the-slumberparty · 2 years ago
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Week One Reader Activity:
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What is ‘that scene’? You know, that scene you always think of when you think of that one writer? Go to that writer’s page and ask them about that scene.
What did they enjoy about writing about it? Would they change it in any way? Did they have a different idea when they originally began the story?
Don’t forget to send a little appreciation and tell the writer(s) how much you enjoyed their work.
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ghouljams · 10 days ago
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Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.
Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.
Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.
Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.
At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...
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bunnis-monsters · 2 months ago
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sweet!lamb!reader being tricked by mean!wolf!yandere. like a wolf in sheep clothings concept?? the reader just believes anything he says without hesitation.
NSFW
warning: yandere behavior, dubcon, reader is a lamb but she’s an adult hybrid, I’m not good at writing mean characters…
You happily wagged your tail as you followed the wolf out into the woods, away from your flock. He had promised you affection and some sweets that you had never tried before!
Everyone warned you, saying wolf hybrids were bad news… but you were too innocent and kind to understand!! The wolf hybrid was nice, giving you candy and showing you all the best spots to graze!
The wolf had first planned on devouring such a stupid little creature, but he’d grown a bit fond of you. He imagined your fluffy little self could carry his litter quite well, so he lured you away from your flock.
“Can’t you see, you’re such a cute, dumb little thing…”
You whimpered, your fat cunt being knotted by his thick cock as he bit along your soft flesh. “B-but you said I could have sweets…”
Your little eyes welled with tears, your lip wobbling pathetically as his fingers teased your clit.
“Shh… my little dummy, just be quiet and let me fuck your sweet cunt. That’s all you’re useful for isn’t it, being my breeding bitch?”
He groped your heavy tits, squeezing them. “These will fill up with milk soon, my pet… all mine, my little lamb…”
It seemed your future would be filled with lots of pups… but in the end, he did feed you some sweets… but you had to suck his cock to get them first.
So mean…
You were all his now, with nowhere to go. A lamb without its flock was a helpless thing, and he’d do as he pleased with his prey.
——————
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coqvttes · 1 year ago
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୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝KNOCKED UP❞ ― KENTO N.
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― ꒰ BREEDING ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―
୨୧˚ synopsis: after getting turned on from seeing you being domestic in the kitchen, your doting husband is definitely not stopping until he's sure you're pregnant !
୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, breeding, p in v, petnames, praise, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!kento, fingering, tummy bulge, creampie, teasing, lmk if i forgot anything!
୨୧˚ wc: 1.4k (sorry it’s not proofread)
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your doting husband, kento just couldn't help himself when he saw you fussing around in his little kitchen. the enchanting smell of fresh pancakes had stirred him from his sleep in the bedroom, and he wondered what you were up to when he noticed that his wife's spot on the bed was empty. appearing in the doorway of the kitchen in his briefs, he freezes as he sees you prancing around in the kitchen. taking in the sight of you. 
there you are, sporting the linen workshirt he wore yesterday, styled with your cute little apron over it. clearly, you aren't wearing anything underneath the shirt, save for your cute lacy panties that he just loves so much.
he ponders if he should just take you right there. bend you over the worktop push those panties of yours to the side and make love to you like last night. you just look so gorgeous and domestic like this, waking up early just to change into HIS clothes to cook him HIS breakfast in HIS kitchen. how can he resist the temptation? god, sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose just to rile him up. and it works. 
"good morning, kento," the sound of your sweet voice forced him out of his perverted thoughts and his eyes met with your gentle ones. you were holding a delicate plate of freshly made pancakes, just for him with that sweet smile on your face. warmth filled his heart as he looked at you with adoration and lust. 
"g'morning, darling," he says in that sexy morning voice of his. your mouth almost waters at the sight of him. hair tousled, shirtless and a tired smirk on his handsome face. he notices the way you stare at him and he doesn't know how it happened but he's approaching you, pulling you in by the waist for a sweet kiss, sealed with passion and devotion. 
"you look too good in that shirt and cute little apron of yours," he groans, hands slipping down your hips to grab onto your arse. you squeal as he unexpectedly lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your palms flat against his chest. 
"w-what about breakfast?" he chuckles at your concern and grins. 
"who needs breakfast when i have you, hm?" he chuckles, carrying you back into the bedroom, you giggle as he plops you down on the bed, climbing over you. his fingers play with the strands of your hair before he speaks.
"god, you're so perfect in my shirt. so pretty for me, hm? all mine, aren't you?" his fingers slide under the shirt as he kisses you, caressing you tenderly before moving up further to grope your tits. he smiles into your lips as he feels how hard your nipples are for him, pinching and tugging at them gently, eliciting a choked whine from your throat.
"all yours, kento," your voice is breathy, so desperate for his touch. he skillfully unbuttons the shirt and peels it off of you, letting the cool air blow over your now bare torso. your fingers tangle in his blonde locks as he envelops your nipple in his warm mouth. you mewl softly from the stimulation whilst he gazes at you through his eyelashes, you look so heavenly like this. 
releasing your wet nipple he moves lower down your body. as he spreads your legs, exposing the wet stain on your panties, he chuckles. he ducks down and presses his lips against your clothed cunt. his pointer finger slips under the lace, pulling it down your legs, revealing your needy cunt.
"fuck, darling, let me put a baby into you, hm? make you mine forever? would you like that?" he asks, his slender fingers, slipping into your hole slowly. you nod profusely, choking on your words as he stuffs you full with his digits. sliding them in and out of you slowly, he curls his fingers to tease that sweet spot inside of you that makes your walls clench around him.
"use your words, sweetheart." 
"yes, yes! wan' your babies, kento. wan' it so bad. wan' to be yours forever-!" you babble mindlessly, completely unaware of how much your words are affecting him right now. the thought of having kids with you and how much you want it too, makes his dick so hard. his heart is beating fast as the phrases truly sink into his mind.
with that, he withdraws his now slick-covered fingers, before lowering his head down, capturing your plump lips with his. your hand moves down between your bodies to palm his bulge through his briefs. he pulls away from your lips and groans with how painfully hard he is and he tugs his briefs off, dropping them onto the floor carelessly. 
your eyes are fixated on his cock that yearns to be inside of your warmth. he pumps his length a few times, drops of precumming spilling out of his sensitive tip as he slowly lines himself up with your drooling entrance. you mewl out lewdly as he pushes himself in, filling you up completely and your palms fly up to his shoulders for purchase. 
your thankful he prepped you a little bit earlier otherwise you're not so sure if you could take him in one go like this. after a few heartbeats, he rolls his hips slightly, his pelvis rubbing against your puffy clit and you moan softly. 
he picks up the tempo, his thrusts now faster and harder as the room echoes with the sounds of your pleasure and the bed creaking. his strong arms move your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, making the position more intimate but most importantly, making it easier for him to go deeper.
his eyes are fixed on the way your cunt keeps sucking him in, the way you can see his bulge in your tummy and the way you look at him with those adoring doe eyes. he dips his head down to seize your lips in a kiss.
the kiss was gentle and innocent compared to the sinful actions being committed with each of his powerful thrusts. with every single drag of your tight cunt against his dick, constantly clenching around him deliberately which forced out a long string of groans as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.
"k-kento!" 
he dotes on the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name in a choked whisper, your nails clawing down his back. your cunt pulsing around his cock. your juices spilling from your hole as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow.
“that feel good, darling?” the rumble of his voice against your ear makes you shiver slightly. 
"can't wait to see your tummy swollen with my babies in you, you'll look so gorgeous."
“mmm—!” moans and whines bubble up in your throat as a response to his teasing words. the thought of having his children makes your mind go fuzzy and your heart swell. you want it more than anything. 
“i love you, sweetheart,” he coos, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. his husky voice, how close his lips are, the lust evident in his gaze, it all makes your mind go fuzzy. 
