pie bites

Jack Zimmermann was accustomed to dealing with difficult situations; he was captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team after all, but this? This was never in the job description.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bitty whispered into the side of Jack’s neck, breath hot and sweet against his skin. The kegster ended a while ago but Bitty was still feeling the effects. When he fell off the coffee table attempting to dance to All the Single Ladies, Jack swept in ready to piggyback him to bed.

“Alright,” Jack said, mouthing I got this in Lardo’s direction before heading to the stairs.

“I don’t wanna be a single lady anymore,” His voice faltered and Jack became acutely aware of Bitty’s thighs around his hips. “I want a person. Everybody else has got a person.”

“With moves like that I don’t think you’ll have to wait long,” Jack said, supressing a chuckle.

“Mmhmm,” Bitty mumbled, fighting a losing war against sleep. Jack pushed open the door to Bitty’s room with his foot and ducked inside.

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MINI PUMPKIN PIES

Yield: 2 dozen

The things you’ll need

Ingredients

Dough
  • 2 ½ cup all purpose flour
  • 2 tablespoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • ½ vanilla bean
  • ½ cup butter flavored shortening, chilled
  • ½ cup salted butter, chilled
  • 6 tablespoon buttermilk
Pumpkin Filling
  • 6 oz. cream cheese at room temperature
  • 1 ¼ cup pumpkin puree
  • ½ cup light brown sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • ½ teaspoon sea salt
Whipped Cream
  • 1 cup heavy whipping cream
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
Decoration
  • Egg wash
  • Pastry brush
  • Decorating bag fitted with a #849 tip
  • Cinnamon for decoration
Equipment
  • Large mixing bowl
  • Mini tart pan
  • Plastic wrap
  • Round cookie cutter
  • Rolling pin
  • Baking sheet tray lined with parchment
  • Two medium mixing bowls
  • Hand mixer
  • Two rubber spatulas
  • Small ice cream scoop

Let’s get started!


Dough
  1. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, vanilla bean, and salt.
  2. Add cubed butter and shortening and work between fingers until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Drizzle in ice-cold buttermilk. Work in the buttermilk to form a dough.
  3. Form the dough into two discs and wrap tightly in plastic wrap and chill for 2 to 24 hours to set.
Filling
  1. Preheat oven to 350ºF.
  2. In a medium mixing bowl use a hand mixer to combine cream cheese and brown sugar until smooth. Add eggs one at a time, mixing between each addition and scrape down the sides as necessary.
  3. Add pumpkin, spices, salt and vanilla extract and beat until smooth.
  4. When dough is set, roll out to 1/8 an inch thick and cut circles out using the round cookie cutter. Line dough rounds into each tart pan.
  5. Use a fork to prick the bottom of the crust then brush egg wash on the tops of each cup. Scoop filling into each pie cavity almost to the top, almost 2 tablespoons.
  6. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Allow to fully cool before adding topping.
  7. In a medium mixing bowl, use a hand mixer to whip the heavy cream and sugar until stiff. Scoop into a decorating bag attached with a #849 tip.
  8. Sprinkle each pie with a bit of cinnamon. Ta-da! Mini pumpkin pies!
Secret

A Bucky Barnes One-Shot

Character Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 2426

Warnings: NSFW 18+. Smut, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy!) chocolate pie porn.

Request: Hello! I have a request, could you do one where the reader starts working for Tony and soon after the reader and Bucky start a secret affair? Thanks love! - Anon

A/N: Here you go my dear! Sorry that it took me so long!



‘You can do this.’

‘You have worked hard for this.’

‘You deserve this.’

The pep talk you were giving yourself as you drove up to the gate surrounding the Avengers compound wasn’t helping your nerves at all. You leaned forward to look up through your windshield at the concrete walls. This place was a fortress.

You rolled your window down when you approached a booth. You hit the green call button and jumped at the electronic voice that spoke.

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Soldier 76 x Reader Commission!

A crush. You were too old for a crush. He was too old to be the object of a crush. It was all a ridiculous notion, one that you wouldn’t act on. You refused to act on it. It was unprofessional and had the opportunity to become incredibly awkward.

Ana thought it was a great idea. You loved to sit and have tea with her. That was when you had accidentally let it slip that you were harboring a silly little crush on Jack. Her face had lit up when it fell from your lips.

She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince you to go after Jack.

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“Did you think I would go with him?”

He paused mid-bite, then lowered his fork. “I heard every word between you. I knew you could take care of yourself, and yet … ” He went back to his pie, swallowing a bite before continuing. “And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it. It would be your choice.”

I sipped from my wine. “And if he had grabbed me?”

There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. “Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.

Jack and Eric are barely out the door when Alicia turns to her husband and says, “He’s too nice.”

Bob flounders. “What? How can he be ‘too nice’? He’s trying to impress us, he’s clearly nervous.”

“They played together for two years and lived in the same house for half that time, but they only start dating after Jack signed with the Falconers. You don’t find that suspicious.”

Alicia stares down the pie on the kitchen counter.

“That’s raspberry rhubarb, Bobby. I love raspberry rhubarb because my mother used to make it. It’s not common, it’s a pain in the ass to make, it’s not as good as strawberry rhubarb, and the only interview where I ever talked about that pie was in Redbook in ‘96.”

