#Enhancing flavors with coffee

[thecoffeetongue]

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New Post has been published on https://coffeetongue.com/coffee-pairing-101-perfecting-the-art-of-matching-coffee-with-food/

Coffee Pairing 101: Perfecting the Art of Matching Coffee with Food

The purpose of this article is to empower readers with the knowledge and skills necessary to achieve mastery in the delicate craft of harmonizing coffee with food, elevating their culinary experiences to new heights.

  Understanding Flavor Profiles

Coffee encompasses a captivating complexity of flavors, ranging from vibrant acidity to subtle bitterness, delightful sweetness, and enticing aromas. These elements combine to create a symphony of taste that tantalizes the palate and intrigues coffee enthusiasts.

Recognizing and comprehending the distinct flavor profiles present in different coffee beans is paramount to unlocking a world of sensory exploration. By identifying these profiles, coffee lovers can make informed choices about the type of coffee that suits their preferences and desired pairing experiences.

Let’s explore some popular flavor profiles and their accompanying culinary counterparts. For instance, a bright and lively coffee with high acidity, often found in African coffees, pairs wonderfully with citrus-infused desserts or tropical fruits. On the other hand, a deep and robust coffee with a hint of bitterness, characteristic of dark roasts, can stand up to rich and chocolaty desserts or complement hearty dishes like grilled meats or aged cheeses. Additionally, a delicate and floral coffee, known for its fragrant aromas, pairs elegantly with light pastries or floral-infused desserts.

Understanding these flavor profiles not only enriches the appreciation of coffee but also allows for thoughtful and intentional pairings that elevate the overall tasting experience.

  Basic Principles of Coffee Pairing

Coffee pairing is an art that revolves around the fundamental principles of complementing or contrasting flavors. By considering the interplay between the taste profiles of coffee and food, one can create harmonious or intriguing combinations that enhance the overall sensory experience.

The intensity and body of both coffee and food play crucial roles in successful pairings. Matching the intensity ensures that neither the coffee nor the food overpowers the other, allowing for a balanced and cohesive taste experience. Similarly, aligning the body of the coffee with the weight and texture of the food creates a harmonious union, where neither element feels out of place.

Let’s explore some examples of successful coffee and food pairings to illustrate these principles. A light and crisp coffee with bright acidity pairs wonderfully with delicate seafood dishes, such as grilled shrimp or ceviche, as the coffee’s acidity cuts through the richness of the seafood, creating a refreshing combination. Conversely, a bold and full-bodied coffee, like an espresso or a dark roast, can complement the robust flavors of grilled steak or barbecued meats, as their intensity matches the richness and smokiness of the dish.

By applying these basic principles, coffee lovers can experiment with various combinations and discover delightful synergies that elevate the enjoyment of both coffee and food. Whether it’s finding complementary flavors or creating exciting contrasts, understanding and applying these principles enhance the art of coffee pairing.

  Pairing Coffee with Sweet Foods

The harmonious synergy between coffee and sweet treats, such as desserts, pastries, and chocolates, is a delight for the senses. The complex flavors of coffee, including its inherent bitterness, can be beautifully balanced with the sweetness of these indulgent delights.

Achieving a balance between sweetness and bitterness is key in coffee and sweet food pairings. The bitterness of coffee can act as a counterpoint to the sweetness, creating a pleasing contrast that enhances the flavors of both elements. This balance is achieved by selecting coffees with varying levels of bitterness and sweetness, as well as considering the intensity and complexity of the sweet dish.

When it comes to specific recommendations, a rich and velvety espresso pairs wonderfully with a decadent chocolate cake or a fudgy brownie, as the espresso’s bold flavors complement the richness of the chocolate. For lighter, fruit-based desserts like a lemon tart or a berry cheesecake, a coffee with bright acidity and fruity notes, such as a Kenyan or Ethiopian coffee, provides a refreshing and vibrant pairing experience. Additionally, the caramel and toffee notes of a medium roast coffee beautifully enhance the flavors of desserts like crème brûlée or salted caramel desserts.

The possibilities for coffee and sweet food combinations are vast, allowing for a world of exploration and taste sensations. By considering the balance between bitterness and sweetness and experimenting with different coffee profiles, coffee lovers can create memorable pairings that elevate the enjoyment of their favorite sweet treats.

  Pairing Coffee with Savory Foods

Coffee’s versatility extends beyond sweet pairings, as it can also enhance the flavors of savory dishes, including meats, cheeses, and hearty meals. The complexity of coffee, with its acidity, richness, and aroma, creates intriguing interactions with savory flavors.

The acidity in coffee can provide a pleasant contrast or balance to the richness and fattiness of savory foods. It can brighten flavors, cut through heavy textures, and cleanse the palate. The richness in coffee, such as the body and mouthfeel, can complement the savory elements in a dish, adding depth and complexity. Additionally, the aromatic qualities of coffee can contribute to the overall sensory experience, enhancing the aromas of savory ingredients and heightening the enjoyment of the meal.

Some successful coffee and savory food pairings include a medium roast Colombian coffee with a grilled steak. The coffee’s medium acidity and nutty undertones harmonize with the savory flavors of the steak, enhancing its richness. Similarly, a dark roast coffee with smoky notes, like a French roast, complements the bold flavors of barbecued meats or charcuterie boards. The coffee’s robustness cuts through the fattiness and amplifies the savory characteristics. For cheese pairing, a lightly roasted coffee with fruity or floral notes, such as a Yemeni coffee, pairs well with creamy and tangy cheeses like brie or goat cheese.

By exploring the diverse flavors and profiles of both coffee and savory foods, coffee enthusiasts can discover unique and enjoyable pairings. The interplay of acidity, richness, and aroma creates an elevated culinary experience, enhancing the flavors of savory dishes and opening up new avenues of gastronomic delight.

  Exploring Regional Coffee-Food Pairings

Across the globe, diverse cultures have developed unique traditions of coffee and food pairings, reflecting their local culinary practices and flavor preferences. These regional pairings offer a captivating glimpse into the intersection of coffee culture and gastronomy.

In Ethiopia, the birthplace of coffee, a traditional coffee ceremony is accompanied by flavorful snacks like injera (a sourdough flatbread) and dabo kolo (spiced crunchy snacks). This combination celebrates the earthy and fruity notes of Ethiopian coffee while complementing its vibrant acidity.

Moving to Italy, the classic pairing of espresso and biscotti showcases the Italians’ art of savoring strong coffee alongside crispy almond or anise-flavored biscuits. This duo balances the intensity of espresso with the subtle sweetness and crunchy texture of biscotti.

In Turkey, a rich, strong brew known as Turkish coffee is often served with Turkish delight, a confectionary delight made of gelatin and sugar. The bold flavors of the coffee mingle harmoniously with the floral and sweet notes of the Turkish delight, creating a delightful contrast.

Japan offers a unique pairing experience with matcha, a powdered green tea, and wagashi, traditional Japanese sweets. The vibrant and earthy matcha is balanced by the delicate sweetness of wagashi, which can include flavors like red bean paste or matcha-infused ingredients.

These examples highlight the cultural significance and flavor harmonies found in regional coffee and food pairings. Exploring these traditions can broaden our understanding of the global coffee landscape while offering new and exciting taste experiences.

By embracing regional coffee-food pairings, coffee enthusiasts can embark on a flavorful journey that celebrates the rich diversity of global coffee cultures and the remarkable connections between coffee and cuisine.

  Experimenting and Personalizing Coffee Pairings

The world of coffee pairing is ripe with opportunities for exploration and personalization. Encourage readers to embark on their own journey of discovery by experimenting with different coffee and food combinations based on their individual preferences and taste preferences.

Offer practical tips to aid readers in their exploration. Suggest keeping a flavor journal to document their observations and experiences with various pairings. This journal can help identify patterns, preferences, and unexpected discoveries along the way. Encourage readers to seek recommendations from coffee experts, baristas, or specialty coffee shops that can provide insights into unique and successful pairings worth trying.

Highlight the significance of personal taste and enjoyment in the art of coffee pairing. Remind readers that while there are general guidelines and principles to consider, ultimately, it is their own palate and preferences that should guide their choices. Encourage them to trust their instincts, be open to surprises, and celebrate the joy that comes from finding their own perfect coffee and food combinations.

By embracing experimentation and personalization, readers can unlock a world of endless possibilities in coffee pairing. Each individual’s unique preferences and discoveries contribute to the ever-evolving landscape of flavors and pairings, making the coffee experience truly personal and enjoyable.

