#i love leona but does he have a barbed dick? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

candidapple · 2 years

Note

Love your work on ao3!

I was wondering if I may request Leona with a female reader? If it isn’t too specific, could it be like a beach day and the reader is wearing a swimsuit for the first time and Leona’s getting jealous because she’s getting a lot of attention? NSFW if possible :)

Have a nice day!

a/n sorry this took so long, anon, it's just that i... got a little carried away. i hope you like how it turned out 👑💛

cw adult content, possessive behavior, some of the other boys get a little grabby, leona has a barbed dick. minors dni 🔞

leona kingscholar x f!reader

Ruggie stops slurping on his piña colada mocktail to push up the designer sunglasses he borrowed from Leona and give an exaggerated wince. “Oof. That one’s gonna hurt.”

You frown at Ruggie over the tops of your own oversized sunglasses. They were also bought with Leona’s money, but they were a gift rather than a hand-me-down. “What?” you ask Ruggie. “What’s going to hur —”

A pained cry startles a nearby flock of hungry seagulls into flight, and you snap your mouth shut, whipping around to face the source of the noise. Some distance away, Deuce is clutching his nose with both hands, the volleyball he and his teammates were playing with lying discarded at his feet. It must’ve smacked him right in the face; no wonder Ruggie cringed when he saw where it was headed.

You rise onto one knee, toes digging into your sand-speckled beach towel. “Deuce!” You want to run over there and check on him, but you don’t want to embarrass him by acting like a mother hen, either. “Are you alright?”

Deuce waves you off, flashing a weak thumbs up. You’re relieved to see that his nose isn’t bleeding, although his face does look a little red. At first you can’t tell if he’s flushed with mortification or sunburn, but decide on the latter when something Ace says makes him turn even redder. Deuce rounds on Ace and smacks him hard on the shoulder while everyone else on the volleyball court hoots and hollers, and you plop back down with a scoff. Idiots.

Ruggie snickers, widening his eyes and (poorly) feigning innocence when you shoot him a quelling look. “What? I’m only laughing ’cause he brought it on himself. If he didn’t wanna get beaned in the face, then he should’ve been paying attention to the game instead of you.”

You shift uncomfortably and glance at Leona, who’s stretched out on the towel between you and Ruggie, sunning himself. When he only flicks his tail in irritation at all the noise, you turn back to Ruggie and say, “I really don’t get it. I mean, it’s just a swimsuit.”

A fairly modest two-piece suit at that, comprised of high-waisted bottoms that cover your navel and a ruffled top that doesn’t even show cleavage; hardly a string bikini. Is it because you’re the only female student at an all-boys’ boarding school? Is it the novelty you present that has them so fascinated?

Ruggie rolls his eyes, sucking up the last dregs of his drink and smacking his lips. “Just a swimsuit, she says.” Impatiently, he hitches up the waistband of his dangerously loose trunks (also hand-me-downs, and dangerously loose because they belonged to Jack). “Lessee if you’re still singing that tune when the riot breaks out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say stiffly, then steal another peek at Leona. Still no reaction. Maybe he’s asleep? “That’s not going to happen, and even if it did — which it won’t — the Headmage would put a stop to it before anyone got hurt.”

You and Ruggie both look over at Crowley, who was very quick to volunteer his services as a chaperon when Kalim announced his intention to sponsor a trip to the local beach. He’s not doing much in the way of chaperoning at the moment, fast asleep in a reclined lounge chair with a paperback book draped over his face. You won’t be surprised if he winds up buried up to his neck in sand before the day’s out.

“Or not,” you mutter. You don’t know what you were thinking, really.

Just then, Leona rolls onto his stomach with an appropriately feline stretch and reaches lazily for the drink cooler, grumbling under his breath when he finds it empty. He props himself up on his folded arms, back arching and biceps tensing, the neck of his tanktop swooping low to flash dark brown nipples and a sculpted chest. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to; his accusatory glare speaks volumes. Sagas, even.

Ruggie, who’s holding a sweating bottle of Mystery Drink you didn’t even notice him take, answers Leona’s silent rebuke with a shrug. “Hey, if you wanted it that bad, you should’ve done somethin’ about it before somebody else came along and took it.”

For some reason, Ruggie’s looking at you when he says this. Leona makes a disgusted noise and lies back down with an imperious wave of his hand.

“One of you go get some more, then,” he says, and shuts his eyes to resume his nap.

You frown at him, not that he notices or cares. “Would you like us to fan you with palm fronds while we’re at it, Your Highness?”

Ruggie snickers into his Mystery Drink, and Leona smacks you on the hip with his tail without opening his eyes. Biting back a reluctant smile, you push to your feet and heave a pointed sigh.

“I’ll go get them,” you say, heading in the direction of the communal coolers. “You’re welcome.”

Ruggie lifts his drink in a respectful salute, but Leona just rolls onto his side, putting his back to you. You resist the urge to kick sand over his head and continue on your way.

A few of your classmates wave hello or call out to you in passing, but the majority of them can only seem to stare in captivated silence — some more discreetly than others. Self-consciously, you peer down the length of your body, at the curves of your breasts and stomach and the stretch of your bare legs. You shake your head, baffled, and hug your arms to your chest as you pick up your pace. Just a bit farther to the drink coolers, and then maybe you’ll detour to the changing room and throw on a t-shirt —

Or maybe you won’t be doing either of those things, seeing as a pair of long, lean arms just snaked around you from behind and squeezed.

