#(also utterly incoherent)

[mantisgodsdomain]

Finally, we get the opportunity to put our Spy Cards worldbuilding in a work. Though there are many questions about such things as "regulation" "how these cards are printed" "who approves a single spy card", and so on, we are here to present a bold new take: this game is based like 60% on obscure roach memory-reading tech that got turned into a card game with absolutely No card-game-related intentions included in the original tech and most of the card vetting is just from the fact that there aren't too many card printers out there and most of them make cards that need to be translated from Roach.

Strictly speaking, as a card game, it is not a terribly good or well-balanced one. It's popular primarily because of a mix of the difficulty involved in getting the data for high-level cards, the fun of seeing the variety of monsters that can be brought to the table, and the incredible amounts of ham and drama that goes into specifically the professional scene.

[soullessjack]

sorry I’m high and stupid brain posting but erm the amount of times I’ve seen that fucking “he’s not a villain he’s just a boy” quote stuck into jack moodboards is so funny bc A) it’s super repetitive and B) it’s almost representative of the way half of this fandom just dumbs him down to sunshiny baby who decided he’s good without like actually understanding The Turmoil , and with no appreciation for his teenage angst or bitchiness or the rabid soulless psychosis. it’s very unseasoned and flavorless frankly. If it were a meal it would be average temperature water and paper thin communion crackers I think . Put some tajin or perhaps some A-1 sauce on that boy

[devintrinidad]

Your one reply to my one post got me thinking. If you could ship any of the TWST boys with a Disney Princess/Hero, who would they be and why?

Hey, Devin here!

Oooooffff, that's a good question! I think you mentioned one of the more popular ones like Azul/Tiana, Alice/Riddle, etc., so I'll go with one that is pretty cracky (???) but could work if written/executed properly.

Don't laugh, hehehe.

But what about Floyd/Moana?

Like, Floyd is all about freedom and independence. He does what he wants to do whenever he feels like it. He's like the ocean in that way. One minute as calm as a sleeping baby and the next, as temperamental as a hurricane.

On the other hand, Moana (whose name means ocean!!!), she also likes independence and freedom, but she still adheres to the rules and restrictions of tradition and what's best for her people. Of course, she does go out of her way to leave her island so she can rescue her people, but again, that's because of tradition--that little bit of rebellion was just a bonus.

So, they're kind of like opposites in a way? Floyd is inhibited, while Moana is more restrictive. Both crave freedom and independence in their own ways and regard consequences quite differently. I suppose if they were ever paired together (romantically or otherwise), Floyd would teach Moana to not put so much emphasis on her people's needs over her own while Moana would teach Floyd about thinking before doing.

Plus, I think it would be fun if Floyd were trying to flirt with her, but the ocean decides to interfere if it thinks Floyd is getting too rowdy (like sending a tidal wave his way and splashing him). Also, can you imagine a "kiss the girl" sort of situation where Moana is on her small boat and Floyd is in his merform and he's leaning up to meet her halfway as she leans down? Peak romance, hehehe. Or Moana swimming with Floyd as both humans or when he's in his merform?

I bet Floyd would also have fun with Maui while Moana would try not to get on Jade's hit list.

Both of the Tweels would definitely be after Hei Hei if only just for the bit and to bother Moana.

Thanks for the ask and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

[patricia-von-arundel]

Without going into complete details, I was utterly devastated Friday night. Some stuff happened in the last year or so that has left me walking a knife edge, and while I'm mostly veering towards the positive side, sometimes life tilts the other way. Which happened then. I was alone, I was panicking, it was too late to call anyone, and I had to shriek into the void to prevent myself shrieking in person.

I do appreciate those who asked if I was okay. Honestly, I do. I wasn't then, but I am now. It was a perfect storm of triggering events and I just could not deal with it, between stress, exhaustion, and a whole lot of guilt that I carry constantly.

It turned out fine. Almost funny, by the end. (But I'll be the first person to make inappropriate jokes about things, especially myself.)

And it used to happen often. No longer, thankfully, and mostly because I have a stable presence around.

(For the record, I've gone extremely low-contact with my parents, for reasons I'm also not going into here. But that factored in both when the despair hit more often, and again on Friday.)

Life isn't always easy, and one thing about social media that is a positive, is that you can virtually scream your throat bloody and not get escorted out to waiting authorities. 😅

Pretty nasty anon I got, but it also reminded me of when I got a similar one years ago, saying my ex deserved better than me. I rolled my eyes skyward at that. I was well on my way to taking to the road already there. And I did. Left the asshole. Have never regreted it. And I see no sign that I should, either before, during, or after leaving.

Leaving is also my own business.

But do not have a go at my girlfriend. I will eviscerate you.

I'm pretty good with an axe.

Trust me.

Gloves are off if you say a fucking word to or about her.

I was 75% of the way to destroying myself when she put herself and our relationship on the line to change things.

In the end, she was more important to me than both the destruction and the oblivion.

You will not go after her.

Anyway - that's explanation without going into great detail. I should be back to regularly-scheduled Engaging tomorrow. How's everyone else liking the game so far??? Because I love it. 😃

[abyssmalice]

// 4.2 story genshin spoilers

(alright everyone...................... time for my story Thonkies)

(so overall: it was a p good story, i feel like it wrapped up fontaine's overall story well enough.

emphasis on "well enough" bc i do feel like some parts of it were very, uh, how do i put it. "bullshitty" is a harsh word but there were def moments, especially when it was dropping exposition, that felt like the writers were kinda just pulling things out of their ass in order to explain things and therefore come up with a solution to conclude everything. in the vein of "X thing exists!! we're just telling you it exists Now, like 5 mins into the finale, without almost zero buildup to it" sort of vibe.

at least, i think i need to go over the prophecy and the heavenly principles stuff with a fine-toothed comb again later........ because the exposition on that felt very "just take us at our word for it" like when you think about it, How does the heavenly principles actually enact the prophecy? especially when the story outright throws a "the root of the prophecy's effects is the whale"?? the implication is that the prophecy and all it entails is "fated", and thus, it's not that the heavens literally orchestrated the whale and stuff (well unless they want to prove me wrong on that in the next couple of AQs) - but that they have the ability to manipulate or enforce "fate". the "law" of the world and all that bs essentially. and fontaine's fate was meant to be that prophecy, leaving the finer details up to whatever actually happens.

BUT THIS STILL TAKES A BIT OF THINKING TO FIGURE OUT AND ALSO KINDA FEELS WEIRDLY OUT OF NOWHERE AND ITS LIKE, AS A WRITER I THINK IT'S COOL BUT ALSO GOD DAMN DID IT FEEL LIKE IT CAME OUT OF JUST NOWHERE-

anyway, this isn't to say the AQ was bad. no, i honestly think it was really good, i genuinely liked it, even if i feel like the execution of some parts was. weird. essentially lmao

.

