#I will be writing this out into a drabble or something soon

[thelazyhermits]

One scene that, for a while now, I've been wanting to write is one where Yuu talks to Trey following the library discussion in Book 1 since there's something about the Trey & Riddle dynamic that I've never really seen explored that I personally think played a big role in Trey's reluctance to stop Riddle, even though it was never really mentioned in canon, meaning this is just my HC.

After being inspired by the first TWST novel, I decided to finally write that scene and share my HC, all of which will be underneath the cut.

Also, for those unfamiliar with my writing, my Yuu is female. I'm mentioning that cause her gender gets mentioned once at the end of the drabble, so those who prefer to read G/N readers may not be interested in this particular drabble.

For those who do decide to read this drabble, I hope y'all enjoy it! 😊

Once it’s decided that both Ace and Deuce will challenge Riddle for leadership of the Heartslabyul dorm, Crowley takes his leave, so he can get the paperwork prepared for tomorrow’s duels.

The rest of you also soon disperse, with Trey heading in the direction of the Hall of Mirrors while the rest of you head for Ramshackle dorm since Ace and Deuce obviously don’t want to go back to their dorm after the unpleasant events of today’s unbirthday party.

Or at least, you start to head in the direction of your dorm before having a last minute change of heart since there’s something you really need to get off your chest that you don’t think you can afford to put off to a later time.

That’s why you tell Grim, Ace, and Deuce to go on ahead and that you’ll catch up with them after you take care of something, catching them all by surprise.

In order to avoid getting questioned by them, you immediately run off after you let them know that you have something you need to do.

Thankfully, they don’t chase after you since the conversation you’re about to have is one that would be better without an audience.

Moving as fast as you can, you hurry toward the direction of the Hall of Mirrors, and much to your relief, a few minutes later, you catch sight of the person you’re looking for.

“Trey-senpai!”

Upon hearing you call out to him, Trey, who had been walking with his head down and his shoulders hunched, jolts before turning to look at you in surprise. “Yuu?”

After taking a moment to catch your breath once you come to a stop before him, you make sure no one else is around before bluntly asking, “You’re not actually afraid of Riddle-senpai and his Unique Magic, are you?”

Trey stares at you with noticeable surprise, obviously caught off guard by your question. “Huh?”

“Earlier, when Ace was condemning you for your inaction, I stayed quiet since I pretty much agreed with everything he said.” You remark, “With the exception of him accusing you of being afraid of Riddle-senpai ‘cause I know you’re not.”

You look Trey dead in the eye. “You’re not afraid OF him. You’re afraid FOR him, ‘cause you don’t want him to suffer ‘cause of whatever decisions you make, like what happened in the past.”

Flinching, as if he’s been hit, a wide-eyed and now noticeably pale Trey takes an unconscious step back as he asks, “H-How…? Did Che’nya…?”

Your expression softens upon seeing his visceral reaction, which proves just how profoundly impacted Trey had been by the visit Riddle’s mother made to his family’s bakery after she found out about her son sneaking out behind her back when Riddle and Trey were children.

Of course, you’re not surprised, considering how frightened Trey had been when you saw that particular memory of Riddle’s past. The bespectacled boy was on the verge of tears just like Riddle, not that you can blame them, since any child would’ve been terrified after seeing Riddle’s angry mother, who really should’ve known better than to look so threatening while children were present.

Upon remembering how scared those two kids had been in your last dream, you have to take a quick, deep breath to rein in your anger since the last thing you want is to lash out at Trey when that anger should only be directed at that woman, whom you’d love nothing more than to challenge to a cage match despite your usual aversion to them.

Once you’ve taken a moment to collect yourself, you finally answer Trey’s question. “This will probably be really hard for you to believe, but since the night Ace got collared, I’ve been having these dreams that show me Riddle-senpai’s memories. Don’t ask me how or why ‘cause I have absolutely no idea. Something like this has never happened to me before.”

Trey’s eyes grow even wider. “You saw Riddle’s memories? Seriously?”

Nodding, you proceed to reel off all the memories you’ve witnessed the last two nights, which mostly consisted of all the intense study sessions Riddle had with his mother, although last night you also saw some memories involving Trey and Che’nya.

When you recall the last memory you saw before you woke up this morning, you frown, “Before I woke up, I saw a memory of you and Che’nya-san bringing Riddle-senpai to your family’s bakery ‘cause you wanted Riddle-senpai to get the chance to try a strawberry tart, which was something he had been admiring from afar for a while since his mother told him that eating one would be like eating poison.”

As Trey’s posture noticeably stiffens, you continue, “At first, I really enjoyed the memory since you all looked so happy, and it was nice seeing Riddle-senpai smiling so much and enjoying that strawberry tart with all his heart, but…”

Your frown deepens. “Then, I took notice of the clock on the wall and realized that he was gonna be late getting back to his house ‘cause he got so caught up in enjoying the tart. I immediately began to panic ‘cause I didn’t know what his mother would do if she found out what he had been doing with you guys, but sadly, there was nothing I could do to change a moment from the past.”

“Even worse, I woke up before I could see the fallout of Riddle-senpai getting home late.” You grimace, “And it gave me this strong sense of foreboding, which was pretty accurate, considering how today’s unbirthday party turned out.”

While Trey nods in agreement, wearing a grimace of his own, you inform, “After we left the party, we ran into Che’nya-san who told us to talk to you about Riddle-senpai. While Grim and the others went on ahead after Che’nya-san gave that advice and seemingly disappeared, I stuck around, so I could try to get more info outta him since I had a feeling he hadn’t actually left the area.”