“Where’re you off to in such a hurry, Shrimpy?”

Dammit. Of all the times to run into these two.

Jade steps neatly in front of you, looking distressingly good in a pair of sleek purple trunks, his cheeks and shoulders freckled with scintillating grains of golden mica. You imagine Floyd looks much the same. Too bad you’re in no mood to enjoy the view.

“Afternoon, Prefect. Are you enjoying your day out?”

Jade makes you sound like a dog at the park. You push at Floyd’s arm, but it’s no good; you don’t think he even felt it. The diplomatic route it is, then.

“Look, guys.” You try to sound firm but not rude, because you really don’t want to piss them off when Floyd’s in the perfect position to squeeze your innards out through your eye sockets. “It was nice of you to stop by and say hello, but I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Huh?” Floyd digs his fingers into your abdomen — not painfully hard, but with enough of a pinch to make you think of sharp teeth trying to burrow into your guts. Ulp. “You didn’t look busy. Why don’t you come and play with us instead?”

What, as in play with their food? Hard pass. “I really don’t think that’s —”

Jade smiles disarmingly. You are not disarmed. “No need to look so untrusting, now. We only wanted to ask if you were in the mood for a swim. The water’s quite pleasant, you know.”

You’re probably overreacting, but you think of every story you’ve ever heard about mermaids drowning hapless sailors at sea and instinctively start to struggle in Floyd’s arms, throwing desperate looks across the beach toward Leona and Ruggie. Leona still has his back to you, but Ruggie’s frowning in your direction. He leans down and says something to Leona, but you can’t tell if Leona responds, or if he’s even awake.

Either way, you can’t just wait around for them to rescue you. You’re preparing to execute Plan C (Plan C is biting Floyd on the arm and hoping you’re fast enough to outrun them) when someone reaches into the fray and pulls you free. You’re tucked safely into the newcomer’s side, their smooth skin brushing yours, a glossy tumble of coppery curls flirting with your peripheral vision.

“C’mon, boys, give the poor thing a little breathing room. How’s she supposed to enjoy her day of fun in the sun with everybody fighting over her like the last strawberry tart at an unbirthday party?”

Liquid relief courses through you. You’re so happy to see a friendly, ulterior motive-free face that you stop checking if Leona’s gotten up. “Cater!”

Cater hugs you around the shoulders and tosses you a wink. “Hey there, cutie. Thought you could use a Cay-Cay in shining armor.”

Floyd pouts, thwarted, but Jade only clasps his hands and smiles agreeably. “As gallant as it was of you to come riding to the lady’s rescue, Cater, I can assure you that we bore her no ill will.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Cater says breezily. “But sweetie pie over here was looking just a tad bit uncomfy from where I was sitting, so I thought I’d swing by and make sure. It’s an upperclassman’s job to look out for the little baby freshies, right?”

You give Cater’s waist a grateful squeeze, and he flashes you a camera-ready smile. “Hey, light-bulb moment.” Cater produces his phone from who-knows-where — do his swim trunks even have pockets? — and taps the screen awake with his thumb. “How ’bout we take a quick selfie? We’re bound to get a ton of likes with this scrumptious little thing taking center stage. Hashtag #BeachDay.”

Jade cups his chin and chuckles quietly — at your expense, you’re sure. “I certainly wouldn’t mind. What do you think, Floyd?”

“Um, actually,” you cut in, “I was just on my way to get changed, so…” You shrug Cater off and start to back away slowly. “Rain check?”

“Awww,” Floyd whines. “You’re gettin’ dressed already? How come?”

So people will stop staring at me like I’m an exotic animal at the zoo? “Uh, well, I kinda ran out of sunblock —”

“You can borrow some of mine,” Cater says helpfully. Shit. You scramble to formulate a new excuse.

“That’s, um, really sweet of you to offer, but the thing is if I don’t use this one specific brand of hypoallergenic sunscreen I tend to break out in super bad hives — not a pretty picture, let me tell you — so I’ll juuust — beonmywaynowbye!”

With that, you turn tail and flee, kicking up clouds of sand that irritate your eyes as you practically sprint to the changing room. You don’t even stop by the coolers first; if Leona’s that thirsty, he can march his ass over here and fetch his stupid drinks himself.

The changing rooms are located on a silty patch of land where the beach rises to meet the scrubby grass. The building itself is nothing to write home about; just a long, low wooden shack with an open doorway and a pitted tin roof, a half-deflated orange life preserver hanging off the northern wall as if to add a splash of color to an otherwise painfully drab view. To you, it might as well be the goddamn Palace of Versailles.

You begin to relax the moment you step inside the narrow building with its two rows of wooden changing stalls, your feet sifting through the thin layer of sand that’s been tracked in here by all the beachgoers who have come before you, and which will eventually be washed away the next time it rains. The shack isn’t wired and the rough-hewn walls are bare of the magestone-powered lamps that light much of NRC, but there’s enough sunshine filtering in through the doorway and the high paneless windows for you to see by. You pluck off your sunglasses, fold them, and set them down on the narrow ledge that serves as a shelf.

You should hurry up and change before someone comes looking for you, but you hesitate, frowning down at the glasses. They’re sleek and sturdy and they look like money, and when Leona first gave them to you you’d badgered him about the price until he finally told you just to shut you up. When you tried to return them, reluctant to accept such an expensive gift, he said if you didn’t want them then you might as well throw them out, since he had no use for them.

