#spice packaging material | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

g-xix · 5 months

Text

🔞 Supermilker3000 | ArthurTV

Part of [kinktober]

CWs: Sex toys w a partner

---------------------------------

I wanna say that Arthur's got toys.

You introduced the standard handcuffs into the bedroom, and ironically, Chris introduced the supermilker3000 into your sex life.

It was initially just a joke: Chris bought it over a £10 vs £1000 video, and had you come into the room to react to the present he'd bought Arthur, too. You were shocked and extremely humoured simultaneously, and Arthur's incessant shouts of horror and I'M NEVER USING THIS, THIS IS BARBARIC! had you creasing for longer than you should've been. Arthur kept it as a little part of his background display - displaying it proudly in a space within his bookshelf between the likes of Darwin and Brontë so that it became an iconic part of his streaming backdrop, from that day onwards... Something which the fans would screenshot and laugh at; a testimony for the chaos of the £10 vs £10,000 videos Chris conducted.

It just so happened, however, that one night after a little bit of drinking, Arthur and yourself returned back to the bedroom with an interesting thought - telling him to lie down on the bed before taking the thing out of it's packaging and crawling over to him on the mattress. "What the hell have you got that for?" Arthur asked, slightly cautious initially. You laughed a little at his horror, but consoled him with a pat on the thigh and: "C'mon, I jus' wanna try something - surely you've wondered what it feels like - you can tap out if you don't like it, please, I just wanna see what it's like..."

Arthur grudgingly agreed, mainly just agreeing under the pretences that you'd stop when he asked, but also - unbeknown to you - a little bit of interest for how it really would feel. Finding the switch, you fitted the tube around Arthur's length first, watching as Arthur squirmed almost uncomfortably at the initial sensation - a mix of pleasure from the lubricated silicon, and discomfort from the coolness of the material around his cock. You waited until he seemed settled before flicking the switch onto the lowest setting, watching as Arthur gasped - a slight convulsion within his centre, breathing heavily as his hands reached to grab fingerfuls of the blanket around him. "You want me to stop?" You asked, finger already poised atop the off button, ready to stop it in case it was too much for Arthur - yet he shook his head with eyes closed, shocking you at his resilience initially - though continuing to shock you even more as you watched his head roll back, slightest of moans dropping from his lips as he bucked his hips up slightly, clearly enjoying the stimulation.

And it was fair to say that you were in awe, yet enjoying it just as much - moving your hand up and down with it a little bit, stimulating all his shaft and watching as you broke the mind of the man in front of you. His breathing started quickening, hands quivering around the fistfuls of blanket he held onto, and with one devious kitten-lick to his tip whilst the supermilker3000 worked on the base - Arthur's orgasm-moan was music to your ears - watching as he climaxed, white dribbling from his tip and down his shaft as you upped the vibration speed, powering him through his orgasm and milking him for every drop.

Positive result? You'd found a new way to spice up your sex life.

...Negative result? Scrolling through Twitter about a week later, your timeline featured a few pictures of Arthur's stream set up with a circle behind his head - second picture zoomed in and honing in on the iconic Supermilker3000 box, which was now quite clearly opened and lidless.

Fair to say that you and Arthur both received a myriad of incredulous messages from Chris the next day, asking for a synopsis of whathefuckHAPPENEDHAHA as well as being tagged in a variety of pictures from fans which had you only slightly regretting being so complacent, that night.

-------------------

Hope that title was a jumpscare lol 💀... Just working on an ATV NSFW alphabet atm n thought the "toys" section was worthy of it's own little teaser oneshot (do lmk any thoughts we have on this one ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

p.s. Customise which Oneshots YOU want to be tagged in by submitting your preferences on THIS GOOGLE FORM!

TAGLIST: @clarkeysbog, @springholland, @mrsnoclue69, @martini4lyfe, @xxkatxgracexx, @sunshinesunny, @danric03, @zandrax, @kennysimp101, @anaaye7, @insomniac4000, @Sssunflowersmiles, @musicalburrage. @Ajcs150, @chrissturnioloswifesblog, @x-d1vine, @lordzzz, @lilyyxoii, @amberrrx

#WAFFLE!!#arthurtv #atv #arthur frederick #atv oneshot #atv smut #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv smut #arthurtv imagine #chrismd #chris dixon #x reader #chaos crew #toys #kinktober

170 notes · View notes

straylightdream · 1 year

Text

silk & desperation

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: seo changbin x f.reader

establish relationship

↳ after over two years together you decide to spice things up and use a blindfold.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: I decided to make a new series about couples testing out new things in bed and discovering new kinks. Minho or Hyunjin are probably next stories I’ll post in this series.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, piv, fingering and oral (fem receiving), blindfolded sex, multiple orgasms, nicknames such as: baby, and kitten

You’ve been with Changbin for two and half years now and this is the happiest you have been in a relationship. He’s the best boyfriend you could ask for. He supports you in every way he possibly can. At dinner the other night Changbin asked if in bed he could try something new. You didn’t think about it too much knowing whatever he wanted to try would probably be something you would enjoy. After being together for so long you have tried quite a few new things together in bed.

Laying on your bed you watched as Changbin held out a package he had bought you. Reaching out you take the expensive black bag. Removing the tissue paper you raise your eyebrow at the sight of cream colored lace. He had just returned home from a long business trip and he told you he had a present.

Pulling the lace bra out of the bag you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is. Sitting the bra on your bed you pull out a small piece of lace material. You find him smirking as you hold lace crotchless panties.

“Changbin,” you smile.

“Put it on, baby. I have another surprise for you,” he smiles, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. The wicked grin on his face lets you know he has something up his sleeve. You trust him fully, and you know whatever he has planned you’ll enjoy.

Going off to the bathroom you change into the lace set. Looking in the mirror you can’t help but adore the beautiful set he picked out. The bra had no padding so your bare breast was fully visible. You felt completely beautiful and sexy.

Walking out into the bedroom you find Changbin sitting on the bed. He’s sitting there with his shirt off and only in his tight black jeans. He stands holding a piece of silk material in his hand. Biting his bottom lip he holds out the material.

You raise your eyebrow curious about what his plan is, “yes Changbin?”

“How do you feel about blindfolds?” he asks.

Butterflies flutter around your stomach at the thought of him blindfolding you. You’ve mentioned before in passing you always wondered what it would be like to be blindfolded during sex.

“I trust you. As long as you don’t hurt me do whatever you want,” you turn around so your back is to him.

He moves behind you. Pulling your hair to the side he presses his lips to the side of your neck. Tilting your head to the side you moan at the feeling of his lips on your skin. Slowly he drags his tongue across the delicate skin on your neck. He knows all the right places to kiss to leave you moaning.

With his lips brushing your ear he whispers, “I need you to trust me.” You trusted him with your life and he knew that. He holds the silk blindfold out in front of you. And you shiver with anticipation. He ties it in a knot behind your head leaving you completely blind.

“I’m gonna make you feel good,” his lips are brushing against your ear again.

He presses himself up against your back and you can already feel his hardening length pressing into your lower back.

Slowly he drags his hand down your soft stomach. Biting your bottom lip you take in the feeling of his fingers touching your skin.

He whispers sinful words into your ear as his fingers brush over your lace covered mound. “Oh sweet angel,” he murmurs with his lips brushing against your skin.

You roll your body back against him, earning a moan.

He grins as he brushes his fingers through your already dampened folds. His finger brushes your sensitive clit earning a moan from you. He knows exactly how sensitive you are.

“I see my baby girl likes that,” he purrs into your ear.

“Changbin,” you whine.

“Let’s lay you down on the bed,” he steps away from you, he takes your hand leading you to the bed. You lay down in the middle of the bed awaiting whatever Changbin has planned for you.

He removes his pants leaving him in only his boxers as he crawls onto bed. Sitting on top of your thighs he leans down running his tongue from the valley of your breast down your stomach. You breathlessly pant at the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

Crawling off you he spreads your legs laying down with his face just where you desperately want it. He slowly drags his tongue through your fold, you can’t help the loud moan you let out.

“You’re already so wet.” You can’t take him teasing you too much tonight. You’re practically ready to beg him. You’re putty in his hands tonight and he already knows that.

“Changbin help me,” you whine.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says before connecting his lips to your sensitive clit. Reaching forward you tangle your fingers in his blonde hair holding him exactly where you want him. Being blindfolded feels like it’s sending your senses into overdrive. With each lap of his tongue he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He slides his fingers into you, he curls them just right and brushes the spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He keeps his mouth on you as you find your release.

