#Extended Shelf Life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whambambatfam · 1 month ago

Text

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

───── ��⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

624 notes · View notes

shycoconutt · 6 months ago

Text

Life changed a lot after Nanami Kento came into it.

Nights alone in your apartment feasting on cup ramen with microwaved broccoli (for your health obviously), turned into homemade dinners under candlelight. The long ride to work in the back of an Uber turned into riding in the passenger seat of Nanami’s luxury car, hands intertwined over the middle console. Quick showers turned into long, steaming baths with essential oils. Winding down from a long day turned from nights out at the bar to nights in under the covers while he softly reads to you.

“Darling, hey, wake up,” you hear Nanami whisper in your ear as you feel your shoulders shake lightly. You groan in protest, not wanting to be broken away from the warmth and smell of him all around you.

“I know, I know,” he softly chuckles, “but we need to get ready for bed properly.”

You nuzzle into his side more and wrap your arms around him. Squeezing him slightly, you take one long, dramatic inhale of his scent in the crook of his neck, fluttering your eyelashes to give him butterfly kisses.

“What are you doing?,” he laughs, “It tickles!”

“Just taking some for the road,” you smile into his skin.

“You’re such a dork.”

With Nanami, everything always seems to be taken care of. There is no need to over-extend your brain power, because once a thought or worry passes through, you know it’s been meticulously mulled over by your other half.

Your appointments are scheduled and on the calendar. Your laundry is clean and neatly put away in the proper place. Your memories and photos are filed and categorized, with some of your favorites even framed and displayed in your home and offices. Your books, CDs and other media are sorted alphabetically in pristine condition.

“But wouldn’t it be cool if they were categorized by, I dunno, color? We could make a rainbow wall!” you suggest as you marvel at his work.

Nanami, who is currently kneeling on the floor putting the last of your books on the shelf, turns and gives you a disapproving glare, “Absolutely not. It would be a disservice to your collection.”

“A disservice to my collection?”

“What happens when a series contains books of all different colored covers? Am I supposed to just separate them?”

You blink.

“You’re right. I apologize for even suggesting something so foul.”

But, most importantly, over everything, your body, mind, and soul are finally at ease. Past anxieties rarely present themselves anymore, and, if they do, you never dwell. People say you’re glowing, and they aren’t wrong. Your skin is clear, your hair is shiny and smooth. Your favorite clothes fit a little better, and your shoes are always polished to look brand new.

“Nananmi Kento looks good on you, girl,” Shoko muses, watching you over her lunch in the breakroom.

You smirk, daring not to look across the table to conserve your blush, “Feels good too.”

“Gross!”

You curl over in laughter as Shoko chucks a strawberry at your head.

All this and more, because Nanami cares, protects, cherishes, and respects you. He would never, ever in a million years try to hurt you in any way. He is honest and loyal, vowed by his duty to be a man. Ever since he was young, he put immense thought into its meaning, only to be confirmed by one look at you.

One look and he knew that you were the one he would spend the rest of his life with.

“I think I should take you out on a date, if you don’t mind of course,” Nanami stutters, gently pulling you aside after one of your meetings.

“You think we should date?” you question, head reeling.

“Yes,” he starts, “I think we’ve been friends for long enough and it’s time to move forward with our relationship.”

The disbelief you feel must be painted on your face because Nanami’s normally pale skin is flushed cherry red just looking at you.

“I mean, long term,” he’s babbling now, “I want to make you my wife. Well, I wanted you to be my wife from the beginning, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but they always say the best relationships start from friendships, so I thought it would be best to take our time. Naturally, now is as good a time as any. We’re at good places in our careers, we already spend a lot of time together, our personalities mesh, and, I don’t mean to be coarse, but I think we’d look pretty good tog-"

Before your mind has a chance to catch up, you’re already cutting him off with a passionate kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down close to you. After a beat, you feel Nanami’s broad, warm hands grab hold around your waist, pulling you to him.

His lips feel so soft, and more plush than you anticipated. You part yours slightly in an invitation, and he’s quick to swipe his tongue against your bottom lip. You reciprocate and smile when you feel the vibrations of a small moan escape him.

You break the kiss first.

“I’d marry you yesterday if I could, Kento.”

Where he ebbs, you flow. With the few traits he lacks, you flourish. In social settings, you pick up when he doesn’t have the bandwidth to keep going. You can read his mind from his body language alone. You've shown him how to aim for the ideal, even when his pragmatic nature leads the way. You’ve taught him to slow down, even when life is relentlessly shoving him along.

“Kento, are you- are you crying?” you question in shock.

It’s difficult to process the information in front of you. You’re not seeing things, right? That’s definitely a tear falling down his cheek. Quickly, you bring your thumb to his face, swiping it away.

Catching your wrist, he brings your pulse point to his lips, giving you a small kiss there.

Here, feet in the white sand of the island of Redang, under the dark, starry sky, Kento goes down to kneel before you.

Recognizing the gesture, your heart swells and all the air leaves your lungs. Both your hands immediately cover your mouth, and the burn of tears forming ignites behind your eyes.

Through the blur, you see him smile.

Regaining composure over your senses, you remind yourself to take everything in. The way his honey-brown eyes reflect the lights in the distance, the way his open collar ruffles in the breeze, the appearance of the new freckles from the Malaysian sun that decorate his exposed chest, how his unstyled, blonde hair moves freely, how one of his hands takes both of your own, while the other holds out a breathtakingly beautiful solitaire diamond ring.

Your eyes take him all in and land back on his face, one that displays the most loving, adoring expression you’ve ever received.

“When you came into my life, everything changed. I knew, from that point forward, I would dedicate my existence to ensuring your happiness. Nothing matters to me more than seeing you smile. It gives me purpose—fills the air in my lungs. I have never, and will never need anything more.”

You watch the tears cascade down his cheeks, mirroring your own.

“Please do me the honor of marrying me and making you my wife.”

One second passes, and you squeal, “Yes!”

a/n: This was supposed to be smutty and turned into something fluffy. I can't help it! I just adore him so much. also, how do we feel about this format? I've never done something like this before!

#kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fic #nanami'#jujutsu kaisen #jjk

875 notes · View notes

heirofnight · 6 months ago

Text

meddling, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: the next little installment of pure preciousness revolving around these two. no plot, just fluff. azriel is smitten with the idea of doting on reader - he's just pure and sweet and wants to make her life easier. reader wears azriel's sweater, and his heart almost explodes. azriel then rearranges the entire library for reader because she can't reach her favorite books. enjoy!

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love revolving around this little drabble-turned-series! this is another example of me sitting down and just writing until i feel like stopping. no plot, just cutesy fluff. i hope you love it! also lightly edited, sorry for any mistakes. <3

read part one here

six months ago, you'd arrived at the house of wind. for the first two months, you had gone to great lengths to isolate yourself from the high lord and his family. while you'd had no initial negative feelings towards the group, you'd prioritized cultivating a peaceful environment for yourself after the past you'd so narrowly escaped from. this involved keeping to yourself, finding solace in the private library a few doors down from your rooms, and not speaking to anyone else.

four months ago, you'd been tricked into attending your first family dinner in the dining hall on the second floor. funnily enough, the house itself - along with one of az's stray little shadows - were the reasons why you'd ended up frozen in the archway of the dining room, every instinct in your body screaming at you to flee to your chambers. after polite coaxing from rhys, and encouraging nods from azriel, you'd felt welcomed as a new member of the tight-knit inner circle by the end of the meal.

you still found yourself looking back on that evening and smiling fondly.

now, this evening, you were perched on your favorite chair within the library, book in hand. you'd cycled through several different series over the last few months, and tonight, you were beginning a new trilogy that you'd found tucked at the top of your go-to shelf. the tall, wooden display of books contained a myriad of novels in every genre you could imagine. you struggled to reach the top row of books, which - of course - contained your favorite genre: romance. you briefly wondered if the males that resided here had sequestered books about love in this hard-to-reach spot on purpose. you'd had to grab a footstool and still stand on your tip-toes to reach the novels you'd desired.

alas, you'd finally grabbed them - all three at once, to save yourself the exertion of all but climbing the entire shelf when it was time to move onto the other two books in a few days.

you were snuggled comfortably in your favorite armchair, large droplets of rain pelting the side of the library's windows. it was dark, gloomy, and the perfect reading weather. a fire burned brightly within the hearth across from you, warming your legs and toes. dim fae lights and candles flickered a relaxing glow into the space.

you nuzzled into an oversized, lived-in, charcoal grey sweater. it belonged to azriel - well, it had - and his scent still lingered as if it were woven into the threads themselves.

he'd silently approached you last week, same sweater folded neatly in his hands, politely extending the fabric your way. you'd abandoned the focus on the book in front of you to meet his gaze, brows cinching together in silent confusion.

