#Cinnamon Whisky

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[morethansalad]

Brown Sugar Peach Mint Julep Mocktail (Vegan)

[kiki-strike]

i think the fire nation would have fireball. mostly because it’s funny to imagine zhao and zuko sitting down to Important Psychological Warfare Talk on zhao’s fancy ass admiral ship quarters and he pours them fucking fireball.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Fall From The Tree

Its beautiful golden hues, crisp harvest flavours and seasonal spice make this Fall From The Tree a delightfully Autumnal cocktail indeed! Something to sip in the afternoon whilst watching an old film, reading a good book, or perhaps even while taking a stroll in the garden as the colour of the tipple matches that of the carpet of leaves under the apple, pear and plum trees! Cheers!

Ingredients (serves 1):

8 ice cubes

45 millilitres/1 1/2 fluid ounce (3 tablespoons) good Single Malt Whisky

30 millilitres/1 fluid ounce (2 tablespoons) Maple Apple Juice

15 millilitres/1/2 fluid ounce (1 tablespoon) Cinnamon Syrup 

half a small lemon

two dashes Angostura Bitters

3 thin apple slices, for garnish (optional)

Add ice cubes to a shaker.

Pour Whisky, Maple Apple Juice and Cinnamon Syrup over the ice.

Thoroughly squeeze in the juice of the lemon halve.

Add two dashes Angostura bitters.

Close the shaker tightly, and shake energetically until well-chilled.

Strain into a chilled coupe glass, and garnish with apple slices, if desired.

Enjoy Fall From The Tree immediately.

[moonage-gaydream]

It is Fireball Friday, folks 🔥

[21st-century-minutiae]

Fireball is a brand of sweetened cinnamon whiskey (also spelt 'whisky'). Both the cinnamon and the alcohol produce a burning taste, hence the name.

Fireball whiskey has a particular reputation to it. It is seen as quite popular with an unsophisticated crowd, especially college students who might not have much experience drinking, and are diving headlong into an aggressive experience, which they may not be able to handle. The perception is that people drink it, not because it is their preference, but because they think they are supposed to have liquor at college parties and it has a fun-sounding name.

Whether or not the reputation relates to the actual sale demographics, it is the type of drink you will often see at college parties.

just saw an ad for fireball…I didn’t know they advertised…why advertise fireball…either you’re in college and buying fireball because you’re looking to make a life-threatening mistake on halloween in salem, mass or you’re not going to do that

[simmeringstarfruit]

Rice Pudding with Scottish Whisky and Raspberries

A creamy stovetop rice pudding served with a Scottish whisky, honey, and fresh raspberries! This easy rice pudding recipe is a luxurious dessert made with arborio rice, warmed milk, vanilla, orange, and cosy spices. Including dairy-free options, plus an apple pie flavour variation. Enjoy this ultimate comfort food warm or chilled, inspired by the rice pudding from Stardew Valley. Jump to…

[nobodyinthegraveyard]

Beautiful server with the gumi haircut I love you

[bottlebrief]

Bold and Fiery: JP Wiser Special Blend Whisky Review - A Cinnamon Explosion! 🔥

Rating 3/10 (Rating System)