The bed dips as he gets off to remove his boxers. He crawls back on the bed and finds a spot between your legs once again. He’s sitting on his hunches as he lines up with your entrance. He takes your legs, putting them over his shoulders. He pushes into you with one slow thrust. As he bottoms out you moan his name. He’s stretching you in the best way possible. He may not have the longest cock but he’s definitely the thickest you have ever taken. Even though you can’t see him you know he’s sporting his signature smirk. He stays completely still for a long moment before he starts moving his hips at an extremely slow pace. Opening your mouth you go to moan his name but nothing comes out. He’s managed to leave you speechless.

He rolls his hips into you over and over. The room is filled with your moans and his heaving breathing and the echoing sound of skin slapping skin. With each slow thrust the oxygen feels like it’s being sucked out of the room as he leaves you breathless.

Dropping one of your legs, he moves his hand to the soft skin on your stomach. His touch is electric.

“Changbin,” you moan. Your brain is drunk on pleasure and lust that his name is the only word you seem to know.

“Baby,” he responds back with a moan.

You’re so close. With each thrust he picks up his pace a little. You know he’s going slow because he wants to drag this out. He wants to make this last as long as possible. There have been many nights where he’s gone incredibly slow so he can edge you, and you’re praying tonight isn’t one of those nights.

Needy moans pass his pouty lips. You can’t help but smile at the beautiful sounds he’s making.

“Do you like not being able to see me?” He thrust into you harder than before. You can tell this whole experience has him drunk on lust.

“It’s so hot,” you moan. There was something about not being able to see what he’s doing to you that turns you on even more.

“Does my kitten want to try more things?” a wicked grin plays across his face.

“Changbin I’m close,” you whine hoping he’ll pick up his pace.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go faster and harder. I need you badly,” you reach for his hand that is resting on your stomach. “I need you close.”

He takes your over leg off his shoulder and moves so he’s hovering over you. He rolls his hips into yours at a quicker pace. His lips are attached to your collarbone and work their way up your neck. He knows all the right spots to kiss you that send shivers down your spine.

Your fingers claw at his back pulling him as close as possible to him. The sounds of his moan by your ear are enough to push you over the edge. You fall apart moaning his name.

Your walls pulling on his hardened length are enough to push him over the edge. He comes inside you as you hold on to him. Your name has never sounded as sweet as it did as he found his release.

Rolling off you he lays on the bed next to you. Both your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your highs.

“Changbin, can we take the blindfold off now?” you ask, receiving a laugh from him.

He removes the silk from your eyes and you're greeted with a smile. Leaning down he presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss.

“That was fun,” you smile.

“I enjoyed it,” he responds.

“Thank you for that,” you say, causing him to let out a soft chuckle.

“Any time love.”

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form. I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #Changbin #Changbin x reader #Changbin smut #Changbin x you #changbin insert reader #kpop smut #my writing #trying new things #silk chiffon #changbun imagine #changbin fanfiction #skz #skz x reader

386 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 months

Text

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twenty-Two

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The ship docks at Hotaru Island, the air thick with the scent of lavender and the distant hum of fireflies waiting to start their nightly dance. You step onto the gangplank, your simple dress fluttering in the warm breeze. Everyone had their own tasks to complete before meeting up at the local tavern for dinner. Everyone but you. You hadn't really decided who you wanted to accompany, but at least you did know one thing: You need space from Shanks, yet again.

Your eyes scan the men, and land on Hongo, who sits on a crate, scribbling in his notebook. His brow is furrowed, lost in concentration.

You approach him quietly, standing close enough to see the list of medical supplies he’s noting down.

“What’s on the agenda today, Doc?”

Hongo looks up, surprised but not displeased. You had been off, yet again, because of your arguments with Shanks. It would be good to get you away from the ship. “Aria. I’m making a list of things we need to restock the infirmary. Care to join me?”

You nod eagerly. “Sure. I’d like that.”

He stands, tucking the notebook into his pocket. Together, you navigate through the market streets, stalls bursting with colors and scents. The vendors call out their wares, but Hongo seems focused, knowing exactly where to go.

“Do you always know what you need off the top of your head?” you ask as you weave through a throng of people.

Hongo chuckles. “Years of practice. Plus, I like to keep my supplies well-organized. You know how OCD Benn is, he'd mutiny if the medical supplies aren't in order.”

You stop at a stall selling herbs and medicinal plants. Hongo inspects them with practiced hands, picking out a few bundles and exchanging some Berries with the vendor.

“These are for antiseptics,” he explains as he hands them to you.

You cradle the herbs carefully, feeling their rough texture against your fingers. The simple task makes you feel useful.

Next, Hongo leads you to an apothecary’s shop filled with glass jars and vials. The air inside is heavy with the smell of spices and tinctures. He greets the shopkeeper warmly before discussing various remedies and ointments.

“Grab that bottle of iodine,” Hongo instructs, pointing to a shelf above your head.

You reach up on tiptoes, fingers brushing against the cool glass before securing it in your hand. You hand it over to Hongo who adds it to his growing collection of supplies.

As you leave the shop, arms laden with packages and bundles, you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. “Thanks for letting me tag along,” you say.

Hongo smiles warmly at you. “It’s good to have company. And extra hands. But something tells me that you needed an excuse to get away from the ship…”

You take a deep breath, adjusting the bundles in your arms. “It’s Shanks. Things have been…tense between us lately.”

Hongo nods, waiting for you to continue. Everyone had been noticing the off and on tension between you and captain.

“It’s about me staying on the ship,” you say, the words spilling out faster now. “Shanks doesn’t want me to feel trapped or like I’m missing out on exploring the world because of him. But I just want to be happy, and right now, being with him and all of you makes me happy.”

Hongo listens intently, his expression thoughtful. “That sounds complicated. Have you told Shanks how you feel?”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. “I’ve tried, but every time we talk about it, we end up arguing. He thinks he’s doing what’s best for me by pushing me away, but it just makes things harder.”

Hongo stops at another stall to pick up a few more supplies, his movements deliberate as he considers your words.

“He cares about you a lot,” Hongo says finally. “Maybe he just needs time to understand that your happiness is tied to being with him.”

You nod, appreciating his perspective but still feeling the weight of uncertainty.

As you near the edge of the market, you see the tavern where the rest of the crew is supposed to meet up later. Hongo turns to you with a gentle smile.

“Why don’t I take these supplies back to the ship?” he offers.

“No,” you interrupt quickly, shaking your head for emphasis. “I’ll take them back myself. You go ahead and get us a table at the tavern. I could use some time alone to think.”

Hongo studies your face for a moment before nodding in agreement. You needed to sort your relationship problems out by yourself. “Alright then. But don’t hesitate to come find us if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Hongo,” you say softly.

You make your way back to the ship, lost in thought as you navigate through the bustling streets of the port town. The weight of the supplies in your arms serves as a reminder of your place among the pirates, but your mind is preoccupied with your unraveling relationship with Shanks.

As you approach the pier, you see the massive shape of the Red Force towering over the water. The sight of it brings a mix of emotions: happiness from being a home, but also sadness as you're reminded of the tension between you and the captain. You climb aboard, greeted by the familiar scent of salt and wood.

You carry the supplies to the medical room, each step echoing your mixed emotions. The room is cool and smells faintly of antiseptics and herbs. Carefully, you place the bundles of medicinal plants on the counter and start sorting through the vials and bottles Hongo had chosen. Each item finds its place on the shelves, lined up in a precise order that you’ve come to understand from watching Hongo.

Each shelf has a metal cover that gets closed in between uses so the bottles don't fall from the shelf and break. When you place the last bottle on the shelf, you pull down the metal cover and lock it in place before turning to the various packages of suture needles, i.v.’s, and other assorted sharps.

You kneel to check the crates, making sure they’re secure and won’t tip over during the next voyage. Your fingers run along the rough wood, tightening the lids and securing the latches. It seems secure enough.

As you stand and dust off your hands, you turn around and freeze. Shanks leans against the door jamb, one foot crossed over the other. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of frustration and longing swirling in their depths.

“Aria,” he starts, his voice low but steady.

Your heart skips a beat at his tone. “Shanks.”

He pushes off from the door frame and takes a step into the room. “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms, more for comfort than defiance. “About what?”

“About us.” His eyes search yours for understanding. “I know things have been rough between us lately.” The again went left unsaid.

“You think?” The sarcasm slips out before you can stop it. "I am beginning to think I should just move my ass to the crew quarters!"

“Watch your language,” Shanks warns, his voice a growl that vibrates through the room. "And I’ll continue to pretend you haven't been getting lessons on how to curse."

