#i miss fresh mozzarella so much

[rollercoasterwords]

About the cheese, would MS Word get mozzarella as its cheese qualification? If yes, then what do you think of Ms Zabini getting that one?

Mostly because my headcannons of her are one of the old Hollywood people like Eartha Kitt, that sophistication(whether born into the money or manufactured to help her kill her husbands) and grace...maybe she'd fit?

yes u get it microsoft word is SUCH a mozzarella girlie to me <3

and i haven't really thought much abt ms. zabini but based on ur description of her yeah maybe she'd be a mozzarella girlie too!

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut (like very explicit), minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you and joel continue to see one another, no matter the distance. And finally, you two breach the subject of "what are we".

warnings: joel is still bi in this, minor angst in the beginning, live stream sex, piv, messy titjob, dirty talk, possesive!joel, squirting, a hint of jealous joel, good girl/sir, praise kink

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @trauma-dol 💜 thank you so much for commissioning me, I appreciate it lots!

part two of ravish

There are a lot of things you don’t like. The smell of roasted chickpeas, for instance. While others might find it inviting, it's just an odd scent that doesn't sit right with you. Then there's that annoying feeling of needing to pee right after you've gotten all cozy in bed. The list just goes on. You can think of a million things that annoy the heck out of you. 

However, waiting for someone that you’ve been eager to see for months to arrive at your doorstep might be the thing you hate the most. 

Worry bubbles up within you, and you can't help but sigh as you reach for the phone. Joel was supposed to arrive a good thirty minutes ago. 

Excited to see him, you had spent time chopping up an assortment of fresh vegetables – plump tomatoes, vibrant bell peppers sliced into perfect rings, and red onions thinly shaved and ready to caramelize into sweet perfection.

Besides the cutting board, a bowl of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese sits in fluffy mounds, ready to meld and melt into gooey goodness. Fragrant basil leaves are waiting to be scattered over the final creation. The pizza dough had been carefully prepped and now resting. 

But alas, there’s still no sign of him. 

“Dammit Joel, where are you?” 

You knew you should’ve just picked him up from the airport. You should’ve just ignored his protests and gone. New York is a big city; he could’ve gotten himself lost. Or worse, someone might’ve tried to kidnap him, rob him—sure, he’s a big man, but this is New York City.

It had been a hectic month. After you moved back from your family home, the issue of whether or not the relationship should continue had been a hot topic of sorts. For a while, you both decided to embrace the idea of "not putting a label" and simply being together during your visits. However, that proved to be too complicated. Losing yourselves in each other during every visit didn’t really allow for anyone else to come in between.

Not that you were complaining. You really liked Joel and didn’t really have any desire to date anyone else. Joel had enamored you completely. It was hard to keep it casual when all you wanted was him. But clearly, Joel didn’t want anything serious. He was content with how things were. 

The thought made your heart sink painfully in your chest. 

You tried to visit each other once a month, although most of the time it ended up being once every two months. He still joined your live streams. And when your viewers realized you were more than happy to indulge in JMiller’s requests, they started to get suspicious, commenting and teasing relentlessly. That meant you had to ignore him for a bit, which you hated doing. 

You did enjoy the punishments that followed though. 

A sudden buzz pulls you away from memory lane. Looking down you see a text from Joel, prompting your smile. 

Almost there, honey. You weren’t kidding about the traffic. 

“Dork,” you grin. Your head falls back against the back of the couch. You’ve missed him and now that he’ll be here soon makes you all giddy. Dormant butterflies erupt in your chest. Just the thought of him is enough to excite you. For an entire week, Joel Miller is yours. You had planned out everything. Not a minute will be wasted. Not on your watch. 

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You practically jump off the couch and run toward the sound. When you open it, you’re breathless, the tiny hairs at the back of your neck standing with attention. 

It’s him. 

He’s here. 

His eyes are tired, the crinkles you love to kiss deepening with his wide smile, “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says. “Miss me?” 

You jump towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear the “oomf” that vibrates from his chest as you tug him impossibly close, forcing him to lean over you. Joel’s hands find the dip of your waist, squeezing tenderly, his nose bumps affectionally into the crook of your neck, and heat gathers under your skin. 

“God I missed you,” you say, voice trembling. Desperately you hold his face and bring him to your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the movement dripping with a need for authority and control. You happily give it to him, opening wide. He sucks the air from your lungs and swallows your moans. Slick gathers between your legs, the fabric of your underwear clinging to your cunt and asking for the stretch of his cock. 

Joel guides the roll of your hips, chuckling darkly into your mouth when you desperately rub yourself against the denim. A shudder rolls up your spine. His cock firming under his jeans, “Honey,” he rasps. “Maybe we should close the door first?” 

“Why?” you say with a hitch of your breath. You drag your lips down his neck, nip at his racing pulse. “I know the neighbor wouldn’t mind. He watches my streams.” 

You’d said it without a second thought, which might’ve been a mistake on your part. His muscles grow rigid under your palms, the heat melting quickly like ice under the hot summer sun. “Is everything okay?” you ask, cupping his cheeks and forcing his gaze up. 

His gaze stays on you only for a moment before he drops his eyes to your lips. Your brows furrow at the reaction. His eyes are clear like a sky before a storm. Obviously, he has the question he wants to ask already locked and loaded but refusing to pull the trigger. He lifts his hands, the width of them blanketing yours as he pulls them down. 

“Just tired,” he sighs. He’s saved by the loud grumble of his stomach, the tension breaking. “And hungry,” he adds with a crooked smile. You force a smile and ignore the trembling of your bottom lip. Joel’s tone might be playful but it does little in calming your nerves. Moving away, the chill you feel on your skin is instant. 

“I prepared most of the ingredients,” you say. “I thought pizza and wine?” 

“We’re in the birthplace of the dollar pizza and you made it homemade?” 

You giggle at how comically wide his eyes are. “Well forgive me for not wanting to feed you the cheapest thing available,” Joel’s lips touch your temple, warmth blossoming where his mouth brushes against. “And I thought it would be fun.” 

“It will,” he murmurs. “I’m not used to bein’ pampered I guess. Only Sarah cares about what goes down my gullet.” 

“Hmm I don’t recall saying it was due to the consideration of your health,” you tease, fingers tiptoeing from his arm to his shoulder. He shivers at the touch. “Maybe, I just want to see what these strong hands can do with some dough.” 

His mere grin manages to send ripples of pleasure down your spine. Something dark and wicked crosses his face and you let out a shaky sigh. “Brat,” he teases. 

With a cat-like grin of your own, you close the door. 

Joel stands before the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead light accentuating the contours of his figure. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms that glisten with a slight sheen of flour. The muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin ripple as he reaches for the dough, his biceps forming a subtle bulge with each purposeful movement.

With a focused expression, he takes the smooth, slightly elastic dough in his hands. The material yields to his touch, supple yet resilient. As his strong fingers sink into the dough's yielding embrace, you can't help but admire the way he handles it. His touch is both firm and gentle, his hands a testament to years of construction work that have endowed him with strength and dexterity.

The dough stretches and folds, responding to his guidance with grace. His hands move with an almost mesmerizing rhythm, kneading and pressing, coaxing the dough into a state of perfection. The occasional wisp of flour dances in the air as he works.

You watch, entranced, as Joel's fingers work their magic. The concentration etched on his face, the way his lips quirk up in a faint smile as he loses himself while doing so makes your heart race.

As he works, you find your own fingers involuntarily tracing the outline of your wine glass.

"Enjoyin' the view, honey?" Joel's voice rumbles, breaking through the silence. You quickly set the wine glass down and begin to babble something in response, your words stumbling over each other. But before you can complete your sentence, Joel grips your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your back is flush against his solid chest.

His scent of pine and undeniable masculinity, surrounds you, intoxicating your senses as effectively as the wine you had been sipping. The shift in the atmosphere is palpable, charged with an electricity that sends shivers down your spine.

Joel's hands find yours, and he guides them to rest above the dough, his touch sending a jolt of awareness through you. “I’m the guest why the hell am I doin’ all the work?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his calloused skin brushing against your more delicate touch. Your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his kneading.

Kneading the dough together, you feel a growing pressure against your lower back. It takes a moment for you to realize – his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against you. The realization sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hand drops to your waist, guiding the grind of your hips. You feel him as the dress you’re wearing dips between your asscheeks, clothed cock parting the two gently. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, the tremble of it felt against your back. Your focus has shifted. The dough forgotten entirely. 

“You’re makin’ cookin’ really hard, sweetheart.” 

You manage a breathless chuckle, "Oh, and whose fault might that be, Mr. Master Dough Kneader?"

He snarls into your ear, hot breath causing goosebumps. “You really are bein’ a brat today. Is there a special occasion for that?” 

Honestly, being a brat really wasn’t your objective. It just. . . sorta came out. You reveled when Joel took control, be it face-to-face or during streams. There’s always something primal lingering under his touches, his words. You roll your hips, cutting his breath short, you feel the length of him being dragged down between the plump flesh of your ass. 

“I just want to make you happy,” you say surprisingly soft. When you attempt to rub against him once more, he stops you, both hands now on your waist, squeezing you in warning. 

“You do make me happy,” he breathes out. His voice is deep, slivering down your back. Heat pools between your legs and you lean into his warmth. “Why would you say that?” 

“Forget it,” You hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Worry begins to inflate your chest, heat rising to the tips of your ears and making you short of sight. You attempt to reach for the tomato sauce, making sure to drag the plumpness of your behind against the heft of his cock in order to eradicate the moment. You don’t want him to think too much about it. Or decide that what you have—whatever it is—isn’t worth it. 

The pads of your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the bowl but you can’t reach it. Not quite. Joel turns you over, hands between your waist and the sharp edge of the counter. Frustrated, you fill your cheeks with air and shoot him a glare. “Seriously, it’s nothing, Joel.” 

“No it ain’t,” he snaps silently. “Why would you stress about makin’ me happy?” 

He scoffs at your silence, “What? You think I’m just passin’ the time by comin’ here? That if it’s not worth my time I’ll just leave?” he asks, baffled. Your gaze drops to the granite floor, bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Joel’s eyes go wide, bushy eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Wait you actually think that?” 

You remain silent. 

“Sweetheart. . .” he shakes his head and pinches your chin, pulling your gaze back up. He looks concerned. Remorseful. You try not to think about your pulse skyrocketing under your skin, try to ignore the skip of your heart. “You really think I’m that shallow?” 

“No,” you answer suddenly, the need to defend him to himself burrowing in your chest. “It’s not that. I just. . . I don’t know. I’m confused I guess.” 

“‘bout what?” 

His thumb draws slow circles on your cheek, you close your eyes, heart and chest suddenly light as air. You could float if you had the capability. You nuzzle his hand like a hurt animal, begging for more of his touch. 

“I really really like you, you know.” 

“I really like you too, honey,” you ignore the way his words and smile make your skin prickle with delight. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” 

You sigh, you’re stuck between the constant worry and the comfort he’s providing. Despite being known as a chatterbox, you’re having trouble finding the words. 

“I know that me streaming isn’t. . . conventional but I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t even do private streams anymore,” your eyes flit between his eyes, trying to get a read of whiskey-colored eyes. Fear coats your tongue upon noticing his lips are a thin line—definitely not a good sign. “And well. . . I don’t plan on seeing anyone else either because. . .” 

You melt in relief when his lips finally crack into a small smile, “Because you really really like me?” 

“Precisely,” you say a bit loud and excited. “And of course, I don’t want you to feel pressure but. . . are you seeing anyone?” you clear your throat. “B—Besides me, that is.” 

“Well. .  . sometimes I watch CammingBravo when he’s streamin’.” 

