#daisy's drabbles

[konigofmyheart]

Showering…

<MDNI>

gn!reader, mentions of soft biting + bruises, smut

…alone for the first time in a while, könig called away to work again

although you don’t really feel alone

there’s the light bite marks he’s left on your thighs, when he teases you before moving up to where you really want him, enjoying the sight of you trembling with need a bit too much.

there’s the soft bruises on your hips, in the shape of his large hands, from when he gets carried away as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your tight warmth. he always apologizes profusely after, as if you mind.

there’s also the scattered marks all over your chest, left from when he sucks and nips at your skin, smirking at every needy little whine that slips past your lips.

not to mention the conditioner bottle you knocked from the shelf as he bent you over in the morning, huffing a soft “‘m sorry, schätzchen, need you again” into your ear, completely forgetting the reason you two were in the shower was to freshen up from the wake up session…

yeah, you’re never really alone,

he’s made sure of that <3

✦ *　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　★⋆ . ✦　 ‘. ˚　　, . •

shätzchen: baby

[prentissluvr]

OKAY HERE ARE SOME SAM THOUGHTS BEFORE I CLEAN MY ROOM (some platonic but mostly romantic)

loves getting his hair played with (romantically and platonically)

main love language is quality time

could have this giant on his knees if you compliment constantly (his looks or his personality) (mainly his personality) (he knows and is aware of how conventionally attractive he is but isn’t cocky about it) (like another winchester LOL)

runs warmer than the average human being so he’s your personal heater in the winter

but in the summer you make sure he stays far away from you bc man sweats A LOT in his sleep 😭😭

I HAVE MORE BUT I GOTTA CLEAN MY ROOM

ILL BE BACK LATER WITH DEAN AND MORE SAM 🤭🤭

djhJHFSKDJ SAMMMMM AAA okay okay bear with me while i go absolutely insane LMAO. like this is long LOL so i am gonna add a cw for anyone who stumbles upon our time of feeding each others delusions <3 i got carried away ahahahaha hehehehehe i'm normal about him tho!

wc: 1.6K. cw: kissing, a bit of swearing, brief mention of things trying to kill you bc that's the life lol, unedited

⟢ playing with his hair : do NOT get me started on sam's hair <3 it's always so pretty, and you have to make that known! sure, you do it out loud, but we'll get to the complimenting in a bit hehe. your favorite way of making it known (and definitely his) is by playing with it. constantly. and he can never get enough. sure, he gets embarrassed or picky about it around dean, like he does with just about anything romantic or sweet (mostly because dean won't ever let that sort of thing go un-teased). but he just loves so much to lay his head in your lap and let you thread your fingers through that pretty brown hair <33 it makes him feel so relaxed, and cared for in a way that doesn't feel overbearing or overly obvious.

and he loves it especially it because he knows that you do. he can feel you physically relax from under him when you sweetly run your hands through his hair, gently pulling apart any small knots and taking your time to take care of that gorgeous head of hair. he will also certainly melt and try to hide the pink tint to his cheeks when you reach for his hair unexpectedly, like when you lean in to fix a fly-away strand or full on card your hands through his hair when he's in the middle of research and didn't notice you approach.

also!! put your hands in his hair when he's kissing you!!! please!!! he's begging on his knees!!! god, he loves that so so much and he gets a secret ego boost because, once again, he can physically feel how much you love it too. he'll always kiss you harder when your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.

gets embarrassed if you put little braids in his hair, especially as he grows older and it grows longer, but he can't resist how much it makes you smile, so he lets you get away with it if dean isn't around. and just imagine putting pretty clips in his hair LOL he pouts and asks you to take them out immediately, but not before kissing the smug grin off of your lips. will die and try his hardest to delete them if you ever get pictures of him like that, but you keep your blackmail well protected hehe.

as for platonically, that is facts! he thinks its very sweet if you're his best friend or sibling! it's not as big a thing as it would be in a romantic relationship, but he'll love to have his hair played with by anyone willing <33

⟢ love language; quality time : this is like almost sad and especially sweet at the same time because the poor boy has no time to spend much quality time with you. but again, this kind of makes this whole thing sweeter because that means each moment is just that much more precious. obviously, he'd love to be spending quality time with you by going on dates in the park, taking you to a nice restaurant that's not too stuffy, or something even as simple as taking you to the movies. but those things are hard to do, so to him, any time spent with you without the presence of something trying to kill you can be turned into that precious quality time.

for him, it's about sitting on the couch with your legs strewn over him or his head on your lap or yours on his shoulder (really any sort of thing keeping him connected to you) as you pour over lore books. it's about the seamless exchange when the two of you figure out how to kill your monster or save the world together. it's about posing as fbi to get answers and slipping his hand into yours when no one's looking or grabbing a decent breakfast together before the start of a busy day. all he cares about, the things he treasures, are you falling asleep on him in the back of the impala because he gave up shotgun to sit next to you, taking months, maybe longer to get through one season of a tv show together, and always taking even just a small moment out of a busy day to be together.

⟢ complimenting him : it's true that he needs less assurance about his looks because he certainly is aware that he is fine as fuck. but let's definitely establish that he adores to hear praise about his looks specifically from you because duh! he's in love with you and you're the only one he cares about!!

but yeah, when you compliment his personality, his sweet, loving, courageous hot sometimes completely idiotic and frustrating self?? oh he's done for. he's honestly far less used to that. when you're half asleep, and you murmur into his chest that you think he's so smart, kind, funny, loving, and brave and that you couldn't be more proud to be his? he's complete mush in your arms, he can't believe it.

"that's all you, baby," he'll refute, and you'll certainly grow bashful under his compliment, but you want him to accept it, at least a little bit. "i mean it, sammy, i really do." your voice is all soft and sleepy, and oh so earnest that he can't help the aching of his heart. "i know you do," he'll whisper, suddenly emotional and not wanting you to hear it. "i'm just glad you think so. i'll always do my best to be those things for you," and that's the kind of thing he only admits when the sole light in the room comes from a dim, clouded over moon and your head is tucked under his chin so you can't see his face. he means it, of course, but he's not used to such vulnerability and blatant adoration.

he'll clench his jaw when you tell him you know that, but that it's true that he's all those things and more for so many people, the few close ones, and all the ones he passes by and does his best to save. he doesn't fully believe you, he's got a lot of guilt built up in that sweet mind of his. and it's true he's not perfect, but you never said that. all you're trying to tell him is that you love who he is, so much, and he can never thank you enough for that.

bonus, he really really loves when you tell him you think he's funny. it's definitely an ego booster, plus he loves loves loves to know that he can always make you smile and laugh.

⟢ your personal heater : this is literally sooo true. he's so big with so much body mass that he'd have so much body heat to give off. but i so agree that on top of that, he'd also totally be on the warmer side. if you're naturally warm as well, then you two are an unstoppable force in the winter time (the both of you are lulled to sleep by the other's body heat in a matter of minutes). either way, he'll always envelope you in hugs when it gets cold because he knows it'll warm you up right away. he doesn't have to ask to know when you're cold, because you'll always press yourself to him, maybe grabbing his arm and pulling it around yourself before even saying a thing to him.

"you cold?" he'll ask sweetly, and after feeling your nod and hearing your muffled "mhmm," he's quick to wrap his other arm around you too and pull you closer.

for the folks with cold hands like me, he's always trying to warm them up with his own. whether you've slipped your hand in to his just to be near and they're particularly chilly, or he can see you trying to warm your hands up yourself, he's quick to take up both of your hands in his to warm them up. when he grabs up both of your hands, he'll pull them to his chest and hold them there until he's satisfied they're warm. he'll look into your eyes and talk about something completely unrelated, all casual as if he's not making you flustered. other times, he'll warm up one hand at a time, encasing it in both of his own, rubbing it and blowing warm air on it before gently slipping it into his warm, warm pockets and moving on to the other.

also, if he finds out your face is cold, he'll cup your cheeks with his large, furnace hands or full on just pull your face into his head or neck to warm you up that way.

but yeah😭😭 summer can be a lot less pleasant. if you manage to have cold hands even in the summer (i could never i wish), he'll try to steal the coolness from your hands and you'll be like oh my god please stop i'll die LOL.

and you're like nooo babe of course i want to sleep with you, you just have to stay as far away as possible and never touch me because it might burn me to death. if he's tired and touch-starved younger sam will pout at you and tell you he just wants to cuddle. later seasons sam just won't take no for an answer and will just pull you to him until he gets too hot himself lmao. he'll make sure there's a fan on you first and a glass of ice water on your bedside. basically he loves that he's warm in the winter because it brings you closer to him, then gets pissed about it in the summer because you don't want him too close unless there's sufficient a/c or some other form of ventilation to make it cooler lol.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Okay about that Rolan thought where he is mean to himself as he masterbaits is just *chefs kiss*

What if Tav hears him? Like he’s in the back and she walks past the door and hears clapping? So she leans her ear to the door and hears him…

“So…ah-fucking pathetic…mhmm thinking about….her ahh snug cunt.”

Rolan’s knuckles are white as he strokes himself faster and faster… then he hears a slight whine.

Your ear is pressed to the door as your thighs squeeze together trying to ease the ache in your ruined panties… then Rolan sets himself back in his pants and opens the door but when he opens the door he sees, nothing? He doesn’t know that you’re just around the corner with your heart racing out for your chest and the plans to check that closet every day now.

(i was gonna link the post you mentioned but i cant fuckin FIND it hghg) EDIT: FOUND IT!!