You kept them, obviously. Mostly out of spite, but also because you were not-so-secretly happy he’d thought of you.

You huff, irked (with yourself, with the twins, with him), and crouch by the pile of duffel bags and backpacks to dig for your things. So Leona didn’t throw a hissy fit just because some other guys looked at you sideways, so what? It’s not like you want a crazy possessive boyfriend who can’t stand to see you breathe in anyone else’s direction.

You successfully excavate your bag and yank the zipper open with a hiss of metal teeth. You tell yourself your eyes are stinging from all the sand you kicked up earlier, that’s all.

But, god, couldn’t Leona have acted just a little bit annoyed?

“The hell’re you hiding out in here for?”

You startle and clutch your shirt to your chest, right over the uneven kick of your heart. You swivel around to scowl at Leona, looming in the doorway and backlit by a halo of sunlight that dyes the tips of his hair and ears a dark, molten gold. It almost looks like he’s wearing a crown. You suppose that’s fitting.

“What am I doing?” You stand up, still gripping your shirt like a cotton shield. “What’re you doing, sneaking up on me like that? Should I get you a collar with a bell for your next birthday?”

He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the door jamb, then hooks one ankle over the other to complete the picture of perfect of indolence. “Try it and see what happens. And I didn’t sneak. Ain’t my fault your senses are so dull.” He wrinkles his lips back from his fangs and yawns. “I saw you scurrying off this way like a scared little mouse, so I followed. Got a problem with that?”

You twist your fingers in the folds of your shirt, tugging the elastic collar out of shape. “I’m just surprised you bothered to notice,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Of course, since Leona’s senses aren’t nearly so dull as yours, he hears every word. He puts back his ears, jaw ticking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you say curtly, and pull your shirt over your head before bending down to root for your denim cutoffs. Maybe you’ll head back to campus early; with the mood you’re in, what point is there in sticking around other than to make yourself even more miserable?

But then a broad, dry hand fits itself to the curve of your shoulder and tugs you back against a warm, firm chest, and your senses may be weaker than his but the scents of sweat and sunshine perfuming his skin are still strong enough to make your nostrils tingle. You didn’t even hear the sand rustle beneath his feet when he snuck up behind you, again.

Collar, you think, squeezing your hands into fists. Bell.

His jaw brushes your cheek as he lowers his head, long hair falling over his shoulder to tickle yours. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it.” He curls his other hand around your hip, palm burning you like a firebrand through the worn cotton of your shirt. “You know I hate that passive aggressive shit.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retort, thinking of the petty heights Leona’s capable of climbing whenever a certain fairy prince is involved. “And I’m not being passive aggressive. I just don’t feel like picking a fight with you right now.”

“Heh. Maybe I wouldn’t mind a fight.” The hand on your hip roams up and over to your belly, well-maintained claws plucking at your shirt. “What’re you wearing this thing for, anyway?”

You snag his wrist with half a mind to push him away, but you just end up holding on to him, feeling his pulse thump steadily away beneath your fingers. You lick the taste of salt from your lips and say, “I was thinking of heading home.”

“Yeah? What were you gonna do — walk the whole way back?” Leona hooks his fingers in your collar and tugs it down your shoulder, sweeping his thumb over the newly exposed skin to trigger a wave of shivers that start at your neck before crawling all the way down to the root of your spine. “What’s the matter, herbivore? Sun getting to your head?”

Something’s getting to your head, alright. “Sure,” you say thinly. “Let’s go with that.”

Leona makes a chuffing noise and presses his nose to the crook of your shoulder to breathe you in deep. You feel something tickling your leg and realize it’s his tail just before he slips it beneath your shirt to wrap it tightly around your thigh.

“That right?” he drawls.

You’re not surprised when he cups your breast and circles his palm over your nipple until it flares up full and stiff, but it still rocks you. Good thing he’s holding on to you, because you don’t trust your legs to support your weight right now.

He drags his tongue up your neck, and as you shudder in helpless reaction you wonder — not for the first time — how you might taste to him. Beneath the sweat and sunblock, do you taste savory or sweet? Can he taste the heat of your blood pounding beneath your skin?

Leona’s tongue retreats with a parting nip of shivery-sharp teeth. He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on it through two layers of fabric until it almost hurts, only to let go just when you’re ready to whine for him to stop. He draws you back against him and presses down on your stomach, coaxing your hips to rock.

“’Cause I can think of a few good reasons for you to stick around.”

You’re awfully interested in hearing these reasons, all the better if they’re accompanied by a practical demonstration, but then a dark smudge flutters by one of the windows and kicks you back to reality with a cold, hard jolt. The shadow you just saw was too small and too high up to be anything but a bird, but there’s a very good chance that next time, it won’t be just a bird.

You dig your nails into Leona’s wrists and feel him lift his head to look at you. “Not here. Anyone could walk in. There’s no door.”

“Huh?” Leona stills his movements, tail coiling tighter around your thigh before abruptly loosening. He growls low in his throat, then says in the aggrieved tone of someone who is being greatly inconvenienced, “Fuck, fine.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, but it’s for the best that you pumped the breaks. Exhibitionism as a concept might give you a wicked little thrill, but being fined for indecent exposure decidedly doesn’t. You start to turn in Leona’s arms, reaching up to give his satin-smooth cheek a conciliatory stroke.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We can always —”

Pick this up later, is what you were going to say, but the words get caught in your throat when Leona turns you the rest of the way around, settles your feet on top of his like he’s teaching you to dance, and walks you backwards until your back thumps gently against a wall. The sunlight beaming in through the open doorway is extinguished with a creak of unoiled hinges, leaving only the light coming through the narrow windows to see by, and you blink rapidly as your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden change. Leona shifts against you, and you hear the scraping click of a rusted lock being shot into place.

