#Bain Marie Counter

[chefstylekitchen]

Table Top Bain Marie Counter Manufacturers in Trichy, Madurai are one of the most important pieces of kitchen equipment that are used in all commercial kitchens.

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here / masterlist

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day. 

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees. 

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it. 

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block- 

The shop phone rings. 

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands. 

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait. 

There’s no response. 

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out. 

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen. 

The line clicks dead in the next second. 

Odd. 

The shop girl is chewing gum. 

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far. 

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone. 

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer. 

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist. 

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.  

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. 

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring. 

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash? 

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“ 

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine. 

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you. 

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here. 

“Well. Thanks.” 

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash. 

It is what it is. 

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting. 

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning. 

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week. 

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence. 

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.   

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin. 

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. 

“Lock the door, little doe.” 

[fox-bright]

Rage Cheesecake with Oreo Crust, Whipped Chocolate Ganache Frosting, and Home-Grown Tart Cherry Topping

I took recipe-bits from all over and changed them into something that sounded more like what I wanted, so here's what I did today instead of committing a felony!

RECIPE BEHIND CUT

Oreo crust part:

* 25 Oreos

* 5 tablespoons of melted butter

* Pan--pie pan or springform, depending on how deep a cheesecake you want. This makes a nice, not-too-deep cheesecake in a nine-inch springform; it would be Too Much Filling in a pie pan, which would mean you have extra, and that's always fun too. An eight-inch springform is probably perfect.

1. Preheat oven to 350.

2. You may eat TWO OREOS. Crush the remainder. I have the best time with this when I use a food processor, but if you are *particularly* spirited today, this is a good place to take out some aggression. Just pulverize the things, filling and all, until they are all reduced to the consistency of sand.

3. Add melted butter and mix until it's like *wet* sand.

4. Put buttery chocolate sand into your chosen cooking dish. I use a little jar and push push push pat pat pat until it's all nice and level from the center of the dish to the edge and has no holes.

5. Bake for eight to twelve minutes. You want it to still look a little moist. Do not overcook!

6. Remove from oven and let cool. Don't move the pan around too much before it's cool or you risk fracturing the crust.

Cheesecake part:

* Two packages of cream cheese, room temperature unless you like cream cheese chunks in your cheesecake. No judgment, some people are into that.

* 2/3C white sugar

* 3 eggs

* 3 cups of sour cream (this is a very moist cheesecake!)

* Vanilla to taste

1. Preheat oven to 325F, that's 25 degrees LOWER than for the crust.

2. Cream sugar and cream cheese until smooth.

3. Add eggs, one at a time, mix until just blended.

4. Add all sour cream and vanilla, mix until just homogenous. Don't overmix or you get weird dry pillowy stuff instead of nice dense cheesecake.

5. Cook in prepared crust for approximately 50 minutes, until it's set at the edges but a little jiggly yet in the middle.

Note: Properly you'd do this in a bain marie, but I don't have one, so I wrap the bottom of my springform pan in aluminum foil and set the whole kit and kaboodle into a sturdy cookie sheet, put all that into the preheated oven, and pour water into the cookie sheet once it's safely on the oven rack. If the cheesecake starts to overcook on the top before the center is set, cover it with aluminum foil.

6. Remove from oven; let rest in bain marie/rigged pan for ten minutes before removing springform pan to clean towel. Let rest *there* until it's cool enough to put in the fridge. Cover and chill for two to four hours.

Cherry topping part:

* Sour cherries that have been frozen since last year, or a bag of cherries, or fresh cherries, whichever, approximately 4.5 cups which is too many for just this cheesecake but it's nice to have around anyway

* Granulated sugar to taste

* Corn starch

Or just pick up a can or two of cherry pie filling, in which case you can skip this whole step.

1. Defrost cherries. If you don't do this in a pot, there's a good chance that they will leak precious juice all over your clean counter. Don't be me; thaw that stuff in the pot you'll heat it in.