Hope you don't mind that I wrote this, as soon as I saw it I was a MESS and had to share some more solid thoughts hghghg

~~~

'Caught?'

Rolan/femcis!Reader !NSFW!

__

When the last customer of the day leaves and you hear the magical mechanism lock the front doors, you finally let yourself deflate out of customer service mode.

“I don’t think that man was an adventurer.” You say, leaning comfortably on the front desk. 

Rolan is crouched down under the counter, taking inventory of the scrolls beside you. He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers. “It’s not just adventurers that shop here.”

“Yes, but he bought a Scroll of Enlarge. What in the world would he need that for?”

“It’s not our job to know.” The tip of Rolan’s quill dances over the furled ends of a scroll. “...Perhaps he wants to clean some high shelves in his home.”

“65 gold to clean some shelves? I doubt it.” 

You can see Rolan’s attention to his task waning as he settles more comfortably on his knees beside you, “Alright, so what’s your theory?”

“My theory?” You ponder for a second before the obvious presents itself. “Probably a sex thing.”

“Wh– a sex…thing?” Rolan sputters before waving his quill in front of himself, “What sort of nonsense are you talking?”

You’re shocked at just how flustered Rolan seems all of a sudden. You wonder just how more flustered he can get.

“It’s not nonsense, though.” You lean against the counter, looking out across the shop floor as you speak in a confidential low tone, “Your partner would be able to really toss you around like that. And I mean, the size aspect, of course…”

Rolan says nothing, and from the corner of your eye he seems almost like a statue, completely unmoving. You’re tempted to take a better look, but resist as you continue.

“Really though, I bet most of your customers are actually perverts. Why else would Scrolls of Grease and Dominate Person be our biggest sellers?” 

“Alright,” Rolan says, voice on the brink of exasperation, “I get Dominate Person, sure, but Grease?”

“Think about it. Oiling up your partner from head to toe. Everything being all slick and wet and well… greasy.” 

Rolan scoffs, “But the mess.”

“It’s magical lubricant,” You retort easily, “It dissipates after a while. Easy cleanup.” You take the side of your leg and bump him with it playfully, “Besides, sometimes the mess is part of the fun. Come on, you’ve had to have thought about it before.”

“Enough.” Rolan stands and straightens his robes brusquely, “This is inappropriate talk for work.” 

You want to point out that he’s the one that encouraged you, but you can see annoyance written all across his flushed face, and you don’t want to push it into a full-blown bad mood. You’re not really sure what flipped his switch so suddenly, but Rolan’s moods can be fickle like that sometimes. You’ve learned that it’s best to just distance yourself and don’t question it, lest you get a chewing out. With how well you both get along, it’s sometimes easy to forget that he’s your boss, and you’re his employee. 

He turns quickly on his heel and makes for the back of the store, mumbling something about taking inventory in the store room, leaving you alone to close up shop for the day. 

You go about straightening up, smiling at Tolna as she waves a silent goodbye and leaves. Luckily for you, today was a fairly calm one. There’s no mysterious goop to clean from the floors or fire-singed books to pull for repairs. 

As you move back behind the front desk to wipe down the counter, you notice a piece of parchment on the ground, near where you were previously standing. You pick it up and realize that it’s Rolan’s inventory list. It’s odd that he hasn’t come back to retrieve it.

You brush it off and begin making your way to the storage room, already imagining Rolan standing along one of the shelves, nose in some tome and his task completely forgotten.

But right as your hand touches the handle, you hear the faint whisper of Rolan’s voice. Is he talking to himself as he works? Or maybe he’s reading something out loud. It’s nearly indiscernible through the thick wood, and before you can think better of it, you find yourself pressing your ear against the door.

“....pathetic…fucking pathetic...”

His voice sounds tight and breathless and very pissed off. Did you really anger him that much? And is he calling you pathetic? It feels like a slap across the face– because to be fair, you were being pathetic, trying to get a rise out of him in some backwards, stupid way of flirting.

Your mind is already twisting around, trying to nurse at your wounded pride as you take a step back, but then you hear something that makes your entire body freeze.

“She doesn’t f-fucking want you–” His scathing words break off into a low moan and you can hear the faintest wet sound, a fast, repetitive ‘shlickshlickshlick’  that gets drowned out as he continues in the same hushed, angry tone, “You’re worthless, just a, ahh- a worthless fucking pervert.” 

The crash of arousal that hits you is nearly debilitating, but there’s a thread of pity that doesn’t let you fully indulge in the feeling. Rolan is on the other side of the door, masturbating and berating himself. It could just be a kink for him, but the way he’s hissing the words makes it seem like he’s punishing himself, like he’s saying them to keep from enjoying himself entirely. Is it because you’re his employee? Is it because he thinks he’s not good enough for you?  

You tell yourself not to be presumptuous. Maybe it’s not even about you. But at the same time, who the hell else could he be talking about? And after the chat you both had…did your playful teasing really rile him up to such an extent? 

Gods, what would he do if he knew you were listening to him? That your cunt was throbbing at the sounds of him stroking himself, that each of his breathy, desperate moans made you clench uselessly around nothing? What would he do if you opened the door? If you caught him with those long, pretty fingers wrapped around his hard cock? 

The thought is tempting, intoxicating…but even in your lust-muddied mind, you know you can’t. Rolan is sensitive, and a blow to his self image like that would be something you’re not sure you could reassure him out of. Especially with the cruel words he’s muttering to himself…it’s clear he has a fair share of sexual hang-ups. 

You press your thighs together and lean harder against the door, hungry to pick up on every minute sound. The wet noise is quicker now, almost manic, and his breathing is harsh. Rolan is getting close– the thought is so mind-numbingly erotic that your hips roll against the door in time with his small, overwhelmed whimpers. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” He pants out, voice teetering on distress. 

You wonder where he’s going to cum. In his hand? A handkerchief? Does he even have a plan for what he’s going to do? If only you were in there with him, you’d stick out your tongue for him and take every hot, thick shot in your mouth.

As exciting as your sordid thoughts are, it’s nothing compared to the sound of your name– one you’ve heard so many times from him, usually from across the store, oftentimes distracted, sometimes annoyed– but this time, it’s a desperate plea. He says it like it’s the sweetest word he knows, like the mere forming of it in his mouth is a deep, aching relief.

You groan despite yourself, and realize your error almost immediately. Rolan goes deathly silent in the storeroom, and even though you’re in a drunken daze, you jerk away from the door.

Son of a bitch. Son a bitch!

It’s your turn to berate yourself as you speed walk to the other side of the store, cheeks on fire and heart thundering so hard in your chest that you’re surprised it doesn’t break a rib. 

Did he hear you? Does he know you were eavesdropping? 

You reach the counter and immediately start fussing with a stack of pamphlets as your thoughts flit ceaselessly.

When you hear the door to the store room open, you fight the urge to stiffen and instead continue to make yourself look busy, your breath held as you hear the soft tapping of Rolan’s shoes against the tiled floor. 

They seem to head in your direction, then stop. A few beats of silence, then they veer to the left, seeming to head towards the tome counter.  

You wait a few moments before daring to take a look. Rolan’s back is turned away from you, the end of his quill dancing over the edges of the books as he continues to take inventory, like nothing happened. 

Oh yeah, the inventory list! It’s only then that you realize that it’s no longer in your hands. You whip around, looking around your feet, then along the path to the store room. 

You don’t see it.

You turn back to Rolan just as he jots something down on a piece of parchment. It’s a little hard to see from this distance, but you’re almost certain that it’s the same one as before. 

Even if there’s no solid proof that he knows you were peeping, the horrified screaming in your head doesn’t relent.

[onyourowndaisymae]

trick or treat! can i get a treat with mephistopheles from obey me? 🍬

"this is an... odd tradition you have in the human realm," mephistopheles murmurs stiffly, snapping another photo with the professional camera in his hands.

"why? the devildom has haunted houses."

"in the devildom, haunted houses aren't so... juvenile."

click! another photo, this time focused on the ambient lighting outside the entrance of the spooky attraction you'd brought him to. he lowers the camera from his eye and looks around once more.

"well, at least give it a try first before you write it all off. c'mon."

fair enough. mephisto follows you into the haunted house, lingering a little closer than he usually would. why? it's a question he ponders himself as the two of you stroll side by side through unimpressive decorations and flashing lights inside this pseudo-maze.

you're human. utterly, completely insignificant. in the grand scheme of it all, you'll be six feet under within a century. if he blinks too long, you'll be a withered like a rotten apple on the ground in autumn, waiting to become one with the dirt from which you rose.

and yet-- mephisto moves a little closer.

a scare actor pops out from around the corner. you jump in surprise, shrieking and clutching onto his sleeve as you're startled. he's startled, too-- not by the actor (he saw that jumpscare coming a mile away), but by your decision to cling on to him in a moment of fear and irrationality. suddenly this boring attraction feels a little warmer than it did before.

"is that all it takes to scare you, human?" mephisto asks smugly. "i should have realized a lowly creature like yourself could be scared so easily."

despite his harsh words, the usual bite of a bitter tone was absent, replaced by something almost... fond? he was surprised to hear it himself.

maybe you would be gone in the blink of an eye-- humans, after all, are very fragile. but mephisto is starting to see something in you, something deeper than the surface that he initially brushed off. is this why diavolo adores you so?

"come," he beckons. his gloved hand finds your bare wrist and tugs you close, coaxing you against his side as you continue to walk through the haunted house. "let's keep going."

[sunshinesickies]

Daisy Johnson x Reader

*TW: minor descriptions of mental health issues, unspecified past traumas, and anxiety

Whatever, Whenever, Anything, Always