You can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips and raised an elegant eyebrow. “What are you going to do, captain? Spank me?”

The challenge in your voice hangs in the air between you two. For a moment, he stands still, eyes darkening with a mix of frustration and something else entirely. Before you can react, he strides forward, closing the distance between you in two long steps. His hand grips your arm, spinning you around so fast that your breath catches in your throat.

He pushes you against a stack of crates, the wood cool against your flushed skin. You feel his breath hot on your neck as his fingers grasp at the skirt of your dress and rake it up to your hip. Then without pause, his hand comes down on your backside with a sharp smack. The sting sends a shockwave through your body, making you yelp.

“You think this is a game?” His voice is low, dangerously controlled.

You barely have time to process his words before his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear. With one swift motion, he yanks them down to your knees. The sudden exposure makes your heart race even faster and your fingers dig into the wood you are pressed against.

Before you can utter a word, he positions himself behind you. The sound of his belt buckle clinking open and the rustle of fabric are the only warnings you get before he thrusts into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. A whine tears itself from your throat and your head drops back against Shanks' shoulder.

Shanks thrusts into you with a raw, unyielding force that leaves you breathless. Each movement sends shivers up your spine, your fingers digging into the rough wood of the crates for support. His right hand grips your hip tightly, pulling you back against him with every stroke forward.

The intensity of his movements leaves no room for words, only gasps and moans escaping your lips. The sounds of your bodies colliding echo in the small, enclosed space, mingling with the creaks of the ship around you.

Your mind races, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the flood of emotions coursing through you. The tension that had been building between you two finds its release in this raw, primal connection.

Shanks' breath is hot against your neck as he leans in closer, his grip on your hip tightening. You can feel the power in his movements, the pent-up frustration and desire pouring out with every thrust.

You push back against him, meeting his rhythm with equal fervor. The pleasure builds rapidly, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your nails dig into the crates as you fight to keep yourself upright.

Shanks' voice is a low growl in your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" His words are punctuated by a particularly hard thrust that makes you cry out.

You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The intensity of the moment consumes you both, leaving no room for anything but this raw connection.

The heat between you builds to a fever pitch, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Your body trembles under his relentless pace, each thrust driving you closer to release.

Finally, with a strangled cry, you feel yourself shatter around him. Your muscles tighten and convulse as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your legs tremble and shake beneath you, lasting ripples of your orgasm washing through every part of your body. When you suck in a deep breath, trying to calm your breathing, Shanks lips find your neck and begins to place elongated kisses there.

Shanks’ lips trail down your neck, his kisses deliberate and lingering. Each touch of his mouth sends electric jolts through your body, making you squirm against him. Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as his hand holds you firmly in place, preventing any escape from the intoxicating sensations he’s eliciting.

You can’t take it any longer. The need to feel his lips on yours overwhelms you. With a sudden burst of energy, you turn around to face him, your eyes locking onto his with a fiery intensity.

Before he can react, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him toward you. Your lips crash together in a fierce kiss, all the pent-up emotions and desire pouring out in that single moment. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens.

You kiss Shanks with a fervor that borders on desperation, mouths open and tongues tangling in a dance of raw need. The taste of him consumes you, a heady mix of salt and something uniquely Shanks. His favorite whiskey perhaps? Your fingers clutch at his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer as his hand finds the small of your back, pressing you against the crates behind you.

Without breaking the kiss, Shanks' lifts you effortlessly and you feel yourself being placed on the crates. The feel of his muscles flexing beneath your hands makes you moan in appreciation. His hand soon moves with purpose, shoving your skirt aside with a sense of urgency that matches your own. The cool air hits your wet, exposed skin, heightening every sensation as his fingers trace a path up your inner thigh.

Then he’s there, filling you again with a force that makes you moan against his mouth and arch your back. The rhythm he sets is relentless, each thrust driving deeper than the last. Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding on as waves of pleasure roll through you.

The crates creak beneath you with each movement, the sound mingling with your breathless moans and the raw grunts escaping Shanks' lips. Every stroke sends sparks of electricity coursing through your veins, your body responding to him in ways you’ve never experienced before. Not even with him. It's just not enough, you'll never have enough if him to be fully satisfied. Some part of your body will always long for his touch.

Shanks thrusts into you with a relentless rhythm, each movement driving you closer to the edge once more. The intensity of his pace leaves you breathless, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you as the pleasure builds.

“Shanks,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He responds with a low growl, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you even closer. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is hot and demanding, a perfect mirror of the fervor between your bodies.

The pleasure mounts rapidly, each stroke pushing you higher and higher until it feels like you might burst from the intensity of it all. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks as you cling to him.

You feel the coil of heat in your cunt tighten to an almost unbearable degree. Shanks seems to sense it too, his movements becoming even more focused, each thrust aimed at driving you over the edge.

With one final, powerful stroke, the coil snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, every muscle in your body tensing and convulsing with the force of it. You throw your head back against the crates and scream out his name as pleasure rips through every part of your being.

Shanks continues to move within you, drawing out every last tremor of your climax until you're left trembling and breathless beneath him. His own breathing is ragged, and you can feel his heart pounding against your chest once again.

As the last waves of pleasure ebb away, you're left feeling utterly spent but profoundly satisfied. Once again you have fucked out all your frustrations. But simply expelling these emotions will not solve the problem existing between you. Your cheek drops to his shoulder as you tiredly close your eyes. The raw passion that exists between you is undeniable, but it can't erase the reality of your circumstances.

Date Published: 6/28/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #one piece shanks #shanks #one piece #opla shanks

29 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 4 months

Note

so happy you're rested again to do requests! how have you been? ^^ <3

can i request some mgs4 raiden fluff? he's trying to learn to cook and do househusband duties because his gf/wife usually comes home late and has no energy to make dinner after tinkering away in a lab all day for work

Oh absolutely, enjoy!

Learning to be a househusband (MGS4!Raiden x Wife!Reader fluff)

Wearing a bright pink, frilly apron that he'd stolen from your closet, Raiden rocketed into the kitchen, determination set into his half human, half metal features. He had decided a while ago that today, he would make dinner for you, his hardworking wife, since you came home very late nearly every day and deserved a hot meal. Since Raiden was currently off duty and free to laze about the house as long as he wanted, he figured making dinner (in this case, spaghetti and meatballs) for you was the least he could do.

After studying the recipe sheet he'd printed out, Raiden set to work, first gathering his materials, then filling a pot with water. He didn't know how much water to put into the pot, since the recipe didn't specify, so he filled the entire pot to the brim. He reasoned that since water evaporates when heated, it made sense to fill the pot with as much water as possible. Once he set that on the stove, Raiden got to work making the sauce. This part was easy since the recipe gave him very clear instructions.

Very soon, the water began to boil. To Raiden's complete and utter surprise, the pot overflowed, water bubbling up and out, drenching the stove. Raiden quickly grabbed the pot handles and dumped some of the water into the sink before hastily returning the pot to the stove. All seemed to be well now, so Raiden figured it was time to add the salt, which he did, a whole cup of it.

Next came the pasta, Raiden reasoned. In his gusto, he didn't read the package he grabbed and ended up dumping a whole pound of fettuccine into the pot. That's fine, he thought. Fettuccine works just as well as spaghetti--besides, his meatballs were gonna be so good, you probably wouldn't even notice.

The meatballs turned out better than he thought. Once again, the recipe was very explicit in its instructions, leaving little room for error. Even though there was a huge mess of raw meat and spices all over the counter and cutting board, the meatballs themselves cooked up perfectly. Raiden was extremely proud of himself for managing this alone, so much so that he forgot the pasta was still on the stove.

Had he not remembered in that exact moment, the pasta would have disintegrated into mush. Thankfully the cyborg managed to drain the soggy pasta before it got any softer, much to his relief. After rooting around in the fridge for a jar of pasta sauce, Raiden drenched the meatballs in the tomato-y goodness and heaved a grateful, content sigh. Almost as if on cue, Raiden heard the rumble of your car engine as you neared home.

Giddy with glee, Raiden raced to the door to welcome you in, eager for you to try the food he made all by himself.

"Oh, hey Raiden," You said, grinning. "You look...umm..." You looked him up and down, settling on his clearly stolen apron. "Interesting." You finished, lamely.

"I've made dinner." Raiden announced, a slight crack of happiness in his voice. "Come eat." Smiling, you set down your bag(s) and followed your husband into the kitchen, where he was already plating the fettuccine--which had begun to stick together because he'd forgotten to add oil after draining it. The pasta was now mostly a clumpy lump that needed to be cut with a knife in order to be plated. Raiden's nails tactical claws made it very difficult for him to hold the knife properly, so he gave up and used his own sword to slice the pasta.