2. Once they're not a singular ice block but instead a bunch of big ice chunks, turn the temperature on low, maybe around a 2.

3. Once the cherries are separate from each other, add sugar to taste. This changes a lot depending on your cherries' tartness; I eventually used nearly two cups of sugar for around 4.5 cups of cherries. Usually I'd use a good bit less, but they're very tart this time.

4. Cook and cook and cook until the liquid is reduced by about a third.

5. Add corn starch. For those measurements I added about a tablespoon and a half. Remember to make it a slurry before pouring it into the pot; you can either do this with a little water, or you can spoon out some of the cherry syrup (don't burn yourself!), mix that into a little bowl along with the corn starch, and then pour it all into the pot. Bring back to a good bubble for four or five minutes, then remove from heat and allow to come to room temperature.

Whipped chocolate ganache part:

* 1 part heavy cream to 1 part chocolate (I just use Toll House. Everyone says not to do that. It's been fine).

1. Put the chocolate in a heatproof bowl.

2. Warm the cream on the stove until it's juuuust about to start bubbling. Stir frequently so it doesn't get a skin.

3. Remove from heat, pour into heatproof bowl over the chocolate.

4. WALK AWAY. I'm serious. Don't touch it. Don't poke at it. Do not, do NOT, attempt to stir it. Walk away.

5. After five minutes, come back and stir, stir, until it's all one thing. It should be like a very good, very thick chocolate syrup. You *can* just eat this, with a spoon. You can pour it over a cake, or dip strawberries in it. Chilled right as it is, it is a dessert on its own.

6. Let it cool to room temperature.

7. Come back and use your hand mixer or stand mixer to whip it up. This should get to a pipeable consistency; if it doesn't, you may need to incorporate powdered sugar. If you add butter and powdered sugar, you'll get a very stable buttercream.

Finishing part:

1. Remove springform edge from nice cold cheesecake.

2. Pipe or dollop whipped ganache in ring atop the cheesecake.

3. Fill the ring with cooled cherry filling.

4. Garnish further if you'd like. I used decorative Sixlets and some more crushed Oreo.

5. Finished!

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHERISH (PART 2) — CHOCOLATIER!JAKE 🍫

summary: he brings the cream, you bring the pie. together you’re making... cupcakes?

warnings: curse words, food, baking & eating, smut (food play, finger sucking, aphrodisiac, fingering, handjob, pussy spanking, masturbation, penetration, creampie, hyperspermia & cum play). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3385

gifs credits: me (@/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i hope you’re ready, because it’s time for you to become a cream filled chocolate truffle! since this THE PART 2 OF THIS FIC, that means it’s still the season of pink, hearts and pink hearts so happy valentine’s day again! 💗 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

When Jake saw you grab the container of store bought frosting, his heart came close to stop beating. He snatched it out of your hand faster than the speed of your spoon diving into the sugary product.

You rolled your eyes at him, and at his genuinely shocked face before you started laughing with him — well no, it was directly at him. Right in his face too, because he remained stoic, holding the jar far out of your reach. “It’s just frosting.”

“It’s not just frosting! It’s the most important part of the cupcakes! It needs to be delicious and that?” His eyes widened while he waved the frosting in the air. “That’s unacceptable.” He put the container back where you found it, with the lid and all. “You can eat it behind my back, like when I’m in the shower —” but we shower together, you interrupted. You counter offered his other suggestions until he gave up and agreed to let you ruin another baked good, but not his cupcakes.

You found it funny how he turned into a busy, overwhelmed mom who was just reminded the night before by her forgetful children that they signed her up for some charity event at the school that would go down in flames without her box-mix cupcakes. He reacted dramatically to a lot of the things, you noticed. After several other dates since your first one at his chocolaterie, you discovered he was... Special. He liked things to be in order, clean and organized especially in the kitchen, while the rest of his life prevailed in a complete chaos. He was so different in and outside of the kitchen, you wondered if he allowed himself to have a bit of fun or if he was too scared that his Kitchen Aid stand mixer would judge him for eternity.