“So, the kid did his research on his boyfriend’s mother. What’s the harm in that?”

“That’s not research, Bobby, that’s obsession.” 

“You think Eric Bittle is dating our son to get closer to you.”

“No, I’m saying Eric Bittle is so worried about impressing us that he dug up a twenty-year-old article to make my favorite pie. If he’s working this hard to make us like him, he’s worried he’s not enough on his own, and that means Jack is probably expending emotional energy he doesn’t have trying to reassure this young man that he’s worthy of their relationship.”

Alicia pokes at the perfectly browned crust with a perfectly manicured nail.

“Jack’s not built to support a significant other with self-doubts, he can barely handle his own. He needs a partner that can carry their own weight. If Eric needs to work this hard to convince us he’s stable, he’s probably not.” 

She stabs a fork into the pie and takes a bite, chewing slowly to savor the familiar flavors.

“That’s why I don’t trust him.”

stultiloquentia  asked:

Yes!!! Do you have any interest in writing a NurseyDex continuation of your Sprezzatura 'verse? If not, hit me up with some competence kink - Dex POV of Nursey, or Falcs' POV of Bitty, or Jack, or whomever strikes your fancy; I'm so easy. :D

So, uh, this one got long. Here’s a continuation of the Sprezzatura ’verse.


Derek consciously told himself to unclench his teeth and relax his jaw. He hated calculus. So much. His brain simply refused to work the way the book and the professor seemed to think it should and he just needed to get through this class and then he’d have completed his stupid math requirement and never have to worry about it again. But first he had to pass it.

He was going to have to ask for help.

He hated asking for help.

He was going to do it anyway. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, he reminded himself. He was still clenching his teeth again when he texted Dex, though.

Ice: Yo, can you help me with calc?

Fire: Be there in ~15 mins. Need help with English anyway.

Derek sat back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face, then rolled his neck from side to side a few times and shook out his arms, trying to just fucking chill already. He found one of his wordless playlists to put on and tried to at least review the examples again before Dex got there so maybe he wouldn’t seem like a complete idiot. Ugh, he hated math.

Well, no, he just hated calculus. Or rather, the way calculus made him feel. He had never found a way to make calculus appear effortless for him, and he was getting really tired of grinding his teeth.

He was glad to get up and answer the door when Dex knocked. “C’mon in, man, you can sit wherever. My roommate has a new girlfriend, so he won’t care.”

Dex frowned at the thought of sitting on someone else’s bed without permission and dumped his bag on Derek’s bed instead. Which Derek had known he would do. He bit back a grin.

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anonymous asked:

(Before zimbits becomes canon) Okay so imagine Bitty and Shitty having a talk in the kitchen about women-taking last names after marriage. Then Jack being the doof he is walks in and is casually like 'haha what about zimmerman' and bitty is internally like 'oh heck yea i take that name' and jack is internally 'why the heck did i say that'

Bitty and Shitty were sitting in the kitchen taste testing Bitty’s latest creation and talking last names.

“I get it, Bitty. I totally get it. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you have to take some person’s name. But some people like tradition and the whole becoming a family thing.”

Bitty laughed, enjoying watching Shitty pretty much have the entire conversation with himself. It was always entertaining to watch Shitty discuss whatever was on his mind from every angle.

“Fuck, Bitty, this pie is good. What about you? If you were with some guy and you guys got married, would you want to take his name? Or what if he wanted to take your name? What would you do?”

Finding his pie suddenly very interesting, Bitty pushed it around the plate, trying to find an answer. “Um….I think it would depend on who I was marrying. I kinda like my last name. What about you? Would you ask you wife to take your name?”

Shitty smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Are you serious? Me? She can have it if she wants it, Knight is an awesome last name. But I wouldn’t mind taking her’s either.”

“Knight is a pretty awesome last name. I’d take it if we got married.” Bitty teased. “Might make it a hyphenate, though.”

“Knight-Bittle? Nah, Bittle-Knight is better.”

“I like Knight-Bittle. Using, Bittle, first sounds like a teeny knight.”

Shitty laughed and was stealing another piece of pie when they heard Jack’s voice at the door. “What about Zimmermann?”

Bitty was silent as Jack looked him in the eye and Shitty pushed a chair out for him. “There’s a lot of legacy to that name. I think I could live up to it.”

Jack took a seat and Bitty handed him a slice of pie, trying not to make eye contact. He hoped if he just nodded along and let Jack and Shitty banter, Jack wouldn’t ask him what he thought. He’d had a crush on Jack for so long now, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth if Jack asked.

Jack took a bite of pie and stared down at the table, cheeks red. “What..um..what flavor is this? It’s, it’s good.”

Relieved to have a new subject, Bitty babbled about how he was trying something new and how glad he was that Jack and Shitty had liked it. Soon after that, they all moved onto a new subject and Bitty could breathe a sigh of relief.

If he was truly honest, he’d jump at the chance to take the Zimmermann name. Shitty was right, it had a legacy, but it was a good one. Even if they hyphenated it, it still sounded good and Bitty would by lying if he said he’d never imagined it.

Bitty stood to start cleaning up and Shitty disappeared muttering something about helping Lardo. Jack carried the plates over to the sink. As Bitty washed, Jack dried and nudged Bitty with an elbow. “Everything alright, Bittle?”