It took 30 whole minutes, but he finally managed to wrestle the glued together noodles into a bowl, ladle some meatballs and sauce over it, and even grate a few shavings of parmesan cheese on top.

"Enjoy," He said, with a perfectly straight face.

"Thanks for this," You replied, still with a bright smile.

It wasn't a 5-star gourmet meal and the pasta was too salty and gummier than candy, but Raiden put time and effort into making this dish for you because he loved you, and you loved him for that. It'd take some time, but you were sure witjn diligent learning and proper training, Raiden could become a capable househusband.

30 notes · View notes

moveslikekeithrichards · 2 years

Text

finally cleaned out one of our cabinets in the classroom today. it was filled with 20 years of crap from the last 2 teachers (kindergarten, if it makes a difference). found, among other things:

seriously like 30 things of jimmies, presumably from past ice cream parties

spices??? glass salt & pepper grinders, a giant size thing of cinnamon, cayenne pepper of all things. the date on the pepper said 2009

so much fish food. rip to all the attempted class pets of years past

fucking giant cut glass punch bowl

an ice bucket, presumably to accompany the punch bowl

a crusty little set of drawers with various first aid materials including cleaning wipeys that expired in 2011 and rusty nail clippers

giant pot like a pot that you make a months worth of soup in a pot that surely could only be used on an entire stove

a whole bottle of vegetable oil??? like literally what the fuck were we cooking what did i miss

a shit ton of baggies, plastic wrap, foil, wax paper, etc but one thing of wax paper in particular, according to my brief package design research, was from the literal 1960s

unopened easter egg stamping kit from 1996. its as old as me

not in this particular cabinet but during cleaning i found a folder of professional development handouts from 2004

#tiddytaco

289 notes · View notes

ereardon · 2 years

Text

My Girl [Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3.7K

Warning: Age gap, cursing

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

You turned to see the most stunningly attractive man you’d ever seen in real life standing not four feet away holding two boxed cake mixes, one in each hand, with a confused frown etched across his tanned face. “Yes?” you answered, stepping closer, thankful you had chosen to wear a dress to the store instead of your usual yoga pants and dirty sweatshirt.

He held out the boxes. “Which of these would you rather eat?”

You turned your gaze to the boxes. One was a banana cake mix from Dolly Parton’s line with Duncan Hines. The other was a holiday spice cake mix. You looked up at him and squinted. It was early September. “Um.”

He read the hesitation in your voice and cracked a smile. “You can say neither.”

“Oh, thank God,” you breathed out, which elicited a laugh from him. Leaning over, you grabbed the boxes from his hands and pressed them back on the shelves, lifting up a funfetti mix and handing it to him. “Alright, it’s basic, but a crowd favorite. Not sure who you’re making the cake for, but anyone who doesn’t like funfetti is a psychopath so this should cover all your bases.”

He looked at the box before placing it carefully in his grocery cart. You spotted a few candles, some ice cream, eggs, milk. All of the makings of a birthday cake. “Thank you,” he said, leaning against the cart. He had piercing green eyes that were locked on yours, and a casual stance in his joggers and t-shirt that exuded a cocky kind of confidence you found only made its way to men in their thirties. You two were the only ones in the baking aisle. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, not exactly prime grocery shopping time.

“No problem,” you said, shifting away, back toward your cart. “Hope you enjoy the cake.”

There was a pause in the air before his voice pulled you back in. “Can I get your opinion on frosting, too? Since you’re such an expert, and I’m obviously in need.”

You giggled, and stepped back closer, standing directly in front of the canned frosting, eyeing them carefully. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could almost feel his breath on your shoulder, and it made your skin tingle without him even touching you. If it had been any other random guy, you would have been disgusted by his proximity. But he was different. Light stubble, soft blonde hair that was slightly longer on top, a pair of aviator shades hooked in the front of his plain shirt. He looked like a walking magazine ad and you were shocked he was giving you the time of day.

“I think,” you murmured, reaching forward and grabbing a container, “I would go with chocolate. A little unconventional, if you want to be traditional you would do vanilla. But I’m a chocolate girl.”

Turning around, you went to hand the frosting to him but his hand was already on your wrist, sliding down your fingers slowly to take the canister away from you. You looked up to see him smiling at you. It was almost sinful how good he looked so early in the morning. Quickly, your eyes flickered down. No wedding band. “Thank you,” he said softly, and if anyone had turned down the aisle they would see a thirty-something blond man looming mere inches from a small blonde in a maxi dress, eyes locked in a silent but heated conversation.

“I’m Natalie,” you whispered.

He pulled back after a moment. “Jake.”

Your heart was doing sprints in your chest. You watched as he dropped the chocolate frosting into his cart before scratching at his neck awkwardly.

“I know this probably sounds weird but, would you want to get a coffee sometime?” he asked and you saw that cocky demeanor falter for a moment as his eyes searched your face for an initial reaction. “Unless you’re involved?” Jake trailed off, waiting for your response.

You shook your head and watched his smile begin to cave in, realizing that the head motion had made it seem like you were in a relationship which you definitely were not. “No, sorry!” you rushed, holding up your hands in a panic. “I mean, yes, I’d love to get coffee with you and no, I’m not involved with anyone.” It came out in a flustered jumble and you wanted to smash your head into the bags of powdered sugar to your right to avoid Jake’s smirk.

Jake laughed. It was unrestrained, genuine. It made you feel like you could trust him. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

You groaned and he laughed again, holding out his unlocked phone.

“Here,” Jake said. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”

Call. It was such a small thing, and it only went to reiterate that your standards had taken on a subterranean level low over the last few years. But twenty-six-year-old guys didn’t call. They texted, and when they did it was at eleven o’clock at night, three drinks deep in a shitty Irish pub. You were tired of dating boys your age.

Jake was obviously not a boy. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in your contact, and when you handed it back to him he raised an eyebrow. “Natalie West.”

You nodded.

His eyes twinkled. “I’ll call you.”

You smiled, tossing him one last look over your shoulder before sauntering back to your cart. “Enjoy the cake!”

Exiting the store, you slipped on a pair of sunglasses and unloaded your groceries into the car. Once you had settled in the driver’s seat, you felt your phone buzz and you pulled it out, a number with a strange area code lighting up the screen.

“Hello?” you said into the phone, hesitant of another telemarketing scheme but concerned that it could be a client so you answered anyway.

“Natalie West,” Jake drawled and your mouth dropped open. You hadn’t expected him to call so soon, or at all. “When can I take you for that coffee?”

You leaned back against the seat. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

***

It was fifteen minutes after four. He was late. You hadn’t expected that from him. The two of you had only interacted for five or so minutes at the grocery store, but he had all of the makings of a gentleman. The slight Southern twang, the fancy watch and casual demeanor. The birthday cake materials for God’s sake. When was the last time Sam had even considered making a birthday cake from scratch? Probably never, unless it was for his mother. You shuddered at the thought.

Just as you were about to pull out your phone and text him, the door swung open and you saw Jake look around, eyes wide. He spotted you in the corner and rushed over, wearing a pair of chino shorts and a short sleeve button down that showed off his tanned, muscular arms. There was a frazzled air that clung to him, a significant contrast to the calm demeanor he had embodied at the grocery store.

“Natalie,” he said, kissing your cheek as you stood to greet him and you felt the buzz of his stubble on your skin as he pulled away. “I am so sorry, honestly. I’m usually never late. I’m annoyingly on time most days. This is an anomaly, I promise.”

You sat down, brushing your fingers over your high waisted shorts and smiled. “It’s alright. Strike one, but you have two left. Not to give you any ideas.”

He flashed an electric grin, spotted the nearly empty iced coffee in front of you. “Fuck, let me buy your second coffee, please?” There was a bit of pleading in his eyes. For the first time you noticed small crows feet near the edges of his eyes when he smiled, or in this case grimaced. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

You reached over and placed a small hand on his, your pink nails and fingertips pressing down reassuringly against his taunt skin. Jake looked down at your hand and then back up at you, noticeably calmer. “Jake, it’s fine. Seriously. Take a breath.”

He sunk back into the chair and sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You smiled, retracting your hand, but not before Jake grabbed it with his fingers, giving you a squeeze. It was a familiar gesture, like you had known each other for years. “Iced oat latte, if you’re going up.”

Jake grinned and stood, and you admired him as he walked toward the counter in his tight shorts.