ANYWAY THATS MY ONLY REAL MAJOR GRIPE, LET ME GET INTO THE STUFF I ENJOYED THE HELL OUT OF:

aka fuwina........... ;A;

like ok girl, you win, ill roll for you. i am so fucking rolling for you once i have the primos-

the entire "acting" scene by scene.......... oh my god, it was so good, you really feel for her. i was utterly bawling my eyes out the entire time, personally. also idk about the other languages, but jp furina takes the fucking cake for me - all of her dialogue where she isn't putting up a front is voiced so softly, almost childishly—it really hammers in the point that furina really was, as focalors put it, "naive and inexperienced as my first day as a human" when first created - she was split into existence and purposefully left clueless on some knowledge (like focalors' plan for the prophecy) and lacking in any magical powers that could be considered godlike, hence human, and not-all-knowing or all-powerful as a god. a true human, a newborn young human.

in essence, a child thrust into the role of acting as something more than that, with dire consequences if that role was not played to perfection, with seemingly no end; any normal person would be crumbling under such weight, and furina more so as someone who, in the context of her own situation, didn't even know what the "plan" entailed besides what focalors' said - all she had was pure turned desperate belief that it would turn out okay because the other-her said so.

(i can already hear tonitoni awkwardly trying to share a juice box in the back of my brain.............. something something the solidarity of young girls thrust into positions of power without quite knowing what they were getting into years down the line but they knew there was something on the line and they would do what they can for those they loved and a god looked upon them and said, follow what i say, and everything will be well-)

anyway i havent played furina's story quest yet so thats all the fuwina thonks i have, but i sure hope it doesnt make me bawl again........

.

my other big thonks def have to do with the whale and the events around it (of course they do, what kinda blog is this again? tonitoni blog? yes and no)

i think the fight was pretty cool, tho i want to know why the actual hell we fought. that thing. inside the whale. besides the rule of cool factor. like is there a reason that was in there in the first place?? also why do some of its aoe attacks look like vishaps are trying to attack you.................... hey, what's going on here man......................

also the way skirk tosses not just choldee but also the whale into an abyssal-looking crack. like, ill get to childe in a second, but let me focus on how she actually just sucks the whale into a suspiciously quantum-looking ball before tossing it aside. (please tell me we're getting a quantum element. bc. maybe. that. that means. i-imaginary element.................. PLEASE I WANT TO GIVE MY TONIS AN EXCUSE TO SECRETLY HAVE EITHER QUANTUM OR IMAGINARY AS ONE OF THEIR ELEMENTS PLEAAAAAAASE-)

and skirk herself is still a pretty mysterious character, despite all the lore dumping she did. p much the only primary things strictly related to her character is that: 1) she has her own greater-scope master 2) is very much strength-focused (300 million swings........... yeah, i see where childe gets it now), 3) and bc of said views on the strong and the weak, she will only consider others her equal (and therefore, humor them at all) if they display truly exceptional strength (see: "without using powers from beyond this world")

(this also makes me think skirk would not even bother to blink at smol toni, but may in fact consider tol toni at least somewhat "an equal" due to that toni surviving millennia in the abyss due to a mixture of insanely stubborn determination + her actual elemental powers come purely from the leylines/irminsul and nothing else, so any honed skill is both technique and teyvat-related power. thooooo, considering the lore also says that the primordial one created the human realm and its leylines (which should implicate the irminsul too, considering it's also found in the abyss aka beyond the world itself??), well....... god fucking knows on that one really.

FUCK I WISH THE LORE ON LEYLINES AND IRMINSUL WASNT SO MESSED UP IN LOGIC!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS MESSING ME UP AS SOMEONE WHOSE MUSES' LORE RELIES ON THIS!!!!!!!)

anyway, i really want to know the logic behind her just. throwing childe. into the hole along with mr whale in a ball. im guessing, the implication is that it's just like, a random abyssal portal that will presumably spit out the whale into an abyssal garbage dump while childe will be sent somewhere he can be retrieved (and taken back to snezhnaya, thank god, tonitoni would never let him hear the end of it if her brother got thrown into ANOTHER unreachable destination after two AQs of being thrown into jail and then into a sealed sea).

still a weird jarring moment though, i agree with everyone on that........... really weird.

BUT HEY, AT LEAST WE HAVE WORD FOR WORD DIALOGUE SAYING CHILDE IS SUPER STRONG AND FOUGHT THAT STUPID WHALE FOR AGES ESSENTIALLY, i want no more complaints on how strong and cool he is (i am saying this bc toni will never say it but i know she'd want to say it but would hate saying it so im saying it for her)

.

there's some more stuff i wanna say, esp re: the third descender and the gnosis stuff, + some extra thonkies about "fate" esp in the context of my tonitonis. and with the fontaine AQ wrapped up here, i can probs start to safely figure out the full fontaine timeline for smol toni - but ill leave all that in a separate thonkie post)

[glass-cannon-kitty]

I love seeing other people’s glams in dungeons and such.

Especially if I’m running my Sage glam, which is built around the Casual Jacket and looks very modern and relaxed.

I once ran Prae with a group who like. Looked like they were there to fight, full armor, appropriate gear, weapons, etc.

Meanwhile there I was looking like I would have my tomestone in one hand and a Chocobucks in the other.

Idk the juxtaposition was funny to me.

[judicent]

Sad that I hated one of the ONLY ACTUAL ART CLASSES my college had me take. While I did do some good work for it, the professor thought realism was the only #valid form of art. He alleged it didn't factor into his grading, but that doesn't quite explain how I would follow the rubric to a T and still never get more than an A- if I was lucky.

If you need to know anything more about the man, he couldn't string together a coherent sentence to save his life and made us watch a jordan peterson vid while waxing poetic about what a genius he is

[veneskaa]

Just saw the MOST unhinged take about the aita cake guy and im honestly kind of shook about it. Basically that making fun of cake guy and calling him TA is an essentially ableist thing to do, because plenty of autistic people have extreme food sensitivities, ranging from not being able to eat the thing to "will be extremely upset if i have to eat the thing when i wasn't expecting to have to" and we shouldn't assume that cake guy isn't autistic or that he has another mental disorder that would make a layer of vanilla inside his chocolate cake a traumatic event. And it's like. Absolutely nobody is just coming after this random guy for having food sensitivities. Nobody's actually making a comment on food sensitivities at all. Rather, this is a 34 year old fucking adult male who of his own free will posted this story - without any mention of food sensitivities, autism, etc - to the internet, the famously "coming after random guys" place, literally asking for feedback and looking for justification. This isn't pointing and laughing at a stranger for having food sensitivities in the privacy of his home. This is, in a bitchy way or not, answering a question that he willingly asked the public. It's so odd to see someone completely bypassing that initial act of agency on his part, like, pretending that he didn't make that post. And i honestly can't believe it's real

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams

[leclercsbunny]

maybe if you loved me ♡ c.sainz

part two ♡ masterlist

F1CHAI the summer vacation not only brings dramatic shifts and shuffles among the current lineup, it also brings forth a new *rumored* couple. after a previous relationship that was rife with confusion and so much controversy, y/n has rose to the trends, this time, with daniel ricciardo headlining the event. their similar posts have sparked discussions all through out the interweb, prompting fans to speculate that they have spent their break together.