“Of course! Just thinking about what I need to study next. Got distracted with the pie and am probably a little behind.”

Taking the dish from Bitty’s hands, Jack pointed to the door. “Go. I’ll finish here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go, BIttle. Can’t have you getting behind.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, Bittle.”

destiel headcanon

• dean wanting cas to try some pie so he holds out his fork for cas to grab, but instead cas just leans over and bites the pie off of the fork
• dean’s eyes widen and he blushes like crazy after he realizes what just happened
• cas let’s out a sensual groan, dean’s face gets even redder, fork still suspended in midair
• he finally takes notice of the growing need for touch as he drops a napkin in his lap and looks away from cas
• “that was…very enjoyable, dean.” cas grumbles. “may I have another bite?”
• dean just swallows hard and nods, cutting off another piece and feeding cas more of the pie before he can realize what he’s doing and try to stop himself

☆*:.。. o(≧▽≦)o .。.:*☆

crossroadscastiel  asked:

Okay a v important and fluffy thing I need Slippy input on immediately: Will and Hannibal bake a pie. It's a v important pie made with exactly zero people-derived ingredients. So like... really special stuff. ANYWAY, what sort of pie do they make? Does Will surprise Hannibal with his STELLAR pie making skills? Does Hannibal end up with a smudge of flour on his nose that Will doesn't tell him about because it's just that cute?

It is an apple pie.  Just, like, a classic apple pie, lattice crust, cinnamon, it smells like magic while it’s baking.  Hannibal wanted it to be some kind of very fancy thing with the apple slices layered in a big fancy rosette like this, give or take, but Will has Opinions about apple pies.

(I suspect that one of those opinions relates to the question of whether apple pie should have cheddar cheese on it, but to be perfectly honest, I have never had apple pie with cheese, so I don’t know whether it’s good and therefore am not sure what Will’s thoughts on it would be.  My gut feeling is that Will is pro-cheese-on-apple-pie, but I’m willing to be wrong on this one.)

Will is a pretty good baker but not actually any good at pastry, so Hannibal makes the dough.  Will is good at making the pastry pretty once it’s made, so he does the fluting and the latticework.

Hannibal slices a million apples in no time at all, with unnecessarily showy knifework, because of course he does.  Also he probably insists on putting some weird not-pie-spice into the pie that Will protests vigorously. I don’t even know - turmeric or something.  But it turns out to be perfect because of course it does, Hannibal is annoyingly always right about what flavors go together.

The flour does not end up on Hannibal’s nose, it ends up on Hannibal’s ass, a great big flour handprint in the shape of Will Graham’s grabby hands. Look, can you blame him?  The Hannibooty was just so pert and adorable, peeking out under the primly tied bow of Hanners’ apron.  Keeping his hands to himself wasn’t an option.

The pie is served with large helpings of vanilla ice cream, after dinner.  It is delicious.  The dogs get some ice cream but no pie.

Around 3 a.m. Will wakes up alone and makes his way down to the kitchen, where he finds Hannibal halfway through a late-night second helping of pie, sniffly and teary and basically just sitting in his kitchen all alone stewing in an excess of EMOTIONS about this PIE that they MADE, TOGETHER, because they’re HUSBANDS NOW and it’s all he’s ever wanted for the both of them.

Will is like, Hannibal, it was also all you ever wanted for the both of us last week when I picked up your drycleaning without being asked, and the week before that when we killed that asshole from the dogfighting ring, and three weeks ago it was all you ever wanted because I let you do that thing you really like to do with your tongue for an hour straight, and I just, you have to have some chill, not everything is grand opera, people don’t live like that, sometimes things have to be just low-key nice.

And Hannibal just takes another bite of pie and keeps sniffling and finally Will is just, god, FINE, okay, I see where this is going, do you want to feed me some pie, is that what it’s going to take to get you to calm down about this?

And that is how he ends up sitting on Hannibal’s lap in the kitchen at three in the morning being hand-fed bites of pie and ice cream, and it is high-key ridiculous, but that’s just his life now, and there are worse ways to go than being loved too much, really. Plus the pie is really good.


(I hope you’re feeling better this morning, friend. Also I know you have declared bruised/rimming to be the new hot trope, and I am intrigued by this notion and wish to subscribe to your newsletter, but I couldn’t quite work bruised/rimming into fluff/pie.  I’m sorry.  I would have, if I could.)

Apple Pie 5

// “just tAKE THE JACKET” //

number 5 of my best friends drabble list and the unofficial sequel of coconut oil.

*Warning Mature Content*


“Oh my god. This is so fucking good,” I moaned as my taste buds savored the quarter pounder burger I was shoving into my mouth. I looked at the beautiful burger I just took a bite of with astonishment. It was….. so good. I moaned again as I took my second bite and then my third bite that was the biggest of them all. I felt a bit of grease run down the side of my face but I couldn’t be bothered. I had my tunnel vision set on my food. I took a huge slurp of my vanilla milkshake and ate a few cheese fries between each bite of food.

“Yo, Y/N! You like the food over there?” Fredo called from across the table. I jumped at the sound of my name, breaking me out of my food trance. I looked up to see the whole table of the tour staff staring at me. I gave a shy nod as a strand of cheese from my fries landed on my face.