“So, why were you late?” you asked when he returned to the table, coffees in hand. You silently noted that he drank black iced coffee. It felt like a douchebag choice, like an MBA candidate who wanted to lecture you on the hazards of the Fed’s rate hike rollout plans, but for him it somehow worked.

There was a small, almost unnoticeable moment when Jake froze. And then it was gone. “Just, uh, scheduling issues on my end,” he said after a split second. “Sorry again.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I only made it on time because I have this obsessive need to scope out parking for places I’ve never been before, so I left ten minutes earlier than I needed to.”

He chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “So, Natalie, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.” It still felt weird to say.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Wow, really?”

“You look surprised.”

“You just look, well, young, I guess.” For a second, you worried that perhaps your age was the draw for him. That all he wanted was a good hot fuck, twenty minutes of pleasure, before he tossed you out on your ass still wearing a state school pledge week t-shirt that you had yet to retire.

“I’m twenty-six.”

“God,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I was a fucking mess at twenty-six.”

“And how long ago was that?” you asked, leaning over the small marble table. “Twenty years ago? Or just fifteen?”

His green eyes lit up. “You’re quippy. I like that.”

You shrugged. “But seriously, how old are you grandpa?”

He grimaced again and you laughed. “I’m thirty-five.”

Almost a decade older than you. You took a sip of your coffee to avoid saying anything too snippy in response. What did a thirty-five-year-old possibly want with you except sex? And why did that not bother you so much? Your eyes roamed over the canvas that was his body. He looked straight out of a Roman art history textbook about sculpture.

“What kind of law?”

“The boring kind,” you replied softly. “Finance. I work in-house for a fund manager.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything you’ve said in the last two minutes has impressed me.”

You let out a laugh and watched his eyes light up. Despite the age difference, he was easy to get along with. “Alright, now tell me some stuff about you. I feel like this is a one-sided job interview and I’m being grilled.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Um, I’m from Texas. I’ve lived here for about six years now. I’m stationed out at Top Gun.”

You nodded. You’d lived in San Diego long enough to know the Navy’s base on North Island, but until yesterday you had yet to meet anyone who actually worked there. “So what do you do?” you asked. “Sorry, I know literally nothing about the Navy.”

Jake’s lips quirked up on one side. “I’m an aviator. A jet pilot. But mostly now I’m just an instructor.”

A pilot. God, that explained the physique, the effortless charm that oozed out of his pores. It also explained why he was at the grocery store buying cake mix at eight in the morning. He probably had just as terrible of a work schedule as you did.

“Does that buy me cool points?” he asked breezily and you smiled.

“Oh, definitely.”

There was a relaxed charm about him. Two hours passed and you almost forgot that before he had walked through the door you had essentially been strangers. Being with Jake felt easier than you had expected.

He looked down at his watch, eyes growing wide. “Shit, Natalie, I’m so sorry but I have to run.”

You stood up and he placed a large, warm hand on your back, guiding you outside in front of him, opening the door and ushering you through. The temperature had dipped a few degrees since you had arrived, but it was still balmy outside.

The door snapped shut and you turned to Jake. He gave you a soft smile that pulled on the corner of his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.

The two of you stood there outside the coffee shop on the sidewalk for what felt like ages. A palpable tension had settled in the space between your bodies. You kept looking to Jake to make a move, say something, but he looked like he was at a loss for words.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, pressing one hand to his upper arm where his shirt sleeve ended. You tilted your head back, standing on tiptoes to graze your lips softly against his. His eyes flashed open in surprise, hand reaching out and only finding air as you pulled back just as quickly as you had leaned forward.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to go for it, so I thought I would,” you said softly and Jake pushed one hand into his shorts pocket.

“I’m not very good at this,” he admitted after a moment, hanging his head. The suave persona had washed away and the man standing in front of you looked almost timid.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Dating,” he replied instantly. “It’s been a while.”

You nodded. You knew a divorced man when you saw one. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing just fine.”

He smiled, reaching out one hand and brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I really do have to go,” he murmured. “But I’d like to see you again. If I haven’t completely turned you off by not even knowing that I should kiss you at the end of a date.”

You let out a small giggle. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Goodbye, Natalie West,” he murmured, stepping closer and whispering it into your ear. You shivered as he pulled away, his fingertips brushing your waist, before he stepped out into the road, looking both ways and jogging over to a silver Range Rover parked on the other side of the street. “I’ll call you!”

You shook your head, laughing. “You better!”

***

Jake did, in fact, call. He called every night for two weeks. You spent at least an hour every night talking to him on the phone. Usually you had your Airpods in, folding laundry or doing the dishes, all of the chores that you never got around to during the day when it was purely paperwork and meetings and doing favors for partners.

Jake called at ten o’clock on the dot every night, Monday through Sunday. You learned that he had a dog named Coconut, an old Border Collie, and that he grew up with three sisters on a ranch outside Austin and that he had almost died in a skydiving accident where his parachute very nearly refused to open. You told him about how you had almost passed out waiting to see the results of the bar exam, and how when you were seven you rolled out of bed in your sleep and hit your head on the nightstand, which left you with a small scar down your right cheek.

He was unlike the other guys you had dated. There were a handful of online or app dates, each just as bad, if not worse, than the next. One had asked you on a second date and you almost accepted, before you found his mugshot online for drunk and disorderly conduct. Another had been a resident physician who was probably the most boring man you had ever met, and who loved to talk about himself more than Kanye.

And then there was Sam, your most recent ex. You had met in your second year of law school while on the law review together. It was good, at first. Never great. When school ended, he moved to San Francisco and you stayed in San Diego. Less than four months after he moved, you found out he was sleeping with another associate at his firm.

Jake was a breath of fresh air. He had none of the childish antics that had dominated the personalities of Sam and the other guys you had dated. If he made a promise, he stuck to it.

You saw each other three more times over the course of the two weeks. Another coffee and two dinners. He had stepped forward and kissed you after the coffee date, leaning back and cupping your face in one of his large hands.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I’m still getting used to this whole dating thing.”

“You’re getting better,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.

After the first dinner, Jake drove you home, pressed you up against the archway of your front door, one hand sliding around the waist of your jeans and up underneath your shirt against your bare back. You had moaned into his lips, felt him harden in his trousers where he was pressed against you. Finally, he pulled back. “Goodnight, Natalie,” he whispered and you pouted.

“Can’t you come in?” you begged.

He shook his head. “I wish, baby. But I have to get home.”

You nodded and he watched from the walkway as you stepped inside, closing and locking the door.

After the second date, you sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Jake’s hand hot on your bare thigh underneath the short hem of your dress. “Jake?” you whispered into his mouth.

“Yeah baby?”

“Where are you always rushing off to?” you asked softly.

He pulled back and you tried to prepare yourself mentally for the worst outcome. That he was married. Or that he lived at home with his mother in a basement, although realistically you knew that his mother still lived back in Texas.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence, sitting back in the seat and fiddling with the strap of your Prada shoulder bag. “I’m prying.”

Jake shook his head. “No, not at all. You deserve to know.”

You sucked in a breath. He looked pensive.

“I have a daughter. Ellie. She’s four.”

“Oh.” You let out the breath. That you hadn’t expected.

Jake’s face glowed softly under the moonlight that slid in at an angle across the windshield from where you were parked outside your townhouse. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or when would be a good time. But I have a daughter. That’s why I have to keep such a strict schedule. She’s at day care during the day, and then a nanny picks her up when I can’t get off of work. She goes to sleep around eight, which is why whenever I call, it's after that.”

Everything clicked into place. You snuck a peak behind you to the second row of seats and saw a small doll lying on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat. How had you missed that?

“Natalie?” Jake asked softly. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking please?”

“I’m just surprised I guess.”

He frowned. “Is this a deal breaker for you?”

“No!” you rushed out and he smiled lightly. “It’s just, I’ve never dated someone with a kid before.”

Jake smiled. “She’s easy, I promise. But I know it’s not for everyone, so I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you want to stop seeing each other, I completely understand.”

You shifted forward, taking Jake’s head into your hands and pressing your lips to his softly. He was by far the best kisser you had ever known. Soft, warm lips carefully moving against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth gently.

Finally, you pulled away.

“I really don’t want to stop seeing you,” you murmured.

“Good,” Jake said, opening his door and stepping out, walking around the truck and opening the passenger door, offering you his hand. You walked hand-in-hand to the front door, and as you opened your bag to pull out your keys, Jake’s voice stopped you short. “What are you doing on Thursday night?”

You leaned against the door. “Depends on what you’re about to ask.”

He grinned. “I’d like to have you over.”