"i love you, kento! love you s'much!" you cry as you cream around his cock, cunt tensing around him which pushes him over the edge too. he lets out a broken moan as his warmth fills you up. he stays inside of you for a few moments, not wanting his cum to go to waste. 
"mmm, can't wait for you to get pregnant, sweetheart," he confesses, pulling you into his arms as he lays down on the mattress.
“i think the pancakes are cold,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him through your lashes and he chuckles down at you.
"that's alright, darling... i've already had my meal, haven't i?"
oh yes, he has...
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‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!
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aae-tuu · 1 year ago
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Gojo Satoru being the most annoying out of pocket boyfriend with zero boundaries is something I live for
Imagine you’re eating a pastry
and you bite off a piece and he sees you eating and comes over to you. once he’s near you he opens his mouth and you’re thinking to yourself
‘Maybe he wants me to feed it to him…’
like a normal person
except Gojo isn’t normal
“Do you want a piece?” You ask him as you chew your pastry.
he nods and with the most serious look on his face, he says the next sentence
“I want the piece that’s in your mouth.”
you pause as you slowly turn to look at him.
“huh?”
“I want you to bird feed it to me”
“.… what.”
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salarymanwaka · 4 months ago
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we can go anywhere
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wttcsms · 4 months ago
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reader who is flat broke and left to raise your younger brother. you’re pretty and resourceful, so you go on hinge, get guys to take you out on a nice first date dinner to get a free meal for you, and as you’re packing up the to-go box to take home to your brother (what second grader gets filet mignon for breakfast on saturday morning?), you say goodnight and ghost the guy. it’s nothing personal. you choose guys who are kinda sleazy and seem obnoxious so it lessens the guilt of using them. and it’s always a one time thing.
except then you match with a guy named kuroo, and he’s the best date you’ve ever gone on. you don’t ever want the night to end, but as you’re packing up your leftovers for your brother, you know that you’re not out looking for love. you’re only going to continue this little “scheme” of getting free dinners until you get a real job. so when you tell kuroo good night, you promptly unmatch with him and block his number from your phone. it was a good night, honestly. he’s funny and not at all sleazy like you thought he was going to be. too bad you have to ghost him.
the era of you not having to use men for free food might be coming soon!! you have a job lined up and you’ve made it to the final round of interviews; three different rounds of interview panels back to back. when you ace the first two, you’re more than excited to open the door to see who’ll be greeting you last.
your smile almost fades.
sitting in an office with a nice view of the city is kuroo. who, if you get the job, will be your direct manager. and that’s a strong if, because he definitely remembers you ghosting him.
(after all, it’s only been two days since your date. yikes)
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chuluoyi · 11 months ago
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MARRIED ON PURPOSE
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- gojo satoru x reader
"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.
genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here
note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
general masterlist
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Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.
“Don't look that sour now, wife.”
“…sigh.”
A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”
But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.
It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.
You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?
Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.
It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.
He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.
"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."
That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.
"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.
His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.
Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."
"Who?"
"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."
Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.
"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"
"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"
"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."
At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.
. . .
BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.
At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.
"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.
"I am smiling, Gojo."
"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"
Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?
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MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.
"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"
You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.
And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.
"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"
"And why?! Why should I do that?!"
"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."
"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"
"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."
Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.
The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.
You really had no choice, huh?
"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."
Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—
His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."
You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.
This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.
"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."
"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."
And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.
"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.
"The master! And the lady!"
Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—
"What's happening here?"
The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.
The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.
"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."
Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!
"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"
With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.
"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.
The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"
"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"
You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?
"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"
This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.
Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.
"You—you devil! You bit me!"
"Serves you right!"
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Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.
And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.
"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"
You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"
"No, but it shouldn't—"
"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"
For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.
The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.
“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”
He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”
“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”
"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"
You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"
"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"
You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.
"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"
You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"
"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"
"News flash: temporary wife."
"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"
You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."
Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.
Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?
"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."
"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"
"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"
"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."
Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.
"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.
He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.
"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.
Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…
You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.
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Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.
"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.
Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"
And what came next was like a crack of thunder.
"How insolent!"
You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—
"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."
You had never whipped your head so fast.
There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.
"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.
"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.
"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"
“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."
"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"
"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."
Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.
"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."
"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.
His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."
And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—
You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—
"Pfft, you wish."
—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.
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MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.
Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.
You could only imagine what he must feel.
. . .
When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.
"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.
It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.
It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.
"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"
"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."
Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.
"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.
Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.
You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"
"Whoa, that's sweet of—"
"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."
You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.
Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?
Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?
Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.
Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.
And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.
"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."
"Heh." I really am, aren't I?
"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"
He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."
You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.
Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.
"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."
"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.
Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.
But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.
"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.
"Consider this emotional support."
And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.
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How?
You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.
"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.
Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.
You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.
His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.
Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.
"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."
"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—
Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?
His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.
He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.
There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.
"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.
You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”
A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—
"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.
If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.
But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.
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MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.
You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.
This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.
You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.
But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.
This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...
Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.
The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?
With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.
. . .
If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.
Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.
And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.
How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.
When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"
You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"
Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.
Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?
The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."
Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."
It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!
Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.
Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.
Why? All reasons already listed above.
Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.
With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"
His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"
"Just give me an answer."
"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.
"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"
Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.
Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"
"Hey!"
"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."
An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.
Then it’s sealed.
Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.
The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—
“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”
Riiip~
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.
“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”
You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.
“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 13 days ago
Note
For your 900 followers celebration!!
“I’ll always choose you”
Jason Todd has never been anyone's first pick. He knows that. He's second, third, eighth best.
He doesn't get second glances, he doesn't get what he wants, and he doesn't get to be anyone's first thought. He's not anyone's go-to person. He understands that, accepts that.
But, deep down, in a place he doesn't want to ever want to unpack, he wishes you would.
You. He knows he has it bad for you. Pretty eyes, even prettier smiles. He's head over heels, a complete mess with no direction, and no idea what to do about it.
He'll endure the teasing he gets when he stares at you too long. He'll ignore the doubts that creep into his mind that you'd hate him if you knew how his heart stutters at the sight of you. He'll deal with it all if he can just spend another second listening to you laugh.
He thinks you have at least a vague idea of how he feels. You must pity him, because you seem happy to patrol with him. You sit yourself next to him on the couch more often than not during movie nights. You call him when life keeps him too busy from visiting.
It lulls him into a false sense of security, that even with how broken he is, you still want to stick around. It makes him a little greedy, a little selfish, to have more of your attention.
But you give it to him. Without question, without asking for anything in return.
You text him more, invite him to your apartment. He finds himself more and more entwined in your life, and it's more than he ever thought he'd deserve.
He's sitting in your kitchen one night, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice as he tells you what he's planning to cook for dinner. It's a new recipe. One he thinks you'll like.
But then you get a call. He deflates a little when he hears your friend inviting you out. He tries to keep the smile on his face. It's fine if you go. The leftovers he leaves might not be as good as they are fresh, and it might not taste as good without you, but he's not going to hold it against you.
He swallows the knot in his throat when you hang up the call, head spinning with so many thoughts he missed the tail end of your conversation, "So, ah, rain check for dinner then?"
You look a little surprised, "No? We're hanging out tonight, aren't we?"
"I mean, yeah," he says, cursing himself for stammering, "but, if ya wanted to go out, I wouldn't blame ya."
"I don't," You say easily, "I wanna stay here with you."
His gaze flicks over your face, trying to pick out the truth of your words, "You do?"
"Yeah. I'll always choose you, Jason," you tell him softly, like you don't realize you're knocking his entire world off center, "I like being around you."
He can't fight the wide, cheesy grin that spreads across his face, and he quickly turns to mess with the ingredients on the counter to hide, "Oh. Cool. Yeah. Me too."