“Hey babe!” Your girlfriend greeted you as you entered your shared room. You hadn’t seen her all day, and after the day you had, seeing her sitting cross-legged on your bed, wearing cute shorts and one of your hoodies, you felt like you could finally relax. While you were physically drained and ready to just chill out with Daisy, your mind was dragging you in the opposite direction. You couldn’t escape your thoughts, replaying the events from the day, memories from your past and emotions from your present mixing together as they resurfaced and collided.

You knew it wasn’t going to quiet down anytime soon. It was just one of those days, you’d known the second you woke up that morning and the rough mission you had just returned from hadn’t help.

“Hey.” You answered back absentmindedly, your mind far elsewhere, so much so that you didn’t notice the way Daisy’s brows furrowed as you took off your shoes and joined her on the bed. You sat a bit father from her than normal as you brought your knees up, hugging them to your chest. “Whatcha doing?” You asked your girlfriend, your tone showing minimal actual interest as you spoke on autopilot.

At this point Daisy’s worry for your abnormal behavior got the best of her. She knew you often daydreamed and let your mind wander in other ways but not so often and distractedly that you were disengaged, especially not with her and especially not after a day of barely seeing each other.

You were usually so adorably intent on hearing every little bit about her day and very talkative about yours too. While Daisy was in thought, you were staring blankly at the tv on the wall opposite the bed, watching but not paying any real attention. Daisy spoke your name but when you didn’t answer, she placed her hand on your shoulder and turned herself more towards you. You blinked a few times, finally meeting her eyes for the first time since you got back.

“Sorry, love. What’d you say?” You asked, completely forgetting that Daisy had never actually answered your earlier question. She stared at you, her deep brown eyes gazing at you lovingly and wide, trying to hide the worry behind them. “Are you okay, baby? You don’t seem quite yourself tonight.” She murmured gently, thumb running along your shoulder. You blinked a few more times. “Yeah, no, I’m fine, Dais, just a bit distracted I guess.” You said, trying to ease her worry. You didn’t like to worry her if you could help it.

“Are you sure? You’re not feeling sick or anything are you?” She added, moving one hand to feel your forehead for a fever, trying to figure out what was up. She relaxed slightly when your skin felt normal under her palm. You smiled softly at her. While you didn’t want to waste her energy when she worried about you, you loved how sweet and caring she was.

“No, I’m not sick, love. I just…” you paused, trying to find the right words to match how you were feeling which was tricky because you were still processing your emotions yourself. Daisy nodded encouragingly, waiting patiently.

“I guess…it was just a…weird day. I found some things out about myself that I don’t know how to feel about yet and the mission really didn’t help so…yeah…” You broke eye contact, looking down at your hands which were fidgeting with the hem of the duvet. A beat of silence passed before you saw Daisy place her soft hands on yours, holding them still.

“Hey.” She hummed, waiting for you to look back up at her before continuing. She’d had her fair share of past traumas and strange, sometimes awful things could resurface at random times. You’d been her person through it all, now she could be your person. “I’m sorry today was weird. I get it, like totally…and um, you know you can talk to me about anything, I’m always here for you, whatever you need and whenever you need it.” She reminded gently and you smiled softly at her sweet words.

You nodded. “I know, Daisy. Thank you.” You leaned in and slowly pressed your lips to her in a loving, grateful kiss. When you pulled away, a few tears had silently made their way down your cheeks and your girlfriend immediately moved to dry them by cupping both hands around your cheeks and brushing the tears away with her soft thumbs.

“Is there-can I do anything, do you need anything right now?” She asked, hoping she could do at least one thing to help you feel a little better or at least give you the space you needed to do whatever you needed to at the moment. You closed your eyes for a few long moments, taking a couple slow, deep breaths before meeting her gaze again. “C-can we just cuddle for now?” You whispered, your voice much more fragile sounding than you wanted it to be.

Daisy gave you a soft smile. “Of course, baby. C’mere.” She hummed, opening her arms which you immediately melted into, pressing yourself as close to your girlfriend as you could, leaving no space between the two of you as Daisy hugged you to her chest. The two of you slid down deeper into the bed, tangling your legs together as she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before you rested your face into her warm neck.

“Thank you.” You whispered, placing a soft kiss to her skin. Daisy’s protective arms held you tighter. “I’ll always be here for you y/n.” She whispered in your ear. “I love you, so, so much.” She added and felt you smile against her skin.

She always knew exactly what to say and do and you loved her for it and every other reason possible. “I love you too, Daisy Johnson.” You murmured, your thoughts finally calming down as you focused on listening to the gentle sound of her heart beating. “More than you’ll ever know.” You added a few beats later, your own breaths evening out as your eyes slipped closed and you fell into a much needed deep sleep.

[fbfh]

I genuinely agree with that recent statement.

like I know he has a motorcycle (or at least I'm pretty sure it's been a hot minute since I watched full house) but I know Jesse Katsopolis fucks, and I know car sex with him would be the best thing you've ever experienced. You just finished a wonderful date and neither of you want the night to be over yet, there's too much chemistry to waste by cutting it short. You can't go back to his place and you can't go back to your place, so you find a cozy quiet place to park and hop into the back seat and your hands are all over each other in minutes. his breath is hot against your skin and his kisses are completely addictive. you want more and more of him. from the way he moans out "have mercy..." when you slowly sink down onto his cock you know he feels the same. he has the prettiest moans too, the kind that tell you exactly what he's thinking and feeling. after another round (maybe two) as your driving back to his place to drop him off, you think you want to hook up with him again. a friend with benefits doesn't sound too bad, especially one who likes you as much as Jesse does, and is as compatable with you as he is. he kisses you good night and it makes your legs wobbly all over again. you're about to get into your car and he's about to go inside when the door opens, and a tiny blond child in a pink night gown runs out and hugs his leg. "Uncle Jesse!" he scoops her up, asking why she's not asleep yet in a softer voice than you knew he was capable of. "I wanted you to read me a bedtime story..." he chuckles and kisses her forehead, waving goodbye to you one last time before closing the door. that moment changed your brain chemistry. you spend the next six dates trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with him, but you can't find anything. there are no red flags. all that and he's good with kids?? there's no way the perfect man just fell into your lap, right??

[aybeebz]

They'd been on many little excursions, both with and without other friends to accompany them. But one thing was certain: Luigi and Daisy seemed to go off with each other more and more frequently.

It was obvious they were each quite fond of one another...or rather something more than just "fond."

Honestly, Luigi was completely smitten with Daisy. Her brashness, her confidence, her bravery... it all left him completely enamored.

So much so that he felt he didn't have the moxie to openly proclaim his adoration to her for the fear of pushing her away. If only he could muster up the courage to open his heart to her. As much as it hurt him, he'd decided not to get his hopes up of ever truly winning her over. It'd be best to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

.....

Little did he know, she had her own thoughts to share on their situation...

Luigi swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Crap, this wasn't right at all! Had he really given the impression that he was disinterested in her? It never occurred to him that she might read his attempt at modesty as a rebuttal of affections. As difficult as it was, he listened patiently as she continued.

"Then again, I know you're shy and soft spoken. Heh, hell, that's honestly one of the things I love about you. You're this sweet, sensitive, all around genuine fella... That's not something I've seen very often. That's part of what drew me to you..."

"But.... I've also noticed you seem to try to accommodate other's needs and wants... Even if it takes away from you, yourself... The last thing I'd want to do is take advantage of that. I absolutely do NOT want to drag you into something you're not interested in. So I-... I-I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I want to know your true feelings... I'd like to know formally if you'd actually..," she paused, biting her lower lip almost bashfully, "want to be in a relationship with me..."

His heart sank with every word that came out of her mouth. Because his feelings for her WERE very strong... So strong that he wasn't entirely sure how to express them verbally. Sure he hadn't made blatant statements of his affection out loud, but his reasoning was simply that...

He never actually thought his feelings would be reciprocated.

And so he kept those feelings inside, to not be known by anyone but himself. Granted, his brother could read him like a book(and vice versa), but to her? His silence was just that; Silence. Meaning now he had to clarify what his true thoughts were about this spitfire of a lady he'd grown to swoon over.

A task easier said than done.

"So please, Luigi... Spare my feelings. And be honest. How do you really feel... about me?.."

He steeled himself as he tried to think of how he wanted to word what he had to say.

"Princess, I-"

"Just Daisy."

"I- Uh?.."

She shifted her stance uncomfortably. "We're way past formalities, aren't we? Please just call me by my name."

Luigi nodded. "Y-yes, yes, you're right." He took a second to clear his throat. "Daisy... I know I've not been very, eh... Direct with you. A-And I'm so sorry for that. I never, NEVER meant to make you think that I don't enjoy your company... I actually enjoy it a lot, honestly."

He fidgeted in place for a moment, trying to assess the vibe of the space they occupied. Daisy remained in her guarded position, brows still furrowed ever slightly. A shiver went down his spine.

'The way she can intimidate a person by looks alone... What a woman~💞' he thought, briefly.

"You have this, ah...," he gestured his hands in a circle motion as he tried to think of the word, "I don't know... this presence about you that is so strong, so fierce... A-And you have this passion for living life to the fullest, facing everything head on without fear... I may not be saying this correctly but..."

"...."

"You're one of a kind, Daisy. Deserving of so much more than... than an awkward tinker that doesn't know what he's talking about... I could never imagine that someone as amazing as you are... would settle for a klutz like me..."