"haagen or ben and jerry's?" daniel hollers from the kitchen, and you raised your head to shout back, "both!"

you focused on the task at hand, picking the perfect movie or series to binge while munching on the junk food spread on the table. it was covered with all the essentials for a night in; chocolates, popcorn, fries and nuggets. you were wrapped in the fluffiest of blankets, and the felt the most comfortable you've ever been in a while.

daniel sat himself on your side, grabbing the other end of the blanket and getting cosy himself. you murmured a quiet thanks when he handed you the icey treat, leaning into him when he kissed your head with a welcome in return.

the aussie raises an eyebrow to his phone, seeing notifications flash after the other and feeling it hot under his touch. he chuckles, showing the barrage of mentions and messages he's recieved, "see, i'm not totally sure but i think they're saying we're on a holiday. together."

"me with daniel ricciardo?" you gasp for added effect, "i couldn't possibly."

"i know, where could they have gotten it from?" he sighs dramatically. "i'm woefully alone."

"and i'm utterly heartbroken," you touched your chest with a fake pout, "on a soul searching rendezvous."

"we're a bit pathetic." he tilts his head, a grin forming on his face. "but in-a-totally-chill way." you giggle.

"it's nice to be sad and pathetic together, though." he nods his head with a laugh, "ditto." you toast your respective icecream cups.

you both settle into comfortable silence, watching the generic comedy film playing on the television. daniel's arms felt comfortable around you, and you naturally fell into his embrace... he felt safe, and warm.

"thanks for being a friend dani." you mumble, on the prepice of sleep.

"... someday.." you were too incoherent to understand what he said in reply, only faintly registering his lips on the top of your head.

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 1,799,682 others.

carlossainz55 hace más calor en españa

*It's hotter in spain

username carlos thirst trapping his way back into yns life is so ex boyfriend lore 😭😭😭

username daniel fight back !!

username you won't even have to tell me twice

username yn i won't blame you🫡

username why would you say something so controversial and so brave???

username LOOK AWAY YN IT'S A TRAP

username let the girl move on damn

username 🚩 but he's a ferrari driver and this good looking so 10/10

landonorris 👀

username weren't you just making out with a random girl the other week?? 🤨

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,692,602 others.

danielricciardo i'm not worried💤

username he violated you carlossainz55

username the girls are fighting hold on💨😳

username YN AND DANIEL CONFIRMED ???

username CARLOS FUMBLED

username daniel just knocked carlos out with this one, 10/10.

username do not let these men back on track fia !!

maxverstappen1 cute

username netflix are you seeing this ??

username sprinkle sprinkle 🥰

[stupidlittlespirit]

Heard you wanted disgusting asks about Ford, here to deliver! Need to make that man feel so good, maybe even edge or overstimulate him, until his mind goes blank. Until he can’t even answer even the most basic(by his standards) of questions, he struggles to think and talk, all stammered phrases and foggy thoughts. His mind has been hard at work for too long, it’s time for him to cut loose! Of course he gets praised all during

I'm sober now and getting slut's regret but I'm also ovulating (tmi) so the regret isn't really hitting like it should and I can still be weird on main about this old man...........

Ugh you're so right.

Just edging him to the point of incoherence would be so good.

You could pose it as an experiment to really get him on the hook too, because you just know he'd be so embarrassed about the topic, bless him.

Maybe he cums too fast (virgin!Ford truthers good MORNING!!!!!!) and you're both looking for a way to draw things out a little more. Asking about his refractory period and timing it together to begin with, then doing stamina training with him via edging over the course of a few hours.... He gets you to test him with questions throughout to measure his ability to maintain composure so you can both see how long it takes each time for him to lose it.

And he's probably never had the luxury of taking his time, either. If he wanted to jerk off during his travels on the other side (and let's face it, it would have happened a few times) he had to do it quickly and efficiently in order to minimise the risk of getting caught or lowering his guard.

But now that he's home? You've all the time in the world. When you get the house to yourselves for a while (or even if he chose to lock you both away in the privacy of the lab) you can spend your entire evening together, leisurely exploring his wants and needs in such great detail that it's hard to convince him to take a break sometimes.

So you can ride him for hours, never letting him get further than the cusp, until he's just a total brainless drooling mess, flushed red and dishevelled and unable to do more than make those lovely little sounds while you tell him how good and sweet he is. Or have him jerk himself off to the same effect.... Fuck it, or why not peg/top him?

And it's not until he's teary eyed and utterly overwhelmed that you allow him to let go.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Hi i love how you write! could you please write some headcanons about daryl and reader being enemies to lovers?? like if they hated eachother in the beginning like at the quarry and by the end they are utterly in love and they would do anything for eachother

hey anon, first of all thank you :))

+ i think daryl would have biases towards you for things so little, maybe the way you carry yourself and he thought you were too bougie and a show-off -considering how much of a cranky person he was in the first few seasons, i doubt it would take much to annoy him-

+ he'd try to shrug it off, hating how much you take space in his mind because "who even r' yea?"

+ you'd eventually -wouldn't take much of a time- catch on that this man is irked by you for whatever reason and you'd stand your ground -which would mess things up even further-

+ i mean, after all, it's the apocalpyse, you don't know half of the people you're surrounded with at all times, even having to share tents with some of them occasionally. there is no sense of being discreet. so having a redneck talk over you, him not even acknowledging your existence in a group of people when your planning a scavenge/run is eventually... ridiculously vexing...

+ "can you shut the fuck up for a second?

so i was saying..." you'd turn to Shane, explaining your point of view on the run that's to come in a week.

Shane's ear would be on alert listening to you but he wouldn't skip exchanging subtle, cautious glances with the rest of the group. everyone tried to avoid getting into any dixon brothers trouble. they'd take guard against them if really needed but out of all them, you were the one to mess up with him, next to his brother.

+ and well... there is merle dixon. he'd sometimes talk off daryl infront of everyone in mockery but in a more frowning way in discreet saying "Darlenaaa" he'd click his tongue. "what the hell are yea doin' lettin' that woman run her mouth to ma' little brother like that infront of them worthless pricks?"

"shut up" he'd bark to merle.

safe to say, the times he snapped at you would be the aftermaths of merle's mockery.

+ two of you would get close after sophia got lost, by then you and the group had become familiar and you worried for the little girl.

he'd still snap at you and so would you, ruining the nights of y'alls and hershel's family together at dinner tables that were so rare to occur.

"yea ain't no damn tracker." he'd mutter under his breath when it was like the group had sworn to say a last word about sophia's dissapperance for the night, as you all sat down on the dinner table.

"i'm helping." you'd try to prevent your blood boiling and in time, bursting out your rage.

"yea'd be more of a use 'round here"

"excuse me?" you'd look at him in disbelief, dropping your fork and spoon to the table infront of you like a theatre kid.

it would take 5 minutes of heated yellings, veins throbbing on the side of people's necks, faces starting to turn red and for it all to stop, it would take hershel's smacking the table making you all shut your mouths for the rest of the evening.

+ you'd grow even closer when he fell off a horse and as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you that was looking for that girl and knowing that at the other side of the woods, he was also looking... that would make you feel at ease, even daring to think of it as a companionship, if not a partnership that neither of you had signed figuretively. there was no point in looking without him. the woods were too big to cover.

