Untitled , Kohlrabi - Jeremy Miranda , 2025.
American , b. 1980 -
Acrylic on panel , 20 x 24 in.

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Untitled , Kohlrabi - Jeremy Miranda , 2025.
American , b. 1980 -
Acrylic on panel , 20 x 24 in.

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Sticky Sweet Siren
Shane Walsh x Fem!Reader
Summary: Shane gets off shift, shows up hungry and grumpy, only to find you baking his favorite dessertâpeanut butter chocolate pie. You tease him for being bossy. He ruins your kitchen. And then he ruins your body in the sweetest, messiest way imaginable.
SUGAR, SPICE & SMUT MASTERLIST
It always started the same way.
Boots on the tile. Gun on the table. Shirt clinging to his back from the heat.
You didnât even look up. âRough shift?â
Shane grunted in response, peeling off his deputyâs jacket with a sigh, running a hand through sweat-damp curls. âTwo arrests, one cracked rib, and a meth-head who threw a toaster at me.â
You slid the bowl of chocolate filling closer to the edge of the counter. âSounds like a win.â
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyeing your apron. âYou makinâ that pie again?â
You lifted a spoon to your lips and licked it clean. âDepends. You gonna be nice?â
âBaby,â he muttered, stepping into the kitchen like a man possessed, âyou know Iâm not.â
Your smile was smug. He hated that.
âI told you it had to set in the fridge for a couple hours,â you teased, stirring the peanut butter mixture. âYou canât just come home and expectââ
âI didnât come home for pie.â
You turned, leaned on the counter, and looked at him with a little tilt to your head. âOh yeah?â
Shane was already crowding you. Chest to chest, hand slipping around your waist. âNah. I came home âcause this is the only goddamn place I can breathe. And âcause you make the best goddamn mess Iâve ever seen.â
You rolled your eyes. âCharming.â
âYou love it,â he muttered against your jaw.
âYour badge is digging into my hip.â
âYou say that like itâs a problem.â
His lips brushed your neck. His hands slid beneath the apron, thumbs hooking just inside the waistband of your shorts. You gasped as he tuggedâslow, rough, intentional.
âShaneââ
He pulled back enough to look at you. âWhat?â
âYouâre filthy.â
He smirked, crooked and proud. âYou knew that before you let me in the door.â
You reached for the bowl of melted chocolate on the counter. Dipped your finger in and tapped it against his collarbone.
He blinked. Looked down.
Then grinned.
âYou startinâ shit?â
âYou started it,â you murmured, now smearing a line down his neck.
Shane caught your wrist mid-move, eyes dark.
âHope youâre ready to finish it.â
He didnât give you time to answerâjust lifted you by the thighs and sat you on the kitchen counter like it was muscle memory. The bowl of peanut butter nearly tipped, but neither of you cared. Not when Shane was pushing your legs apart, not when his mouth was kissing its way up your thigh, tongue already catching that streak of chocolate you smeared too close to the edge.
âOh my godââ
âYouâre gonna say that a lot,â he growled.
He grabbed the spoon from the peanut butter bowl, scooped a generous amount, and smeared itâright across your chest, just above your bra.
You gasped.
âShane!â
âRelax,â he said, smirking. âIâm cleaninâ it up.â
And he did.
Slow, deliberate tongue strokes that made your head fall back against the cabinet. His hands never stopped movingâpushing your shirt up, thumbs circling over your ribs, groaning low in his throat like you were the only thing that ever really shut his brain off.
The peanut butter melted slightly from your skinâs heat, and Shaneâs mouth followed it, licking, sucking, taking his time.
âGod, you taste so fuckinâ good,â he muttered, licking between your breasts now. âSweet. Sticky. Messy. Just like I like it.â
You were already arching into him, the warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his stubbleânone of it careful.
He wasnât careful.
He was hungry.
And when he knelt down again, mouth returning to your thighs, he glanced up with that lazy, cocky look that always got him in trouble.
âWhat?â you asked breathlessly.
He pulled your shorts down. Kissed your inner thigh again. âI didnât come for dinner, baby.â
Then his tongue slid through your folds, slow and hot, and your hips jolted.
âShaneâfuckââ
He moaned into you, fingers digging into your thighs to keep you spread. His tongue worked in lazy, sinful strokes, licking every drop of you like he was addicted. One hand grabbed the chocolate again, smeared it against the top of your thigh, and licked it off with a low growl that vibrated.
Your voice cracked. âYouâre insane.â
âNo,â he mumbled, mouth against your pussy, âIâm starvinâ.â
Then he dove in harderâtongue flattening, licking up and down before circling your clit in tight, perfect patterns. You cried out, back arching, hands fisting in his curls.
âShitâdonât stopâpleaseââ
He didnât.
Didnât even pause when you moaned his name, didnât slow when you trembled, didnât let go when your thighs shook around his head.
He held you there. Devoured you until you couldnât think. Until your eyes rolled back and your body broke open with a moan so loud the damn neighbors probably heard it.
He licked you through the aftershocks, then stood, breathing heavy.
âMessy enough for you?â he panted, wiping his mouth with the edge of your apron.
You couldnât even speak. Just nodded, chest heaving.
âGood,â he smirked, already undoing his belt. âNow itâs my turn.â
đ¶ Two radios, one unforgettable kitchen scene
She already has one radio on the counter, but the second radio belongs closer to her hands, where music can fill the kitchen without raising her voice. (AI-generated) This 1950 Retro Lifestyle scene turns an ordinary room into a private stage, where Fashion, warmth, and everyday ritual come together in a graceful Illustration. âš
A new kitchen scene, coming very soon as a collab with @nailbruise
THESE MAKES ME PHYSICALLY ILL

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Madoka Has Been Staring at That Jam for Three Weeks and Homura Is in a Bowl About It
time-is-a-flat-refrigerator:
madoka wished to save every magical girl and also this strawberry jam. homura reset the timeline 47 times and ended up in a salad bowl. neither of them is okay. the feta knows what happened.
NOOOOO NOT THE KITCHEN SCENE
Rocking Pregnancy: A Bold New Journey | In a stylish kitchen full of gadgets and spices, a unique story unfolds. A man showcases his vibrant side with a green dress and a casual white shirt. His belly is growing, marking five months of an unforgettable journey. With hands firmly on the counter, he embraces the joys of preparing meals and savoring memories. This is not just about a look; itâs about carving a new path in life. Lively colors and kitchen antics create a buzz thatâs hard to resist. Itâs a world where pride meets creativity, and every detail tells a story. Get ready for a blend of fun, flair, and fabulousness! More images are also available at https://mpregstuff.com.