Her expression softened as she uncrossed her arms. "You're not a ''klutz,'' Luigi..," she chuckled, "I mean, you might be a little clumsy, maybe a little awkward, but that's not a bad thing. If anything, I find it endearing. I like that you're not perfect." She smiled up at him fondly. "... that you're authentically yourself. That's more than enough for me."

Luigi's face flushed at that last statement. It took him a second to realize he'd gone silent again. He cleared his throat again. "Okay... rambling over... You deserve to hear what I've neglected to tell you."

"And that is..?" Daisy quietly asked, eyes wide in anticipation.

Taking a long, deep breath, he gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders. He tried desperately to swallow his nerves.

"Prin- Ah-... Daisy. I... I..."

He could feel the color rush to his cheeks as he sputtered. He panicked. Why NOW of all times was he drawing a blank?

"I... I uh..."

Daisy's intense, waiting gaze didn't quite help his nerves. If anything, it made it so much harder to speak his mind.

'SAY SOMETHING YOU FOOL!!' he screamed at himself internally. There had to be some way to convey his feelings clearly!

"Um...."

......

Before he could think, his hand gently traveled up her arm, past her shoulder until it caressed her face...

and then-

His heart raced. The rush of sheer bliss that clouded his mind was unreal. To hold the woman he adored so close, so intimately was.... pure ecstasy~

But all too soon he suddenly snapped back to himself.... 'Oh no... Oh no! Did I overstep?? Was this unwarranted?? What have I done?? She's gonna be so angry with me!! I have to apologize!! Oh stars, I've ruined everything!!' his mind was flooded with thoughts of regret and embarrassment.

But before he could pull away to explain himself, to express how ashamed he was... he felt her warm hands resting atop of his wrists, steadying them. Glancing up momentarily, he realized she was leaning her weight ever so slightly into him as her soft lips pressed against his own.

She was... Kissing him back?

Huh... Maybe This was the right call after all?

His eyelids slid closed and he allowed himself to enjoy the intimate moment.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.

After a few moments, Luigi finally pulled back to look her in the eyes. With a new vigor in his demeanor, he knew exactly the words that truly described his feelings for the princess of Sarasaland.

"I love you, Daisy..."

In wonderment, she stared back at him. Then a sweet, yet sly smirk crept across her lips. "Well I'm glad the feeling's mutual... cuz I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't kiss you like that again~💕"

It seemed that FINALLY, their relationship could officially be considered solidified❤️

[konigofmyheart]

When you’re sick…

könig becomes a five star bedside nurse!

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

you need tissues? "here, liebling, got these with lotion so they don't irritate that cute nose of yours" as he's oh so delicately blotting at your runny eyes + nose. he tosses them in the bin he placed next to the bed so you don't have to get up so often.

you're throwing up? "there, there, hase, get it all out. do what you need to do. i got you." as he's soothingly rubbing your back while smoothing back your hair. he brings a cup of water to your mouth, helping you rinse out the taste and wipes your chin gently.

you're hungry? "that's great, engel! what do you want to eat? need me to pick something up or make something? whatever you want, you'll have." for every bite you eat, you earn a warm, sweet kiss to the forehead. (if it was up to him he'd kiss you right on the mouth but you don't want him to get sick as well)

there's no one more stubborn in the whole universe than he is about you taking your meds. "please, baby, for me?" of course you get more forehead kisses as a reward. what can you say, he drives a hard bargain.

and when you just need him? trust, he's there. holding you snuggly in his warm arms, staving off your shivers, cooing sweet nothings at you when you wake up between deep sleeps, begging you to “drink some more water so you'll get better quicker, schätzchen.”

he’ll do anything for you <3

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

liebling: darling

hase: bunny

engel: angel

schätzchen: baby

[the-daiz]

#The Scare

Synopsis; Telling genshin men that you're pregnant with their baby (you're not)

Genre; Crack

Characters; Arataki Itto, Gorou, Heizou, Wanderer (Scaramouche)

FEMALE!reader, and you've never done it with any of them

A/N; I don't know??? I really don't??? Im rlly bored.

You and your precious friend Yea Miko, were having a normal conversation like any other set of friends, but then the seemingly usual friendly conversation had turned into Miko daring you to do a rather hilarious thing in her perspective, and you being the daredevil that you are, you accepted the challenge rather gleefully.

—Arataki Itto

"I'm pregnant, and its yours." You blurted, holding the most gunt expression you could muster.

"Woah, dude, no way! I'm gonna have an Oni son!" A wide grin stretched across his features. "I'm gonna be an Oni dad!" You blinked at him, not expecting his rather non-cholent reaction.

"No! Arataki, I was joking!" You laughed, abandoning your facade. "We never did it before how can it be yours?" He cocked a brow in puzzelment.

"Did what before?" He asked. You let out another laugh, thinking he was simply messing around, but when you caught the look on his face that only displayed genuine confusion, your laughter ceased.

"Haha... You know... It. The... uh baby ritual...?" You awkwardly stated, your smile fading as the perplexed look on his face stretched. His eyes blew wide and his features contorted into one of surprise.

"There's a ritual to make babies?!" He exclaimed, almost excitedly.

"No... yes... When the woman gets her egg and the man gets his... thing fluid thingy..." You murmured. He gasped.

"You guys lay eggs?!" He said. Your features twisted into one of pure disbelief. "That's cool! Can we do that too?"

'This literally can't be real.' You grimaced.

—Gorou

"Hey, Gorou."  You walked into the almost inhabitant bar, sitting beside your oblivious victim.

"Oh, hello! Good to see you again." He perked up at your presence. Something close to bitterness pooled under your tongue, and perhaps the slightest hint of guilt. You cleared your throat and put on your distressed front, getting into character.

"I have something to tell you..." You looked away from him. He frowned, confused by the rather dramatic act. 

"Yeah?" He said.

"I'm pregnant." You let out, turning to look at him rather dramatically. I almost laughed when the bartender flashed an almost-knowing look.

"Oh. Congra-!"

"It's yours." You were almost astounded by how quick his face morphed into a look of sheer, utter horror. The air stilled and the atmosphere fell silent, the only sound heard wLas the bartender's uncomfortable coughing. You masked your laugh with a fake sniffle, pulling out a handkerchief from your pocket and drying your imaginary tears with it.

"HUH!?" He yelled, backing up in his seat. "It can't be mine! We never...!" 

"We did!" You exclaimed, covering your face. "We were both drunk and-"

"What!?" He yelled again, backing up even further. "No no no I don't do that, I don't get drunk."

"But it's true...! We were both sooo drunk, and then you picked me up- bridal style- and took me back to my home, then you started taking off your-" 

"Enough!!" he fell off the chair, his face growing pale.

"Oh, but Gorou dear-"

"This can't be happening." He muttered, staring at nothing. 

"Oh, dear... Can you fetch me a glass of water, please?" You turned to the bartender, who looked mildly concerned but decided it was best to mind his business. He quickly retrieved a glass of water and placed it on the counter as you kneeled down next to the Gorou and helped him up, using all your strength to quill back your chuckle.

"Let's talk about this sensibly.." You muttered as you passed him the glass of water. He quickly snatched it from your grasp, his eyes looking anywhere but at yours with his face completely flushed. 

"We both made a terrible mistake that day, and... made something else in the process..." You didn't miss how he tensed up. "But we must bare responsibility for it!"

"Right... You're right.." He sighed, his gaze still averted from yours. "But are you sure you're pregnant? and are you sure it's mine!?!?" He desperately asked.

"Yes, I am sure, I haven't slept with any other man." You confessed. "Anyway, onto the matter at hand, I've already decided what we're going to name it!"

"Huh...?" He gawked at you, telepathically asking if you were being serious. "B-but we still need to figure out other things!! Like- do we get married!? and if we don't what do we tell the others!? and- oh archons... what am I going to tell her excellency...?" He clutched at his hair.

"Oh, that's just unnecessary details." You waved your hand dismissively at him.

"But-"

"So I was thinking, if it's a boy we're going to name him, 'You've been', and if it was a girl we'd name her 'Pranked'."

His mouth fell agape.

—Heizou

"I'm pleased to have you invite me to your humble abode, but I do have some business to attend to soon so I might have to leave... soon..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Why the long face?" You shook your head.

"Don't worry about it, please have a seat" You patted the empty space on the couch next to you, and he gladly guided himself to his assigned seat. You pulled both his hands in yours prompting him to properly face you.

"Heizou, I have to tell you something very important." You stated, giving him a stern look.

"Go right ahead, I'm all ears." He flashed you another one of his charismatic smiles.

"I'm pregnant, and it's yours." His expression sure did change, but you couldn't tell what thought laid behind his deadpanned eyes.

"...Um? Heizou?" You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

"Ah! Yes! well... um..." He pursed his lips together as glanced at something behind you.

You gasped as he jumped up from his seat and sprinted past you, leaping out of your window and scurrying away from your home. 

"YOU BASTARD!!" You yelled out from your window. "This makes me think like he's done this to someone else before..."

—Wanderer (In other words, Scaramouche)

You sucked in a breath as the man covered in striking blue attire stared at your form, his expression full of disdain. He doesn't appreciate his precious time being wasted by some mortal, however, he doesn't hold much resentment toward you to shoo you away.

"Thank you for hearing me out." You said.

"Yeah yeah, just get on with it." He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms.

"I'm pregnant... and it's yours." You revealed, your eyes downcast. You slowly peaked your eyes up when the infamous wanderer kept silent for longer than expected, and was greated by a judgmental glare.

"What do you take me for?? an idiot?" He hissed, his scowl deepening.

"Whatever do you mean?" You placed a hand over your chest.

"You think I can't see through your facade??" He glared.

"I don't understand-"

"I'm a puppet, (Y/n), for Archon's sake! I don't produce semen." He waved his hand out in exaggeration, showcasing his frustration. Your lips parted then clamped shut, realization setting in.

"Oh..." You scratched your cheek. "I didn't think of that..."

"I can't believe you wasted my time for this."

[daisyofwaterdeep]

[Accidental Confessions]

!NSFW! Rolan/Femcis Reader Mutual Pining, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex 5.3k

Rolan accidentally spills a love potion on himself. When you come to visit him, he can't hold himself back.