  Conclusion

Throughout this article, we have explored the art of coffee pairing, delving into its principles and showcasing examples of successful combinations. We have learned about the complexity of coffee flavors, the importance of understanding flavor profiles, and the interplay between coffee and food in both sweet and savory pairings. We have also celebrated regional traditions and encouraged experimentation and personalization in coffee pairing.

As we reach the end of this journey, I invite you to fully embrace the art of coffee pairing. Let your taste buds be your guide as you explore the world of flavors that await you. Coffee is not merely a beverage; it is a gateway to an exquisite sensory experience that can be enhanced when thoughtfully paired with food.

So, as you embark on your own coffee pairing adventures, remember to trust your palate, keep an open mind, and savor the delightful surprises that await you. Elevate your coffee and culinary experiences, and let the harmonious union of coffee and food awaken your senses. Cheers to the endless possibilities and the joy that comes from finding your perfect cup and companion.

In the world of coffee pairing, a symphony of flavors awaits. Indulge in this art form, and may your coffee and culinary journeys be filled with delicious discoveries and moments of pure delight.

[kennys-parka-jacket]

Me when I was 18: omg imagine having a caffiene dependency and having withdrawal symptoms if you don't consume every day. I could never. It's gross how normalized addiction is in this country.

Me at age 22: Texting my friends "sorry for what I said to you before I had my coffee that morning"

[kingwuko]

Wuko's favorite coffee order? Tea order?

OKAY I actually don't drink coffee or tea but I once had a conversation with a friend who does and I think we decided: Mako's just drinking a regular black coffee. Maybe like, a splash of creamer? Wu is self medicating his ADHD with multiple shots of espresso. Wu's drinking something very 'extra' like lots of syrups and flavor and creamer... I'm sorry I don't know anything about coffee am I making sense here...???

[pansydyke]

Literally any time I bake something with chocolate chips in it I eat too many chocolate chips while I’m mixing stuff together and then I feel too sick to eat whatever it is I made

[natalievoncatte]

Kara had a guilty pleasure, one she didn’t share with anyone. It would have been awkward, and besides, everyone- friends, family, Lena; they all would have mocked her, relentlessly. It was the first of September and Kara was bracing herself for six months of the most exquisite torture.

She wasn’t expecting it on Lena’s desk.

When she walked into the office, the scent hit her. It tickled something in her brain and set her nerves alight, cascading shivers of excitement running down her limbs.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. The most obvious implication of this is Kryptonite, or rather the Kryptonite radiation it emits, which is unique to Kara’s lost homeworld and is deadly poisonous to her while being essentially harmless to humans without both significant and prolonged exposure.

There were, however, other things that Kara responded to differently. Certain flavors were too intense; some things her peers found pleasant were overwhelming or inexplicably bitter or otherwise unpalatable. Her enhanced hearing, even without her powers active, made her sensitive to noises that a human wouldn’t even notice. The list went on and on.

One thing in particular, though, was especially… stimulating to her. It got her motor going, as it were. Not like that, of course. Ironically it had the same effect on her that caffeine had on humans, even in small quantities.

There was something in pumpkin spice that excited Kara. Just not like that.

Okay, maybe a little like that. Even the scent of it made her feel things, and there was a steaming hot cup of it on Lena Luthor’s desk.

Kara had been summoned over some editorial matter of little consequence, probably an excuse to chat. When she stepped into her office, Kara stopped dead because Lena reached across her desk and picked up that cup and Kara was already having trouble.

Lena was… Lena. She was dressed in thigh high boots and black jeans and a tight, low cut green sweater that revealed a generous swell of cleavage that immediately drew Kara’s brazen eye. She caught herself looking and quickly put a stop to it, but Lena was looking right at her, smoldering green eyes peering at her over the rim of that damned coffee cup.

Great Rao, Lena was beautiful. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, baring the elegant column of her neck and her sharp jawline. Her visible ear carried multiple piercings dripping with diamonds and there was a faint pink tinge to her pale cheek. The red of her lipstick was almost violent and she positively smoldered. One might have thought she was dolled up for a photo shoot.

Kara was staring at those lips as she took a sip of coffee, leaving a faint white stain on the white cup.

Such a visual feast with the mere scent of the spices in her coffee was enough to weaken Kara’s knees and make her secretly fidget her toes inside her shoes. It was only a quick chat, a five minute conversation, but it was excruciating trying to get through it like this.

“Earth to Kara,” Lena sighed.

Kara blinked. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll go?”

“Where am I going?”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Kara, you’re benched.”

“Wait, what?”

Lena huffed. “Look, it’s noble, going days without sleep while you live your double life, and we did agree that Supergirl duties will take precedence over your work here… but I can see you’re exhausted. I can’t order you to stop rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies with their taxes, but I can order you to take the rest of the week off from working here. Which you are. Starting now.”

Actually, Lena probably could order her to stop doing things. Lena could probably order to do anything with the spicy tang in her nostrils and the quivering weakness in her limbs as heat gathered low in her belly. Kara was glad that she had just been ordered out.

“Oh,” Lena said, “and stop at Noonan’s on your way out. I hear the pumpkin spice lattes are your favorite and well,” she gave her cup a little shake.

Kara decided she would not stop at Noonan’s.

She stopped at Noonan’s. She got a PSL and a pumpkin spice bear claw and a dozen pumpkin spice donuts and consumed them all in the span of five minutes once she set foot inside her loft, after which she spent the next thirty in the shower thinking about Lena’s pillowy red lips and how kissable they were and her pale skin and how badly she wanted to mark it as hers and she sort of spent an hour in a pumpkin spice fueled fugue, and then passed out on her bed buck-ass naked.

Which was where she still was when the knock came at the door.

Her head shot up from the bed and she realized that it was movie night and she was hosting. She had no movies picked out, no snacks, and no clothes.

What she did have was super-speed, and this had a spread of frozen snacks ready to go in the oven, and a stack of blu-rays to be voted on, and pants. She needed pants and probably a bra and definitely a shirt. Humans were weird about their torsos. Fortunately Kryptonians were, too. Kara was rather lucky that she hadn’t landed on a planet that considered shirts obscene.

There were at least two like that, which isn’t a lot, but it was more than you’d think.

Kara opened the door and greeted Alex and Kelly, ushering them in. Brainy and Nia were next.

Lena showed up last, dressed in one of her peculiar movie night fits- a stylish leather jacket over honest to god fluffy pajamas, like a fashion plate going to a slumber party. Her hair was down and wavy and she looked soft and inviting and Kara wanted to snuggle her relentlessly and was very glad that the pumpkin spice was largely out of her system.

Largely.

Oh.

Lena lifted the two six packs she was carrying, giving Kara a suggestive arch of her eyebrow. Lena liked to bring gifts when Kara hosted, usually wine. Tonight she had twelve chilled bottles of… pumpkin spice beer.

Kara wanted to scream. Or possibly moan. Or possibly make Lena moan and maybe spank her a little.

Fuck!

“Hi-hi,” said Kara.

“Hi yourself,” said Lena. “Mind if I come in, or do you want to drink these right here?”

“C-come in,” said Kara.

“Eyyyyyy,” said Alex, as she saw the six packs. “The spice must flow!”

“The spice must flow,” Kelly repeated.

“Chai Hulud,” Nia said, in a faux-deep voice.

“I believe it is “Shai Hulud,” said Brainy.

“Sure, honey,” said Nia, patting his knee.

“You gonna hand those out?” said Alex.

“These are for our host,” said Lena. “Kara has plenty of spirits in her fridge.”

Alex busted out laughing, confusing the others.

Kara remained stone-faced.

Movie night then went on as normal. Everyone took seats, the first movie was voted on, snacks were enjoyed and beers were had. The pumpkin bottles sat in their cardboard holders in the fridge, untouched.

Until they got into the second movie, and Lena sauntered over from the kitchen carrying two bottles, and thrust one into Kara’s hands as she wedged herself in between Kara and Nia, casually tossing her legs over Kara’s lap.

Kara steadfastly did not look. She would not look. She would not look. Surely Lena was just making herself comfortable and private hadn’t noticed that the top couple of buttons on her pajama top had popped themselves and she was showing quite a generous amount of…

Kara looked away sharply. She had looked.

“Do the thing, darling,” said Lena.

“Do the thing! Do the thing! Do they thing!” Nia began to chant.

Sighing, Kara took her bottle and Lena’s, and popped the caps loose with a flock of her thumbs. Lena squealed in delight and Kara realized that actually drinking this concoction was an amazingly terrible idea.

Especially since Lena was basically in her lap now.