+ you'd be assigned to take care of him time to time. when you opposed the idea, no one listened to you and it wasn't like you could leave him to fend for himself as a bedbound.

his brain would be too numb thanks to the painkillers and antibiotics. he had fever. there were a few nights you sitting on a rocking chair, your eyelids betraying you and daring to shut down but you'd flinch to his mumbles, him tossing and turning on the bed, his incoherent words to whatever nightmare he was having. you'd wonder. what was he seeing in those nightmares that sweat droplets would slide down his temples to the pillows.

the first night you'd sigh, why were you the one wiping his sweaty forehead? why were you the one whispering soothing words that were half silent so that he'd atleast get a good nights sleep, when all he has done was to humiliate you, look down on you, not even concealing his despise towards you?

the second night, you took a deep breath and appreciated how a spine-chilling redneck could be defenseless like this. hell, you even took a joy at the idea, the ends of your lips curling upwards with a wicked smile.

+ after hershel's farm was overrun and you unfortunately found out the hard way that sophia had gotten bitten, you found solace at eachother's existence. in the end, it was the two of you, looking for her day and night.

+ merle dying had benefits for daryl as much as one hates to say. that's when he, after a lost, again, found solace at your presence.

you'd be at the watchtower this time, smoking a cigarette, looking at the sunset. you didn't need words, maybe it was because you still weren't that close or because what would even one say? funny to think, you found out about his brother dying after 3 days. you hated yourself for not noticing something being off. as much as you were desperate for merle to get lost somehow, this would've never been what you'd wish for.

"i'm sorry, you know?"

you wouldn't risk to look at his way, you'd hear a "mmmhm" sound coming from deep of his lungs and his head sagging between his shoulders a second later. and a deep breath he would inhale.

+ you'd definitely get intimate during the last few months when you still had the prison.

doubt there would be much emotion involved, mostly a way of you both releasing stress in the cellblock you had cleared up just for this reason.

you'd both hate yourself for the things you do behind closed doors at nights. thinking you're so stealthy with it, when everyone obviously knows yet no one says a word to another soul about it.

what would else be the reason that you don't know what to do with your hands or your body or your words when your next to eachother?

what would else be the reason one of you chuckling awkwardly to a not-even-slightly-funny joke uttered by the other one?

+ you'd call it love in hidden parts of your mind after losing the prison and settling in alexandria.

you couldn't explain it with anything else.

why was he looking at you the way he was -so penetrating with glossy eyes- when he thought that you weren't aware?

why was he watching you like that, when you opened your eyes for the first time in alexandria when all of you decided to crash in one living room for safety?

with half-lidded eyes, his body resting on the wall against his back.

so deep, his gaze robbed you of any privacy. you felt naked.

so intense, his gaze was sucking you into him.

"mornin' " he'd mutter and make his way to the doorstep.

you'd mutter "mornin' " to yourself, arms wrapped around below your knees, you wouldn't turn around to look at him.

was he watching you like that all night? or was it a coincidence he happened to be staring right at your soul when you opened your eyes?

footnote

ok im loving this. screaming.

[cherryxblossxms]

🔞 Thinking about Rio and how "just the tip" would fail utterly and completely and how he'd completely lose his mind to it.

Rio wants to make you happy, that's always his goal, and he'd rather die than ever disappoint you. And when you mention you want to try leading in bed, want to try teasing him, maybe edging him, for as long as possible to make up for all the times he's made your brain melt, he's quick to accept. But nothing challenges his strength of will more than just the tip, not when he's watching your body sway above him and he feels the tight, wet heat of your body on the tip of his cock.

Quite honestly, he feels like he's losing his mind, even when little time has passed. He's just always so eager for your touch, to love you and kiss you and fuck you the way you deserve, so holding back is far from ideal. That's mostly what leads to him unraveling you so often and so well, the desire to fill your thoughts with pleasure, perhaps with thoughts of him, to make you happier than you could possibly handle. So now, it's embarrassingly quick how soon he's crumbling beneath you, begging for you to let him fuck you, to sink down on him entirely.

What started out as soft whimpers and breathy moans easily devolves into begging and pleading. It doesn't help that you built the anticipation sky-high to start with, not with the way you licked and stroked his shaft, squeezed his heavy balls just how he liked it, and then spent the next several minutes grinding against him. In that position, all it would take is the right angle of his hips at the right moment and he could slide right into you. But that'd be going against your wishes, so instead he endured. And endured some more.

And now, as you swirl your hips, bounce just a little bit to where he can feel your body engulf another inch of his length, it's impossible for him to keep his mind straight anymore. The begging has turned into nearly incoherent babbles by this point, most of the words you can make out are just "please" and "more", and he looks ready to cry at any moment. And really, he just might, if you decide to finally show him mercy.

There's also the possibility that, despite his desire to keep you happy and obey your rules, he may also break the "just the tip" rule. He can't help it, he knows you deserve more, that he can make you feel so incredibly good if you just let him. And the ache in his balls is crying out to fill you up, sink you down on his cock so he can give you every last drop and then some. The second you give him the green light, he's pulling you down, almost blacking out from relief as he's finally sunken in to the hilt. He's surely spending the rest of the evening, going into the night, as deep inside you as he can be.

Rio loves to make you happy, and it's so important to him that he never disappoints you. But even he has his limits, and when you're giving him that little taste of heaven, can you blame him for being a little selfish and wanting more?

[vilsoo]

prize counter girl ☆ twelve

➥ michael afton x camgirl!reader

you've been a camgirl for only a few months and everyone loves the content you post. when michael afton porn surfs to relieve his stress, he comes across your videos. the more he jerks off to your content, the more he's addicted. but it wasn't until, a few months later, he sees your familiar face as the new employee working at the prize counter.

chapter warnings. recorded masturbation, sex toys, squirting, sexual tension, wet dreams.

notes. the pov has been switched from michael’s pov to the reader’s pov for this chapter :) i’ll be doing this for some chapters in the future as well.

pcg materlist • previous • chapter thirteen

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you… for so fucking long…”

Nothing could compare to the arousal pounding in your pussy, the way Michael— your hot manager— settled right between your legs, kissing your clit right through your soaking panties. He’s definitely the type to enjoy giving pleasure, to want to make you feel good because he prioritizes your needs. Looking down and seeing him drizzling kisses on your skin, worshipping every inch of your body from between your thighs and up to your stomach, your chest, your neck, and then to your sweet lips.

He has your thighs resting on his shoulders as he licks your cunt, enjoying every flick of his tongue and the way he would suck and kiss on your clit. He was so greedy with it, devouring your pussy like it like his last meal on earth as he holds your thighs down for you to stop squirming. Stuffed right in between them that he could also suffocate; but you’d bet he’d love that.

“I always imagined you’d taste so good… Mm, you’re so sweet.”

“I can’t get enough of this pussy, baby.”

“I need you. Now. Stay right there and keep your fucking legs open for me.”

You were soaked, completely drenched that your arousal trailed down from your cunt and left a mark on your silk sheets. If he only knew how desperately your body ached and writhed for him every day and every night, with him and without him. Your thoughts become incoherent when his cock was brushing against your clit, the same cock that utterly surprised you during your first video chat together. Michael’s size was perfect, so perfect that every fraction of it imprinted in your mind. And you took the opportunity that one night in the supply closet to finally feel it in your hands, to even taste him and his sweet cum…

“Please, Michael. I really— I really need— I can’t…”

“You can’t what, pretty girl? What are you begging for, hm?”