You giggle a little, and his face heats up at the sound. He forces out more words, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, "So, uh, dinner?"
"Dinner," you echo, voice happy and light. It makes him think he might have had this all wrong. That, there's a chance, he really is your person.
The thought sticks with him all the way through dinner. And when you smile like you want to be here, when you ask him for seconds, he almost starts to think it's true.
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solxamber · 16 days ago
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One Date and a Lifetime: Leona Kingscholar x reader
You have chosen Leona! ; aka the times Leona-i-don't-care Kingscholar puts in effort for you;
1k masterlist ; Prologue
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You never thought Leona would actually take this date seriously. Honestly, when you first call him, you half expect him to suggest, "Let's just take a nap or something." Instead, his voice is low and smug, almost purring through the phone.
“Sure. I’ll pick you up later. Be ready.”
And just like that, he hangs up before you can ask for specifics. Typical. You're prepared for some half-hearted effort involving him dragging you to a secluded spot to nap under the stars or something like that. But then, a knock sounds at the door of Ramshackle, and there stands Ruggie with a bouquet.
“These are from Leona,” Ruggie says with a grin that’s two parts mischievous, one part disbelief. “He told me to get the ‘good ones,’ whatever that means. I charged him double, by the way.”
You take the flowers, cheeks warming, trying not to feel too charmed by the fact that the laziest lion you know thought to send you flowers. “Compensation good?”
“Let’s just say I’m eating like royalty tonight.” Ruggie winks before scampering off, probably with plans to milk his housewarden’s generosity for the rest of the week.
When Leona finally arrives at your doorstep, you're stunned into silence. He’s dressed to kill, sharp black slacks, a sleek button-up rolled at the sleeves. Effortlessly regal.
"You..." You blink. "You’re somehow even prettier than usual. How is that fair?"
He grumbles, averting his gaze, but you catch the way his chest puffs out just a little. “Tch. Cut it out.”
“Admit it—you love the compliments,” you tease, looping your arm around his as you step outside.
Leona scoffs but doesn’t pull away. “You gonna keep flattering me all night, or are we leaving?”
And so begins the wildest date you could have imagined: Leona, the notorious nap king, escorting you to a local festival, of all things.
You glance up at him as you stroll through the brightly lit stalls. “I thought you hated crowds.”
“I do,” he replies, but then adds in a gruff mutter, “It’s fine if it’s with you.”
Your heart skips a beat. You're lucky he looks so good because you might’ve fainted on the spot otherwise.
At one of the stalls, you spot a mountain of cotton candy, pastel pink and blue fluff that looks like it’ll melt if you so much as breathe on it. You buy a stick and tear off a piece, holding it up to Leona.
“C’mon, try it.”
He eyes the sugary fluff suspiciously. “That’s just sugar and air.”
“Exactly. Now open up.”
With an exaggerated groan, Leona leans down, and you pop the piece into his mouth. His brow furrows as he chews. “Way too sweet.”
But the next time you hold up another piece, he still eats it, grumbling under his breath about “sugar addicts.” You don’t miss the tiny, fond smile that sneaks onto his face, though.
As you continue through the festival, you spot a prize stall lined with plushies, including a little dragon that immediately catches your eye.
“I need that,” you say, determination sparking.
You try... and fail. Repeatedly. Leona watches your attempts with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s enjoying the show.
When you lose for the fifth time, he sighs dramatically. “Move.”
He steps up to the game and, with one smooth flick of his wrist, nails it on the first try. But instead of the dragon plush, he gives the attendant a lazy grin. “The lion.”
When he hands you the lion plush, you stare at it, confused. “What happened to the dragon?”
“Lions are better,” Leona says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No debate.”
Despite yourself, you can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, but it’s him, and somehow that makes it perfect.
Later, when he takes you to an absurdly expensive restaurant, you raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this? It’s... kind of pricey.”
He gives you a flat look. “Order whatever you want. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
So, naturally, you do. And the food is fantastic. Leona leans back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk as you happily dig into your meal.
When the date winds down and Leona walks you back to Ramshackle, the night air is cool, and you instinctively rub your arms. Without a word, Leona shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
You clutch onto his arm with a grin, snuggling into the warmth. “Thanks, Leona.”
He shakes his head, amused. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Of course you do.” You laugh, leaning against him. “Oh! Did I tell you what Ace and Deuce did earlier today? You won’t believe it.”
He humors you as you chatter away, recounting the latest shenanigans. “So, Grim decided to ‘supervise,’ which really just meant eating half the snacks while Ace accidentally set off the fire alarm—again.”
Leona snorts softly. “Idiots.”
“Yeah, but they’re my idiots.”
When you finally reach Ramshackle’s doorstep, you turn to face him, a little reluctant for the night to end. On a whim, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Leona freezes for half a second, and when you pull away, his expression is somewhere between surprised and utterly smitten.
“Goodnight, Leona,” you say softly, watching as he blinks down at you like you just shattered every lazy expectation he had about this date.
He clears his throat, looking away, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah... night.”
As he turns to leave, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just unlocked a whole new side of him—and you kind of love it.
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You’ve been talking about this video game figure for weeks. Every time you hang out with Leona, he hears about it. Well, "hang out" is a generous term—he naps on your lap or leans against you, and you yap his ear off about how amazing the game is and how this figure is the holy grail of limited merch.
“I’ve been doing everything,” you rant one day, lying next to him in the botanical garden. “Crowley made me do ten extra assignments this week. I even agreed to clean Grim’s litter box without arguments—twice! But it’s worth it. If I get that figure, my life will be complete.”
Leona, who’s half-asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, cracks an eye open. “That good, huh?”
“Yes, that good. There are only ten in the world, Leona. Ten.”
He grunts, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “Better hope your luck’s good, herbivore. Sounds like a lotta effort for a toy.”
“It’s not a toy,” you huff dramatically. “It’s a collectible figure, and it’s the coolest thing in existence. Just wait—when it drops tomorrow, I’m getting it.”
And yet, the universe doesn’t care about your efforts.
You stare at your phone screen in disbelief the next day. The site crashes, the countdown ends, and the figure sells out in 0.2 seconds flat. You refresh. Then refresh again. But it’s gone—snatched from your grasp like a mirage in the desert.
“No... no, no, no.” You sit there, devastated, as the weight of your failure sinks in. After all the work, all the chores, and all the emotional speeches to Leona, you’ve been denied. The limited-edition figure remains forever out of reach.
By the time you see Leona later, your mood is somewhere between tragic despair and begrudging acceptance. You find him lounging in the garden again, his favorite napping spot.
“Didn’t get it, huh?” he asks, his voice carrying that lazy drawl as you flop down beside him.
“Nope,” you sigh, resting your forehead on your knees. “All that work, all that hope... and nothing.”
Without another word, Leona pulls something from behind him and chucks it onto your lap.
You blink. Then blink again.
It’s the figure. The figure. THE limited-edition figure you’ve been pining after for weeks.
“Leona???” you squawk, holding it up like it might vanish into thin air if you let go. “What—how—why—?”
He just shrugs. “Still the second prince, y’know.”
“You—" Your jaw drops. “Did you use royalty status to get me this figure?!”
“Yeah.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he just asked the palace cook to make toast instead of pulling strings for a rare collector’s item.
You gape at him, torn between disbelief and giddiness. “Leona... that’s cheating.”
“So?” He leans back with a satisfied smirk, clearly amused by your reaction. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”
You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, clutching the figure like it’s the greatest treasure ever gifted to you. “You’re impossible.”
Leona tugs you down beside him, trapping you in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Now quit yappin’ and let me nap.”
Still grinning like a fool, you curl into him, giggling into his hair. “You’re way too good to me, you know that?”
He huffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand rests lazily against your back, warm and grounding. “Hmph. Lucky I like you.”