Everyone immediately laughed at my eager sloppiness as I tried to pull my myself together again and act like I didn’t smoke a blunt fifteen minutes prior. I looked forward to see Justin recording the whole encounter on his phone.

“Stop!” I whined as I quickly reached across the table and tried to smacked his phone from his hand so that he would leave me alone. Unfortunately, I missed and he leaned back in his seat as he continued capturing the moment.

“You’re so annoying,” I complained while holding up my middle finger and throwing a fry at his big forehead.

“Okay but, you’re gross,” He countered, finally putting down his phone.

“Okay but, I don’t need this from you,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up with my tray of food in tow.

“Where are you going?” Elysandra looked up at me.

“Somewhere where I’m not harassed for my eating habits,” I stated before dramatically moving towards an empty table on the side of small restaurant. On the way over there, a large group of dusty niggas smiled at me and watched as I sat alone. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I moved to my destination. I had no interest in being bothered again while eating and especially not by bummie niggas.

I finished my plate of food within the next few minutes. Once I ate the last fry I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, feeling the itis taking over. Just as I felt like I was about to pass out and meet Jesus in my sleep, my eyes flew open at the smell of apple pie. I looked up just in time to see one of the waiters walk past me with a slice of deliciousness. My mouth watered at the sight.

I didn’t waste a moment before getting up to go to the front of the restaurant to order. Annoyingly enough, to get to the place to order, I had to walked past the gross dudes again (who we’re making crude gestures as I passed) and past the section the Purpose crew was sitting at. I was almost past my friends that I was fake beefing with when, my wrist was grabbed in a tight grip. My eyes moved from the hand, followed the length of an muscular arm, and found myself looking at Justin’s red face.

“What?” I asked dryly.

“Take my jacket,” He said in a serious tone.

“What?” I rolled my eyes.

“Here,” He let go of my wrist to pull off his hoodie. The thick fabric of his jacket caused for his shirt to come up with it slightly, revealing a sliver of his toned stomach. I watched with my arms crossed as he readjusted himself and tossed the hoodie into my hands. “Put this on,” he told me, his eyebrows crinkled in annoyance.

“I’m not cold,” I handed him back the bundle of tan fabric. It was mad stupid that he was giving me his jacket when he was complaining about the cold restaurant earlier whereas I was fine in my tank top.

“Please don’t argue with me and put on the jacket, Y/N,” he was steadily loosing more patience as he looked from my face, down to my revealing shirt and my wide set hips, and then behind me. Not thinking about what the issue was, I tossed him his hoodie back for the second time.

“JusT TAKE THE JACKET,” He snapped making me roll my eyes even more as I dipped out and walked to the front of the restaurant.

Once past Justin’s uglass, I got in line so I could order a slice of each type of pie they sold. I hummed happily and swayed my hips as that on Sia song played lowly throughout the building. I was only alone again for a moment before one of the dudes from the other table made his way behind me in line. Curving the nigga, I took out my phone and scrolled through Twitter as I waited patiently for the line to speed up.

“So you like an twitter baddie?” I jumped in surprise for the second time of the day.

“What?” I looked back at the large guy who was licking his lips, trying hard to seem attractive.

“Nah, she thick and cute,” Another guy from the table appeared out of nowhere. “You an Instagram model huh? You be selling them fitness teas and shit?” He now addressed me as if I was a real life human.

“None of your business,” I said lowly and turned back to look at the menu that was written out above the registers.

“Hey, I like your shirt. It’s very cute,”  the first guy said but not surprisingly, he looked at every part of my body that wasn’t covered by the the holed up tank I was sporting. Just as I was about to tell them to fuck off, Justin came to the rescue.

“Here’s your jacket that you left in the car, baby,” He handed me his jacket with a fake smile on his face. I gratefully took and pulled on his hoodie. Instead of brawling with the dudes like I expected him to, Justin took the non confrontational approach and did the thing we haven’t needed to do in a while: played boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Thank you, dear,” I spoke, thinking that would be enough to ward off the bums.

“Aye, so are you gon let me get your number or…” the main guy boldly asked.

“My girl does not want your number,” Justin spoke up.

“Ayeeee, you’re that Bieber nigga,” the second guy got hype over Justin’s fame.

“You really be letting this white nigga hit that?” #1 laughed out.

“He is my boyfriend,” I scoffed.

“I own this ass so you guys don’t mind,” Justin exaggerated and did the most when his arm slid around my waist and his hand squeezed at my ass a few times.

“Alright we see you bro,” The guy shook Justin’s hand then when back to a conversation with his other friend.

“This is why I tell your ass to wear more clothes,” Justin scolded in my ear. His hand did not stop rubbing at my ass and spoke, still putting on an act for the guys behind him. Justin loved the hype and attention by having a beautiful girl on his arm. And no offense but I am the baddest of them all therefore, he’s going to take advantage of the situation as long as he could.

“Justin, please stop touching me,” I shivered. I was just like a teenage boy, it took nothing for me to get worked up.

“Why?” Justin looked down at my face before busting out laughing. “What is this turning you on?”

“Leave me alone,” I moved his hand but he used it to get behind me and wrap his hands around me.

“We’ll as your boyfriend, I feel as though I should take care of that for you,” He left a well placed kiss on my neck.

“Nahhh, we’re not about to do this again,” I tried my best not to completely melt into Justin.