“Joel!” you huff out a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Adoration dots over his face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile. You love it when he teases you. Love it even more when he just stares at you with blatant amusement. The expression doesn’t linger long though. Like a small flame under rain, it sizzles out, his demeanor changing suddenly. 

His brows furrow, a crease you so desperately want to kiss away forming between them. Joel’s jaw ticks, the muscle above it twitching. He inches closer until your foreheads are pressed together, snug. Your heart is beating with rapid thumps, your breath caught in your throat.  

“I’m not seein’ anyone else either,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not planin’ on seein’ anyone else either.” 

“R-Really?” 

He nods, “I want you, sweetheart. Completely. I don’t care what you do on your streams as long as you’re mine when the camera shuts off.” 

Your smile is instantaneous. It’s not like you planned on streaming for the rest of your life, arrangements could be made to make him more comfortable. And you had stopped collabing with Dieter ever since Joel came into the picture—though, now that you knew Joel watched the fallen-from-grace actor’s streams. . . you were getting ideas. 

Joel nudges you with the tip of his nose, smiling, yet still hesitant, “Say somethin’ will you?” 

“So, we both want to be exclusive?” you grin. “That’s what you’re saying?” 

“Reckon, I am,” he answers with a snort. He parts his lips to say more but you beat him to it, covering his mouth with your own. The kiss is long and sweet. It feels like a first kiss in a way, even though you have kissed Joel many many times before.

“Come on now, let’s get these ready and pop them into the oven,” his grin is wide as he pinches your ass, you jump with a yelp and he laughs. When you fix him a half-hearted glare, he only winks. The simple action makes your insides clench. “I’m starvin’.” 

The next day, you take Joel to your favorite coffee shop. They make the best bagel sandwiches and you’re eager for him to try them out. He gets the classic bacon, egg, and cheese, and you order the avocado BLT. You offer to pay, but Joel being Joel, he quickly distracts you by dragging his lips from your temple to your cheek, swiftly taking out his wallet.

You give him a look of pure betrayal. If you were wearing pearls, you’d be clutching them by now. “Joel Miller,” you say, aghast. “How dare you use your charm for evil?” 

His laughter fills the air as he hands his credit card to the barista, his broad chest rising and falling with each boisterous sound. Your lips twitch into a smile as he cups your waist, pulling you close. His lips touch your ear and heat warms your cheeks. “Sorry, honey. I can’t always use my powers for good.” 

All you can manage is a short nod. Your senses narrow on the way his breath ghosts your skin, warm and soft like a summer breeze. For a second you forget about the bagels and the coffee shop, all you can think of is him; his body, his voice, his scent—arousal pulses between your legs. If you were positive the two of you wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, you’d let him take you against this very counter for everyone to see. 

“Come on now,” he teases, reading your expression easily. “I got the goods, let’s find ourselves a good table.” 

Alas, he really was holding a tray in his hands. You have no idea when the barista finished making your order. Either you’d been fantasizing for too long or you had one hell of a barista. 

The two of you stand awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop and look around. You notice a couple of people staring you down, their gazes fixed on you, some of them even being bold enough to do the old-fashioned up-and-down. You quickly divert your gaze and point toward a table right next to the large windows. Frankly, you’re used to the staring. They rarely came up to you since no one wanted to be the one known for enjoying porn. Especially in public. Most of the time they’re harmless. 

Walking towards your table, you cheat a glance at Joel. If he did notice the looks, he didn't say anything. He made no indication of discomfort or anything of the sort. Relief sprinkles over you, maybe the looks weren’t as obvious as you initially had thought. 

Joel took a seat and you sat across from him, he shot you a look before reaching for his black coffee, “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Just as he opens his mouth, you notice someone approaching in your peripheral. You hold your breath, eyes dropping to the bagels. The person, whoever it was, just stands at the end of the table. You feel the stranger’s eyes eating you up. Fuck, of all the times why now? 

“May we help you?” you hear Joel say, his tone the complete opposite of his words. When you look up at him from between your lashes, he’s staring at the stranger, the look dancing on the line of being a full-on glare. You take a slow breath and turn. 

It’s a young-ish man with blonde hair and brown eyes. Your first expression of him is that he seems kind. He doesn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence at all which you find impressive. Even across from him, you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Hi,” the man says kindly. “S-Sorry to bother you but are you Honeysuckle? On Ravish?” 

Joel visibly bristles at that. And, despite your better judgment, it turns you on. 

“Yup, that’s me,” you let out an awkward chuckle. He extends a hand and you quickly take it, wanting this to be done as soon as possible. 

“I love your streams!” 

“Thank you,” you smile with tight lips. “I appreciate your support.” 

“Can I get a picture?” 

Briefly, your gaze flits to Joel, a shadow crosses his face, eyes dark in warning. Your breath hitches a bit, skin prickling, some part of you wishes the hardened gaze was directed at you instead. 

You turn back to the man, “Sorry I don’t do pictures,” he seems visibly heartbroken by that so you quickly add. “But I can give you an autograph if it’s all the same to you.” 

Oh god, you hate when you have to put it like that. It makes you sound so full of yourself. You’re not a movie star. 

His eyes sparkle, “Thank you!” he pulls out a small notebook and hands it to you. “Can you make it out for Alex?” 

“Sure.” you quickly sign your name—well, not your name name but your stream name; Honeysuckle. You add a little heart next to the name and return the notebook. 

“Thank you!” he repeats, his genuine glee spreading in the air and caressing your skin. Your stomach does a small somersault as he walks away, clutching the notebook close to his chest. 

“Well, at least he was nice about it,” Joel grunts, finally taking a sip of his coffee. You’re not sure what to take from his response, or expression for that matter. Is he mad? You don’t think he is. You nearly jump out of your skin when his focused gaze suddenly snaps to you. “You alright?” 

“U-Uh, yeah,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “This kinda stuff happens. Most of the time they don’t say hi though.”

“So they just stare at you like a piece of meat?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” your voice is uncaring. Honestly, you’re used to it by now. It’s not like you had the most respectable job, at least, not according to most people. You can only imagine the comments you would get if you had Instagram, or if Ravish didn’t have a tight-proof system that allowed you to ban people on sight. You reach for your sandwich and take a bite, you chew slowly. 

Joel snarls, “Assholes.” 

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” you smile around your second bite. He seems almost offended by what you said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest. 

“Of course I did,” he huffed. “And why wouldn’t you want me to notice?” 

“I don’t know,” you truly didn’t. “I guess I didn’t want any hiccups to happen right after we decided to be. . . exclusive.” 

“Honey. . .” he gives you the tiniest smile, eyes full of care. “Don’t worry, people starin’ ain’t gonna get me packin’. Don’t you. . . don’t you know my feelings run deeper than that?” 

Joel's words hang in the air, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of reassurance. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he was the source of your worry, the reason for your unease. Yet, here he was, looking like he believed he was to blame for your discomfort.

You lower your gaze to your sandwich, suddenly feeling a weight on your chest that has nothing to do with the bagel. It's not that you doubt his feelings for you, but you've carried the weight of your own insecurities for years, and it's hard to let go of them all at once.

Tears threaten to well up, and you quickly blink them away, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the middle of the coffee shop. You take another bite of your sandwich, chewing mechanically as you try to compose yourself. The flavors of avocado and bacon mix on your tongue, but they seem tasteless compared to the swirl of emotions within you.

Joel's hand finds yours on the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. When you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, you're met with eyes that hold a storm of emotions. Concern, understanding, and a vulnerability that mirrors your own.

"You're not alone in this, you know?" he murmurs. 

You let out a shaky breath. You're not used to showing this side of yourself, not after so many years of self-preservation and guarding your heart and yourself.

"I guess I’m still not used to this yet" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not your fault at all, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with anyone. . . emotionally. I'm sorry if I made you feel responsible."

He leans across the table, his warm hand cradling your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb caressing your skin. "I get it, sweetheart. And you don’t need to apologize. We’re the same in that aspect, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either. Just. . .  know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

You lean into his hand, you’re feeling lighter already. 

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Besides," he mutters, sitting back. “I don’t run away from what’s mine.” 

Mine. 

One simple word. A noun of all things, is what makes you melt in your seat. It’s sobering. Waking you in a way that no amount of coffee ever could. Mine. He said that. You heard the possessive lilt laced with the word, almost daring you to object. You nearly do if you’re honest, shadows dance in his eyes, draw you in like a bunny rabbit sniffing a tempting trap. You want to take the bate. Sink your teeth into that carrot to see how he’ll react, the things he’ll do to prove just how true his words were. 

Instead, you clench your thighs together and propose something else instead. 

“Let me prove to you that I’m yours then,” you say. Eagerness caused Joel's eyes to widen, his jaw betraying his emotions with a subtle twitch. “In fact, let’s show the world.” 

No matter how vivid your imagination was, no matter how long you prepared and checked the equipment over and over again, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for Joel walking through your bedroom door.

You had picked out a form-fitting black button-up shirt for him to wear. The fabric hugged his biceps, the seams barely holding on. The shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest, the buttons doing a better job compared to the seams in holding everything together. However, you were certain if he stretched even a little, the shirt would rip with a satisfying pop. 

That isn't all, though. Your eyes move up from the shirt, your gaze tracing the lines of his body until they land on the striking green mask he's wearing.

The mask is a deep shade of forest green, with intricate gold detailing that seems to dance in the light. Swirls and patterns weave across the surface, accentuating the gilded flakes in his eyes. 

His brown eyes peer out from behind the mask, a slight awkwardness to his gaze that seems to lessen with the hunger of your stare. The contrast between the vibrant green and the warmth of his gaze draws you in like a moth to a flame. The mask frames his face perfectly,  showcasing his strong jawline and the facial hair that clings to his skin.

"I feel dumb," he mutters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “Isn’t there a way you can just make it so that my face is out of frame?” 

The mask had been his idea, he didn’t want to be recognized—rightfully so— and since he still wanted to stream. . . he bought himself a mask. 

Too bad he doesn’t realize the effect it has on you. Only if he could feel how wet you were for him, that’ll surely put him in a better mood. 

“Not really, we are going to be moving after all,” you answer. His gaze drops. “Joel, you look devastatingly hot right now.” 

His ears perk at that, eyes lifting to meet yours instantly. “Really?” 

"Come here," you manage to murmur, your voice laced with a mix of playfulness and longing. He obeys without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a matter of heartbeats. His hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilts your head up. His eyes, those deep pools of honey, lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away.

"Tell me," he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "What's on your mind?"

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to answer, your voice barely more than a breath. "You... the mask... everything. I can’t wait to feel you deep inside. Can’t wait for you to ruin me for everyone to see."

His lips curve into a smile, and he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs against your lips, "Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on leavin’ an inch of you not clingin’ with my come, darlin’.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your lips part with a soft gasp and he slips his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly laps at his thumb, drawing circles, begging for him to press deeper. Heat radiates off of him, suffocating you in the best way possible. Your eyes drop to his crotch, the outline of his cock visible despite the dark blue denim.

Joel grins and shifts his hips closer, teasing you with a promise of more. You close your lips around his thumb and swallow. You’re in a trance. Body and soul bewitched by his presence. Your breasts feel full and heavy, nipples tingling. 

“Go and start the stream, honey.” 

Tingles. All you feel are tingles as you get up and desperately head toward your setup. Your legs are shaking. His eyes burning holes into your bare back. A second later his palm is on your ass, stroking the plump flesh and teasing the elastic of your panties. You sigh, the fabric sticking to your folds. 

With practiced efficiency, you start up the stream, the familiar hum of your equipment filling the room. Almost immediately, comments begin flooding in, your "hive" eagerly joining the live broadcast. The chat scrolls rapidly, filled with excited greetings and bee-themed emojis, a testament to the unique community you've cultivated.

"Hey there, my busy bees!" you greet, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I hope you're all buzzing with excitement, because tonight we've got a special guest joining us."