He’s shut the two of you up inside a changing stall.

“There’s a door now,” Leona informs you, just in case you missed it. His breath warms your lips and his lashes scrape your cheek, the green glow of his eyeshine flickering as he blinks. “Happy?”

“Um.” You grip the hem of his top and fidget, then go still when he presses his hips flush to yours, tail sliding up your leg to circle your thigh once more. “Someone could still walk in, though?”

“Let them,” Leona says dismissively, bowing his head to drag his teeth over your shoulder. You have to lock your knees to keep them from wobbling. “If they try to peep, I’ll kick their ass.”

“Because violence is the answer to everything,” you say, more breathlessly than you’d like. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason here, but you can’t help but press your face to his shoulder in turn to take a deep, shuddering inhale of his sweat-and-sunshine scent, tongue darting out to taste him.

Leona’s tail flexes around your thigh, the tufted tip rubbing up against the cleft of your cunt through your nylon bottoms. A gasp escapes your open mouth, and his answering laughter rumbles down your spine like a sine wave through a tuning fork.

“Not everything,” he says. He slips his hand down your back to give your ass a smug squeeze, and something inside of you snaps, then dissolves. Your sense of shame, maybe.

By now, your eyes have adjusted well enough for you to just make out the fanged curve of his smirk. You’re going to wipe that look right off his face, you decided, and push up on your toes — still overlapping his — to catch his full lower lip between your teeth and bite down, hard.

Leona snarls and jerks back his head, lip pulling free of yours like a stretched rubber band snapping back into shape, then presses back in to take your lip between his teeth. He bites down, more gently than you had, but it still stings because he has fangs. He worries your lip between those fangs like it’s a tender cut of meat he wants to savor, only relenting when you yield with a whine. He swipes his tongue over the bloodless dents his teeth left behind, then tilts his head and gathers you close to give you a proper kiss.

Your lips bloom beneath his, one hand fisting tightly in his shirt while the other burrows beneath his hair to curl around his nape. You licked the taste of salt from your mouth only a few moments ago but now you taste it again, along with the tang of sunblock and the fizzy sweetness of some soft drink. Leona’s tongue is rough in your mouth, the heavy ridge of his hips pinning you in place against the half-rotted wall, which groans in protest beneath your combined weight.

You are briefly concerned about splinters, then quickly forget to care when you feel a tugging on the hem of your shirt. Leona’s trying to undress you, and you know from experience that he’ll just tear your clothes and replace them later if you don’t move fast enough to suit His Highness.

You obligingly raise your arms, then help him wrestle out of his own shirt, blue arcs of static crackling through the air when you drag it over his head. You smooth down his mussed hair and twine your arms around his neck, every square inch of your skin prickling with delight at being pressed so close to his. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your bruised lips a slick, swollen echo of how you feel between your legs. You turn your head to kiss him again, but he denies you, nipping your chin before dropping to his knees.

Your knees start to wobble again, and you brace your hands against his shoulders to keep yourself standing. You’ll never get used to seeing him like this, never get used to knowing that you’re the only person he’d ever kneel for, that he’d make his beautiful face into a throne just for you. You’ve already sweated through your bottoms in the heat, but now a pulse of anticipation slicks your cunt with a thicker, more viscous kind of moisture, your suit’s stretchy nylon crotch clinging to you like sticky paper.

Leona wets his lips and inhales through his nose, scenting your arousal like a wine bouquet. You whimper, knees finally giving out, and he catches you. Squeezes your hips. His hands are so big his fingers curve all the way around to your ass.

“Hey. Were you really gonna make me wait until later?” He licks a filthy trail up your inner thigh, spined tongue abrading your skin like a pumice stone. “Smells to me like you wouldn’t’ve lasted that long.”

That earns him a tug on his hair, another privilege afforded only to you. “Shut up.” The sharp tone you meant to adopt is belied by the obvious quiver in your voice. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Another slow, indulgent lash of his tongue makes you wonder if he enjoys the taste of salt on your skin, be it sweat or sea spray. “You like it.”

You do — not that you’d ever admit to it. “I told you to shut — ah.”

Your legs jerk, thighs trembling so hard your knees would knock together if Leona hadn’t shouldered between them to mouth at your sex through your swimsuit bottoms. The fabric is just thin enough for you to feel each individual spine on his tongue as it scrapes over your lips and clit like sandpaper, rubbing you raw. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, but it does skirt the edge of too much, to the point that you’re already squirming even with the fabric in the way.

He lifts one hand to tap you smartly on the ass, making you jolt. “Knock that off and hold still. You’re gonna gimme a black eye.”

You bristle at the order but lock your knees and do as he says, because if you don’t he might stop, and you don’t want to have to beg him to keep going. Leona chuffs, pleased, and hooks his fingers in your bottoms to ease them down an inch, then two, uncovering your navel and hipbones. He sweeps his tongue up the slope of your lower belly, so you have to fight even harder not to squirm — but then he stops, and hisses. Really hisses, not at all like a human but exactly like a cat, a wet, angry, spitting sound that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

“The fuck is this?”

The fuck is what? you wonder dazedly. You look down, eyes skittering past the angry glow of his to land on the hands wrapped jealously around your waist. Only then do you comprehend what he meant: etched across your stomach are a series of thin, shallow scratches, brilliantly red in color and obviously the work of someone’s nails. Looking at them, your heart gives a hard, anxious thump.

“It’s nothing serious,” you say quickly. Your hands flutter like nervous birds across Leona’s shoulders, which feel coiled to spring. “I’m not hurt. Floyd was just messing around earlier and I guess he must’ve scratched me on accident.”

Leona’s upper lip lifts at one corner to flash a curved canine tooth. He’s not angry with you, but you’re still shaken by the intensity of his reaction to something so minor. What happened to his earlier indifference?

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as you’d thought?

“Yeah, I know,” Leona grumbles, surprising you into silence. “You think I didn’t notice him hanging off of you like a damn coat? I was about to come over there and knock him on his ass when you ran off.”

He rocks forward on his knees and pulls a mouthful of your flesh between his pointed teeth, sucking hard like he intends to cover Floyd’s marks with his own, then releases it with a damp pop just as you begins to ache. He leans his forehead against your stomach like he doesn’t want you to see his face, ears laid flat along his skull.

“Bad enough I had to listen to Hunt singing your praises from all the way across the damn beach earlier.” The low register of his voice rumbles through your abdomen like an echo in a chamber, sinking into the cradle of your hips to hum through your clit. “Now I’ve gotta go gut a fuckin’ fish, too.”

Ah. So he is jealous.

You school the dopey grin that wants to unfurl across your face and say, reasonably, “Rook sings everyone’s praises. And you’re not going to gut anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona says in a way that makes it clear he’s not really listening and is only acknowledging that you spoke at all to keep you off his back. He tugs your bottoms down another inch, bunching them up around your hips, then wraps his tail around your right ankle and pulls. “Now c’mon and lift your foot so I can get you outta these fuckin’ things.”

Your stomach swoops as if he reached inside you and tugged. Oh, you think, okay, and hurriedly lift your foot, clutching Leona’s shoulders for balance while he works the bottoms down your legs. With one leg freed, you start to lower your foot so you can lift the other just for Leona to leave the bottoms slung around your left ankle and rise fluidly from his crouch, muscles flickering beneath his skin like shadows cast by the noonday sun. He braces one hand beneath your ass to hoist you up and pushes the other between your legs to squeeze your cunt.

You yelp and cling to Leona’s arms, your head spinning drunkenly as the floor falls out from under you. Chuckling, Leona nuzzles into the crook of your neck and dips two fingers inside of you as if testing the waters. When he feels how wet you already are, sweating in the humidity and sticky with arousal, the folds of your cunt squishing beneath his fingers like carpels of pulpy, overripe fruit, he breathes out a satisfied groan that seems to resonate in the very core of your stomach.

You answer that groan with a pleading whine, hugging his hips with your thighs and digging your toes into his waistband to try and push it down. You can feel the bulk of his dick through his shorts, so close to where you need him but not close enough, driving you half crazy with hot, frustrated want.

Leona gives your throat a reprimanding nip. “Pipe down. Someone could walk in, remember?”

Leave it to Leona to throw those words back in your face while he does everything in his power to ensure that you can’t pipe down, angling his wrist to stroke his thumb over your clit and thrust his fingers deeper inside you like he’s searching an oyster he dug out of the sand for pearls. You tighten up around him, digging your nails into his arms to press little red half moons into his sun-warmed flesh.

If he’s gonna play it like that, then so will you.

“If you’re that worried about someone walking in on us” — you push your heels against the small of his back, nudging his trunks down another inch — “then why don’t you hurry up and fuck me before they do?”

Leona snarls in your ear, and your scalp pulls taut, the hair on the nape of your neck standing straight up. “Who the fuck’re you ordering around?”

He pulls his fingers out of you with a harsh twist of his wrist and yanks up your top, smearing your breasts with warm, gooey streaks of your own slick, then shoves his hand back down between your legs to push at his shorts until his cock springs free to slap your cunt. Your thighs tense and your clit tingles, heart leaping into your throat.

Leona huffs impatiently and hauls you closer, claws scratching lightly at your ass. “Why’re you clamming up now? You’ve taken it before.” He curls his hand around the root of his cock and presses the damp, flared head to your opening like he’s nocking an arrow in a bow. “You’re the one who said to hurry up and fuck you, so let me fuck you.”

Your cunt wrings out another gush of syrupy moisture at the blunt reminder of what he intends to do to you, and because you want him to do it to you, you try your best to unclench even as your thighs begin to shake from the strain of staying spread around his hips. Leona grunts through his teeth and hefts you up a little higher, cockhead slipping further down your slit to breach that first shallow inch. Shallow, yes, but still deep enough for you to feel a familiar prickle.

Unlike him, you are entirely and mundanely human, but you still arch your back like a cat in heat to take him deeper, your clit throbbing so hard you can feel the pulse of it in your ears as the barbs crowning his shaft rake your cunt like dozens of blunted claws. The first time you saw them, you nearly balked, certain that the two of you would never be able to fit together without blood and pain. Obviously, he proved you wrong — again and again and again.

Now he scrapes his cuspids down the apple of your cheek and laps up more of your sweat with a pass of his rough tongue. “Maybe you don’t want me to hurry.” He drags his hand up your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist to tilt your hips and sink in another prickling inch. “Maybe you want somebody to walk in and see.”

You mean to tell him that’s the very last thing you want, but all that comes out is a gasp, that wicked little thrill from earlier returning in full force to quiver in your belly and tighten the walls of your cunt. Leona hisses through his teeth at the squeeze and pushes forward till his chest crushes your breasts flat, hooking your knees over his elbows so he can palm two covetous handfuls of your ass. You feel strung up, weightless, pinned on his cock as if on a spear. Your legs tremble harder, your toes curling so tight they cramp.

“Fuck,” he bites out, half growling, half laughing. “You really do, don’t you? Who would’ve thought the little herbivore had it in her?”

When he says “in her,” he braces his feet and thrusts up his hips, fucking the rest of the way in until there’s no more room left, barbs snagging on your walls to hook him deep inside of you. Those barbs catch against your clit on the way out and your foot gives a reflexive kick, a garbled moan falling from your mouth. Leona licks your chin, a gruff purr rumbling in his throat. It’s a comforting gesture, but if you thought it meant he was finished teasing you, you really should’ve known better.

“You want those assholes outside to see me fucking you like this? Huh?” His tail bats your legs as it lashes back and forth, his spined shaft scouring your cunt as he fills you and fills you and fills you with cock. “You want them to know I’m the only one who can?”

His next thrust knocks your ass against the wall but you are too far gone to spare even a fleeting thought for splinters, for anything that’s not the wet glide of his cock inside you, stuffing you to the brim. There’s sand between your toes and a growing ache in your back and you are going to walk away from this stiff and sore all over, and you don’t care, you don’t care so long as he keeps fucking you just. Like. This. You duck your head to lick a trickle of sweat from the swell of his chest and he growls, butting your head aside with a thrust of his chin so he can run his nose up your neck and suck your earlobe between his teeth.

“But I’m not gonna let ’em look,” he mumbles, grinding his hips in a tight, hot circle. He pushes your knees back till they almost touch your shoulders, winding every muscle in your body tense as a spring with your cunt coiled taut at the center. “I’ll fuckin’ kill them if they look.”

Something in you seizes but doesn’t release, trembling, waiting. Waiting for him to drag his cock halfway out of your sex, barbs raking your clit to pull your building orgasm out of you by the heels. You bite at his shoulder with your nubby human teeth, stomach cramping, cunt pulsing, and he buries his groan in the crook of your neck like he doesn’t want you to hear it. One-two-three more thrusts plant him so deep inside you you can feel his head pressing at the back of your throat as a treacly warmth floods your cunt and trickles down your thighs, dousing you in the scent of him.

You don’t doubt that was his plan all along.

You come down in fits and shivering starts, your orgasm’s pulsating aftershocks growing weaker and weaker with each passing minute. Enough of those minutes have gone by in total silence for you to wonder if Leona’s fallen asleep standing up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he grunts. He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder, either because he’s too lazy to bother or because his cheek’s been glued there by your sweat. “The next time some grabby asshole touches you without your permission, you fucking tell me.”

You blink over his shoulder at the dust motes spiraling through a bright beam of sunlight, a ticklish kind of feeling stirring in your chest.

Oh, you think. Not just jealous, then — worried, too. You hug him as tightly as you can with your noodly arms and legs and comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, even daring to give him a brief scratch behind the ears. He grumbles and butts your cheek lightly with his forehead, and you smile.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Just don’t get yourself expelled for my sake, alright?”

Leona scoffs. “If Crowley didn’t expel me for wrecking the Spelldrive Stadium, then he’s not gonna kick me out over a couple of snot-nosed brats who had it comin’.” He shifts his feet, dick tugging at your insides and making you wince. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

You let him ease you out of the human pretzel he’d contorted you into, pulling a face when his cum oozes down your leg to splatter on the floor. Leona smirks faintly, unrepentant. Not that you ever expected him to be.

“Hold on.” He hitches up his trunks with one hand and unlocks the door with the other, ducking outside. He returns a moment later with a t-shirt dangling from his fist and proceeds to wipe you clean, gentler in his post-coital contentment than he ever is otherwise.

The shirt isn’t his, or yours. You frown at him, tugging your swimsuit into place while he loops his tanktop over his head. “Whose is that?”

Leona just shrugs and tosses the soiled shirt aside. Someone’s going to be extremely unhappy about that. “Leona, you can’t just —”

“Trust me, you do not wanna go in there.”

You freeze and shoot Leona a panicked look, but he just scrubs his hands through his hair and yawns, sleepy and satiated. You don’t hear the rest of the conversation clearly, just an indistinct back-and-forth, but it doesn’t last long. When the voices outside fall silent, Leona flicks his ears and turns to leave.

“C’mon.”

You really don’t want to, but it’s not like you can hide in here all day — or you could, but you doubt Leona would let you. Resigned to your fate, you grab your sunglasses and head outside to face the music, the music in this case being Ruggie’s disgusted scowl. You don’t ask him how long he’s been standing guard for; you’re probably better off not knowing.

“Ugh, seriously?” Ruggie mutters, already turning away like he can’t bear to look at the two of you. You can’t say you blame him. “You owe me a week’s worth of meals for this, Leona. No, two. No, four —”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Leona presses a hand to the small of your back to nudge you forward, and it’s only when you feel his bare skin on yours that you realize you forgot to change into your t-shirt. Peeking at Leona’s profile and taking stock of the aching tenderness that persists between your legs, you decide you actually don’t mind going without it so long as Leona’s there to scare your more tenacious admirers off.

Crowley’s being buried up to his neck in sand by Epel and Grim, and Ruggie’s going on about how he doesn’t get paid enough for this crap. You take Leona’s warm hand in yours and he lets you keep it, tail twining loosely around your thigh.

You think you’ll have a talk with Kalim about funding another trip to the beach sometime very soon.

#leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #!candid fic #!apples of my eye

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mystical-lemonade · 3 years

Note

Hii may I ask for the same smut headcanons of their first time with mc (gn) but for Trey, leona, vil and malleus if that’s okay! Love your work btw!!!❤️❤️

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Wordcount: 2,305

Pairings: Trey Clover x gn! reader, Leona Kingscholar x gn! reader, Vil Shoenheit x gn! reader, Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

Trey isn't very experienced, but he does vaugely know what he's doing

At least he knows what he likes!

He discusses what he wants, and what he'd prefer to do tools wise

Thats right Trey brings out the discussion on what kind of lube you'd prefer to use during. If there's a particular brand on condom you need him to use. What kinks you are and aren't into. On top of your boundries and your safe word

This man is extremely prepared

In general Trey is very sweet and gentle

Never hurting or degrading you

Only the kindest of words and the softest of touches

Does not want to hurt you and especially doesn't want to see any marks of injury he caused to you

Will use his tie to restrain your hands during the foreplay

Where he has you keep your hands depends on the position you are in

In doggy style he'd have your hands behind your back so he could fuck you into the mattress. With you on your back he'd have them tied to the headboard.

Trey is absolutely a thigh man

He will kiss and nip and worship them to the ends of the earth

Wants you to sit on his face

Let him use your thighs as earmuffs as he uses his mouth to get you off

He is a king when it comes to oral

Trey is in fact a pleasure dom. So expect to orgasm more than a few times

You will probably be crying from how overstimulated you are

Don't worry though, Trey will wipe kiss away your tears while murmuring reassurances

"Shhh its okay sweetie~ I know it's a lot dear, but I think you can take one more. Can't you my sweet baby~ if you need me to stop, you know the safeword~"

Has a bit of a sir kink. Call him Sir in bed and you will be in for a treat~

Trey would make you black put from how hard he'd have you orgasm

He will however take amazing care of you after sex

His aftercare routine is top tier

He immediately gets you a small glass of water, while he goes to run you a bath

Washes your body and hair for you, then leaves you to relax in the tub for a few minutes

While you relax he changes the bedding, gets you the softest of nightclothes and a snack with a cup of calming tea

Then he takes you out of the bath, helps you towel off and dresses you

The snack and tea are given to you while he puts on some clean pyjamas

Then after all that you two crawl into bed and cuddle until you fall asleep in each others arms

And Trey does all this while praising you and offering up so many reassurances and compliments. The. Whole. Time!

While Leona doesn't have the highest libido in the world he does have experience

Which as his partner, is certainly a good thing.

When he realises that you two are at a point where sex is a thing that is going to happen and happen soon

Leona sits you down to let you know a few things before you get into the thick of it

"Look, I just need to get this out of the way before anything happens, so there's no unpleasant surprises. If we have penetrative sex, I will hurt you. This isn't some dumb boast about the size of my cock, I'm being serious. You will get hurt. I'm a lion beastman, Herbivore~ it means that I have a barbed penis. So I hope you're a little masochistic"

He absolutely would not care if you told him that, bleeding every time you let him stick his dick into you wasn't your scene.

Afterall there are other fun things you can do that don't involve any penetration

Though to be fair, he wouldn't give you oral

Thinks that as the king of the bedroom, such a task is beneath him.

Because this man refuses to bottom the first time. Outright refuses to.

So you know, just let him hold on to his sense of pride and just be on top.

But if you are willing, then be warned, this man will be cumming inside of you

Its too much effort for Leona to time himself and then pull out.

Not to mention his slight breeding kink

Does it matter if you are actually able to have kids? Not at all

Its more an expression of claiming you as his more than anything else

He does not groom down there too thoroughly to be honest

So he has a bush of hair. It almost looks like a full beard that's how much hair he has

Honestly he probably doesn't wash down there either. Most he does is splash a little water at his balls and he considers it good

So he may be a little smelly

As it is the first time between you two Leona would want to impress. Set a precedent if you will

He will be touching your butt as much as possible throughout the whole thing

Just absolutely loves your butt

Will spank it, not very hard. Just playfully.

Fight him off a little, talk back. It makes things more fun

Leona is in fact a Brat Tamer

So the more you play fight the more fun he has

You may or may not be into pain but boy howdy is Leona

If you do not scratch his back hard enough to leave marks he will be very disappointed. Both in you and in his own performance

Please bite him

Bite him hard. Hard enough that he bleeds preferably

But if not, hard enough to bruise will suffice

Is probably going to spit on you

Spit back at him, its only fair

He doesn't really know why he likes it so much but he thinks its fun

And to him, that's what sex, especially your first time having sex with someone, should be about: having fun.

After all is said and done, Leona would do the bare minimum of aftercare.

And by that I mean, he asks if you're doing okay, will nod once you say you are, wrap you in a hug and go the fuck to sleep

So not great at it.

If you told him you'd like to have a bath or a glass of water, he'd grumble a bit about having to get up but he'd do it.

But you do have to ask for more than just a cuddle and a nap

Also has experience in the bedroom department

Which is great because it means he knows what he likes and can communicate it to you

Another person to sit you down beforehand for a chat

Vil likes to explain what he's personally into and set boundaries.

Absolutely discusses a safe word system. He personally prefers the stop light method, with a few of his own additions.

"Alright Sweet Potato. I'll be checking up on you throughout, and I'd like an answer in one of a few colours. Red is for if you need to stop immediately because you're in physical pain. Yellow is if a slight adjustment needs to be made or if you want me to slow down. Blue is for when anythings I've said or made you do is too far and you need the scene to stop. Orange is if you'd like me to tone down what I say and do. And Green is for when everything is going great and you'd like to continue. Is that good for you?"

Once boundaries are discussed and set in place you two can let the fun begin, naturally

Vil is very much into humiliating his partners

He will make you beg for release, and then give you a very humiliating way that you can do it. And you may only use that way

For example he will tell you that you can only get off by humping his shoe

And then onve you do, he'd make you clean yourself off his shoe by licking it clean

Will call you slut, whore, bitch, really any sort of degrading nicknames

Vil absolutely loves when you agree with his teasing

Tell him you are a dirty little cum slut all for him and he'll be into it so much

Like he said he would, he constantly asks how you're doing and adjusts himself as fit

Likes to humiliate you by edging you over and over again, making you beg and plead and cry if you want him to let you cum

Then once he gives in, you will be overstimulated to tears.

"You wanted this didn't you whore? You begged me to let you cum, so you'll stay there like a good little cum slut and take everything I give you"

Will go down on you like a man starved

The only time he will ever allow himself to get his face all messy

Of course he would make you clean your fluids off his face

Praise and worship him

He is your God, and as such you should be willing to worship him

Tell him how amazing he is. How good you feel because of him

He would also appreciate it if you would let him step on you. Especially with his heels on.

But he realises that its maybe a little intense for your first time together

He will be attempting to negotiate that particular kink into your sex lives

Vil promises you would enjoy it!

When all is said and done Vil is the aftercare K I N G

He will pamper you as if you were a king

Runs you a bath

Gives you a nice little massage

Tells you how great you were, that you did wonderful. Telling you how thankful he is for you

All the after coitus snuggles will be yours

Malleus is very formal with how he propositions you

In fact he does a dance, much like a bird of paradise would.

He worked for years on perfecting his courting dance

After all only one person would ever see it and that one person would be his forever

Its a nice display! But definitely a little weird

Especially as a form of like, foreplay

Can you tell this is the first time this man has ever thought about sex? He absolutely has no experience

Because of how formal Malleus is and his lack of sexual experience he is extremely stiff when it comes to actually doing the deed

Kinda just hopes you'll take the lead and tell him what you want from him, he's never done this before so he doesn't want to mess it up.

Knows vaguely what to do based off what Lilia told him, but really has no idea how to execute it in a way that is pleasurable to you

Guide him to where exactly you want him. Tell him what you want him to do

He will oblige

Malleus finds himself more inclined to be a top.

He likes giving you pleasure more than sitting back and receiving

Thats not to say he would complain if you were to reciprocate his actions~ far from it!

Malleus loves giving you oral

The thought of tasting the person whom he's claimed as his just sets something off inside him

He has a long ass tongue and great control of said tongue. Like he could tie all sorts of complicated knots in a cherry stem kind of control

Will use that to his full advantage to lick and suck at your most sensitive of places, all to coax you into a stunning orgasm.

Seriously, you'll be stunned. You'll definitely be seeing white.

As mentioned previously, Malleus wants to top, so he'd like it very much if you let him have penetrative sex with you

Not terribly crazy with the positions he puts you in, but know he will be watching you for your reactions

So he can adjust what he's doing to make things even better for you

Now I'm certain I don't need to inform you of this, but Malleus is a tall man. Which means he is quite well endowed.

And because he's not human, his penis is a little unconventional.

By that I mean he doesn't have any external balls, or pubes. Just some dark scale patterns that are dark near the base and fade to a lighter colour when they get close to the tip

His penis is also textured because of this

So just know that there is a very good chance you will have a slight belly bulge from him being inside you

It turns him on to such a degree that can't be explained in any words other than F e r a l

He just loses all decorum and goes nuts on you

Also has a breeding kink that goes hand in hand with the belly bulge!

Does it matter if you can't actually bare his young? Nope! Malleus will still act like you can and fill you up

You will be a twinkie by the end if the night my friend

Covers you in hickies, they are seriously everywhere.

Leaves bruises on your thighs and hips from how tightly he was holding them during the devil's tango~

This man did not know he had a marking kink but wow does he definitely have one of those now

On another note, the fact that the more you two fuck, the hotter Malleus gets is interesting

No seriously. Because he's able to breathe fire, and you know, is a dragon

His skin heats up during sex

Which could be quite pleasurable~

Malleus also let's a puff of slightly green smoke out of his mouth when he cums. Its just a quirk of his~

Oof smut is always a struggle to write for me. I hope you can't tell, and that you all enjoyed the post~

If you liked this post and want to see more from me feel free to send in a request or take a look at the previous wishes. See you soon~

Sincerely, Jupiter

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