, on his head rested a gold crown symbol of the Empire. His girl, on the other hand, had soft and deep colors, something about her still gave vibes to a pre-Hispanic dragon, a mix between snake scales and colorful feathers, there were also poppies snaking between her long horns that Phil was now complimenting, “Chayanne will be so pissed off when he see that they grew more than his”

“Let's see those teeth!”

Both dragons were omnivores with a special attraction to meat but if Missa had to guess

“Is it me or are Chayanne's even bigger?” Missa asked, stroking Lullah's snout a little, who did not hesitate to blow some thick, black smoke from her nostrils into Missa's face.

Philza burst into laughter as Missa tried to scold the dragoness, ignoring that some ash got in his face making him look very funny actually.

“If you don't behave I'll make your dad cook today!” Llulah remained silent about that, wanting to refute something about how her fangs were sharper than Chay's, how apá Missa deserved it a little, which was with love! And pray not to have the classics…

“In fact I learned a new recipe with avocado toast, do you want to hear that? You have an avocado toast and BOOM you put nother one on top” Lullah made a tired groan and Dadza was such a smug “I call it; an avocado sandwich”

“That's great, man” Missa barely contained the urge to laugh while the dragon twisted her tail in displeasure, “But you won't be too tired now to cook?”

“Definitely not for you, mate”

Laughter resounded once again in the frozen when, just as when she was a small egg, Lullah dropped into an exaggerated pose of defeat.

Yeah. he felt good having waited for this.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 4/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

                “Taste it. What is it missing?”

                “It’s bland. Needs… some bite. Acid?”

                “Mmm. Good. Now try this.”

                “Yeah. That’s better.”

                “I’m teaching you to taste. Salty. Sweet. Creamy. Acid. Fat. How does it feel in your mouth? Food is about all the senses. You feed them all.”

                “How to do you do that with touch?”

                Leandro tsks with frustration, hand gesturing wildly.

                “You touch with your tongue. Mouth feel, how it feels, that is important. Smooth and silky sauce, or crunchy brittle. From the moment someone arrives their eating experience begins. Understand?”

                “I understand.”

…            …            …           

                Jake has collected the platter of quesadillas he ordered, carrying it over to the table where Bradley is sitting and waiting. There are three different types of filling and there’s no flare to the presentation but the smell wafting from the cardboard tray tells him it’s going to be good. The music and festive atmosphere is nice, makes him feel like part of the community and it’s relaxing not being under the microscope of cameras or set directors. Jake sits beside him on the table corner so the food is between them.

                He doesn’t miss the way that Jake hooks an ankle around his, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if Bradley’s going to do anything about it and he just grins and reaches for one of the smaller cut triangles, presses his leg against Jake’s. Two can play at that game. Then he bites through the crunch of the quesadilla into the soft-melted cheese that makes a little string as he bites a smaller piece off, then there is the accompanying crunch and burst of tanginess of a pepper and he moans appreciatively.

                “Oh my god, this is delicious.”

                “I know right? So good,” Jake says with a grin, and then he dips his segment into what looks like plain ketchup. Bradley has to ask, has to know what the hell he’s doing.

                “Are you… dipping that in ketchup?”

                “Yep.”

                He knows he makes a little distressed sound, because these are good, and the idea that Jake is just overriding the flavor profile with something as mundane as ketchup makes a part of him twitch, but he also has to remind himself it’s not his fucking food and he needs to calm the fuck down. There are other sauces, a salsa verde which goes amazingly well with the cheese and pepper quesadillas, the sour cream with the spicier chicken and tomato quesadillas, then a tomato-based salsa and guacamole to go with the other quesadilla that has ground beef and onion and jalapenos. Everything is so fresh, and perfect and he for sure isn’t going to be putting ketchup on anything but Jake eating whatever he wants is fine.

                It’s fine.