~~~ Being an employee at Sorcerous Sundries has it's perks--getting to hang out with Loroakan's new apprentice being one of them. You often muster up the courage to chat with Rolan during work hours, and though he seems stiff and nervous at first, he quickly warms to the environment. But when the beatings start, he starts withdrawing again. You try to talk to him about it, you show concern and worry, but he bats it all down with a few curt words. It absolutely breaks your heart. And then Loroakan dies. Rolan is busier than ever--you hardly ever see him at the ground floor, but that's fine by you, because when you do see him, he's happy. Tired and overworked, sure, but so happy that your heart aches with your own happiness. You do get a chance to chat with Cal and Lia quite often, and you live off of the scraps that they nonchalantly give you about their brother. How he can be quite stubborn. How he's a picky eater. How he snores. All of these tiny little glimpses of Rolan, filling out your fantasies of what life could be like, if only you had the courage to actually confess. When Cal and Lia are out of town, though, you try to check on Rolan a few times a day, bringing him food and drink, because you know he would forget to nourish himself otherwise. Even though he's neck deep in work, he always expresses appreciation with a soft smile during these moments. You tell yourself that it's all you need.

But one of these visits goes quite differently.

You worry your hands over your dress one last time before you go through the portal, a tray of tea and cake in hand (you always try to indulge Rolan's sweet tooth when you can). Rolan doesn't appear to be on the first floor, and a quick glance at the desks on the various balconies brings up nothing. Wondering if he may have slipped out while you were busy downstairs, you carefully make your way up the nearest set of stairs to get a better look, pondering if you should call out his name.

But then you hear him-- a low, pained groan, followed by hurried breathing. Your head turns to the sound, and you spot a pair of feet from behind several stacks of books on the ground.

"Master Rolan?" You hurry over, tea sloshing. It looks that he had been removing all the books from one of the shelves, likely to sort and catalog them. Did he fall and hurt himself?

Worry clots your throat as you round the stacks and he fully comes into view at your feet. He's got his back propped against the half-empty bookshelf, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands clawing weakly at his robes. And his face-- well, you don't really know what to make of it. He looks to be in pain, but even with his furrowed brow and panting mouth, you know in your core that that's not entirely correct.

"R-Rolan!" You nearly throw the tray down as you fall to your knees beside him, hands fluttering over his heaving chest, not sure what's going on or what you can do to help.

Rolan's eyes flick up, as if only just noticing your presence. The rest of his body seems desperate, out of control, but his eyes...they're assured, steady, unblinking. And, you note with a chill, they're almost entirely black. His pupils have blown so wide that only the smallest sliver of gold rings around them, like an eclipse. "You," Rolan gasps, his hands stopping their incessant grabbing of his own clothes to grab at you instead, "Of course it's you..." He gives a short bark of a laugh that dwindles into a breathy sigh as his arms wrap around your back, drawing you close with a surprising strength, "It's always been you, hasn't it?" Being pulled into an impromptu hug by Rolan would have sent you into a tizzy in any other circumstance, but right now you know that you can't be distracted by your own feelings. Something is wrong, very wrong, and Rolan isn't in his right mind. What was he even talking about? Are you the cause of this, somehow?

"M-Master Rolan," You try to pull free from his grip, and as much as it pains you mentally to do such a thing, it seems to be nothing compared to the wounded sound that Rolan makes when you finally wrestle free.

"Please," Rolan begs, dark eyes never leaving yours, his hands still on your sides, "Don't leave me, I--" Rolan bares his teeth as he fights to catch his breath, "Something...something's wrong."

The absolute desperation written across his face has your own breath struggling to come and go.

"What happened?" As you say it you grab his hands, ignoring the little thrill it gives you, and hold them between the two of you. "Talk to me, Rolan. Are you hurt?"

"Hurt..." Rolan's head hangs but his eyes are still on your face, as if it's his duty to look at you, "It hurts, yes--" He groans, a mixture of pain and aggravation, and his back arches away from the bookcase as he draws your hands to his chest with a near painful grip. "Please touch me, touch me..."

You're too flabbergasted to fight back as your hands are forcibly dragged down his torso. Rolan moans at the contact, as if the touch is all that he's needed. Even through the fabric of his robes, you can feel him-- the hard ridges of his infernal ribcage, then the softness of his stomach, and then-- You yank your hands away before they get lower, heat flooding your face and cold waves of shock wracking your frame.

He's turned on. The revelation smashes into you like a hammer to the back of the head. There's no way, right? Rolan, strong, proud, perfect Rolan is currently writhing beside you with need. Your crush, your infatuation, your beautiful, unattainable daydream of a man...There's no way that he's currently drawing your hands back down, bringing them to the distinct outline that presses from under his robes, and it even gives a twitch as he catches you noticing it.

"Please?" Rolan's voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper as he stops your hands right above his erection, "Please, just...a little, I only need a little bit..." His hands squeeze your own as he pleads.

Your body is covered in goosebumps and you can feel your thundering heartbeat in your throat...and between your legs. But despite that, you know you can't take advantage of the situation. It would be too easy to give in, to touch him in all the ways you've fantasized, but you know just how wrong that would be. Because you know there’s something else at play here. Rolan isn’t like this–he would never lose his faculties in such a way.

"I-I can't."

His face goes slack, a look of completely devastated disbelief. You squeeze his hands back, trying to ignore the pang of guilt at making him look so, so heartbreakingly sad.

"Rolan, please listen." You clear your throat as his eyes look unwaveringly into yours. "You're not yourself. You don't want me. You're under the influence of something--a spell, or maybe a potion..."

Rolan shakes his head as you speak, first softly, then with more force, denying everything that you say.

"Yes, Rolan." You say firmly. "Please, I need you to think. You were clearing this shelf before I came in, weren't you? Did you open an odd book, scroll, anything?"

"No, you need to listen." The helpless desperation that Rolan's been soaked in up until this point disappears in an instant. His body stiffens as he sits up, sharp claws digging into the tender skin of your wrists as he pulls your hands to his chest. You can feel the hectic speed of his heart. "I want you," He groans and licks his lips, eyes darting down to your mouth for a brief moment before locking back onto your eyes with a fiery resolve, "I've wanted you for so long." He grimaces, eyes glossy with emotion, "Please. Please believe me."

Oh, he's making this very, very difficult. The sincerity that drips from every word threatens to swallow you into this fantasy-- but that's what this is. Some manufactured fantasy spun by some incredibly potent magic.

But even still, your resolve is wearing down, and fast.

You have to get help, but the risk of ruining Rolan's reputation puts you in a very tricky predicament. You can't go and fetch just anyone. If word gets out about this, Rolan would surely be embarrassed. Perhaps Tolna is still downstairs...she might be able to help?

You raise up on one knee, making to leave, but your foot connects with something on the floor. You snap your head to the side just in time to see a potion bottle roll unceremoniously across the carpet. It's uncorked, but the tapered neck has kept some of the contents inside-- a nearly translucent pink liquid sloshes inside of it before it connects with the handrail of the stairs with a small clink.

So it was a potion, after all. Even if you knew that Rolan was under the influence of something, there's the tiniest part of you that feels hurt. Crushed by your own naivety. Even if you know that it's a ludicrous notion--Rolan would never bother with someone like you, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn't be like this-- there was some thread of hope there, somewhere deep in your heart, that maybe he really did feel something for you.

But of course not. Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Did you drink that?" You turn back to Rolan and try to gesture to the bottle with your hand, but Rolan still has it in a death-grip. You nod towards it with your head instead. "Why would you do something like that?"

"What?" Rolan huffs, eyes never leaving your face, "What are you...?" He grimaces and tugs at your hands, a note of frustration furrowing his brow, "Are you teasing me?" That causes a flicker of happiness to light up his face, easing the tension from his jaw, "You're toying with me, aren't you?" And again his face shifts, taking on that serious edge of desperation he had before, his voice falling to an intimate hush, "You want me to beg for you, don't you? I can beg for you, if that's what you wish--whatever you want."

He's hardly making any sense-- you're really not sure if he's just too far gone to remember, or if he really didn't drink it. You can't think of why he would take such a potent love potion, so perhaps it fell on him while he was clearing the shelf....that makes far more sense. And with Loroakan being the bastard that he was, it doesn't surprise you in the slightest that he'd have something so nefarious on hand.

The story starts to fall into place, as well as a course of action. You need to take the potion bottle downstairs. Hopefully Tolna will still be at her counter, but if not, you can run over to the nearby apothecary. Once the potion is identified, you can get an antidote, and then everything will be okay.

But first...you have to pry yourself free from Rolan. That might be the most monumental task of all. But you have a little plan for that as well.

"Rolan," He perks up as you say his name, a small, hopeful smile shaking on his lips. "I need you to stay here, okay?"

"No." This smile disappears just as quickly as it had appeared. He shakes his head like a petulant child, sweating palms pressing your hands more firmly against his chest, "You're not leaving me."

"Just for a moment," You assure him, forcing a calm, even tone. "You said you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"

"Not this," Rolan frowns so hard that his chin dimples and his eyes shine with desperation. You realize that he's on the verge of tears. "Y-you can't leave me..." His eyes rake over your face, looking for any shred of mercy, before he hoarsley croaks out, "Please."

Oh gods. This might not just be a monumental task--it's shaping up to be an impossible one.

It's time to switch gears. Playing the calm, collected one isn't getting you a single inch, but playing his game might get you somewhere.

And it's for Rolan's sake. Completely for his sake. You aren't doing it for your own desires. Just merely...playing the game.

"Listen to me...darling." Your voice trembles at the edges and prickles of heat bloom on your face and chest, "I need you to be good and stay right here." You swallow thickly before adding, "You want to be good for me, don't you?"