“It was good for you last time but i think it’s will be even better since we have access to a bed,” Justin reminded me of the relief we both felt two weeks ago when we hooked up for the first time in the tour bus bathroom. Since there were two nights in LA of performing, we were staying in a hotel that was just down the street. A hotel… with beds.

“Yeah okay,” I gave in easily. In the words of R. Jelly, ‘my mind’s telling me no but my body, my body is telling me yes’.

“You wanted a slice of apple pie?” Justin guessed correctly as to what my order was going to be. I nodded a quick yes. “Room 693. I’ll be there in 10,” Justin handed over this hotel room key.

I snatched it from him, waved a goodbye to the rest of the crew, and made my way back to the hotel. I got into Justin’s room quickly and waited on the bed for him in my underwear. In almost exactly ten minutes, the front door open and Justin came in my pie in tow.

“Which dessert do you want first?” Justin’s corny self asked.

“How about you eat while I eat,” I proposed while taking my pie from his hand. Justin laughed but happily obliged. I ate my first bite of pie while Justin opened my legs. I stopped chewing as Justin rubbed his fingers against my wet panties, getting a peek at how aroused he had gotten me. The second bite of pie went into my mouth as I watched Justin pull my soaking panties off.

“Do you want to save rest for later?” He looked from the pie to my face with a teasing look on his face. “ t’s not polite to moan my name with food in your mouth, babe,” at that sentence, I closed the container and set it to the side.

Justin had my full attention as he licked his finger and pushed it into my slit. He laughed yet again at my loss of breath as he added a second finger and pumped them in and out of my while his tongue danced along my clit. The pleasure was so good, I couldn’t help but latching my fingers into his hair and holding him down. He moaned out at my dominance making the sound tremble long my clit. A shiver ran through my body as I grinded myself against his face, wanting more. Justin removed his fingers and used his tongue to fuck into me.

“Say my name while I eat you like this,” Justin demanded, his brown eyes melting into mine. I nodded and pulled him back to my core. The moment I started whimpering his name, he inflicted so much pleasure upon my body, I didn’t know what to do.

“Right here?” He asked as he looked up at me, his fingers plunging slowly into the spot that makes me cry out. I nodded yes making him speed up for me.

“You know what I want you to do? I want you to squirt all over me. You told me you were a squirter but I want to see it for myself,” He hummed before taking no mercy on me. Justin hit the same perfect angle faster and faster while he sucked my clit into his mouth.

“Justin Justin,” I called out his name and my thighs clenched around his head. At me locking up on him, he held my thighs down on the edge of the bed as he ate my pussy like no other.

“Are you about to squirt for me, babe?” He asked before swiping up and down my clit as fast as possible. I stood no chance to hold back. With the moaning of his name, Justin caused an orgasm to ripple inside of me and spill all over his face and bed.

“Good girl,” He praised me while licking what he could reach off his face. I wanted him hazily as I was still shaking from my orgasm.  Thinking he was giving to give me time to regroup, I was proven wrong as he positioned me on all fours on the edge of the bed. I moaned out as Justin pushed himself completely inside of me without warning. The sound of wetness our bodies made almost had me fainting.

“You know what I love the most about fucking you?” He was moving slow and deep into me making my pussy cave in around him. “I love how wet you stay for me and how I can feel you clenching onto me. Do you like the way I feel inside of you?” He asked, pulling my hips back to meet his harshly.

“Yes, baby,” He had me losing my mind.

“Who do these belong to?” Justin grabbed my breasts roughly.

“You, Justin,” I murmured as Justin let out a groan when he was particularly deep inside me.

“What about this ass?” he slapped it before grabbing and rubbing them the same was he did in the restaurant.

“It’s yours,” I cried out each and every time he continued to slap it.

“And what about this pussy?” Justin flipped me on my back and pulled me to him with my ankles. He looked high off of power as he pounded into me while rubbing quickly at my clit.

“I asked who’s pussy is this,” He spoke again, over my whimpering.

“It yours. It’s all yours. I’m all yours,” I moaned hysterically. As Justin gave me exactly what I needed I couldn’t help my cover my face with my hands, trying to stop the moans.

“Let me hear you scream my name,” Justin pulled my hands away from my fave as he sped up his thrusts. His name left my mouth until I could no longer get a breath out. My whole body disconnected frown earth for half a second before my second orgasm slipped out of me. I watched with low eyes as Justin pulled out of me and kneeled over my body with his dick in hand. My mouth watered at the desperate way he pumped himself.

“Come on baby. Cum all over me,” I whined, edging him on. He could only strike himself two more times before his eyes sealed shut and his cum oozed out of his cock in squirts that covered my body.

“So are you going to eat the rest of my pie of can I have some?” Justin asked moment later, laying beside my worn out body.

"Run us a bath and we can shared the rest of it in the tub, friend,” I hummed with my eyes closed. 

“You got it, pal,” Justin got up and went into the bathroom.

Sex, apple pie, a bath, and friendship is the perfect way to end a night.

I Have No Idea

Here is my entry for Ana’s @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms “Shit My Patients Say” Challenge.  The prompt I chose was #2 “I have no idea how that got there”

Summary: Sam’s healthy diet has you and Dean sneaking around at night.

warnings: none, just food and fluff with Dean

word count: ~920


You walked through the bunker in the middle of the night, headed for the kitchen.  Sam had recently enacted a healthy eating challenge for all of you, wanting to help you and Dean get into better eating habits than you were currently in, and the whole thing was kicking your butt.  You were starving all the time.