                Because he’s been taught to try everything he even tries a little bit of each one with ketchup, and yeah, it’s plain store bought ketchup and he is baffled as to why anyone would have ketchup over any of the other accompanying sauces but he’s quickly become endeared by it. Well, endeared by Jake. While he’s been taught to try everything, he’s also been taught that eating is meant to be about enjoyment. Jake is clearly enjoying it, his smile easy and relaxed, licking his fingers in a way that isn’t distracting at all, his foot tapping to the music and he’s looking at Bradley like he’d maybe like to dip him in ketchup and eat him. He grins at the thought. He’d let him.

                First though he needs to say thank you to the chef, maybe ask to work in his kitchen for a day at some point, because the salsa verde is maybe the best he’s ever tasted. He picks up the trash and gestures toward the truck where Jake ordered from. Jake is following him, talking and waving greetings to the few people who call out to him and Bradley likes that he’s not the one being singled out here. He slips into Spanish, knows it’s potentially too formal but he’s also very clearly American so the fact he’s even trying goes a long way and he can tell the chef is impressed with the language skills and his questions. He gets an invitation to come and help with prep for a day in exchange for watching the making of the salsa verde and he snaps it up, scribbling his number and name on a napkin and grinning when the other man’s eyes go wide when he reads the name. Bradley just gives him a big grin and thanks him again before turning back to Jake.

                “You speak Spanish?”

                “Sí.”

                “And also Italian, because you were talking in Italian when we met.”

                “Sì. I was. I also speak French and German and Swedish and then I have some Arabic, Mandarin and Japanese. Those are just the languages I feel confident in.”

                “Holy shit. Why so many?”

                Bradley shrugs, because he didn’t really have a reason, and he can’t really write in any of them except the French and Italian.

                “I find languages easy, but I travel a lot for work now, because I speak so many languages. People like having me around.”

                “You’re one of those poly-people… the ones that speak lots of languages.”

                “A polyglot. And yeah, I am.”

                “And here I was thinking my little streak in Duolingo was impressive.”

                “I’m sure it’s very impressive. What language are you learning with Duolingo?”

                “Italian.”

                Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up.

                “Really?”

                “Hmm. Seems I needn’t have bothered…”

                “Oh no, I always appreciate effort. Effort is nearly always more impressive than the end product.”

                “You think so huh?”

                “Mmm. Going to show off some of your Italian?”

                “Was going to show off some of my dancing moves,” Jake says, looking towards where there are people line dancing and Bradley’s mind flashes back to dancing with Jake in the club in Italy, the press of their bodies against each other and he’ll dance with Jake if that’s what he really wants, but he is also more than happy for them to find a bed. Line dancing doesn’t allow him to press himself against Jake’s body the way he wants and he might as well lay his cards on the table.

                “Don’t think I need you show me your dance moves. How about you show me some other type of moves? Vieni a casa con me?”

                Jake blinks at him, and Bradley waits patiently, switching language mid-sentence was maybe a bit mean but he’s liking the little wide-eyed and wild look that’s starting to flicker in Jake’s expression and he steps in close, places his lips close to Jake’s ear and whispers the words again. Vieni a casa con me? Come home with me?

                “Yeah. Yeah come one. Want to talk about being something more than friends…”

                Bradley laughs and lets Jake lead him back to his truck.

…            …            …

                Jake keeps thinking that he should maybe hold back a little, be less demanding, less rough maybe, that holding Leo’s hands above his head while he places biting kisses over Leo’s jaw and throat is simply too much, except that Leo is so eager and responsive, Jake can’t stop himself from giving in and being as toppy as he wants. Still he’s a little surprised when Leo presses a condom into his hand and murmurs want you to fuck me against Jake’s mouth and he can’t tell if it’s a demand or plea. Also he really wants Leo to say it in another language, because apparently that’s a kink Jake didn’t know he had. However he needs to practice more, because at the moment Leo could be reading the phonebook in Italian and Jake would have no clue.

                Having snuck into Leo’s accommodation and somehow avoided everyone else staying there Jake finally has him naked, ridiculously long legs spread so he can kneel between them and Jake is working Leo open with one slick finger, helping hold his legs open with a hand braced on the inside of one of Leo’s thighs.