The groan that leaves Rolan nearly fogs your brain completely over. He leans his head back against the shelf, his horns clacking dully against the wood and his adam's apple jerking roughly as the noise from his throat dwindles into a low, needy whine.

"Please," He pants, body rolling up in a pseudo-thrust before collapsing back to the ground in a mess of shivers, "Good boy...I'm your good boy..."

Such a simple phrase, and such a strong reaction...the excitement that wracks through your body is so potent that you actually feel numb.

No. No. You have to rein yourself in. You can't let yourself get swept up in Rolan's condition. If you took advantage of him right now, he would never forgive you. Fuck, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.

"Th-that's right." You hurriedly say, mouth dry, "Be good for me, and stay right here." The squeak of your voice diminishes any sort of authority you hope to convey, but it's the best you can muster.

You've still got one foot on the floor and make to stand up fully, hoping the action will finally pry your hands free of Rolan's grasp--

"No!"

The force of the word is only matched by the force of which you're pushed back, tumbling to the floor unceremoniously and landing on your bottom. A shocked exclamation leaves you, but it's jerked from your lungs as Rolan pounces you, his full weight knocking you flat on the floor and pinning you.

All at once, the dynamic has shifted into something far more dangerous. Rolan's hair is falling out of it's neatly styled coif and frames his face as he looks down at you, a predatory glaze shining in his dark eyes. With his hair obscuring the light on his face, the angles look much more severe, and the gold of his irises damn near glow with their intensity.

What do you do? Do you fight back? Cold, brittle panic rises in your throat as you realize just what sort of position you're in. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in, and your legs have been rendered useless with his knees between them.

"Don't leave me," Even if his position gives him dominance, his voice is still pleading, desperate. "I-I need you. So please..."

"Rolan," You say carefully, voice tight, "Don't do anything you'll regret." You think to put your hands on his chest to keep him at bay, but fear touching him might send him into a frenzy.

"Regret...?" Rolan searches your face, trying to glean more understanding but seeming to come up short. "I don't regret adoring you."

He truly doesn't seem to understand the situation he's put you in. And perhaps you don't either, because your heart beats faster at his words, magic-induced as they may be. The initial fear you felt is now melting away into an uncertain excitement-- Rolan is on top of you, his knees pressed against your inner thighs, his lips parted and eyes glimmering with admiration. How many times have you dreamt of just this? How easy it would be to believe his sweet words, to believe that the man above you truly does want you.

"You don't." You're not sure if you're saying it more for his sake or yours. "Rolan, you don't adore me. You've been drugged and aren't thinking clearly." The words taste bitter, but you suppose truth often can be.

Rolan growls in frustration, and you hear his tail smack against something behind him.

"Why don't you believe me?" There's tension in his face, but it loosens as he shakes his head slowly, "What do I need to say for you to believe me?"

"You don't--"

"I do." Rolan drops from his hands onto his forearms, bringing your faces mere inches apart, "Fiercely."

Feeling his hot breath mixing with your own has your mind clouding over. All you can muster is the same two words.

"You don't..."

"Every day I look forward to you bringing me tea. To the point that I've been getting less work done, just waiting to see you." Rolan exhales harshly, in something like a disbelieving laugh, "Sometimes, I'll come downstairs just to watch you work. Just to catch another glimpse of you."

There's been plenty of times when you've been in the shop and caught him on the second floor balcony, but had he really been watching you? You'd always be too flustered to do nothing more than a cursory look before awkwardly continuing your work.

You don't have time to ponder it for too long because Rolan pushes on, his eyes commanding your attention with their fiery glow.

"I spend so many days sitting at my desk thinking of your smile....gods, and your laugh." He smiles at the memory, a soft, tender look that makes your stomach tumble, "The way your nose crinkles when you're really laughing. And the way you always fuss with your hair after you set a stack of books down."

Do you really do that?

Rolan's smile eases away. "And during everything with Loroakan, you always made sure I ate. And the washbasin under the desk-- you put that there for me, didn't you? So I could clean up after his beatings." His jaw clenches and a brief storminess darkens his eyes before softening, "You cared for me during that time, even when I pushed you away… I was horrible to you."

"You weren't horrible," You whisper, afraid your emotion will break your voice if you raise it any higher than this, "You were going through a lot."

He had been talking so coherently that you had almost forgotten the current situation, but reality comes crashing back when he whines deep in his throat and his body rocks above you.

"I don't deserve you," Rolan's body trembles and his eyes shine as they glance down at your lips, "You've shown me such kindness, and in return, I do nothing but defile you in my thoughts..."

His words catch you off guard to such an extent that you gasp--a breathy, deep noise that ignites Rolan's eyes. You've made a mistake. A very, very bad one.

"That's right," Rolan is matching your whisper now, body still impatiently rocking above you, "Every night I lie in bed thinking of you. Aching for you. You, under me... just like this." A groan rumbles deep in his chest and his nostrils flare, "Imagining how you'd say my name as I touch you. Taste you--" He practically hisses the word out as his body trembles, "Fucking my hand, wishing it was your pretty cunt stretched around me..."

"Rolan--" You practically wheeze, liquid fire rushing into your stomach as your hips jerk up from the floor, like they have a mind of their own.

"Yessss, ahh-- j-just like that," Rolan's eyes roll closed and his chest brushes yours as he lowers down. When his eyes flick back open, he almost seems like a different man. Starved-- that's the word that comes to your mind, and it's an apt one, with the way the tip of his tongue dips out and curls, as if tasting the air between you two. "Again...say it again."

Don't. Don't do it. Do not stoke the fire. The warning’s buzzing through your brain, but there's a larger presence in your thoughts, chanting for him to do something. To prove that he wants you. To make good on all of his sordid fantasies. Even if it's all a lie, even if it's the potion's spell, you want it. Even if you shouldn't, you do. But somehow, you're still hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

When it's clear that you aren't going to say his name, Rolan whines deep in his throat and you can hear his claws scrape against the carpet on either side of you. It seems that he's holding onto the same thread.

"Please," Rolan leans down and brushes a heated kiss against your lips, "Fuck, please--" Another kiss, "Please, please..."

He's kissing you. It's not a daydream, even if the warmth and softness of his lips don't feel real to you. All you can do is lay there, slack, your brain rapid-firing with the sensations. The hot, hurried puffs of his breath from his mouth. The tickles of his hanging hair on the sides of your cheeks. The press of his perfect nose against the side of your own.

Even if your shock-induced limpness is both involuntary and possibly the best course of action, it backfires on you almost immediately.

As Rolan's kisses grow firmer, his lips push yours open, making the wetness of your inner lip catch on his own. That little touch of heated moisture has Rolan mewling, and all at once, his tongue is inside your mouth.

Your eyes fly open (wait, when had they closed?) and your hands come up to Rolan's chest to push him away, but his muscles are taut and he's locked in place, his hot, hungry tongue pressing past your teeth to lick along your own tongue. The muffled sound you make is a mixture of panic and surprise, but Rolan seems to take it as pleasure with the way he moans in response.

But maybe he's not too far off the mark. Even if you want to deny it, his tongue is divine. The way it tastes, the velvet feel of it, the way it pushes in deep before pulling away with a wet roll of his lips, only to enter you again. It's like your mouth is being fucked by him, and it's all you can do to not tip completely into ecstacy.

"Stop--" You try to break the kiss by turning your head, but his mouth only finds the curve of your neck, "Stop, Ro--aah!" His sharp bottom teeth drag roughly under your jaw before being soothed with a hot, desperate lick. "Stop," You gasp, though your hands ball into his robes, begging him not to, "R-Rolan, you have to--"

Your words choke off into a shameful whine as Rolan finally gives in and lowers his body to press against yours. He slots in perfectly between your legs, his hard cock pressed firm against your aching sex. The both of you stiffen and freeze, as if mesmerized by the mutual throbbing you can feel from underneath your clothes.

"O-oh," Rolan almost looks drunk with the way his head sways and his eyes glaze over, "Oh g-gods...I can't--"

It should be a comfort to hear. At the brink of ruin, Rolan has managed to regain himself. But the sigh you let out--from relief or disappointment, you're not sure which-- is cut off on a choked gasp as Rolan yanks the bottom of your dress up.

"Wait--" Your hands fall between you both, tangling in your dress as you try to pull it back down, "Wait, R-Rolan!"

It's like he can no longer hear you. His shaking hands push the front of his robe to the side and nearly snaps the lacings of his pants as he tears them open. You only get a glimpse of his cock before he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing the heated length of it against your panties. But what a glimpse it was-- thick, ridged, and damn near maroon with how blood-swollen it is.

Your mind reels as you're assaulted both physically and mentally with Rolan's body. The heavy drag of his erection against your clothed pussy. The soft scrape of teeth and wet heat of his tongue trailing down your neck to your chest. And the sounds Rolan is making-- he's groaning with such intensity that it rumbles in your ribs.

"I can't..." Rolan says again, but after another grumbling moan, he finally finds the remainder of his words, "I can't hold back anymore..." He raises his head with a lust-drunk sway to lock eyes with you once more, his brow bunched with his desperation and loose strands of his hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead "I need you--fuck, I need you."

You want to get lost in those words, to savor the soft, needy delivery of them, to pretend that they were said under less dire circumstances, but you have no time for any of that. Because as soon as Rolan says it, his hand darts between you both and yanks your panties to the side and then you feel the maddening heat of his cock against the bare wetness of your pussy.

You try to cry out, but the sudden blast of fear racking through you grips your throat, only allowing a pitiful squeak to escape.