And just like that, he drifts off into sleep, his arms snug around you. And you? You lie there, feeling like the happiest person alive, hugging your figure close while Leona naps against you, his soft breaths the perfect lullaby.
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The first sign something is wrong comes when Grim tries waking you up for your usual chaos-filled day.
“Hey, get up, henchhuman! We’ve got things to do!” he says, poking your cheek with one of his fluffy paws. “It’s already late! If Crowley gets mad, I ain’t takin' the fall!”
Normally, you’d groan and roll out of bed—or at least threaten Grim with chores—but today? All you can manage is a weak grunt before you flop back onto your pillow like a defeated pancake.
“Henchhuman?” Grim nudges you again, this time with more urgency. You crack one eye open just long enough to see his ears flatten in concern. “Oi, don’t ignore me—what’s wrong?”
Your head is heavy, and it feels like your bones have melted into jelly. You try to say I think I’m dying, but all that comes out is a sad, congested whimper.
Grim’s eyes widen, and suddenly, he’s a blur of blue fur and panic. “You’re dying!” he yells, as if confirming the worst-case scenario. “Don’t go toward the light, henchhuman! I’ll be right back—stay alive!!”
Before you can reassure him—or at least remind him that people don’t die from mild fevers—Grim is already out the door, paws skidding against the floor like a tiny tornado.
Somewhere across campus, Leona is enjoying a particularly satisfying mid-morning nap in the botanical gardens when an absolute menace of a furball barrels into him.
“HEY, YOU! Lion guy!” Grim shouts, climbing onto Leona's chest. “Get up! Henchhuman’s dying!”
Leona cracks open one bleary eye. “Dying?” he repeats with a skeptical grunt, already half-expecting Grim to be overreacting. “Probably just overslept.”
“I know the difference between sleeping and dying!” Grim shrieks, paws batting at Leona’s face. “They're burning up, can’t even sit up! You gotta do something!”
Leona grumbles under his breath, but he’s on his feet before Grim can push him again. The usual lazy slouch is gone, replaced by swift, purposeful movements.
By the time he strides into your room, Leona has already called his personal doctor, much to Ruggie’s dismay (“Do you know what time it is?! Do I get paid overtime for this??”). Leona doesn’t care. He’s moving fast—like a lion with a mission.
It’s a blur after that. You vaguely register a cool hand against your burning forehead, Leona’s voice a low rumble beside you. The doctor checks your pulse, takes your temperature, and declares it’s just a fever with some exhaustion thrown in. Nothing dangerous, but definitely enough to flatten you.
“Hah.” Leona lets out a short sigh of relief, slumping in the chair beside your bed. “Told ya Grim, not dead.”
“Yeah, well…” Grim’s still pacing at the edge of your bed, tail twitching in frustration. “They looked dead, okay?! How was I supposed to know?”
“You weren’t. That’s why I’m here,” Leona says flatly, though his tone is less irritated than usual.
The next few hours pass in a fog of sleep, soft voices, and the occasional pressure of something cool against your skin. Ruggie swings by every now and then to drop off food, grinning as he deposits soup and medicine like it’s some kind of delivery service.
“Man, if I knew babysitting was part of my job description, I’d have charged extra,” Ruggie teases, setting down a tray.
Leona just rolls his eyes. “Get lost, hyena.”
Despite his usual snark, Leona is surprisingly attentive. He makes sure you drink water, feeds you spoonfuls of soup even when you mumble protests, and keeps an arm draped lazily around you when you shiver. If anyone asks, he’ll say it’s just because you’re annoying and need constant supervision.
When you finally come to, it’s because something warm and heavy is curled against you. You blink a few times, head still foggy, and realize it’s Leona—completely sprawled across the chair next to your bed, but with one hand tightly clasping yours.
You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Carefully, you nudge closer, nestling against his arm. The movement stirs him awake, his golden eyes blinking down at you groggily.
“You awake now?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“Barely,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
Leona grunts, but the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles is answer enough.
Just as you’re about to fully enjoy the peace, a loud, dramatic voice cuts through the moment.
“Finally!” Grim bursts into the room, leaping onto your bed. “Took you long enough to wake up! I thought I’d have to hire a priest or somethin’!”
You chuckle softly, the sound a little scratchy. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”
“Pfft! As if.” Grim crosses his arms, looking away with a huff. “I just didn’t wanna be stuck with Crowley as my only companion. He’s useless.”
But despite his words, Grim scrambles onto your lap anyway, curling up against your chest with a grumble. “Don’t get sick again, okay? It’s a pain.”
You pet his fur, grinning as you feel him relax. “Okay, okay. No more dying.”
Leona shifts beside you, rolling his eyes. “What, am I invisible?”
“Shh,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Just let me enjoy my two favorite cats for a minute.”
Leona huffs, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I'm not a cat. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”
You grin back at him, and for once, you don’t need words to say thank you. He knows.
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You like to think of yourself as a strong person. Someone who can hold their own in this chaotic, magic-ridden school where everything from magical accidents to actual ghost attacks is a typical Tuesday. You’ve handled your fair share of weird situations and even gotten through them without embarrassing yourself too badly. But… you are still a magicless human. And that’s a fact you can’t change.
So when three tall, muscle-bound Savanaclaw students corner you in a dimly-lit corridor on your way to visit Leona, your heart sinks.
"Where ya headin', little herbivore?" The biggest one grins, flashing sharp teeth that remind you just how much worse your day could get.
“Leona’s been hanging out with you a lot, huh?” another one sneers, blocking your path. “Think that makes you special or something?”
"Maybe they've got some kind of deal with him," the third one suggests, his voice dripping with mockery. "How about you tell us what’s really going on between you two?"
Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral. No way are you going to let them see how nervous you are. "How about you back off before you embarrass yourselves?" you say, proud of how steady your voice sounds.
The tallest one leans in, his grin widening. “Look at you, acting all tough. Too bad there’s no magic in that mouth of yours.”
You force yourself to hold your ground, though your fingers twitch toward your pocket. You really don’t want to bother Leona, but… well, desperate times. With a quick, discreet motion, you send a single SOS text.
You: Cornered. Help.
The three of them are still jeering at you when you hear footsteps approaching from behind. Slow, measured, and heavy with the kind of weight that makes everyone in the hallway tense.
"Oi," a familiar, low growl cuts through the noise like a hot knife through butter.
All three of them freeze. You glance over your shoulder—and there he is. Leona Kingscholar.
He stands at the end of the corridor, his usual lazy posture replaced by something much sharper, much more dangerous. His emerald eyes gleam with a warning, and a sly, predatory smile spreads across his face.
"Seems like I showed up just in time." His voice is deceptively calm, almost bored. “What do you think you're doin'?”
The boys shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances.
"Just… chatting," one of them stammers, the earlier bravado leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon.
Leona steps forward, leisurely, as if he’s in no hurry—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes the air heavy with tension. His presence fills the space, demanding attention and submission.
"You must be real stupid," Leona drawls, "if you think you can mess with what’s mine."
The tallest boy blanches. “W-We didn’t mean—”
Leona’s grin sharpens, all teeth. "Didn’t mean to what? Annoy me? Make me waste my time on some sad, third-string rejects?"
They flinch, shrinking under the weight of his words. Leona isn’t yelling. He doesn’t have to. His authority is clear—absolute.
One of them mumbles an apology, and the others nod hurriedly, ready to slink away. But Leona’s not done.
“You ever try this again,” he says, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr, “I won’t just kick you out of Savanaclaw. I’ll bury you so deep, nobody’ll even remember your names.”
The boys scatter without another word, practically tripping over each other to escape.
Leona watches them go with a snort, then turns his gaze to you. His sharp expression softens just a fraction, the predatory edge giving way to something lazier—something almost… fond.