You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker to the monitor. There he is, Joel, standing just behind you, his presence towering and captivating even though his head isn't visible on screen. The comments explode with excitement, the chat inundated with messages about how good he looks, how lucky you are, and playful exclamations about your "hunk of a guest” and how they can’t wait for him to “pump you full of his come”. A bit crass, but you can’t say you disagree. 

You continue, "But first, let's give a warm welcome to our newbies! Welcome to the hive, where we celebrate all things sweet and sticky." you wink at the camera and bend slightly over, wiggling your ass. Joel doesn’t waste any time moving directly behind you, hands on your waist as he pushes forward, making you feel the heft of his cock between your cheeks. A small moan escapes you, breasts swaying with his shallow grinds. 

“And now, without further ado,” you say breathless. “Let’s start the show. Our guest is an impatient one,” you hear Joel scoff behind you, the voice making your pussy bottom out. “Am I wrong, sir?” 

His nails bite into your flesh, showing you just how much he enjoys being called that. You smile as you stand up, giving one last look to the monitor to check everything is in place, you face Joel. You lean closer for a kiss, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves. He must be nervous. 

But before you can close the distance, he grabs your chin and pushes you back, just proving how wrong you are. Your eyes widen, the pressure he applies to hallow your cheeks emptying the oxygen in your lungs. “Not so fast,” he grunts. “On your knees, honey. Only good girls get kisses.” 

Your insides pulse with a vicious throb. His voice takes on a tone you've never quite heard before. It's deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very core of your being. His voice, deep and resonant, like thunder during a storm and wraps around you like a velvet cloak, warming you. As you slowly sink to your knees, your pulse quickens in response. 

A desperate, hushed rustling fills the room as a zipper is lowered and briefly, you steal a quick glance at the streaming setup, ensuring that everything continues to run smoothly. Joel’s head is still out of view, which you regret because you want everyone to see how good he looks in his mask—

His touch is a sudden and deliberate pull, “Eyes on me,” he growls, the bulbous head of his cock pressing against your lips. His fingers are wrapped around his impressive length, and instead of notching the head between your lips, he smacks your parted lips with it. A drop of precome stains your bottom lip, a string of it following the tip as he holds it above your face. Your eyes are glued to the masked figure above you. Despite the tone and the roughness, they’re just pools of soft honey, internally searching your face for any discomfort. 

Joel begins to stroke himself and with a heavy gaze, you part your lips wider and stick your tongue out for him to use you however he pleases. 

His dark chuckle makes your skin prickle with need. You come closer, dragging your tongue between his balls, nuzzling him sweetly. Joel curses above you and grips your shoulder, holding you back. 

“Sir, please,” you gasp, attempting to get close but his hand keeps you at a small distance. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, “Push those pretty tits together, sweetheart.” 

Desperate and dripping, you press them together with your arms. His cock comes from under, the head piercing your tits as it pushes from between them. Joel hooks his thumb in your mouth and you obediently suck around the digit as he begins to thrust. Neither of you breaks eye contact. 

Joel pushes himself further into you, driving his hips forward. His cock slides between your tits, filling your already open mouth with vigor as he rocks in and out of your ample cleavage. You moan around his thumb, the warmth of his precum dripping over your tongue. 

Your body rocks with each stroke, the pleasure radiating through your chest with each thrust. Your nipples throb with arousal, hard like diamonds, as he slams his rigid cock into your tits. Sweat beads on his forehead and he grits his teeth, “Keep them together,” he grunts as he pulls out, with the head, he smears drops of himself over your heated skin. 

Your eyes roll back at how possessive it is, the fact that everyone is watching already forgotten. “Good,” he says, pleased. He pulls away his thumb and drags it over your bottom lip. “You’re already so dumb for my cock, aren’t you. Eager to show your viewers how badly you want to be good for me hmm?” 

God, the tremors in his voice, that southern drawl. He’s going to be the death of you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, chest heaving. Ignoring the ache it causes in the back of your neck, you lean forward and manage to taste him on your skin. You moan as your eyes flutter closed, your own breath warm against you. “Want to be your good girl again, sir.” 

He pulls away from you completely, heading towards the bed. You stare at him blearily as he takes a seat, only coming to your senses when he hits his thigh, gesturing you to come over.  

Just as you’re about to sit, he stops you, clicking his tongue while lifting a hand. “First strip, darlin’. Turn to the camera,” you don’t miss the way he smiles as you turn on shaky legs, staring directly into the lens. “Have you already forgotten how to stream? My poor sweet dumb girl.” 

His words send you into a haze of submission. Needles stinging your back, you peel off your panties and bra, dropping them to the floor. “Good,” he hums. “Now sit on my lap, spread those legs so they can see how wet you got just from gettin’ her tits fucked.” 

Joel scoots further back and gives you space on the bed to place your feet. With heavy lids, you spread yourself for him—and the people who’re watching at home. Your front facing the camera. To expose yourself in such a way, it’s different compared to what you normally do. You have fun with Dieter but it’s never like this, never as intense. A shaky breath escapes you when Joel places a hand on the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. He’s staring at you through the monitor, jaw slack. Meanwhile, you’re just happy people can see his mask, those brown eyes. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his role forgotten. “Look at you. Fuck,” his lips touch your ear, whispering the rest of the words so it’s only you that can hear. “You never stopped bein’ my good girl. Just sayin’.” 

Your vision blurs with tears and you nod, his lips now on your cheek. He drags his mouth to your forehead and lays another kiss. “Now let’s give them a show.” 

Joel cups your ass as he helps you lift yourself, aligning himself against your sopping core, he slowly lowers you, filling you inch by inch. Your head falls back, mouth agape, you’ve forgotten how big he is, how satisfying it is to take him so slowly. His breath is hot on your nape. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Just like that, show them how good you take cock, honey.” 

 “‘S big,” you slur. “S–So big, sir.” 

He shushes you, lips moving over your cheek. “I know, honey I know,” he licks the salt off your skin. “But you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it.” 

Joel rears up, slowly pushing himself into you. His hands guide your hips to the right angle to let him slide deeper, your soft cries echoing through the air. 

“I am,” you gasp, delirious, his cock completely sheathed inside. “I am. I–I’m your good girl.” 

You twist around, straddling Joel as he takes both your hands and draws you close. His lips crash against yours, and you moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against him. Heaven help you, how can you take him like this with an audience? Images of all the people watching on your live stream dance in your mind, but it makes it all the hotter.

Your body rocks up and down as you ride him, your inner walls clenching around him. You’re panting and moaning, your body shaking as you pump harder.  You feel Joel shift beneath you, his grip tightening as you take him even deeper, arching your back and pushing your breasts out. You can feel his eyes on you, as well as the eyes of the viewers watching you live stream. His cock glistens with your slick, every time you lift yourself, the light catches against it, everyone watching seeing how worked up Joel gets you. 

You can feel Joel's warmth radiating throughout your body as he slides back and forth, gaining momentum as he thrusts harder. You stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering as pleasure overcomes you, your head humming with pleasure. Your body starts to slow, your muscles aching and trembling. 

Suddenly Joel grips your waist, fingertips leaving dents in your flesh. He growls in your ear, drops of spit hitting your neck. “Who told you to slow down?” he pulls your body against him, forcing himself deeper into you. Every inch of you is shaking as Joel's hips slam against yours. His fingers find your clit, drawing gentle, quick circles around the sensitive nub. You cry out, clenching around him. “Look into the camera,” he groans. “Want them to see your fucked out gaze when I make you squirt.” 

Your hands find purchase above his knees, the coil in your stomach tight, it’s too much. Too fucking much. Your head is swimming in a lavender haze, and before you know it, your cunt is pulsing around him, gushing and slowing his thrusts. You hear the faint pitter patters of a rain-like sound. 

You barely register the liquid spraying from you, your body hot and burning while Joel’s fingers continue to move. Your drip down his length and down the inside of his thighs, and he rips another, albeit calmer, orgasm from you.  

“Shiiiiiit,” he drawls. “Shit shit, honey, fuck, don’t move—” he makes a choked-out sound and spears you down flush on his cock. The sounds you make are completely debauched. A series of sir’s dropping from your lips, tongue aching to moan his name. You feel him spilling inside, so much, you think, so much of it filling you up. He’s still throbbing when he pulls out, gripping himself and ringing the last of it over your glistening cunt, drowning it in come. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur as he pushes it back in with the head of his length, you shudder around him. “So full,” you say, eyes dropping where you two connect through the reflection in the monitor. 

“Not done,” he mutters and helps you lift yourself over him, cock slowly softening. “Push it out darlin’. Show them how much there is to keep you satisfied.” 

“F-Fuck,” you let out a whimper, eyelids fluttering as his seed trickles out of you and drips over his length. You feel faint of heart, this probably being one of the filthiest things you’ve done on camera. 

“Good girl,” he says, eyes glued to the camera. “My good girl,” he repeats, cupping your mound and slipping one finger inside with ease. 

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, your body too weak to do anything. He walks up to the stream set up, his eyes flashing toward the camera one last time. “See y’all next time.” he taunts before shutting the entire thing off. 

He throws the mask to the ground near your discarded clothes. 

You don’t know what to think when he climbs onto the bed, mattress dipping with his weight before he pulls you to his chest. He kisses you slowly, taking his time as he tastes you. “Sorry,” he whispers into your mouth. “I think I might’ve gone overboard.” 

“No,” you sigh dreamily, still in a haze. “That was perfect. I—I don’t think I can walk for a while.” 

You let out a low chuckle and he smiles, pressing his lips into your forehead. 

“Well, good thing I’m here then.”  

[munsonsmixtapes]

Something dark... maybe like Eddie lived but was displaced by the Gov... and like 5 years later you find him.. in a little hole in the wall and maybe a little angst.. maybe a little smut maybe a little longing.. falling back together etc.. idk Something freaky fresh 🤪

Okay, I love this idea! But I’m going to change it a little if you don’t mind!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) fingering, angst, grief, whole lot of hurt/comfort

It had been five years since Eddie had passed away down to the day. It was a day that was one of the hardest of the year for you. It felt like it had just happened and the emotional wounds were still fresh, still exposed and you were hurting more than ever.

You had been going to therapy ever since, but the nightmares never stopped even though they were less frequent. You could still feel Steve pulling you away from Eddie while you watched his lifeless body lay there, covered in blood. You felt his hand let go of yours and the life left his eyes. You screamed his name over and over, but he never responded. He was officially dead.

The funeral was rough. The very few people who showed up sobbed the entire time and you all huddled together, vowing that you would be there for each other. And you were. You all had dinner together almost every night and it was pretty much the only thing you looked forward to in your life.

Every single year on the anniversary of Eddie’s death, you went to his favorite bar that was a few towns over and ordered his favorite drink to honor him. It was your own little tradition and everyone knew not to bother you while you spent the day by yourself while you mourned your dead boyfriend who very much should have been alive.

What you didn’t know what that Eddie was very much alive. After he had escaped the Upside Down, he had somehow stumbled upon a hospital that had nursed him back to health. He had no idea what had happened to everyone, so he decided that he wouldn’t call anyone and go into hiding to avoid the police no matter how much he wanted to see if you were okay.

He ended up heading to the town with the bar that he loved, knowing that he was far enough away from home that no one would recognize him. It was a win-win all around. But he missed you. He missed you so fucking much that he could hardly stand it and he felt so guilty for not contacting you and telling you the truth.

So, he dealt with it the only way he how. He drank away his problems. He’d go to the bar every day and order margarita after margarita and throw them back like they were water. Maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but it was the only way he knew how to deal with the pain.

You sat on your favorite stool and ordered a margarita, holding back your tears as you waited for your drink. You lowered your head so no one could see your face and your drink was set in front of you along with a plate of mozzarella sticks. You looked up at the bartender and he gave you a wink as he pushed the plate towards you.