“To your house?”

He nodded. “It’s Ellie’s birthday on Thursday. I’d love for you to meet her.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you sure? Isn’t that like a big deal?”

Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. “I’m positive. I want you to meet her, and she’ll never be as happy as she is on her birthday.”

Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. Jake started to practically purr in your ear. “I’ll be there.”

He leaned down, locking you in a kiss, slotting his knee between your legs and you audibly moaned against his mouth as your core ground down against him. The two of you had yet to do anything more than make out, but your body was screaming for him from every pore.

When Jake pulled away, you swore you saw a hint of hesitation in his eyes. But then you blinked and it was gone.

He squeezed your hand. “So, Thursday?”

You nodded, putting the key in the door and turning the lock. Once you were inside, you leaned out through the door frame. “Wait, Jake!”

He stopped and turned on the path back to his truck. “Yeah baby?”

“What the hell kind of gift do I buy for a four-year-old?”

A/N: This is the first time I'm working on two series fics simultaneously, so will be slower to update than previous series! Also this is a storyline that's just close to my heart, as I was raised by a single dad for most of my life so Dad Jake really gets me in the feels!

Tag list: @xoxabs88xox @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @topguncultleader @double-j @amortentiadrops

#jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x oc #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake x oc

359 notes · View notes

galaxyedging · 10 months

Text

Empty Nester Husband x wife reader.

Not a RPF, just a character inspired by this look.

Warnings: self doubt. Dry spell. Unprotected P in V sex.

Summary: Your husband tries to breathe some life back into your sex life.

That Fur Coat

“Are you sure about this?” He tucked the tight white vest back into his jeans from where it had popped out during his last pose.

“Yes! You look great! Your wife will love it.” Mandy the very upbeat, and very young, photographer reassured him.

With a slight grumble under his breath, he tugged the heavy fur coat back on to his broad shoulders, ignoring the nagging ache in the base of his spine. The rest of the photo shoot went smoothly. Not that he agreed with any of Mandy's outfit choices. She assured him he looked handsome, sexy even. All he saw was an ageing guy trying to look cool.

A week later when the photo book arrived, he was glad his wife was out. Taking the parcel from the delivery guy, thanking him and closing the door, he ran upstairs and into their bedroom. He sat staring at the innocently wrapped parcel like he had the school backpack that held the first nudie mag that his friend snuck out of his father's stash. His teeth troubled his plump bottom lip. He wondered what madness had overtaken him to think this was a good idea. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he did hear his wife enter the room.

If you were honest and kind to yourself, the years hadn't been too bad on your figure. You could see all the parts your husband loved or he did love. That was a grey area at the moment. There was no doubt in your heart that he loved you. He was such an honest and affectionate man. His face held so much expression, and there was no way for him to hide his feelings for you. In turn, you still love him as much as you did when you married young and had your children. Both of whom had now left for college. Leaving you and your husband in a big empty house with all the alone time you could want. Maybe that's how this dry spell started. Sneaking around to have sex when the kids were around was fun. Now that you have ample opportunity, it feels like an expectation. Now that you had time and space, things should be hotting up, right? Rolling your eyes at your reflection, you held up the silk Teddy to your body. You felt like a walking cliche. The middle-aged housewife trying to spice things up. No, that wasn't a cliche. Marriage takes work. All aspects of it. If dropping fifty bucks on some naughty lingerie to prance around in did the job, so be it. Your husband's car was still in the drive when you got home. The house was quiet when you opened the door. Assuming he was busy in his new home office, you crept upstairs to put away your purchases.

“I wasn't expecting you home.” He gripped the package on his lap as he stood quickly.

“I only wanted a couple of things.” You shrug trying to casually place your bags on your dresser.

“I see.” The nerves in his voice worried you.

“Are you alright? You sound upset.” You step toward him as he sunk onto the bed.

Twenty something years together and he still haven't learned to hide things from you.

The lines around his eyes deepened as he laughed. “Yeah. I just…I got you a present. It's stupid. I just should have talked to you.”

“About what?” Your hand thread into his without you even realising.

“Our little dry spell.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

It was your turn to laugh. “You mean the thing I spent over two hundred dollars on buying scraps of material that barely constitute underwear?”

“Two hundred? Why? You know seeing you in my old t-shirts does it for me just fine.”

“It hasn't lately.”

“I know. That's on me. I've been in my own head. Our sex life has always been great even when we had to put cartoons on for the kids and fuck in the utility room. It's just been so long since we could just be us. I guess I put too much pressure on it.”

“That pretty much sums it up. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I wished I'd known that before I did this.” Tearing open the package he handed you a black book with ‘For My Darling Wife’ etched in gold on the front cover.

“What's this?” You smiled.

With an exaggerated huff he dropped his face into his hands. “Just…look.”

The pages were filled with glossy photographs of your husband in all sorts of sexy outfits. You'd always thought he was sexy but the persona he took on in the photographs took your breath away. He reminded you of the hot tempered teen your husband once was. The dark look on his face made it look like he was ready to devour you.

“Wow. These are…”

“Stupid. I know.”

“...hot.”

“What? You like them?”

“Why wouldn't I? You look sexy, Baby.”

A bashful smirk played on his lips. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Maybe you could throw on a white vest and jeans while I slip into my overpriced scraps?”

In the end it did matter what you wore. You both ended up naked. The two of you curled up together as he gently thrust into you from behind. Barely half his cock could press inside you in that position. It was still enough. He took his time stretching you around his girth, his finger giving your clit long drawn out strokes. There was no rush, no worry of interruptions. Just the two of you stoking each other's bliss. When he felt you getting closer, his pace quickened.

Pulling his hair you teased in his ear. “Are you going to fuck me like a fur coat wearing rockstar?”

“It depends. Are you going to take it like a skimpy lingerie wearing slut?” Any self conscious concerns he had about his body melt away as he rolled you on your front and watched his cock disappear inside you. He might be older, not old, but it didn't mean he couldn't get the job done. The screams of his name as he drove his cock home proved that. A thought occurred to him that hadn't in years, he pulled out and jerked his load all over your ass. “Fuck. Now that is worthy of a picture.”

A playful swot to your ass made you giggle until the cum on the swell of your ass dripped down between your cheeks caused you to hiss.

“Cold?” He flopped down next to you absently drawing shapes on your bare back.

“Hmmm. Worth it.” You bite your lip at him.

Cupping your face, he teases your lip out with his thumb only to suck it in between his own teeth. A gentle bite is soon soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

“Let's never go too long without doing this again. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. At least I have something to keep me company if we do have another dry spell.” You look past him to the book on the side table. “I can't believe you did that for me.”

“You know I'd do anything for you.” Rolling on his back he pulled you onto his chest. The light sheen on sweat making you stick to him didn't bother you. It was nice to revel in him again. The touch of his smooth skin. His scent.

“Anything?” He hums as you kiss his chest. “Do you think you can get a hold of that fur coat?”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #more esquire photo shoot horniness

49 notes · View notes

ereardonlibrary · 2 years

Text

My Girl [Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3.7K

Warning: Age gap, cursing

Also see on my original page here

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

He held out the boxes. “Which of these would you rather eat?”

He read the hesitation in your voice and cracked a smile. “You can say neither.”

“No problem,” you said, shifting away, back toward your cart. “Hope you enjoy the cake.”

There was a pause in the air before his voice pulled you back in. “Can I get your opinion on frosting, too? Since you’re such an expert, and I’m obviously in need.”

“I’m Natalie,” you whispered.

He pulled back after a moment. “Jake.”

Your heart was doing sprints in your chest. You watched as he dropped the chocolate frosting into his cart before scratching at his neck awkwardly.

Jake laughed. It was unrestrained, genuine. It made you feel like you could trust him. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

You groaned and he laughed again, holding out his unlocked phone.

“Here,” Jake said. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”

Jake was obviously not a boy. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in your contact, and when you handed it back to him he raised an eyebrow. “Natalie West.”

You nodded.

His eyes twinkled. “I’ll call you.”

You smiled, tossing him one last look over your shoulder before sauntering back to your cart. “Enjoy the cake!”

“Hello?” you said into the phone, hesitant of another telemarketing scheme but concerned that it could be a client so you answered anyway.

“Natalie West,” Jake drawled and your mouth dropped open. You hadn’t expected him to call so soon, or at all. “When can I take you for that coffee?”

You leaned back against the seat. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

***

You sat down, brushing your fingers over your high waisted shorts and smiled. “It’s alright. Strike one, but you have two left. Not to give you any ideas.”

He sunk back into the chair and sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you. I needed that.”