                “God you’re gorgeous…” Jake says, his gaze caught between where his finger is slipping in and out of Leo’s hole and Leo’s flushed face, half-hidden due to the fact he’s thrown his arm over his eyes, like he either can’t watch Jake; or doesn’t want Jake to see him as he falls apart. The way he jerks against Jake’s hand makes him suspect the latter.

                “Cazzo…”

                “Oh, that’s a swear word. I know that one…” Jake says, and he adds more lube, slides in another finger and watches as Leo bites on his lip and doesn’t seem to breathe for a few seconds before he gasps for air.

                “Jake.”

                “Mmm,” Jake murmurs, because there’s nothing to say, not really. Their fingers and hands and bodies are doing all of the talking right now. He crooks his fingers, can feel the spongy bundle of nerves and feels smug when Leo gasps, his cock jerking against his stomach, the head getting sticky with pre-cum.

                “Don’t fucking tease…” Leo mutters, one of his legs hooking around Jake to try and bring him closer. “Come on. Please.”

                “Patience is a virtue.”

                “I’m not a virtuous man. Hurry the fuck up.”

                He slides a third finger in and almost laughs at Leo’s grown of frustration, his head thumping back onto the mattress and Jake speeds things up a little, his own cock starting to become uncomfortably hard and needing something.

                “Come on, I’m ready.”

                “Yeah, yeah okay…” Jake agrees, because even if he doesn’t completely agree he’s not going to fucking argue the point when Leo so clearly wants him to fuck him and his entire body is hot at the thought of sinking into the clenching heat of him. Leo pulls at him with both hands, dragging him into an absolutely filthy kiss that really hammers home just how ready he is and Jake is totally on board with it all.

                And finally, after Jake has rolled the condom on with unsteady hands, he sinks his cock in slowly, God, so so slowly, starts mentally reciting the pre-flight checks to stop himself from just letting go completely. Lets his hands run over Leo’s body and categorizes tense muscles or discomfit or anything else he can maybe pick up on. Once he’s fully inside of Leo, Jake holds himself very still, bracing himself on his arms as he stares down at Leo, who has his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

                “Leo,” Jake manages, his voice strangled, “Leo, is this –”

                “Good. It’s good,” Leo breathes, shifting slightly, enough that it has Jake biting at his lip to keep control. “Just, ah, give me a moment…” He breathes in and out and Jake watches his chest rise and fall and wonders if he’s imagining feeling his heartbeat around his cock. Then he’s opening his eyes and he’s nodding. “Come on… want to feel it.” Jake is pretty sure that’s a forgone conclusion but he slowly starts to rock in and out, shallow thrusts at first, but as he and Leo move together, the pace begins to pick up until Jake is swearing and sweating as he practically bends Leo in half, pounding into him hard enough to send the headboard of the bed rattling against the wall, the slick noises of their bodies coming together an obscene soundtrack in Jake’s ears, matched by Leo’s slurred voice urging him on. Harder, oh God, Jake, it’s so good, a little harder, please, fuck are the only words he can make out in English, though there are others. It’s sweet and filthy and everything that Jake wants to hear, everything that Jake could want, and he sets his teeth into the muscle of Leo’s shoulder. Leo’s hand grips his ass hard at that, his body clenching tighter around Jake’s cock. He keeps fucking into him with short, sharp thrusts until Leo is gasping and coming apart around him, beneath him, and Jake squeezes his eyes shut and follows soon after in a hazy rush of pleasure.

[isa-ghost]

Hey Isa, you wouldn't happen to have any head cannons back there would you?

Also, I hope you're doing well

Yeah hold on lemme check in the back *glass breaking* *metal clanging* *vine boom* *BRUH.mp4* *more glass breaking* *cartoon boink* *high pitched scream* *Taco Bell dong*

Okay got em here ya go

Phil headcanons masterlist

Quesadilla Island gave him SUCH a taste for Latin food and he can't fucking just Get That when he's home in the Hardcore world. Can you imagine him asking Rose to open a portal to another world for a 2am Taco Bell run. That's not even real/good Latin food but can you imagine.