“On the house. You look like you could use something comforting.” The nice gesture made you tear up even more. You weren’t hungry, but you felt like it would have been rude not to eat them, especially since he wasn’t going to make you pay for them.

“Thanks,” you smiled weakly. You took one of the sticks from the plate and took a bit despite your nausea and ate until the plate was empty. You hadn’t eaten anything that day because your grief had been taking up your thoughts.

“Of course,” he nodded then turned to take care of the customer who was sitting a couple of stools away from you. You turned to look at them and did a double take, absolutely sure that your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way that your dead boyfriend was sitting right there. It wasn’t possible.

You were sure that you were hallucinating. The guy looked like Eddie but it couldn’t be him. You missed Eddie so much that you were imagining him to make yourself feel better. Maybe if you reached out to touch him, you could confirm that it really wasn’t him. You just wanted to be sure so you could put it out of your mind and put your curiosity to rest.

You tried to get off your stool, but the whole thing ended up toppling to the floor, taking you with it. The loud sound of it hitting the hard wood made everyone turn to you. You weren’t sure why, but your ears were ringing. You couldn’t hear anything but muffled voices as everyone in the bar hovered over you to see if you were okay.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assured them as you sat up, actually telling the truth this time. Your arm hurt a little, but other than that, you were okay. You didn’t even care anyway, the man making his way towards the front of the crowd being the only thing on your mind.

Once they confirmed you were okay, everyone dispersed and went back to their tables, leaving you and the stranger alone. He was looking at you with wide eyes like he couldn’t believe you were there and your expression matched his. His eyes were watery as he reached up to touch your face, his thumbs wiping away your own tears.

“I knew it was you,” you told him, throwing yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, wrapping them around your waist tightly. You sobbed in each other’s arms for what felt like a while then pulled away, your lips attaching to his in a messy kiss. You tasted something salty and realized that it was the tears that you had both cried but that didn’t stop you from breaking apart until you both needed to catch your breath.

He took you by the hand and led you outside and down the block to an apartment building so the two of you could have some privacy. Part of you felt like you were in a very surreal dream but feeling his hand in yours made you realize that he was actually there. Right in front of you.

As happy as you were that he was alive, he had lied to you. For five years you thought he was dead and he had failed to contact you even though you were his fucking girlfriend. He had told you had he loved you in the Upside Down when he was dying in your arms, but apparently it wasn’t a lot since he had kept something like that from you.

He pulled you over to the elevator and pressed the button that would take the two of you up to his apartment. The doors opened not too long after and he pulled you inside, his lips attaching to yours once again. You felt a pit in your stomach and pushed him away, causing him to hit the wall.

“Still like it rough, huh?” He asked, his lips chasing yours, but you kept your hand on his chest, keeping him against the wall. Tears welled up in your eyes again and Eddie’s face softened, the lust completely gone from them. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You lied to me, Eddie. You’ve been alive this whole time and didn’t even think to contact me?”

“I was trying to protect you. I knew that the police would be after me if I came back to you. I know it was selfish and I’m sorry, so sorry, baby.” That made sense to you, but it didn’t make you feel any better. Did he think that you would tell anyone? Because you wouldn’t have. Not if he didn’t want you to. He had your full trust. Always.

“You still could have called me. I could have hid you just as well.” Eddie knew that and he wanted it so bad, but as time went on, the guilt was too much to bear and he couldn’t stand to see the look on your face when you found out that he was actually alive. The look you were giving him right now.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. You have no fucking idea.” His hands cradled your face and you let him wipe your tears away. “You can say anything you want to me right now and I won’t blame you. I’m a fucking dick-”

“You’re not a dick, Eddie. You were just doing what you thought was right. And as mad as I am right now, I’m just so fucking grateful that you’re alive.” You pulled him in for a kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. The elevator doors opened and Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. His hands held onto them as he carried you to his apartment, only breaking your kiss to fish his keys out of his wallet. Once the door was unlocked, he slammed it closed with his leg then attached his lips to yours once more.

You licked into his mouth as he set you down on the kitchen counter, neither one of you able to make it to his room. Your pants and underwear were off in a flash and Eddie spread your legs open to get a good look at your sopping wet cunt. You were nervous because you hadn’t shaved, but he didn’t seem to give a single fuck about that.

“Glad to know I can still get you so fucking wet,” he chuckled. “You’re soaked.”

“And desperate,” you replied breathlessly. If he didn’t do something right then, you were going to have to take care of it yourself. “Haven’t fucked anyone in five years.”

“Me neither, sweetheart. Gonna need to open you up, huh?”

“Eddie, hurry,” you urged and as soon as the words left your mouth, he shoved his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh,” you moaned, realizing just how much you missed the feeling. Your fingers didn’t do the job nearly as well as Eddie’s.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight,” he commented as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Gonna be good as new when I’m done with you.”

“So good,” you whined, leaning your head back, your eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie fucked his fingers in and out of you.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, angel,” he urged. “Haven’t even gotten inside of you yet.” His fingers moved harder and faster inside of you and you came undone at the feeling, forgetting just how good it felt to have him do that sort of thing to you.

“Need your cock, Eddie.”

“Don’t have any condoms.” That was the least of your worries. You needed him right then.

“I don’t care. I haven’t fucked anyone and neither have you and I’m still on birth control. So let’s do this.”

“Still needy for me, huh? Some things never change.”

“Eddie, hurry up before I care of it myself.” Your eyes bored into his and he got rid of his jeans and boxers, his dick springing free. It was bigger than you remembered and you wondered if it would even fit.

He lined himself up with your cunt and pounded into you, his lips meeting yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue scraping against yours as he continued to pound into you. You moaned into his mouth and the sound was just as delicious as he remembered. His lips moved to your neck as he hips bucked against yours so his mouth wasn’t muffling the sounds falling from your lips.

“Feel so good, baby. Still know how to take me so well,” he whined. “God, you’re so hot.”

Your back arched as he moved faster, his dick hitting just the right spot to make you melt. You were already reaching your orgasm and he had barely even done anything. Your vision went hazy from absolute euphoria he kept going and his moans were doing wonders for your already sopping wet pussy.

“Look so hot taking my cock, baby. Guess I’ve still got it.”

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna-” you finally reached your climax and felt embarrassed that it was so quick, but Eddie was not long after you, his body leaning over yours as he reached his own peak.

“Guess I did too,” he chucked, as he wiped the sweat from your forehead. “Did so well, sweetheart,” he praised as he pressed his lips to yours. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

“We can work through it,” you rubbed your thumb along his cheek. “I know it’s still daylight, but can we please go to bed?”

“Sure we can, sweetheart.” He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up and once you were all done, you both got into the bed and got the best sleep of your life because you both were finally reunited. And there was no way that Eddie was going to let you go ever again.

[tummy-stuffing-king]

going to a fair and making sure not a single food stall goes unvisited. you love fair food right? let's start with a funnel cake, I know you can't bear to wait for it. still pretty hungry? well it's a good thing there's a hotdog stand just next door. and while we're over here we may as well pick up a serving for deep fried oreos. they're just right there, it'd be a shame to pass them by.

oh, you're feeling a bit full? how about we walk around for a while, visit the petting zoo and look at some performers. but of course you have to have a stick of cotton candy at the fair. And I'll get a bag of candied nuts, just to have something on hand while we wander. hm, it looks like they've disappeared while I wasn't looking. how strange.

are you not feeling quite so full anymore? excellent, we wouldn't want to pass up any of these delicious foods. look! that stall is selling donut burgers, we just have to go try them. no no, just get one, we can share. no, a couple of bites was plenty for me, thank you so much though. by the way, do you smell that? fresh made onion rings! I know you're not at all hungry anymore, but look at that. A plate of chili cheese fries that loaded cannot go untasted.

I'm so careless, it's so hot outside and you haven't had a sip to drink! here, let me get you something. it seems they only sell sodas by the half gallon. all the better to keep you hydrated, my dear. why don't we go sit down and watch the band while you finish that, and then I'll go get you a refill. These things are important, after all. I brought back a sundae with me. I thought it might be just the thing to cool you down. just sit back and enjoy it, dear. I'll help massage out some of that soreness.

are you ready to walk around again? how about we go play some games? I'll win you some prizes. let's grab a pretzel and some mozzarella sticks to have on hand as we go. here, you hold them while I do the ring toss. I've won you a teddy bear! you look just like each other

hm, it is getting pretty late, but there are only a couple things we haven't tried, and the fair won't be back for another year! I'd hate to miss out on them. you think you can manage a few more? okay, just wait here! I'll bring you and teddy back one last round. and another drink, of course.

here we are, just the last handful of stalls. I have some pizza slices, thick, syrupy waffles, some fried pickles, churros, street corn, and a bowl of hushpuppies. why don't I help you to finish them? just sit back in your chair and let the bites come to you. keep your hands on that grumbly tummy of yours. I can't imagine how you could still be hungry, but I don't want to take you home without having eaten your fill. that just wouldn't be fair.

wow, look at you. that must be some kind of superpower to finish all that food so well. the rides and stalls are shutting down, and they're beginning to push people toward the exit. let's head home, and you can lay down and I can help you digest all that wonderful food. can you stand up? oof, there you go. just lean into me, keep that hand right there on your belly. It's poking out a bit beneath your shirt. I got you another drink, by the way for the ride home.

just settle right in to the passenger seat. I'll undo your pants for you. doesn't that feel good? we'll be back home soon. finish your drink

[drpeppertummy]

Morty and marianne would be intriguing. :3c

i triedddd idk if i did either of them justice but i triedd

[hunger, stuffing]

Morty's belly rumbled as he pondered the extensive menu. It was a late Sunday night, so late that there was next to nobody in the little diner. It was strange to be there when it was so quiet; he normally went during the daytime, when it was noisy and busy and crowded. Now, where there would ordinarily be too much chatter and clatter to hear himself think, he could hear only soft music coming through the radio, punctuated occasionally by a little bit of noise from the kitchen. And, of course, his stomach.

Unable to process the ridiculous diner menu, Morty was just about to close his eyes and pick something at random when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a large, sturdy waitress smiling down at him, tall and broad, with a look in her eye that reminded him of a cat who's just cornered a mouse. He returned the smile.

"And how are you doin' tonight, cutie pie?"

"Starving," he answered honestly, and she laughed.

"I'll bet," she grinned. "I could hear your tummy growling all the way from over there. Don't you worry, sweetheart, you'll be lucky if you're not stuck in the booth by the time you're done."

Morty liked the friendly waitress--Marianne, her name was--and he was a little disappointed when she finally left the table with his order. After some hemming and hawing, she'd talked him into spaghetti with a side of broccoli and a baked potato, a bowl of Manhattan clam chowder, and an appetizer of mozzarella sticks on top of it all. You look like you could use a little extra, she'd teased, and he'd laughed and agreed. He was a scrawny little thing; weight just never seemed to want to stick to him.

It wasn't long before Marianne returned with the chowder and a Shirley Temple, and Morty perked up a little at the sight of her. His belly rumbled loudly as she set the bowl down before him. She giggled, and he smiled sheepishly up at her, a soft blush creeping onto his face.

"You better get eating," she said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'll have your mozzarella sticks out in a few minutes. You go ahead and start filling that poor tummy up before it eats itself!"

Morty watched her go, still blushing, then gladly obliged. His empty stomach welcomed the hot chowder with open arms, the gnawing ache of hunger slowly fading as he wolfed it down. While his noisy belly made it plenty clear that he was hungry, he hadn't realized just how ravenous he'd been until the bowl sat empty before him not two minutes after Marianne had brought it out. His tummy felt taut after eating so quickly. He felt a gurgle bubble up inside him and just barely managed to stifle an enormous burp. His stomach deflated noticeably--he'd swallowed more air than chowder in his frenzy--and he let out a soft little sigh of relief.

"I bet that felt good," remarked Marianne, and Morty jumped. He hadn't noticed her approaching. He looked up, startled, and she laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sweetpea, I didn't mean to scare you," she chuckled, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "I hope you saved some room for your appetizer, because they're nice and hot." She took her hand from his shoulder--he found himself missing it quickly--and replaced the empty bowl with a plate of mozzarella sticks. He wasn't nearly as hungry as he had been when he'd first walked in, but his mouth watered at the sight of them. Marianne smiled, amused and enamored by the way his big dark eyes followed them.

"I was worried that chowder was gonna fill you up," she teased. "I'm glad you still look ready to eat. I'll be back in a little bit with your dinner, alright, pumpkin? Make sure you save a little room." Morty nodded obediently, then, after she left him once more, gladly dug into the appetizer.

The mozzarella sticks were exactly as good as they looked. They were fresh and hot, as Marianne had said, and they were perfectly melty and stringy and crisp. The marinara was particularly good as well. Having sated his immediate hunger, Morty ate more slowly now, making sure to enjoy his food; it wasn't often he had such good mozzarella sticks. They were one of the few things he was picky about. If they were just a hair too cold, if the cheese was a smidge too firm, if the breading was a touch too soggy, he couldn't stand them, but these were some of the best he'd ever had.

By the time he finished his appetizer, Morty was feeling comfortably full. His belly felt warm and snug, and he could've called it quits right then and there and left perfectly content. Right then and there wasn't the time to quit, though, because no sooner had he finished than Marianne returned with his dinner.

"Hope you're not too full yet, because this smells fan-tastic," she beamed, sweeping away the empty plate and replacing it with the spaghetti, a vegetable on either side of it. The dish seemed dauntingly large, but the cozy aroma of it wafting up around him enticingly made his mouth and his stomach yearn.

"Y'know, that sweater seems awfully big on you," she teased, her voice dropping almost to a whisper as she leaned in closer. "I bet we could fill it out a little before you go, what do you think?" Morty blinked up at her, caught off guard, then grinned.

"I'm taking that as a challenge," he said, picking up his fork, and Marianne laughed and patted his back approvingly.

"Alright, that's what I like to hear! Eat up, cutie pie," she said, smiling brightly.

Morty took care to pace himself as he ate, not wanting to push his small stomach to its limit too quickly. He picked at his vegetables here and there, but his main focus was on the pasta. It felt hot, heavy, and bulky in his belly, which tightened ever so slightly with each swallow, but it wasn't an uncomfortable presence. He found pasta easy to eat a lot of, particularly when it wasn't overly rich, and the spaghetti, perfectly coated in a delicious tomato sauce, went down like a dream. Still, the portion was enormous, and he'd barely made a dent when he found himself slowing down.

He paused for a moment, holding one hand against his belly. It poked out round and taut. It didn't ache yet, but he could feel the discomfort looming on the horizon, and he knew he'd have to be careful if he wanted to finish a substantial amount of his dinner. As swollen as his belly felt, it was barely visible under his oversized sweater. He'd have a ways to go if he wanted to fill it out like Marianne asked.

"Oh, don't tell me you're full already," Marianne pouted, approaching the table.

"I'm just getting started," Morty lied confidently.

"Oh, good," she said, smiling slyly at him. "You had me worried for a second there!"

Morty was, in fact, full, but he wasn't going to let that stop him; not yet, at least. Determined, he dipped his fork back into the spaghetti and pushed on. His stomach felt undeniably and strikingly overstuffed now, stretching tighter and tighter as he forced more pasta into it, and the snug waist of his pants was beginning to grow uncomfortable as it hugged his bulging middle tightly. He could feel his belly bumping out against the soft fabric of his sweater, though, and he supposed Marianne would be happy about that. The thought made his heart flutter.

He rested a hand atop his belly as he ate, a little surprised at how sharply it curved outward under his chest. His stomach ached now, and that was no surprise; Morty was a small man, and his belly wasn't built to hold so much. The pressure inside it was tremendous. He paused again for a moment, bringing a hand to his mouth as he forced up a small burp. It didn't help much. His stomach was packed tight as a drum and then some with a solid mass of food.

Morty supposed he ought to quit before he made himself sick, but for some reason--maybe it was the crush he was rapidly developing--he wanted to give Marianne his best effort. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, then leaned back in his seat, snuck his hands under his sweater, and unbuttoned his pants. The waist was pulled so tight around his belly that he had to suck it in to get enough slack to undo the button, a feat he could barely achieve at this point. His sweater was fortunately big enough to hide his open fly--he doubted he'd be able to get it back together again--but no longer big enough to hide the disproportionate curve of his distended tummy poking out from his skinny frame.

"Ooh, sweetie pie, you are looking stuffed," Marianne remarked, looking delightedly at his belly as she sauntered back over to the booth. "I think that cute little tummy's gonna pop if you eat much more." Morty couldn't argue with that. His stomach felt like it was straining to hold itself together around the enormous meal. Marianne leaned in close, a sly look on her face, and he looked up at her, his big dark eyes locking with hers.

"I bet you could fit just a tiny bit more though," she said, her voice soft and low. "What's your name, honey?"

"Morty," he responded, suddenly feeling a little shy.

"Morty," she repeated fondly. "Think you can squeeze in a little bit more, Morty? I'd hate to see you leave without eating your fill."

Morty thought about it, resting a cautious hand on his belly. It was taut and firm, pushing out hard, and he would've sworn he could feel the vibration of his stomach's restless gurgles under the tightly-stretched skin. He wasn't sure he could fit any more. His face felt warm under Marianne's stare, though, and he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. He nodded. She smiled approvingly, then gave his bulging side a gentle pat.

"You're a doll." She stood upright, squeezed his shoulder affectionately, and left him blushing and bewildered. He watched her go, feeling almost hypnotized, then returned his attention to the rest of his spaghetti. As he picked up his fork, he noticed Marianne out of the corner of his eye, watching him as she slowly wiped down the counter across the restaurant.

His stomach let out an uneasy gurgle as he twirled up a forkful of spaghetti, almost as if to beg him not to eat any more, but he ignored it. His belly groaned as he swallowed the big bite, and he thought he could feel it push out further as it strained around the new addition. Slowly, he managed another bite, and then another. The pressure inside his tummy was becoming unbearable. It was rock solid, far too full to suck in, and ached badly now, stretched well beyond its comfortable limit. He didn't think he could hold any more. Still, he was determined to get down one last bite.

His hand faltered as he scooped up one last bite. He stuck it in his mouth and chewed, but almost couldn't bring himself to swallow. Finally, reluctantly, he did, and his stomach gurgled miserably as it hit its absolute limit. He set down his fork and leaned back in his seat with a groan, looking down at his belly. It bulged out absurdly, and he felt certain that his pants would've popped open on their own by now if he hadn't unbuttoned them himself. It was so swollen that he barely had the space to inhale, and it quivered unsteadily with each shallow breath.

"Well, I'm impressed," said Marianne, leaning against the seat opposite Morty. "I'll tell you, Morty, I didn't think you'd get that much in there. Course, I don't think you're even gonna be able to get up, but that's alright. Now, how about some dessert before you go?" Morty groaned and let his head fall back against the seat, and she laughed.

"I'm just teasing, cutie pie," she giggled, stepping forward and patting his belly as she passed. "I'll go ahead and grab you a box."

[algolagniaa]

Lemon, blue lake, turquoise blue, & olive green!

if I can afford it my comfort food is Mongolian bbq with zucchini + broccoli + cilantro + tomatoes + California hot peppers + extra chili + extra garlic. if I can’t it’s pasta with pesto + mozzarella + fresh tomatoes

not sure I ever want to settle down tbh I always want to be doing things and trying things and having new adventures. before I die I def want to backpack across Central America. I have a whole list of places I want to visit actually. and I want to see the northern lights and I want to learn to ride a motorcycle and I want to go skydiving and cliff diving. and I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip and visit every haunted location across America. and of course I want to write a book. and the other thing. might fuck around and start a cult too.

I MISS GARDENING SO MUCH I want potatoes + tomatoes + snap peas + strawberries + hot peppers + wildflowers again + sunflowers + maybe a lilac bush or two

other than my textbooks (😭) I’m reading the cuckoo’s calling as you know. I don’t love it but I like it so far. jkr’s writing feels like a warm comforting embrace

[eshidu]

I remember you said something in tags a long time ago about how it’s more efficient to order bigger pizzas due to how they do sizes, and I’ve lived my life by that ever since.

Omg yaaay I love to hear that lolol

So so glad my random food knowledge has come in handy! (Via more pizza yahooo!!) I'm sure the pizza places you order from appreciate your consistency

Here's some more of my favorite food tips to give out that no one asked for UwU

- if you cut spicy peppers, rub a pea-worth of neutral oil (canola) on your hands, then just as much dish soap before actually washing your hands w water. The capsaicin binds w the oil and comes off easier!

- if youre making your own spaghetti/tomato based pasta but don't wanna add too much sugar, you can let your sauce simmer with big slivers of orange peels to help sweeten it! The orange works well against the spices. (A splash of orange juice also rly boosts the flavors in banana bread, zucchini bread, pumpkin bread, and even tomato soup!)

- a little pinch of lemon zest in garlic butter, specifically for garlic bread, is an absolute game changer

Actually maybe I should provide more food ordering tips, so

- for a cheaper pumpkin spice latte dupe at starbux, order a blonde roast coffee w cream/milk of choice, and two pumps of the pumpkin syrup

- instead of a big Mac, order a mcdouble with bigmac sauce and lettuce. You'll miss the middle bun, its otherwise the same for cheaper.

- for McDougal again, if you're gonna get a quarter pounder, order it first so the grillcooks can toss it on right away; they're typically made to order cuz they don't sit well (smallify under their own weight coupled w the heat lamps, so they're rarely made beforehand)

Here's more pizza stuff courtesy of my partner from their pizza manager days:

- pizza actually freezes really well! Order extra and freeze it, heat it up in the oven 350 for about 8min for a whole pizza

- you can ask for your pizza well done if you want your cheese golden instead of just melty

-if they have fresh parm, ask for it to be added AFTER the bake, else it just blends into the mozzarella (unless that's how you like it, but you're missing out on richer parm flavor)

- if you order spinach, ask them to put it between the sauce and the cheese- under the cheese specifically, and it won't burn during the bake.

And lastly, my ultimate fastfood wisdom:

How to make Wendy's frosty:

- 14oz sweetened condensed milk

- 8oz cool whip, still firm/cold

- 8cups or half gal 1% chocolate milk

- 1 Tablespoon vanilla extract

Blend together till smooth and freeze for about 4hrs

You'll likely wanna blend in two batches since most blenders only hold about 8 cups to begin with, but there ya go! :3

[nancypullen]

Fabulous Friday

Today was a fantastic day.  My sister came to town. We have so much fun together, we laugh ourselves silly, and we just get each other.  Gosh, that’s good for my soul.  We tried to take selfie.

Our hair is telling you that it was a rainy day.  The McGlaughn girl hair is more reliable than doppler radar.  My Twinkie colored hair (half yellow, half white) is the bane of my existence, but I’m determined to see it through. I’m a granny, don’t judge me.  Look at my lovely sister. She’s always had flawless skin, ringlets, and an adventurous soul.  She’s what you’d call a once-in-a-lifetime woman. Unsinkable. Anywayyyy, today has apparently been all about FOOD.  I feel like I never want to eat again.  We had lunch at Earth Tones Cafe and gobbled up their Chesapeake Artichoke Bagel. It’s an open-faced toasted bagel topped with a mixture of artichoke hearts, spinach, cream cheese, mozzarella, parm, red pepper flakes, and Old Bay seasoning.  Holy Cow.  Earth Tones is a vegan cafe but this did not feel like a healthy choice....delicious, yes, but probably not on the American Heart Associations recommended list.  We made a couple of stops around town and our final stop was Craft Bakery because Mickey had asked me to bring him one of their maple-vanilla lattes.  Well, who goes into a bakery and just buys coffee? Not this girl. Two toffee bars, two blackout cookies, and one brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart later, we left.  I tell myself that I only buy baked goods as decor.  I love having a few things under this cake dome, just because it’s pretty.

That doesn’t explain why there’s a blackout cookie missing.  I won’t touch the toffee bars or the pop-tart but those deep chocolate cookies with a sprinkle of sea salt....they call to me. I wish she’d stop making  them.  My thighs can’t take it.   That said, my thighs walked me right up the steps to the Culinary Arts  Center to collect the bowl I painted a couple of weeks ago.  I’d participated in a fundraiser by paying to paint a bowl, and part of the price included a container of soup from Shore Gourmet when I picked up my bowl.  The bowls had been fired and I ran by to get mine.  My bowl turned out okay (I didn’t have enough time!) but I’m very pleased with the soup I chose.  Perfect for these chilly, wet days.

YUM! After the tasty lunch and that chocolate cookie, I figured I’d better make a veggie heavy dinner.  Taco bowls with cauliflower rice!  My stovetop was busy. Black beans simmered with onion, salt, cumin, a couple splashes of hot sauce, and a little water, cauliflower rice in a skillet sautéing with a sprinkle of salt and a blast of chili powder (fresh cilantro would is perfect in this, but I didn’t have any handy), and another skillet with lean ground turkey seasoned with all the taco spices.

Add some veggies and it’s a tasty bowl!

This is one of my favorite quick dinners - full of flavor and checks most boxes for a healthy dinner meal.  Bonus, there’s usually enough left for lunch. Thankfully, tomorrow morning we’re scheduled for a guided hike (more of a walk) at the arboretum. Always informational, but mostly I need to log some steps (and eat some salads).  I’m hoping that all of the laughing today counts as an ab workout.  If only.  If that counted as a workout I’d be thin as a rail with washboard abs.  I laugh a lot but those blackout cookies don’t care. That’s it, my wonderful Friday - time with my sister and too much food. I’m a lucky duck.  I hope that your Friday has been good for your soul.  If not, I hope the weekend fills the gap.  If all else fails, eat a cookie. Sending out some love tonight. Take what you need.

Stay safe, stay well.

Nancy  

[umichenginabroad]

Week 9: Food, Glorious Food

Buongiorno every one!

If you couldn’t guess by the title, this week's blog is going to focus on Italian food and the culture differences surrounding meals. Before arriving, this topic came up several times during my research in various “culture shock” and “what to expect in Italy” articles, yet experiencing it first hand still took me a bit by surprise.

My main shock came from the eating pace. I was used to mealtime essentially being an interruption of the day’s activities. I would always rush to eat so I could get back to whatever was keeping me busy, whether that be homework assignments, club work, or other activities. Here, mealtime is the activity. You are supposed to slow down, relax, and enjoy the company you are with. Turns out, this was much easier said than done. Only in the last few weeks have I been able to eat slowly and sip my drink without it taking conscious effort. I have come to appreciate mealtime as something more than simply fueling my body; it is a time to connect with the people around you and just enjoy life.

(Left picture of a prosciutto pizza, right picture of pomodoro bruschetta)

It is not uncommon for dinner to take 3+ hours, and this is completely normal if not expected. Service from waitstaff is very different here because of this. In the States, waiters constantly check up on you and push the bill in your face as soon as, if not before, you finish eating because the faster people leave, the faster someone else can take that table, resulting in more tips (which their paycheck relies almost exclusively upon). In Italy, waiters are paid a livable hourly wage. Tips are appreciated for good service, but not expected like tipping culture back home. After giving you a menu, waiters will leave you alone unless you call them over; if a waiter keeps coming over it is seen as them trying to rush you out which is a very rude violation of the long mealtime sactinty. While I have now come to appreciate the lack of interruptions, the first few times my friends and I ate out, we were waiting at the table for a long time before we ordered and even longer before we got the bill since we were used to it being automatically brought over instead of having to flag someone down.

(Left picture of a caprese salad, right picture of spaghetti carbonara)

To save on some food expenses, I cooked a lot of my own meals. This is where living above the grocery store came in especially handy! Money wise, a meal out is very comparable to eating out in Ann Arbor - average ~12-15 euro for a meal, but you can find cheaper places if you are looking (you can get a margherita pizza for 7-8 euro, for example). I was surprised to find that groceries were cheaper here, costing me around 20-25 euro per week, even with me cooking the majority of meals. The biggest difference is the quality of food, especially fresh food. It tastes and feels much cleaner and healthier due to the lack of preservatives and other additives we are used to in the States but are banned over here. The drawback is that the food spoils much quicker. The first time I went grocery shopping, I bought too much at once and had to throw some of it away because it went bad. Now, I shop for 2-3 days at a time to ensure I do not have to waste any of the delicious, local sourced tomatoes, fruit, or mozzarella cheese.

(Sweet treats! On the left is gelato from my favorite gelateria, on the right sweet breakfast crepes)

As I’m sure everyone knows, Italy is famous for its pasta, pizza, and gelato. As a big fan of all three, I can confidently say the hype is well-deserved. The pasta is delicious, the pizza is fabulous, and I don’t think I could ever have “too much” gelato. With Sorrento being world-renowned for lemons, lemon sorbet quickly became my favorite gelato flavor (I will be getting it several times still before I leave this weekend). Italian food will forever hold a special place in my heart, and I am sure I will greatly miss it when I leave. I can’t believe I am heading into my final week, but it’s sure to be a fun one full of activities so stay tuned!

Marika Ruppart

Mechanical Engineering

Engineering in Sorrento, Italy

[thedisneychef]

Tutto Italia's Lasagna Al Forno Recipe: An Authentic Italian Dish

If you're a fan of Italian cuisine, you're probably familiar with the mouthwatering flavors of lasagna. And if you've had the pleasure of dining at Tutto Italia Ristorante in Epcot's World Showcase at Walt Disney World, then you know that their Lasagna Al Forno is a dish that's not to be missed. Fortunately, you don't have to travel all the way to Disney World to indulge in this delicious dish. With this Lasagna Al Forno recipe, you can recreate the same rich and hearty flavors of Tutto Italia's signature dish in your own kitchen. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Avoiding Kitchen Bloopers: Perfecting Kona Sweet Bread - Lemon Garlic Shrimp Spoodles Recipe: A Delicious and Easy Meal - Kona Cafe’s Macadamia Pineapple Pancakes: Recipe with Sauce This classic Italian dish features layer upon layer of tender pasta, creamy ricotta cheese, flavorful meat sauce, and melted mozzarella cheese. The recipe also includes a secret ingredient that sets this lasagna apart from others - a touch of nutmeg, which adds a warm and slightly sweet flavor to the savory dish. Whether you're looking to impress guests at a dinner party or simply craving a comforting and satisfying meal, Tutto Italia's Lasagna Al Forno recipe is sure to hit the spot. So grab your apron and get ready to cook up a taste of Italy in your own home. Lasagna. Everybody loves it.  Right? Wrong. I don’t like lasagna.  I’ve never liked lasagna.  I don’t buy it, I don’t order it, I honestly can’t remember the last time I even ate lasagna.  I’m just not a fan. So what is somebody to do when they hear around dinnertime “I’m in the mood for a good lasagna tonight…” when they’re such a non-fan of the dish that, when put on the spot, they’re not even sure how to make it? Time to look to find that magical Disney recipe. If there was ever a recipe for something that could turn a food I don’t like into something I can make and actually enjoy, it would be a Disney recipe. I’d hoped, hoped, hoped that I had a recipe from Wolfgang Puck Express, but I actually came up with the next best thing. A Wolfgang Puck-inspired dish from Tutto Italia Ristorante. So, the things I learned about lasagna by making this dish…First and foremost, there is such a thing as a lasagna that I adore, and this is it. It’s apparently very non-traditional in terms of American-style lasagna, but very classic, authentic Italian. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much. There were a lot of great flavors, not weighed down by heavy ricotta or cheese. I could taste the tomatoes, the meat, all the spices. Seriously, it was awesome. Even the leftovers were spectacular. This was unlike the lasagna I’ve had before. It was hearty, it didn’t fall apart or disintegrate, and it wasn’t oily or greasy… If all lasagna tasted like this, maybe I’d like it more. The second thing that I learned… Making lasagna from scratch is easy, though complicated, and it makes A LOT of dishes. And it’s a major investment in time. My stove and dishwasher got quite the workout. Just think if I’d made the pasta, like they do on-site. Holy cow. I really stuck to the recipe on this one, though I did use dried herbs instead of fresh (again, NH in the winter means no good fresh herbs). I’ll admit I ran out of the pomodoro sauce because I over-sauced the meat and the bottom of the pan, so I couldn’t top the lasagna with a decent layer of sauce before I baked, or dress it after I’d cut and plated it. Next time, I’ll probably make more, or be a little lighter on how I sauce everything. I did, however, sauce the slices I served with some of the sauce drippings from the pan, and that was brilliant and tasty, if I do say so myself. So this is my exception to my “I don’t like lasagna” rule. It’s time consuming and makes a mess in the kitchen, but I think if I want to impress people with an amazing dish, this is a great choice. ~~~~  °o°  ~~~~ In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

[dovesofcedar]

About Me Tag

Tagged by @edaworks! Well, these are ambiguous enough that I’m willing to share. Time to learn a little about Cedar, and how much of a nostalgic sap I am!

❤️ Last song you listened to?

‘Desperado’ by the Eagles.

My husband picked up a new acoustic recently and played this tried and true for me. He played this for me when we were dating and I swear, I got just as teary eyed, hearing it 10 years later. :’) I don’t care how stereotypical it sounds, I’m a damn romantic. 

🧡 Ideal pizza toppings?

I can tear up some pizza, but my failsafe is something simple, preferably with lots of vegetables. Give me some sliced tomato, mozzarella, fresh basil, and just enough sauce for flavor, and I’m in heaven. 

If I’m in the mood for something with a little kick, I love a good buffalo chicken pizza, with a swirl of ranch or blue cheese on top.

💛 Dream vacation:

I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland. The architecture. The scenery! I would be perfectly happy if I ‘got lost’ there, and missed my flight back home. Leave my happy ass to paint plein air for the rest of my life, please.

💚 Earth, air, fire, or water?

Hmm... I think I’d have to go with Earth. Since I was a kid, probably 3 or so, my mom had me gardening with her. She gave me my love of plants and cultivating my own food, flowers, trees, and habitats for insects and animals. Sinking your hands into the ground, turning earth with too much clay into a rich soil, watering something that will one day be beautiful and bountiful... It just doesn’t get any better than that. 

💙 Cartoon you grew up on?

Freaking ‘Spongebob’. I don’t know what the show’s like now (is it even still running?), but the original seasons/episodes were *chef’s kiss*. I could go back to this day, and still enjoy it.

💜 Favourite scent?

I have a handful. It’s hard to choose, because they all mean something so special. 

Pine needles. I have fond memories of walking through a park, in the peak of autumn, on a pine tree lined path. Your footsteps are silent and any conversation you may have had would fall into obscurity as you got lost in this special place. You could only hear the sound of your own breath, and smell the sharp, sweet scent of pine sap all around you.

Wood smoke. Whenever I catch a hint of smoke while driving, I get a pang of longing in my chest. For camp fires after a long hay ride. For the bonfire at a festival that was so large, security had to come over and tell us not to put any more wood on the pyre. For gathering up all the month’s collected mail and burning it once it got dark.