Jake grinned and stood, and you admired him as he walked toward the counter in his tight shorts.

There was a small, almost unnoticeable moment when Jake froze. And then it was gone. “Just, uh, scheduling issues on my end,” he said after a split second. “Sorry again.”

He chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “So, Natalie, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.” It still felt weird to say.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Wow, really?”

“You look surprised.”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“God,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I was a fucking mess at twenty-six.”

“And how long ago was that?” you asked, leaning over the small marble table. “Twenty years ago? Or just fifteen?”

His green eyes lit up. “You’re quippy. I like that.”

You shrugged. “But seriously, how old are you grandpa?”

He grimaced again and you laughed. “I’m thirty-five.”

“What kind of law?”

“The boring kind,” you replied softly. “Finance. I work in-house for a fund manager.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything you’ve said in the last two minutes has impressed me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Um, I’m from Texas. I’ve lived here for about six years now. I’m stationed out at Top Gun.”

Jake’s lips quirked up on one side. “I’m an aviator. A jet pilot. But mostly now I’m just an instructor.”

“Does that buy me cool points?” he asked breezily and you smiled.

“Oh, definitely.”

He looked down at his watch, eyes growing wide. “Shit, Natalie, I’m so sorry but I have to run.”

The door snapped shut and you turned to Jake. He gave you a soft smile that pulled on the corner of his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to go for it, so I thought I would,” you said softly and Jake pushed one hand into his shorts pocket.

“I’m not very good at this,” he admitted after a moment, hanging his head. The suave persona had washed away and the man standing in front of you looked almost timid.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Dating,” he replied instantly. “It’s been a while.”

You nodded. You knew a divorced man when you saw one. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing just fine.”

You let out a small giggle. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You better!”

***

Jake was a breath of fresh air. He had none of the childish antics that had dominated the personalities of Sam and the other guys you had dated. If he made a promise, he stuck to it.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I’m still getting used to this whole dating thing.”

“You’re getting better,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.

“Can’t you come in?” you begged.

He shook his head. “I wish, baby. But I have to get home.”

You nodded and he watched from the walkway as you stepped inside, closing and locking the door.

After the second date, you sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Jake’s hand hot on your bare thigh underneath the short hem of your dress. “Jake?” you whispered into his mouth.

“Yeah baby?”

“Where are you always rushing off to?” you asked softly.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence, sitting back in the seat and fiddling with the strap of your Prada shoulder bag. “I’m prying.”

Jake shook his head. “No, not at all. You deserve to know.”

You sucked in a breath. He looked pensive.

“I have a daughter. Ellie. She’s four.”

“Oh.” You let out the breath. That you hadn’t expected.

Everything clicked into place. You snuck a peak behind you to the second row of seats and saw a small doll lying on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat. How had you missed that?

“Natalie?” Jake asked softly. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking please?”

“I’m just surprised I guess.”

He frowned. “Is this a deal breaker for you?”

“No!” you rushed out and he smiled lightly. “It’s just, I’ve never dated someone with a kid before.”

Jake smiled. “She’s easy, I promise. But I know it’s not for everyone, so I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you want to stop seeing each other, I completely understand.”

Finally, you pulled away.

“I really don’t want to stop seeing you,” you murmured.

You leaned against the door. “Depends on what you’re about to ask.”

He grinned. “I’d like to have you over.”

“To your house?”

He nodded. “It’s Ellie’s birthday on Thursday. I’d love for you to meet her.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you sure? Isn’t that like a big deal?”

Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. “I’m positive. I want you to meet her, and she’ll never be as happy as she is on her birthday.”

Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. Jake started to practically purr in your ear. “I’ll be there.”

When Jake pulled away, you swore you saw a hint of hesitation in his eyes. But then you blinked and it was gone.

He squeezed your hand. “So, Thursday?”

You nodded, putting the key in the door and turning the lock. Once you were inside, you leaned out through the door frame. “Wait, Jake!”

He stopped and turned on the path back to his truck. “Yeah baby?”

“What the hell kind of gift do I buy for a four-year-old?”

#jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun #hangman x oc #hangman fluff

270 notes · View notes

sanmatipackaging · 1 year

Text

BOPP is Biaxially Oriented Polypropylene. It is a packaging material that is durable, woven, and made of organic materials. These bags are made of superior-quality packaging materials. Therefore, they are long-lasting & in demand these days. BOPP bags have multiple layers that keep them safe during transportation. Companies use BOPP bags to ship heavy products. Are you looking for a seller of BOPP bags? Contact Sanmati Packaging, a renowned manufacturer of BOPP bags.

Read More - https://sanmatipackaging.blogspot.com/2023/07/what-are-bopp-bags-and-why-do-you-need.html

#dry fruit packaging in india #carry bags #confectionery packaging #packaging for dry fruits #fmcg products packaging in india #fmcg product packaging #garments packaging services in india #dry fruits packaging #spice packaging material

0 notes

dailyanarchistposts · 1 month

Text

Feeding Soul, Freeing Soil

“...all of us will come back again to hoe in the ground... Or hand-adze a beam, or skin a pole, or scrape a hive — we’re never going to get away from that We’ve been living a dream that we’re going to get away from that. Put that out of our minds... That work is always going to be there.” — Gary Snyder, in The Real Work: Interviews and Talks, 1964–1979

In the pre-industrial world, food was the basis of human life. If not deserving of outright ceremonial worship, then certainty food was not something just taken for granted. Sure, this was probably out of pure necessity of survival, and due to technologies in our culture we have more of a margin of error. But I have to wonder when I consider the mindlessness with which so many of us purchase, prepare, consume, and dispose of food, if the “privileges” of convenience and effortlessness are really worth the consequences. On psychological and spiritual levels, the disconnect between our daily lives and the source of our very existence — the raw material that fuels our bodies and minds — has an effect that is both profoundly symbolic, and frighteningly real.

Most of us would agree that food is a catalyst for family and community bonds. Without it, the very fabric of our cultures comes unraveled And we can see that happening today. We have no time to cook, and even less time to eat. Our culture’s fixation on efficiency and timesaving makes it impossible for us to appreciate what goes into producing it. In our ignorance, we demand produce that is not seasonal or bioregional, the transportation of which fills 4 million trucks a year, which use $5.5 billion worth of fuel, and spew 4 million tons of pollutants into the air. The average distance food travels from farm to fork is 1300 miles! (Rodale, 1981) We demand certain tastes at a snap of the fingers, even if it means transporting a spice thousands of miles, or using large amounts of oils pressed from genetically engineered seeds half a world away. We demand to be able to cook rice in ten minutes, which requires industrial processing that removes all the nutrients from the grain. Most meat-eaters in modern society don’t ever see the animal until it ends up packaged and in the grocery store. All these “conveniences” reinforce a dangerous sense of detachment and alienation.

One of the most revealing metaphors relating to modern society’s culinary dysfunction is in our dependence on processed foods. People would be more whole eating whole foods, not fragmented and refined commodities with isolated nutrients added back in. Food in its natural state evolved alongside human beings, and when obtained directly, it provides us with all we need. Food processing is an unnecessary obstacle to nutrition that benefits the long line of manufacturers, packagers and advertizers who take 90% of every food dollar, mediating our physical sustenance.

Lack of vitality is a major component of malnutrition from modern food sources. Grown in depleted soils with chemical fertilizers to mimic fertility, the plants become dependent on the chemicals to survive. Similarly, when we eat a lifetime of nutrient- depleted food our bodies become dependent on pharmaceuticals. Just like in the forest, agricultural soil health can be seen as an indicator of the health of the entire system, of which we are a part. If the soil is depleted of nutrients, so is the food that grows in it, and so are those who eat it.

8 notes · View notes

adititarachand · 5 months

Text

Green Living Made Easy: Eco Shopping Tips

Live a Greener Life: Sustainable Shopping and Living Tips with Brandfinity

Brandfinity, a leading branding and marketing agency in India, is committed to promoting eco-conscious practices. In line with this mission, we present these valuable tips to help you make sustainable choices in your everyday shopping and living:

Embrace Sustainable Materials for Clothing and Home Goods:

Opt for eco-friendly options: Look for clothing and home goods made from organic cotton, hemp, or bamboo. These materials often require less water and fewer chemicals compared to conventional options.

Reduce waste, support circularity: Choose products made from recycled or upcycled materials. This not only minimizes waste but also promotes a circular economy where resources are reused.

Support Local and Organic Produce:

Reduce your carbon footprint: Opt for locally grown fruits and vegetables. This not only supports local farmers but also reduces the environmental impact of transportation.