Jake resumed to measuring the rest of the ingredients, following the recipe he knew by heart for having baked it over and over again. He tweaked it to make it his own, he could not help it, but he recited the measurements out loud like a sing-song he learned. Your job as a sous-chef was reduced to putting paper liners in the muffin tin and sucking his finger clean whenever he would present you with a bit of the sweet preparation to taste. Premade frosting was out of the question, but raw eggs seemed to go by just fine.

At some point, you figured he just liked to have you suck on his fingers. Maybe it was the moans he let out when he felt your tongue swirl around his digits, or the fact he would tease your mouth with clean fingers even after the cupcakes were put in the oven. And you loved it too, how the deeper his fingers pushed in your mouth, the more you felt your mind going blank.

The alarm of the timer rang, snapping you back to reality at the poke of a toothpick coming out clean from the chocolate cupcakes. Jake did not stop cooking, and talking to himself about how he hoped Ina Garten would forgive him for his sins — which was to use his own chocolate wafers instead of the semisweet chocolate chips the well-known and even more well-loved chef recommended.

You watched him with an amused smile, while he was measuring the rest of the wafers while waiting for the bain-marie to get ready. He tried to be subtle, you knew it, but you caught him snacking on a couple of pieces of chocolate. So much so that he had just about enough for the last steps of the recipe and the replacement for your forbidden frosting.

Once the water started to simmer, he placed a glass bowl on the pot and poured the chocolate disks in it. He stirred the chocolate as it melted before yours and his eyes, smooth and satiny. He dipped his finger in the hot concoction — his fingers had been long desensitized to burning with all the years of baking he had underneath the cute apron he wore around his waist. It was your Valentine’s day gift to him, belated, but still a thought act.

“You know...” You spoke, Jake’s eyes left the glass bowl to meet with yours. “When I suggested we could bake cupcakes, I didn’t mean we should turn into a fancy bakery. We’ve been at it for a long time.”

He shook his head, in a strangely calm manner. “There’s nothing ironic about baking. I take it very seriously.” He sucked on his own chocolate dipped finger, releasing it with a pop, to further prove his point. “I’m almost done anyway. You’ve helped me plenty, time flew by!” When you rolled your eyes at his comment about your nonexistent help, he insisted. “You’re standing there and looking beautiful with flour hand prints on your butt. That’s more helpful than anything else.”

You earned a kiss that you tried to deepen and make last longer, but Jake pulled away to complete the chocolate ganache. The heavy cream and chocolate mixed together beautifully and you wrapped your arms around his torso while he expertly dipped the now cooled down cupcakes into the chocolate. You tried to sneak a peek of his work, but he was moving so much in your embrace that it made it hard to focus.

He ended your confusion by offering by sharing the rest of the ganache, using a spatula to scoop it from the bowl until the two of you acted giddy, giggling as he licked and kissed drops of sweet goodness that fell on your chin.

It took a little while — a few minutes, really — to notice the familiar sensations that were spreading through your body, starting at your tongue and sending electric waves all the way down between your thighs. Oh.

Oh, yeah, fucking finally, Jake murmured to himself. He smiled just as big and proud as the first time you tried his special chocolate at his boutique during your very first date. He pulled you closer to him, wanting to admire all the small changes that were starting to happen to you. He held your face delicately in his big hands, his eyes diving into yours while your pupils were growing larger and while your mouth dropped ajar. He mirrored everything — how his tongue could not stay still in his mouth like it was begging to touch yours, how your head wanted to loll to the side. “Let it go, sweetheart, let it go.”

The way he cooed at you helped your head get emptier and emptier until... Until you could not think of anything else except him. Except how badly you wanted him and needed to feel him. You wanted to scream at how much it hurt not to have his hands on your breasts or his mouth on your clit. You wanted to beg and beg until he would relieve some of that delicious pain.