JP Wiser's Special Blend presents a robust and intense nose, characterized by a powerful and somewhat burning aroma. The spicy notes dominate, with a hard-hitting cinnamon presence that immediately grabs your attention. While intriguing, the nose might be a bit overwhelming for those seeking a more subtle whisky experience. On the palate, the burning sensation persists, giving way to a fiery and spicy feeling. The whisky leaves a tingling sensation around the palate, indicating its strength and boldness. However, the harsh taste might not be to everyone's liking, as it lacks the smoothness and refinement typically associated with whiskey. It deviates from the classic whiskey profile and feels more like a potent and intense spirit. As for the finish, it's relatively short-lived, with the burning sensation lingering in the mouth. The intensity doesn't extend into a prolonged aftertaste, which might disappoint enthusiasts seeking a lasting and complex finish. In summary, JP Wiser's Special Blend stands out for its strong and spicy aroma, but it might be too overpowering for those looking for a more balanced and mellow whiskey experience. The burning sensation on the palate and the lack of a prolonged finish detract from its appeal as a traditional whiskey. If you prefer bold and intense spirits with a pronounced cinnamon kick, this could be an interesting option. However, for those seeking a classic, smooth whiskey profile, this might not be the best fit. Category: Canadian Whiskey ABV: 40% Nose: Strong aroma, Burning feeling in nose, Spicy aroma, Hard cinnamon Taste: Burning sensation is there, Spicy feeling, Tingling sensation around the palate, Harsh taste, Not feeling like whiskey at all Finish: Not very long finish, Burning lasts in mouth  LCBO Wiser's Special Blend Whisky is handmade in Canada using traditional methods and ingredients. Golden amber and fragrant with honey, vanilla and cloves, it's smooth and clean on the palate with a hint of spice on the finish. A signature introduction to the Wiser's line best enjoyed straight or in a whisky cocktail. BC Liquor Store A smooth mellow Canadian whisky that reveals a deep gold colour and suggests a hint of spice, vanilla and oak. Its subtle sweetness delivers a full finish that is clean and compact. Read the full article

[dorkbajirchronicles]

I'm throwing an Animorphs-themed party in a couple weeks, mainly as an excuse to make themed snacks and cocktails. Here are my ideas so far:

- the Cube: a mojito with a large blue ice cube (Andalites)

- bark spritz: some sort of gin-cinnamon stick-maple syrup combo (Hork-Bajir) I've found luck in Christmas vibe drinks with apple cider added as well

- kandrona shot: cinnamon whisky and coke with a piece of cinnamon gum inside (Yeerks)

- thermal sunset: orange juice, rum, vodka, sprite, with a bit of grenadine (Animorphs)

[delirious-donna]

The Cat Who Got The Cream [Kuroo Tetsuro]

an: Kuroo deserves to be rewarded for everything he does to make you feel special, and nothing will stop you from worshipping him (there isn't a thing I wouldn't do for this man tbf)

pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x female reader

warnings: oral sex, hand humping, just pure smut

Masterlist

He tasted annoyingly good. Smoky whisky notes mixed perfectly with the slight cinnamon spice from the dessert you had not long shared. His taste tingled your tastebuds, your mouth salivating in anticipation whilst your patience was shredded down to bare threads.

Your mouth slanted in want and Kuroo deepened the kiss in retaliation. He licked at the swell of your bottom lip in a faux act of requesting permission, he knew from the way you squirmed against him that you were just as needy as he was. With a breathless chuckle, the wet muscle curled past your teeth to invade your mouth, stroking your tongue in slow, languid movements that had you moaning into the shared space.

The quiet of your bedroom room was broken only by the sinful mewls that crawled from your throat, matched in urgency by deep groans from Kuroo’s strong chest. Your fingers danced over the space covering his heart, delighting in how it was racing beneath your fingertips, in how he was flexing and pressing into your touch wherever he could reach. It made you smile against his mouth, the hot lust evident in the air that thickened overhead.

This was far from the first time you had been intimate, but it felt somehow different tonight, charged with electric potency of an animalistic breed. It was hotter than a bubbling spring and your skin reacted with the steady march of goosebumps as if a spider walked down your spine.

“Tetsu…” You whimpered, breaking for air and trembling from the lick of his tongue against the roof of your mouth which left a thin webbing of saliva connecting your lips.

“Mm. Need something, pretty girl?”

Long dextrous fingers roamed the plush of your thighs, pressing against your denim jeans and you could tell that he was close to laying you atop the cool unrumpled sheets, close to pinning you beneath his strong body and taking matters into his own hands. You could feel the thick length of his erection, the outline hot and heavy against his thigh. Deliberately, your hips undulated to allow your pelvis to meet it.

Kuroo bit back a hiss, warm hazel eyes flaring with crackling sparks when the seam of your zipper caught against him. The seat of your underwear was sticky with arousal, melding to the heat of your labia and the way you let his clothed cock press against you felt practically criminal. You needed him fiercely—so fierce that you felt the first tickle of tears build behind your eyes. Except… he was always taking care of you and your needs.