"you said you were always cold," he started, voice quiet. he always spoke to you so quietly. gently. and he wasn't wrong, you truly were always freezing - a fact the house had learned, too. it made sure to always have the hearth burning in any room you were occupying.

you smiled fondly up at him, nodding once. "i'm surprised you remember that, az," you said, a faint rosiness creeping onto your cheeks. he noticed your blush, and it made the corner of his full lips quirk upward.

he huffed out a quiet breath in response, extending the sweater a little further towards you. "i thought maybe this would help. i don't ever really need it - illyrian blood, you know. i'm always warm. anyway, i understand if you don't want it. but i promise it's clean, and when i have worn it, it's always kept me warm. so...-," he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, full of nerves. now it was his turn for his cheeks to turn pink, and he cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact.

a wide grin spread across your cheeks as you reached forward to take the large, soft sweater from his hands. "thank you, az. really. this is perfect," you whispered shyly, holding the fabric against your chest. he smiled proudly, a dimple peeking out.

and that was that - he walked over to his preferred spot within the library, wings perked in pride. he made himself comfortable with a book of his own, and you both read in silent companionship.

tonight, you'd adorned that same sweater as you let the sound of the rain outside become the soundtrack to your escapism. out of your peripheral, one lone shadow twirled through the door of the library - your favorite little tendril. you glanced up as it approached you, swirling around your right hand as it always did in greeting. you smirked, knowing its master was not too far behind.

sure enough, in strode azriel shortly after - the rest of his shadows lazily twining around his form. his eyes found you immediately, and his steps faltered as he realized you were wearing his clothing. that dimple made another appearance as he smiled shyly, cocking an eyebrow upward.

"keeping you warm?," he asked, taking in how cozy and well, adorable you looked like that. in his clothing. reading a book in the candlelight. azriel was in trouble, and he knew it.

you nodded, sitting up straighter as you took him in. his hazel eyes were nearly glowing. "very. it's my new prized possession," you smiled, and that comment nearly made azriel's heart burst.

he hummed, quite pleased. "good. it looks like it was made for you," and he meant every word. maybe he should give you every piece of oversized, warm clothing he owned. they looked far better on you, anyway.

you looked back at the open pages of your book, smiling, trying to hide the blush creeping from your neck up to your cheeks. he noticed anyway - he noticed everything.

"how's that one?," he nodded his chin towards the book in your hand as he got comfortable in his own armchair. his wings spread behind him in a relaxed fashion.

"oh, i can't put it down," you sighed, looking up at him once more.

he hummed, glancing around at the tall spread of novels that surrounded the both of you. "i've never seen it on the shelves", he mused, brows furrowed as he studied the closed cover of your book.

you took a sip of your tea, snorting in jest after you swallowed. "probably because it's tucked away on the highest shelf in here," you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes fondly. "i had to use a step stool, and even then, i barely reached it."

he nodded once, studying you for a moment. he looked as though he was pondering something. the moment ended quickly, his own eyes averting to the pages in the open book before him.

the next day, you'd entered the library after breakfast - as always. what surprised you is that you weren't alone like you normally were around this time.

azriel was already there, positioned in front of your favorite shelf, pulling every single romance book down from the top row.

"...az?," you questioned quietly, trying not to startle him. "what are you doing?," you stepped forward, peering up at him. his large hands held a stack of books, most of which you'd already read.

he turned towards you, cheeks quickly tinting pink. "oh, y/n," he paused for a moment, looking from the stack in his hands and up to the top shelf before meeting your eyes.

"well, you said that the books you enjoyed were too high. so.... i rearranged a couple of shelves to make sure they were at a height you could reach," he smiled bashfully.

you froze in place, taking in the entire scene before you. and sure enough, he'd already moved most of the romance novels. and beyond that, he'd also relocated them to a shelf that was right next to your favorite chair. you could literally just reach over from where you normally sat, easily plucking your next choice from the row without having to move.

you smiled widely up at him, eyes twinkling, and he swore his heart was going to swell and float right out of his chest.

"az," you breathed out, "can i hug you?," you blurted, overcome with emotion.

he huffed out a laugh, carefully setting the stack of books in his large hands down beside him. he nodded then, opening his arms for you.

you stepped into his large frame, and he stilled for a moment. he shifted to hold you tightly, and his wings twitched with the sudden urge to wrap around you too. his arms didn't feel like enough, you should be closer.

instead, he settled for moving one hand to the back of your head, cradling you against his chest. he smiled to himself, another wave of pride flowing through his chest and limbs.

he could get used to this.

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun

if you'd like to be added, pls let me know <3

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel one shot #azriel drabble

848 notes · View notes

sunrisesyner · 7 months ago

Text

#frozen fruits #frozen gems #extended shelf life #frozen produce #fruits and vegetables

0 notes

oceantornadoo · 8 months ago

Text

you: an absolute teeth-aching bone deep want to be loved and to give love. that hollow feeling behind your chest is too familiar and you want it gone. you just want to be in love, to treat someone with gentleness and to be wanted.

your 141 bae who has been in love with you since the moment he met you: ...i'm right here

gn!reader headcanons below the cut:

childhood best friend simon: let's say you knew him before he lost his family. a scrawny-limbed blond, always willing to extend a trip to the park or a cigarette behind school - anything to not go home. you'd visit him when he started part-time as a butcher in high school, wrinkling your nose at the smell of bloody meat but staying anyways, doing your homework at the singular table in the shop. he was there when you moved away from town, for college or a new job or any life-altering decision that he was secondary to, something simon could only hope to grasp. once he leaves for the military, you mourn your relationship and move on. simon is a blur in your mind, a reminder of snow days and sweet tea summers and leaf piles and dandelion picking, on a nostalgic shelf in the untouched corners of your brain. ten years later, you've finally made a name for yourself and truly gotten out; grown roots. but you still have this soul-deep yearning, some unfamiliar-shaped hole in your chest that miraculously fills when you open your door to simon, a grown man who's tired of wanting you from afar. tired of stalking your social media and writing fantasies in his head. tired of picking people to fuck just because they look like you, then going soft halfway through because their voice isn't the right pitch. he's here, and he's ready to do whatever it takes.

best friend gaz: now this is different from a childhood best friend, so keep that in mind. gaz is always this guy-next-door type with a panty-dropping smile and impeccable manners. this notion does him some good, helps him avoid some deep-rooted british military prejudices, but it also turns you away. you check him off as nice and place him in the best friend box. you don't understand how he tracks your every move on a mission, almost always getting caught by johnny or price. you miss how he grips his pint ten times harder when he sees you on the pub floor, dancing with some stranger whose hands are a bit too low. he tells you he gets rejected for being "too nice", but really, he ignores his 27 unread DMs and flirty cafe eye contact in favor of movie nights, prank wars, your shitty reality shows. he's grasping onto straws, can't you see sweetheart? when you're drunk and turn into a cuddler, he can pretend just for a second that you truly mean it. gaz lets your hands wander under his shirt, lets you murmur your darkest fear of never being loved into the quietness of your room, leaving you to sleep on top of your covers with a kiss to the forehead. he doesn't know what's pushed him over: you almost dying on that last mission, you making out with a stranger in a bar, you you you in those pants and that shirt and that's it. he has to say something. has to put it all on the line because gaz can't live like this anymore.

best friend's brother price: it was some one-sided crush, your best friend's brother with his suave teenage ways as compared to your brutal tween phase, acne and braces on the way. it had dissipated quickly, john never the wiser, his presence substituted with trendy band obsessions and first kisses. instead, it happened at your best friend's wedding. you were both in the wedding party, some object of fate throwing you together as your best friend forced you two to dance. you were tipsy on champagne, on the happiness of marriage, that you giddily admitted your fleeting childhood crush and how much john had grown since then. and that was it. john was always going to settle down, always going to have a pretty thing waiting for him back home, he just didn't figure out until right now that it would be you. he tries to hide his affections under friendliness, not wanting to ruin your friendship with his sibling, but john has never been discrete. he's suddenly invading your life with offers of fixing your kitchen sink, painting that one spot you can't reach, moving your couch to fit your latest pinterest board. you're practically family, love - which kills all your hopes for something more, feeling like a familyzone. but john means it differently, means you're predestined to be his, already accepted and loved by his loved ones and how could he not see it before? you refuse to accept his kindness and it absolutely kills him, so he scares off potential dates and any chance of meet-cutes with an arm around your waist and why can't you see him the way he sees you?