His hands slid from your cheeks down to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck while he pulled you in for a kiss that was all tongues and teeth. The longer the kiss lasted, the more he felt like the world around you was vanishing into a thick fog.

It was the same way you felt, using whatever control on your body you had left to make your way to the bedroom. You let him grope your breasts over your clothes, rubbing his thumbs over the small bumps your hard nipples created until he heard you moan into his mouth.

Jake pulled away, only to lick some of the drool that fell down the corner of your mouth and kissed you hard again, making it as messy as he could while his hands kept exploring your body. He pulled moan after moan after you with touches as simple as the warmth of his palms pressing against the goosebumps on your skin.

In a blink of an eye, all of your clothes were piling up on the floor with nothing but your body heat and the burning desire to indulge in each other’s bodies. Unlike the first time you tasted the chocolate, you did not stand alone in this euphoric experience.

Jake looked just about as far gone as you were, with glossy eyes and quick breathing that resembled a needy panting. He was hard, his cock throbbing as you exchanged another series of feverish kisses. When you took him in your hand, he had to lean on you so his knees would not give in. Not that he ignored the effects of the aphrodisiac, but, even after he tested it on you, he realized just how powerful a few bites of that magic substance could be. It made precum leak out of his sensitive, pink tip. It made his abs clench at the strong sensation of your hand stroking him. It made him throw his head back when you cupped his balls into your left hand, using the other one to keep jerking him off.

You could tell he was holding back, with his clenched jaw and the tight grip he had on your soft hips, his short nails digging into your flesh. He wanted to fuck your hand hard and fast and catch his own release.

He did not give in, however. It would all be a waste if he did not get to feel you while being in this physical state, while having his mind and senses played with by a few bites of chocolate. Another kiss, another couple of strokes of his big cock and you were pushed on the bed. Jake barely let you find a comfortable spot to lay on that he was kneeling on the bed too and forcing your legs open to reveal what he wanted the most.

Your inner thighs were covered in your wetness, your folds were slightly puffy from the arousal alone and from this deep, uncontrollable need for Jake to touch you and bring back those fireworks you first experienced under the influence of the aphrodisiac.

“So fucking beautiful.” Jake mumbled, or moaned — both at the same time, actually. The aphrodisiac had him slurring his words and fighting to say a sentence with minimal coherence. He wrapped each arm around one of your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, making you gasp with surprise when you felt your skin slap against his.

You covered your face with your hands as he finally touched you. His flat hand rubbed over your pussy from side to side, fast and harsh. The more he touched you, and the more his fingers rubbed over your clit when your folds moved out of the way, the wetter you were getting. It was so much more intense than your first time, and it kept on getting better.

Jake slapped your puffy folds, although the blows were soft, they were stinging your sensitive skin. He messed with your brain that had trouble differentiating between the pain of the spanks and the bliss of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. He was mesmerized, jaw dropped and eyes wide as he spanked you a few more times and watched you flinch under him. Each spank was followed by a squeal and giggles, mixed with a moan that sounded like music to his ear. He wanted to hear more — he needed more.

You inhaled loudly, only for the oxygen to get stuck in your throat when you felt Jake’s cock pressing at your entrance and sliding inside your tight hole, eased by your wetness and the precum that covered the tip of his cock. You removed your hands from your face and placed them on your tits, trying to hold them in place while he started to fuck you. You only had a few slow and deep strokes to adjust to the delicious feeling of his cock inside your walls before he picked up the pace.

He gripped on your thighs again that he kept pressed against his body so that he could rock his hips back and forth. Curse words you had never heard from him were submerged by the sound of his deep grunts while he kept thrusting inside of you. Somehow, despite the mix of your juices, he could feel your walls tightening and clenching around his length every time he pushed his cock inside of you after pulling back. He was only chasing the maximum pleasure he could pull out of you — and give back to you.

