sugar rimmed

when you wake up every burning morning with your head laying splattered on the linoleum tiles beneath you & the soulless remains of your eyes mock your reflection in the mirror & you think you’ve tried everything, pills, syringes, exposure therapy, fried egg sandwiches, drowning yourself in barrels of stinging arsenic, making out with the gilt-lipped boy who nicknames you the grim reaper - & of course nothing has worked so far, so you brush your teeth, you avoid brushing your hair, you paint your lips whatever color hides the cold rot of your teeth & you go about your day, which feels like simulating a stab wound, a skien of moonlight skittering between your toes, overripe cider bursting in the gut. 

lies: every inch of you. it’s true, you think. some people have nicotine circulating through their veins, you are every brick a delusion. you think about malicious summers, the corpses of fireflies dropping from the smog-licked air, your mother’s voice like sugar rimming a fancy glass, your face in the toilet bowl, your knuckles whitening against the sides like icing, your lips sour from all the invective bullshit that falls out of them, you punch the mirror, you stub your toe, you repaint your nails, you sing yourself to sleep, you are an angel of industrial strength, you are an abandoned temple, you are the algae that smothers the sea rocks, you stick out in nobody’s memory, you don’t even know what you’re doing to yourself anymore. so you slap your skin. it’s wrong, it’s wrong, hello? something’s definitely fucking wrong here! your skin doesn’t slap you back. your own body has tried to run away from you on multiple occasions. you are a mosaic of despair, sad, fossilized little moth, destined to grip for all the light it can never devour, destined for ragings of darkness. 

(so maybe sometimes recovery’s a needle through your gums).

so this is the part where your lips turn into twin cigarettes & the world asks for your forgiveness & then your best friend reminds you that the world doesn’t owe you shit & you complain about it for 2.5 hours before getting bored & giving up & going back to praying to god in an empty room from beneath a ramshackle skylight, where the still bodies stutter & the ocean’s ceramic gleams & the sky laughs at you & you close your eyes & cross your hands over your chest & wait for your life to change from the safety of this four-walled concentration camp.

do you wish you were dead? asks the moon.
i just wish i’d never been born at all.


Strawberry Liqueur
Irish Cream
Whipped Cream
Strawberry Syrup
Red Sugar
White Sugar

1. Rim shot glass with strawberry syrup and white sugar.
2. Half fill shot glass with strawberry liqueur.
3. Use a spoon to layer irish cream on top of strawberry liqueur.
4. Top with whipped cream and red sugar.

#cocktails #drinks #shots #baileys #drink #cocktail #whippedcream #donut

Made with Instagram

Requested by anonymous

“A lemon drop,” the bartender said, putting the sugar-rimmed glass in front of you.

“I didn’t order this,” you commented, a little confused.

“No, that gentleman over there did,” the bartender replied, pointing at a brown-haired man a few seats down. The man gave you a little wave, before turning his attention back to his drink to take a sip.

Smiling, you got up and walked over to the man. “Thanks for the drink,” you said, sitting in the seat right next to him.

“Your welcome, Cherie,” he said with a wink, turning to face you.

It was then you noticed his unusual eyes. You were surprised for a moment, before coming back to your senses. “You know, this won’t guarantee I’ll come home with you,” you told him with a flirty smirk.

“I expect not, especially not before you know my name. I’m Remy LeBeau,” he introduced himself.

“Y/N,” you told him in return.

“Fancy meeting you here, X-Man,” a voice on your other side said, surprising you. You hadn’t even noticed anyone sit down there.

“Pietro,” Remy greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you are, apparently,” Pietro said. “Here to flirt with pretty young ladies.” He turned his attention to you. “What do you think about ditching Pepe lePew there and I’ll get you a real drink?”

“I happen to like lemon drops,” you commented, taking a sip to prove your point.

“Sure, but they always put them in such tiny glasses. That’ll be gone before you know it.”

“There’s plenty of other beautiful women in this place, do you have to flirt with the same one I like?” Remy asked.

“Of course. You always pick the best,” Pietro stated.

“Not that I don’t love having two guys fight over me, but I am still here,” you cut in.

“Of course, Cherie,” Remy said. “Would you like another drink?”

“Oh, you don’t have to buy me another drink,” you told him.

“Because I’ll get it,” Pietro said, waving over the bartender. “Whatever she asks for next, put it on my tab no matter what these two say.”

“I’ll have another lemon drop,” you ordered, smirking at Pietro as he playfully glared at you. “What? You said whatever I ask for.”

Remember When I Was Your Age (Proud of You) (Explicit)

Requested by: Anonymous

AO3 Link

Pairing: Jikook

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Top Jungkook, Bottom Jimin, Jungkook is older than Jimin, Daddy kink, Sugar daddy au, Rimming, Face sitting, Anal fingering, Comin untouched, Public handjob, Smut, Fluff, 

Words: 2,112

Jimin left his final class of the day with a brief sigh of relief. That of which turned into a bright smile upon checking his phone.  

#1 Sugar Daddy

I’m waiting for you outside

Jimin chuckled and shook his head. He was about to get some well earned cash.

Jimin would admit that he’s a sugar baby to anyone that met him. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of. He liked being fawned over, fucked, and paid. It was nice and very rewarding. All his employers were well off and pretty sexy; which was a plus.

Namjoon always wanted to do kinky shit, which Jimin wasn’t opposed to, it was just very tiring and sometimes he couldn’t walk straight for days after.

Hoseok was nicer and most of the time would rather Jimin fuck him anyway. Jimin liked spending time with him whenever Hoseok got in a fight with his boyfriend Yoongi. Sometimes Yoongi would even join them. They were a strange couple.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi were nice, but Jimin had a favorite.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Does Staff have a specialty drink as a barman?


  • 1 pound fresh sweet cherries, pitted and halved. Save some pits for the infusion.
  • 1 pint bottle cyrodiilic brandy
  • 1 pound fresh sweet cherries, pitted
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup water
  • ½ oz fresh spidal flower juice
  • Sugar for the rim
  • Fresh lime slices and maraschino cherries for garnish

Original recipe :

There were few things in life that Mathas rarely indulged himself on. Some of those things included chocolate, alcohol, and partying. Of course, there were other things he freely allowed himself to be showered with and succumb to his own desires though they tended to be a lot more expensive and much more sexual in nature. Even in the middle of a party, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of alcohol however. Instead, he nursed a virgin Shirley Temple with a cherry still on the ice and sugar coating the rim. He pulled it out, chuckling a bit as he bumped his hip lightly against Hadriel’s. “You’re far too stiff right now.” He dangled the cherry above his mouth, dropping it in–stem and all. “You need to learn how to properly enjoy yourself.” He nodded with the fruit in his mouth, two fingers placed over his own lips as he chewed and messed around. “Learn a few—” He stuck the fingers into his mouth and pulled out a perfect knot left from the stem, “Party tricks, perhaps? Though I believe some would call that more of a bedroom trick.” He smirked at his own words, locking arms with Hadriel and leaning in against him as a bumping song picked up. He bounced with the beat, getting hyped up with the tempo. “Do you need anything, my dear? A drink? A dance?”