You had never met a man like the one holding you right now. Protective, caring, handsome as hell, and funny. A perfect package, and you counted your blessings every day that he had fallen into your life. Memories of breakfasts in bed, unexpected flowers delivered to your workplace and those sweet, lingering kisses placed longing against your forehead whenever he left for work rose like surging tides. They brought with them, a swell of confidence.

Tetsuro watched you with curiosity, you’d swear his ears would twitch like a cat if they could. Those pretty hazel eyes studied your expression with a shy smile, one that you were unaccustomed to. Along with the pink blush creeping slowly up the sides of his neck and dusting the tops of his cheeks, you purred at his reaction.

“Wanna make you feel good. You’ll let me, won’t you, baby? Gonna stretch out and let me show you my appreciation for once,” you cooed, ghosting your lips against the cut of his jaw. You fisted the front of his crisp shirt, pleading with wide eyes although you knew he would give you the world right now.

Kuroo looked divine laid out on your bed, an arm tucked behind his messy raven hair and the other reached out to pet at you. He watched you with hunger burning in his gaze. Long black lashes fanned against the apples of his cheeks, fluttering shut only to snap open again. He didn’t want to miss a second of your smaller hand wrapped so perfectly around his leaking cock. With each eager pump of your fist, the foreskin rolled back to reveal a hot red tip slick with precum dribbling out to cover your fingers and his aching shaft.

His mouth gaped when your tongue peeked out—pink and perfect—to drag from the weeping tip to the very base and up again on the other side. Intrigued by every little twitch, the quiver of his toned abdomen and the way the tendons in his neck strained, you wriggled in the space between his thighs. Stripped down to your underwear, a hand pressed to your sex to relieve the need for friction. Not only were you teasing him with candy licks, but you also worked yourself into a frenzy with messy strokes against your swollen clit.

A wet slurp rang out, clear and lewd. Saliva pooled in your mouth as you fed him deeper, drool lubricated his dick and clung to the stark veins that you tongued playfully, chest filling up with a puff of pride when he clutched your hair into a makeshift grip. Kuroo’s breathing fast became erratic, the rise and fall of his chest uneven and laboured but that only spurred you on you.  

“Oh, fuck—kitten. Slow… slow down,” he cried out, sounding out of breath and feverish.

Whilst you heard the concern lacing his request, born from his worry about you and your poor throat that you were slowly abusing with every inch you swallowed down, you refused to listen. You were simply addicted to the taste of him, drunk on his cock and drooling around him without a care. Where his mouth was warm and spicy, the heavy skin of his cock was musky with a tang of salt, uniquely masculine and you willingly gagged on him over and over.

His eyebrows pinched, a crinkle above his nose and he threw his head back against the pillows. It was impossible to keep his hips still, they rose unbidden to fuck your perfect little mouth. Slurring his words in between moans at the wet slick of your lips wrapped around him. The sight was heaven, lust-glazed eyes met yours as you lost yourself in the feel of him.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. Mm… taking me like a fuckin’ champ. That’s it, keep doing that!”

You cupped his heavy balls in your palm, huffing through your nose when he whimpered softly. Black spikes of hair fell into his eyes, perfectly dishevelled and coming apart by your mouth and hand. It sent pulses of pleasure shooting straight through your clit, explorative fingers jerking to a stop when you rutted shamelessly against your hand.

His orgasm was fast approaching, the swollen balls you rolled between fingers and thumb drawing tight to the base of his cock whilst the warm drip of pleasure built at the base of his spine. Kuroo gritted his teeth, determined not to spill down your throat yet. He had a request, one final thing he wanted to see again before he shot his creamy load into your mouth.

“Kitten, open up for me. Lemme see you swallow me down once more. Fuck… yeah, gonna turn that pink tongue of yours white.”

Your jaw slackened, releasing his cock and marvelling at the webbed saliva that strung between him and you. Licking through the mess, you grinned and pressed a wet slurping kiss to the salty pearls still escaping his slit.