Pretty moans turned into audible gasps and abrupt screaming when his cock hit the spongy spot inside of you. It seemed as though he calculated the number of times he hit your spot, trying to make you feel as good as possible while also stretching out the time he could enjoy your pussy. One look at him confirmed there was not a thought behind those lust-filled eyes, he was driven by his desire to bury his cock as deep inside of you as you would let him.

He clenched his jaw one moment only to press his lips together the next and hold himself back on moaning more so he could get lost in the obscene sounds your bodies created together. The slapping, the sticky wetness, the rushed and heavy breathing. When he could not hold in his own noises, he groaned and slowed down his thrusting.

He was fucking you hard and deep, so deep that you kept being pushed further away on the bed, dragging the bed sheets with you. “Please,” you spoke for what felt like the first time in forever. “Please, don’t stop!”

He did stop. He stopped to look down at where your bodies no longer met as the distance pulled you away from him, his cock bopping up and down, begging to be reunited with your pussy. Jake took a moment to catch his breath and admire the beautiful scene before his eyes. The veins of his arms, and cock, were bulging out from the sheer force with with he was fucking you. There was a layer of sweat covering both his body and yours, and visible wet spots on the bed sheets that created a trail from the edge of the bed to the middle where you now laid.

Impatient, your body burning into flames, you sat to reach up and pull Jake down with you. He was quick enough to climb on the bed, the tip of his cock brushing against the same wet spots you left behind on the fabric, and you held his cock in your hand briefly to guide it back where it belonged.

He pushed himself all the way back inside you, now kneeling between your thighs that he kept open for him — and for you. Withing even having to tell you, Jake loved to watch you rub the sensitive bundle of nerves that resided between your just as sensitive, soaking wet folds. He pulled away, just a little, and slammed himself back inside of you as he fucked you in this other position.

The aphrodisiac was nowhere near close to run out, you could tell. It still felt just as intense as it did while the effects began to work their magic over you. Your bodies, however, were running out of energy to last. You could tell that too by the fact you were getting closer and closer to your orgasm now that you rubbed your clit in a just as messy rhythm as the one Jake fucked you with.

He was getting so close too, his grunts became more succinct and his face tensed up with the powerful pleasure that ran through his veins. There was no need to speak, words were completely unnecessary as Jake and you let the aphrodisiac take complete control over you.

Your orgasm hit you by surprise, or well, sort of. As soon as you felt that familiar knot in your lower stomach, you knew you were about to explode in an orgasm that pushed the air out of your lungs and made you see stars even when you closed your eyes. It felt even stronger with your eyes closed than it did when you kept them open. It felt as though you could notice each vein on Jake’s cock, the swollen tip of his cock diving in and out of your slick walls. And then you felt it. All of it.

Jake fell down to his elbows, his face conveniently buried in the crook of your neck as he came inside of you, his pelvis flushed with you from how deep he was. Ropes and ropes of cum shot out of his cock while his hips jerked a few times uncontrollably, until he felt like something was pushing him out.

It was not you, not intentionally at least. You would have loved nothing more than to calm down from your high with the feeling of Jake’s cock softening inside of you. Although you could feel something still filling you up even if his cock was sliding out of you.

“Oh my,” Jake spoke when he finally pulled out of your pussy. “Oh my God.” It was still hitting him, he was still cumming with more of his seed just dripping out of his slit. There was even more trickling out of your hole. You looked as confused as Jake. This did not happen with him before... This had never happened to him before. His brows were raised in stupefaction one second and furrowed in confusion the next, he held his cock at the base in one hand while two fingers of his free hand dipped into your cum filled entrance.

It felt so good when he pushed his fingers barely past your entrance, as he felt even more cum inside of you. Quickly, he replaced his fingers with his cock and made you scream of pleasure as he finished inside you with a few more thrusts and pumps. You realized he fucked his cum back inside of you, not even minding that most of it was covering his cock and oozing out of you.