friends with benefits johnny: it was just sex, right? you'd been the one to say it, the one to set that boundary with your fellow sergeant. you didn't think johnny was capable of more, mistaking his cheeky smirks and booming laugh for being unserious, when in reality, johnny is as serious as it gets. he tells himself he can fuck you because he'll marry you one day, that cross sitting heavy under his shirts. he doesn't wash his sheets for weeks after that first fuck, too busy inhaling the scent of you cumming around his mouth, his cock. that is, until, you tell him his sheets stink and refuse to fuck him and he pretends you're having an argument as a married couple, all intimate and bored. johnny sees a recruit getting too flirty and pulls you into a supply closet using his best distraction methods. he sways you from joining a month's long solo mission, some stupid excuse about missing your lips too much when really he knows it's a suicide mission. johnny forces you to stay over after a midnight fuck, some bullshit about simon being up at that time and seeing you in the hallway on base. in reality, he treasures cuddling you with his brawny arms, pretending you're his willingly. pretending he's made peace with you, this wild creature, never tamed but understood. he can't force himself to ask for more, too scared to lose the crumbs he's holding onto. johnny tries to hide it with a fiery personality and a thick accent, but inside? he's a complete goner.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod 141 #tornadothoughts #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #141 x reader #141 headcanons #fluff

854 notes · View notes

rainydayathogwarts · 3 months ago

Text

Boyfriends and mentors - Tony stark x reader, Peter Parker x reader

summary: peter brings his gf to meet tony, his mentor. But when he gets dragged away for nightly rounds, he doesn't think as much as he should before leaving you two alone. cw: SMUT, cheating (r! on peter), age gap (20s and 40s) reader is described as shorter than tony and having hair that can be 'tucked behind your ear', slight angst at the end, reader regrets it. 3.5k wc

An extended hand.

A welcoming smile.

A classic 'girl next door' outfit.

A nervous glance back to your boyfriend.

That was all it took for Tony to be wrapped around your finger. Your smile faltered when your hand stood unshaken a few seconds beyond comfortable. Tony blinked twice, stepping forward to shake your hand, his second hand clasping around your shoulder as he tugged you closer to him, walking you into his lab and welcoming you to his 'sacred space'. Peter's shoulders slumped in relief, following his two favourite people in the world into the room.

Tony jogged ahead of you to clear some things from one of the two stools in the room, gesturing for you to sit down whilst he took his place on the other chair. Tony knew you were a special girl. Peter spoke about you all the time, going on about your skills and kindness, and beauty. Most importantly, you were special enough for Peter to bring you to the Stark Tower, filled to the brim with avengers and spies who only had to look at your face to know every detail about your life. Tony dismissed the questions you asked him, claiming "You probably already know too much" before turning the tables, nodding along as you answered his queries.

You leaned forward as you spoke to Tony, or 'Mr. Stark' as you called him, a curious gleam in your eyes. Laughing where appropriate and mirroring his body language, you were pulling out all the tricks for him to like you. It seemed to be working. You hadn't thought much about meeting the Tony Stark — probably overrated and not as attractive in real life. But boy were you wrong. The older man looked engaged as you spoke, stroking his salt and pepper beard in interest. All you wanted was for him to approve of you, especially as Peter's girlfriend, and not at all because you wanted a man as handsome as him to like you. Peter, who now stood behind you, chest to your back, one hand on your hip whilst the other held yours, squeezing your palm lightly in reassurance. Glancing back at your boyfriend, you grinned at him, feeling your cheeks heat up when he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to your lips. "I'm so glad you guys are getting along well."

Tony grinned, getting up to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from the shelf with two glasses, asking "You old enough to drink yet?" You laughed, nodding your head yes. "I am, Mr. Stark, but I'm not such a fan of whiskey." Tony hummed, eyebrows raising in mock surprise. "Oh right. Well, wine?" You shrugged your shoulders with a smile, muttering a "Sure, why not?" He scavenged for wine glasses in his cupboard — an odd collection you thought for a lab — before pouring a glass for you each. "Spider-Man here has nightly rounds soon, and I can't be sending the kid off to work drunk." Peter huffed behind you, mumbling something about 'not a kid', but you paid him no attention, clinking your glass with the boy's mentor.

"Wait! Rounds!" Peter gasped, "That's like, now!" He realised, rushing around the work space to sling his bag over his shoulder. "I'm sorry baby, we have to go." Peter sighed disappointedly, his eyebrows furrowing worriedly. "The party just started," Tony started, swirling the wine around in his glass "Hey, why don't you go ahead and y/n and I can get to know each other a little better?" Peter's eyes lit up at the suggestion, a smile forming on his face. "I can get her a drive home if she needs one. Unless..." Tony pointed at Peter, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I'll come back and get you when I'm done, yeah babe?" You nodded happily, swinging your legs on the high stool.

Peter ran towards you, pecking your lips lightly before swiftly existing the room, metal doors automatically closing behind him. You caught Tony moving in your line of sight, twisting in your chair to revert your attention back to him. "Now that he's gone you can tell me all the dirty stuff." You felt the heat make its way to your face at Tony's comment, unsure if he was joking. His face broke out into a laugh at the taken aback look you sported, exclaiming "I'm joking sweetheart!" You felt your heart beat particularly hard.

Sweetheart.

Peter never called you that, only ever sticking to 'babe, baby', or just your name. Tony was a man of taste — you could tell by the delicious wine. Assuming it was because he was older would be rude, so you stuck with the idea that it was due to his charm. Touchy enough to make you feel welcome, but not too touchy to make you uncomfortable.

"Penny for your thought?"

You broke out of your trance, shaking your head with a nervous chuckle "Sorry. I- I just get worried about Peter whenever he goes." The lie rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, the fact that the man in front of your could probably read your body language not occurring to you. Tony grinned, scanning your body from head to toe, grateful he was sat close enough to you that the work space wasn't covering your entire body. Your legs were swinging slowly where they couldn't reach the ground, your short dress splayed over your thighs. Thighs, ever so slightly squeezing against each other to show your... excitement to meet your boyfriend's mentor. Your hands clutched the sides of the seat underneath you — probably to stop yourself from fidgeting. Your head was often tilted downwards, if not looking around. You avoided looking at him unless he spoke directly to you, in which case you'd intensely return his eye contact.

"Worrying about your boyfriend isn't healthy for a relationship." Tony commented, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You grimaced a little, feeling caught out in your lie, and hopped off the stool. Leaning your elbows on the table in front of you, you observed the space, starting "So what's this stuff you're working on now." Topic averted, Tony noted, getting off his chair. Not a healthy relationship, he thought, at least from your side. Tony approached you until he was stood directly beside you. "Fixing a jet for my suit." You hummed in interest, watching as Tony swiped his hand in thin air, projecting a three dimensional display of the iron man suit.

Clicking on a few things, Tony pointed at the broken jet on his suit, gently placing a hand on your back as he explained it to you. The sudden touch had you taken a sharp breath, eyes going slightly wide in surprise. With Tony's attention on the display, you felt safe in knowing that he hadn't noticed your reaction, though you hadn't noticed the upwards tug of the corner of his lip, telling you otherwise. The display of his suit in front of you disappeared and you abruptly turned to face Tony, chest brushing against his. You took a shaky step backwards, reaching for the abandoned glass of wine on the table. Taking the last sip from the glass, you looked up to see Tony holding the bottle up with a raised eyebrow. Nodding, you held your glass out to him, whispering thanks before averting your attention from him.

"I'm not surprised you and Peter are together." He spoke, voice booming in the now otherwise silent lab. At the confused expression you held, he elaborated "You seem shy. He's definitely shy when he's out of that suit." You shook your head in disagreement "I'm not - I'm not usually shy, Mr. Stark." Bingo, Tony thought. "Oh? How come you are now then?" Tony's brows furrowed in mock confusion, gaze violently trained on you. He kept track of the way you sipped your wine to gain yourself time to think, swallowing thickly before responding "Well, I just want to make a good impression on you." You blinked twice, adding "You know because Peter cares so much about you." Tony caught your pause, wetting his lips with his tongue before stepping closer to you. "It's nice that you care so much. People usually don't nowadays."

"Of course I care. I love Peter." You noticed the pointed tone in Tony's voice, nodding along with him in disguised oblivion. "You take good care of him?" Tony asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Uh-huh." You don't know when Tony became so close to you, but you were now stood chest to chest with him, looking up at him to maintain eye contact whilst you spoke. Tony took one last sip of wine before putting his empty glass on the table. Following his actions, you handed him your glass, which he took with a smile, placing it right next to his. Tony's hands trailed towards your hips, manoeuvring your body so that you were trapped between him and the table. He began closing the distance between you. With his lips barely graze yours, you raised both your hands to cup the older man's face, his beard tickling your palms. Inhaling deeply, you firmly stated "This is wrong."

