Rest well, Rocker!

“Do you have a reasonable enough excuse for your behavior?”

Leona blocked your path, standing in the center of the narrow corridor. You thought that leaving class later than usual, blending in with the crowd of students, would grant you the privilege of not seeing the arrogant Dormitory Head of Savanaclaw — however, that wasn't the case.

Leona's tail slashed through the air, occasionally clicking on the stone floor like a whip, a sign that he wasn't in the best of moods — but then again, when was he ever in the best of moods?

“Shouldn't you be dozing under a plant, Your Highness?” you told him, as sour as a cake made by Lilia himself.

Leona narrowed his gaze, his emerald eyes simmering like the deadliest of poisons. He didn't like your tone at all.

“Ruggie told me you didn't show up at the Cafeteria,” he said, trying to keep his tone calm. You rolled your eyes, impatiently. You always showed up at the usual time, hoping to catch him while he grabbed his favorite dish and maybe exchange a few words with him — not that he showed up anyway.

“So what? I wasn't hungry. Not that you give a damn ‘bout that. I have to go now, I have lots of reports to finish.”

He stepped in front of you as you tried to pass by him, arms crossed over his chest and a low growl rising from his throat. He wasn't about to leave you alone.

“You've been acting strangely lately, even for a herbivore.” he said, “Like the other day: you avoided my gaze in the corridors and when I called for you, you pretended not to hear me. Why?”

You snorted. “I didn't want to see you that day, happy?”

He leaned over you, engulfing your small figure with his shadow, his eyes bore into yours menacingly. “You know damn well that I'm not stupid. Invent another one.” he growled low, but you weren't that impressed.

“Didn't know you cared that much.” you said, sarcastically, venomous even. “You really want to know why I don't want to see your furry ass?”

“I wouldn't be here asking you personally if I didn't care. You know I don't put effort into worthless stuff.”

You wrinkled your nose, furious at how that last word had slipped off his tongue with disarming ease.

“Why don't you go and ask your sweet bunny girl, who I quote: "It's almost a shame to stay away from, given how pleasant her company is". I see it took you a long time to find another plaything to pass the time with!” You hissed, face burning with anger as you jabbed your finger into his chest repeatedly.

Leona didn't even take two seconds to connect the dots, an arrogant smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. “Are you…jealous?” he said — his wasn't a question, but rather an observation veiled as a tease.

He expected you to say yes, acting like a little girl who can't have candy — adorably petulant and whiny — then telling you that he wasn't the type to give unconditional attention to the first cute little thing that wagged its fluffy tail  in front of him. But your answer shocked him.

“How can I be jealous of something that wasn't even there to begin with?”

That left him stone cold.

“What…did you say?” he muttered still in shock.

“You heard right. I'm tired of putting unnecessary and unnerving effort into something that will never be there. Go back to your fluffy-tailed bunny girl... — and as you overtook him again you shot him the last poisonous arrow in your bow — ...I'm going to have tea with Tsunotaro. I'm sure that, at least, he only has eyes for me.”

Leona's eyes lit up a pure green, an angry growl rose to his throat, reverberating powerfully in his chest.

Lose to that horned bastard?

“Fuck no.”

You suddenly felt an arm wrap around your stomach, lifting you up. Leona placed you on his shoulder, as if you weighed nothing — carrying you around like a sack of potatoes. But despite your squeals, no student had the balls to get in Leona Kingscholar's way — especially not when he was wearing that face that spelled in capital letters "I'm pissed off". Your punches on his back and kicks to get yourself free of his grasp only served to piss him off more.

He stormed into the first empty classroom he found — too pissed and impatient to make it all the way to his room in Savanaclaw. In his mind a comfortable bed was too much of a treat for how you dared to speak to him. An uncomfortable wooden desk would have been sufficient.

He slammed you on the shiny surface with no care or regard and used his own weight to keep you still.

“I give you one last warning: take back what you said. Every single word, including what you said about the horned bastard, and I might consider taking it easy.” he growled. 

But you didn't budge, instead you smiled, arrogant. “Are you jealous, Kingscholar?”

“Last chance. Take it all back. Say you belong to me.”

“Make me.”

As soon as those words slipped from your lips, impertinent like few others, a scream got stuck in your throat. The pearly, bestial canines dug into the sensitive skin of the shoulder, the long feline claws tearing the fabric and scratching the skin — a low, primal growl announced that the beast had taken its prey to devour.

The saying goes: "Jealousy, like envy, is an ugly beast." In your case the beast, in addition to being jealous of what belongs to it, is also greedy and petty.

Greedy because, despite the insults, the screams, the bites given back or the tears stuck between your eyelashes, he doesn't stop moving his hips against yours for a single moment. To mark your skin until he feels the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. To tease your clit — pinching it, slapping it — until you reach your peak.

Petty because, every time you're there, at the peak of pleasure, on the threshold of orgasm…he stops. Wait for that frustrated moan to escape your lips and then start the torture all over again.

“Do you want to come? Then say who you belong to.” it's what he reminds you of, orders you to say, every time he stops, before he starts abusing your velvety walls once again.