He fell back on you again, slowly and carefully this time so he did not hurt you. And, finally, you cherished the feeling of his softening cock inside of you while you both tried to catch your breath. Jake was mumbling to himself how it felt incredible, how it was so weird and so hot, and how he wanted to do it again — and he wanted it so fucking bad. He tried to move, arms and legs incredibly shaky, but you held him tighter and closer against your just as tired body.

“Where are you trying to go?” You whined, making room between your legs for him to lay down more comfortably.

Jake giggled in your ear, his laughter filled with excitement. The kisses he pressed all over your cheek, jawline and neck were filled with just as much lust as they were earlier. “Trying to get up to grab a snack.”

He squirmed on top of you, but all he managed to do was fall by your side and hug you tight against him. If he wanted to get up, he was failing rather adorably. “A snack? For what?” You turned your head to look at him, you were so close your noses almost touched.

He smiled at you, the same smile he had glued on his pretty face during your date at the boutique. You swore to yourself you would cherish this image forever. “So we can do that again. And again...” He leaned in closer to capture your lips with a kiss. “And again until there’s no more of that good stuff.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, that was the strongest reaction you could express with how exhausted you felt after this mind blowing orgasm. “It’s in the cupcakes?” Yup. “All of them?” Jake nodded in approval. “I can’t take it anymore. Not right now.” You tried to resonate with him, only the way your voice cracked betrayed your own desire to try it again and again...

“You’ll take it.” Jake answered, quite firmly. “Because this magic chocolate will definitely be in all the desserts we bake from now on.”

[twwpress]

Weekly Press Briefing #97: April 28th - May 4th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from April 28 - May 4, 2024. Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

There are no open challenges or events on our radar this week. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote or know of one we’re missing? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

This Week in Canon:

Welcome back to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 1, Episode 20: Mandatory Minimums aired on May 3, 2000.

Season 2, Episode 20: The Fall’s Gonna Kill You aired on May 2, 2001.

Season 3, Episode 18: Enemies Foreign and Domestic aired on May 1, 2002.

Season 4, Episode 21: Life on Mars aired on April 30, 2003.

Season 5, Episode 20: Talking Points aired on April 28, 2004.

Season 7, Episode 20: The Last Hurrah aired on April 30, 2006.

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from April 28 - May 4:

Allison Janney posted a promo video for Dule Hill’s new PBS show, The Expressway (and Bradley Whitford did too!). 

Allison Janney posted stills and video from the season finale of Palm Royale.

Amy Landecker posted a photo of herself and Brad with Luci Baines Johnson, former president Lyndon B. Johnson’s daughter, in Texas. 

Dule Hill posted photos of himself in D.C. advocating for the arts with The Creative Coalition. 

Josh Malina posted a photo of himself with his parents’ Omer counter. 

Josh Malina posted a clip of himself from The West Wing doing an unnecessary trick with a phone receiver. 

Marlee Matlin posted a photo of herself and her husband with their new granddaughter. 

Mary McCormack posted a fun fact from behind the scenes of The West Wing. 

Peter James Smith posted a photo of himself and the cast of Nora with Allison Janney and I, Tonya screenwriter Steven Rogers. 

Peter James Smith posted photos of himself and his castmates from the set of the play he’s in, Nora. 

Richard Schiff posted stills from The Good Doctor shouting out guest star (and his daughter) Ruby Kelley. 

Rob Lowe posted a photo of himself with horses while filming on location. 

Donna Moss Daily: April 28 | April 29 | April 30 | May 1 | May 2 | May 3 | May 4

Daily Josh Lyman: April 28 | April 29 | April 30 | May 1 | May 2 | May 3 | May 4

No Context BWhit: April 28 | April 29 | April 30 | May 1 | May 2 | May 3 | May 4

@twwarchive: April 29 | May 1 | May 3 | May 4

Fics:

Presenting your weekly roundup of fics posted in the tag for The West Wing on Archive of Our Own. 