"We both know that means nothing to you sweetheart." Tony gave you a moment to challenge his words, scoffing in amusement when you didn't, before slamming his lips against yours. Your body had an instant reaction: involuntarily moaning and pushing yourself up against Tony, hands on his jaw pulling him impossibly closer to you. "Fucking knew it." He mumbled when you briefly separated for air before deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue against your lips so you opened your mouth, tongues tangling in a messy kiss. One of your arms slid over his shoulders, tugging him closer to you while you pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, battling for dominance against the older man, who easily carried control over the situation.

Tony pushed you back against the table, hitting your hips back against the cold marble and grinding his pelvis into you. You lightly hit Tony's chest to push him away from you, panting loudly when his lips separated from yours. Tony was immediately cupping your face with one calloused hand while the other was clinging tightly to your waist, making space for his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the scratch of his beard on your soft skin, eyes fluttering closed. Failing to suppress a moan, you tangled a hand in Tony's hair. Shit. You weren't used to the feeling of such skilled lips on your neck, and much less a beard on your skin. Peter had never grown facial hair; you weren't sure if he could.

"Fuck." You whimpered, feeling Tony's teeth scrape against your neck. Pulling Tony's head back by the grip on his hair, you desperately chased his lips for another kiss, hands moving to land on his impressive torso. Tony's arms wrapped around you, lifting you up just enough to place you on the table behind you, breaking the kiss in the process of doing so. The man stares at you silently, hands wandering under your skirt to tug at the string of your panties. "Hips." He whispered, watching with great interest as you lean your weight onto your hands, pushing your hips up to let the man drag your underwear down your thighs. You observed as he pockets the panties, a smile on his face, before both his hands trail down to your left leg. He folded your leg up to rest on the border of the table, pulling a gasp out of you when the cold atmosphere hits your dripping core. Tony repeated the movement with your second leg, stepping back to look at the scene he's created.

Peter Parker, his intern, his protégé, his chosen son. Peter Parker, whose girlfriend was sitting on Tony's lab table, spread out like a meal ready for him to devour. Tony puffed his chest out proudly, wondering if you'd break up with Peter from the guilt of cheating on him, or if you'd keep this as a secret, clinging onto what's left of your relationship. Would you sleep with Tony again? Or would you refuse to see his face ever again? "Mr. Stark?" His head snapped towards your small, unsure voice, waiting to see if you'd made a terrible mistake. "Fuck sweetheart, I'm going to eat you whole." Tony approached you in two big strides, hands gripping the tops of your thighs as he leaned down into your pussy to press a bold kiss on your cunt before immediately starting his attack on you. He sucked and licked at your pussy, tongue switching between dipping into your entrance and putting pressure on your clit.

It seemed the latter got a stronger reaction out of you, with hips bucking uncontrollably, and a hand that returned to his hair as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly before letting his teeth graze your sensitive areas. Gasping, you pushed Tony's head deeper into your cunt, squeezing your thighs around his head with a whine of "Mr. Stark!" The formal use of his name has a groan ripping out of his chest, the sound sending vibrations up into your core. You moaned so loudly you were sure the whole building could hear you, and possibly even Peter, halfway across the city doing rounds.

Grinding your hips against Tony's face to add to your pleasure, you can feel the man bringing you near your orgasm. You threw your head back, eyes shutting tightly. The pressure on your clit was so strong, bringing you closer and closer to the edge until... it was gone. Your head snapped up at the sudden loss of friction, gasping in disappointment, watching as the man in front of you stood up to reach his full height. You dropped your legs over the edge of the table, shutting them tightly. Tony stretched his back, twisting his torso until you heard a crack, muttering "Can't do that too much one you pass the age of forty." You looked at him unabashedly, jaw dropped in confusion and shock. Watching your expression, he added "You didn't think I was going to let you come anywhere other than on my cock, did you?"

Gulping, you let Tony drag you off the table, your feet landing on the floor with a soft 'thud'. Gripping Tony's belt, you tugged him closer to you, unbuckling the thick leather until his jeans dropped down his hips. "Gimme a kiss." The man muttered, leaning forward as he removed his boxers. You pecked his lips softly before glancing down, curious to see what he had to offer. Your sharp inhale had Tony chuckling, mumbling "Don't worry baby." You cringed slightly at the name, hand instinctively reaching for your phone at the reminder of your boyfriend. The screen lit up from its place on the table and you spotted the message 'Won't be late, I love you xx' from Peter. "Still thinking about him?" Tony asked, hands massaging your hips. "I'm sorry. The 'baby' reminded me. Don't wanna get caught." Tony nodded in understanding, kissing you deeply. "No one can come in here without my permission, you don't have to worry about anything sweetheart."

His hands guided you to face the table, and you held your breath, feeling the tip of his dick wander between your thighs, and catching onto your clit. Slowly, he pushed his cock into your entrance, inch by inch, watching your body react. You placed both hands on the flat surface of the table, biting your lip as your chest slowly heaved with deep breaths. "Fuck" You mumbled, dropping your head down so you got a clear view of Tony's legs, pressing against the side of your own with his jeans gathered in a bunch around his ankles, your pink panties sticking out of a pocket. With a final, sharp thrust, Tony filled you up, making you wince slightly. The man didn't wait for a 'go-ahead', instead beginning to thrust his hips into yours at a toe-curling pace. Moaning quietly, you pushed your hips back against his, allowing him to hit you at a deeper angle. You yelped at the new angle, allowing Tony to pull your hips back onto his with every hump of his pelvis into you.

With one hand moving to grip your hair, Tony pushed your head forward, causing your entire body to bend over, chest hitting the cold table, making shivers run down your spine. He held you there for a few thrusts before moving his hand back to your hips, trusting you to stay against the tabletop. Little moans escaped you with every sharp smack of Tony's hips against your ass, eyes tearing up with pleasure. Fuck, you shouldn't be doing this, you thought. A sudden sense of dread and guilt filled you, the image of Peter popping up in your mind. Peter, and everything he did for you. He didn't deserve this. But the only thing your mind could focus on was the feeling of every single little ridge of your boyfriend's mentor's cock running along the inside of your pussy, driving you closer to your orgasm with every passing second.

Despite Tony pulling you back onto his cock, his thrusts were so powerful they drove your hips into the sharp edge of the table, sending a splitting pain into your body. The pain blended into pleasure and the pleasure to pain. One of Tony's hands left your hips, trailing down the front of your dress until he could cup your mound. He bunched the fabric of your dress up past your abdomen so that he could rub at your clit harshly without obstruction. "Oh!" Your back arched with the extra friction, and you pushed you ass out, crying out when Tony's second hand came to smack it, likely leaving a hand print in its wake.

"Shit! I'm, I'm gonna cum!" You cried, letting Tony pull your torso up to his chest, hand wrapped loosely around your neck while he encouraged you to cum, fingers working at overstimulating your clit. The knot in your stomach snapped, and you were suddenly having a mind numbing orgasm, causing you to fall limply against Tony's chest, legs giving out under you. The older man tightly wrapped an arm around your waist whilst he kept on thrusting, pulling out last minute and averting his hips so his cum shot out across the table, painting the workplace with white ropes of cum. You leaned your entire weight against the table when the man let go of you, panting heavily in an attempt to catch your breath.

Tony stood with furrowed eyebrows as the last drops of cum dribbled out of his cock, hand stroking his dick to pump them out. You sighed, walking around him and leaning over to stick your hand in the front pocket of his jeans, gathered around his ankles. The man gasped, eyes stuck on your ass, eyes following you and you stood up straight, pulling your underwear back on. Averting your gaze from the man, you let the shame wash onto you, tears pricking at your eyes. You frowned, turning away from Tony in a moment of instant repentance, sitting down the stool he was previously sat in. Tony immediately sensed the change in atmosphere, giving you your space whilst he put his pants back on and cleaned his desk space.

Cautiously, he approached you, putting a hand on your shoulder with a soft "Are you okay, sweetheart?" You nodded, wiping away at any fallen tears and reaching for the wine bottle across the table. Tony stood silently as you took a swing straight from the bottle, recollecting your emotions. "I'm fine." The room was filled with an awkward tranquility, a mutual agreement to sit quietly until Peter returned.

When the door knob finally jiggled and a robotic voice announced "Mr. Stark, Peter is attempting to enter the room. Do I let him in?" You jumped up, walking towards the door as Tony gave permission, wiping at your face to make sure any sign of your tears disappeared. The door opened and Peter walked in, sweat covering his face but a bright smile covering his features nonetheless. "How'd it go?" He asked breathlessly, looking straight into your face. You smiled at your boyfriend, nodding with a small "Good" before throwing your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. Peter's balance was thrown off, stumbling slightly as his arms caught themselves around your waist. His mouth opened in a gasp, allowing you to slip your tongue in, deepening the kiss with him. When you broke the kiss, his cheeks were impossibly rosier, and you mumbled "I missed you." against his slightly chapped lips.