All you could do was whine in such carnal heat. Who knew that a man like Michael could render you as a needy, deprived slut that’s good for nothing but a fuck? Going brainless when his cock is finally inside you, raking against your insides as if he was molding your cunt to hug his cock perfectly. He pulled out for a brief second, then slammed back inside your drenched pussy, fucking into you so good that your body was sinking into your mattress.

This was everything you ever wanted with him; one of your heated fantasies that comes and goes across your mind. It felt so real. Way too real.

But just as you were about to come, your eyes suddenly flung open to your darkened room. It took a few moments to adjust to reality, rapidly darting at every corner of your room in confusion and then glancing at your digital clock showing 3:21 AM. The silver moonshine was peaking through your blinds and the ambiance of late night city traffic could be heard.

You sat up and panted heavily, feeling your heart thundering in your chest. It took a few seconds to calm down, to finally breathe normally. But once your brain solidified the dream you just experienced, your heart began pounding in your chest again.

A wet dream.

A very vivid dream sequence of Michael, eating you out and having sex with you right on your own bed…

Suddenly your heart was not the only thing pounding right now. Once your brain processed the dream, you started ruminating on everything. This nocturnal emission was so intense that there could be a possibility you had an orgasm in your sleep. Not that that hasn’t happened before, but with Michael, the man you’re now dating that started to invade your dreams, your arousal stirred erratically. From such a hot and intense wet dream, you took your hand and chafed your finger against your panties. Just as you expected; soaked and drenched.

You can’t what, pretty girl? What are you begging for?

If only that were all real. If only Michael was here, hovering over you, dirty talking in your ear and fucking you so good. Sometimes you let your imagination get the best of you and think he’d be the type to dirty talk like that. In reality, you’re very fond of him; how adorable it was seeing him all flustered from you that he just couldn't stand it. This awakens a side of you of taking control; showing no mercy to him and teasing him so cruelly. So cruel that he would hate it and grow frustrated, gaining the ability to cascade his dominance over you.

Your needy pussy was aching, throbbing, pulsing, literally flexing over nothing from all these fantasies. And since you were wide awake and horny at 3AM, there’s no way in hell you could go back to sleep now. With your fingers slowly rubbing your clit, you needed to take care of this.

Sure, all your toys could definitely help. Your collection of various sex toys that you record yourself with could resolve this issue and make you come so fast that you’d pass out and fall right back to sleep. But what you really yearned for was Michael, who could not only take care of you and satiate your desires, but could make your nights feel less… lonely. Intimacy and connection was what you craved the most, after all.

You missed him. Dearly.

Now you’re horny, sad, and lonely at 3AM.

Without wasting any minute now, you reached over to the bottom drawer of your nightstand, finding the pink vibrating dildo hidden inside a dust-free pouch. Then you suddenly glance at your tripod with the ring light standing beside your body mirror; it didn’t cross your mind about recording yourself at all today. You just wanted to get your orgasm(s) and go right back to sleep. But taking advantage of the fact that Michael watches your content and enjoys them all, you wanted to show him exactly what he does to you.

As you set up your tripod, your phone, the pink lighting, and the angle, it felt as if you were recording this for Michael. Him, and only him buried in your mind, wanting to play with yourself just for him. Sure, your loyal followers and fans could get off to this, but they’ll never know how Michael was the lucky man in your mind tonight. They’ll never know that you were only showing how much of a desperate slut you were for him.

Panties to the side, you wanted this orgasm more than ever that you couldn’t waste time taking them off or even engaging in slow foreplay. You couldn’t even set up the app you use to make a livestream; instead you swiped straight to your phone camera from your lock screen and pressed record. If you managed to stay awake after making yourself come so hard multiple times tonight, you’d definitely upload this to your NSFW Twitter, which is also where Michael follows you on. Your eyes were cropped out the camera, only revealing your mouth, your bare breasts, and of course, your cunt.

There was no need for lube since it was so slick and soppy for your silicone dildo to rub on, your breath hitching from how sensitive you were. You raise your legs higher and spread them wider for the camera as you turn the vibration mode on. Shock waves of pleasure pulsed through you that your hips began to stutter and squirm. You couldn’t even contain your moans and whines, growing more desperate and urgent as your imagination runs wild replaying the dream.

Usually whenever you livestream with your sex toys, you always start off so slow and coy, just to tease and engage your viewers. But since you were so impatient, you immediately slide the vibrating dildo inside your soaking pussy and threw your head back, thrusting it faster and deeper inside you. Your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around your dildo hitting that sensitive spot that made you lose control over yourself. Letting your mind get taken over by the desperate sensation of Michael, craving for him to be the one fucking his thick cock inside of you until you’re knocked out of air.

You needed this, you needed him. And just by imagining your dildo as him fucking you, you tried so hard not to moan or scream his name on camera. You were so dizzy with desire, dizzy by the heated fantasies you so desperately wish to come true any moment now. As you thrusted the dildo faster and hearing the lewd sounds of your juices fill your room, you can feel your orgasm starting to blossom in your stomach and your walls clenching erratically.

That’s it, pretty girl. Fuck that pussy for me.

Make a mess all over yourself. Show how much of a slut you are for me.

Imagining him dirty talking and talking you through it had your orgasm rippling and pounding so intensely that you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to. You can hear yourself squelching, pushing out clear fluids that sent your mind in a haze. Coming so hard and fast over camera, even recording yourself squirting all over your dildo and on your sheets. All within the span of two and a half minutes.

After you caught your breath and drifted back to reality, you couldn’t help but grin at the camera like an eager little slut, even sliding a finger inside your cunt to taste yourself and then rapidly slapping the dildo on your cunt. You were a mess and it was all because of the thought of Michael. You’re wrecked, and he’s never even touched you yet. You ease another two fingers into your drooling cunt, the camera catching the glint of your arousal. So nasty, so filthy, so sloppy… just for him.

Before you could forget, you stopped recording and headed straight to your NSFW Twitter. Only cropping the last 40 seconds to post as a short clip, which is where you were fucking yourself hard and building up your orgasm until you made a hot mess of yourself. You even hinted in the caption that this was for Michael, hoping he was still awake right now to see it…

thinking of you xx

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The next day when you were in the supply closet restocking the candy for the prize counter, you were startled by Michael watching you with a small smirk on his face, his body slanting against the door frame like he was blocking you from getting out. Just the thought of him having his eyes on you even if you were completely unaware of his presence made your heart leap.

“Michael,” you chuckled nervously, this time struggling to make eye contact with him. Even if you tried your best to look him in the face, your stomach contorted, as if the butterflies were gutting you inside. You really couldn’t look him in the eyes after last night, after your dream…

He didn’t reply, which made the tension in the supply closet so thick it was impossible to slice. His eyes were the one searching for your face, slanting his head evoking such curiosity. You allowed him to step forward and draw closer just to invade your space, to make the gap between you two thinner. Your gaze lingers on his forearms revealed from his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, trailing up and finally holding meek eye contact with him.