And the marsh... This one is my absolute favorite, and one that I don’t think too many people will understand. I grew up in a marsh. Our house sat just high enough to avoid any flooding. To most people, it would probably smell like decay, and by all means, they’re right. There’s an underlying scent of sulfur, mixed with mud and brackish water, especially when the tides went out. But there’s also the brightness of fresh vegetation in the spring and musty leaf rot in the fall... It’s just... Something special that always brings me back to my roots when I visit home, and drive through the narrow roadways that always seemed to be flooded...

[francesderwent]

reblog this and tag with a food you no longer have access to (closed restaurant, state you moved away from, ex’s mom’s cooking, etc) that will haunt you until your dying day, mine are the spicy chicken sandwich on the employee menu at the fine dining restaurant I was a prep cook at, and the onion bagel from the kosher place down the street from my house when I lived in the city

[algesalges]

Vers Moi: Part 7

Chamber x Reader

Chamber x Reader

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Warnings: Suggestive writing, kissing, swimming, slight drowning? def some spelling errors, dm if there are any more and pls ENJOY

A lot of thoughts were flooding through your head. Finally Chamber mustard up to ask you out. But what's intriguing is where is he even going to take you? You didn’t even get any information on what to wear. Now you have to think that this is Chamber, so maybe a dress would do. You picked a nice flowy dress that exposes only your shoulders. You wait idly by to see if you receive anything from Chamber.

You hear a knock on the door, not sure who it is. You don’t attempt to open it, instead hiding away from it. The possibilities that it could be Brim, Sage or Viper is probable. A few more knocks, you waited for a voice to arrive, ”y/n, it's Joon-Hee”. You sigh in relief and open the door.

“AH, you look so good!”.

It was a bit confusing why Jett just didn’t sneak into the vents as she normally does. You were waiting for the Chamber. Before you could ask Jett anything she grabs your hands, afraid of anyone in the halls to see you, Jett swept you off your feet and dashed through.

You didn’t know where she was taking you but the swift and thrilling speed of Jett made you giggle as the speed tickled your stomach. After a few more dashes Jett landed you onto your feet. You seemed to have found yourself at the bottom of headquarters. No one really comes by except Skye when she joins for missions and stays over to the pool or the garden. It was important that Valorant met the needs for the agents, knowing that they’ve all shared their past, and it was nice to have areas that felt similar to home to them.

There was a small botanical area at one of the balconies, and a pool that nobody uses unless for exercise or Jett and Phoenix go splash each other. And that is where you stood.

The door to the swimming area which is quite off, you do not match the proper attire to swim. Jett dashes back leaving you at the door.

You slowly open it, peering through before entering. You saw a glimmering light. You fully opened the door to see candle light and a table set. A well dressed Phoenix (insert Phoenix with a bowtie) encouraging you to come closer. He pulls you a chair and pushes you closer to the table, he sets a plate of charcuterie in front and pours you some wine and into the other glass. The only thing missing was your suitor. You took a sip looking down at the plat of small tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and dry aged slices of meat, with other assortments of treats on the plat. Your eyes dart back upwards to see a dashing sight. The charming man took a seat in front of you.

“Does everything suit your tastes”?

“I believe this is far from what I expected”, you smiled while taking another sip.

“Well yes, there is no way of leaving without being seen outside unfortunately. Though fortunately you friends seem to know their ways”.

You both peer at the dark pool as the water ripples.

“ Ever swim here”?

“Hm, no I can’t remember the last time I swam”. You explained you leave the amenities left for guests and agents. Chamber was intrigued by the pool, and informed his time working in the French military training consisting of tremendous swimming exercises. You both laughed and bantered, about tragic swimming stories. When Chamber first learnt how to swim his father threw him into a body of water without any experience. Though he was always there to watch his son. He never drowned of course. His parents expected so much of him, and he finally detached from them when he made his own profit from gun designing and his businesses.

You admired his work ethic, the way he sips his wine and snatches some food. He eventually seemed so lost in the conversion, you grabbed a cracker and some cheese and slowly, while he wasn’t paying attention, slipped in, to which he chuckled at. You both start crazy antics. aiming olives in each others mouths making a mess.

One almost plopped into the pool. To that you both laughed, making jokes about how you’d make Vincent go fetch it. To then he’d only throw you.

“You wouldn’t dare”!

“Are you testing me mademoiselle”?

He shifts from the table indicating he would do it or maybe he was bluffing. He seemed to inch around the table closer to you, you stand from your seat attempting to make more distance between the both of you.

“You wouldn’t dare”..

“Would I”?

He seemed to increase speed around the table and so did you. Eventually he caught your arm and swooped you off your feet, you put up a fight begging for mercy. You wrapped your arms around his neck so that he would not be able to throw you. But instead, of course, he throws the both of you. You scream as you both fall into the pool. Chamber lets go of you when jumping in losing your leverage.

You try to reach the surface, but struggle a bit. You can’t remember the last time you swam, well when you were maybe 7. Chamber pulled you by the arm lifting you to his chest, gasping for air. He wrapped around your waist too.

“Good thing my training is also involved with rescuing, I almost lost you there”.

“I just need to remind myself how to swim apparently I suppose instead of being saved all the time”.

Chamber smiled at the sight of you, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a loving kiss. Chamber swims towards the edge so you could hold onto it as he pulls himself onto the edge. He removes his vest exposing the sheer white wet fabric. It stuck on to his abs you couldn’t help but stare. He also took off his shoes.

“Going back in”?

“Like you said, you haven’t swam in a long time, why not take advantage of this moment ma belle”.

You slipped off your shoes and went back into the water, this time taking it much slower than before. You managed to keep yourself afloat. You saw Chamber go walk onto the diving board. You admired how his back muscles moved as he walked towards the diving board. You held onto the ledge getting tired of keeping your head above the surface. You watched Chamber slip off his glasses before doing such a smooth dive. He was speeding under water towards, making you wriggle and scream in laughter as he caught you into his trap. He submerged from the water, cornering you, hands gripped on the edge as you held his shoulders.

He smashed his lips onto yours. You held onto his wet blouse, gripping the wet fabric tugging him to be closer. He licked your lips asking for permission, with pleasure you granted him access, he entered and explored, you whimpered from his blunt actions. He pulled away to admire your flushed out state. You were starting to shake from the mild cold water, it was not freezing but rather below lukewarm.

“Chamber it's getting cold”, you gittered.

He then moved around you to lift himself up from the pool and then assist you. At this point you were shivering, somehow the cold hasn’t got to him. You both picked up the belonging and you blew out the candle. You were worried about the mess that was made by you both, but Chamber assured you Jett and Phoenix volunteered.

He patted you with a towel he found, and opened the exit door.

You both sneaked back into Chamber's room f=to get into the shower and find new clothes. When stripping your layers, Chamber received a call and had to excuse himself. You decided to proceed with the shower, you waited while the hot water danced around your skin. You waited but still heard murmurs from outside the door, you finished cleaning yourself, and hoped out, and took advantage of your time and blow dried your hair. You walked out with only a towel seeing that Vincent was nowhere in sight of the room, hinting that he must've gone to his bureau. You stole of of his shirts and a pair of boxers since you had no dry clothes yet.

You shimmied yourself under the covers hoping he'd be arriving before you fell asleep, but the amount of swimming you did tired you out. Before even putting your phone down, you saw Chamber walkout his bureau and into the bathroom (prob to shower that chlorine off). You pick up your phone again and start to distract yourself from the pull of sleep. You scroll through old photos you've taken, ones with agents fooling around in the training area or pictures of Jett's amazing cooking. You laughed at one where you got a perfect shot of Astra when she was at the protocol; hitting Brim with a snowball by accident aiming for Phoenix. Unexpectedly Brim threw one back. At one point, you realize you do not have a single picture of Chamber and it was a shame to not have a single picture of his handsome face.

The crank of the door knob grabbed hold of your attention, this was your chance. You quickly got onto your camera app, to get the perfect snapshot of a Vincent with a towel hanging below his love handles with still a few droplets left onto his body, his hair was wet and slick back and his face without glasses. You have to admit he was similar to a Greek god. Seconds before you secured the picture you forgot your flash was on, and just looked at Chamber who was directly staring back at you with your jaw dropped.

You started laughing trying to lock your phone as Chamber rushed to you on the bed snatching the phone out your hand.

He tried to unlock it via your face id.

"HA I DON'T USE THAT".

He was straddling you, he flipped you over to your stomach, pinning you down and reaching for one of your hands to enter via fingerprint access. You wriggled and fought against him, but eventually unlocked it. Before you could put up a fight he helped you hands behind your back taking advantage to scroll through your phone to find that picture.

“Nooooooooo it's a good picture”...

He laughed, “It is, hm, better than I expected”.

“HEY”.

He is insulting your photography skills.

“But I can always give you better ones if you just ask”.

Your head thumped onto the mattress and cheeks grew red due to embarrassment, then the sound of click accompanied with flash drew your eyes open.

[angryschnauzer]

Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

 Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

 You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

 The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

 “Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

 “Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

 You glanced at the clock;

 “Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

 You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

 “You got any Chilli left?”

 “Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

 He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

 “No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

 “Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

 You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

 “Hey, you want a free muffin?”

 “I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

 The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

 “Have a good evening Detective”

 As he turned he smiled at you;

 “Call me Walter”

 -

 Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

 The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

 “Detective” you greeted him happily

 “Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

 “I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

 He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

 “What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

 “I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

 “Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

 “Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

 As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

 “... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

 He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

 “Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

 “Sure thing”

 Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

 “You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

 “I… I have no idea what that is…”

 “Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

 He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

 “You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

 He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

 “That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

 You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

 “Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

 -

 Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building. 

 Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

 The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

 He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

 “Fuck!”

 He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

 “Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

 Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

 “Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

 “You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

 “I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

 “I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

 Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

 “Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

 “Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

 You tighten your grip around his waist;

 “I wasn’t complaining…”

 There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

 He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

 “Leave those on…”

 You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

 As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

 When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

 “You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

 “You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

 Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

 “I need you inside me”

 “I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

 “I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

 With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

 “Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

 He paused, a smirk on his face;

 “You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

 “NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

 “You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

 “Please… please fuck me…”

 He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

 “Well, as you said please…”

 You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

 You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

 “Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

 Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

 “That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

 At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

 “I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

 Nodding you smiled;

 “That'd be nice”

 -

 A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

 “Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

 Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

 “Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

 You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

 “I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 >>>

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

So many of those smut prompts sound like our favorite asshole, Nathan Bateman. So let’s do smut #12 with Nathan pleeeasee.

Oh, I love writing Nathan Bateman, I do not do it very often so let me know what you think. Thank you for the request lovely. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking! 

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x F! Reader 

Warning: 18 + (Language, Oral F! Receiving (Explicit), Nathan Bateman) 

Word Count: 2K

My Masterlist

Prompt # 12 “The food looks great, but…there’s something much more delicious I’d like to eat right now.” - Nathan Bateman.

Seven days. It had been seven days since you’d see Nathan Bateman, and he fucking lived here. He was like a ghost, haunting the hallways while you slept, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and empty bottles of alcohol in the trash bin. Besides those small things, you wouldn’t know anyone was in the house besides yourself.

You had to get out of this house. You went to the closet and got out your brown hiking boots and changed into your fleece leggings and a sweater, tugging your rain jacket on over it. It was lightly misting outside, and you enjoyed taking deep breaths of the fresh air and the melodies of nature. The sweet coo of the birds and the snap of branches as animals scurried into their burrows.

Your backpack slung over your shoulder held a delicious picnic lunch for you to enjoy at the glacier towards the end of the trail. Fresh cut apples, with a dip made of Greek yogurt, peanut butter, and honey, a baguet piled high with prosciutto, mozzarella, and arugula, a large brownie filled with peanut M&M’s a personal favorite. It felt good to be making something just for yourself.