Please--" Rolan begins rutting into you, hips grinding fast and hungry, spreading your lips with his ministrations and easily gliding through the slick that's drenched your sex, "Wet, oh gods, so fucking wet--" He's babbling now, his words shifting between low groans and high, tight whimpers, "Wet for me-- you need this too, don't you? You need me...oh gods, need me to fuck you, f-fuck your pretty cunt, please--"

The head of his cock catches on your entrance, and you feel a pulse of hot liquid shoot from him, dribbling down your ass. Then all at once, he's inside you. It happens at a dizzying speed-- the deep burn of being stretched quick and full, the hot gush of semen, the snapping hips dragging you across the carpet in hiccuped jumps, the claws that grab and tear and sting your arms, all the while Rolan weeps, crumbling his body weight entirely on you.

"No," Rolan gasps in big, aching breaths as he sobs into your shoulder, "Nonono, I c-can't--" Hot tears fall on your neck, "Forgive me, p-please, forgive me--"

He raises his head and looks at you, his face twisted in equal parts despair and adoration, wet tear streaks carving shining paths down his gaunt cheeks. It's a direct contrast to the beastial breeding of his hips-- lovestruck emotion against mindless, animalistic instinct. And there's pain there, too. He came almost immediately, but his body just won't let him stop. His cock is still stiff and slamming into your cunt, the wetness of your sexes sucking and slapping lewdly under the chorus of his whimpers and cries.

A sob of your own retches from your throat. It's all too much. Even if it hurts, the churn of his desperate hips grinds against your clit with delicious abandon. And the way his hard cock curves and roughly drags inside of you, reaching so much farther than fingers ever could, stroking your walls with greedy need. It's all terrible in the most exquisite way-- the pain a sear, but the pleasure a rolling wave of heat that grows thicker and deeper with every thrust.

You're disgusted with yourself, even as you wrap your arms around Rolan's back and your heart sings with the warmth of his cheek against your own. You shouldn't be enjoying this. It was your responsibility to not let things get this far. But you wanted it. From the moment you knew what was happening, a part of you wanted exactly this. To have him cling onto you and tell you all the sweet things you've fantasized about countless times. To fuck you.

"Sorry," Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper as the heated tension in your gut begins tipping through your body-- "I-I'm so s-sorry, R-Rolan--"

And then your world shatters away as your orgasm is wrenched from you. Every synapse in your brain goes cold and your body shakes and tightens, his name cried out through numb lips as you clench hard around him, your body as desperate as your mind to keep him right where he is. Rolan. Rolan. Rolan. Every part of your being is consumed by him in that moment, and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists, other than him.

"That's it," Rolan's voice finds you in your pleasure-haze and enhances it with it's sweet tremble, "That's it, yes--fuck, ahh-- please, love you," He buries himself in you and stills, lips meeting yours as he babbles and his cock twitches and throbs deep in your cunt, "I love you, o-oh-- love you, please--"

Your climax had begun it's descent, but the feeling of those words sighed into your mouth makes another rush of rapture overtake you. You're only somewhat aware of the way you mewl, a wounded noise that dwindles and rises as your tongue finds Rolan's once more. Even with the hard edge of his desires satisfied, Rolan kisses you with no less passion, his moans of relief rattling your bones with their sheer intensity.

You could happily lay there kissing him like this for eternity, but now that the warmth of your desire is ebbing away, reality is setting back in. Disgust curdles in your stomach, sapping away any last dredges of an afterglow that remained.

You turn your head to break the kiss and Rolan pulls back, his eyes still uncharacteristically dark but more level than they had been since you found him. But with the beginning return of his facilities, you can't help but feel that he looks...lost. You can see the weight of the situation slowly creeping over him-- the distress. But even still, there's still heat behind those despairing eyes. The understanding of what's happening, but not the strength to stop himself.

"D...do you feel better?" You croak out, your throat feeling a wreck.

Rolan's lips move, but his voice fails him. For the first time, his eyes willingly leave your face, focusing instead on the carpet beside you. "It...hurts." He finally manages, his words so soft that they're almost inaudible.

That's enough to finally move you into action. Your entire body aches as you gently guide him off of you, the both of you hissing as his cock slips from you with a wet squelch. Rolan makes no effort to get up, instead rolling onto his back to look up at the high ceiling of the tower. You can't help but think that he looks gorgeous like this--chest heaving, hair in disarray, cock still twitching and stiff and slick with you. And then the disgust comes back and propels you to your feet.

"Sorry," You stammer, a fresh bout of tears threatening to spill down your face, "I'll...I'll get help."

Rolan whines deep in the back of his throat before he can stop himself. He drapes a hand over his eyes, like he wishes to shut out the world.

"Please," He gasps, voice gravelly with suppressed emotion, "Hurry."

You start to walk down the stairs you had ascended only shortly before. Each trembling step you take brings you a fraction more into reality. Regret, horror, revulsion....they build in your gut with each passing moment. By the time you make it to the other side of the portal, you're running from the tower, wishing you had never gone up to begin with.

[onyourowndaisymae]

trick or treat! can i get a treat with obey me satan? romantic preferred pleaseee 💜🖤🧡

"so i just... take a bite?"

"yeah sure, go ahead. i wanna see how you like it."

satan's eyes flicker down to the apple in his hand one last time before his teeth sink into the flesh. a burst of semi-familiar flavor washes over his tastebuds. tart, almost sour-- not bitter in the way like princess's poison apples were at times-- with an underlying sweetness that made his jaw tighten. his immediate instinct is to dislike the taste. but as he stands there and ruminates on the flavor, eyes darting up to your expectant expression, he finds himself overall enjoying the more mild experience than the harsh bite of poison apple.

"it's different."

"it is," you agree. "apples in the human realm aren't as aggressive on the senses."

"it's..." the words fumble around satan's mouth before trickling out in hesitant bursts. "almost like... when you cook devildom apples down for pie. that sweetness..." he pauses again, pensive.

"i get what you're saying, yeah." you smile. "maybe we can bake some pie with human apples when we get home and compare them to devildom cooking?"

a heat spreads across his cheeks before he can even process how soft that makes him feel. the sentiment of that simple offer-- of this whole day-- is so incredibly touching that he starts to feel embarrassed.

apple picking in the human realm. such a mundane experience. yet when satan off-handedly mentioned he used to enjoy going to the orchard as a young demon figuring out his likes and interests, you arranged this date to an orchard in your realm. an exchange of culture, a pointed effort to quiet his curiosity and let him explore someplace new by your side.

oh, how he adores you so. his chest tightens at the thought, and heat spreads through his whole body in an instant. you are one of the best things to happen to a demon like him-- to think he's lucky enough to stand by your side in the graying autumn skies is enough to make his heart pound in his eardrums.

satan's fingers reach forward to intertwine with your own, gaze flitting up to meet yours before he looks off.

"yeah. i'd like that."

[slytherhys]

Night Daisies & Other Excuses - A drabble

A/N: just a silly drabble because a friend gave me this idea and I just had to write something. | divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Azriel hears a twig snap, followed by a sweet, lovely gasp falling from Elain’s lush lips. Her arms tighten around his arm - where they’ve been wrapped around for at least twenty minutes now – and she presses her body further against his side in an attempt to keep still.

Not that he’s complaining. Every whiff of her scent - heady jasmine and sweet honey – nearly brings him to his knees and he has to keep reminding himself that he should be helping her, showing her what he had promised her.

“Do you think it’s close by?” She asks, eyes wide as they stare between the trees, the shadows of night concealing nearly everything.

But not the Cervus Nox – never the Night Court’s native deer.

“There it is.” He murmurs, not able to hide the wonder in his voice. He watches as the deer’s eyes pin him down as it tries to assess a threat. Azriel keeps still, refusing to scare it off before Elain gets a good look at it.

Elain inhales deeply, body nearly shaking with excitement (and he’d know since he can feel it trembling against his side) and he can’t blame her. The deer’s coat is a translucent white, as if painted to reflect moonlight itself; its antlers are wide and tall, onyx so dark they nearly blend into the night. Its eyes sparkle in the night, and Azriel is oddly reminded of his High Lord.

“It’s beautiful.” Elain whispers in awe, squeezing his arm in thanks as she beams up at him. Before he can dismiss her thanks – really, he was delighted to be the one showing her everything the Night Court had to offer – Elain was rising to the tips of her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Azriel goes still, his brain scrambling to find something, anything to say. He clears his throat, aware that Elain is watching him carefully.

“Have you ever heard about the Night Daisies? They grow on a valley just south of the Illyrian Mountains."  He has never felt as thankful for the wildlife of the Night Court as he is tonight. "Perhaps we could try and go see them tomorrow night.” Azriel suggested, pretending the whole time he didn’t just want an excuse to spend more time near her.

Elain smiled softly, the majestic deer all but forgotten as she stared at Azriel instead. “I would love to.” She agreed promptly - pretending the whole time she didn’t have any Night Daises in her garden.

[amethystpath-writes]

Entertainment

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“I don’t love you,” Hero said. “I won’t love you, even though they all suspect it.”

“Isn’t it disappointing?” Villain asked.

Hero only hummed in question. She felt serene despite the storm brewing in her mind. For now, she would listen.

“To make another human your source of entertainment? You are televised. You don’t see your shepherds now, but there is a show playing in their minds during this very moment. You. Naked in my bed- as if we could ever be lovers. A scandal- because no one can ever be good enough. Nobody is allowed to be The Hero. That person, should they ever arise, must always be eradicated.”

Villain stared at the night sky from the park bench, swollen and wet from the rain which had passed. The dark clouds above appeared so thick that they stretched across space, blocking even the moon from seeing her subjects below. Another storm was being pushed through. “They wait for the day you’re found out- living out any trope that serves them, even if it’s not true of your life at all. Enemies to lovers.” He scoffed. “The new fad. Unfortunate for them, I hate you,” he said, and his eyes never left the stormy clouds. “We are not their love story, and I’ll spite you at every turn for making them think this rivalry could turn to such. Tell me, why did you decide to become their next victim, hero?”