“Fuck my mouth, Tetsuro… make me choke,” you begged hoarsely.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Kuroo guided you back to where he needed you most, a groan vibrating from his chest until it escaped through parted lips as you took him into the paradise of your mouth. The heat curled around him, tongue lolling out when he lodged into the soft tissue of your throat. Drool seeped over the seam of his tight balls, the mess dripping to the sheets below moments before he lost himself to the suction and swallow of the muscles around his cock.

Hot ropes of cum painted the length of your throat, and you joined him in his orgasm. You fucked the ridge of your hand, wet moans gurgling around him, and he pulled you off enough to see the remaining spend collect on your tongue. A rough thumb wiped at the cum trying to escape your lips, moving it back inside whilst you blinked through blissed-out eyes.

“Uh uh. Swallow it all, baby. Can’t let it go to waste,” he chided affectionately.

“Gotta stop smiling like that, kitten. You look like the cat who got all the cream…”

How right he was.

[reidsdimples]

A Taste of the Night Life

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

18+ ���️‍🔥 MDNI‼️

Munch Spencer can’t help himself.

Cinnamon whisky accompanied the taste of Spencer’s kiss after the round of shots the group had taken at the bar. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth greedily and moaned.

He pressed you firmly into the wall of the dimly light hallway of the nightclub. Your hands gripped his hair and brought him closer to you, the alcohol warming your cunt and making you crave him.

His large hands gripped your hips as he bunched up your dress to press a thigh between your legs.

“Please baby,” him whimpered as you kissed him harder.

“Please what,” you tugged on his tie and bit his lip hard.

His long fingers found your pussy and rubbed at your clit over your lace panties.

“I just wanna taste, please. I’ll be quick,” he begged. His words hardened your nipples and caused your pussy to drool.

You looked out at the flashing lights of the club, the blur of bodies dancing together. You knew the rest of the BAU were tucked away in a VIP booth while Morgan and Savannah danced their hearts out to the beat.

You groaned and his hand firmly cupped your pussy, prompting you to grind down on it. He whimpered again and kicked his lips, his brown pleading eyes locking with yours.

Two girls scampered drunkenly out of the rest room and you shoved Spence off of you. You glanced in to find the tiny two stall bathroom empty and dragged him in by his tie. He stumbled awkwardly in behind you and you locked the dead bolt.

“You know club bathrooms contain more germs and drug residue tha-“

“Spencer, you want me or not?” You huff.

He was on you in and instant, kissing you hungrily as though his life depended on it.

“Just a taste?” You asked and ran your thumb over his swollen lips thoughtfully.

“Mhmm, please. I swear I’ll be good for the rest of the night. I’ll do anything you want,” he nodded enthusiastically. You shoved your thumb into his mouth and he sucked hard as he held your gaze.

“Will you dance with me?” You asked.

He nodded his head slowly, savoring your appendage on his tongue.

“Good boy,” you praised and pulled your finger free.

You kissed him quickly and pushed him down to his knees by the shoulders. Excitement and lust warred in his features as you rolled your dress up.

“I wanna make you cum,” he breathed.

He eyed your exposed pussy and pulled your panties to the side. You sucked in a harsh breath as he ran his middle finger between your folds.

“I expect nothing less baby,” you grinned and gripped his hair.

You pulled his face into your cunt and draped your leg over his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate to penetrate your entrance with his tongue, making quick work of gliding it between there and your clit.

You moaned and threw your head back as the beautiful specimen of a man ate your greedily. He was so mind numbingly good at it, especially when he was craving you so bad.

He sucked on your clit and slid two fingers into you, pumping that sweet spot and he savored your arousal. You shamelessly rid his face, holding onto his hair for dear life as your orgasm approached. His fingers moved in and out of you rapidly as he worked your clit feverishly.

“Hello!” Someone banged on the door. “People are waiting!”

You and Spencer paused and laughed.

“Just a minute!” You yelled back as he resumed his task.

The sounds coming from between your legs were hedonistic, vile, delicious. But you both loved it.

“Spence!” You wailed as your legs gave out. You didn’t care who heard you.

He pinned you by your hips to the wall and devoured every drop you had to offer him.

“Fuck,” you cried as your body shook and you rode out your orgasm on his perfect face.

When you were done, he carefully pulled your dress down and looked up at you from his knees, his mouth wet with your arousal. He smiled sheepishly at you as you pulled him back to standing.

“So good,” you praised and kissed him sweetly.

When the two of you emerged from the bathroom hand in hand, you were given a few nasty looks and a few “good for you” looks. You smirked and took Spencer to the dance floor, fully intending to use his body for the rest of the night.

[novlr]

How to write the cold

The way we feel cold is universal, but the way we contextualise it is not. Cold has a variety of connotations for readers, so it's important to decide how to use it, and what mood you want to convey in your scene.

While cold is often associated with negative aspects in writing, if there's anything the winter season teaches us, is that it can be a positive thing as well. Rather than just using the word cold, in your next writing project, try to contextualise it. Describe the weather, the light on the snow, the comfort of warmth after an icy swim, or the fear and loneliness of the dark on a cold night.

Here are our quick tips on how to write the cold:

In nature

Clean mountain air

Glittering ice crystals

Unique wildlife, like snow hares or polar bears

Snow muffled sounds

Steam rising from hot springs

Icy water in rivers and lakes

Overcast and rainy

Bright sun on fresh snow

Icebergs, glaciers, and ice floes

Storms and blizzards

Branches moving and creaking

Frozen ponds

Morning frost on grass

Snowdrops pushing through snowdrifts

Crisp and clear night skies

Wolves howling in the dark

Bare branches scraping against windows

Eerie shadows

Foods and objects

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg

Heavy winter coats and scarves

Rich, hot meals with lots of gravy

Tea or coffee left out too long

Ice-cream, sorbets, or ice-lollies

Metal that is cold to the touch (like pots and pans or door handles)

Cold beverages straight out of the fridge

An icy bath

Freezer trucks or walk-in refrigerators

Dry ice

Crisp, fresh sheets on cold nights

Ice sculptures

A tap with a drip that freezes in place

Frozen celebratory drinks (like daiquiris)

A single cube of ice floating in a whisky glass

A cold pack for an injury

Character moods

Isolated

Lonely

Aloof

Sad

Comfortable

Snuggly

Focused

Panicked

Indifferent

A lack of affection

Calm and calculated

Disengaged

Serene

Depressed

Awestruck

Anxious

Reverent

Melancholy

Nostalgic

Impatient

Frustrated

Reflective

Character body language

Hunched shoulders

Crossed arms

Shivering

Snuggling into something warm

Rub hands together for warmth

Tight or strained expression

Biting dry lips

Furrowing brow

Glaring against brightness

Tense and rigid stance

Stand close to others

Slow, deliberate steps

Move quickly to somewhere warm

Sitting relaxed in a warm space

Actions and events

Start a fire or build a shelter

Winter hikes

Outdoor activities like skating, skiing, or sledding

Traffic jams or snowed in cars

Frozen lakes cracking underfoot

Dodging icicles falling from rooftops

Going ice-fishing

Long sea voyages

Frostbite

Suffering from a cold, the flu, or pneumonia

Brainfreeze

Snuggling under a warm duvet

Sipping from a steaming hot drink for comfort

Cold-water swimming

Walking to work in the rain

Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere

Chrismas in July in the Southern Hemisphere

Reading a good book by the fire while it snows outside

Positive aspects

While cold is often associated with negative emotions, using it as a juxtaposition can often help to accentuate the positive feelings you want to convey.

If it's cold outside, a character enjoying a hot chocolate under their duvet will give a much more positive impression than if they were simply staying in bed.

The beauty of the natural world in winter, like snow, ice, and winter foliage can also be used to create a scene of happiness and wonder.

Negative aspects

Cold is often used to describe characters who are emotionally detached, calculating, or generally unfeeling. It's become an easy way to clue your readers in to how they're meant to feel about your character.

There are also more creative ways to use the cold, however, like describing the disappointment of forgetting about a hot drink you put down somewhere and only remembering when it's already gone cold, or the feeling of shock after you first step out of a warm shower.

Helpful synonyms

chilly

frigid

icy

wintry

frosty

cool

nippy

freezing

glacial

brisk

chilled

cool

polar

bitter

snowy

raw

refrigerated

arctic

rimy

draughty

[bluebellhairpin]

and this fireball tester I got also fucking sucks.

The best part of this microwave lasagne is the wine im drinking with it.

[the-californicationist]

he doesn’t disappoint

Wrote this fic as I was inspired by the challenge from @sky-is-the-limit that asked for Price getting fed up with hearing his hot neighbor have really terrible sex.

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

MDNI/18+

AO3 Version here

Four long stories above the people and the pigeons, she sat, legs on the railing of her amazingly small balcony, reading and writing. Always dressed in that huge jumper with the fraying collar, it swallowed her, covering her little spandex shorts that barely managed to keep her thick arse from slipping out of them, and she had her hair in the braid again. It was his favorite. He liked the ponytails, too, but the braid did something to him. When she plaited her hair and let that heavy rope hang limply over her shoulder, she became Repunzel, and he was Gallahad - or whatever muppet was meant to be at the bottom of her tower.

Captain Price knew that, the moment his fingers flipped the lock on his window, he’d disturb her peace. She’d startle, like a doe, and turn to smile at him. He lived for that turn. Every few nights, he’d catch her out here again, and he could make her turn to him. Make her smile at him. Make her laugh and talk with him, until she went to bed. But, that was the problem. Lately, her bed was filled with the one thing that made Price’s body fill with frustrated rage: The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend was such a typical Yank, it made Price’s eyes roll back in his head. From the boat shoes to the bad fade haircut, the lad looked like an Abercrombie advert had escaped from one of those oversized shopping bags and landed in her apartment. He was small, first of all, despite the gym-made muscles. And he was as smooth as an otter, fully hairless. Price shuddered back to the memory of watching him try to put up the fire escape ladder shirtless, struggling to lift it with those tiny hands of his, making a disgusted face at the dirt on his palms afterward, wiping it on her blanket without her seeing him. Disgusting little gremlin.

She kept giving this wanker chance after chance to figure it out in the bedroom, and Price had heard just about enough of it, and his gut twisted in his belly knowing he’d have to hear it again tonight. He knew The Boyfriend was here because she was doing her work outside. The Boyfriend insisted on playing his Battle Zone videogames on full volume, bothering her, and complaining like a child if she asked him to put on his headphones. Price enjoyed imagining how quickly he’d expire on a real battlefield. That little prick could scream all the obscenities he wanted but he’d be dead in milliseconds against a man like Price.

His darling didn’t know about that, though. She knew he was in the military, but she didn’t know that he was the leader of the deadliest special forces team in the world. He imagined explaining it to her, pictured the fear flooding her face, confusion and shock hanging out of her open mouth. No. He couldn’t tell her about himself. Usually, when they talked together on the balcony, he would smoke long, densely-packed cigars and sip his whisky while she confessed the sins of her day to him. She told him about grad school, about her poetry, maybe showing him a sample or two. It was beautiful. When she was upset, she’d even tap on his window to see if he was home, sometimes tearful, asking for advice on how to handle something The Boyfriend had done. On really bad nights, she’d lean in and hug him, crying on his enormous shoulder, telling him what a good friend he was for listening to her. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and her warmth made his cock swell with furious need.

As the night dragged on, The Boyfriend would eventually remember her and call her inside. He’d croon all sorts of things to her. His little whining “come on, baby” and pathetic “I just really need you to” quips were the opening lines to the worst song on Earth. He’d then spend the next five to ten minutes whimpering away on top of her, the headboard slamming into Price’s wall without rhythm. If the gorgeous woman suffering beneath him ever had the audacity to actually be enjoying his attempt, he’d shush her, shaming her for making noises, telling her “the neighbors don’t need to hear that shit.” Meanwhile, The Neighbor would be plotting his slow, painful death.