Well, you're definitely never sleeping together again, Tony figured, popping open the bottle of wine once more.

@callsignwidow

392 notes · View notes

nichromepackaging · 1 year ago

Text

Taste the Difference: Elevating Ready-to-Eat Foods Packaging with Nichrome

In this fast-paced world, people require everything on the go. That's why convenience is so important, especially when it comes to food. Ready-to-eat foods have become a staple for individuals and families, providing delicious and easy breakfast, lunch, and dinner options. At Nichrome, we understand the importance of not only providing convenient food options but also ensuring that the packaging reflects the quality and freshness of the products inside.

Introducing Nichrome’s Pick-Fill-Seal machine – the ultimate packaging innovation for elevating ready-to-eat food packaging to the next level. Equipped with innovative rotary technology, this machine combines the benefits of versatility, productivity, and special packaging to revolutionize the way ready-to-eat food is served and enjoyed.

Variety at Your Fingertips:

With the constant innovation in the packaging segment, gone are the days of monotonous packaging designs and limited options. Nichrome's Pick Fill Seal machine, powered by versatile rotary technology, opens doors to a world of culinary creativity. With the ability to pack a diverse range of ready-to-eat foods in eye-catching innovative shapes, Nichrome empowers brands to stand out on the shelves and captivate consumers with visual appeal. From savory snacks to delectable desserts, our ready-to-eat food packaging machine ensures that your product maintains its freshness and flavor from the production line to the consumer's plate.

Productivity Redefined:

In today's competitive market, efficiency is paramount. Nichrome understands the importance of productivity, which is why the Pick-Fill-Seal machine is engineered for optimal performance. Sturdy and compact, this machine seamlessly integrates into production lines, maximizing output without compromising quality. The intuitive design of this RTE packaging machine ensures easy cleaning and maintenance, minimizing downtime and maximizing productivity. Its user-friendly interface makes it easy to operate, allowing manufacturers to meet the market's growing demands without sacrificing quality or consistency. Plus, the easy-to-clean design of these horizontal form fill seal machines ensures minimal downtime, keeping production running smoothly day in and day out.

Specialty Packaging with Precision:

Nichrome's commitment to excellence extends to every aspect of the packaging process. An advanced variant of instant food packaging technology innovated by Nichrome enables the dispensing of 2 or 3 different fillers simultaneously, allowing for the creation of multi-layered flavor experiences within the same pouch. This precision packaging of ready-to-eat foods ensures that each bite is a culinary delight, enhancing the overall consumer experience along with giving the food an extended shelf life. With Nichrome, ready-to-eat foods become more than just sustenance – they become a feast for the eyes as well as the palate.

Freshness Locked In:

Freshness preservation is non-negotiable when it comes to ready-to-cook food packaging. Nichrome's Pick-Fill-Seal machine employs state-of-the-art sealing technology to lock in freshness and flavor, ensuring that every bite is as delicious as the first. With advanced sealing technology and precise temperature control, Nichrome seals in freshness, preserving the flavor and quality of each bite. From the first bite to the last, your consumers can enjoy the full-bodied taste of freshly prepared foods even in packaged foods.

Conclusion:

Ready to take your ready-to-eat foods to the next level? Look no further than Nichrome. With our state-of-the-art RTE packaging machine, you'll unlock a world of possibilities in packaging innovation. From horizontal form-fill packaging to ready-to-cook solutions, we have smart packaging solutions that expertise in bringing your culinary creations to life.

That’s because Nichrome's Pick-Fill-Seal machine is not just a regular ready-to-eat food packaging machine – it's a testament to innovation, quality, and culinary excellence. Whether it's instant foods or ready-to-cook delights, Nichrome's innovative packaging solutions transform ordinary into extraordinary, one pouch at a time. Taste the difference with Nichrome – where taste meets technology, and every bite tells a story of innovation and indulgence.

#packaging innovation #ready-to-eat food packaging #Pick Fill Seal machine #ready-to-eat foods #ready-to-eat food packaging machine #Pick-Fill-Seal machine #RTE packaging machine #horizontal form fill seal machines #instant food packaging #extended shelf life.#ready-to-cook food packaging #smart packaging solutions #innovative packaging solutions #automatic packaging machine

0 notes

stevie-petey · 6 months ago

Text

moron

I own you. The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost. “Yeah, whatever.” And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours.

Summary: steve really hates his coworker, but you know who he hates even more ? your shitty ex boyfriend (who he just so happens to share jacket preferences with)

Rating: general, violence, lots of swearing

Warnings: allusions to abuse, use of bitch as derogatory language towards women, shitty ex boyfriend, violence, enemies to lovers (more friends), fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 3.9k

Before you swing in: hey gang !! long time no stevie blurb, so here yall go <3 please, read the warnings for this one. theres a really shitty character in this and he may be triggering, so please be safe.

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy.

Sure, he had the whole “King Steve” stint back in high school where he was an asshole to everyone, but he chooses to ignore those four years of his life. They were a brief lapse of judgment.

A very long, brief lapse of judgment. But whatever.

The point is that Steve opens the door for strangers. He greets everyone with a smile and a polite nod of his head. When Robin forgets her lunch at work, Steve always gives her his. He walks his neighbor’s dog, he offers to carry groceries for the elderly. Hell, he even waves at babies.

By all accounts, Steve would consider himself a goddamn saint.

Except when it comes to you.

Steve isn’t holding open any fucking doors for you and if you ever asked him to walk your dog, he’d laugh in your face. The moment you stepped foot in Family Video for your first shift, you made Steve’s life a living hell. He doesn’t know why or how you manage to dig so deep under his skin, but he’s convinced you do it on purpose.

The movies you stack on the shelf always somehow manage to land on Steve’s head. The jokes you make with Robin are always at his expense. You never clock in on time, extending his shift by one more minute every goddamn time. The way you laugh pierces Steve’s skull, the sound rings in his ears and blinds his senses long enough to feel nauseous.

Steve likes everyone, he isn’t a hard guy to please, but he truly, deeply, hates you.

“Y/N wanted me to ask if you’d cover her shift this weekend,” Robin scans a beat up copy of Grease, trying to feign indifference as she brings the topic up. She absolutely doesn’t want to be doing this, she knows that any mention of you to Steve makes his eye twitch, but you called her crying and Robin is far too sympathetic for her own good.

Predictably, Steve’s eye twitches and he snatches the movie from his coworker. “What, did she fall and hit her head this morning?” He scoffs, he can’t believe you even thought he’d consider the idea. “She knows I’d rather her show up with a broken arm and matching black eye to work before ever covering her shift.”

“Okay, that’s psychotically cruel. You know that, right?” Robin scans another movie and shakes her head. Steve hates you, she gets that, and while she doesn’t understand why, she also doesn’t like how much of an asshole he is about it. You’re her friend, too. Robin really likes you.

“Good, I meant for it to be.”

“Steve, she’s going through a hard time right now–”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, alright? I don’t care if her grandma died and left her an orphan,” the sound of the bell above Family Video’s front door rings, but Steve is too lost in his rant to hear it. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever, ever helping that demonic witch of a human being.”

Robin’s eyes widen and she tries to cover the teen’s mouth, hissing his name, but Steve bats her hand away and keeps going. “Y/N is a fucking moron for thinking otherwise, and that’s her problem. I mean, I know she’s your friend, which I still don’t know how she even managed to do that, but–”

“Steve!” Again Robin tries to get her friend to stop talking, but Steve is on a roll now. He’s fired up, tired of biting his tongue for the last six months.

“She makes me want to physically tear my skin off and shove it down my throat every time she opens her mouth. And I’m being nice right now. I mean, I will gladly say this all to her tiny, annoying face–”

“Oh, you would?”

Immediately Steve’s voice dies and his words fall down upon his shoulders. He doesn’t dare turn around. He’s frozen. He’s convinced himself that if he doesn’t move then he can linger in the remaining few seconds where he hasn’t just said all those horrendous things with you standing right behind him.

Robin drops her head onto the counter and groans. “You’re an idiot, Harrington.”

“Well, are you going to turn around?” Your breath almost fans Steve’s neck, you’ve walked up to him. He can practically envision the curl in your eyebrows whenever you get angry. An expression Steve has become familiar with.

He gulps, still refusing to turn around. “You know, I really don’t think I can turn around.” His legs shake. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever fucked up this horribly before, and he’s fucked up a lot in his life.

“Robin,” you turn your attention to her, the edge in your voice is the only indication of your anger. “Please inform our coworker that it’s inappropriate to use that language in a workplace, and please also inform him that I will no longer be needing him to cover my shift.”