“You make it sound like I wanted them to call me a traitor under their breaths.” Her voice held no contempt. She was too tired for that- for anything besides a quietly piqued interest. “I don’t want to betray them. I fight you because they don’t have the ability to. It’s all for them. It has always been for them.”

“And yet”- Villain shrugged- “what have they done for you? Spread rumors? Spoken to teen entertainment vlogs about their accounts on witnessing our ‘dates’? None of it is real. I tell myself I’m fighting for something, but the truth is, none of us are. Not even you, though you think your purpose is to oppose me- to oppose evil and all that is ill. It’s not.”

Progressively, Hero felt the tips of her ears warming- a deep contrast compared to the cold air around her. “I don’t entertain them.”

“You serve them. Is that phrasing any more to your liking?”

She couldn’t argue that. Hero did serve her community- by fighting Villain, by bringing justice to him. Or…trying to at least. The rumors came with their own consequences. She was outcasted. No one trusted her even though she never gave them a reason to distrust her. Hero fought Villain. That was all she ever did, but one person got it into their head that maybe- just maybe- they weren’t fighting at all. Maybe Hero and Villain were living a fairytale. Maybe they were an item and the fights were all a facade so at least one of them would be praised.

Still, it had nothing to do with entertainment. Hero didn’t want to think of it that way. If she did, it meant she did all of this for nothing. She had no purpose. She wasted her time, energy, and effort.

“Why did we meet here?” It was going to start raining again, and Hero was already shivering. She only met him tonight because doing so meant he was with her, in sight, and unproductive in his schemes. He volunteered her as a distraction; she wasn’t smart enough to say no.

“We might only be a means of entertainment, but I’ve learned to appreciate the act. You and I are not friends, but they think so. There’s a camera- over there…” He pointed to a tree, and Hero cursed under her breath. “And it’s been filming us the entire time. Having casual conversation on a stormy night where no one else would dare relax. Nice and private- though cold, but we’re willing to sacrifice that warmth if it means being together, right?”

“You set me up.” Here she thought she was allowing herself to distract him, but it was his plan all along. Of course he wasn’t wanting to fix this problem. “You said you were tired of the rumors, Villain. That’s why we were here, to lay them to rest.”

Villain laughed and finally looked to Hero. His eyes trailed to her ears, all red from her frustration. It irritated her even more and she untucked her hair. “You aren’t just their entertainment, Hero. You’re mine, too.” He muttered, “So easy.”

She wanted to argue: I’m not your entertainment; I’m Im no one’s, but it would only prove him right. Looking at his smile now, Hero regretted even pulling her hair from behind her ears.

I can fight him now. The camera would see it and the people would know that the two were not lovers at all. But again, she’d be amusing him. Right now, he was expecting her to make a move, to- to retaliate, if only to entertain him more. Yet, if she didn’t do anything, the tape he had now would only confirm in the community’s mind that she was a scandal. Untrue and unfit for being their voice. Would they arrest her?

“I’m all you have now. Your only security.”

Hero shook her head. “No. That’s not true.”

“Then who else do you have?”

The sky was sprinkling now. Fat cold raindrops touched on Hero’s shoulders and she shivered. “They’ll believe me,” she said, though it came out as a whisper. Still, Villain heard.

“Do they believe you now?”

No.

“If you are not with me, you are nothing but a bad face to them. I can give you a new identity. I can give you a new start, one where you can be the one entertained- not them.”

His hand touched her face. She flinched. When had she closed her eyes and when had he stood from the park bench? When did the sprinkling of them sky become thin, pelting drops?

It stung: his hand, the rain, the biting cold, the realization that she was running out of options.

“I don’t need your help.”

“They’ll arrest you. Treason,” he said, and rubbed his thumb across Hero’s cheekbone. “Isn’t that the highest punishable crime?”

Was it? She wasn’t sure.

He was scaring her.

He was scaring her, and it was working so well that she felt herself sweating despite also quivering in the downpour.

His fingers wrapped under her chin while his other hand rested on her shoulder. “I can help.”

“You’re the reason I’m in this position!” Hero tried to rip away, but Villain stopped her with a heavy grip. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want your help.”

“You put yourself in this position by fighting something you had no right mind fighting. You were unprepared, Hero. Ill-advised.” His thumb strummed her cheek again, calming, manipulative. “I only helped you realize.”

The drop on her cheek was warm- a tear, not a raindrop. “You told me we’re not friends.”

“No. I pity you.” The hand on her shoulder fell and Villain wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her into a hug. Instinctively, she turned her head against his chest. His shirt was soaked and cold, but it was comfortable. She stayed, forgetting entirely who he was.

When had the heat left her ears? Was it when the rain started or when she laid her head on his chest? “We’re not friends,” she said, but as she stood in the pouring rain, cheek pressed against Villain’s wet shirt, she couldn’t imagine leaving. Let them have their entertainment, she almost said, but no. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Almost seeming to read her thoughts, Villain asked, “Who else do you have, Hero? Stand with me in this rain; let it wash away the hero you tried to be, and start anew.”

Thunder crackled across the sky. Hero remained silent. Enemies…lovers…amusement…what did it matter? She was comfortable in the rain, comfortable in the cold. “Will you delete the footage if I agree?”

He hummed.

“Delete it,” she begged, though her head never left his chest. “I want to start over. I would do anything.”

“Will,” Villain corrected. “I have some ideas for you.”

For now, they would leave the open sky, full of lightning and threatened existences. They would leave, and Hero would cry, grieve over her attempted heroism, and look to Villain- of all people- for a shoulder to cry on.

And as all villains do, he would take advantage of her, warp her mind, make her believe that she was wrong to be a hero, that she was a source of entertainment, though we, dear audience, know she was an inspiration all along.

[allisluv]

stargazing with karen sikro for flufftober

flufftober — day one

pairing: karen sirko x fem!reader

content warnings: a secret established relationship cause it’s the 70’s and i assume you know how most people felt about gay people back then. maybe one innuendo and feelings of anxiety around being in love with a girl but that's it!

summary: your girlfriend, karen, wakes you up in the middle of the night to see if you’ll stargaze with her

word count: 400

A/N: sorry this is later than planned my laptop broke! please don’t forget to reblog please! <3

Karen tip-toes across the landing and into your bedroom, where she closes the door as quietly as humanly possible. The last thing she wants to do is wake up your band-mates--- call her selfish, but she wants this moment to be between you and her, not the six other people who live in this house.

She crouches down beside your single bed, committing your features to memory for a few moments before she reaches out and gently shakes you. "Darling," she mutters, watching your lashes kiss your cheekbones as you blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"Karen?" You mumble, still stuck in that haze between being awake and being asleep. Her delicate fingers dance across your face and you keen into her touch. "Are you ok? What's wrong, baby?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, gorgeous," she apologises. "It's just... nothing, go back to sleep. It's stupid."

You prop yourself up on one elbow, cupping her cheeks in your hands. "It's not stupid. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, hm?"

Karen's glad that you can't see her in the dark, otherwise you'd see the blush dusting across her cheeks. "Wanna go stargazing?"

Your lips tip upwards in a mischievous smile as you lean forward and kiss her. Karen melts into your touch and slips her tongue into your mouth, but you pull away before anything else can come away from it. "Nuh-uh," you chastise. "We're going stargazing."

Karen groans in faux annoyance and stands to her feet, taking you by the hand and waiting patiently as you slip your feet into your slippers. She presses a finger against your lips when you giggle and leads you back into the landing and down the winding staircase.

The harsh wind bites at your exposed skin and you tuck yourself into your girlfriend's side, craving that warmth. She drops to the ground and lays in the patch of grass on your front lawn, tugging you down with her.

It's cold, but Karen lets you lay on her chest, and suddenly, it doesn't feel too bad.

"What if someone sees us?" You whisper, pulling away slightly.

Karen pulls you back down onto her chest. "Let them."

You spend the better part of an hour stargazing. Karen points out the different consolations and suddenly, being in love with a girl doesn’t seem all that daunting.

[konigofmyheart]

sitting on könig’s lap goes one of two ways:

> MDNI! <

he nuzzles his nose into your hair, basking in the comforting and familiar scent of you. it’s not long before his hands start gently massaging your thighs, then trailing up to work on your back. he smiles at your soft sounds of pleasure, his heart swelling at how you take comfort from his presence. murmuring sweet nothings to you: how perfect you are, how you’re his reason to keep going everyday, soft “i love you”s tickling your ear.

or…

he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you snugly against him, not an inch of space separating you. his hardening length pressing against your rear, with far too much clothes blocking the way for his taste. soft groans against your ear as you teasingly grind back on him, his hands gripping your hips to position you, bucking his own up to meet yours. he starts trailing needy kisses on your neck, nipping gently as he works his way lower, relishing in your hushed moans. honestly, taube, you know better than to start something you can’t finish, right?

.

taube: dove :)

[amtrak12]

HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!

So there's this Season of Drabbles thing that I just discovered yesterday??? Basically a drabble exchange that's open to virtually any fandom/character as long it's already been nominated. I'm late to the summer party, but sign ups are still open through June 30! I tried to sign up last night but 3/4 of my fandoms/characters hadn't been nominated yet.

👀 Well, I fixed that now. My nominations for Warehouse 13 and Ghostbusters 2016 (and Law & Order SVU -- WHAT? I'LL DRABBLE ABOUT IT. FUCKING TEST ME!) along with some missing characters from nominated fandoms have all been approved! \0/

So maybe think about signing up too? 🥺👉👈 Because if you request/offer WH13 or GB16, we might get matched up. 💜