The banging started, and Price wanted to burst through the wall and stop this trainwreck from happening to her again. Eventually, a short time after it had begun, the banging stopped. Then, an even shorter time after that, the jingle of keys and the “I have an early day tomorrow” and “I have to go” were the outro to The Boyfriend’s opus.

Enough was enough. Before he even knew what he was doing, Price had his hand, raised in a fist, knocking on her apartment door. 23B. Shadow in the peephole. The click and clatter of a lock chain.

“Oh! John, it’s you. Is everything okay?” Her voice was low and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed. She was standing in her doorway, wearing those shorts, that jumper, still full of her need.

“No,” was all he could manage as he looked at her, his blue eyes blown, mad with desire.

“Oh, okay. Come in, I’ll make us some of that delicious tea you bought me. What are you doing here?”

Price followed her inside, silently relocking the portal, stalking her into the tiny kitchen, a mirror to his own. He came up behind her as she was looking in her cupboard for their mugs. When he put his hands on her hips, she froze, startled, eyeing him over her shoulder. His voice was just above a whisper, gravelly and accented, and he said,

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

She was on her tiptoes, reaching for the cups, but as she registered what he said, she slowly lowered herself back down to the tile of her floor, turning to face her neighbor with a look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Price played with the end of her braid, turning the end of it over in his hand, wrapping it up along his knuckles like a rope. He snaked the other hand up underneath her sweatshirt, fingers lingering on her warm belly, searching for the smooth swell of her breast. He told her, snarling,

“If I have to hear him continue to use you like a warm fucking towel, leaving you wanting, I will lose my bloody mind. Call him. Tell him he’s done.”

“You could hear us?” She flushed quickly at that, recalling all of the times she’d been punished for her noises.

“And I always hear you afterwards, after he leaves, making up for his…shortcomings. Bit sad, innit? Needing to take care of yourself when he should be the one looking after you. Time for someone new. Get your phone, love.”

It took her a moment to register what he was suggesting, but she was fed up, too. She smiled at his comment, and she reached for her phone on the countertop.

“Put it on speaker, sweetheart,” he commanded her. She obeyed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Uh, what do you want?” The Boyfriend answered.

“Hey, Dick,” Price snarled, “We got some bad news, lad.”

“I’m breaking up with you, Richard,” she spoke into the phone very clearly, wrapping her free hand around Price’s huge bicep, not able to cover even half of its circumference, exploring him as he fondled her, one fist still holding her plait cruelly.

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“Why?” She scoffed, “Because every time I’ve come, for as long as we’ve been together, has been when you’re not here.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you, bitch. You’re just a -”

“Tha’s enough, Dick,” Price barked into the phone, “Look, no worries, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Click. Price hung up her phone and turned it off, tossing it back across the counter. It made a loud, plasticky bang as it fell. He pressed his heavy erection against her body, crushing her hips with his, and moved his hand back under her jumper, plucking at her nipple like a soft petal, pinching it to make it stand at attention, watching her watch him.

“John, you… you never said anything,” she looked up into his eyes, begging him to tell her the truth he’d kept locked away for months.

“This isn’t even the half of it, girl,” he started to kiss her neck, sucking at her skin, his body writhing on top of hers, mimicking actions it would soon employ once he could get her out of her clothes, “I’ve wanted you for so. Fucking. Long.”

She moaned at the way he was kissing her throat with his bearded mouth, licking her with his long tongue. She cradled his furry cheek in her hand, enjoying the feel of its coarse hairs, whispering to him,

“When he leaves, you’re the one I picture. In my head.”

She might as well have lit a bomb. That was all he needed to hear.

He was strong enough to hoist her up onto the counter with one of his arms, wrapping it around her waist and setting her on the edge, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his huge body in between them. He tugged on her braid, using it to expose her smooth throat. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself.

The captain stood over her, looming like a dark beast, warning her in his quiet, steady voice,

“If I ever, and I mean ever, hear that little prick banging your headboard on my wall again, it’ll be his last day above ground. Am I crystal clear, love?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, a little uncertain how serious he was.