Kara tried not to drink, but the hint of that spicy scent from the beer was enough to make every nerve ending tingle and start a fire in her belly. She took a long pull on it and quickly realized she’d drained the bottle in one go.

Lena, grinning, stood up. Kara watched every sway of her hips as she marched to the kitchen, bent to grab another bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and sashayed back to shamelessly plop right in Kara’s lap and offer her the new bottle.

The little display has gotten at least Alex’s attention, and she looked somehow at once horrified and amused and whispered to Kelly, who snorted.

Nia picked up on it next, after Kara had downed her fourth one of the cured pumpkin brews and her brain was sloshing around in sweet cinnamony goodness.

She was running into a considerable problem. Lena was curled up in her lap, draped across her in fact, a soft weight that was driving her absolute insane even as the scent of Lena’s… of Lena mingled with the spices singing in her veins. She forgot the movie. She forgot the existence of everything but Lena, and barely noticed when Alex announced,

“Guys, it’s late. I think we better head out so that Kara and Lena can clean up.”

“Perhaps we should help,” Brainy suggested.

“Nah, let’s go,” said Nia, who then muttered, “seriously Querl we need to go.”

Kara blinked and watched them all pile out, Alex shooting Lena a knowing look before rolling her eyes and closing the door.

Two seconds after the door closed, Lena twisted languidly in Kara’s lap, and was now no longer sitting in her lap but straddling her.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. They also have anatomical structures that humans do not, something that was was currently causing Kara to blush furiously, because Lena was well… sitting on it.

“I can explain,” Kara squeaked.

The look Lena gave her would have been devastating, pumpkin spice or no pumpkin spice. Lena’s face filled her vision as Lena placed her hands on Kara’s sides and rolled her hips, dragging a groan out of her.

“Is that explanation going to include a hands on demonstration?” said Lena. “I may need a few rounds before I fully understand.”

Kara swallowed hard. “You mean… you w-want to…”

“Kara,” Lena sighed. “How is someone who’s been flirting with me for five years so bad at flirting?”

Kara stared at her.

“Just, um, to clarify, you’re flirting with me, right?”

“I’m sitting in your lap unbuttoning my top, darling. I believe that qualifies.”

“You’re what?”

Lena grinned and swept her fingers down her chest, popping the rest of the buttons in sequence. The pajama top suddenly hung lose, baring the lush inner curves of her breasts while obscuring the rest of her in an agonizing promise.

Kara, finally, after years of this, took the hint and had Lena relieved of her fuzzy pajamas by the time they hit the bed.

The next morning, or rather next afternoon when Lena woke up, Kara looked over at her. Her eyes had just opened and she was grinning ear to ear.

“Lena?” said Kara.

“Yes? Before we go again I’m going to need a protein shake and some supplements.”

Kara felt her ears burning as her cheeks heated.

“Did you know about the pumpkin spice thing?”

“Pumpkin spice thing?” said Lena.

“Alex told you, right?”

Lena pursed her lips.

“Nope.”

“Cat Grant?”

“No, although I did ask her and she said you, and I quote, ‘creamed your khakis’ in front of her one time.”

“Then who?”

Lena grinned.

“I went to Clark to ask him the right way to go about seeking your attentions. Lois overheard and pulled me aside. Apparently you two share the same weaknesses.”

“My only weakness is you, baby.”

“Oh, it’s baby now, is it?”

“Yup,” said Kara.

[soldat-buck]

i had a vision while making coffee this morning

bg3 culinary headcanons: Companion Edition

- Shadowheart: absolute zero regard for contamination while cooking. kitchen habits of a permanent bachelor. licks the tasting spoon clean and keeps using it to cook. eats hot cocoa straight out of the container with a spoon. thinks pouring ranch over an entire head of lettuce and eating it like feral animal while holding it over the kitchen sink counts as "salad". if you can get past the contamination thing, the food she makes actually tastes pretty good, even if it's sometimes odd (she cooks like a stoner, despite being perfectly sober. she is just Like That).

- Astarion: perfectly capable of cooking, and actually can cook quite well. food may not taste the same after becoming a vampire, but his enhanced sense of smell tells him nearly everything he needs to know about how to season and cook food properly. he doesn't cook because he doesn't like to (washing dishes? by hand? no fucking thank you, being undead is harsh enough on the nails and skin. finding a good lotion for normal undead dryness is already impossible)

- Lae'zel: in the modern world, if her life took her in a chef direction, she'd be in a Michelin star restaurant as the world's best and most terrifying sous chef. she absolutely would throw a knife at you for fucking up her plating (she'd intentionally miss. the first time). no nonsense is ever tolerated in her kitchen, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's got temper issues (her coldness and lack of tantrums is what makes her terrifying). she'd put Gordon Ramsay in his place for his rage theatrics and then make him weep with joy after serving him the most competent omelet he's ever had in his life. if she likes you, you may address her as "Yes, Chef!" outside of the kitchen.

- Karlach: uses 4 pots to make ramen. not because she's doing anything fancy or elaborate with it, the first pot was too small and started boiling over (whoops). the second one was, oh hold on, that's a cast iron pan, maybe you're not supposed to use that for boiling liquids, huh? wait shit, can't use this one either, i'm not supposed to use metal spoons on nonstick, don't want to scratch it. There we go! this one is the right size! and if i scratch this one, it's fine! wait, where the fuck did the flavor packet go (you should definitely be concerned about leaving her alone for the weekend)

- Wyll: very resourceful cook due to his Blade of the Frontier days. can improvise a meal out of damn near anything. can identify every edible plant and mushroom and tell you how to use it in a dish. would carry an herb garden in his adventure pack if he could. would absolutely thrive on the show Chopped (he's actually banned from auditioning again because it's not fair to the other competitors to have him on). he could make you a dessert featuring rattlesnake and fresh picked clover, and you don't know how or why, but you actually like it

- Gale: approaches the kitchen the same way he approaches most things in his life - academically. knows the proper safe temperature to cook meats/etc to, knows how to brown an onion, knows what seasonings are typically used together for certain flavor profiles and how to match seasonings to proteins. knife work sucks because he uses mage hand for mise en place and his mage hand has shitty DEX, but he's scared of his chef knife from the one time he sliced his thumb open (he was cutting an onion with improper hand placement and the knife slipped)

- Minsc: would exclusively eat by dumpster diving if it weren't for Boo's disapproval. eats like a human garbage disposal. he will eat a n y t h i n g that fits in his mouth, he is the least picky eater you will ever meet. does not understand how food challenges in the show Fear Factor are supposed to be challenges

- Halsin: world class forager. very competent hunter. prefers to eat everything as raw as possible. understands but doesn't believe in strict food safety because obviously stomach acid kills germs (and anyway, a little dirt here and there never killed anyone; exposure to germs is good for your immune system). open-mouthed kissing him is gambling with your health. makes the best vegetarian salads but do not trust any chicken he has "cooked". people with weak CON might want to consider avoiding his food

- Jaheira: uses Talk to Animals to Cinderella/Ratatouille rodents in the kitchen. she commands them like she's in perilous battle and the entire world is at stake (also rodents are worse to direct than cats, they do not know the difference between left and right. there's a lot of "No! Not that cupboard, the other one! NO, the OTHER other one! Flank him, he's off balance!"). making a cup of tea is a convoluted, stressful process that takes 10 times longer than just boiling the damn water yourself

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Absolute Edition

[reality-detective]

‼️NO WHITE SALT‼️

☕️Taste a cup of coffee infused with the benefits of Himalayan salt!

And you will never go back!

Not only does the salt enhance the flavor of your coffee by bringing out its natural sweetness and reducing bitterness,

😲But it also :

• Provides you a boost of electrolytes

• Improved hydration

• Reduced muscle cramping

🤷‍♂️How to do it?

– Simply sprinkle a pinch (about 1/8 tsp) of Himalayan salt on top of your coffee grounds before brewing.

(For one cup)

🤔How does it work?

Himalayin salt reduces the acidity’s of coffee because It contains minerals like :

• Calcium

• Magnesium

• Potassium

Which also help overall health and well-being.