Prioritize health and a healthy planet: Choose organic produce to avoid harmful pesticides and synthetic fertilizers that can negatively affect your health and the environment. Organic farming practices promote soil health, biodiversity, and water conservation.

Minimize Waste with Reusable Bags and Containers:

Ditch the plastic: Invest in reusable shopping bags made from durable materials like canvas or recycled materials. This eliminates the need for single-use plastic bags, significantly reducing waste.

Embrace reusables for bulk items: Utilize reusable containers when buying bulk items like grains, nuts, and spices. This eliminates the need for single-use packaging, further minimizing waste. Remember to wash and sanitize your reusable bags and containers regularly.

Champion Eco-Friendly Brands and Products:

Look for certifications: Support brands and products with certifications that showcase their environmental commitment, such as organic, fair trade, or cruelty-free labels. These certifications ensure adherence to specific standards and minimal harm to the environment and workers.

Sustainable practices matter: Choose brands that prioritize sustainability throughout their supply chain, from sourcing materials to manufacturing and packaging. By supporting these brands, you encourage more sustainable business practices with your purchasing power.

Embrace Sustainable Fashion with Second-Hand and Thrift Shopping:

Reduce demand, extend lifespans: Consider second-hand and thrift stores for unique and stylish clothing at affordable prices. This reduces the demand for new clothing production and gives pre-loved items a second chance.

Promote a circular fashion economy: By choosing second-hand fashion, you contribute to a circular economy by extending the lifespan of clothing and minimizing textile waste. Don't forget to donate or sell your own unwanted clothing to keep the cycle going!

Live a greener life, one sustainable choice at a time!

Partner with Brandfinity to craft an eco-conscious brand identity and marketing strategy that resonates with your sustainability goals. Visit us at https://brandfinity.ch/en/ to learn more.

#business #wix #logo design #ui ux design #cms development services #marketing #web developer #website #e commerce #education

3 notes · View notes

hellhoundslut · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 5: Collaring

There weren’t many days when Lucian and Mars had much time to themselves. With various meetings that Mars needed to attend, and whatever business that Lucian had to take care of, the two of them were often booked for days or weeks at a time. Fortunately for the both of them, that didn’t stop Mars from always looking for ways to spice things up.

They sat together in comfortable silence, Mars typing away on their computer while Lucian lounged in a calm high, listening to whatever audiobook that had currently caught his fancy. A notification from Mars’ phone pulls them away from their work and quickly slaps an excited smile on their face as they race over to the door. Lucian looks to them with a curious tilt of his head, pausing the chapter and sitting up straight. Mars returns to the couch with a package in their hands, sitting next to Lucian with a wide grin.

“What’s this?” Lucian asks quietly, leaning forward to sniff around at the box. Mars laughs softly, gently pushing Lucian’s face away before placing the box in his lap.

“It’s a present for you actually! And I don’t want to hear any of your ‘you didn’t need to get me anything’ bullshit, just open the box.” Mars quickly tacks on, stopping Lucian in his tracks before he could say exactly that. He rolls his eyes playfully, quickly gets to work opening the box. He pulled out a black satin bag, inside of which was a leather collar and chain leash set. The collar was a smooth black, with sparkling gold accents. Lucian’s eyes are wide as he stares down at the collar, his fingers gently sliding over the material with care. The two of them had talked about the collar and leash combo a few times, and occasionally used a cheap set while fucking, but this felt different. Maybe more real? More solidified. It made Lucian’s heart flutter a bit, to know that Mars wanted him enough to go to all the trouble.

Mars looks on, their foot tapping anxiously as they wait for Lucian to give some kind of answer. “Do you like it? I know that gold is your favorite color and I thought it looked good with the black. If you don’t like it, I can always send it back. Or if you don’t want this anymore. Damn! I should’ve checked with you first, I-”

Lucian cut them off with a kiss, wrapping his arms around the creature and pulling them into his lap. Mars absolutely melted, smiling wide against his lips until they finally pulled away. “Do you like it?” They ask again as they laugh, though they feel they already know the answer.

“I love it. I love you.” Lucian whispers as he presses light kisses along their throat, feeling the buzzing vibrations of a groan against his lips. Mars slides a hand into Lucian’s hair, their nails scratching along his scalp as they pull him away. “Not so fast puppy, we have to put it on you to make sure it fits.”

#kinktober 2023 #nsft writing #nb dom #transmasc sub #t4t nsft #monsterfucking nsft

3 notes · View notes

nickgerlich · 1 year

Text

Foreign Matter

It is no secret that my favorite grocery store is Trader Joe’s. Sure, Whole Foods comes in a close second, but TJ’s is just my vibe. I love the laid back atmosphere, free of pretense and full of happy, adventurous shopping. They’re keen to keep bringing in foods and spices that most other groceries would never touch.

Unfortunately, we will probably never have one here in Amarillo. While they continue to add new stores (there are currently 564 stores in 43 states), they have their standards, tending to open in educated, upper-middle-class neighborhoods. We just don’t have enough people here who fit that demo.

So, whenever I travel, I go prepared with a huge cooler and a stack of Trader Joe’s reusable shopping bags. If Dallas, Albuquerque, or Oklahoma City are on my return trip, then I stop for a major shopping expedition. Believe me, I am not the only one. Many TJ’s fans who live in places that will never have one are just like me, and TJ’s knows it. Why add too many stores when people are willing to go to this extreme just to patronize you?

Trader Joe’s has been around since 1967 in Pasadena California. It was purchased by Aldi Nord (“North”) in 1979. And if you recognize that name, you should. It’s just that the Aldi stores we see in the US (which admittedly have many similarities, but different price points and target market) are owned by Aldi Sud (“South”). Both are German companies, and were once one big company until a rift developed between the brothers who owned it. They split into two at that point, so at best we can say that TJ’s and Aldi are cousins.

Given my love affair with TJ’s, it should come as no surprise that I have been known to include them in essay exam questions (wink wink, nudge nudge), incorporating their very cool podcast and other materials. This is a company that does exceptionally little advertising, adamantly refuses to allow online shopping, and will never have self-check lanes. It’s all about the shopping experience, and for this marketing prof, a company that is rich with marketing lessons.

But all has not been well with TJ’s this summer, because they have suffered through five product recalls. And they are odd ones, ranging from items that “may contain” rocks, insects, and metal. Ouch. Once that kind of news hits the airwaves and social media, it can become a public relations nightmare.

Roughly 85% of TJ’s items are private-label goods, meaning they are manufactured and packaged under contract by a different company. TJ’s doesn’t make anything; they just authorize its manufacture and labeling. It’s a challenge to find other-branded items in the store outside of the beer and wine section. It is these external providers who are the ones with quality control issues.

And yet TJ’s bears the brunt of the messaging, as well as responsibility for controlling the flow of response. That’s no small task.

None of these recalls is going to keep me from shopping at Trader Joe’s, but they might deter others, especially those who may not be quite so loyal as I am. Let’s face it, recalls are a black eye, whether you are at fault or not. How you handle that recall will help define your future. It starts with pulling all of the items that “may contain” said foreign matter, and then allowing for no-questions-asked refunds.

That’s only the beginning though. How do you begin to assure shoppers that they will be safe shopping there? Remember, we’re talking about food, something we put in our mouths. And what we put in our mouths is sacred. I liken meal preparation and eating to a spiritual experience. That is perfectly consistent with the religious training I received as a youth, that our bodies are temples and to be respected as such. Now why would I want to risk ingesting rocks, insects, and metal?

Given that TJ’s only uses Pinterest and Instagram on social media, along with their podcast and printed newsletter called The Fearless Flyer, they do not have many channels of communication. It’s so much easier when you leverage all of the socials, because you can broadcast to millions with a few clicks and taps.

In fact, TJ’s presence on Insta is predominantly fan pages that get as much traction as the corporate page, with people reviewing new products, offering recipe advice, and the like. That’s all great in terms of free word-of-mouth, but Trader Joe’s never gets to take the microphone on those pages, only their own.

Lastly, TJ’s could consider finding new vendors for some of its private label products, especially if a track record of recalls were to be established. Even still, this is no small task, because extensive vetting must then be completed. Existing vendors were chosen after thorough product testing in the first place.

I’ll be watching, TJ’s. You’re not at risk of losing me, but you cannot ignore these matters. Five black eyes in a little more than a month is a bad look. Here’s to righting this ship and sailing boldly into the future.

Dr “I Want To Work At TJ’s After I Retire” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #Trader Joes #groceries #supermarkets #recalls

2 notes · View notes