“You good?” he asks, as if he didn’t just verbally annihilate three guys on your behalf.
Your heart is racing, but not from fear. No, this is something else entirely. Something far more dangerous. You’re not sure when it happened, but you are completely, utterly smitten.
“Yeah,” you say, trying—and failing—not to sound starstruck.
He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.
“Like you’re impressed.”
“Oh, but I am.”
He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, but you notice the faintest hint of color creeping up his ears. “Tch. Idiot.”
You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks for showing up, though.”
Leona shrugs like it’s nothing. "I told ya—just call me when you need me."
That does it. You feel yourself practically glowing at the simple promise, the quiet reassurance beneath his words.
You lean toward him, your grin widening. “What if I need you right now?”
He smirks, draping a lazy arm over your shoulders. “Then I guess I’m stuck with you.”
You let yourself melt into his side, the earlier tension gone like a bad dream. The two of you walk off together, his arm comfortably slung over you like it belongs there.
And, in that moment, you’re pretty sure it does.
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The assignment in front of you is a nightmare.
You’ve been staring at the same page for what feels like hours, your head throbbing with frustration. You chew the end of your pen, tapping your foot anxiously against the floor. Why did you leave this for the last minute? Why does it feel like every word on the page is written in an ancient, cursed script meant specifically to drain your soul?
Meanwhile, Leona is draped over you like a weighted blanket, his head resting comfortably on your shoulder. You know he’s napping because of the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. This man has zero care in the world.
He’s been napping while you’ve been spiraling. Because of course he is.
You mutter curses under your breath, willing the assignment to finish itself. But the numbers swim in front of your eyes, and your breaths grow shorter, more unsteady. Panic claws at the edges of your mind.
Leona stirs. He shifts just slightly, cracking open one eye to glance at you. “Oi,” he grumbles. “Stop breathin’ like you’re about to pass out.”
You ignore him and grip the pen tighter, heart pounding, trying to push through the stress. That’s the worst part about this assignment—if you don’t finish it, your grades will nosedive, and Crowley will never let you hear the end of it.
Suddenly, Leona's hand slips out from around you and snatches the pen from your grip. "Gimme that."
You blink as he pulls the paper closer.
"Leona, what are you—"
"Shh." He flips through the pages like they personally offended him. His eyes scan the questions with the kind of effortless ease that makes you want to scream in frustration. Without so much as a sigh, he picks up the pen and starts writing.
You can only sit there, dumbfounded, as his neat, surprisingly elegant handwriting fills in the answers you’ve been struggling with for hours.
"Wait—are you actually doing my homework?" you ask, staring at him in disbelief.
He glances at you from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Told ya. I'm a senior. This stuff’s easy."
"Easy for you, maybe."
“Then why didn’t you ask me earlier?” he drawls, finishing the last answer without breaking a sweat.
You blink at the completed assignment like it might disappear if you look away. "I… didn’t think to."
Leona rolls his eyes and tosses the pen onto the desk with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Next time, just ask. I ain't gonna let you stress yourself out over dumb stuff.”
And that’s it. Just like that, all your anxiety evaporates.
You turn to look at him, utterly smitten once again. "You're ridiculous."
He leans back, resting his head against your shoulder again with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”
You let yourself melt into him, the earlier panic now a distant memory. His warmth, his steady breathing, the way his arms rest loosely around you—it all feels so easy. So right.
For a moment, you just sit there in silence, the peaceful kind that feels rare and precious. The assignment is finished. The world isn't ending. You don’t have to do everything alone.
You tilt your head to rest against his, your smile soft. "Thanks, Leona."
"Mm," he hums, already halfway back to sleep. But his hand gives yours a lazy squeeze, a quiet reassurance that makes your heart skip a beat.
The day passes in a haze of warmth and peace, your stress long gone. And you realize something: being with Leona feels like this—like having someone who makes the hard days bearable, without needing you to say a word.
And yeah, you could definitely get used to this.
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You've thought about asking him for weeks. Maybe even months. But every time the words start forming, you chicken out. You’re this close to accepting that you’ll just live in relationship limbo forever.
It’s safer. No awkward conversations, no heartbreak. Just… endless naps together, weird dates that may or may not be dates, and him doing sweet things without ever calling them what they are.
But tonight, as you sit curled up in his arms, watching the stars from a balcony in the botanical gardens, it feels like the moment. Leona is lounging beside you, one arm slung lazily around your shoulders, the other resting on your leg like it's the most natural thing in the world. His warmth is comforting, grounding, and for once, you let yourself think: Maybe, just maybe, this is real.
You take a breath, steeling yourself. If he laughs or acts indifferent, fine. If it ruins everything—okay, not fine, but you'll survive.
“Hey, Leona?”
He hums, eyes still half-lidded. He’s relaxed, probably thinking about nothing except how long it’ll take for him to drag you back to bed.
You clear your throat. “What are we?”
Leona cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy look. “Huh?”
You shift nervously under his gaze. “Like… What is this? Are we—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “—a thing? Or… I mean, are you—do you even like me like that? Or—?”
He stares at you for a second, blinking slowly, like a cat woken from a nap it didn’t want to leave. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
You feel your courage start to wither, but you force the words out. “I mean, I thought… We never really said anything official. And I don’t know if this is, you know—” You wave a hand. “Something? Or if you’re just putting up with me or—”
Leona makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, like you just asked him the dumbest question imaginable.
“You really thought I’d let you hang around me this much if I didn’t want you?” he says, giving you a flat, incredulous look.
You blink at him. “So… we’ve been dating this whole time?”
He just stares at you. “...What else did you think we were doing?”
“Oh my god—” You slap a hand over your face, torn between relief and secondhand embarrassment. “I thought you were just vibing.”
Leona snorts. “Yeah. Vibing with you. Idiot.”
Despite yourself, you laugh—a little breathless, a little giddy. It’s so absurd. All this time, you’d been worried about asking him where you stood, and he just… assumed you knew.
Leona rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, turning to face you. His gaze is softer now, and the usual laziness in it is replaced by something raw and unguarded. His hand, rough and warm, cups your cheek.
“Listen,” he mutters, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “I���m not good at sayin’ stuff like this, so don’t make me repeat it, okay?”
You nod, holding your breath.
“I love you.” The words slip out easily, like they’ve been waiting there all along. “Don’t care what anyone says, don’t care what they think—I'm not good at a lotta things, but I know I want you.”
Your heart stumbles. For a moment, the world feels too quiet, too small. You reach up to cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading through your chest.
“I love you, too,” you whisper, like it's the easiest thing you've ever said.
Leona's lips twitch upward into a faint, self-satisfied smirk, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s not used to getting what he wants.
“So,” you say softly, “are you my boyfriend now?”
He gives you the look—that deadpan, long-suffering stare, like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question of the century.
“Then what the hell else would I be?” he grumbles.
You can’t help it. You laugh—bright, free, and maybe a little too giddy. And before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.
The kiss is soft, warm, and it lingers just long enough to make your heart race. He tastes like mint and the faintest hint of something earthy, something that feels like home. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, holding you close like he has no intention of letting you go.
When you finally pull away, you grin at him, still breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah, well.” He smirks, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Good,” you whisper, and this time, it’s him who leans in.
And just like that, the world slips away, leaving only the two of you—wrapped in warmth, in laughter, in everything you never knew you needed.
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Leona saunters into your room, hands in his pockets, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Hey, Falena and his family are visiting today,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
You blink at him from your bed, mid-scroll on your phone. “You mean the King and Queen of the Sunset Savanna are visiting.”
Leona shrugs. “Yeah. Same thing.”
You sit bolt upright. “Leona, that’s not the same thing! Those are literal royals!"
He raises an eyebrow, already amused. “I’m royalty too, you know?”
You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “But you’re my boyfriend!”
Leona’s smirk grows as smug as the desert sun. “Exactly.”
Oh no. He’s loving this way too much.
Despite your protests, you're soon standing next to Leona at the main entrance, sweating bullets as Falena, his wife, and Cheka step through the doors. They’re all gorgeous and elegant, the epitome of royal perfection. You’re about to pass out from nerves, but Leona? He looks like he’s two seconds away from falling asleep on his feet.
Cheka spots you first. “UNCLE LEONA!” he shrieks, barreling straight for his favorite uncle—and by extension, you. Before you can brace for impact, the little lion cub is already latched onto your legs.
“You must be the one Leona told us about!” Falena grins warmly, stepping up beside his wife, who’s equally radiant. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”
You gawk at him. “Wait... Leona talks about me?”
Falena’s wife smiles knowingly. “Quite a bit, actually.”
You shoot Leona a look, but he just rolls his eyes. “Don’t get weird about it.”
Meanwhile, Cheka, still latched to your leg like a koala, looks up with big, bright eyes. “You’re my favorite person now!” he declares, squeezing your leg tighter. “After Uncle Leona. But you’re mine after him, okay?”
Leona huffs out a laugh, amused by the possessive cub. “Tch. Good luck, kid.”
“I’ll fight for you!” Cheka promises dramatically, like you’re a prize to be won at a carnival. He even makes little fists, shadow-boxing an invisible opponent. “I’ll become a strong lion and beat all the bad guys!”
You try (and fail) to hold back a laugh. “Well, I look forward to it.”
Falena claps his hands together, his grin brighter than the savanna sun. “Since we’re all here, how about a walk around the grounds? It’ll be nice to catch up.”
“Nope.” Leona’s arm is suddenly wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer to him. “We’re good right here.”
Falena and his wife exchange that look—the kind that says they’ve been married long enough to know exactly what’s going on.
“We’ll leave you two alone, then,” Falena says with a chuckle, patting Leona on the shoulder. “We’re happy for you, Leona.”
His wife nods, her eyes twinkling. “Very happy.”
You open your mouth to protest—Wait, this isn’t what it looks like! We’re just standing here! I’m not even sure what’s happening!—but the words don’t come. You just sputter and blush as Leona tugs you closer, looking far too pleased with himself.
“See?” Leona murmurs smugly, lips quirking into a grin as you bury your face in your hands. “Told you it wasn’t a big deal.”
You groan into your palms. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” His grip tightens just a bit, his voice low and lazy as ever. “C’mon. Admit it—you like having a royal boyfriend.”
You peek through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Leona...”
He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Say it.”
You glare up at him, flustered beyond belief but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “...Okay, maybe I do.”
He hums in satisfaction, practically purring. “Thought so.”
And just like that, he pulls you into a lazy, one-armed hug, as if holding you is the easiest thing in the world—and honestly? It kind of is.
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The moment the news breaks that you’re dating Leona, you know it’s going to be a thing. A very loud thing. Ace and Deuce are the first to get wind of it, and honestly, you almost regret ever telling them.
“Leona Kingscholar?!” Ace yells, gaping like you just told him you were moving to Mars.
“Why??” Deuce adds, equally stunned. “Are you okay? Blink twice if you're in danger.”
“Isn’t he the guy who naps literally everywhere?” Ace squawks. “Like, you’re really dating a guy who falls asleep during fights?”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, Ace. I am.”
“Not to mention he’s scary,” Deuce mutters. “What if he, I don’t know, kicks you out of the relationship because it’s too much work?”
“He’s not going to ‘kick me out,’ Deuce.”
Ace leans in conspiratorially, wiggling his eyebrows. “Have you thought about what happens when Riddle finds out?”
Deuce pales. “Oh man, I’m not telling him.”
“You’re definitely telling him.”
“No, you tell him!”
“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Ace scoffs. “I can already hear him screaming something about ‘poor romantic judgment!’”
Meanwhile, Jack is sitting with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “I don’t know why you’re all acting like this. Housewarden Leona’s actually cool if you get to know him.”
Ace stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Jack, the man once threatened to ‘accidentally’ kick me into a bush because I sneezed near him.”
“Yeah, because you sneezed on him.”
“It was allergy season!”
“Uh-huh.” Jack shrugs. “Still deserved it.”
Before you can jump in, Grim waddles in, arms crossed like the world’s smallest mafia boss. “I don’t care who you date as long as you’re still my henchhuman. Priorities, ya know?”
“Gee, thanks, Grim.”
Then, from across the room, Epel starts cackling like a madman.
“Oh, Vil is gonna lose his mind when he hears about this!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “Leona’s the exact opposite of Vil’s whole life philosophy. This is beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Ace adds, smirking. “It’s like watching two completely different wildlife documentaries crash into each other.”
Before you can stop him, Sebek jumps in, indignant. “I cannot believe you would choose that lazy lout over the Young Master!” He practically growls the words.
“Sebek, Leona is—” you try to reason, but Sebek steamrolls right over you.
“He sleeps through his classes! He’s rude! And worst of all, he doesn’t respect Master Malleus!”
You sigh. “Sebek, you can’t date someone based on their respect levels for Malleus.”
“You should!” Sebek declares, crossing his arms dramatically like a lawyer who just delivered the winning argument.
Before things spiral further, Jack mutters, “Leona’s not rude. He’s just… efficient with his energy.”
“Efficient? He calls that one freshman ‘footstool,’ Jack,” Ace deadpans.
“Maybe it’s a term of endearment,” Jack grumbles defensively.
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. The whole scene is chaotic—Ace flailing, Epel wheezing, Sebek looking personally offended, Deuce still white-knuckling through the idea of telling Riddle—and somehow, it’s perfect.
Because deep down, you know something they don’t.
Even though Leona doesn’t show it, even though he hates doing anything that even smells like effort, he cares. He really does. Whether it’s texting you to remind you to eat, draping his jacket over you when you forget yours, or waking you up from an accidental nap with your favorite snack—he makes sure you know.
You just smile quietly to yourself, heart warm. And when Ace notices and nudges you, asking what’s got you looking so smug, you just shrug.
“Oh, nothing,” you say, already counting down the minutes until you can see Leona again.
Because even though the man drives you up the wall and naps like a professional, he’s yours. And that makes all the teasing worth it.
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1k masterlist ; Main Masterlist
i know lions don't purr but in my delusions, leona does. work with me here
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zephyrchama · 21 days ago
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This spontaneous post is my way of coping with Obey Me!'s constant back-to-back events. They're all starting to blur together in my memory. ;u; ---
Lucifer frowned. His eyebrows were furrowed in displeasure as he announced, "we have a situation."
You rolled your eyes. There was always a situation. One of his brothers was always causing trouble for somebody. "What is it now?"
"Come with me. I'll explain as we walk."
You were rather preoccupied, your favorite show was starting soon and for once you wanted to watch it live. It wasn't fair you always had to clean up somebody else's mess.
You implored Lucifer, "can't you just tell me now? On a scale of, like, 'somebody is trying to skin Mammon for selling snake oil' to 'the three realms as we know them are going to be annihilated,' how bad are we talking?"
After a huff of impatience, Lucifer came up with an impressively succinct explanation. "A slumbering water spirit in the palace gardens has awoken for the first time in ten millennia and is threatening to drown the entire Devildom unless it speaks to you, so hurry up."
So this was a true disaster. You asked, "Why me? Isn't it literally Diavolo's job to protect the Devildom?"
"Yes. He tried to, but seeing as you are the embodiment of all that we love and hold dear, the spirit is more interested in speaking with you."
"How exactly does the spirit know about me? Can it read minds?"
The furrow between Lucifer's eyebrows deepened by the second. "Lord Diavolo wouldn't stop gushing about you in front of the spirit. He couldn't help himself. Even Barbatos chimed in with words of adoration."
"Did you gloat about me too, Lucifer?" Such snark showed how unphased you had become in the face of crises that only you could resolve, but Lucifer did not find it amusing.
He didn't deny it. He simply said, "if you don't get moving, the spirit will probably come and hunt you down. Which I'd greatly like to avoid, along with a massive flood."
You groaned and rose to your feet with reluctance. Better get this over with so the TV doesn't get destroyed. "You said this water spirit's been asleep for eternity, but I swear this exact same thing happened last month, too."
Lucifer was quick to correct the record as he draped a jacket around you. "That was an ancient magic flower."
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the-slumberparty · 2 years ago
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Week Three Reader Activity:
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How did you think of that? No, really, you’re so creative! Hit up your favourite writer(s) and ask them how they came up with the idea for a piece of writing.
Don’t forget to send a little appreciation and tell the writer(s) how much you enjoyed their work.
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lovebugism · 9 months ago
Note
do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader
hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
“Boo!”
You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.
The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.
“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.
Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”
You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.
“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.
Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”
“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.
“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.
He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”
“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”
“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.
“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.
Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 
There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.
“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.
Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.
“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”
“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.
You cave instantly. 
You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.
“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.
“Good,” the boy hums.
“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.
Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.
You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.
“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.
West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 
—————
The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.
Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.
His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.
You shrug. “Nothin’…”
“I missed you.”
You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”
“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.
“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”
“I think so, too.”
“It’s awful.”
“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.
“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”
Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.
“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”
You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”
Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”
“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 
“No, it was very intentional.”
“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.
Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”
“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”
He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”
“God, you’re such a boy.”
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bunnis-monsters · 3 months ago
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A bunny hybrid reader that notices a male fox hybrid following them and watching from a far. Naturally you get nervous cause foxes prey on bunnies! But it turns out he’s very shy and wants to court a cute chubby bunny but doesn’t know how to. Maybe he’s also a soft dom with praise kink? 🤭
NSFW
warning: chasing(slight predator/prey?), breeding, praise kink
You had felt eyes on you since the moment you entered the forest you usually collected herbs from. It wasn’t exactly unusual to feel watched considering many other hybrids called the forest home… but today it felt… different.
You spotted a fleck or red, the shade making your fight or flight kick in.
Instantly you began sprinting, dropping your basket and booking it back to your cabin. You didn’t dare turn around, your poor heart racing as your fluffy bunny ears picked up the sound of running behind you.
“W-wait!”
You cried out in fear at the sound of your pursuer calling for you to stop, shaking your head. “N-no, go away!”
You reached your home, quickly locking your door and peering out the peep hole as your fluffy cotton tail twitched nervously.
There was a fox hybrid outside on your porch, sniffing the air and rubbing his face against every surface he could… was he leaving his scent there for later?
“Please come out… I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”
This happened nearly every day for a month. The fox chased you, nearly running you over before you got into your cottage at the end of the day.
That was until you weren’t fast enough.
The fox had been studying the way you move, when you took the shortest of breaks to catch your breath, and when you quickened your pace again to get away. Bunnies were masters at escaping… but foxes were very smart.
You knew something was different this time. Call it instinct, call it just coincidence, but you noticed that he wasn’t running after you as fast as usual… and his eyes were following your every movement the entire time.
Like he already knew he was going to catch you… it was just a matter of time.
You were too slow as you turned a corner, slipping on some pine straw and crashing to the ground. In seconds he was on top of you, and all you could do was close your eyes and hoped he killed you quickly…
But his jaws never closed around your neck. After a few moments of silence, you opened your eyes to see him butting his head against you affectionately, his tail swaying behind him.
His eyes were half lidded, staring down at you with infatuation and adoration.
“I’ve finally got you, little bunny.”
He was absolutely glued to your side now, clinging tightly to you as you hesitantly made your way home. The fox seemed absolutely smitten, sometimes softly nipping at your fluffy ears or neck, startling you.
“So pretty… you smell so, so good…”
After dinner he curled up with you, his fluffy tail swaying as he kept rubbing his scent on your neck. Could he tell that you were close to your heat? Is that why he had become interested in you?
“I’ve wanted you for so long… you’re cute and just the softest thing I’ve ever seen… but it’s hard approaching a bunny when you’re a fox.”
Your cheeks heated up as he pressed against you, your cotton tail wagging furiously when his bulge rubbed against your clothed cunt.
It wasn’t long until your next heat cycle, and it was clear that he knew it too. He continued to purr as he grabbed hold of your hips, guiding your bunny cunt over his bulge slowly.
When you let out a stifled whine, he smiled, giving your soft bunny ear a nibble. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. You’re so soft and pretty, let me take care of you, sweetheart…”
Within seconds he had your panties off, his fingers stretching your whole. As they pumped in and out of you, his lips met yours in a needy kiss.
His tongue explores your mouth, entangling with yours. It was hard to think with all these new sensations…
“Come on, bunny… lemme see that pretty pussy of yours, hmm?”
You shyly opened your legs, and he moved to position his cock at your entrance. At this point you were whining and bucking your hips, ready to be mated.
It was reassuring when he held onto your hand as his cock sunk into your fat bunny cunt, his face burying itself into your neck.
“F-fuck, so good… god…”
His grip on your hips tightened, the soft flesh warm against his hand. He’d never had something so soft and cute underneath him… you were amazing…
It felt too good, his cock was rubbing and touching all of the best spots, making your clit throb. As soon as he noticed, he moved his hand to rub circles around your clit while he picked up speed.
As he fucked into you, whining into your neck, he said the cutest things.
“I love you… love you so much, so fucking pretty…” he blubbered, his teeth grazing against your neck before he bit you.
“G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? Gonna be my cute little mate…”
Those words had your walls fluttering around him, your toes curling as the two of you came together.
After coming down from your respective highs, he became a bit shy again, giving your cheek a tentative lick. “You did well, pretty girl…”
You simply butted your head against him affectionately, returning his soft purrs.
Now, you had a mate, a sweet one at that. You didn’t have to worry about other bunnies bothering you when a fox called your cottage home.
———————
NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog
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coqvttes · 1 year ago
Text
୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝DON'T BE GENTLE❞ ― KÖNIG.
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― ꒰ SIZE KINK ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―
୨୧˚ synopsis: after begging your gentle giant of a lover, könig to go rough on you, he lets loose tonight and shows you just how strong he really is...
୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, manhandling, size kink, p in v, petnames, degradation, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!könig, creampie, teasing, hairpulling, dacryphilia?, roughness, spanking, slapping, aftercare, lmk if i forgot anything!
୨୧˚ wc: 1.4k
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your jaw hangs open and your glossy eyes are practically rolling back into your head as he pounds into your sopping cunt mercilessly. plump tits bouncing freely with every harsh thrust of his, causing your thoughts to grow hazy and dumb. his large, rough palms are stretched out on both sides of you, his rough fingers digging into the mattress, keeping you caged beneath his much larger frame.
you try your best to focus on his burly figure above you, but you keep whining as your little cunt struggles to take all of him in. your eyes become squeezed shut, your head turning to the side as you grow lost in the overwhelming pleasure, but you're alerted by the sudden light slap on your cheek. you gasp at the contact and more tears spill from your eyes.