Give it a try and see the difference it makes in your morning routine! 🤔

[ssahotchnerr]

This scene but Hotch is dating reader 🥺 it's pretty new, but everyone can already see the change in him, and everyone just wants to know the amazing woman that has given them some weekends off 🤭

subtleties

hehe i had to write a lil thing for this, kinda a different take but still very similar! cw; none! just how the team notices aaron is in love <33

there had been a shift.

one day, it was just there. the bullpen seemed a bit brighter, the atmosphere was lacking it's usual apprehensiveness, even the provided coffee seemed more flavorful- not as bland and definitely not as tart.

and no one could figure out why.

dave was the first. and since, well, dave was dave, it didn't take long for him to question the matter at hand. all he had to do was forwardly ask, and the expression he received in return told him everything he needed to know. he also gained the immunity otherwise known as bragging rights- in case anyone asked, he knew all along.

the next telltale, as pointed out by penelope and caused all heads to turn- a newfound, frequent smile. the usual, timid frown was still persistent, it hadn't become a stranger and probably never would, but the ability to pull a smile wasn't as challenging. it made it's presence multiple times a day, comparable to the past where a smile typically appeared a few times within a month.

in accompaniment, a softened gaze. the harsh lines drawn between his eyebrows had seemingly faded. he looked younger. happier.

one could only imagine how surprised the team was receiving the instructions they could leave early if they so desired one friday night, including the "action reports can wait until monday" a double-take was necessary; did they hear correctly? monday? a whole three days away? accordingly, it became the new normal. as long as the group of them weren't called away at the hands of serial killers, weekends lived up to their name and purpose.

dutifully, even more questions arose. rumors were traded. and everyone had a feeling- only one thing could be the origin.

with a schedule dictated by serial killers, abrupt departures were never a surprise, but heavily inconvenient when preoccupied. no matter the hour, one had to drop everything and go.

once all were settled and en route, it consumed the air. an aroma that was sweet and playful- a touch of berries, jasmine, sandalwood. the close quarters of the jet was never shy in terms of enhancing sights, sounds and smells, so it didn't take long for it to be noticeable.

"what is that?" derek said suddenly with a scrunch of his nose.

spencer didn't skip a beat, not even bothering to look up from the novel in his grasp. "what is what?"

"someone doesn't smell like themselves."

"you smell your colleagues?" emily snorted out a laugh.

"no." derek balled up a scrap of paper within reach, chucking it at her. "call me a profiler, but haven't you gotten used to, i don't know... we all have our signature scents, you know? whatever that is, it's new. and strong."

dave presented a knowing smirk of a smile, side eyeing the culprit, who was also doing his hardest to refrain from smiling. but again, in the constricted space of the jet, it was visible to everyone. in addition, it promptly confirmed the rumor that had been circling the past few weeks.

"hotch?" derek pushed, raising his eyebrows in question but with a knowing expression on his face.

"maybe you should save your keen observation skills for when we land, morgan." aaron shrugged as he studied the file in his lap, the smallest of grins pulling at the corner of his mouth. "it could do you some good."

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Heyy I absolutely love your writings! I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to write something with young Cillian and older, more experienced fem reader.

Ageless Beauty

(27) Cillian Murphy x (40) F! Past Model Reader Summary: Cillian just has a really amazing girlfriend, who loves him so~ Wordcount: 5.3k Warnings: She’s like 6’2 btw

smut, sub! Cillian, sloppy kissing, jerking off, handjobs, edging, moaning, whimpering, whining, begging, lap sitting, teasing, dommy mommy?!.

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the cozy living room. Cillian lay sprawled on the couch, his long limbs comfortably stretched out as he held a book in his hands.

It was one she had recommended to him a week ago, a captivating novel that had quickly drawn him in. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his blue eyes moved swiftly across the pages, absorbed in the story. In the kitchen, the sounds of breakfast being prepared filled the air. The sizzle of bacon, the gentle clatter of pans, and the aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee created a comforting symphony that blended perfectly with the quiet morning. She moved gracefully around the kitchen, her tall, statuesque figure a testament to her past as a runaway model. Despite her glamorous history, she was down-to-earth and sweet, qualities that Cillian adored about her.

"Honey~..." Her voice was a melodic call from the kitchen, cutting through the tranquil silence.

"Hm-?" Cillian peeped his head over the back of the couch, his curiosity piqued. He saw her in the kitchen, now plating their breakfast with a practiced ease. She turned her head to look at him, her high sitting-bun bobbing with each movement, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She gestured toward the dining table, where she had already set out the plates. "Breakfast is ready, come on over."

Cillian smiled, dog-eared the page of his book, and placed it carefully on the couch. He quickly walked around the couch, his movements fluid and eager. As he approached the table, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of her already sitting down and taking a bite of her breakfast. She looked stunning, almost ethereal, her natural beauty enhanced by the simplicity of the morning.

"God, you look so pretty," he thought to himself, marveling at how she could look like a model even in such a casual setting. Well, after all she was one some years ago. Her hair, tied up in a high ponytail, swung gently with every little motion she made, adding an element of playfulness to her elegance.

He took his seat across from her, his eyes still drinking in the sight of her. She had made an impressive spread – homemade pancakes, crispy bacon, perfectly cooked eggs, toast, and of course, the freshly brewed coffee that now filled the room with its rich aroma. The sight and smell of the breakfast made his stomach growl in anticipation. She suddenly remembered something. "Crap- the coffee..." She got up swiftly, her movements graceful despite the urgency. She poured two cups of coffee, making each to their own liking – his with just a splash of milk and a touch of sugar, hers black and strong. She walked back to the table, balancing the cups with ease.

Cillian reached out for his cup, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it from her. "Thank you, love," he said, his Irish accent giving the words a soft, musical quality.

She smiled softly, her eyes warm with affection. "Sorry for forgetting it, truly," she said, her voice filled with genuine contrition.

He took a sip of the coffee, savoring the perfect balance of flavors. "No need to apologize, it's perfect," he assured her, his eyes meeting hers with a look of gratitude. "You always make the best coffee."

She chuckled, a light, airy sound that filled the room. "I try my best," she said, taking a sip of her own coffee. She watched him as he began to eat, noting the way he seemed to relish every bite. It made her happy to see him enjoying the meal she had prepared. As they ate, they chatted about the book he was reading, about how the characters and plot had gripped him. He animatedly described a particular scene, his hands gesturing as he spoke, his blue eyes bright with enthusiasm. She listened intently, a smile playing on her lips, loving how passionate he got about things that interested him.

He paused for a moment, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I love mornings like this," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Just you and me, a good book, and an amazing breakfast."

She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. "Me too, Cill," she said softly. "It's the little things that make life special."

He nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "Absolutely," he agreed. "It's these moments that I treasure the most."

They continued to eat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the occasional sip of coffee. The comfortable quiet was a testament to their deep connection, a bond that didn't always need words to be felt. After finishing their breakfast, she leaned back in her chair, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "That was delicious," she said, a satisfied smile on her face. "I think I might have outdone myself this time."

Cillian laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room. "You always outdo yourself," he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Every meal you make is a masterpiece."

She blushed slightly at the compliment, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink. "You're too kind," she said, her voice soft.

Cillian lay comfortably on the couch, the soft blanket enveloping him and his girlfriend as they watched a show together. Her long arms wrapped around him, making her the big spoon—a role reversal he found endearing and comforting. He nestled closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his back. The flicker of the TV screen cast a gentle glow over the living room, but his thoughts began to drift away from the show.

"Hey... uhh, do you still have those modeling photos of you?" he asked, his voice low and casual, with a hint of curiosity.

She looked at him with a playful smile. "Yeah, Cill...? Where are we going with this?"

"I just wanted to look at them again... is that okay?" he replied, his Irish accent softening the edges of his words.

"Oh, it's okay most definitely," she said, her smile widening as she gazed into his eyes.

He smiled back, a dreamy expression on his face as he found himself lost in her beautiful brown eyes. She always had that effect on him, pulling him into a trance with just a glance.

"Cill—hello..." she called out, breaking his reverie.

He snapped back to reality, blinking a few times. "Yeah, sorry for that, kinda got lost in your eyes again..."

She blushed heavily, her cheeks turning a rosy shade. It was easy to make her blush, but with him, it was like she melted in his hands whenever he complimented her, even with the corniest lines.

"Well, scoot over so I can get up to go get the photos you wanted to look at," she said, nudging him gently.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," he murmured, shifting to give her space.

She stood up gracefully, her height and poise evident as she walked away from the living room and into the hallway. She headed to the closet where she stored the photos, in a big old shoebox. Opening the door, she didn't even have to stand on her tiptoes like he did; she simply reached up and grabbed the box with ease. Closing the door, she turned and sauntered back to him, her model's walk still as seductive as ever. Cillian watched her with a mixture of admiration and longing, his eyes tracing the graceful lines of her body. She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs in a crisscross applesauce position, and he quickly moved to sit in her lap. She rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck as she opened the shoebox; Sending shivers down his spine.