The lust was pooling in your eyes that he could see it, he could sense it. Doe-eyed, slothful, and yearning… The epitome of submission. The glimmer in your eyes that makes him lose his mind, he felt inclined to lift your chin up with the crook of his index finger, and you instantly melted inside. He was so fine, you fought the urge to drop down on your knees and unbuckle his belt, tasting his cock again in the same fucking closet.

“Was that video you just posted… for me?” he mutters lowly, lips just barely brushing each other’s that if you were to lean in ever so slightly, you could just kiss him.

“…Maybe,” you coaxed, a small smile creeping in the corner of your lips. “Why, did you like it?”

He inhales sharply, as if he had pent up frustration from watching you fuck yourself silly and posting it, that the both of you knew so well that if you were anywhere else alone besides the pizzaplex, you’d get it on right now. Shamelessly tearing each other’s clothes off, feeling each other’s skin, desiring to recreate each forbidden, nasty fantasy that you both have for each other…

With his finger still holding your chin, you feel him take his thumb and ever so lightly brush it against your bottom lip. Involuntarily perching your mouth slightly open for him, he caresses your bottom lip with your thumb. The two of you were lost in your own worlds, lost in your addicting desires. The way you crave each other was so fervent, yet so dangerous because of how impossible it was to fight the intense urge everyday to not spend more time together.

Risking each other’s employment and breaking the fraternization policy every day, hell, even if you were fantasizing about each other you felt like you were bound to get fired anytime. But the two of you didn’t care— you were both slaves to each other’s temptations.

“I’d like it more… if you didn’t hold back on screaming my name.”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2024. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access.

[minoment]

consider this: mr. john “soap” mactavish who cannot shut up when he’s in pleasure, and his accent gets thicker and incomprehensible when you’re making him cum his brains out.

he’s also the type to chuckle and that chuckle melt into a whiney moan because i said so

I concur to that statement...

Hes so pretty <3

Warnings: sub Soap, dom reader, true gn reader, my shit Scots-Gaelic (I haven't been back in a while), bondage, overstim, multiple orgasms, deep fucking, reader can have a cock or a strap, dumbification, dacryphelia..

Imagine you have him face down ass up in your bed, his wrists cuffed to the headboard and his legs spread. Lube is dripping down the back and insides of his thighs as you rut your hips into him over and over again.

He's already spilled his release into the sheets two times over and this third impending orgasm is sending him into babbles of incoherent strings of English and Gaelic.

His voice goes up octaves you never thought he could reach as you fuck deep against his prostate. He lets out a wail of pleasure, his eyes practically crossing as they roll back. His chin and lips are soaked with his tears and spit, his mouth dropped open in non-stop sobs of pleasure.

The words coming out of his mouth are utterly incomprehensible as his body spasms underneath you, his third load soaking the sheets. Even if he was speaking English, you wouldn't be able to understand it due to his accent.

You notice the way he trembled and shook, signalling his body had had enough. His mind obviously hadn't because the whine that left his lips was nothing more than adorable. Lube dripped from his holed and you pushed it back inside him with a gentle finger.

"That's enough for tonight, yeah?"

His only reply was a soft chuckle that merged into a broken whine as the tip of your digit breached him.

"Buinidh.. m-mise dhutsa...a- ghràidh.." he slurred in reply, not even realizing what he said.

[amethystarachnid]

LAZY DAY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Too Hot To Handle is mentioned because that shows makes me laugh so much, also y/n is on her period, mentions of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so Sirius' death

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, just after the Avengers where formed

ᯓ★ Request: If it's still possible, I would like to request one too! For Tony with "grumpy x sunhine" I am the most grumpy girl in the morning 😂 and it would be amazing to have Tony to cheer me up with his amazing beauty and by giving me lots of kisses, cuddling in bed in the morning, making me breakfast and spending the day with me in bed 💗 ( @little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sound of the blinds whirring open stirs you from the fringes of sleep. You grunt, pulling the blankets over your head, already dreading the day before it even starts. Mornings have never been your thing, but today… Today is different. Today, you woke up with the telltale ache in your lower abdomen that screams it’s here. And as if on cue, you feel the heavy lethargy that comes with it—your period.

It doesn't help that you woke up to Tony Stark’s penthouse, basking in the golden sunlight streaming in through the windows—because, of course, he’s already up, cheerful as ever.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Tony’s voice rings out, way too chipper for your mood. You can hear the smug smile in his voice, and it grates at your nerves, even if you know he means well.

"Mmrf," you mumble incoherently from under the blankets, hoping he'll just take the hint and let you brood in peace. But no, Tony is… Tony. And subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit.

His weight dips the bed as he climbs back in beside you. You feel his presence hovering, the warmth of his body coming closer. Then, soft kisses. One on your shoulder, another on the nape of your neck. His stubble tickles your skin, but you’re too grumpy to be charmed by it. Not yet, at least.

"Come on, don’t hide from me." His lips trail up to your temple, and then another kiss, right on your cheek. He’s relentless. "I made coffee. Just the way you like it."

You groan again, burying yourself deeper under the covers. “Not now, Stark.”

“Aw, come on, I thought we were past the last-name thing,” Tony teases, his voice filled with playful hurt. “You’re killing me here. I come bearing gifts.” His hands smooth over the blanket that cocoons you, and despite your mood, his touch is soothing.

You’re not sure why it worked—him breaking through your defenses. Maybe it’s because he’s the only one who ever tried.

You met Tony a little over three years ago. Not at one of his infamous parties or on a whirlwind trip to Europe like you might expect, but at a quiet charity event. You were the kind of person who kept to yourself, volunteering quietly behind the scenes. Tony, of course, was the star of the evening, charming everyone in his path. Everyone except you.

He noticed immediately. You weren’t fawning over him, and that caught his attention. He was used to people gravitating toward his magnetism, and for you to seem completely unimpressed? That intrigued him. So, naturally, Tony being Tony, he made it his mission to get a smile out of you.

It took weeks. Weeks of him sending flowers to your office, dropping by with coffee, and pestering you with texts that ranged from the utterly ridiculous to oddly sweet. He was insistent, and even though you found him exasperating, something about his relentless positivity started to wear you down. You were the storm and he was the sunshine, determined to break through your clouds.

Somewhere along the way, you fell for him. Hard. But it was mutual. Tony fell for you, too. For the way you saw the world, for how you never let him get away with his usual antics. You kept him grounded, and he showed you it was okay to let the light in.

Now, here you are. Grumpy as ever, in his bed, while he’s trying to shower you with affection despite the fact you’re ready to bite his head off.

“I know you’re awake in there,” Tony murmurs, his voice softening as he slips under the covers with you. His hand finds your waist, tugging you gently against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You can hide from the day, but not from me.”

“I’m cramping,” you mutter, finally poking your head out from the blankets. Your face is probably scrunched up in irritation, but Tony only smiles, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Ah, the monthly monster strikes again,” he says sympathetically. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve whipped up something better than coffee.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smirk playing at your lips. “Tony, you’re not even allowed near the stove. Remember last time?”

“Hey, that omelette was edible,” he defends, making you snort. “Barely.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “First, we’re going to stay in bed all day. No meetings, no Avengers nonsense, nothing. Just you and me.”

You hum, the idea already starting to sound more appealing.