Cooking for Nathan usually meant green smoothies, chicken, and rice, things that would keep him trim. Although he did love your brownies. You frowned, thinking of your boss and what the past year was like living here in the wilderness, so far from civilization. After his ‘incident’ with one of his inventions nearly killing him, he’d hired you to become a housekeeper/assistant. Although he never required you to do any assistant work, unless it included dictation. But he spoke so fast he usually just turned on the text to speech anyways.

This had been the longest he’d gone without seeing you, and it concerned you greatly. If it weren’t for the empty dishes, you’d think he was dead in the lab. The thought turning your stomach sour of a world without Nathan Bateman. No, he was not ideal. He was an asshole most of the time, always needing to get the last word and prove his intelligence. You’d told him one night that it wasn’t a competition after he’d interrupted you again with some obscure fact. He’d just smirked and told you everything was.

You hated to admit it, but you’d missed him over the past week. Living so isolated and away from everyone made you depend on each other more for human interaction. Almost every night after dinner, he would sit at the counter nursing a drink and talk to you about his work. Most of it went over your head, but it was the time he took to speak to you that mattered. When you’d first arrived, he spent most of the time ignoring you unless he absolutely needed you.

You keep walking further and further down the trail smiling at the night that changed it all. You’d been on the couch in the living room, rain splattering against the windowpane, a fire warming the room—the TV showing your favorite romantic comedy, When Harry Met Sally. Nathan had come into the kitchen for another beer and was walking back to the lab when he heard moaning sounds coming from the living room. He’d quickly come to sit down next to you, pulling the blanket draped over you across his lap to share, eyes transfixed on the TV.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, looking at you, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, she told him that women fake orgasms sometimes, and men can’t tell. He said he could tell, so she is pretending to have an orgasm in the middle of the restaurant.”

He laughs, and it shocks you as you both turn back to the screen, watching Sally slam her hands down on the table and scream out her climax. He stayed for the entire movie, pulling the bowl of popcorn between the two of you and taking handfuls. When your hands touched both, reaching into the bowl, he froze and quickly withdrew his hand.

The touch had been eclectic, and you swore you could still feel the tingles today, the zings traveling up your arm. His commentary during the movie had you laughing harder than the movie. He watched you, eyes beaming as you snorted and were almost in tears, his smile stretched across his face. It was at that moment you’d realized you’d never seen someone more handsome in your life.

You shook your head and kept walking. It wasn’t right to have those feelings for your boss. But it was hard not to when things changed so much after that night. Movie nights became a weekly thing; he’d stayed after dinner to talk, you’d been on several hikes together, he became more. You fell in love with him, and it fucking sucked.

You reach the glacier and take a moment to appreciate the view. The sun hitting the side of the ice, making it almost appear blue to the eye. The water crashing over the bottom, the cool air brushing against your face. You sit down your pack, pull out the blanket you’d brought, the one from the couch you used to sit under with Nathan, and lay it out. Sitting in the middle and taking out your lunch containers and novel to enjoy for the few hours of fresh air you desperately needed.

“So this is where you ran off too,” Nathan’s voice surprises you from behind, and you toss the apple slice in your hand in the air with a yelp. “Jesus Nathan!” you shout, “Did you have to sneak up on me?”

“I can’t help it if your unobservant,” he chastises playfully, “What the hell are you doing out here? You never go on hikes without me.”

You look at him incredulously, “Did you forget that I haven’t seen you in seven days?!” You can’t help the way your voice cracks, and he locks his eyes on your quivering lip.

“I-I,” he never stumbles over his words, and you look at him in shock, “I’m sorry, alright?”

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly. He takes a seat beside you on the blanket and looks out over the landscape, nodding.

“Yeah, I just- I just needed to figure some things out. But,” he turns to you, “I know what I need to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

He ignores you and reaches for the container with the sandwich pulling it out, smooshing it between his hands, and pulling it in for a bite. The little bit of mayonnaise dribbles down his beard, and you reach forward without thinking to brush it off with your thumb. You keep his eyes as you move the finger to your lip and lick it off. He clears his throat and puts down the sandwich reaching for an apple slice and slipping it into the dip.

You watch his eyes close around the first heavenly bite, and you bite your lip at the look of pure ecstasy on his face. “What do you think?” you ask, grinning.

He opens his eyes and reaches for another slice and slathering it in the dip before popping the whole thing in his mouth and sucking the rest of his finger. “The food looks great, but...there’s something much more delicious I’d rather eat right now.” He turns his head to look at you, and the air is sucked from your lungs. There is a hunger growing in his russet eyes, and it’s not from your lunch.

“What- what d-do you m-mean?” now you are one stumbling over your words, and he smirks. He takes his time repacking the containers and clearing the blanket before he reaches for you. He scoots himself closer and puts both hands around the sides of your neck, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Do you want to know what I had to figure out this week?” he asks quietly, and you nod, clinging to his every word. “I needed to figure out a way to tell you I want to be with you.”

“Y-you mean more than my b-boss?” you stutter.

He chuckles darkly, “Well, you can still call me sir, but not because I pay you,” he teases, and you bite your lip, chewing on it. His eyes are drawn to it, and he uses his thumb and pulls it from your teeth and down. “I want to kiss you,”  he whispers deeply, “okay, Kitten?”

“Oh god, yes, please,” you groan, shutting your eyes and leaning forward.

He chuckles and pulls you close, “you called,” he teased and slotted his mouth over yours, his beard brushing against your face, softer than your expected. The smell of bergamot drifting over you, the beard oil you bought him for his birthday. He licks against your bottom lip, and you open, allowing your tongues to wrestle. His hands leaving your neck and pushing your shoulder down gently so he can straddle you. His forearms braced on either side of your head, his nose brushing against yours.

His lips travel down to your neck, and his hands move over your coat, sliding the zipper down and pulling it open. His mouth presses hot wet kisses against your collarbone, and you throw your head back and moan as he kneads your breast through the sweater. “Fuck,” he whispers, moving lower and sliding past your breasts. He nips at you through the fabric, and your buck up into him. Your hands gliding over his shoulders so broad in his coat.

He hovers over you, looking into your eyes with lust blown pupils. His hand reaching towards your bottoms. You nod, and he begins shimmying them down your hips, along with your panties. He watches your pussy wet and dripping like it’s a Monet in an art museum, and he runs a thick finger between your folds.

When he hears your soft whimpers, his eyes travel up to you, and he keeps your eye contact as he dips his head forward and licks broad strokes through your cunt. His mouth latches onto your clit, and he sucks it into his mouth, causing your hips to rise. “Nathan,” you moan, “please,” you beg, and he pulls off with a pop.

“I’m just trying to enjoy this delicious picnic you packed for me Kitten, don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.” He smiles as you throw your head back as he teases a finger at your entrance before sliding it inside you and curving gently. His tongue goes back to teasing your clit, sucking it, and nipping lightly, never enough to be painful.

He slowly drags his finger in and out of you, drawing out the pleasure before he adds a second finger. Your fingers slip beneath your sweater and pull on your nipple with your left hand. The right coming down to keep his head down on your clit. When he adds a third finger and begins to circle your clit with his tongue, you feel the dam break. The pleasure coursing through you is almost drowned out by the crashing water below.

He lets you ride it out until you groan and push at his head and pull him up to your lips. He tangles his tongue with yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulls away with a proud smile on his face, his beard glistening in your juices. “How was that?” he asks.

You let out a laugh and smile, “Fucking amazing,” you pant attempting to catch your breath, “Are you going to fuck me, Mr. Bateman?” He sighs before rolling off you and to your side, interlacing your fingers with his own and looking at the blue sky above you.

“Eventually,” he turns his head and looks at you, “I am going to fuck you on every single square inch of that house, and then when I’m done, I’m going to do it again.” He sits up and pulls your leggings back up, and buttons them shut, making sure you’re warm. “But right now,” he reaches for you and tucks you into his side, pressing his lips on your forehead, “I am going to enjoy a day out with you. I’ve fucking missed you this week.”

You smile and reach an arm across his chest and place your head on his chest, “Oh Nathan, I really missed you too.”

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[thedisneychef]

Tutto Italia's Lasagna Al Forno Recipe: An Authentic Italian Dish

If you're a fan of Italian cuisine, you're probably familiar with the mouthwatering flavors of lasagna. And if you've had the pleasure of dining at Tutto Italia Ristorante in Epcot's World Showcase at Walt Disney World, then you know that their Lasagna Al Forno is a dish that's not to be missed. Fortunately, you don't have to travel all the way to Disney World to indulge in this delicious dish. With this Lasagna Al Forno recipe, you can recreate the same rich and hearty flavors of Tutto Italia's signature dish in your own kitchen. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Avoiding Kitchen Bloopers: Perfecting Kona Sweet Bread - Lemon Garlic Shrimp Spoodles Recipe: A Delicious and Easy Meal - Kona Cafe’s Macadamia Pineapple Pancakes: Recipe with Sauce This classic Italian dish features layer upon layer of tender pasta, creamy ricotta cheese, flavorful meat sauce, and melted mozzarella cheese. The recipe also includes a secret ingredient that sets this lasagna apart from others - a touch of nutmeg, which adds a warm and slightly sweet flavor to the savory dish. Whether you're looking to impress guests at a dinner party or simply craving a comforting and satisfying meal, Tutto Italia's Lasagna Al Forno recipe is sure to hit the spot. So grab your apron and get ready to cook up a taste of Italy in your own home. Lasagna. Everybody loves it.  Right? Wrong. I don’t like lasagna.  I’ve never liked lasagna.  I don’t buy it, I don’t order it, I honestly can’t remember the last time I even ate lasagna.  I’m just not a fan. So what is somebody to do when they hear around dinnertime “I’m in the mood for a good lasagna tonight…” when they’re such a non-fan of the dish that, when put on the spot, they’re not even sure how to make it? Time to look to find that magical Disney recipe. If there was ever a recipe for something that could turn a food I don’t like into something I can make and actually enjoy, it would be a Disney recipe. I’d hoped, hoped, hoped that I had a recipe from Wolfgang Puck Express, but I actually came up with the next best thing. A Wolfgang Puck-inspired dish from Tutto Italia Ristorante. So, the things I learned about lasagna by making this dish…First and foremost, there is such a thing as a lasagna that I adore, and this is it. It’s apparently very non-traditional in terms of American-style lasagna, but very classic, authentic Italian. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much. There were a lot of great flavors, not weighed down by heavy ricotta or cheese. I could taste the tomatoes, the meat, all the spices. Seriously, it was awesome. Even the leftovers were spectacular. This was unlike the lasagna I’ve had before. It was hearty, it didn’t fall apart or disintegrate, and it wasn’t oily or greasy… If all lasagna tasted like this, maybe I’d like it more. The second thing that I learned… Making lasagna from scratch is easy, though complicated, and it makes A LOT of dishes. And it’s a major investment in time. My stove and dishwasher got quite the workout. Just think if I’d made the pasta, like they do on-site. Holy cow. I really stuck to the recipe on this one, though I did use dried herbs instead of fresh (again, NH in the winter means no good fresh herbs). I’ll admit I ran out of the pomodoro sauce because I over-sauced the meat and the bottom of the pan, so I couldn’t top the lasagna with a decent layer of sauce before I baked, or dress it after I’d cut and plated it. Next time, I’ll probably make more, or be a little lighter on how I sauce everything. I did, however, sauce the slices I served with some of the sauce drippings from the pan, and that was brilliant and tasty, if I do say so myself. So this is my exception to my “I don’t like lasagna” rule. It’s time consuming and makes a mess in the kitchen, but I think if I want to impress people with an amazing dish, this is a great choice. ~~~~  °o°  ~~~~ In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article