Inside were polaroids and glossy photo cards, some signed by other models she admired at the time. Cillian picked up a photo, his fingers brushing lightly over the image. "Drop dead gorgeous... truly," he said, his voice tinged with awe.

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit he had whenever he felt overwhelmed by his emotions. She noticed his unease but couldn't immediately tell why. She stroked his arm soothingly, her touch gentle and reassuring.

"You okay, love?" she asked softly, her concern evident in her tone.

"Yeah, just... it's incredible, y'know? Seeing these photos, how beautiful you are... it's a bit overwhelming," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on the picture in his hand.

She smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "Well, I’m right here, Cill. You don’t need to look at photos to see me."

"I know, but... it's like seeing a different side of you. The confident, glamorous model. It's mesmerizing," he said, finally tearing his gaze away from the photo to look at her.

She chuckled, a soft, melodious sound. "You’re sweet, you know that?"

"Only for you…" he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They spent the next few minutes going through the photos, each one sparking a memory or a story. He listened intently as she recounted the moments behind the images, her voice a soothing background to the vivid memories. His fingers traced the edges of the photos, feeling the texture of the glossy paper, each touch grounding him in the reality of the moment. As they delved deeper into the box, Cillian came across a particularly striking photo. It was a black-and-white shot of her in a high-fashion pose, her eyes fierce and captivating. He held it up, showing it to her. "This one... this one's my favorite."

She looked at it and nodded, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "That was one of my first big shoots. I remember being so nervous."

"Didn't look it. You look like you own the world," he said, his admiration clear.

"Thanks, Cill," she said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

He turned his head slightly, catching her lips with his. The kiss was tender and slow, a gentle reaffirmation of their love. When they finally pulled apart, they both smiled, the connection between them stronger than ever.

Cillian's head leaned back against her chest, the cool touch of the glossy photos lingering in his mind, each image a stark reminder of her breathtaking beauty. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh, trying to calm the stir of emotions and the physical reaction her presence provoked. The photos, scattered and half-organized in the box, told a story of a time when she was the center of every room, every catwalk, every camera’s eye. The allure of her long legs, the confidence in her eyes, the elegance in every pose – it was almost too much to take in all at once. She reached out with her long, graceful arms, gathering the remaining photos, her movements fluid and almost hypnotic. Her fingers delicately traced the edges of the glossy prints, her touch gentle yet decisive, a testament to the control and poise she’d mastered over the years. As she slid the box across the couch, the subtle rustle of the photos inside was the only sound breaking the silence between them. Her presence, her scent, the warmth of her body enveloping him – it was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

Cillian shifted slightly, trying to adjust his position on her lap without drawing attention to the growing discomfort. He clenched his jaw, his breath hitching as he felt a flush of heat rise to his face. "Fuck... fuck..." he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible, a desperate attempt to release some of the tension.

She tilted her head, her eyes softening with concern as she looked down at him. "What’s the matter, baby?" Her voice was soothing, a gentle caress that only intensified the turmoil within him.

"Nothing—" he started, his voice faltering as he tried to brush off her question, the lie hanging heavy between them.

"Don’t lie to me because it doesn’t sound like nothing," she insisted, her tone firm yet tender, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, grounding him with her touch.

He turned his head away, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. His hand instinctively moved to cover his crotch, a futile attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal. "I didn’t think it would have this bad effect on me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Last time it wasn’t as bad; but you get the idea..."

Her eyes widened slightly in understanding, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Ohhhhh—sorry...?" she offered, a mix of amusement and empathy in her voice.

He couldn’t help but chuckle softly, despite his discomfort. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly making it easy, love," he replied, his Irish accent thickening with the hint of a smile.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, her breath warm against his skin. "You’re too sweet, you know that?" she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. "But you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s just us."

Cillian felt a wave of relief wash over him at her words. She had a way of making everything seem less daunting, her presence a calming balm to his frayed nerves. He shifted again, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the heat between them was undeniable.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his arm.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Not much to talk about, really. Just... you’re stunning, and it’s a bit overwhelming sometimes."

She smiled softly, her fingers gently brushing a lock of his dark hair behind his ear. The intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes, filled with tenderness and a hint of nostalgia, met his. He could see the memories playing out behind those eyes, the life she had lived and the stories those photos told. She took a deep breath, the rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm against his back.

"Do you want me to help get rid of it?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.

Her question hung in the air, the implications of it settling heavily on his mind. His breathing quickened, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. It was as if a bomb had been set off inside his mind, the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had been grappling with his own dirty demons, the weight of his thoughts becoming just too much to bear. Her offer was both a lifeline and a challenge, a way to confront the painful arousal that had been gnawing at him.

"Pl-please..it hurts..like a lot," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. His beautiful blue eyes, usually so calm and composed, were now filled with a painful arousal. The vulnerability in his gaze was a stark contrast to the confident man the world knew him to be.

Her gentle chuckle broke the silence, a melodic sound that reverberated through his chest as she leaned back, pulling him with her. Cillian’s head came to rest against her collarbone, his eyes closing as he savored the comfort of their closeness. Her fingers traced idle patterns along his arm, a tender touch that sent shivers down his spine. He felt her lips, soft and warm, press against the crook of his neck. The sensation was electric, a sweet torment that made his breath hitch. She started slow, her kisses light and delicate as they traveled from his neck to his collarbone. Each touch of her lips was a promise, a silent declaration of her affection. Cillian’s body responded instinctively, a low, throaty sound escaping his lips. She loved these moments, the intimacy of their connection, and the way he surrendered so completely to her touch. His reactions were always genuine, unfiltered, and today was no different.

“A-ah… d-don’t tease me like that…” he murmured, his voice a blend of plea and desire. His Irish accent thickened by the urgency of his words. He fumbled with the strings of his sweatpants, the double knot proving to be a stubborn obstacle. His fingers, usually so deft and capable, now felt clumsy and ineffectual.

She watched him with a mix of amusement and affection, her kisses never ceasing even as he struggled. Her breath was warm against his skin, each exhale a caress that left him trembling. The sound of his frustration, tinged with longing, was a melody to her ears. She reached down, her fingers brushing against his, and gently pushed his hands away.

“Let me help you,” she whispered against his skin, her voice low and soothing. She took the strings in her hands, deftly untying the knot with practiced ease. His eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked up at her. There was gratitude in his gaze, but also something deeper, a reflection of the bond they shared.

Cillian's breath hitched as he felt her delicate fingers curl around his throbbing cock, the thin barrier of his boxers doing little to diminish the intensity of her touch. His head leaned back against her shoulder, exposing the sharp line of his jaw and the column of his throat. Each breath he took was ragged, labored, as if she were stealing the very air from his lungs with every deliberate stroke. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the warmth of her body enveloping him as he sat nestled in her lap. Her soft chuckle vibrated through his back, sending shivers down his spine. Her fingers danced over the vein running the length of his shaft, the touch maddeningly light, yet electrifying. His body reacted instinctively, a guttural moan escaping his parted lips as he grunted, the sound echoing through the quiet room. His right hand clung to her thigh, nails digging into her flesh as a means of anchoring himself to the reality of the moment. The sensation was almost too much to bear, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain. He bit down on his lower lip, the sharp sting grounding him momentarily. But it wasn't long before he was lost again, drowning in the sensation of her hand teasing him through his thin boxers.

"Jesus Christ, love," he muttered, his voice a gravelly whisper, thick with his Irish accent. "You're gonna be the death of me."

Her laugh was a melodic counterpoint to his rough voice, a sweet sound that only heightened his arousal. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, "Would that be such a bad way to go, Cillian?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing, his hand tightening its grip on her thigh. "No, darlin', it wouldn't be a bad way at all." His words were barely coherent, each syllable strained with the effort to maintain some semblance of control.

Cillian’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing quickened with anticipation. His usually composed demeanor was replaced by a raw vulnerability, a stark contrast to the confident, enigmatic persona he often displayed. He tilted his head back slightly, feeling the gentle yet firm pressure of her thumb as it brushed against the damp spot that was from the tip of his cock, it had been enough pre-cum to soak through the boxers fabric. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine, causing his breath to hitch momentarily. His eyes fluttered closed, the intensity of the moment overwhelming his senses.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. The faint brush of her lips against his skin made his heart race even faster. “Come on, pretty boy, let mommy hear that pretty voice you have~” Her words were a soft murmur, a blend of teasing and command that sent a jolt of desire through him. Her voice, smooth and sweet, carried a hint of an accent, a reminder of her past, exotic and alluring.