Actually that's another thing he misses, Rose doesn't communicate with him directly when he's home. I don't have an idea of what the reasoning is for that but :(

Goddess of Death likes to tease him about his perching. She makes him so self-aware of it and he hates it but in that "god fucking damn it Kristin. I'm doing it again" way.

Ender King is just a bitch. Phil was scared of him on Quesadilla Island because there was no control or way of predicting what he'd do there. Or why. Or how. Phil generally isn't scared of a long-dead bitch baby. No, there's a hardcore deity we haven't met yet that he's scared of. And if Apollo doesn't dodgeball me on this the day Phil does a new build to introduce one of the two we haven't met yet, I might make a fan deity.

👆🏻 I mentioned this on stream Friday 9/6, I'm already cooking on the fan deity LMAO.

As a chronic overthinker who's way too insistent on constantly mentally firing on all cylinders in order to survive, this dumbass frequently forgets that taking walks (or more commonly: flights) help him unwind and actually organize his thoughts. He's so bad at walking away for a bit and returning to something with fresh eyes and a clear head. And then he remembers to do that finally and is like 🤯 about it.

Honestly, the same could be said for his emotions. I might have made a hc to this effect before, but he has such a bad habit of clinging to distractions or stubbornly trucking on from things instead of just letting himself Sit with his emotions, processing them and letting them just exist and then pass. He's a very proactive coper, but sometimes action isn't the answer and that's something he hasn't quite learned yet (Rose is trying to teach him this). He absolutely fucking hates doing it, but sometimes the best solution for him really is to just. Sit and cry it out, or seethe, or ride out the panic attack. Whatever it is.

Sitting in the warm sunshine, the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, and the sight of flower pedals floating in the air fill him with deep, somber nostalgia for comfortably sitting and chatting with Chayanne & Lullah. Watching sunsets too. This is one of few times he'll actually do something to the effect of the previous hc and just let himself sit and Feel. He just can't do it alone, he needs the Murder to sit with him & chat.

Some things he'll do when he actually let's himself sit somewhere & vibe: chat with the Murder, fish, sketch something he sees (often Dorothy), organize his inventory (rarely).

Nowadays he also sketches things of Chayanne & Lullah, sometimes Missa, occasionally Techno. He also really likes doodling random emblems and sigils, often meant for the gods (minus EK) or Techno.

Btw he still gets paranoid about resource gathering, inventory management, and collecting cool stuff ever since his possession. :) Even now that he's back in the Hardcore world, where it's ironically more unlikely that Ender King can/will hurt him, he gets anxious about over-indulging his crow brain.

He's not ALWAYS treating the Murder like it's on sight. Sometimes he'll sit and preen their feathers (or his own while they do their own), he has a massive feeder full of any treat a crow would find yummy imaginable, and half the time they go on those walks/flights he should take to de-stress more often, it's for them because they're the little shits that love to travel so much. He's an explorer and historian/archivist, sure, but he tends to stick to the structures of the gods that he's discovered.

Which btw calling back to that Deep Dark Deity, if they end up existing in canon (and if not, this will be canon for my AU or whatever), he hasn't met/discovered them or their structures yet bc he's too cautious to explore the Deep Dark thoroughly. :)

Honestly this feels like a low-hanging fruit hc that I'm sure tons of people have, but Phil desperately wants to bring Missa to the Hardcore world some day to show him the builds and teach him about the gods.

When he got back to the Hardcore world after QSMP, he took some time to recover emotionally and then anxiously visited Endlantis to add some,, security to the cave Ender King's corpse is sealed in. Will it work? Probably not. But it makes him feel safer.

He has a journal/scrapbook type thing documenting everything he sees & learns about the deities and their associates (ex: He & She). He wishes he could've brought it with him to Quesadilla Island so he could've taught Chayanne & Lullah more about them in detail. But they're somewhere in the world with him now, so he's sure they've learned more over the last 4 months. :)