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anonymous asked:

zimbits where bitty is ace but jack is not? maybe starting with angst/realization and ending with fluff,

Hey, everyone, lots of feels here. I’m demisexual myself so this prompt def spoke to me and hopefully y’all enjoy! And make sure to watch for the Read More) -avidreader6

Bitty had been home almost a whole month and had been unable to stop thinking about graduation and The Kiss.

Resting his face in his hands, Bitty tried to clear his mind and think clearly. The problem was that Jack was going to be here, in his house, sleeping in the same room with him in two days. He and Jack had been texting and talking almost daily since they’d both left Samwell and Bitty was filled with joy every time he saw Jack smile at him or laughed at one Jack’s rare jokes. Bitty had never felt this way about someone before. He’d never had a problem finding people attractive, but actually wanting them for a relationship or sexually had never entered into any of his fantasies.

Bitty let his head drop to the table and he groaned as his thoughts, once again, turned to Jack. As he and Jack had gotten closer throughout the year, Bitty couldn’t deny he wanted something with him. He was a hopeless romantic at heart and his head was filled of soft candlelit dinners and holding hands and a kiss or two. Bitty loved those fantasies. But his heart fell when he remembered what usually came after all the romantic dates.

A shudder ran through his whole body whenever Bitty tried to imagine sex. He understood the mechanics of it (thank you, mother) and why people enjoyed it, but he’d just never been able to imagine himself wanting that. From the way Rans and Holster went on and on about it, Bitty knew it was something he should want, but no matter what, he just could not seem to find the urge.

Lost in his own thoughts, Bitty never heard his father come into the kitchen. “Somethin’ on your mind, son? You’re not usually the one sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of your mother’s pie in the middle of the night.”

Jumping at the sound of his father’s voice, Bitty sat up and looked down at his empty plate in front of him and shrugged. “Can’t sleep, I guess.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Bitty could feel Coach watching him, and he shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe, Coach, I? I’m a little lost.”

Coach set another piece of pie on Bitty’s plate and refilled his glass of milk before grabbing his own plate and taking a seat. “I know I have not always been the greatest dad to you Eric, but I want to help, if I can.”

Bitty studied his father and saw nothing but an earnest desire to help. Before the whole peewee football incident, Bitty had always seen his dad as this giant who would let nothing bad ever happen. Bitty had wanted so badly to show him he was big and strong too and that he could play football and make Coach proud. After that had ended and he’d chosen ice skating, and no matter how much his mom had said otherwise, Bitty had been sure his dad’s silence was disapproval.

Taking a bite of pie, Bitty tried to find the best way to say what he needed. “Thanks, Coach. I met someone at school and nothing really happened til the end of the year and we kissed and I liked it, but I don’t know if I want…the other stuff.”

Coach took a bite of pie and studied Bitty. After he’d swallowed, he set his fork down and beckoned Bitty over. “Come here, Eric.”

Scooting his chair closer to his dad, Bitty tried to figure out what Coach was going to say. “Coach?”

One big hand settled on Bitty’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Now, do you care about this person?”

“So much.”

“And do they care about you?”

“They do, dad. I know it.”

Coach swallowed hard. Bitty hadn’t called him dad in quite some time. “Good.” Coach took a deep breath. “I know your mother has given you the talk, and I’m sure she was very thorough.”

Bitty shuddered, remembering his mother’s no nonsense speech and the diagrams she’d brought. “So thorough.”

A chuckle slipped out of Coach’s mouth and they both relaxed a little. “What I’m trying to say is that sex is not the biggest part of a relationship. It’s a small part. What makes a good relationship is all the other stuff. The talking and learning about each other and, yes, even the arguing. It brings you closer together. And if this person truly cares about you they will understand if you want to wait and take things slow, or maybe even hold off altogether. They should want you, Bunny, not just to get into your pants.”

Bitty choked at the use of his old nickname. Many readings of The Runaway Bunny, and the constant presence of Senor Bun had led to it and hearing it now soothed some of Bitty’s nerves because he knew his dad meant every word he’d just said.

“Dad?”

Coach stood and gathered their plates, depositing them in the sink. “Remember what I always told you? From that book you loved? When the little bunny says he’ll turn himself into a bird?”

Bitty nodded. “That you’d be like the mama bunny and be a place I can come home to?”

“I meant it, Eric. And I still do. No matter what you. You’ve always got a place to call home. Understand?”

Pushing back from the table, Bitty hurried over and threw his arms around his dad. “I understand.”

“Good. And this person? He, she, they better appreciate you, or I will have to have words with them.”

Bitty laughed. “Oh my god, dad!”

Coach just squeezed Bitty harder. “My son is catch and he deserves to be treated as the amazing man he is.”

Bitty hugged his dad one more time before letting go. “Thanks, dad. I think I can sleep now.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning. Your mother has a great list of chores for the both of us before your friend arrives.”

When Bitty’s head hit the pillow a few minutes later, he had no trouble falling asleep safe in the knowledge that things would be okay.