“Second,” he continues, his fingers brushing through your hair softly, "I'm going to give you approximately one million kisses. It’s scientifically proven to improve your mood.”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Tony replies, grinning as he leans in and starts peppering your face with light, playful kisses—on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your lips. It’s impossible not to laugh, and the sound escapes you before you can stop it.

“There it is,” Tony says triumphantly, pulling back just enough to catch your eye. “I knew I could make you smile.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you love me,” he shoots back, his voice teasing but laced with affection. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You bury your face in his chest, hiding the small smile that refuses to leave your lips. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Tony laughs, a soft, warm sound that vibrates against your cheek, and he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“Now,” he says, reaching over for the tray, “how about breakfast in bed? Then, we can cuddle and watch whatever cheesy rom-com you’re in the mood for.”

You lift your head slightly, giving him a skeptical look. “You hate rom-coms.”

Tony smirks, handing you a piece of toast. “I hate bad rom-coms. But I love you, so I’ll suffer through it.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he says, settling back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tony snuggles in closer, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist as he carefully balances the tray on his lap. You sit up a little, taking a piece of toast from the plate, though the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal to you right now. Still, you know he’s trying to make things better in his own way, and that’s worth something. You nibble on the toast to appease him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He strokes his fingers through your hair absently, the simple act soothing in a way only he can make it. The room is quiet, aside from the distant hum of the world outside Stark Tower and Tony’s soft breathing beside you.

For a moment, it’s peaceful. Then Tony breaks the silence, unable to help himself.

“So,” he says, voice playful, “what’s the plan after we finish breakfast? Want to binge some terrible reality TV? Or,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively, “we could finally finish that puzzle we started. You know, the one that’s only 90% done because someone”—he pokes your side—“gave up and declared it was impossible.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not finishing that puzzle, Tony.”

“But you were so close! Just a few more—”

“No.” You turn to glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just exhaustion. He notices, his teasing smile softening into something more concerned.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll skip the puzzle. Maybe just… rest, then?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, sinking further into him, suddenly too tired to care about anything other than the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tony’s hand moves to your lower back, massaging gently. It’s as if he knows exactly where the pain is the worst, his touch deliberate and comforting. You close your eyes, letting the tension in your muscles melt away. Despite the grumpiness that’s been clinging to you since you woke up, you can feel yourself softening against him.

He tilts his head down, his lips grazing your temple. “How about this,” he says softly, “we take the day one hour at a time. No plans, no pressure. If you want to just lie here, we lie here. If you want to nap, we nap. Whatever you need.”

You sigh, appreciating how much he’s willing to adjust for you, for the person you are on days like this. “You’re really okay with just doing nothing all day?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

“With you? I could do nothing for the rest of my life and be happy,” Tony says, his tone surprisingly sincere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You? Not working for a whole day? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He grins, his fingers tracing circles on your arm. “Okay, okay, I might check a couple emails. But only a couple. Maybe one phone call…”

“Tony.”

“Alright! I’ll leave the work alone for the day,” he promises, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Scout’s honor.”

The warmth of his kiss lingers on your skin, and despite yourself, you feel some of the irritability start to slip away. Tony has always had that effect on you—making even the worst days feel just a little bit more bearable. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, how he could see through all your sharp edges and somehow make you feel seen, cared for.

You shift slightly, finding a more comfortable position in his arms. He takes the empty plate from your hand and sets it aside, his arm slipping back around you without missing a beat.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask quietly, unsure where the question comes from. “Taking care of me when I’m like this?”

Tony’s brow furrows slightly, but there’s no hesitation in his response. “No. Never.”

You give him a skeptical look, but before you can argue, he continues. “Hey, we’ve been through worse, haven’t we? You’ve put up with me for years now—there’s no way I’m letting a few grumpy mornings scare me off.”

You bite your lip, feeling that familiar wall start to rise, the one that tells you to brush off his concern and hide behind sarcasm. But Tony’s looking at you so earnestly, with that mix of affection and stubbornness that’s impossible to argue with. So instead, you let out a breath and nod, resting your head back on his shoulder.

“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” you mutter, though there’s a hint of warmth in your voice.

Tony presses another kiss to your head. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

For a while, you just lie there together, the sound of his breathing steady and calming. You close your eyes, letting the dull ache in your body fade into the background. It’s not gone, not completely, but with Tony beside you, it feels manageable. It always does.

“Tell you what,” Tony says after a while, his voice soft and laced with mischief. “Why don’t we make this a thing? Once a month, we do nothing but stay in bed. No meetings, no saving the world, just us. I’ll even bring you breakfast every time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Once a month? You’d get bored after the first hour.”

He shrugs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. But I could think of a few ways to keep us entertained.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, and despite your grumpiness, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quips, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer.

You don’t reply, but you don’t have to. The way you relax into him, the way you let out a soft sigh of contentment, says enough.

The afternoon sun casts long, lazy shadows across the room as you lie nestled into Tony’s side, still wrapped in the cocoon of blankets. The tray of breakfast long since cleared, the only remnants of your morning now are the occasional crumbs you both keep brushing away. The TV in front of you flickers with the unmistakable chaos of a reality show, and despite your initial protests, you're several episodes deep into Too Hot to Handle.

"Okay, seriously," you groan, watching one of the contestants dramatically storm off after another contrived argument. "How are these people real? There’s no way."

Tony’s laugh rumbles against your back, his arm draped comfortably around you. “I know, right? It’s like watching aliens try to figure out human emotions.”

You snort. “Pretty sure aliens would handle this better.”

On-screen, another contestant confesses that they’re “not here to make friends,” to which Tony rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah, the classic line. When are they ever here to make friends?”

“They’re not even here to find love,” you mutter. “They just want the prize money.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “And the Instagram followers.”

You half-laugh, half-groan as a new couple starts having a heated conversation about trust—again, for the third time in the episode. “This is torture. Why did I let you talk me into watching this?”

“Oh, I talked you into it?” Tony teases, giving your waist a playful squeeze. “Because if I recall, you were the one who said, ‘Anything, as long as it doesn’t require brain power.’ This show? Zero brain power required. It's perfect.”

You glare up at him, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you. “I hate that you’re right.”

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “It happens more than you think.”

You turn your attention back to the show, shaking your head in disbelief as the contestants participate in yet another ridiculous challenge. “They’re literally just being forced to sit on a beach and not make out. How is this a show?”

Tony chuckles. “Human willpower, baby. People love watching others struggle.”

“That’s not willpower. That’s just people being dumb,” you mutter, shifting against him to get more comfortable.

He shifts too, adjusting the pillows behind him, making sure you're completely settled before draping his arm back over your shoulders. “You know, if we were on this show, we’d be dominating,” Tony says, nodding towards the screen.

You shoot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “We wouldn’t even be on this show. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d avoid at all costs.”

“Hypothetically, though,” Tony continues, a mischievous glint in his eye, “if we were on this island or retreat or whatever… We’d walk away with all the money. Zero slip-ups. We'd be a power couple.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. You’d be the first one to break the rules.”

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I can control myself.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. You can’t even make it through a whole episode of this without making some comment about how ‘ridiculous’ it is. There’s no way you’d last.”

Tony leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “I’m very good at following rules… when I want to.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t let him see how much his words affect you. You shove him playfully, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “See? You’d crack under pressure.”