“You… Don’t?” Robin looks between you and Steve. He still hasn’t looked at you yet, his face stares straight as if he’s trying to somehow disintegrate. You, however, face her with a steely look in your eyes, which surprises her. She thought there’d be more heartbreak in them. “I-I mean, are you sure? All things considered…”

“I’m fine.” The way you say it leaves no room for arguments. It’s already been decided, and Robin knows not to try and reason with you. She deflates, and you’re pleased with this. Even though her sympathy is unneeded, you can use it to your advantage. You’re going to make Steve pay. “In fact, I think you should inform our coworker that he’s covering your shift this weekend.”

Robin chokes on her spit, startled, while Steve finally turns to face you. “I’m sorry?”

“Aw, it’s okay, Harrington.” You pat his chest, albeit with more force than probably necessary, which he huffs at. “But I think the apology will work even better after spending some quality time together.”

You’re going to spend the entire eight hour shift making Steve’s life hell on earth. And he knows it.

“But–”

“Say, Robin. What’s the company policy on harassment of employees?” You tap your finger against your chin with a menacing smile on your face. You’re enjoying this, and Steve hates you even more for that. “Doesn’t it say something about verbal insults?”

Steve sends the girl a pleading glance, begging her not to respond, but she can only shake her head at him. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. Sighing, Robin nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“I thought it did! Thanks, Buckley.” You wink at her before facing Steve again. He almost flinches at the coldness in your eyes. He’s so, so fucked. “Harrington, I’m sure you simply forgot, and I’m sure I can let bygones be bygones after you cover our dear friend’s shift. Yeah?”

I own you.

The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost.

“Yeah, whatever.”

And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours.

–

When Steve arrives at work Saturday, you’ve already clocked in.

He finds you sitting at the cash register, looking over the shipment for tomorrow. Sundays are the restock days, and the lists of orders are a pain in the ass to get through. It can take hours, sometimes even days, to comb through. When you see Steve walk in, you give him an icy smile. “Oh, perfect timing!”

“We’re supposed to get here at eight.”

“And being early never hurt anyone.” Although you’re never early, you’re always late, and both of you know this. You scratch something off from the list, eyes never leaving Steve, and he can’t help but feel that the rough scratch of the pen is meant to symbolize his face.

“What do you want?” Steve is too tired to play your games. He recognizes that he was a grade A asshole to you a few days ago, but this is going too far.

You flick your hair behind your shoulder and straighten your posture. The gesture casts a cloud of a sickly sweet pomegranate scent over to Steve, causing him to sneeze violently. He’s always hated the perfume you wear. Smiling at the desired effect, you finally shove the restock lists towards him. “I need you to start sorting through next week’s orders.”

Steve looks at the lists and nearly cries. There’s at least thirty pages in the stack, doubled sided, with five columns and fifty rows. This is the largest shipment order he’s ever seen since working at Family Video, he can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope!” You hop down from the counter and walk over to the cart of returned movies. “Now, I’d get started if I were you. You know how much Keith hates it when we don’t get Sunday’s orders in on time.”

Your figure disappears behind a shelf of movies and Steve pretends to strangle you with his bare hands. You planned this. He doesn’t know how, but you did. If he didn’t have a reason to hate you so much, now he does.

Hours pass by, you don’t at all speak to Steve as he labors over the shipments. Family Video requires the employees to manually input all the orders into the computer to send to the supply chain. The process alone is impractical and takes longer than it should, but pair that with the shitty computers that Keith refuses to upgrade, it makes Steve contemplate running into the road. The browser crashes three separate times. At one point he loses track of which movie he’d been on and has to restart an entire row at number forty-three.

It’s the worst fucking five hours of Steve’s entire life.

Meanwhile, all you do those five hours is browse through some online catalog on the other computer and help a total of two customers who come in.

By the time Steve has finally finished inputting everything, words float around his vision and he can feel the beginning stages of a headache forming. The pressure sits right behind his left eye, dull and throbbing.

All because he couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut.

Steve should really learn to listen to Robin.

“Are you all done?” You materialize next to Steve, startling him and he lets out an embarrassing shriek, which you snicker at. “Wow, Harrington. You’re really tense today.”

He rolls his eyes and steps away from you. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Yeah, who knows!” Steve glares at you and you smile right back at him. “Anyways, since you finished up so fast, why don’t you sort through the backorders next? It shouldn’t take you that long.”

The backorders.

Steve wants to fucking scream.

The backorders are all the movies that the store can’t input into the system. They’re orders that get messed up, misplaced, and abandoned in Keith’s disgusting office. The pile of discarded movies has grown so large that it rivals Steve’s height and build. It’s its own entity at this point. A terrifying, breakdown inducing entity.

You’re a fucking evil genius.

But if Steve even looks at the backorders, he thinks he might actually murder you.

“No,” he crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified and intimidating than he really feels. Awkwardly placing his weight on his left foot, he purposely ducks his head down to emphasize how much taller he is than you. “No way in hell am I going through the backorders.”

“I wonder what Keith would say when I tell him all the wonderful things you said about me on Wednesday,” you step forward, angling your head up to get a better look at Steve. You want him to see all the hatred you have for him in your eyes.

What he said about you hurt. There’s no other way to put it. His words had been venom upon your skin, searing the flesh as it left a nasty scar. The wound has festered ever since, making your already shitty week even worse.

Steve had called you “fucking moron”. Just like he had.

“Oh, screw company policy and whatever that asshole Keith says!” Steve doesn’t care anymore if he has a job by the end of today. He’s had enough of your shitty mind games and power plays. He may have been a dick, but he doesn’t deserve any of this, either. The strenuous labor and migraines. “I’m done, alright? You’re being such a–”

“Bitch?” A gruff voice chuckles, interrupting. Steve, surprised to hear another male voice in the store, quickly turns around.

The guy is tall, taller than Steve. That’s the first thing he notices. Then he notices the cold blue of his eyes and the way your entire body freezes in fear when you see him. Steve moves your body behind his, unconsciously putting you out of harm’s way, protecting you from whoever the hell this guy is in front of him. It’s instinctual, he doesn’t hesitate.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is, calling you a bitch?

“I would never call her that,” Steve squares his shoulders, putting ice into his words as he does so. He wouldn’t. He was going to call you a child. Steve would never call a woman a bitch, his mother raised him better than that and Robin would hit him if he ever did.

The guy laughs again. “You sure about that, buddy?”

“Jack,” Steve almost doesn’t hear you, you’re barely audible. He’s never heard your voice so soft before, so weak and scared; he decides he never, ever wants to be the cause of this voice. “You can’t be here.”

“Says who? I don’t see anybody kickin’ me out.” The guy, Jack, shrugs indifferently. He stuffs his hands into his jacket, it’s made of a nice, suede material that Steve is ashamed to admit he’d wear himself. “I wanted to see you, sweetheart.”

Jack tries to step closer to you, but Steve blocks him. “Funny, I thought she was a bitch?”

“Bitch, sweetheart, easy fuck, fucking moron.” Jack laughs, only this time it’s cruel. “It’s all the same when it comes to Y/N.”

Fucking moron.

Steve had said the same about you. A heavy weight of shame crushes his chest. He should’ve never called you such a cruel name. He knows that, now.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” Steve sneers, hand now coming around your arm as if terrified Jack will pull you away from him. “What the hell is your problem, man?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business? This is a conversation between me and the sweetheart over here.” Jack tries to reach for you again, but Steve shoves the guy away. He stumbles back, a wicked smile on his face. “Oh, the pretty boy can fight?”

“Steve,” You finally speak again, trying to shove yourself between the two men. The room grows hot and you don’t want anyone getting hurt. Not here, not with Steve. “Just leave it alone, walk away–”

Only Jack grabs your arm and viciously pulls, causing a pained yelp to escape you. A nerve pinches in your shoulder, he sends your body flying forward. His grip is harsh, it will leave bruises tomorrow, and you’re weak against him. Fear chokes you, he always does this.

“Don’t touch her.” Steve’s fist collides with Jack’s face, starbursts of pain explode in his wrist but he doesn’t care. All he sees is red now. Jack hurt you. He caused you to cry out in pain. Steve punches him again, the sound of pain you made rings in his ears, turns his blood cold and his anger boiling hot.

Jack recovers from the punches quickly and he raises his fist, but you try to get him away from Steve. “Stop!”

The fist comes down, you brace for impact, helpless against it, but the sound of skin hitting skin is all you’re met with. You open your eyes, Jack’s fist is in Steve’s palm. Stunned, Jack is too slow to pull away before Steve wraps his arm around his and twists it behind his back. The muscles strain, the ligament cries in pain as Jack’s arm is pulled dangerously far back.

“Fuck!” Jack screams, contorting his body desperately to get out of the death lock he’s in.

“You’re going to leave,” Steve hisses into his ear, “and you’re going to never, ever come back. If you even look at Y/N again I swear,” he mercilessly pulls even harder on Jack’s arm, the bone threatens to snap, but he doesn’t care. “I will break every bone in your fucking body.”

And with that, Steve finally releases Jack, who crashes pathetically to the ground. The moment he’s freed, he scrambles to his feet and cradles his sprained arm. He’s panting, no longer the confident and arrogant asshole he once was when he walked into Family Video ten minutes prior.

“Fuck you,” Jack spits out at Steve, but he’s already walking backwards towards the door to leave. “That bitch isn’t worth it, anyways.”

The door slams closed.

Silence fills the void that the violence left behind.

Steve shakes out his wrist, wringing out the pain from the punches. His knuckles are red, raw, bruising with every passing second. He brings the injured hand closer to inspect it, wincing at the inflamed skin.

“You’re hurt.”

Your eyes linger on the blood that leaks from his knuckles. The skin has split, but the pain that the nerve endings scream over soothes Steve. He shakes his hand out again as he shakes his head at you. “I’m fine.”

But you don’t believe him.

Carefully, slowly, you bring your uninjured hand over Steve’s injured one. Your touch is gentle, hesitant. The pads of your fingers skim over the bruising that litters Steve’s skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no.” Steve pulls his hand away, he doesn’t like what the image of his injury is doing to you. He’s not used to your tenderness, the sympathy you blanket him with. Besides, he isn’t the only one who got hurt. Steve instead brings your hand up, holding your wrist delicately as he sucks in a breath seeing the bruises Jack left. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You don’t say anything.

Steve kisses the damaged skin, he feels you shiver beneath his lips. He isn’t sure why he does it, he just knows that he wishes he could physically remove the burn of the bruises from your memory.

Minutes pass, the silence is all that is spoken.

Eventually the two of you get back to work. There’s still two more hours before either of you can leave, even if the thought of staying in the store suffocates you. No other customers come in. It’s just you and Steve, matching bruises to keep you guys company.

When four in the afternoon comes along, Steve clocks both of you out and locks the store up. He doesn’t let you do a single thing. He insists on having you sit by the window as he finishes the last restock orders and closes the door. His hand softly guides you outside, lingering on your waist as he locks the store’s doors for the night.

“Alright, well…” Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t know what else to say to you. “Guess I’ll just, you know, leave–”

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

His breath catches. You stare up at him, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability and despair. “I…”

“Please,” you can’t walk home alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that happened today. “I just…”

Without saying anything, Steve’s hand finds yours, and he walks you to his car. He opens the door for you, closes it softly behind you once you get in. He gets into his own seat, turns the radio on and fiddles with the stations until he finds the one he knows you like. Every time you have a shift together, you play the same station and sing along to all your favorite songs.

It used to drive Steve insane.

Now he’s relieved he can do this one thing for you.

The drive is quiet. The only conversation that is made is mumbled directions to your house. It isn’t a far drive, but Steve takes his time anyways. He doesn’t know if you have anyone to go home to, he knows you haven’t stopped shaking quite yet.

“Turn here,” your voice is hoarse from lack of use.

Steve listens, turns into a neighborhood he’s unfamiliar with. He thinks he’s nearing your home and he isn’t ready to let you go just yet. He knows you have to talk about what happened today. The bruises on his knuckles will fade, but the memory of Jack’s cruel words won’t.

“So,” He clears his throat. He’s doing the right thing, he knows he is. “Jack. He was…?”

You’re quiet for several moments and Steve is afraid he’s ruined everything, pushed you too far, but eventually you respond. “Ex boyfriend. Broke up a week ago. He didn’t take it well.”

“I hate him.”

Despite the fatigue that weighs upon you and the dread that Jack will come back, you can’t help but laugh at what Steve has said. “Yeah, I guess I do, too.”

Silence falls again. Steve pulls into your driveway, he turns the car off, the headlights die, but neither one of you move.

“You’re not, you know.”

You finally face Steve, confused as to what he’s referencing. “What?”

“You’re not a ‘fucking moron’. And you’re definitely not a bitch.” He clarifies, eyes meeting yours. You’re almost breathless by how brightly they shine with remorse. You’ve never known a man who felt such an emotion. “Jack is a dick, and so was I.”

“Steve…”

He doesn’t let you pity him. He knows what he did was wrong, the words that fell from his mouth about you will haunt him forever. Steve may not have liked you, but he didn’t have any right to say those things about you. “I really am sorry, Y/N.”

There’s nothing to forgive.

Steve isn’t Jack. You know that, now.

“It’s okay. I think I made you go through enough today, anyways.” You nudge his shoulder with yours, risking physical affection just this once. “First the restock orders and then defending my honor? I think we’re even.”

“I was pretty heroic, wasn’t I?” Steve tries to laugh, play along, but it’s bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for how much he hurt you.

Noticing his darkened expression, you poke Steve’s cheek. “Hey, you’re not allowed to brood. I’m the one whose crazy ex showed up at work today.” But it doesn’t work, he doesn’t laugh and you know he blames himself for everything. “Look at me, Steve.”

Night has fallen and the honey brown in Steve’s eyes resembles darkened ash. You place your hand on his, careful not to disturb his bruises. “I forgive you, but if you insist on being such an annoying jerk about it, then you can make it up to me by being my friend.”

“Your friend?” Steve doesn’t pull his hand away from yours, and it’s a start.

“Yup, think you can handle that?”

“‘Friends’,” he lets the word roll over his tongue. Tests it out, gets a feel for what it would be like to call you his friend. He thinks he likes the way it feels, the weight that accompanies it is one that settles his chest, soothes his wounds. “I guess I can be okay with that.”

He smiles at you, then, and you smile back.

You’re beautiful when you smile; warm, angelic.

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy, but by all accounts, he considers you a goddamn saint.

⌑ writing masterlist

⌑ please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #angst with happy ending #enemies to lovers #kinda #in theory #more like homies turned future lovers

471 notes · View notes

freakyformula · 6 months ago

Text

Brooding season

Summary: Carlos is brooding and wants to impregnate the reader

Writers comment: I'm about to dip myself in holy water hahah byeeee

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, reader is referred to as she/her, smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, manipulation????, google translated spanish, I think that's it?

Word count: 2,3k

"Carlos, look!" Your niece, Ava, yelled at him to come over. She absolutely adored the man, and you couldn't blame her for it.

Carlos insisted on getting her a gift for the occasion, visiting the toy store on the way over to your brother and his family of 3.

Carlos instantly saw the perfect gift as you stepped inside. A shelf full of schleich animals.

Schleich was a toy brand, you'd collected them as a kid yourself and had passed all of them down to Ava, which was a lot. Carlos knew that Ava loved horses and had a dream of becoming an equestrian one day, and based on that he carried a couple of the plastic horses and the biggest toy stable he could find to the checkout.

"Do you think she will like this, corazón?" He asks nervously.

"She better! You're spoiling her rotten." You respond.

"If you think this is spoiling, just wait until we have kids of our own."

"Would you like that?" She asks him, surprised.

"Of course I would.." He starts, "That's my biggest life goal, starting a family with you." He states, giving you a flirtatious smile.

You and Carlos had been dating for 5 years, last year he proposed but you hadn't tied the knot yet. You'd noticed a change in Carlos lately, he was keeping track of your cycle, and was talking about family, kids, and settling down more often. He knew you wanted the same thing. The thing was, he still had his career and you didn't want to be the reason why he retired.

After arriving at her brother's house, Ava greets you with open arms. She gives you the warmest embrace and then runs to Carlos and gives him the same greeting.

"Ava, we have something for you." Carlos says, and opens the trunk and pulls out her present.

Ava audibly gasps and takes the horses in her small hands while Carlos carries the heavy box.

Ava's parents, your brother and sister-in-law, Marcus and Cecilia, come to greet their guests, with the foursome exchanging hugs and kisses.

"You didn't have to." Marcus refers to the toys, making Carlos smile wide.

"It was worth it, she seems to love it." Carlos concludes. They lounge on the terrace for the whole afternoon, eating and drinking and having deep conversations. You count yourself lucky because Carlos gets along with everyone in your family and you don't have to worry about him maddening anyone. You'd consider Carlos as a bit of a people-pleaser.

"Carlos, look!" Ava yelled at him to come over. "Horsie!" She points at the white plastic horse.

"Oh look, how beautiful! Have you named the horses already? You know," He says as he picks one of the toy horses up, "This horse breed is called Andalusian and they come from the same place as me, Spain!" Carlos explains to her.

"I know of Andalusians!" She replies.

He laughs, "I thought you might."

Carlos walks back to the lounge chairs and sits down.

"You're so good with her." Cecilia looks at Carlos and smiles. "Are you planning on extending your family soon? I know you have Piñón and all but I know for a fact, you would make great parents."

You can feel your cheeks redden and Carlos giggles to himself.

"I would love to." Carlos finally admits. The attention is instantly on you. Shit, how was she getting out of this awkward situation?

"It's because of Carlos career, right, babe?" You ask him and you earn a nod for an answer. You can't help but notice Carlos looking down with a frown.

"Fair enough." The duo sitting across from you shrugs.

As the day comes to an end, they say their goodbyes to the trio and wave them off as they walk to their car. Carlos holds you close and his hand slips down to your buttock, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And as you enter the car, you both sit quietly and collect your thoughts.

"Ava is such a good kid." You say, intending for it to remain a thought but you happened to say it out loud.

"She truly is. But I think ours would be another class altogether. They would have the coolest, kindest, most beautiful mother in the whole world."

"And the most loving, smart, and dedicated father in the world." She finishes.

You can see the fire in his eyes as you say that.

"We're going home, now." He says with a strained tone.

After a while, you notice the bulge in his pants and decide to help him out. You bend over to his side and open this zipper to his shorts. As his length springs out you can't help but give his tip a teasing lick, and as you do, you can feel his dick twitching.

"Shit, I'm close already." Carlos blurts out.

You couldn't care less and take the head of his shaft into your mouth, starting to bob your head up and down. He lets out a moan, clearly enjoying himself. As you go deeper, you feel his dick twitching again, making him grab your hair and pull you off him.

"Tonight, I want to cum in you." Carlos says, as he tucks himself in again. He's caressing her hand, which is so typical of Carlos, he always cared for you and treated you like his queen.

The car ride back to your shared apartment feels longer on the way back than on the way to your brothers. You were just as turned on as he was. You still felt a little bit unsure about the subject you'd touched on earlier, afraid of what it could result in, expecting the worst.

As you drive into the parking hall, you walk out and turn around, met by Carlos. You can feel his breath on your face, standing only a couple of inches apart. He creeps closer and steals a light kiss. All of a sudden, he picks you up into his strong, muscular arms and carries you to the elevator. When you and he reach the elevator, he lets you down and turns you around to face the mirror.

He's standing behind you, placing kisses behind your ear, along your neck and across your collarbone. His hands are frantically exploring your body throughout with a certain urgency. He begins to knead your breasts once he reaches them.

"Oh god…" You moan.

"God can't help you now, bebé baby… I want you so bad, you have no idea." He whispers.

As you hear the ping, indicating that you've reached the right floor, Carlos once again picks you up and carries you to the apartment door with ease. When you get inside, your hands are all over each other. But it's as if you've made a silent agreement, you don't rush, you take your time with each other.

"Can I take this off?" He asks, looking at the shirt you're wearing.

"Please, Carlos." And that was all he needed to hear. He unbuttons your shirt and pulls it off. You pull his tee off in response, moving your hands lower, unbuckling his belt.

As you're about to reach for the button of his shorts he pulls you over his shoulder and carries his fiancé upstairs to their bedroom and throws you onto the bed. As you sees his bulge her mouth starts to water. You need him right now.

He walks up to the bed and hovers over you, "Are you okay with this?" He asks while unbuttoning your pants.

"Please, Carlos, just take me already."

Carlos smiles at your reply, "So greedy… You have to learn to be patient."

He wiggles her pants down, leaving the panties on for now.

"C'mere, kiss me, Carlos." You say as you pull on his neck.

He strokes your bottom lip with his thumb, looking at you with so much lust in his eyes. "So beautiful, mi cariño my love."

He gives in and gives you a wet kiss, quickly deepening the kiss.

He rolls you over, with you now sitting on his hips. He gives you a questioning look as he drags the bra straps down from your shoulders, and when you give him a nod he unbuckles it.

"Oh my god, mi amor my love. You're perfect", he breathes out as he starts to suck his way from your neck to your bare chest.

The feeling drives you crazy and you sit up with him following along.

The feeling of his erection against you is ecstatic, and you just can't help grinding against him for some relief.

He takes your nipple into his mouth and starts sucking as he's playing with the other one.

Soon, grinding him isn't enough for either of them and you get off and help him drag his shorts down, pulling his boxers off too. As his length comes into view, you look at him for permission and take him into your hands, stroking him agonizingly slow, earning a moan from him.

"Please, Y/N." Carlos whispers.

"What do you need?" You ask.

"You."

And with that, his attitude changes, as if he's awakened. He pulls you down, helping you onto your back. He looks at you in awe, as you stretch out your body teasingly.

"Pull your knees up, Y/N." He says as he places himself at the end of the bed.

You obey. "And then, spread your legs for me." A whim of uncertainty suddenly startles you. Carlos sees it and hovers over you quickly.

"You're doing so good for me, mi amor my love. You're the most exquisite woman I've ever seen, don't be scared." He reassures you.

And with that, he slowly slides his hands up your legs to your knees, and down to the insides of your thighs. He gives your thighs a bit of pressure and with that, your legs part.

"Good girl." He whispers in your ear as he leans down, kissing your face languidly.

"Can I take these off?" He asks, pointing to her panties.

"Yes… please." You moan out.

He slides them down and moans out at the sight of you laid bare before him.

You grab his hand and steer him to your core.

"Jesus christ… Mi corazón My heart, you're dripping." He says as he touches your aching pussy. Moving up to your clit, he starts to work it. Meanwhile, he bends down and gives you kisses all the way down to your tummy, where he stops.

"Dios mío My goodness, I can't wait to see your belly swell with my babies." You moan at his words, having a hard time keeping your hips still for him.

He continues his journey down to your core, giving your clit a light kiss as he moves his fingers down your drenched slit. He slides a finger in, letting you adjust. And then he adds a second, and third finger, stretching you out for him. As if that wasn't enough, he places his mouth on your clit, eating you out like a starved man. You moan loudly at the feeling of his fingers curling, and mouth being on you, feeling yourself getting close.

"I'm cumming!" You say with a strained voice as you press your core further into his face.

As you come down from your high, Carlos is busy pumping his cock, deeming you ready for him.

While waiting for you to give him permission to enter you, he strokes your belly, imagining you with his kids. He couldn't imagine a better person to be the mother of his babies.

"May I?" Carlos asks.

"Yes, but please, take it slow." You reply.

Carlos nods, gives your lips a peck and guides his cock to your heat. Slowly, he enters you, watching your wretched face.

This was agony for you, even when he slightly pulled back and continued his journey inside you.

"You okay?" He asks you with a worried face.

"Yes, Carlos, I'm just… I'm okay."

Soon you feel the pain subside, and you start relaxing and opening yourself up, allowing Carlos more space to penetrate.

Carlos bottoms out within you and both of you let out a broken moan. He set a slow rhythm at first, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders, hitting the right spot.

"Does that feel nice?" He asks as you hyperventilate.

You're too overwhelmed to give a proper answer, so you just moan and nod.

He starts ravaging you, setting an unforgiving pace, reaching unbelievably far inside.

As you scream out the second orgasm for the night, Carlos slows down to catch a breath.

"Turn around on all fours." Carlos orders, helping you into position. He slams into your heat, taking you by surprise.

"Fuck!" You moan.

Carlos keeps slamming into you, feeling himself get close. He takes your hand and guides it to the lower part of your belly and presses on it slightly.

"Do you feel that? That's me fucking you." He says as you feel him pumping into you.

"Mmmyeah.." Is the only thing you're able to let out.

"I'm close, do you want my cum?" He asks as you nod desperately.

"Please, please, please. Cum in me, I want your cum. Please." You answer rather politely.

"How can I say no to that" Carlos replies and flips you over to your back again.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he guides himself back in. He gives you a few more thrusts before he spills inside you, filling you up with his thick white cream.

"Ohhhh my god!" He yells, surely making the neighbours pissed.

As you both come down, you rub his back soothingly.

"How many times do you think we will have to do this?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"Hopefully more than once." You chuckle. "Thank you for this."

"No, Y/N. Thank you, for everything. For following me everywhere, for sticking with me even if I'm messed up, for cheering me up, for hopefully making me a father."

He watches some of his cum leak out of you, stuffing it inside again to not spill anything.

After a few minutes, he appears with a wet towel in hand, helping you clean up.

You spend the night in bed, eating pizza, playing cards, and watching TV. An evening just to your taste.

#f1 fic #fan fic #fic writing #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one fanfiction #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #fanfic

604 notes · View notes