(watch for the ‘Keep Reading’)

Keep reading

Okay, so hear me out: Chowder signs with the Las Vegas Aces his senior year at Samwell:

  • (Okay fair warning I’m not a hockey fan I’m a baseball person so my perception of how signings and trading happens is largely dominating by that so let me know if I’m glaringly wrong anywhere and also this got really long whoops)
  • Chowder hadn’t really thought too much about the NHL until his junior year, when Jack pulls him aside after the first game he had been able to get away from Providence to see
  • Jack says “there’s at least two teams with scouts in the stands looking at you thinking about prospect camp spots for the summer, so if you need advice - or an agent - let me know and at the very least I can put you in touch with my dad”.
  • Then Chowder starts thinking about it. Like, a lot.

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I Like You

“Psst! Hey! Hey, Cas!”

Cas looked around, confused, trying to figure out who was calling his name.

“Look down,” he heard, so he did. His eyes widened in surprise. His best friend Dean was sitting comfortably under the Winchesters’ dining table, eating a large slice of pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream. “C’mere,” Dean said, gesturing with his free hand.

Written for the prompt: Imagine your OTP eating pie underneath the dining room table, as Thanksgiving family madness happens around them. (1.2k)

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Americans, and happy random Thursday to everyone else!

[AO3]

“Psst! Hey! Hey, Cas!”

Cas looked around, confused, trying to figure out who was calling his name.

“Look down,” he heard, so he did. His eyes widened in surprise. His best friend Dean was sitting comfortably under the Winchesters’ dining table, eating a large slice of pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream. “C’mere,” Dean said, gesturing with his free hand.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, frowning in confusion.

“Just come on,” Dean said, waving for Cas to join him.

Cas glanced around. No one was paying him any attention. “I have another piece for you,” Dean added, and that was the final motivation Cas needed. He slid down his seat until he was seated next to Dean and grabbing the other plate.

“Why are you under the table?” Cas asked again curiously.

“Because,” Dean said. “There are too many people up there. And Aunt Missouri won’t stop asking me how school’s going. Why does she even care?”

“Oh,” Cas said, taking a bite of the pie. Dean’s mom had made it the previous afternoon, and it tasted as amazing as it always did. “So how long are you planning to sit down here?” he asked in between mouthfuls.

“As long as necessary,” Dean said, dead serious, and Cas noticed, not for the first time, the complete stubbornness in his green eyes.

“I’ll stay, too,” Cas decided, spreading his legs out in front of him and leaning against one of the table legs.

A few years earlier, the Winchesters and Novaks (next-door neighbors and close family friends) had decided to host Thanksgiving dinner together, and they’d done it every year since. All of their family and some close friends would gather in the Winchester’s dining room (and living room because they had so many people) to eat and be together, and it was one of Cas’ favorite days of the year.

“Did you bring your turkey home?” he asked Dean as he ate his last bite of pie. Their third-grade class had made turkeys out of construction paper during craft time earlier that week and Cas personally thought that Dean’s was the best. He’d told him as much when Dean had finished, and he remembered how Dean had flushed with pride.

“Yes, it’s on the fridge,” Dean said happily. “Mom said it was beautiful and wanted to be able to see it all the time.”

Cas smiled too. “Mine’s in my bedroom at my desk. I had to make sure Gabe wouldn’t steal it. He’s mean sometimes.”

“Yeah, he is,” Dean agreed. They peered out from under the table, observing what their families were doing. On the other side of the room, Dean’s parents John and Mary were looking at the pictures on the wall and making comments about them. Cas’ mother Naomi was not far away, having a discussion with a friend of hers from work, Linda Tran, as Linda’s son Kevin stood not far away. They could see Gabriel chasing Dean’s younger brother Sam around, Sam laughing hysterically, and in the corner by the TV Uncle Bobby was talking to Ellen Harvelle, both of them completely absorbed in their conversation.

“I think they like each other,” Cas said, eyes pausing on Uncle Bobby and Ellen.

Dean followed his gaze. “Me too,” he said. “I think Uncle Bobby’s gonna ask her out and then they’ll kiss. That’s what grownups do when they like each other.”

“What do kids do when they like each other?” Cas asked curiously, and Dean shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Share toys? Draw each other pictures? Maybe they kiss too.”

“Really?” Cas asked, and Dean nodded. Cas pondered that for a moment before leaning forward to peck Dean on the lips in an innocent kiss. “I like you, Dean,” Cas said, and Dean grinned.

“I like you too.”


Fifteen years later, Dean and Cas (now twenty-three) sat on the couch snuggled up together after a full Thanksgiving meal. Most of their family had gone home by now and their parents were cleaning up while Sam and Gabriel had gone outside to talk, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the living room.

“How many years have we been doing this?” Dean asked, fingers tracing light patterns on Cas’ arm.

“You mean this?” Cas quipped, referring to their current position.

Dean laughed. “No, having Thanksgiving dinner here,” he said. “It’s gotta be eighteen years at least…”

“Something like that,” Cas agreed. “Why?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing, I was just thinkin’ how we sat under the table that one year to eat our pie. Remember? And we watched what everyone else was doing ‘til they left and we fell asleep.”

Cas smiled. “How could I forget? And your mom had to carry us up to your bedroom so we didn’t spend the whole night on the floor.”