A low, involuntary moan escaped his lips, his body responding to her touch and words in a way that he couldn’t control. He felt her smile against his ear, a satisfied hum of approval vibrating through her chest. She loved drawing these reactions from him, reveling in the power she held over him in these intimate moments. Her thumb continued its slow, deliberate movements, each stroke eliciting a new wave of pleasure that coursed through his body. Cillian’s hands clutched both of her thighs, his nail’s digging into her soft flesh, as he tried to anchor himself. His mind was a whirlwind of sensations and emotions, the line between pleasure and torment blurring with each passing second. He let out another soft moan, his voice cracking slightly. “Ah… please…” His accent thickened, the desperation clear in his voice. He wasn’t sure what he was pleading for – release, more, or perhaps a moment to catch his breath – but he knew he needed something from her, something only she could provide.

Cillian's breathing was ragged, each exhale a shaky sigh as he felt her fingers tugging at the waistband of his boxers. The anticipation was electric, his body buzzing with a mixture of nerves and desire. He tilted his head back, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he closed them, trying to steady his racing heart. His usually composed facade was stripped away, leaving him vulnerable and exposed under her gaze. She pulled his boxers down, then gently but painfully slowly, pulling down his sweatpants; the cool air hitting his throbbing cock and causing it to twitch in response. A low groan escaped his lips, the sound raw and unfiltered. He opened his eyes, the intensity of the moment reflected in his stormy blue gaze. She wrapped her hand around his cock, her touch light and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. His breath hitched, his body tensing with anticipation. His breath stuttered, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he glanced down at himself. His cock, rigid and throbbing, was a testament to his arousal, the tip glistening with pre-cum. The sight was almost embarrassing, yet intensely arousing. Her soft, amused hum reverberated through him, a sound that both comforted and tantalized.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that sent shivers down his spine. "Such a mess, my sweet boy." Her fingers wrapped around his length, her grip firm but not tight, just enough to make him keenly aware of every inch of his arousal. She wrapped her slender fingers around his length, her touch light and teasing at first. The initial contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, his hips instinctively bucking towards her hand. She began to stroke him slowly, agonizingly slowly, her movements deliberate and controlled. Each stroke was a tantalizing mix of pleasure and frustration, the pace just enough to keep him on edge but not enough to push him over it. He bit his lip, trying to stifle the whimpers that threatened to escape his throat, his body trembling with the effort.

Cillian's head fell back against her shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to steady his breathing. Each stroke was a maddening tease, a promise of more that was always just out of reach. He could feel his body responding to her touch, his hips bucking involuntarily in an attempt to increase the friction. A low, desperate moan escaped his lips, his voice thick with need. "Please... please, faster..." His accent, thick with desperation, added an extra layer of rawness to his plea.

"Shh... mommy knows what she's doing, baby," she murmured, her voice a soft, soothing purr in his ear. The words sent a shiver down his spine, his mind spinning at the mixture of affection and dominance in her tone. He could feel the corners of her lips curve into a smile against his neck, her breath warm and tantalizing.

Her thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of his cock, eliciting a sharp gasp from his lips. "Patience, pretty boy," she cooed, her tone a blend of affection and command. "You'll get what you need, but in my time." Her words were a balm and a torment, a reminder of the power she held over him in this intimate exchange. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into the softness of her skin. The sensation of her skin beneath his touch grounded him, a tether in the storm of his arousal. Her strokes continued, each one a deliberate, calculated move to bring him closer to the edge without letting him tip over. The pleasure was intense, a slow burn that spread through his entire body, leaving him trembling with need.

"Please..." he whispered again, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, I need you..."

He felt a mix of frustration and exhilaration, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensations. The need for release was a constant, throbbing ache, yet there was a thrill in surrendering to her control, in knowing that she held the power to give or withhold pleasure at her whim. His breathing grew ragged, each inhale a struggle as he fought to keep from begging outright. His hands clutched at her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh as if seeking an anchor.

"God, you're beautiful like this," she whispered, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "So desperate, so needy... my perfect little slut." The words sent a jolt of arousal through him, his cock twitching in her hand. He let out a whimper, a sound that was part plea, part surrender. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, the precipice of release looming ever closer, yet she kept him suspended in that exquisite agony, her touch never faltering.

Her free hand trailed up his shirt and his chest, fingers dancing lightly over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She pinched his nipple, the sudden spike of pain mingling with the pleasure, intensifying the sensations coursing through him. "Such a good boy," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm even as her actions drove him to the brink of insanity. "Just let go, Cill~ Let mommy take care of you." He was trembling now, his body a live wire of sensation. Each stroke of her hand, each whisper in his ear, was a step closer to the edge, a step further into the abyss of pleasure and surrender. He could feel his muscles tensing, the heat pooling in his core, building to a crescendo. His moans grew louder, each one a desperate plea for release. "Please... I can't... I need..."

"Not yet," she chided gently, her pace slowing even further, if that were possible. The denial was exquisite torture, his entire body screaming for the release she denied him. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, the intensity of the need overwhelming. "Trust me, love. Trust that I know exactly what you need."

He did trust her, implicitly. Even in the throes of this agonizing pleasure, he knew she had his best interests at heart, knew that she would take him to heights he couldn't reach on his own. Her strokes became a fraction faster, a fraction firmer, each movement a promise of the release that still eluded him. "That's it, baby," she murmured, her voice soft and sultry. “You're doing so well. Just a little longer." He could hear the affection in her tone, the pride in his submission, and it spurred him on, gave him the strength to endure. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity as she continued her slow, torturous rhythm. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His moans were a constant stream now, a symphony of need and surrender. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, the precipice of release looming ever closer, yet still just out of reach.

"Please... I need... please, just a little faster," he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. " I can't... I need to cum... please, let me cum..." His words tumbled out in a frantic stream, each plea more urgent than the last. He was beyond pride, beyond any sense of dignity, reduced to a quivering, needy mess in her hands.

She smiled, a slow, predatory smile that he could feel more than see. "Not yet, love. Just a bit longer. I want to see you break for me."

His eyes squeezed shut, his mind a haze of need and desire. He could feel the pressure building, a relentless force that threatened to consume him. Every fiber of his being ached for release, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. "Please..." he whispered again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I need it... I can't take it anymore... please..."

"Shh, just a bit longer," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "You're doing so well, my love. Just hold on for me." Her words were a mix of praise and command, the authority in her tone making his cock twitch in her hand. He could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled and strained under her touch. It was a beautiful sight, a testament to the power she held over him.

"God, please... I need to cum... I need it so bad," he moaned, his voice breaking with desperation. "Please, I'm begging you... let me cum.." His accent was thick, the desperation clear in his tone. He was on the brink, the edge so close he could almost taste it. His body ached for release, every muscle straining with the effort to hold back.

She smiled, her hand finally quickening its pace. "That's it, baby. Let go for me." Her words were a command, a promise, a lifeline. He could feel the tension in his body snap, the coil of desire unraveling as his orgasm crashed over him. His moans filled the living room, a symphony of pleasure and relief as he spilled into her hand.

With a final, forceful thrust in her hand; Cillian cried out, his voice a mix overstimulation and pleasure. His body convulsed, the release hitting him like a tidal wave, washing over him with a near blinding intensity. Ropes upon ropes of hot, sticky cum spilled out from his twitching cock, coating her pretty hand, his stomach, his boxers & sweatpants and I bit of the couch. The once well put together Cillian Murphy was now a panting and groaning mess, a stark contrast to his own otherwise calmness an hour before. His hands and nails had practically dug all the way through her thighs; He probably broke skin as well, he couldn’t help it the way she had a hold on him; was a death sentence but he didn’t mind dying a couple of times.

"Are you okay, Cillian?" Her voice, soft and caring, broke the peaceful silence that just blanketed them after the very intimate moment, they just had. Her fingers gently stroked his hair, a gesture of reassurance that grounded him in reality.

He tilted his head back and he looked up at her with a faint smile, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and awe. "I think I just died and came back," he admitted in a hushed tone, his Irish accent coloring his words with a touch of poetic charm. His thumb trembled slightly as he raised it in a shaky thumbs-up gesture, a playful attempt to lighten the mood.

Author's Notes:

We love same day delivery! Also yay, I love getting requests! TYSM I LOVE YOU POOKIE!! 27 is like young right? but hey he’s 48 and looks 38; idk man

But the funniest thing is, is I dead ass had a dream that somebody was gonna ask for a request! I guess I have intuition.