“Never,” he insists, though his grin gives him away. “But you? You’d be the real rule-breaker.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with a nod, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You act all tough and grumpy, but deep down? You’ve got a soft side. You’d cave the second they throw a romantic dinner at you.”

You scoff. “I’m not that soft.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, completely unconvinced. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. I’ve seen you cry at dog videos.”

You nudge him with your elbow, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “Shut up.”

Tony grins, pulling you closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “Face it—we’d be the most entertaining couple on the show. The producers would love us.”

“Because I’d be constantly yelling at you to follow the rules?” you quip.

“Exactly,” Tony says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing at the absurdity of the conversation, but there’s something about it that feels… nice. Even on a day like this Tony still manages to make you laugh, to make you feel lighter. It’s ridiculous, but it’s exactly what you need.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say, leaning your head against his chest.

“I am, actually,” Tony says, his tone suddenly softer, more genuine. “Every day.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget about the ridiculous show on TV. You look up at him, seeing that familiar warmth in his eyes—the same look he gave you the first time he told you he loved you, the same look that reminds you why, despite all his quirks and chaos, you fell for him in the first place.

You reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second longer than usual. “I’m lucky too.”

Tony smiles, the kind of smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is right, even when your body aches and your mood is sour. “So,” he says, voice light again, “do we keep watching, or do we switch to something less… terrible?”

You glance back at the TV, where yet another argument is brewing between contestants who probably won’t last past the reunion episode. “Let’s keep watching,” you say, surprising yourself.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You’re getting into it, aren’t you?”

You sigh, leaning back into him. “No, it’s just… if I have to suffer, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Tony laughs, that infectious sound filling the room as he pulls you even closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, the afternoon drifts by, with the two of you lost in the ridiculous drama on screen, but more importantly, lost in the warmth of each other’s company.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in a soft orange glow, you’re still comfortably tucked into bed, your legs intertwined with Tony’s. The reality show marathon had finally come to an end—mercifully—and now the two of you are lounging in the blissful silence of the early evening.

Tony, ever the thoughtful partner, has already ordered takeout for dinner. You didn’t even need to ask; he knew you wouldn’t feel like cooking, especially today. “I got McDonald’s,” he announces with a proud grin as he taps away on his phone, tracking the delivery.

“Comfort food. Nice touch,” you say, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“You’re not gonna complain about all the fries I ordered?” Tony teases.

“Not today,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. “I’m going to hop in the shower. My body feels all… ugh.”

Tony’s eyes light up, his grin widening as he sits up too, resting his chin on his hand. “Oh? Shower, you say?”

You immediately catch the playful tone in his voice, and you shoot him a look, knowing exactly where this is going. “Tony—”

“Come on,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s been a lazy day, and I think we could both use a nice, hot, shared shower. I promise, I’ll behave.” He gives you an exaggerated wink that’s so over-the-top, you can’t help but laugh.

You shake your head, sliding off the bed. “Absolutely not.”

Tony pouts, shifting onto his knees as he watches you walk to the bathroom. “Why not?” he protests, though there’s no real weight behind his argument. “We’re in a committed relationship. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“I’m on my period,” you interrupt flatly, raising an eyebrow as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Tony pauses, his eyes narrowing in consideration before he stands and follows you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, refusing to let the conversation go. “So?” he says, shrugging. “Not like I care. I just want to be near you.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. “Tony, I love you, but this is my one chance to have five minutes of peace.”

His grin softens into something a little more affectionate, though his tone remains light. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your ‘me’ time. But if you change your mind…” He leans in closer, dropping his voice into a whisper. “I’ll be right here. Ready.”

You can’t help but laugh, shoving him playfully toward the bedroom. “Go wait for the food, Stark.”

He gives you one last, overdramatic pout before retreating with a sigh. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Shaking your head, you finally close the door, the sound of Tony’s soft humming fading as you start the water. The hot steam begins to fill the small space, and you let out a contented sigh as you step under the showerhead. The warmth helps soothe the dull ache in your body, and for the first time all day, you feel a little more like yourself.

When you finally emerge, your hair wrapped in a towel and a fresh pair of pajamas on, the scent of fries and burgers has filled the room. Tony’s already settled back on the bed, the food laid out neatly on the tray between the two of you. He’s wearing one of his worn-out band t-shirts, the kind that’s been washed so many times it’s practically soft enough to sleep in.

“Look at that timing,” Tony says as you approach. “Hot shower and hot food all waiting for you. I should win some kind of award for this.”

You smile, climbing back into bed and settling next to him. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “I live to serve.”

You grab a burger and unwrap it, savoring the familiar comfort of the greasy food. There’s something about McDonald’s that hits differently on days like this, and you let out a satisfied sigh as you take the first bite.

Tony reaches for the remote, flicking through the movie options. “Okay, your choice—Harry Potter marathon or Lord of the Rings marathon? I’m letting you pick because I’m a generous, loving boyfriend.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Harry Potter.”

“Good choice,” he nods approvingly as he navigates to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. “Though I may regret this later when you start crying.”

You roll your eyes, though you know he’s right. Sirius’s death always hits hard, but today, with your emotions running higher than usual, you know it’s going to hit even harder. Still, there’s something comforting about watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times, where you know every scene, every line. It feels like home.

As the movie starts, the two of you settle in with your food, occasionally exchanging bits of conversation and laughter between bites. Tony sneaks a few of your fries, even though he has his own, and you flick a stray piece of lettuce at him when he teases you for getting emotional over Harry’s reunion with Sirius.

Then the fateful moment arrives. As Bellatrix’s spell hits Sirius, sending him tumbling through the veil, your heart clenches. You feel your throat tighten, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes.

Tony, of course, notices immediately.

“Oh no, here it comes,” he says softly, putting down his burger and wrapping his arm around you. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, leaning into him as your eyes stay glued to the screen. “It’s just so unfair,” you mutter, your voice thick with emotion. “He finally had someone. He was going to have a family again.”

Tony nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. It sucks.”

You curl into him more, the sadness of the scene mingling with your already fragile emotions. The tears start to spill over, and Tony just holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out. I’ll cry with you if you want.”

You laugh through the tears, wiping at your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

He grins, squeezing you gently. “Alright, maybe not. But I’ll be here while you do.”

For the rest of the scene, you cling to him, the sadness ebbing and flowing as you mourn the loss of Sirius for the hundredth time. Tony doesn’t say much, just holds you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He knows better than to try to fix it—he just lets you feel what you need to feel.

As the movie moves on and your tears subside, you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes and letting out a long breath. Tony reaches over to hand you a napkin, and you smile, taking it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you mumble, dabbing at your face.

He leans in, kissing your cheek. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

With the worst of the tears behind you, you settle back into the comfort of Tony’s arms, the two of you snuggled up under the covers as the movie continues. The food is mostly forgotten at this point, but you don’t mind. The weight of the day, the grumpiness, the cramps—they all seem a little more distant with Tony by your side.

I'm sorry I just love Sirius so much that I had to put him here even if it's about his death...If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog (that's what keeps Tumblr posts going) and maybe leave a comment or a follow if you want! <3

Ivy Rose