“She did, didn’t she,” Dean said with a chuckle. “I wonder if we can still fit…” Dean mused as he stared at the table, and it was Cas’ turn to laugh.

“We were quite a bit smaller then,” he teased.

That didn’t stop Dean from standing and reaching out his hand, an unmistakably mischievous twinkle in his eye. “C’mere,” he said, and Cas recalled eight-year old Dean saying the same thing. He hadn’t been able to resist then, and he wasn’t able to now either.

Dean got down on his hands and knees and crawled under the table, careful not to bump his head as he sat up and Cas followed him.

“Hi,” Dean said softly.

“Hi,” Cas answered with a smile.

Dean glanced around. “Wish we had some pie.”

“Yeah, it’s not quite the same without,” Cas replied, nudging Dean’s shoulder.

“I know what would make it better,” Dean said slyly.

Cas humored him. “And what would that be, Dean?”

Dean shifted so he was kneeling in front of Cas and pulled out a little black box from his jacket pocket, opening it to reveal a beautiful gold band. “Marry me?” he asked simply, and Cas sat in shock for a second before he came to his senses, rising up to grasp Dean’s face in his hands and pull it to his, kissing him breathless. “Yes, yes!” he whispered. “God, yes!”

Dean smiled against his mouth, and murmured, “Good.” They broke apart so Dean could slide the smooth gold band onto Cas’ finger and then Dean pulled him in for another kiss. When they separated again, Cas laughed.

“This is where we had our first kiss,” he said. “Is that how you planned it?”

Dean nodded bashfully. “I, uh, wanted to make it special.”

“Well, you made the perfect choice,” Cas said with a smile.

That night, as they cuddled up together in Dean’s old bed for the first time as an engaged couple, they watched the stars out the window, something they had always done during sleepovers at Dean’s house. Just before they drifted off to sleep, Dean uttered three familiar words and Cas replied as he knew how.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Forgive the half-assed ficlet, my dears, but my writing time has been short lately and while I would have liked to have something a bit more polished for @lecteronthelam‘s Mardi Gras event, it was not to be.  So please forgive the very rushed, rough draft of a thing which vaguely flirts with the notion of discussing New Orleans and so is maybe technically within the rules of the event.


the silver branch

(or: the one where Hannibal bakes a pie and has no chill)

Hannibal postponed his own first bite of the pie to watch Will savor his.  Watching closely, he was fairly certain he could tell when the first hint of the bourbon broke over Will’s palate.  He waited for the faint twitch of a smile, then turned to his own plate.

They ate a few bites in companionable silence before Will spoke.

“You used the good stuff.  You know it’s insane to waste that on baking, right?”

Hannibal gave that the half-second’s consideration that was all it deserved before responding: “If you can taste the difference, then it wasn’t wasted.”  Will rolled his eyes in decidedly rude fashion and popped another forkful into his mouth.  He chewed thoughtfully for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes.  

Hannibal bit back the astringent taste of jealousy long enough to ask, “Where have you gone, Will?”

A soft, noncommittal hum and another bite of pie passed before Will refocused and answered him.  “Ancient history.  I was thinking about this little café back in New Orleans.  They stayed open late and I’d stop there sometimes after my shift. Their pecan pie was the best I’d ever had, at the time.  You’d have hated it.  The whipped cream came from a can.”  

His smile was bright and nearly malicious as he punctuated that with another bite, leaving Hannibal to shudder near-imperceptibly at the thought of sprayed-on whipped cream, and at the glimpse of Will’s teeth closing around his fork.

(cont’d under the cut)

Keep reading

Jensen Ackles biting his lip appreciation

I could watch his lips all day

beautifully sculpted and i think they’d feel just really soft against yours

can you PLEASE stop because this hurts

WHY

that little crease at the centre of his bottom lip (✿◠‿◠)

his bottom lip sigh

Please feel free to add more

Caught Hook Handed

Lines are tested at Thanksgiving dinner! Lots of fluff and of course lots of smut;)

Rated M You can read more of my work here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrose82/works

“I still don’t really get what this holiday is all about. Every year I try to understand, but it just seems like everyone is getting together just to eat turkey and pumpkin pie. Besides there are much more important things pie,” Killian teased, playfully biting the soft skin between her neck and shoulder.

“Killian, I already told you. We don’t have time. We are already going to be late,” Emma giggled, a shiver running down her spine from his ministrations. Damn, that man was gonna test her self control today.

“Let them wait, darling,” Hook practically purred in her ear.

“I know they know why we are late every time. Our family doesn’t need anymore reasons to pick on us,” She moaned, as his hand traveled further down, playing with the seam of her navy blue dress. She could feel his hardening erection against the crease of her ass. Pull it together, Emma she thought!

It was crazy that they had been married for almost five years and he could still pull this kind of excitement from her. God, she had it bad. Emma quickly turned around and placed a brief chaste kiss to his lips, then spun around making her way to the kitchen to take the pie out of the oven.

“Easy tiger, you think you can wait a few more hours?” She laughed, staring at the bulge in his pants.

Keep reading

Did you think I would go with him?” He paused mid-bite, then lowered his fork. “I heard every word between you. I knew you could take care of yourself, and yet … ” He went back to his pie, swallowing a bite before continuing. “And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it. It would be your choice.” I sipped from my wine. “And if he had grabbed me?” There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. “Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.
—  Feyre and Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury