#delicious. scrumptious. decadent

[mekatrio]

AHHHHAGJWHAJAJAAA

[pondslime]

still INCOHERENT over this  

hoisting it up like the pope during communion holding up a eucharist wafer 

Looking back, I should've been on my knees

RATED E! 6k Words. Father Paul x Fem Reader sort of? Or hallucination of "God?" Umm Father Paul x Faceless third person entity he's fantasizing about. Solo masturbation.

TW for mental instability, delusional behavior and blood drinking. Dude's jerking off with a corpse in the room. Full list of tags on ao3 Y/N device is not used in this fic.

Tags of note under the cut

Tags of note: Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Sacrilege, Guilt, Horny Delirium, Masturbation as a form of worship/prayer.

Salt dry, ocean wind glides through the empty church with a prayer on its breath. The litany is hollow, the words are rehearsed. Maybe the sentiment is echoed from this morning as if the word of god traveled out to sea but the wind pushed it back to the church… or maybe it’s something the ocean came up with all on its own.

Besides such empty delivery, the air is alive with the wind’s echoed praise.

The Monsignor knows the words, they've become a part of him over the years; and after a handful of new developments, he’s begun to associate taste with memory and comprehension. The world is bright and it flares brighter as the wind settles against worn pews to flutter ragged hymnals barely holding onto their cracked spines. With the wind’s closing Amen, it parts way for an older presence that begins to make its way through the church.

It ambles along slowly, taking its time to spread throughout every board and nail. Its sense of divinity turns chipped paint into a hallowed thing. Father Pruitt can feel His proximity before his attention directs toward himself.

In his office, oxygen seems to pull into itself until it cuts out entirely. His nearness is welcomed but the old building seems unable to compensate for the reverence it wants to give. Father Pruitt respectfully drops to his knees and angles toward the emanating warmth. He tilts his head up and his hands come together, tied together by hopeful adoration. Each inhale burns from the lack of oxygen in the room but faith comes with ache. Pain is an essential component of life, a blessing disguised as penance. Iron coats his tongue, it’s long since become paste at the corners of his lips. Somewhere beyond himself, he’s aware that someone lays still behind him, it’s only been a few moments since they took their last breath. They still linger, waiting and Father Pruitt is honored to be here for their transition. God wouldn't leave the faithful cold. He arrived with something incomprehensible, something winged and beautiful.

The Monsignor’s vestments are heavy at the edges, weighed down by bloodied sacrament. The Lord himself told Father Pruitt that he was ready to greet one of his chosen and thus he enacted His will. Their atonement was burdened thick with tar but he freed them of such weight. He consumed their guilt, drank their regret… and now, one of his flock walks without sin alongside God and his son. There’s salt rimming his eyes and his lashes soak up unfallen tears. A rod of iron expands in his throat and like in revelation, he will wield the scepter to show the world the power of an almighty god.

Some of his strength lingers here, it curls around his collar, reminding him of his place. The touch isn’t ungentle but it further steals his breath. He’s done well. The Lord rewards him with sparks of twinkling gold that erupts behind his eyes. The blood he swallowed meets his own and he’s made stronger for it, God’s light reaches inside of him and his body is made clean in his shadow. As a servant of God, he fights the pleasure that comes with subservience. The only pleasure he should want should come from devotion alone. This closeness, this sense of love, this is his reward. The Lord assigned him an angel to rescue him from the stray path he previously wandered and since then he’s been blessed with clarity.

Reborn and given purpose, Father Pruitt has never felt so alive. He has never felt so close. A lifetime of prayers left unanswered and now his God shares this very room. Spidery doubt and hidden cowardice were burned out of him when the Angel showed him His glory. He remembers laying on the ground, feeling dirt in his lungs. God was far from him then. Sure that he was to die, the Monsignor came close to renouncing all that he knew… and then the Angel cauterized his wound before it could fester.

With his head full of twisted, rambling thoughts and an old man’s regret, Father Pruitt wasn’t aware of how much of his light was lost to blind faith until the Angel taught him how to see. He stood on two legs out of reflex and memory. Much of this form of faith is cemented in ritual and Father Pruitt had long since forgotten who the ritual was for. He’d forgotten whose halls he was sheltered by. God was an abstract thing to the old man. God was made real by hope alone.

He was wrong of course. God is as real as he is. He’s here in this room and his presence expands into the Monsignor. It’s… exhausting, but too holy, too pure to look away from. His love is vast and unending and the Father will take the pain that comes with it because God has faith in him to endure.

“Feed.” The presence insists, looking down at him with grace.

In half a breath, Father Pruitt becomes a flurry of movement. Robes flutter heavily and his fingernails scrape against the wooden floor as he frantically scoops darkened blood into his hands. He licks his palms and messily sucks his fingers into his mouth but it’s not enough. His nose crushes against the ground and behind the taste of iron and God's watchful gaze is the bitter taste of dirt and earth.

On his knees, he drags himself through the rust and clumsily reaches for the lamb’s cold wrist. They’re not yet stiff, and he punctures their flesh with a garbled thanks. He didn’t dare to further mutilate one of God’s children without His approval. The flesh is satisfyingly weighty between his teeth, it promises nourishment but the Lord has not yet instructed him to bite and swallow. The lamb’s blood is too bitter, too coagulated in their veins. It’s gummy in his mouth and his throat protests swallowing. He nearly gags in discomfort and his tongue trembles as it drags over one of the lamb’s wounds, a weak hint of fresh blood keeps him from disobeying God’s insistence. Father Pruitt groans against their flesh, unsatisfied but aware. He is to taste his sin. He is to give his thanks and understand that sacrifice is necessary and never asked for lightly.

Shame is held at an arm’s distance only because of the presence in the room. He’s alive with purpose, able-bodied, and here to enact greatness. He’s sound of mind and his thoughts no longer weave around and through each other until he’s unsure of where he started. The Lord’s angel faithfully tells him God’s will, and he’s never felt so loved. It took a lifetime, but his prayers were heard. God showed himself and recalling the memory is too much to comprehend.

With his pupils blown wide and his mind buried in thanks, his body distances itself from his waking thoughts. His flesh awakes under the watchful eye of God, reminding him that despite his sensitivity toward the divine, he is still only a man. Blessedly mortal as any other. Time is an unforgiving concept. He’s spent so long unaware of how far he’d fallen. He’s a shepherd once more and his little church is attuned to so much beyond its old walls. His blood thrums with promise, the true word of god was made clear to him and he smears his index finger through the blood beneath him, smiling in awe to the above as he makes a cross over his heart. Pledging himself again and again.

Father Pruitt’s head bows and he recites the lord's prayer as a reflex. The shape of the words is branded into his very being, they slot into worn groves beneath his skin. He uses them to center himself toward a place of rest and the word Amen lingers in the air, made alive by the promise in his prayer. His hands separate from each other and he reaches to squeeze his throat. He swallows dryly, shaken by everything he just felt. He uses his wrist to wipe his mouth but all he does is smear blood across his cheek.

Coherence is blessedly kept out of reach as if the Lord wants him to take a moment just to feel. With a slow exhale, he listens to his alarmingly rapid heartbeat. His back hurts but only because he woke in a wound up ball of contorted limbs. Old ache ghosts over his limbs but it's phantom pain. For years, he became so used to suffering that now he finds it difficult to focus on anything besides the pain he once used to keep his head on straight.

Something itchy and raw wakes in his chest. Without the presence of divinity and the lead weight it blankets him with, he’s left to venerate the hunger that’s newly lodged within him. Without God’s presence, he is left wanting, left waiting for His next command. It’s not a burden, if anything it’s a reminder of his second chance with this all. Still, idle hands are twitchy and his emotions slip and slide all over the place while he’s too nervous to shelve them back to where they belong. He’s kept on edge, eager to serve but frustrated that sometimes it takes time for His will to flourish.

It’s difficult to keep everything contained. He feels so much bigger than his body. He wants to show everyone the same light he saw. If everyone could just open their eyes, they’d find salvation and love unending. He’s made progress with some of the wary, he’s welcomed new members to the church… but he could do this all so much faster. Now that he knows God's love directly, he’ll do anything for more. He doubts nothing, questions nothing. Today, the Lord sensed his dry throat, and then a new face knocked on his office door. He freed them of their burden as the Lord instructed and Father Pruitt was nourished by their sacrifice. He felt their soul as it loosened from their flesh… and he was too weak to find no pleasure in it. To consume someone’s faith and take it into your own is indescribable. Its sanctity is meant for God alone, but as his servant, he’s allowed just a taste… just a tiny mouthful of something honest.

To the Monsignor, it proves that he’s doing something right. Honesty is the first virtue that has any meaning to it. Without honesty, there’s no goodness, no belief, or love. The lamb was startled at first, they struggled as he held them down. The taste of fear and pain burst across his tongue with his first bite but it was cleansed immediately with the incoming rush of delirium and then the closing sermon of bright, biting joy. Release. Weightlessness. After a lifetime of blind devotion, being able to taste the concept has Father Pruitt near feral for another hit. The mouth is a sacred part of one’s self, we use it to take communion and to speak with god. We consume his son’s blood and flesh. We are made sentimental creatures for the inherent desire to consume something beloved. Love twists into a set of teeth just as we shape words into worship with our tongues.

Regarding faith, Father Pruitt has never aligned with the idea that we as people are put onto this earth to suffer. He thinks perhaps that the pleasure he finds in servitude to God is something for him alone. It’s a sign that he’s using His gift for good. The body in the room isn’t pretty but God still came for them. His tongue still salivates, he wishes that he took things slower but he didn’t want the sacrifice to suffer. Their blood was complex, when he swallowed it trailed down his throat with legs like fine wine. He could’ve fed on them for hours, taking the time to pick apart the individual components of personality that flavored them in such a way… but he was a man of god. A man of faith. He wouldn’t take what wasn’t offered. The lamb deserved something quick in exchange for their sacrifice that God so wanted.

God asks us to listen. God asks us to obey and follow in his footsteps. He gave the world his son so the faithful could understand we can only do so much in our earthly vessels. We can love one another, and do good as we are able to— God only asks for what we are able to give. We aren't given bodies to be ashamed of them and push them past their mortal capabilities. God made man in his image, he did not give us the ability to think and feel as a punishment. What we do with our bodies is another thing entirely.

As to answer his thoughts, one of the Monsignor’s twitching hands finds his belt after awkwardly runching up his robes. This isn’t sin. This is worship. God gave him this body with all of its functions and he was awarded a glimpse of all that is good for a reason. His mind translates enlightenment in the only way he can understand. It turns something holy, something sacred into sensation rather than comprehension. Sin is not one thing or the other. It’s a fluid concept. The church is old and lost in its ways just like he was not so long ago.

Perhaps he’s a heretic, and such thoughts might've once sequestered him into a panicked, praying stupor… but he’s promised his very soul in exchange for the truth. No such heresy comes from worship. No such shame should come from pleasure found in servitude. Uneasy but determined, Father Pruitt decides that his faith has yet to wrong him. Wouldn’t he be distrusting God by questioning the morality of the way his body reacts to His word?

The noise of his belt buckle clinking against itself cuts through the heavy silence in the room. Some spell laid over him lifts with a promise to return and Father Pruitt thanks it for its mercy. He’s airy now, eager to offer himself in this way. This may as well be liturgical practice, this is… right. This is physical devotion and the same as self-appointed lashing or any other physical offering. Father Pruitt’s breaths are slow but heavy, he swallows dryly, and as soon as he’s fumbled his zipper somewhat undone, he shoves a blood-sticky, prayer-warmed hand into his waistband with a haggard breath of thanks. His cock is half hard, twitching to life and he can feel its pulse more than he’s attuned to his heartbeat. The first graze of touch has him gnashing his teeth.

At the edge of coherence, he’s aware that the blood is staining not just his soul. His vestment robes are soaked through, he’s yet to perfect the ritual but he’s sure that he’ll eventually get the hang of it. Blood has since streaked across the floor. Some drips steadily from the pool atop his desk and Father Pruitt resists cleaning the mess with his tongue. Kneeling in the worst of it, he’s sure that soaked denim is soon to cut into his skin. His hand was far from clean but he didn’t think twice about wrapping it around his cock. It swells as if to meet the blood on his hand and it only takes a few shy strokes until he’s fully hard, each awkward pump of his fist has his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. He’s unpracticed, unsure of what he likes, and in a lifetime before, he was beleaguered with too much shame to ever think of doing something like this.

A chuckle leaves him while he ponders whether or not someone a few hundred years ago assumed people would spend all day touching themselves if such pleasure wasn’t branded as a sin. Something so effortlessly taken, so effortlessly given could easily become wrong if one was to lose themself in unearned pleasure. But his body is a vessel of the Lord’s, he is nothing but a servant. He acts only by his Lord’s will. Even now, he mumbles thanks and prayer while his hand rapidly follows his words. Although they are patched together gracelessly, the sentiment is there. Father Pruitt hunches over, gulping down a breath as he works his cock with frantic, overeager strokes.

He thanks God for his grace, thanks God for his mercy. He asks that God may bring peace to those in need. He asks God for his congregation’s health and happiness.

So much of what he once knew as truth is now muddled with new realities. Stubbornly, he wonders if this is wrong. His hand slows and he forces himself to a stop even as his needy prick throbs with angry discomfort. He shouldn’t want anything besides what’s best for his flock, he shouldn’t feel so high-strung and on edge. Shouldn't this feel like worship? He wonders if he should feel calm, he wonders if he should slow down and perhaps acclimate to the sensation so he’s not panting like a dog… but all he can do is think of the first gush of wet blood that spilled into his mouth. Recalling the first swallow and the way the blood immediately awoke all of his senses to new heights forces a whimper from his throat and it clings to his bottom lip, making it tremble.

He decides that the same pleasure found in servitude to God is no different from the consuming want that emanates through him now. Father Pruitt sucks in a wet sounding breath and he shifts on his knees so he can better angle his hips. He fucks into his fist and the room balances on the closing note of a song. It hums with the same low note that lingers in the aftermath of an Amen. This is not selfish. This is not wrong. This is for Him. The Lord wants him to understand his miracle, this body is a gift… it is meant to be cherished.

The original sin was a gift. God allowed his first creations to ask questions, he made Eve a curious soul because she was a needed balance to Adam’s instinct to listen and obey.

Men were created to listen. Men were created to serve. Even with free will, Adam still chose to submit.

Everything is new and wonderful. Behind closed eyes, Father Pruitt sees only stars. An involuntary shudder builds in his ribcage and it escapes down his spine to find uneasy purchase atop his nerves. His hips cant upward, chasing his retreating fist and by now his breath has turned ragged, and his limbs feel loosely tacked on.

Buried memories awaken amongst the rapture and the crumbling relics speak long lost invocations in the language of heaven. He can’t understand them, but to hear something so ancient and otherworldly brings new wetness to his eyes. Like this he’s only a vessel of worship, he cannot speak or think clearly, he’s mindless and obedient to pleasure, seeking more to honor his Almighty. Mindlessly pumping his fist, Father Pruitt looks up and groans a pitched whimper.

“Yes, God.” He thinks. “I am yours, I am yours.”

His tongue feels oily, it can’t find its place in his mouth. He wants to give his thanks but the noise that pushes past his teeth is tangled up in its afterbirth and it struggles to make itself known. His soul swells with love, he’s made pure by this bloodied baptism. He understands it now. This hunger. He’s a newborn babe, brought screaming into the world. A lifetime of devotion made him pure once again. He’s without sin. He should be without guilt. Unashamed, Father Pruitt easily falls headfirst into a memory that he once kept secret from the lord. The memory is wet and tight, his breaths are shared with another’s and her lips feel so right against his.

Maybe this love wasn’t his to take, but he’s never regretted it. He’s never regretted her. Even now, the memory is only a wisp of what once was, but being able to recall anything of it is more than he could wish for. His knuckles scrape against denim and his movements pick up speed. Caught in a mess of prayer and thanks, the Monsignor hiccups while half swallowing a moan.

The presence inside of him blends the memory of her with the tinge of iron and fear. He remembers being so afraid of what he’d done, but not afraid enough to stop. She was everything in that instance of broken resolve. She was the universe itself. She was God and all things holy. She trembled around him, crying out to God and he selfishly commanded her to say his name instead. The command was strong only because it was backed by regret. He knew that this was unforgivable, he knew that no penance or no amount of hail Mary’s could amount to the weight of what he’d already done.

You cannot commit half a sin.

Close as they were, he wished to be closer. He wanted to shed her of her modesty and hide beneath her skin. He wanted to take her flesh for his own, anoint it in oils and make her holy so he had some excuse for the way he felt. He wanted to become some permanent piece of her because he was unable to rid himself of his devotion to God. She’d never push his faith, she would never have been able to claim him as he claimed her and the unfair trade burned him like a hot iron. Couldn’t he offer her just a piece of himself? After years of unshaken faith, couldn’t he give her something worth keeping? As the church is one with the body of Christ, partaking in his flesh and blood —couldn’t he offer her some minuscule, unimportant piece of himself?

From that first sin and all the subsequent moments of stolen love, John —Not the priest. Not Father Pruitt, Not God’s devoted parishioner—, wanted to see her soul. He wanted to see the thing he’d given everything for.

He found love in a sense of shame. He had no right to fuck his guilt into a woman chosen for him by God. He should’ve listened. His love was a desperate, aborted thing. Barely alive and stolen from his Lord, he gave handfuls of both to each party when neither wanted anything to do with his sickly worship.

You cannot worship out of fear. You cannot form shame into love.

Christened again, he understands with an old man’s regret that it’s natural to be afraid. He was blind to the gift he was given back then, he rejected a woman who loved him and rejected the God he so loved because of self-appointed shame. He lived the rest of his life a broken old fool, but he’s seen the light now. He can lead his congregation to salvation, just like the Angel who gave him a second chance at life. He’ll take their burden. He’ll take their guilt and their shame. He can handle it. Even now, there’s an ache inside of him that demands it. Even now, he’s hungry.

Rather than recoil, he chases the feeling. Acceptance is all it wants. It wants to be heard. It wants to be known.

This want, this hunger— It’s all part of His plan.

In shameful instances of the past, there were moments of resentment. God blessed him not only with forgiveness but also with the inability to harbor the concept of resentment any longer. He’s never known a love so unending. He’s never known something so bright, so vast. He feels it in his veins, the blood circulating through him is the same as liquid gold.

Faith tells him when to sleep and what to dream. It forces his lips as he speaks his sermons. Inside of him is something ancient and divine and he is so honored to hold such privilege. He doesn’t mind the ache of constant hunger. God tells him to consume mortal sin and feel it burn as it goes down his throat. It won’t corrupt him. His conviction is imbued into his bones, into his soul. When he is hungry, the Lord will provide. The sky is cracked open and he can see everything there ever was. It’s simple in its complexity. Everything is one centered breath, time itself exists in the span of a single heartbeat.

We exist out of love. God sees us wholly and without sin. He sees the perfect version of who we are meant to be because we came out of His imperfection. In the end, we are memory and devotion in its purest form. To love and be loved is our only purpose in life and Father Pruitt has been afraid for so long that he held a finite source. He held an unfair reserve over his heart, offering only part of himself to the woman he loved and the Lord who blessed him with such a feeling.

Containing multitudes, he understands that God wants him whole. He’s not a fractured mess of a man who once was. The air around him is perfectly, succinctly still. Each exhale feels almost rude. The room is severe, he looks up and waits for a sign. He wants to beg for direction.

“Please,” he begs the empty air and his voice weakens upon the crest of a gasp. He swallows and manages a firmer plea, but the air remains still. Looking up doesn’t seem to offer him anything, so Father Pruitt shuts his eyes. His hand acts on its own accord and his fist loosely settles around his stubbornly devoted cock. Blood lingers on his taste buds though he’s sure that the taste is long gone. He wonders if it’s a reminder or if it’s a promise of more.

In his mind, real as anything else— his hand slowly skims up someone’s bare calf. His touch is reverent, his head is bowed. He wants to look up at her, but he doesn’t need to look to know who she is. He hasn’t seen her face as it was in so long. His eyes are adjusted to the dark and looking up seems wrong, she didn’t ask him to look. He has a duty to perform, he can’t blind himself now. She’s naked in all of her glory and the universe narrows down until all he can see is her parting legs.

He waits for no direction, with her spread like an offering he understands his place. He is to bow before her holiness and he is to worship as God commands him to. This isn’t a test, this isn’t a cruel memory. He can smell her blood as it circulates beneath her skin. She’s real and she’s here. She reaches between her thighs to spread her lips— showing him everything he never deserved— and he stumbles forward to bury his tongue in her folds.

Unsure if she’s an embodiment of the Lord, one of his angels, or one of his memories given life once more… The Monsignor decides that they’re all the same. He decides he doesn’t care and he’ll take what he is given. His head is bowed as if in prayer, one hand holds her calf while the other words his cock. His tongue strokes through her folds and she’s decadent. She’s his as he is the Lord’s. Her skin is so soft in his hands, she’s otherworldly and the world itself. He has no purpose but to serve, to taste, and feed. God asks so little of his children. He gives and he gives and the Father is fed and loved for it. He could stay here forever, he could kneel and rot to nothing happily like this.

Was this… a reward? Was this God’s favor? He struggles for an answer but the closer he gets to the truth, the further he strays from the task at hand.

“Stay with me.” She commands, voice soft but words piercing. Fingers tighten in his hair and his previous curiosity mutates into his instinct to serve. She’s given him so much and the worship she asks for is so easy to give. So close to divinity, he’s barely able to breathe while refusing to part from her body. Devoted to his worship, his nose slots beside her clit as he curls his tongue between her lips. He’s so full of love but she urges him to take another mouthful.

Her pleasure drips wetly down his chin. Wet and warm like blood. Sweeter though. There’s no struggle, no initial fear. She tastes of heaven itself and Father Pruitt holds her hips still, tracing his thanks with his tongue as she writhes against his assault. She twists on her altar, back contorting as he sucks on her clit and Father Pruitt wonders if she’s to be prayed to or to be prayed for. She’s all movement, difficult to hold onto, and difficult to comprehend.

His cock leaks into his palm and each pump of his fist is slick. He is only a parishioner right now, his throat is bare, clerical collar forgotten somewhere beyond this place. The sin of his making whispers that he wants more. Behind the curtain of humility and faith… he wants to bury himself inside of her so deeply that her body will mold to his. He wants to lay her before God himself so as to show his Lord what devotion he’s willing to give. He wants no separation between their bodies, he wants no separation from his Lord. If God would give him this for just an instance, he would linger on this earth for the rest of eternity guiding all who wander toward the Almighty's light. He’d be kept alive only by the memory of something perfect.

The Angel who commands his heart promises that he is worthy of such love. He’s submitted, he’s given everything he is and more. He could take what he wants, nothing would punish him for it. Her pussy drips that much wetter, she grinds against his face, begging so sweetly. She only wants his worship, she already owns his soul…

Abruptly, she comes apart, unravels beneath his tongue and Father Pruitt groans along with her. He pulls away from her cunt only to look at what she’s become. This gift is his strength. This gift is his weapon. Take His body and drink His blood. This gift is the broken love he once gave to her and his Lord and it is returned to him in abundance, kept fat and happy by God who thrums with awareness beneath his skin. The ache of being begins to burn. Father Pruitt hisses behind his teeth as a ray of sunlight streaks across his back from a high window.

It ties him to his body and he’s thankful for the pain. He would’ve stayed wherever he was, licking her cunt for all of eternity if not for the earthly reminder of his flesh. Clarity pulls him from the depth of worship and he’s not allowed a moment to mourn the loss of his vision. She retreats with grace, her footsteps fade toward the sacred place she calls home inside of him. He’s taken his fill. He’s served righteously and he won’t ask for more. A younger version of him might’ve begged, but Father Pruitt knows better than to question God’s will. The Lord washed his palette clean.

The church’s next service will serve his blessed blood as communion and they will be made stronger because of his worship.

This is His will.

“You’ve done well, Father.” God’s voice is feminine and kept soft.

Father Pruitt takes her praise with all the grace he can summon. He wants to snatch it from the air and stuff it down his throat, he wants to bury his face in it and fuck it into a wet mess. All he’s ever wanted to be is worthy. All he’s ever wanted to be was seen.

An ethereal touch forces his eyes open. She crooks her finger beneath his chin as if to lift his gaze toward her unseen face and ghostly fingers settle on the side of his face. She’s so real. He can sense her somewhere. Whoever she is, a memory or some asset of God…he doesn’t care. Her touch is so soft, so divine, and otherworldly that it pulls an unbridled moan from his chest. Burdened by earthly gravity, it spills to the floor like incense smoke, curling at the edges and cleansing the curdled and blackened mess he kneels in.

His soul was never his to begin with. She doesn’t ask him for worship, nor does she ask him for bloody sacrifice. Her guidance is freely given, so gently laid that he feels as if he’s shrouded by sheer feathers. Her form isn’t here, not in this room in a physical sense, and yet somehow she is. She’s with him. Inside of him. A part of him. His belief has never been based on physical senses and he’s lived long enough to know that there is so much more beyond what he can see. He can almost hear the musical tone of her laughter, of her happiness found in his belief. Her wings constrict, holding him close and shielding him from the world. She asks him to let go. She asks him to breathe. Fingers tighten at his throat, and he’s reminded of who he breathes for.

He is owned as he is loved.

The sense of ownership builds until it finds the ends of his mortal body. It stretches thin after that, pulling beyond until it has nowhere else to go. The whisper comes again and she tells him to let go. He doesn’t need to hold on so tight. Wherever he begins and ends doesn’t matter to her. Father Pruitt inches toward embarrassment, feeling stupid for worrying over such a concept for so long and the presence only holds him closer in response.

There’s no slamming edge to his orgasm, the presence he feels it’s expansive and somewhere beyond himself. Torn from his body, he’s unaware of the pitched moans he whines into his empty office, he’s unaware of the way he bites the side of his thumb to keep quiet. His cock surges and holy light fills him up from the inside as thick white dribble arcs against the inside of his robes. He lurches forward and he’s forced to catch himself with his free hand. Startled, he yelps when his palm slaps against slimy wet sludge. The texture is so similar to his cum that he recoils, he’s pulled back into his body with an abrupt shove and Father Pruitt nearly falls face forward once again with the sudden shock of coherence.

With wild eyes, he whips his head around, looking for her even though he can feel the emptiness of her unsaid goodbye. The air in his lungs is too thin, his heart is too fast. His dick feels rubbed raw and he wipes his palms on his thighs, groaning with discomfort as he puts himself back together.

John can still feel her on his skin. He can taste her on his tongue. He knows exactly where her presence left and he accepts her loss just like any other day. She’s needed elsewhere and he knows to let her go. Others are in need, others love her just as he does.

His mind and body are that of his Lord’s and he has work to do. With an awkward stretch, Father Paul manages to force his legs into working order and he stands with pins and needles swarming his calves and feet. His back aches, and he leans backward in an attempt to pop a stiff joint. His eyes meet the still gaze of the vacant body pushed into a corner and he sees no recognition upon their face. They’re beyond him now. With her. With God and his angels. Safe in transport toward the kingdom of heaven. He wonders if they saw her too, he wonders if they felt just a smidgen of what he felt beneath her touch.

Did they see her face? Did she smile as she held them in her arms to absolve them of sin?

Gently, he removes his vestment robes, and as respectfully as possible, he covers the body as if swaddling an infant. He closes their eyes with an accompanying prayer. He tells them that they’re beautiful, he tells them that they’re loved. He prays for God to soon wash their soul clean so that they may leave this world holy and pure as Mary’s blessed son.

Father Paul doesn’t tell them that their blood was sweet with sin. He doesn’t tell them that he no longer can tell the difference between all that is Holy and that he’s beginning to rethink the reality of heaven.

Thanks for reading! Woof this dude is going through it.

I wanted to write something "Short" for my boo @ventiswampwater but idk how to write short i guess haha.

Let me know your thoughts!!

[dark-and-kawaii]

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Slob On His Knob ] ✧˚₊‧

Summary: Imagine giving Rolan the sloppiest head he’s ever had- his meaty girth stretching your throat so nicely at Last Light Inn. That’s it, that’s the summary ♡ ♡ ♡

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Pairing: ‎Rolan x F!Tav/Reader

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Content: NSFW - Slobbing On Juicy Thick Cock - Public Oral - Tiefling Cock - Choking On Fat Cock - Tail Choking Wrapped Around Your Pretty Throat - Throat Bulge

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Notes: Enjoy xoxo

He struggles to cover his face- to conceal those infernal cheeks of his that blaze hotter than his own flesh. And his knees, oh how they quiver as you sit between them. Your head bobbing up down on that cock you love so much with a velocity he never imagined you possessed…

Rolan’s tail twitches, his hips arching upwards as he becomes overstimulated, succumbing to the intense pleasure you’ve been granting him. With a firm grip, his large hand tangles in your tresses, his hips lifting off the chair, his knees quivering as he struggles to remain upright… But…

He manages to keep his noises in check, stifling his groans by the sharp pain of his sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip… drawing forth a small bead of blood… A sinful, delicious moan threatens to escape his throat each time his cock hits the back of your throat, sending a thrilling shiver down your very spine. He’s so adorable trying to keep himself in check.

His tail coils around your delicate throat, and he can feel the way it bulges from his cock, how your throat stretches around him to accommodate such a large object… Rolan contemplates your limits, the thought of you losing consciousness from this all causes his tail constrict around you tighter… Pushing his member deeper into your slick, tight throat hole.

In this moment, you exist solely for his pleasure, right? It was you who walked up to asking how you could make him less grouchy… it was you who slowly sank to your knees and sprung his cock free… in this moment you were a vessel, a toy for him to release all his anger and frustrations. And as a token of his appreciation, he would fill your belly with his hot sticky seed…

A shudder runs down his spine as the table maid’s worried gaze meets his half lidded ones, “A-are you alright sir?”… She looks so concerned the poor thing, she has no idea what’s actually happening and that there is no need for concern here…

With great effort, Rolan manages to nod, his half smile strained, “l-leave me, pleas-hah-!!!” As soon as your tongue flicks against his pee hole he bangs his free hand against the bar, “I- I assure you- I’m fine..!” He breathes out.

The moment she turns her back, Rolan has you deepthroat his entire length, holding your head there until you choke, until gag around his fat cock and massage it nicely with your little throat hole. Gripping the edge of the table, an involuntary moan escapes his throat as he comes undone, spilling himself into you- feeding you his seed until your tummy is pleasantly full.

Thick, milky ropes of spunk shoot directly down your throat, filling your mouth to the brim. Your cheeks swell, struggling to swallow his large load as it slides down your throat… His scrumptious cock pulsing with every new burst of his sweet, delectable cum, and you can feel the heat spread across your tongue. The first drop finds its way to your belly, followed by the next and the next, each one a decadent delight.

It's all over before you know it, and once Rolan finishes, he pulls his cock from your eager mouth, granting you sweet oxygen once more...

You moan softly, gasping for air as his cum dribbles from the corner of your swollen lips. Your body trembling, the lingering taste of his cum still heavy on your tongue. He swiftly tucks his cock away, adjusting his trousers and robe before reaching into his pocket. With a cocky grin, he pulls out two gold coins, dropping them on the table with a satisfying clink. Without a word, he stands up… leaving you a mess on the floor, aching for more.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

birthday blues

read here or on ao3

“—And I’m telling you that Lord Artemis Sterling is not only a personal family friend, but I am one of the literal saviors of the universe. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah from the song. No, that’s my sister. “ Taako pulls the stone away from his face and groans. He rolls his eyes at Lup. “I’m being incredibly brave right now,” he says, covering the stone with his hand. 

Lup closes the book she was attempting to read and tosses it aside on the couch. She strides over to the stool Taako has taken to slumping on whilst trying this verbal sparring match and pats him on the shoulder as a glowing support of solidarity. Spying a patch of red hair on the back deck, she steps out of the almost too cold house and into the midsummer heat. 

She finds Davenport in the midst of what appears to be a game of solitaire.

“Mind if I hide out here with you?” she asks. Technically more of a formality, she supposes, given that she lives here. But Davenport’s been withdrawn into himself lately. Feels impolite to just drop in on him. 

His back is to the door, though he nods at an empty deck chair. “You don't need to ask permission to sit on your deck, you know.” His eyes stay on the cards, seeing some kind of pattern in the haphazard array. 

She shrugs, dropping into the seat across from him. The two sit in silence for a bit, the only noise coming from Davenport’s shuffling around of card piles. 

“What's he even doing? He's been at it all morning. I could only take so much of hearing his end of the conversation over my coffee before I came out here.” Davenport condenses a few piles down into even fewer piles. 

Lup pulls her knees to her chest, picking at the small hole in the knee of her pants. “He's planning this massive birthday party for us. Says that since this is our first together in a decade, it should be some kind of rager.”

Davenport exhales a laugh. “I remember when you and Taako insisted on celebrating your entire birth month during more than a few cycles.” 

“And you just went along with it!”

He picks his eyes up from the cards and smiles, “I'm highly motivated by cake, you know this! Shit, I still think about that delicious lemon and blueberry cake that Lu—” He stops himself, almost like he's been electrocuted. 

“‘The two of you shouldn't have to make your own birthday cake,’” Lup says, a near exact mimic of Lucretia’s tone. It really was a scrumptious cake, too. Ugly as sin, but only Taako had the heart to tell her so. Everyone else just wanted to spare her feelings. 

“Do you hate her?” Lup isn’t sure where this bluntness came from. Now isn’t the time. It’s never the time. 

“Do you?” Davenport’s head snaps up abruptly. 

“No,” She says immediately. After a few seconds, she amends her statement. “Yes. It’s…it’s not that easy. I asked you first.” 

He brings the cards back together to form a single deck and begins shuffling with the same automatic ease and speed that amazed Lup a hundred years ago. “I have so much anger inside of me, Lup. So much that it scares me. And this isn’t new, to be clear. Before I was in the IPRE, I got into my fair share of tavern brawls. I fought over stupid shit just to maybe get that anger out of me. It didn’t work.” He shakes his head as he makes a bridge with the cards. “It worked for a little bit. When we first started training for the mission, I felt so much joy, so much pride in our team that I thought it was going to split me open. And then we got the shit kicked out of us over and over again. I knew it was making me angry, but being struck down for wrath really put it in perspective for me. But knowing that we finally won and finally got to rest did a lot of good for me.” He begins dealing out another game. “And then she took it away. She took away everything that we worked for because she was a child who didn’t know how to deal with being told no. So I think maybe we’ve earned hating her.” He bites at the inside of his cheek and looks into the middle distance. 

Lup knows this expression well. After everything, talking too much became a bit more of a struggle for Davenport. He carries it well, all things considered. But she’s sure that’s just another tally against Lucretia. And it should be. 

“I spent a lot of time being angry in the staff. Most of my time in there, actually. Mostly at myself. And at the Hunger. And at all of you for not finding me. And at Lucretia, when I realized why none of you found me.” Errant pant threads get ripped off and dropped on the table. “I had thought that I’d done a lot of working through this shit in there. But then I got out and I really wanted to just fireball us all to the Nine Hells and back. Burn it all down so these poor bastards could start over without us. That wouldn’t have done shit though. So I got a job and I have this house with my brother and my husband and Kravitz and an obscene number of cats and I do my best to keep the peace between everyone because it can’t just be Magnus or Merle doing it but someone has to do it because we didn’t go through the meat grinder for 100 years for us to all hate her until she dies.” Lup runs her hands through her hair, tugging close to her scalp. “We fucking won and we’re just throwing away everything we fought for.”

“I don’t see the point in lying. She knows how I feel. How most of us feel.” 

“I’m not suggesting that you lie, Cap. I’m suggesting that you just consider finding a way that you can stand to be around her for a few hours. You don’t need to play pattycake and paint each other’s nails, but if you could not shoot daggers at her so she has reason to look like a kicked dog, I think it’d do us all some good.” 

“Right, gotta make sure everyone’s on their best behavior for this big birthday bash,” Davenport says flippantly. 

Lup smacks the table with an open palm, causing some of “I couldn’t care less about this stupid fucking party I want no part of!” A few birds in the backyard fly away on the wind of her outburst. “Everyone keeps talking about how this is so beautiful, mine and Taako’s first birthday together in ten years and I just don’t care.  I don’t want everyone staring at me. People who heard the story so they think they know me. Telling me how inspiring they find me. Who fucking cares? I don’t want to be an inspiration, I just want peace and quiet. I want to sleep in and eat dessert for breakfast and breakfast for dinner and not leave the house.” She shakes her head and looks into the yard. “Besides, you really think Taako’s letting Creesh in the house? That’s blasphemy inside those four walls.”

Davenport is quiet for a while. For a moment, Lup’s sure he’s just up and vanished into the mist or whatever it is men of a certain age do. But there he sits, steadfast and contemplative. It strikes Lup in that moment how much grey has crept into his hair; the unassailable captain looks so tangible, so fragile to Lup for the first time. 

Through the glass door, Lup spies Taako watching the pair of them curiously; must have been a little louder than she thought. She puts a finger up to her lips and then nods at one of the empty chairs. Taako quietly pulls the door open and pads onto the deck. Davenport barely glances behind him before nodding.

“My family never made a huge deal out of birthdays. The money usually wasn’t there. And I kept that attitude. Just another day and all that. And then when we were on the mission, the years blended into each other. I liked that. Didn’t have to dodge’s Magnus’s terrible attempts at subtly to see if I wanted new slippers. Didn’t have to admonish Barry’s incredibly unsafe fireworks because he thought that spells just weren’t the same because you couldn’t smell the chemicals hanging in the air after. Didn’t have to excuse myself to cry at cards and watercolor paintings of places I’d never get to see again. Just another day. And then I had the single worst birthday of my life, worse than when Faust Ironwood dumped me during my seventeenth birthday party. That’s a very big unseating, I’ll have you know,” He says blithely. He doesn’t elaborate and he doesn’t need to. Everyone alive knows all about Davenport’s worst birthday, lucky guy. “When it was just her and me, even before she got the Bureau off the ground, she tried to make it some kind of positive day. Even through all of that,” he waves his hand around abstractly, “I couldn’t stand it. I think I poured orange juice in her shoes over it.” 

“Waste of good orange juice, especially that late in the season,” Lup says, the barest hint of a smile on her face. 

“Should’ve sprung for sand. That shit stays in shoes until the heat death of the universe, I’m pretty sure.” Taako says, folding into an empty chair.  He looks over at Davenport. “Is that why you were in the middle of the ocean on your birthday this year?” 

He shrugs. “Nobody can ambush me with a cake if I’m alone on a boat. ” 

“You underestimate us,” Lup says ominously. 

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m with you, Lup, I can’t face all these people expecting this perfect happiness from me. I can’t celebrate with anyone from the Bureau. They knew me as a mascot and as a butler and try as they might, they don’t know what to do with me. Anytime they try to be deferential, it skeeves me out. They don’t know me. They can’t. I really don’t want them to, for that matter. I don’t want to get close to anyone. I don’t need more friends. I can barely keep up with the ones I have. Last thing I need is people trying to figure out what I want. I’d get stuck with ties and you both know how much I fucking hate wearing ties.” 

“I get it. I haven’t done shit for our birthday in—” Taako squints in thought for a moment. “‘Bout a decade.” 

“You what?” Lup demands. 

Taako raises his eyebrows. “Lup, I never even told anyone my birthday. Not my real one, anyway. I just used the idea of a birthday to get free shit sometimes. Angus fucking sleuthed out my birthday once and I hated it,” he says, not entirely truthfully. He shakes his head. “It just. My birthday, at least how I remembered it, always felt like torture. Then I realized I didn’t have to do it. So I just stopped.” 

“Then why are we renting out the entire Sword Coast for our birthday this year?” Lup’s exasperated. Once a fucking gain, she’s the victim of miscommunication and it pisses her off. 

Taako searches her face for…something. He’s looking at her and it’s the same look he gave their grandpa when he told them the real story about the tooth faerie and about how the tooth fae ate through enamel of people lost in the Feywild while they slept. The look almost says “take it back, you can take this knife you buried in my chest back and I won’t even be mad at you I promise.” 

“Lup, I thought you wanted this. I mean, it’s been so long. You’re…you’re back. This is a triumph and we didn’t get to celebrate because we were worried about not letting the embodiment of apathy vore the plane.” 

She sighs. “I don’t need the whole world to throw me a parade. I have everyone I love back and all I want to do is make up for lost time.” 

Taako smiles, a little sheepish. “Guess I should call and apologize to Lord Artemis Sterling’s secretary.” 

Lup nods. “Might be a good use of your time.” 

Davenport bites at the skin around his thumbnail, an old habit reborn like some kind of gross zombie. Everyone has their vices and, he supposes, he could have worse ones. “How about dinner? Merle’s been begging to have everyone over, especially because Chesney’s is about to open. Maybe we can do a potluck?” 

“Who’d be there?” Lup asks cautiously. Taako glances between the two of them. 

“Everyone? Not everyone everyone, but the crew? Kravitz. Anyone else you both really want. It’ll be nice to have a family dinner. Almost like old times.” Davenport suggests. It feels like he ate fiberglass insulation, but the light that rushes back into Lup’s eyes is almost enough to make up for it. 

“Everyone.” Taako agrees, surprising himself. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying for a good lemon blueberry cake.” 

Lup grins. “Me too.” 

[georgiapeach30513]

Kinktober 2023, Day 4

The Spike In My Heart

Summary: You could smell him miles away. It was the sweetest scent you have ever breathed. It was addictive. It was a need. You needed this smell. And what you found was Cole….

Pairings: Cole Turner X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  vampires, stalking, chase kink, explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, licking, overstimulating, blood kink (?), creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Moodboard Even

The world stopped moving. Time stood still, and all sins had been erased the second that scent dug its hole into your brain.

Obsession. There was no better way to describe it. It wasn’t close to you, but one drop of that decadent blood had set your mouth on fire. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, while you guess the notes of their blood. Man. It was definitely male.

Delicate. Like a field of wildflowers. Bees that gather pollen to create scrumptious honey that makes your mouth water. You need that blood. Already, you are craving something that you hadn’t even tasted.

Masculine. Like a man bathing in a river. The water cascading down his chest, and creating its own waterfalls. Your tongue lapping up the trail until you see his neck pulsing with his life force. You want that.

Angelic. Like a feathery soft sweetness that tickles along your skin. Creating a trail of goosebumps with every inch it touches. Airy and romantic. You desire it.

Your body won’t stop moving until you find the creature that had the most delicious notes of flavor. Stalking through the shadows until you find the smell. A smell that will forever be ingrained in your body. Your soul. A smell that…

You stop at the edge of the forest, tilting your head to the side. Your fangs retreat, and you can’t deny that was him. Your body had two heartbeats as soon as you saw his face. The almost non-existent beat of your heart, and the hard pulse in your pussy. He was beautiful. You had to admit he wasn’t who you were expecting to see.

You had gone through different scenarios on how you could make this dinner last. Had decided you were going to keep him locked up in the basement. But his cheeks sun kissed and red, deserved to be in the sun. The sun would be jealous if you ever took him away.

He is alone, which is more than you could hope because you needed a taste. But he was a bit skittish. Flinching at every little sound. It was adorable. You could chase him. You purposefully step on a branch, and the shovel he is holding drops to the ground, and he looks along the tree lines to find you. He wouldn’t see you unless you wanted him to.

His eyes hitting the light makes him that much more beautiful. He is precious. You want him. Want to protect him. Want to devour him. Even his trembling hand picking up the shovel makes you want to hold him.

Stepping on another fallen branch, he stands rigid scanning even harder, until you step in the light, “Run,” you whisper.

He might not hear it, but he understood. Dropping his shovel again, he races in the opposite direction of you. Predictable. You’d give the poor sap a head start. Sweet angel, even yelps. He smells so much better with his blood laced in fear and…that’s a new scent. He was in danger from something that wasn’t you.

It takes you seconds to catch up to him. His danger taking the fun in the chase away. His speed already slows down as he looks back at you in real fear. His pulse is off. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to taste you.”

“That doesn’t make me — feel — better,” he comes to a halt, placing his hands on his knees, “Is there like a — pause button in — this game?”

Deep staggering breaths have him choking before he reaches in his pocket. “It’s not — a gun. I just,” an inhaler. Oh he was a sweet one. He places the mechanism in his mouth, taking a deep puff, but his eyes never stray from you. “Vampires don’t exist.”

“We don’t?” Your fangs expand over your lips as you smile at him. “What makes you think we don’t?”

“So you’re gonna chase me then eat me until I’m dead?”

“Sweetheart,” his cheeks flush back to life as the pink expands over his skin. “I don’t eat people. I suck them.”

“You know, usually sucking sounds fun, but you mean my — and not my…”

“Oh, I could suck that as well if that’s what you required. You’re too sweet to kill. I want to savor you. Nothing has ever smelled sweeter than you.”

“I’m Cole,” Cole is too trusting. He goes quiet while he lets your words marinate in his brain. “Does it hurt?”

“Not if I don’t want it to. I promise there are ways to make you feel nothing but pleasure.”

“And…how — how is that?” You take both Cole and yourself to the ground, giving him a soft little peck to his lips. Your mouth trails across his jaw, giving him the tiniest nibble. And you drag the needle sharp edge of your fang along his skin. Cole arches and whimpers. Tilting his head to the side as he fully submits to you. Allowing you to see the throb of his pulse right on his neck. But it wasn’t the only part of him throbbing.

Sitting up suddenly, you allow yourself to straddle his body. Grinding over his pelvis with a cheeky grin. “Cole, you know the best way to experience this?”

“Wh-wh-what is that?” Your lips start kissing down his body as you undo his shirt. “Can I at least get a name?”

“Call me, Vixie,” you pull apart his shirt completely, marveling at his chiseled physique. Leaning down to lick around each of his nipples.

“So…what…what makes…you know giving you my blood…easier.”

“You’re adorable. Must be why you smell so sweet. Have you not figured out what I’m trying to do?” His head barely shakes no, and you roll your hips over his swollen crotch. “How about now?”

“Uh…w-w-wait…you want to kill me?”

“No, sweetheart, I want to overstimulate you, and give you the best orgasm of your life,” a timid squeaks pops out of his mouth, and just to make sure he understands, you roll your hips again. “What’s that, sweetheart? You want that? Or you want me to just take your blood and hold you captive?”

“Yeah.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Yes, I want…I don’t want to be a — um — captive. Oh god,” Cole’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you remove your shirt. Reaching behind you to undo your bra, and his mouth waters with need. This was going to go by too fast, but in time, Cole would be able to handle even more.

Getting to your knees, you hover over him. Undoing his pants, you pull them down with ease. Moaning when his cock breaks free, oh he is delicious. Pretty beads of precum on his tip, and even his thick vein is throbbing with need. The need to feel your walls squeeze him tight.

“Where are you going,” he whines when you stand up. But you don’t answer, just shimmy out of your pants before straddling him again. His eyes cast down your body, lingering on your cunt. He watches as you start to sink back down to your knees.

You grab the base of his cock, and he chirps. The sweetest little sound of pleasure and nerves. “Cole, I’ve only just touched you, sweetheart, are you going to be okay with me riding this pretty cock?”

“Yeah. Yes. Most definitely. Ah,” Cole soothes out as you let his tip just touch your weeping cunt. He has the longest drawn out mewl when your body takes every inch. Even your own strangled moan echoes into the wind at how well he fills you up. Giving yourself a moment to adjust, while you look at him. He is struggling.

Biting his lip, his eyes clenched close. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m trying not to come.”

“You’re adorable,” he finally opens his eyes a bit. Peering up at you. “Cole,” you don’t even bounce over him, just give a dirty grind, and his hands grip tight onto your hips while he seethes. “I’ll keep taking you until I come, sweetie. Just relax. Enjoy the ride.”

Reaching behind you, you fondle his balls as you start undulating your hips. Letting him get used to the feeling. He is vocal, and it feeds your ego. Receptive and letting you know how good you were making him feel. All you can see is red as your vision pulses to the rhythm of his pumping blood. Giving the illusion of a bad quality home video, but it made him more beautiful. He lifts his neck up while turning his head. Showing you what really turns you on.

Hard pounding throbs that you no longer can ignore. His dick is already twitching in anticipation of coming.

Leaning over, you start to bounce over him. Taking every veiny inch of him as you sniff up his neck. His scent was mixed with something even more sweet, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to think about that. Laying your tongue flat, you lick a stripe up the sensitive column before your fangs graze over his sticky skin. His body hums in excitement. He is almost there. Almost to his grand finale. He’d hold out longer in time, but you are still going to make sure he is overstimulated.

His moans are so much closer to you, and you feel the hum of it straight to your core. Timing just when you are going to bite him. He’d never want anyone besides you after this. You would be a drug to him.

Just as his breathing hitches, and his voice goes up an octave, you pierce his skin. His taste blows up all your senses, and your vision blacks out. Your body on autopilot as his seed spurts deep into your womb. Slamming yourself over him, the two of your juices create a thick cream that coats his cock and oozes out of you.

He tastes better than you could have ever imagined. Summer rain, the breeze from hummingbird wings, the buzz of the honeybee, the warm glow of a lightning bug, and even the sweetness of wild honeysuckle. His essence drains down your throat, coating your insides. If it wasn’t for your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t even know that you had reached your own peak. It was just Cole.

Taking in a deep inhale, you lick over his punctures. Your saliva acts as a salve while you close up his wounds.

“Cole? Sweetie, can you see?” With a dopey smile, he shakes his head no. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, if you do that again.”

“I’ll make sure to do this everyday. Every hour. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah…”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @buckybarnesisdaddy @magnificentsaladllama

[khalixvitae]

its ME!! question uno... do u have any favourite scents 🤔 im very bad w scents but would like to learn... my friend gave me the kayali vanilla 28 hand cream and its quite scrumptious to me 🙂‍↕️

Hiii Nia <3

I do! I actually collect fragrances. I really love earthy scents and heady vanilla gourmands (not necessarily like. Together but you get it alskdjrh). I also love weird fragrances that smell like liminal spaces. Idk how to explain that other than things that smell like memories or places more than a specific thing. Huge fan of that. I will say, despite collecting, I do not have any kind of super refined taste in fragrances lololol I just enjoy what I enjoy and if something catches my eye I’m liable to buy a sample. Also, I haven’t smelled that particular Kayali hand cream, but I love their pistachio gelato perfume ::D.

New favorites right now would have to be:

Kabuki, TokyoMilk. Sugary, grapefruit forward, dries down to a warm (almost gingery??) amber vanilla. Really fun lychee note without being too syrupy. Very nice summery fragrance that I’ve been obsessed with. Not my usual kind of fragrance but I really do love it a lot. Opens with a jasmine note that just really adds to the rounded citrus scent and helps cut some of the sugar.

Mii Miic no. 79. It’s a dupe for Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry, but as someone who has tried Lost Cherry, I’m partial to this dupe ngl. It’s softer, has better projection/lasting power, and doesn’t cost a ridiculous amount of money (because dear god I’m not buying TF at full price just for it to fade). Anyway, the scent is this very soft almond and sandalwood with a pop of sour cherry. It’s almost liqueur like without being too terribly sweet. Not that I don’t love sweet scents, but ultra sweet cherry scents can smell like cough syrup lolol

Let Them Eat Cake, TokyoMilk. I’ve almost annihilated my sample of this- shout out to @hauntedtaxidermy for the recommendation because dear GOD this one is delicious. It’s a nutty vanilla gourmand, with an almost shampoo like dry down. It sounds weird, but trust. It smells clean and delicious, like you’ve just showered with your favorite vanilla soaps. There’s a distinct clean skin note that I was not expecting and I’m so into. Apparently there’s an orchid note, which may be where that freshness comes from. Anyway, it’s sweet without being cloying, and smells lived in from the dry down. Reminds me of an old bath and body works formulation from the early 2000s in the best way possible (rip Vanilla Brown Sugar, you are so missed).

Old reliable scents:

Brown Sugar and Fig, Bath and Body Works. I use this one as a body lotion, and I have for like. Literally almost a decade lololol. There is a perfume and a body mist option but I opt for the moisturizer. It’s discontinued now, but Bath and Body Works brings back discontinued scents every year or so for their annual sale and I stock the fuck up. Honestly, on paper it has a very similar DNA to Let Them Eat Cake, but it wears wayyyy earthier. I do wear them together though lololol. There’s a very distinct leafy/green note to it that I appreciate. Despite that earthiness, it has a distinct burnt sugar sweetness that is soooo so good. The fig (which is jammy but not syrupy) is backed up by a coconut milk base and I just agahnhh shakes you shakes you shakes you I love. This scent. It also reminds me of my mother.

Choco Musk, Al Rehab. Apparently this one is polarizing??? But walk with me here. I have never had anything smell this good on me, like ever. I don’t know if it’s my body chemistry or what, but dear god. I mean it’s straight up chocolate and vanilla and white musk, nothing else to it. I cannot explain why it smells so great on me, but seriously, I don’t have anything else in my collection that comes close to getting as many compliments. It’s definitely the sweetest scent I have, but I wear it religiously. I use the attar/roller ball oil based perfume. It’s not candy-like at all, but I’ve been told it smells like fresh baked goods on many occasions. Very warm, rich scent. It gets crazy mixed reviews online though, and I do think it has to come down to body chemistry.

Without a Trace, Fine’ry. Apparently it’s a dupe for Phlur’s Missing Person, but I had no idea when I got it. I just sort of loved it immediately. Completely different from anything on this list btw, like it’s kind of wild. Very strange and liminal scent. It smells so lived in, like someone else’s house or a Protestant church (clean, no incense, lingering remnants of other people’s scents). I personally think it smells like my childhood elementary school, or the church I went to as a kid. My partner claims it smells like the doctor’s office they went to when they were younger. I had a coworker tell me it smelled like the interior of their mom’s car, and their dead aunt’s house. It’s just a weird ass scent. The reviews for it online are wild. Apparently the original Phlur scent doesn’t have such a strong neroli note, but I honestly think the more synthetic edge adds to the experience. Disclaimer though- fine’ry is a Target brand, which sucks. I got my big ass bottle as a gift like a year or two ago, so I use it sparingly, as I won’t be shopping there again. Tl;dr: very strange scent. Big fan.

Honorable mentions:

Honey and the Moon, TokyoMilk. Delicious, strangely photorealistic honey scent with a soft, almost mossy floral base. Yummy yummy yummy.

Oatmeal Milk and Honey, Old Whaling Co. . Almond. That’s it, it just smells like almond. Not in like a liqueur or marzipan way, like almond paste. There’s a kind of bitterness to it that I find very appealing, great for layering. I use the body butter.

Cheirosa 39, Sol de Janeiro. Coconut milk and praline. It smells like a coconut custard or a condensed milk frosting. Genuinely cannot explain it. Super mega sweet, but so so good. My absolute fav, and it’s back for a limited time rn after being discontinued !!!

Patchouli soap, HeavenScent. Not a perfume or fragrance at all, literally just soap. But it’s the best natural patchouli soap I’ve ever gotten my hands on. Insanely earthy, wildly concentrated, doesn’t make my skin feel like sandpaper. Huge fan, especially into their exfoliating bars.

Anyway sorry this one is INSANELY long but man. I love smelling good and I love collecting things that smell good. Currently I’m on the hunt for a photorealistic incense smell, so if anyone has any recommendations please lmk. I don’t burn incense anymore really, not since I got my cat, but I love love love how it smells when it sticks to my skin and hair. Ngl I burn it in my car sometimes lol.

[siberat]

how about something with someone finding it difficult to fly with a full belly 😁

Why did he eat so much?

The gathering was good fun. There was a lull in fighting, and the Auto/bots took the time to put together a dinner party to socialize. Swo/op couldn’t resist the urge to grace his presence.

Unlike his other Dino/bot comrades, the flyer didn’t mind mingling even when other mechs didn’t share his enthusiasm. Mind you, they weren’t rude, just relatively short. Sideways glances would be thrown his way as he forced his opinions into the topics of conversation. Some mechs would slowly step away while others humored him momentarily before excusing themselves for odd reasons.

Apparently, Swo/op was kind of avoided due to the ‘ferocity’ his alt mode had.

Usually, the arial dino loved striking fear into his enemies and would take that as a compliment. However, hearing this from his comrades was a buzz-kill. And yes, Griml/ock was quick to say, ‘I told you so,’ as well as the others, claiming this was the perfect example as to why Dino/bots and Auto/bots don’t mix.

Even so, Swo/op felt the urge to attempt to mingle. Tonight wasn’t very successful—sadly, Sky/fire was away on a deep space mission, and the Arial/bots were nowhere to be found. Flyers tended to be more accepting, but none other than Power/glide attended—and Swo/op could only take so much of that mech!

The saving grace was the smorgasbord of food that drowned out the tables. Every type of energy/oned goodies one could imagine seemed to be present! Some of Swo/op's favorites were the mac and cheese loaded with gooey, melted cheese and bacon, French onion soup, cyberfish, and steak, just to name a few.

So, when the conversation wasn’t working, the winged mech simply filled his plate with decadent foods and gobbled them up. Each mouthful brought a smile to his lips. Each swallow made his tummy growl with pleasure. Each plate finished screamed out for another! The dishes ranged from savory to smokey, spicey to tangy, and crunchy to melt-in-your-mouth scrumptious!

Once all the dinner courses were pecked at, the dessert table was visited. The rainbow-colored dishes were so pretty to look at! They were even better to taste—the cherry pies were ever so sweet and contained a hint of an almond flavor. Danishes were freshly baked and very soft, with their icing bursting with acidic citrus filling. The mousse had the best velvety textures, and the chocolates had a rich cocoa flavor!

The food was so good it wasn’t until an angry growl announced just how stuffed he became.

He rubbed his servos over the plump swell, its plating bulging out and feeling extremely taunt. Prim/us, his belly ached as it moaned, desperately working to digest such a massive feast. Sitting back, Swo/op huffed. Breathing became more of a chore. He felt as if he had swallowed a bowling ball! Probably looked like he swallowed one as well.

Overindulging was totally worth it. His taste buds still danced with joy at all the delicious flavors! As his servos pressed at his quivering gut, Swo/op licked his lips, feeling the post-feasting slumber creeping in. Glancing around, no other ‘bot seemed keen on conversing with him. And he was simply too stuffed to bother mingling anymore.

He had his fill. Now, it was time to fly home.

That is if he could get this heavy frame off the ground! The flier frowned. He didn’t think of this aspect, but his cozy nest beckoned, and he gave the party the slip.

Slag, just walking seemed to take up so much energy! His body felt heavy as he dragged himself from the gathering to a clearing. He glanced at the sky—it was clear with only a few clouds littering the way. The freedom of flying was calling to him, and he made his way to transform.

At least attempt to.

His t-cog activated, and gears whined and clicked, but total transformation did not happen. Swo/op tried a few times, but a clunking and grinding sound was heard each time. His belly was simply too big! Furring his optics, Swo/op growled, not believing for one moment he was grounded!

He sucked in his gut- even using his servos to manipulate his flab as he transformed. This was challenging- gears vibrated that shouldn’t have, his frame erratically jerked, and he swore he smelt a faint smoke smell. Finally, changing into his alt-mode was complete, and he stood on the ground in his pterodactyl form. Releasing his breath, he felt his plating creak and bulge: if he had eaten one more plate, he’d probably pop some paneling off!

With transformation out of the way, the next step was take-off, and he knew his graceful ascension into the sky was not going to be pretty. Nonetheless, he waddled to a clearing and spread his wings wide. After giving a final stretch, those wings began flapping. He felt his body slowly rise but did not lift from the ground. Working harder, Swo/op desperately worked his appendages, but it still felt like trying to make a boulder airborne.

It didn’t take long for his wing joints to tire, but a final attempt was made. Crouching down, the flyer madly flapped its wings and leaped into the sky. He was in the air for all two seconds before plummeting back onto the ground.

Sadly, his feet slipped out from under him, and he rolled forward, grimacing as his overstuffed belly took the impact. He then rolled head over feet a few times before coming to a stop. Once dirt was shaken from his face, the bird-former groaned. Longingly, he glared at the sky, but he could not sail amongst the clouds! He was grounded.

With much difficulty, he returned to his root mode- there was slightly more room for his widened frame. He sat on the ground, rubbing a servo over his grumbling belly. Saddened that he could not take to the skies, he did not regret the feast.

He was, however, happy his fellow Dino/bots did not join him, for their ridicule over his predicament would have been unbearable. A smile appeared on his lips as he bathed in the sun’s warmth, rubbing his servos over his swollen belly and reminiscing of all the tasty dishes he had consumed.

Swo/op truly did enjoy the party.

.... .....

Sorry this took so long! Sometimes I really get into a slump with writing!!

[thedickcavettshow]

If you only have one apple you can’t get too excited to eat it because it might be rotten inside and you’ll be extremely disappointed. If you have a whole bunch of apples though then you should spend the whole day at school or work thinking about how much you can’t wait to eat one of those delicious succulent crisp juicy decadent fleshy tender fresh ripe mouthwatering flavorsome flavorful tasty delectable palatable scrumptious comestible flavorous sapid apples

[queen-mabs-revenge]

ok hot take but i don't like the chocolate guy's chocolate sculpture videos. there is nothing delicious about them. nothing decadent. nothing scrumptious.

sure the artistry is beyond, but can you imagine actually eating a massive, overworked pigment-doused chocolate ferris wheel? miserable.

give me the pastry creations any day. the liqueur-soaked sponges layered with vanilla bean studded mousses, dipped in chocolate and flocked with powdered sugar to make a perfect replica of a jewelry box. the kiwi reduction frozen and embedded in champagne cream, wrapped in a crisp pastry shell and dipped in a shimmering glaze as a perfect set of celestial and terrestrial globes.

the chocolate is physically impressive, sure, but it's giving fondant vibes in the vicariously-experienced flavor department

[temptationscakes1111]

Looking for the Best Eggless Cakes Singapore Has to Offer? – Try Our Delicious Eggless Cakes Today!

If you're in search of the best eggless cakes Singapore has to offer, look no further than Temptations Cakes. Whether you’re avoiding eggs due to dietary restrictions, allergies, or simply prefer eggless desserts, we have an array of cakes that promise to delight your taste buds without compromising on flavor or texture. Our carefully crafted eggless cakes are made with the finest ingredients, ensuring you enjoy a scrumptious treat every time.

Why Choose Eggless Cakes?

Eggless cakes are an excellent choice for anyone who wants to avoid eggs in their diet. They’re not only suitable for vegans or those with egg allergies, but they also cater to people who follow certain dietary restrictions. What makes our eggless cakes stand out is the dedication we put into creating the perfect blend of flavors and textures that mimic traditional cakes, without eggs.

At Temptations Cakes, we understand that flavor and texture are key when it comes to creating the perfect cake. We ensure that every eggless cake is moist, rich, and full of flavor, just like its egg-based counterparts. From chocolate indulgence to fruit-filled delights, we have a wide variety of eggless cakes that will satisfy any craving.

Our Range of Eggless Cakes

Looking for a classic chocolate cake that’s eggless? We’ve got you covered with our decadent chocolate eggless cake, rich in flavor and perfectly moist. Or perhaps you're craving something fruity? Our eggless fruit cakes are bursting with fresh flavors and are a refreshing change from the usual. Whatever your preference, Temptations Cakes has something for everyone.

We also offer customizable options, so whether you want a cake for a birthday, anniversary, or any other special occasion, we’ll work with you to create the perfect eggless cake. Our cakes come in a variety of sizes, from small servings to large cakes, to suit your celebration needs.

Eggless Cakes Singapore – The Perfect Choice for All Occasions

What sets Temptations Cakes apart from other bakeries in Singapore is our dedication to making eggless cakes that are perfect for all occasions. Whether you’re planning a wedding, birthday, or just a casual gathering, our eggless cakes will always impress your guests.

We take pride in delivering cakes that are not only delicious but also visually appealing. Our team of skilled bakers ensures that every cake is decorated beautifully, making it the perfect centerpiece for any celebration. Plus, our cakes are made with love and attention to detail, so you can enjoy an unforgettable dessert experience.

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Ready to indulge in the best eggless cakes Singapore has to offer? Temptations Cakes is here to help! Simply give us a call at +6591284171 to place your order, or visit our website to browse our full range of eggless cake options. We’ll ensure that your cake arrives fresh and ready to be enjoyed, no matter the occasion.

Don’t wait—treat yourself to our delicious eggless cakes today! We guarantee you’ll love every bite, and you’ll be coming back for more.

Temptations Cakes is committed to bringing you the finest eggless cakes Singapore has ever seen. From custom designs to a range of classic flavors, our cakes are perfect for anyone looking to indulge in a guilt-free, eggless treat. Contact us now and experience the best of eggless desserts!

[megamobilestylesposts]

11 Recipes Using Crushed Almonds That You'll Absolutely Love

It’s not difficult to figure out ways we can incorporate crushed almonds into our diet.

Read on for a “handful” of recipes using crushed almonds to inspire you to add this nutrient-rich nut to your diet in some delicious ways!

Almonds are actually very versatile for different recipes or dietary preferences. They can be used in sweet and savory dishes!

1. Almond-Crusted Tilapia

This recipe is super simple, but jam-packed with flavor. With just six ingredients, it’ll be the easiest dinner recipe you can make this week.

2. Cranberry-Almond Chicken Salad

Adding almonds to a salad is nothing new, but adding it to this chicken salad with dried cranberries gives the perfect sweet and savory balance to your salad.

3. Blueberry-Almond Cobbler

We’re no strangers to adding almonds to our desserts, and this blueberry-almond cobbler really hits the spot! For extra decadence, serve it with ice cream!

4. Spicy Pork-and-Orange Chopped Salad

Did you know you can soak your almonds to change up their flavor? These soy sauce-infused almonds work so perfectly with the spicy pork!

5. Classic Chicken Tetrazzini

This family-friendly dish takes less than an hour, provides a filling one-dish meal, and looks so good with those slivered almonds.

6. Freekeh Paella with Clams and Almond Aioli

Turn those almonds into a delicious aioli and enjoy some freekeh paella with clams this week for dinner. You won’t be disappointed.

7. Banana Almond Smoothie

Sometimes the easiest way to eat healthy foods is to drink them. Adding almonds to your smoothies provides a tasty nuttiness to an otherwise sweet drink.

8. Chocolate-on-Chocolate Tart with Maple Almonds

You can really never go wrong with chocolate and almonds, especially if it’s maple almonds. Excuse us while we salivate over here.

9. Basic Nut Milk

Don’t feel like making a fancy meal with your almonds? Turn them into milk with this super simple recipe! This can also save you money on buying almond milk in the store.

10. Pan-Roasted Chicken with Carrots and Almonds

Carrots and almonds are always a perfect combination. And, paired with a delicious pan-roasted chicken, your kitchen never stood a chance.

11. Almond Bread Pudding with Salted Caramel Sauce

Use almonds in this recipe to make some scrumptious almond butter and then sprinkle some more on top at the end to really bring it all together.

The possibilities of recipes you can make with crushed almonds is truly endless. We hope these recipes inspire you to add this healthy nut to your diet this week!

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cheddar Fries Day 

Crunchy on the outside, fluffy on the inside - cheddar fries are a savory sensation! Whether dipped in ketchup or smothered in cheese sauce, these fries are a satisfying snack.

There’s something so incredibly delicious and deeply American about a big huge pile of french fries that is smothered in cheddar cheese sauce and piled high! Whether eaten as an appetizer or as a whole meal, cheddar fries have the power to bring quite a bit of delight to any table of friends or family members.

Now, Cheddar Fries Day is here to pay honor and respect to this simple and appetizing bit of American cuisine.

History of National Cheddar Fries Day

National Cheddar Fries Day got its official start in 2016 by a restaurant called Snuffer’s in the state of Texas. Though no one is quite sure when this dish got its start, it was certainly created somewhere in the United States. Putting cheese on french fried potatoes to make cheddar fries, or cheese fries, may have originated around the time that the American company, Kraft, released a product called Cheez Whiz in 1953. This was a processed cheese food that made it possible to have a saucier kind of melted cheese in a jar or can.

Chili cheese fries, which are basically cheddar fries that incorporate chili as well, have a story of having been invented at a Dairy Queen restaurant in Missouri by a man named Austin Ruse. But it is known that chili cheese fries could be sourced in the frozen food section of grocery stores as early as 1975.

In today’s world, cheddar fries are served at all sorts of different locally owned restaurants as well as national chains, from fast food to diner-style to casual family dining restaurants. They might come with just cheese or chili and cheese. Or they might be “loaded” up with bacon bits, green onions and sour cream. Some of the well-known places that serve a version of cheddar fries might include Steak ‘n Shake, Wendy’s, Arby’s, Shake Shack and many others.

National Cheddar Fries Day Timeline

1600s French Fries get their start

Deceivingly, the first fries were made in the country of Belgium, where the French language is spoken. 

1934 Steak ‘n Shake is first opened

Founded in Normal, Illinois, Steak ‘n Shake will eventually become an American icon for fries, specializing in cheddar cheese fries.

1953 Cheez Whiz is introduced

This canned, whipped cheese by Kraft makes it easier to put cheese on just about anything! 

1978 Snuffer’s Restaurant & Bar serves Cheddar Fries

This Dallas diner adds cheddar fries to its menu and will eventually found National Cheddar Fries Day decades later. 

2016 First National Cheddar Fries Day is celebrated

Getting its start at Snuffer’s restaurant in Texas, the first National Cheddar Fries Day takes place.

How to Celebrate National Cheddar Fries Day

Get on board with all sorts of fun ways to celebrate and enjoy National Cheddar Fries Day when you participate in some these delicious and delightful activities:

Head Out for Some Cheddar Fries

Take the opportunity to celebrate National Cheddar Fries Day by ordering some up at a restaurant. Those who are near the Dallas, Texas, area might want to try out Snuffer’s Restaurant & Bar, the original restaurant where National Cheddar Fries Day was founded. In fact, Snuffer’s also claims to be one of the creators of the original “cheddar fries” and their recipe includes cheddar cheese, with the option of adding bacon, chives and jalapenos for an even more scrumptious experience.

Get Creative with Cheddar Fries

Making a version of cheddar fries or cheese fries at home is an amazing way to get creative with those culinary skills in the kitchen. Start out with some basic french fried potatoes, whether starting from frozen or fresh. Then fry them in oil or bake them in the oven.

The most important factor for cheddar fries is, obviously, the cheese, but beyond that it’s easy to make things interesting and unique in honor of Cheddar Fries Day. Try out some of these creative ideas for making cheddar fries at home:

Mexican Cheese Fries. In addition to cheese sauce, pile french fries with beef taco meat, black beans, zesty jalapenos, and a delicious lime yogurt sauce.

Texas Cheese Fries. This copycat recipe comes from Chili’s restaurant and starts with a big batch of chili in the crockpot. Pile it on top of fries with cheese sauce, bacon, pickled jalapenos and topped off with ranch dressing.

Kimchi and Chorizo Fries. Tasty with a healthy kick, these loaded fries have cheese sauce, spicy chorizo, fermented kimchi and green onions.

Sloppy Joe Sweet Potato Cheddar Fries. Make things a bit more interesting when you use sweet potato fries instead of regular fries, and then add Sloppy Joe meat, cheddar cheese and chives. A super tasty twist on an American classic.

Learn Some Fun Facts About Cheddar and Fries

In honor of National Cheddar Fries Day, it might be fun to raise awareness and pique the interest of family members and friends by learning and sharing some unique and interesting fun facts about the elements of this dish. Have a go with some of these bits of trivia:

Cheddar cheese comes in a few different interesting varieties. The most common are mild, medium, sharp and extra sharp. But there is also white cheddar, New York style, Orkney Scottish Island Cheddar, and even “red cheddar”, which is really more of a Red Leicester cheese.

French fries don’t seem to have actually originated in France but in Belgium. It is believed they were called French fries because American soldiers first discovered them among the French speaking Belgians.

Cheddar cheese originated in a village in Somerset, England, by the name of Cheddar.

When the restaurant started the price of a portion of McDonald’s French Fries was only ten cents.

Host a Cheddar Cheese Fries Day Party

It’s fun to get people together to celebrate this tasty and delicious treat on National Cheddar Fries Day. Perhaps host a cheddar cheese fries buffet at home as a fun way to enjoy the day. Or, celebrate the day in the breakroom at work by having coworkers bring in different fixings or other items to put on top of the cheddar fries. It’s a cool way to have lunch at work and build camaraderie as well.

Hold a National Cheddar Fries Competition

For those who want to get a bit more competitive, perhaps it would be fun to turn Cheddar Fries Day into a competition. Allow different competitors to bring their favorite recipes for cheddar fries, chili cheddar fries or loaded cheddar fries, and then host a cookoff. Let other participants be judges and declare the winner as the person whose cheddar fries get the most votes. They could win a simple prize, a certificate or just general bragging rights. Of course, since everyone gets to eat cheddar fries on National Cheddar Fries Day, it turns out that everyone wins!

National Cheddar Fries Day FAQs

Are cheddar fries gluten free?

Yes, as long as the cheese sauce doesn’t contain gluten, cheddar fries should be gluten free.

Will cheddar cheese melt?

Cheddar cheese melts especially well when it is shredded.

Are cheese fries healthy?

Cheese fries can have a lot of carbs and fat, but they can be made in ways that are healthier.

Are cheese fries good?

Sure! Cheese fries are popular and liked by many, with variations including bacon, jalapeno slices, green onions and more. 

How to make cheddar cheese fries?

Making cheddar cheese fries is easy by piling cheese sauce on top of cooked french fries.

Source

[bookthistruck1]

Make Your Big Day Delicious with Book This Truck Catering

Elevate Your Celebration with a Unique Food Truck for Wedding Experience

Your wedding should be as unique and unforgettable as your love story—and that includes the food. Say goodbye to traditional catering and hello to a flavorful, fun, and unforgettable option with Book This Truck Catering. We specialize in crafting an exceptional Food truck for wedding experience that guests will rave about long after the last dance. When you choose Book This Truck Catering, you're not just hiring a food service—you’re investing in a mobile culinary experience. Our expertly curated food truck fleet offers everything from gourmet street tacos and wood-fired pizzas to vegan delights and decadent desserts. Whatever your style or theme, we bring the perfect flavor to your wedding.

Why Choose a Food Truck for Wedding?

There’s something undeniably special about having a food truck roll up to your venue, adding flair and excitement to the atmosphere.

Here's why it's a game-changer:

Interactive dining: Guests love watching their food being freshly prepared right before their eyes.

Custom menus: Create a food lineup that reflects your favorite eats and cultural flavors.

Unmatched flexibility: Indoors, outdoors, countryside, or city—food trucks go where traditional catering can't.

Book This Truck Catering takes pride in curating the perfect blend of cuisine and charm for your special day. With our experienced team and wide network of trucks, your guests will enjoy a delicious, hassle-free dining experience from start to finish.

The Book This Truck Catering Difference -

We’re more than just a food truck vendor—we’re your event partner. With years of experience serving at weddings across the region, we know how to keep things smooth, stylish, and scrumptious.

Stress-free planning: We handle the logistics so you can focus on your “I do.”

Variety of cuisines: From BBQ to sushi to Indian street food—whatever your palate desires.

Impeccable presentation: Our trucks are stylishly branded and photo-ready, perfect for your big day.

Planning a wedding can be overwhelming, but food doesn’t have to be. Choose a Food truck for wedding and let Book This Truck Catering bring culinary joy straight to your venue.

A Flavorful Wedding to Remember

Guests always remember the food. With a wedding food truck experience from Book This Truck Catering, they’ll remember yours for all the right reasons. Whether you’re envisioning a laid-back boho bash or a high-energy celebration under the stars, our food trucks deliver deliciousness with a side of fun.

Ready to make your wedding unforgettable? Contact Book This Truck Catering today and let’s start designing the perfect menu for your love story.

Turn your wedding day into a flavor-filled memory—book your food truck experience today.

[trydailyrecipes]

Indulge in the rich, decadent flavors of this Double Chocolate Banana Bread—perfect for breakfast or a sweet treat any time! 🍌🍫 Ingredients: - 3 ripe bananas - 1/2 cup melted butter - 1 cup sugar - 1 large egg - 1 teaspoon vanilla extract - 1 teaspoon baking soda - Pinch of salt - 1 cup all-purpose flour - 1/2 cup cocoa powder - 1/2 cup chocolate chips Directions: 1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C) and grease a loaf pan to prevent sticking. 2. In a mixing bowl, take those ripe bananas and mash them up with a fork until they're nice and smooth. 3. Pour in the melted butter and give it a good stir. 4. Next, mix in the sugar, egg, and vanilla extract until everything is well combined. 5. Sprinkle the baking soda and a pinch of salt over the mixture, and mix it in. 6. Time to add the flour and cocoa powder—stir until just combined; don’t overdo it! 7. Gently fold in those delicious chocolate chips for that extra chocolaty goodness. 8. Pour the batter into your prepared loaf pan and smooth out the top. 9. Bake in the oven for 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean—your kitchen will smell divine! 10. Once it’s baked to perfection, let it cool before slicing into it. Enjoy your scrumptious creation!

[samspizza]

The Most Famous Pizza Places in Iowa: Why Sam’s Pizza Stands Above the Rest

Greatest Pizza Place in Iowa

Every state boasts hidden gems with pizza, but Iowa may very well be home to some of the tastiest pies in the Midwest. From crispy thin crusts to deep-dish delights, the Hawkeye State has much to offer in terms of pie. But of all the famous pizza joints in Iowa, one name always rises to the top Sam’s Pizza. If you’re looking for the best slice in the state, here’s why Sam’s Pizza should top the list.

Why is Sam’s Pizza Considered the Best?

Sam’s Pizza has been a local favorite for decades, with a variety of delicious flavors that keep customers coming back for more. This pizzeria located in the heart of Iowa has established itself as one of the most recognized names in the pizza industry, thanks to exceptional customer service, it uses high-quality ingredients and unique recipes. Here’s what makes Sam’s Pizza unique:

New, Really Delicious Ingredients

Sam’s Pizza's use of only the freshest ingredients is one of the reasons that makes it one of the most famous pizza places in Iowa. The dough is made from scratch each day, the sauce is a secret mix of rich tomatoes and special seasonings, and the cheese is always high quality. From traditional pepperoni to specialty pizza, there is taste in every bite.

Unique and Authentic Recipes

Too many pizza joints depend on a generic recipe, but Sam’s Pizza takes that up a notch with authentic regional flavors. Signature pizzas comprise a combination of traditional staples and unique pairings that you won’t taste anywhere else. From their iconic supreme pizza to their scrumptious white garlic chicken, there’s something for everyone.

A Comforting and Enthusiastic Vibe

A great pizza experience is not just about the food, it is about the scene as well. Sam’s Pizza enjoys a warm and welcoming environment, so it’s perfect for family outings, casual meetups, and even date nights. Friendly staff and a community-minded attitude make it easy to understand why locals and visitors return again and again.

Rave Reviews and Repeat Customers

Customer reviews speak volumes when trying to find the most famous pizza houses in Iowa. Loyal customers rave about Sam’s Pizza’s tasty crust, ample toppings, and good service. Whether you’re a lifelong local or just passing through, here is one pizza place that won’t let you down.

Why Sam’s Pizza Is Better Than Other Pizza Places in Iowa

There’s no shortage of pizzerias in Iowa, but a visit to Sam’s Pizza usually puts it at the top. When it comes to chain restaurants, the quality of food being served may not be the best, but Sam’s Pizza sticks to homemade recipes and provides people with the best customer experience. Add to that their commitment to community involvement and support of local events, and you’ve got more than just a pizza joint — it’s a hometown staple.

Getting Started: Have the Best Pizza in Iowa Today

And if you’re looking for the most iconic pizza in Iowa, look no further than Sam’s Pizza. When fresh ingredients, unbeatable flavors, and a welcoming atmosphere come together, you know this pizzeria is a must-visit for anyone who loves a good slice. Whatever your fancy, dine-in or take-out, or delivered, one thing you can be sure of — you will be treated!

So the next time you are in the mood for an amazing pizza, go to Sam’s Pizza and taste the difference!

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Indulgent Cheese Experience: Dive into the luxurious taste of Acasa Four Cheese Ravioli, where cheddar cheese, ricotta cheese, blue cheese, and mascarpone cheese come together in a scrumptious harmony, creating a decadent feast for your taste buds. Elevate your dining experience with this exquisite blend of flavors, perfect for those who cherish rich, creamy pasta dishes that promise both satisfaction and culinary delight. Mouth-Watering Fresh Pasta Delight: Relish the authentic taste of fresh pasta with Acasa's expertly crafted cheese ravioli. Each bite offers a tender, melt-in-your-mouth sensation that transports you to an Italian trattoria, providing an unparalleled culinary journey from the comfort of your own home. Ideal for festive occasions or cozy dinners, our ravioli ensures a genuine, home-cooked feel that brings warmth and tradition to every meal. High-Protein Comfort Food: Enjoy the comfort of a hearty meal that is not just indulgent but also high in protein; our cheese ravioli delivers nourishment with every bite to fuel your day. Whether you're seeking a nourishing lunch or a delicious dinner option, these ravioli ensure you remain satisfied and energized, balancing taste and nutritional value to keep your wellness goals intact. Effortless Gourmet Convenience: With Acasa's cheese ravioli, transform any ordinary meal into a gourmet experience with ease and efficiency. Perfect for busy lifestyles, this dish offers the luxury of a restaurant-quality meal at home without the hassle. Simply cook, serve, and savor the convenience of a premium dish that adds sophistication and flavor to your dining routine, saving you both time and effort in the kitchen. Versatile Meal Solution: Acasa Four Cheese Ravioli is a versatile frozen food option suitable for countless pairings and recipes. Pair it with your favorite sauces or a simple drizzle of olive oil for an elegant meal that caters to various palates and dietary preferences. Ideal for spontaneous gatherings or planned dinners, this dish provides limitless culinary possibilities, letting you unleash your creativity in the kitchen. [ad_2]