"wan' you to ruin me, könig! don't want you to be gentle", you had pleaded fluttering your lashes at him innocently. and that's how you end up like this. tiny body pinned down on his king-sized bed as he forces his massive dick inside of your needy little cunt. all your little brain can manage to think about is how big he is.
gosh, you've never felt so full with how he's meanly bullying his cock into your drooling cunt with no remorse whatsoever. your shaky little hands gripping onto his huge bulging biceps with so much strength that if were he another man, it would hurt — but no, he's könig of course.
your mind is void of coherent thoughts as all you can manage to do is moan delightedly, accepting all that he gives you. with his strong arms he moves both of your legs up to rest on his shoulders. a high-pitched pornographic moan slips from your lips as you get used to the new angle.
his thick cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you, encouraging hot tears to roll down your cheeks. your fingers slide up his toned abdomen, needing to feel anything and everything that's his. he takes in the sight of you beneath him and he almost feels bad for being so rough with you, but he keeps his composure.
with the lewd medley of the headboard banging into the wall, wet squelching, your sweet moans, and obscene skin-on-skin slapping noises, the sounds bouncing off the walls of your bedroom are purely sinful. creating a tune that he doesn't ever want to forget, and neither do you.
your watery innocent eyes plead with his own as if begging him to slow down. but no, the last thing you want him to do right now is slow down. shaky hands reach up to his broad shoulders, trying to hold onto him for purchase and your lips part as you try and push yourself up in a frantic attempt to kiss him.
your body desperately yearning for his gentle touch in contrast to his brutal movements. you're relieved he begins to lean down, his lips merely inches away from your own, but he doesn’t kiss you. you let out a pitiful whine and he almost laughs at you with how pathetic you’re being.
in a single moment, with little effort, he cruelly pulls out of your warmth, flipping you over onto your tummy. you squeal at how easy it is for him to manhandle you around into different positions that suit his liking. you hate to admit that his strength alone turns you on so much. before you can complain to him, he’s pushing into you again, picking up on the brutal pace as if nothing had happened.
"du bettelst immer darum, gefickt zu werden, nicht wahr, kleine schlampe?" he snarls, snapping his hips against yours. (always begging to get fucked aren't you, little slut)
pathetic moans and cries spill from your lips into the sheets as he pounds into you mercilessly, his calloused palms gripping onto your hips so tight you’ll probably have bruises in the morning.
"du magst es, wenn ich dich eine schlampe nenne hm, dirty girl?" his rough movements are relentless as he makes no effort to slow down. (you like it when i call you a slut hm, dirty girl)
your mewls are muffled by the bed and he's having none of it. he raises his hand slightly before bringing it back down, spanking you. you lunge forward from the sensation. he then pulls your head up from the mattress by your hair, but not too hard, he doesn’t want to hurt you.
“say it.” he punctuates each of his words with a harsh thrust.
“y-yes! i love it—mmm!” you blubber out desperately, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you for dear life. he lets go of your hair and you can practically hear his satisfied smirk as his thrusts grow stronger, deeper and faster, rutting into you like an animal. you take it like a good girl, his good girl as if you were made for him. 
he applies just enough pressure with his palm pressing down on your lower back that makes you arch just perfectly. his rough palms kneading into your arse whilst you let him use you as he pleases.
just as you feel your climax approaching, he stops thrusting, hot tears spill down your cheeks as your fists bunch up the sheets beneath you. your weeping cunt clenches around him, dragging a gluttonous groan from his mouth. he leans down, pressing his chest to your back, his lips lingering just by your ear.
“say please, schatz,” you just know he’s grinning evilly behind you and you lose all sense of self-respect, just wanting to cum so bad.
“p-please! wanna cum please, i’ll be good!”
satisfied with your answer he gives you no warning as he slips back into you with ease, the wetness of your cunt sucking him in making it easy for him to thrust into you. you slowly feel your knees starting to give out, but thats not a problem, he holds you up easily and you feel your muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm approaching.
the sounds of his grunting, the squelching noises from your cunt, and the tingling in your core cause your mind to go numb and your body to spasm as you cum around him with a high-pitched cry, collapsing into the bed.
he follows moments after you, driving into you a few more times before his hips stutter as he releases inside of you, making you feel full and warm with him. as you catch your breath, his fingers, now gentle, run up and down your back tenderly in a soothing motion.
“was i too mean to you, schatz?” his voice is different now, it’s genuine and caring. he pulls out of you slowly, gently turning you over so he can see your pretty face. you shake your head and tug him down for a kiss. you sigh into his lips, finally getting a taste of his lips that you'd been yearning for the whole night. 
"i'll be right back, liebling." pulling away from you, he smiles down at your post-euphoric state. sliding off of the bed, he slips his briefs back on and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning with a playful grin.
slipping into your warm embrace, he wastes no time in cradling you in his brawny arms. you almost laugh at his switch of character, how he was just moments earlier, fucking your brains out and now he's picking you up in his arms like his sweetheart. supporting you from under your knees and arms, he carries you to the bathroom, you smile fondly at the sight of a warm bath ready just for you.
he carefully lowers you down into the porcelain tub and you exhale contently as your sore body makes contact with the warm temperature of the bathwater along with the sweet smell of your lavender soap, and the gentle touch of könig's palm as he strokes your blushing cheek tenderly.
and after a few heartbeats of watching you bathe, he just can't help himself before getting into the tub behind you, the water splashing everywhere as his much larger body envelopes yours. pulling your bare back flush against his chest, your frame now trapped in his loving embrace. in that moment you just know, he'll always care for you, your one and only könig.
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‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!
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thefandomthings · 7 months ago
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5 fluff zuko
𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬
Fluff prompt #5: "I have to go but-one more kiss."
Pairing: Zuko x f!reader
Warnings: Fluff, kissing, slight angst, Zuko being Zuko. ¡¡SPOILERS!!
Notes: Bluntest request I have ever gotten (It's from my sister 😶). Takes place in Book 3. Ep 14. @shellbell4
Prompt event
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To say you aren't happy that Zuko and Katara decided to go on a 'Revenge mission', is an understatement. You aren't close with Katara, never have been. On two different ends of the spectrum. You both maintain a respectable relationship between each other, BUT that doesn't mean you like one another.
Zuko is completely aware of this. Having this conversation with him multiple times about how she looks at him, or what happened under Bai Sing Sei. But as you know, he isn't to great at reading people and how they are feeling. And it doesn't help that he is the one who suggested it, stings like alcohol on a open wound.
You are currently sitting against one of the dock posts, watching as Katara and Zuko get Appa ready to fly. The nasty look on your face is extremely noticable, Sokka and Aang are both looking at each then between the three of you.
Zuko finishes strapping a few things on Appas saddle and slides down the fluffy sky bison. He might not be the best at reading social cues but he can tell just by the way your eyes burn into his soul, you are pissed and hurt.
He cautiously approaches you and slides down the post next to you, his left arm resting on his knee, his right hand playing with the grass and dirt; picking and prodding.
You don't look at him, your eyebrows are furrowed in anger, you mouth set in scowl. Zuko carefully puts his arm around your shoulders. You don't push him away, but you don't lean into him like you usually do.
"Did you really have to suggest going with her?" You finally spoke, turning your head to look at him. Zuko has a frown on his face as he looks back at you, honey eyes soft and determined.
"She needs closure, Y/n. And Sokka and Aang won't go with her, so I have to." His right hand slides into your own, squeezing it softly. You know he is right, after all he's been through he just wants to make peace with the Gaang, especially Katara.
You sigh finally leaning into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Zukos' pale cheeks burn pink, his arm squeezing you closer. He leans down and kisses you softly, his dry lips molding with yours before he pulls away.
"Zuko, let's go." Katara hollers from her spot on Appas neck/head. Zuko sighs and stands up, looking down at you with a soft smile.
"We'll be back soon, okay?" He ruffles your hair gently and starts to walk away. You smile slightly, already missing him even if he isn't gone yet.
Zuko then pauses a few feet away and you watch him curiously. He turns on his heel and speed walks back to you. Zuko leans down holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb.
"I have to go but-one more kiss." He presses his lips to yours longer, taking the breath from your lungs. "For good luck."
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