Josh/Donna

Somebody loved by Shinyrosa | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress

Fairytale Ending? by Tyrols | Not Rated | Josh Lymn/Donna Moss | In Progress

Other Pairings/Gen Fic

The Weight We Carry Is Love by piratequeenofgreenthings | Rated T | Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet | In Progress

An Intriguing Variable by silasfinch for justdreaming88 | Ellie Bartlet/Original Female Character(s) | In Progress

The Race by Goochie0014 | Rated M | No Characters/Pairings Listed | Complete

Multiple Pairings

War & Peace by miabicicletta for krazykitkat, onekisstotakewithme | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler, Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet | In Progress

THE WEEKLY PRESS BRIEFING TEAM CAN BE REACHED VIA THE FOLLOWING METHODS:

Twitter: @TWWPress

Email: weeklypressbriefing@gmail.com

Feel free to let us know if we missed something, if you have an event you’d like us to promote, or if you have an item that you’d like included in the next briefing!

xx, What’s next?

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[lukowrites]

(Neglected to write yesterday, but I forgive me). Week 8, day 2 – 20 min freewrite: continuation of potential key scene.

Martin saw the woman talking on her phone. She was beautiful. Long blonde hair, office attire, a wispy frilly blue skirt tightly hugging her bum, an equally frilly white blouse offering a nice view of her heaving bosoms, and black, cloppy, serious shoes, without a hint of ornation. He stared at her, watching her get on the train. She looked sad, and he thought he understood her.

The train rolled away down the track, and with it the thought faded from his mind, being replaced by his duties. He looked at the time, 10:51 am, almost break time. Martin meandered down the second story platform, looking straight ahead, his posture tight and refined, slightly flexing his abs under his uniform. The canteen was staffed by a young snappy dark-haired girl that he’d had more than a few awkward encounters with before. She noticed him approach and quickly made herself busy, fiddling with the coffee machine, avoiding his open-eyed anxious gaze and forced macho demeanor. Martin made it to the counter, standing only slightly expectantly, staring at the menu he’d memorised countless times before. After an uncomfortable wait, he seized the window of her eyes with his and said “hi!” a little too congenially and excitedly. The girl scrunched her face and looked away with officious disdain, “what can I get you” she said, ignoring his name tag. “Can I please get a sausage roll with sauce, and a Farmers Union iced coffee please?”, his stomach turning after the second please. The girl moved to the bain-marie and retrieved the 4 hour old sausage roll with her red rubber gripped tongs and placed it swiftly in a small white paper bag, grease staining it and turning it translucent almost instantly, and placed it on the counter in front of him. “Thanks” said Martin to the girl’s back as she faced the fridge to grab his iced coffee, taking the one front the very front, which he hated knowing it was always warmer than the others. Plopping it on the counter she punched in the numbers, the digital display showing $10:50 in neon green numerals. “Anything else?” she said, resenting the opportunity she was obliged to give him. “Card please” he responded, holding up his card awkwardly with two fingers, and with a wave of the girl’s hand to say “go right ahead” he tapped it, grabbed his food, and left with another “thanks”.

Martin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Switching his meal to one hand he pulled it out and read the short-form message on the display. “Martin, please report to the office immediately, there’s been a mix up wi…”. “Fucking bullshit” he mumbled, angrily retracting the sausage roll from its bag, forgetting not to touch the grease-soaked carb-mess with his fingers, scarfing it in record time, and about 5 bites, as he rushed to the office across the platform. Ripping open the cardboard iced coffee carton recklessly Martin splashed the brown milky sugar-drink onto his shirt. Glancing down quickly and not noticing this fact, eager to wash down the sloppy meat-like parcel before he lost his chance, he glugged down half the contents and wiped his moustache with the back of his hairy hand as he rounded the corner to the office.

[bananango]

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UNSOLVED WIKI JOHNNY LEE WILSON SERIAL

This list of unsolved deaths includes notable cases where victims have been murdered or have died under unsolved circumstances, including murders committed by unknown serial killers.

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