It's so easy to say. So convenient. So within your reach.

You just have to say you belong to him and no one else, and you finally get to cum.

But you're so damn stubborn.

The vicious circle starts again, again and even Leona is starting to lose patience. Why do you so stubbornly refuse, even when your pleasure is hanging by a thin thread that he dangles in front of you, waiting for you to grab it? Are you perhaps a masochist at heart? 

Or maybe that little feeling of love that blossomed in your heart has withered, giving way to the evil weed of hatred, because he didn't take care of it enough? Is that what this is about?

Leona shakes his head. This is not the right time to think about it.

He starts moving his hips against yours again, a frustrated whine leaving your lips. This stalemate is going on too long. You're at your limit — you feel like you might go crazy if the now volcanic heat in your stomach doesn't subside. But the cost of this is a blow to your pride.

Why does he care so much? He never showed any sign of affection towards you. Not a caress or a sweet phrase. And now that you've finally decided to move on, it turns out that he has feelings?

That sounds an awful lot like bullshit.

After the nth ruined orgasm, though, it feels like there's no other option.

After he, again, shamelessly reminds you what the only condition is to untie that damned tight knot in your stomach, fat tears fall from your eyes. The words roll off your tongue, bitter — warm yet poisonous.

“Yours.” you said, voice hoarse after so many screams and whines and moans.

“I'm yours Leona.”

The beast inside him seems satisfied. So much so that his hips begin to thrust more vehemently, with more fury. The pace pricks at your skin, hurting it more than its claws and bites. The series of moans that leave your lips calms that monstrous part of him — much to his shame.

With a soft roar, quieted by his canines against the skin of your shoulder, he comes copiously. At least he has the foresight to come on your stomach, rather than inside — and for a hungry and brutal gesture like his that's the least — before collapsing on top of you, exhausted.

The bestial side of him tries to console your tremors and your strangled sobs by tending to the bites left on your pristine skin like a good mate should. However, that doesn't seem to give the result he was hoping for.

“I'm sorry...” he murmurs, his cheek nuzzling against yours.

“After you said that I just saw red. I admit it: I got jealous, I got territorial... or at least my bestial side did. The thing is, this side of me has already decided that you belong to me, and I'm not one to share, but I'm not good at showing it, okay? I'm sorry about...this.”

Even after he apologized you still stubbornly refused to look him in the eyes.

“Say one thing, anything, that can make you forgive me and I will do it, just...please mate.” he said, releasing what sounded like broken purrs.

“I just want one thing…” you said, your voice feeble but firm. He silently waited for your request.

“I want effort. From your part.”

“You know I'm not good at that…”

“Try it. And if you fail try harder.”

“...fine.”

He promised. At least that's a start. Right?

⚝ Drinks Cabaret

⚝ Leona Kingscholar Masterlist

mostro lounge was fairly busy that evening, the low hum of conversation mixing with the soft clinking of glasses and silverware across the room. azul was occupied near the front handling customers, leaving jade and floyd free to drift around the lounge at their leisure. unfortunately for you, that usually meant trouble. you had only wanted dinner. that was it. one peaceful meal. and yet the moment your plate arrived, complete with a beautifully prepared shrimp dish sitting directly in front of you, you realized with growing horror exactly how this looked. because floyd called you "shrimpy." constantly. every single day. and now here you were casually sitting in mostro lounge eating shrimp with the most dangerous eel twins in the school somewhere nearby. honestly, the mental image alone almost made you lose composure immediately.

you tried so hard not to laugh. really, you did. your shoulders were already shaking slightly as you slowly lifted another bite toward your mouth, staring down at the plate like it had personally betrayed you. if you looked at either of the twins right now, you were absolutely doomed. unfortunately, fate hated you. "neeeh~ what's got shrimpy lookin' all weird over here?" you physically froze. floyd had appeared beside your table so suddenly you nearly dropped your fork entirely. jade followed only a moment later, calm and elegant as always, though the curious tilt of his smile meant he had already noticed something suspicious too. "you seem rather entertained by something." jade observed pleasantly. "might we ask what is so... amusing?" you pressed a hand over your mouth immediately because the second you looked at floyd, whose nickname for you was currently colliding violently with the plate in front of you, the laughter became ten times harder to contain.

floyd blinked at you. then at your food. then back at you. "...eh?" there was a brief moment of silence before the realization hit him all at once. his grin stretched dangerously wide. "WAHAHAHA—" floyd nearly folded in half laughing right there in the middle of the lounge loudly enough that several nearby customers turned to stare. meanwhile you were fully losing the battle now too, shoulders shaking helplessly as you buried your face in your hands. "shrimpy's eating shrimp!" he cackled delightedly. "that's sooo messed up! you're cannibalizing your own kind!" "floyd, please do not harass the customer." jade sighed, though the amused twitch at the corners of his mouth betrayed him completely. you finally managed to wheeze out, "i didn't even think about it when i ordered!—" "that makes it even funnier." jade replied smoothly.