“Good girl.”

Price let go of her hair and scooped her off of the counter, carrying her with her legs locked behind him, through the small flat, and crashed to the bed where she’d just been disappointed. He vowed to her, silently, that he would do anything but disappoint.

Clothes started coming off in peeled layers; shirts, bras, pants, underwear - everything was shucked away like the rind of a melon, leaving only the soft, sticky inside, ripe and ready to be devoured. Price made his way down her body, biting and sucking whenever he wanted to do so, leaving a trail of teeth marks behind. Eventually, he could feel the heat of her pussy against his cheek, and it made him shudder.

He had pulled her phone into his pocket, and now he wanted to twist the knife. He called The Boyfriend and sent his own number straight to voicemail, preparing to leave a delicious message.

As he began to eat her juices, sucking them off her folds like the drippings from a popsicle, he started to hear little mewlings, soft and sweet, but very reserved. He glanced up at the rest of his meal, wondering why she was holding back. Then, he remembered The Boyfriend’s number one rule.

“Look at me,” Price ordered from beneath her thighs.

She hesitated, trying to hide her shame, putting her face in her hands, breathing heavy and ragged.

He reached both hands up to grab her ribs, coming up and out from his position to let her get a better look at him.

“Look at me, love.” It was a softer, lower tone, and she came out of hiding to obey him. He continued to command her, gently, “I want to hear your pleasure, sweetness. The louder you get, the harder I get. I hope the whole bloody city hears you tonight.”

“Are you sure? You like it?” Fuck if he wasn’t about to hunt that man down and execute him, authority or not.

“God, yes, love. Let me make you scream.”

This voicemail was going to be incredible.

He returned to his duty post between her legs, excited to start his work anew. This time, as his tongue worked her open, fucking liquidly in and out of her pink hole, swirling up around her clit, and exploring every hidden gem between them, he listened to her keening. It was soft at first, but then, when he began to stretch her, pushing down with his two, rough fingers, thrusting them slowly in and out, she started to come. Her cries were incredible. She was screaming for him to fuck her, to take her, to do anything to her, and he loved it.

Crawling back over her, Price used his heavy cockhead to paint drooling precome all over her slick slit, soaking himself so he could more easily fit himself into her core. He didn’t want to hurt her, and other lovers had trained him to know that his was big enough to be a weapon.

“That’s my good girl. Do you feel good, you sweet little thing? You’re a fucking dream. Tell me that you’re ready for this cock in you. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, love.”

She was shaking from her orgasm, looking at him, bewildered, and she rushed the words out of her mouth like fire,

“I need it, please. John, I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, please, John. Put your cock in me,” and, like magic, Price obliged. Just as good at taking orders as he was at giving them.

Feeding his length inside of her wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that she was coming while he tried to do it. Price had a hand steadily working her clit, wetly pressing it where she needed it, and she was clenching against him so tightly, like a wet, molten fist, that it nearly pushed him out of her. He grabbed her body, looping his enormous arm behind her back, and shoved her down, locking her against his hips, deliciously impaled.

Her face was twisted into the most beautiful kind of agony, and as she came down from her high, he began to move in her. After she bloomed around his cock, opening like a flower, he was able to fuck into her even deeper, groaning with each of his thrusts. She gasped,

“Oh, God. John, you’re so good. You’re not done yet?”

He laughed, out loud and brazenly, holding her tighter,

“Oh, lovely girl, no. No,” he smiled down at his pretty little neighbor, “Those days are gone. I’m going to be inside of you all fucking night.”

[bebemoon]

look for the name CHEYANNE (requested by @dreamsofalife) | rosie evans super soft machine knit woollen playsuit w/ hand crocheted neckline, kapital japan button-up jacket in beige (c. 199o's), clyde "dia" wide brim woven seagrass sun hat w/ ties, perfumehead "cosmic cowboy" eau de parfum (cinnamon, galbanum, orris butter, angelica root, tobacco, whisky, amber, black musk, suede and white cocoa), r13 slouchy low rider cowboy boots