BTW I CANNOT REALLY SEE HIM AS A DOM UNLESS ITS IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS..HE’S EITHER A SWITCH! OR A WHINY SUB!!

[thickness-protection-program]

My toxic trait is I love trying trash foods and things that sound poisonous, so I grabbed the oreo coke and the coke oreos. Coke oreo was better since it kind of tasted like weird vanilla coke. Coke oreos had a weird citrus flavor that veered a bit too close to lysol for my liking. It did have pop rocks though, which is fun.

Any time there's a new weird soda abomination I HAVE to try it. But if we're talking about weird coke combos, I'm surprised coffee coke was so nasty. Having a few sips of coffee before drinking some coke enhances the flavor but I guess they lose the magic when actually combined

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The Oleato replaces creamer with a spoonful of olive oil. Starbucks says that its Partanna extra virgin olive oil has “an unexpected, velvety, buttery flavor” that enhances the coffee “and lingers beautifully on the palate.” 

https://www.verywellhealth.com/starbucks-olive-oil-coffee-7153117#:~:text=Starbucks%20recently%20announced%20a%20new,from%20mixing%20it%20with%20coffee.

[dyke-will-graham]

Just mustered up the courage to rewatch episode 6 of Good Omens 2 and I have a whole new slew of thoughts. Whole new slew of observations.

One:

Metatron orders an oat milk latte with almond milk. Which, is a pretty specific drink for someone who is just ordering a coffee Aziraphale. So I got to thinking, and I went digging.

Biblically and spiritually Oats were thought to represent feelings of safety, enhancing an individuals feelings of comfort and safety in dire situations. A comfort food.

On the other hand, almonds represent purity and the ability to have be more godly and holy. To make more godly decisions or, in this instance, heavens decisions.

Metatron is no fool, he knew exactly what he was doing. Stating earlier in the shop when Nina said no one picked death responding with “I don’t suppose they do, so predictable.” And later on when he offers Aziraphale the drink commenting “oh yes I better think so.” When Aziraphale comments on its lovely flavor.

If Aziraphale is anything, it’s gluttonous. He enjoys food and drink and good company and comfort from things he takes pleasures in. So of course Metatron’s olive branch from heaven would come in the form of a cup of coffee.

Two:

“I’ve consumed a few things in my time.”

This is such a strange line to me, it felt too on the nose and sinister. Metatron stares at Aziraphale drinking the coffee and says this. And I don’t think for a moment he is referring to food. Being the voice of god, I’m sure he has dealt with a great deal many angels and demons. Probably without any parties aware of it, maybe even the almighty herself being unaware.

Three:

When The Breakup happens and Metatron walks into the bookshop he says :

“He always did like going his own way, asking all those questions.” When referring to Crowley.

This is SUPER DUPER interesting to me because it implies, really, Crowley’s only crime against heaven was asking questions. Which we knew to an extent form Crowleys own claims on the matter but for it to be confirmed this way felt gut wrenching. Crowley is and never has been evil or demonic. He was curious and that was punishable in heavens eyes to be cast down.

Four:

When Metatron and Aziraphale are leaving there are so so so many times Aziraphale looks for a way out. Broken sentences, body language facing away and out towards Crowley. His glances always in Crowleys direction, like a child being pulled in two directions and unable to voice properly what they want. Which is exactly what the situation is, isn’t it?

I think, as a fandom, we sort of glossed over the trauma Aziraphale endures as a being who remains to be an angel. Heaven, his home, a toxic parent beckoning you with the promise of a warm hug after a millennia of beatings. But nevertheless the promise of that warmth is so tempting. And we know, Aziraphale is STARVING. Starving for anything, he always has been. Especially acceptance from Heaven.

And Crowley represents everything he ever wanted, unconditional and without hesitation. But, there’s still a sense of fear within Aziraphale regarding his love for Crowley. A guilt, and the high he was feelings from seeing Beezlebub and Gabriel do what he always wanted wore off horribly fast at the prospect of eliminating that guilt by restoring Crowleys angelic grace. Which is something we all know was a lie.

Five:

I don’t think the coffee had any sort of mind control anything within it. Metatron didn’t need to do that. He just needed to show what the coffee represented. It was quite simple of a task, so the Coffee Theory is out.

Six:

The elevator fade out is SO IMPORTANT. Because Crowleys expression doesn’t change, he’s hit rock bottom he’s alone with no amount of fresh information to tell him otherwise. For all he knows life as it’s been for all these 6000 years is over.

But Aziraphale’s does, quite a lot actually. It goes from shock, to stoic determination to straight up smirking. We know, from all we have seen of him that at his core Aziraphales motives lie in love and the desire to look after Earth and people. He is a being driven by what angels are supposed to be driven by. That’s his crime, that’s why Metatron had to get him away from Earth. But at the prospect of the Second Coming, Aziraphales motives suddenly become quite evident. He spared a glance at Crowley, which is pivotal to the moment. It’s saying so much. If he had meant to just go to Heaven and never return why look at Crowley? It’s like a romance scene, breakup in the rain with the question: which one of us has the courage to turn around? Crowley never looked away, Aziraphale spared that glance.

Stopping the end is he and Crowleys jobs, the protect humanity, they have their own rules. Aziraphale knows that, he trusts that ability. But he knows he can’t do that if he doesn’t go along with whatever is happening in Heaven. The best way for him to figure out how to stop this is to go into the belly of it.

That brings me back to this line:

“Oh, but saving me makes him so happy.”

Aziraphale has a plan, like always does, and this time it won’t be Crowley saving him. But him saving Crowley.

That glance was a promise.

THE END THANKS FOR MY RANT ALMOST THREE MONTHS POST BOOKSHOP DIVORCE.

[yudrein-aile]

Meta: Qualitea in the Orr Empire

Let’s talk tea customs of the Orr Empire. As an avid lover of tea myself, reading Turning was quite entertaining as I could project all my silly little tea headcanons on the characters (but ask me about those another time). From early on in the novel, we see that the Orr Empire does have a distinct tea culture, so this meta will take a look at what teas they drink, what their tea culture looks like, and how skilled our protagonists are at preparing tea (spoiler: they’re not. Everyone say “thank you, Nathan”, the only one who knows how to make a good cup of tea.)

Tea

Tea is a pretty common drink in the Orr Empire, but first, we have to talk about what tea it even is. Now, if you want to be precise and a snob, tea, as per merriam-websters first definition, is “a widely cultivated shrub (Camellia sinensis of the family Theaceae, the tea family) native to China, northern India, and southeastern Asia and having glossy green leaves and fragrant white flowers” and “the leaves, leaf buds, and internodes of the tea plant prepared for use in beverages usually by immediate curing by heat or by such curing following a period of fermentation”. Thus, tea, as a drink, is “an aromatic beverage prepared from tea leaves by soaking them in boiling water”. According to this first definition, tea refers only to the tea plant.

In the Orr Empire, we do know that the tea plant actually exists. In chapter 39, Kishiar makes tea for Yuder specifically using tea leaves and in chapter 51, it is mentioned that Keilusa drinks a “black tea giving off a unique aroma”.

In the Orr Empire, the beverage tea is also made by using “any of various plants“ like tea, which means preparing them “by soaking their parts (such as leaves or roots)“.

So what teas do they drink in the Orr Empire?

Fresh chamomile, which is in season at the start of the novel (Chapter 16)

Black tea (Chapter 51)

Tea made from the leaves of a medicinal herb Rosa Faria la Orr cultivates (Chapter 58)

Tea made from a flower with an “extraordinarily fresh and cool scent” by pouring boiling water over it. The flower grows near Pearl Tower and helps with sleep deprivation, headaches and can be analgesic (Chapter 113, 143).

Tea blends (Chapter 143, 162)

Peppermint tea with honey (Chapter 162)

Tea made of the fluaville flower, which thrives on a barren mountain, devoid of sunlight, rain, and fertile soil (Chapter 167)

Cold tea made of ponegri, which is won by diluting the potent narcotic components of the ponesa plant to edible levels. It reduces pain and has mood-enhancing effects, as well as dulling the surroundings. (Chapter 205)

Bitter herbal teas for medicinal reasons (Chapter 403)

A pale red tea that might be black tea or a rooibos of some kind (Chapter 602)

A Southern tea with mingled sweet fruit and floral scents, rich in aroma and a yellow color. It is probably a green tea blend. (Chapter 919)

If you look at this – dare I say complete – list, you can roughly distinguish between teas drunk for pleasure, which seems to include teas made from the tea plant always, as well as some herbal, predominantly floral teas, and medicinal teas.

The rather high mention of medicinal teas is very much Keilusa la Orr’s fault, who drinks tea predominantly to help with his health condition. It’s also the only time something like honey is added to the tea. Adding milk, for example, isn’t mentioned at all! We also know that there exist teas of varying qualities and that nobles tend to drink higher-quality tea (Chapter 39).

Funnily enough, tea is generally regarded as a warm beverage, you want to drink it hot (Chapter 468). The only exception so far appears to be Katchian’s ponegri tea, which he drinks cold (Chapter 205).

How do you drink tea in the Orr Empire?

Well, first of all, they use teacups and pots! While this might seem like a small detail to you, a proper teacup is shaped to enhance the flavor and fragrance of the tea. Teacups tend to be lighter than coffee mugs and have a broader surface. While they are never particularly described in the novel, besides the note that they are made of porcelain (Chapter 15) the specification that they are for tea is enough to let us conclude that you don’t just drink tea, but that there is a culture associated with it.

Tea Culture in the Orr Empire

Drinking tea, when not for medicinal purposes, is a pleasure drink and appears to be mainly a social convention in the Orr Empire, which also makes it a good gift (Chapter 223). An invitation for tea is an invitation to socialize and get to know another person. Kishiar’s tea sets are made from “beautiful porcelain” (Chapter 15) and there is an art to gracefully preparing tea (Chapter 39, 223, 979). Having tea is not just a nice get-together, even when Duke Diarca enjoys a cup of tea with his close friends (Chapter 385), the preparation method matters. Similarly, even if Kishiar has Nathan fetch cookies, cakes and other sweets because of Yuder’s sweet tooth, it seems to be common to have snacks while having tea. Having popular and famous sweets that complement your tea while you drink it is simply good manners (352).

But the Orr Empire wouldn’t be the Orr Empire if there wasn’t also a class divide about it. Kishiar notes early on that Yuder “won’t have many opportunities to drink tea [he’s] personally prepared” (Chapter 39). Disregarding that this is a fucking lie on Kishiar’s part, the point he, most likely, is trying to refer to here, is that Kishiar, who both as a Duke and thus part of the nobility as well as Yuder’s superior, would not typically make tea for his subordinate.

This holds true for most of the little tea sessions we see in the novel! Nathan prepares Kishiar’s tea (Chapter 16, 58, and most other times Kishiar has tea), the servants of House Apeto prepare the tea for the Cavalry (Chapter 133), Katchian’s servants prepare him his tea (Chapter 205), Yuliver makes Keilusa’s tea (Chapter 303). While all of this is of course also expected of servants, it is also a show of trust as Kishiar points out himself, after all, it would be very easy to poison your employer’s tea (Chapter 16).

We also see that offering tea to your guests is polite, that is if you don’t make them wait for ages as the Apeto do with the Cavalry (Chapter 233). Kiolle also assumes that he’s grown closer to Katchian because they regularly drink tea together (Chapter 586).

So, much like in our world, drinking tea in the Orr Empire is not just necessarily having a cup of tea, but has a rich history.

How do I make a perfect cup of tea aka Kishiyu Cringefail Tea

Kishiar looks graceful preparing tea, but he does not, as far as I can tell, actually make a good cup of tea. Well, so how does one make a good cup of tea?

“Please, take a seat.” After roughly sprinkling the tea leaves that Kanna had once forced onto the two tea cups, a small movement of his finger formed two droplets of water in the air. The droplets divided into two streams, filling each cup. With another flick of his hand, the tea heated to a suitable temperature, steaming in the cups. Looking down at the steamy tea cup, Yuder lightly pushed one toward Kishiar. “Wait until the aroma comes out before you drink.” “You are remarkably efficient in brewing tea. Nathan would be disappointed if he saw this.” “If you have the skill, why not use it?” (Chapter 223)

Well, not like this obviously. Hilariously enough, Kishiar makes tea just the same – scooping leaves into the pot and boiling it after. So according to Nathan’s expert opinion, this is not how you’re supposed to prepare them.

The only prominent life tea culture I could find, by the way, where you boil the tea leaves with the water is the Egyptian Saiidi tea, but that one is sweetened with sugar, and neither Kishiar nor Yuder do that, so I stand by my argument that they both just prepare terrible tea.

Tea Culture (Wikipedia)

Tea Preparation Guide (Teapedia)

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Thank you for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @your-catfish-friend @inkweedandlizards @heartstringsduet @thisbuildinghasfeelings @sznofthesticks & @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad I am about to go make myself a coffee and enjoy it while reading all your sneaks 🥰

“How are things with Carlos?” Marjan asks after the waiter’s dropped off her tea and TK’s coffee. She wraps her hands around the warmed glass tea mug, but will wait patiently for the mint tea to steep. TK, however, immediately pours himself what he knows will be his first of at least three cups of coffee. It’s strong, probably the strongest coffee he’s ever had. But it’s also the best coffee he’s had in Austin, maybe even ever. The bold flavor enhanced with cinnamon and cardamom is a wake up and a sweet comfort. It’s nothing like his dad’s froo-fooey half-caf extra foam cappuccinos at the station. It’s tradition and it’s community and it’s friendship. It takes time and dedication to brew, and it’s fostered in centuries of culture and tradition. He takes a sip and smiles at his friend, waiting for the question he knows is coming.

“You guys make it official yet?”

“Ugh.”

A dangerous smile crosses Marjan’s face as she reaches for a dolma. “Is he your boo-thang?”

“Dude, I don’t think anybody’s said ‘boo-thang’ since, like, 1998.”

She doesn’t reply, waiting for him to answer the question while she munches on her dolma with the same patience she uses for her tea.

“Fine. Yes.” He can’t fight the smile that’s making its way across his own face. He can’t help it, it’s been happening every time he thinks about Carlos for the last week. Which, if he’s being honest with himself, is constantly. So instead of fighting it he hides it behind his coffee mug.

Marjan sends him a knowing smile anyway. “That’s good. He’s good for you.”

Tagging @redshirt2 @fallout-mars @freneticfloetry @orchidscript @ladytessa74 @chicgeekgirl89 @alrightbuckaroo @kiwichaeng @carlos-in-glasses @my-little-tilly @tinyluminaryzombie @bonheur-cafe @basilsunrise @birdclowns @louis-ii-reyes-strand @herefortarlos @carlos-tk @apothecarose @rmd-writes @thebumblecee @theghostofashton @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @iboatedhere @never-blooms @ambiguouspenny @paperstorm @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles and OPEN TAG 🏷️

[foodandfolklore]

Cinnamon Syrup; Recipe and Uses

Cinnamon is a great spice to bake with when doing Kitchen Magic. It's a powerful and versatile ingredient. However, I personally don't like adding cinnamon directly to my drinks, as the texture can be gritty and off putting. But I love the flavour. So I decided to try making a simple syrup and infusing the cinnamon in that.

A simple syrup is just equal parts sugar and water, heated so all the sugar dissolves. You can use any sugar (Or sugar alternative if you want to make a Zero Sugar Syrup) but most of the time, white sugar is used.

On a stovetop, over medium heat, combine 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water. Stir until Sugar Dissolves. Add Cinnamon Sticks. You want to break them up a bit, butt still keep it chunky so it's easy to strain. 4 to 6 sticks should do.

I also added a coffee bean to energize/activate my Cinnamon's Properties since these were older sticks. But that's optional.

Bring syrup to a simmer, and let it continue to simmer for 5 to 10 minutes with the lid off. Take care not to boil the syrup as that can change the sugar's structure. Once done simmering, remove from heat and place a lid on the pot. Let it sit and cool down over the course of a few hours. This allows the cinnamon to infuse further.

Now strain the syrup using a Siv or cheese cloth. To the syrup, mix in half tsp of vanilla if you want. Jar it up and store in the fridge.

Uses

Cinnamon attracts and enhances just about anything positive in life. Love, Prosperity, Power, Success, Money, Happiness, ect. Cinnamon was also used in purifying rituals of past cultures. For this reason, many Witches will add some Cinnamon to their morning beverage.

You can add this syrup to coffee and tea, treating it like a sweetener. So if you take a spoonful of sugar in your coffee, you'll use a spoonful of syrup.

You could also try making your own coffee creamer with this simple syrup and a can of evaporated milk. If you like your Creamer super sweet, use sweet and condensed milk.

Mix some of this syrup in with sparkling water for a different flavor pop.

Add a spoonful to plain yogurt with some berries either as it's own thing or to enhance the properties of the fruit.

Let me know how else you use cinnamon syrup!