“I wanted to know if the reason you two weren’t trying to stop Riddle-senpai was related to what happened after that bakery visit ‘cause the two kids I got to know after watching Riddle-senpai’s memories were the type of people who would’ve tried to stop him by now rather than let him continue down the dangerous road he’s currently on.” You continue, “Obviously, something had happened between what happened in that last memory and recent events, and it changed you and Che’nya-san and how you both act around Riddle-senpai.”

“Of course, Che’nya-san wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” You huff, “Instead, after he found out about the weird dreams I’ve been having, he suggested that I take a cat nap, so I could see for myself what happened next since that’s the only way I’d really understand.”

Trey weakly chuckles, “Typical Che’nya….”

“Since I really didn’t have any better ideas, I followed his advice and took a nap while we were waiting for you at the library.” You reveal, “And amazingly enough, I did have a follow up memory dream that showed me what happened to Riddle-senpai after his mother found out what he had been doing every day during his independent study time.”

“That’s how I know about how she punished him and took away what little freedom he had, which meant he could no longer see you and Che’nya-san.” You quietly add, all the while cursing that woman in your heart for all the pain you had to witness Riddle endure, because she treated her son more like a prized show dog she was grooming rather than an actual human child with thoughts and feelings of his own. 

Trey winces, “I see…”

Averting his gaze, Trey drags a hand through his hair before sighing, “You were right earlier. I’m not afraid of getting collared, not really. I’m afraid that I’ll cause Riddle even more suffering, even though I rationally know that he’ll suffer regardless of what I do.”

“I just…” He hesitates before releasing another, much heavier sigh. “I don’t want to make things even worse for him. He’s already gone through enough as it is…”

It’s just as you had guessed. Trey isn’t refraining from stopping Riddle simply because he’s afraid of rocking the boat and can’t bear to condemn the redhead when he knows exactly why his childhood friend acts the way he does, although those are factors at play here.

More than anything, Trey just can’t bring himself to take action, because, the last time he did that, Riddle paid the price, and Trey still can’t completely forgive himself for that.

Naturally, you can’t allow Trey to remain stuck in such a foolish mindset.

Catching him completely off guard, you quickly close the distance between the two of you and reach up to give his forehead a hard flick. “You big dummy. While Ace was right that you’re partially responsible for Riddle-senpai’s current behavior, you were NOT at all responsible for Riddle-senpai’s suffering back then. That responsibility fully rests on his mother’s shoulders.”

As his wide eyes look into yours, you firmly hold his gaze. “You and Che’nya-san did nothing wrong. On the contrary, I wanna commend you two for being the reasons for the only truly happy memories I got to see. In all of his memories that I saw, Riddle-senpai always looked the happiest when he was with you guys.”

“Yes, Riddle-senpai suffered a lot because he came into contact with you two, but I know he doesn’t regret meeting you guys, and if given the opportunity to go back in time, I bet he’d still choose to meet you two since his time with you guys was just that precious to him.” You continue, “Because, even if it came at a very high cost, the happiness you gave him was still worth it in the end.”

You can say that so confidently, because, if something like that had happened to you, whose childhood has some strong similarities to Riddle’s, that’s how you would’ve felt. 

No matter what kind of fallout you would’ve had to endure, you would’ve never regretted making friends and experiencing true kindness and care for the first time.

Because some things are just worth the pain. 

Trey’s surprised expression quickly becomes pained. “It’d be nice if that was the truth, but-”

“Tell me, is it just a coincidence that two childhood friends are the dorm and vice dorm leaders of Heartslabyul, or did Riddle-senpai ask you to be his vice dorm leader?” You ask, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.

Appearing both surprised and confused, Trey just stares for a moment before answering, “Riddle asked me to be his vice dorm leader after he became dorm leader.”

“And why did he ask you, of all people, to take that important position?” You raise an eyebrow. “Surely, it wasn’t just because you’re both childhood friends and because he wanted someone who could always play peacemaker between him and the other members of your dorm. Someone like Riddle-senpai wouldn’t pick someone for only reasons like that, right?”

Rather than give you an answer, Trey remains quiet. Whether it’s because Riddle never actually gave him a reason for asking him to be his vice dorm leader or because he doesn’t understand why you’re asking these types of questions, you’re not sure, but it doesn’t matter since you already know the answer to your question.

With a huff, you forcefully poke his chest. “The main reason Riddle-senpai appointed you over everyone else is obvious. He TRUSTS you, more than anyone.”

“And if he trusts you, that means he still cares about you, just as much as he did back when you were kids.” You reveal, “It means he doesn’t hold you at all responsible for what happened back then.”

“Because, if he did, he wouldn’t want you constantly by his side, now would he?” You knowingly ask.

Trey’s eyes grow large as his breath catches. “T-That’s…”

After a long pause, Trey releases a shaky breath as he hangs his head. “He really doesn’t blame me at all, does he? Despite everything…”

Your expression softens. “The only person he ever blamed was himself for breaking his mother’s rules and disappointing her. I never saw him blame anyone else, especially not you or Che’nya-san.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Trey bitterly mutters as he slowly shakes his head.

Briefly, you look at him with noticeable sympathy because of what he had to go through as a kid thanks to Riddle’s tyrant mother before you harden your features since you can’t afford to go soft on him now.

“If you feel this bad about past events, which weren’t even actually your fault, you’re only going to be even more miserable when Riddle-senpai endures even more suffering ‘cause of current events that you actually are largely responsible for, ‘cause you betrayed the trust he put in you by staying quiet.” You matter-of-factly state, making Trey flinch.

When he remains quiet and keeps his head lowered, you continue, “I understand your current thought process. You think that it’s better to do nothing than risk doing something that could potentially make his situation even worse, but you’re wrong - dead wrong.”

A deep frown forms on your face. “Because a guy who sits back and does nothing when his friend is obviously in need of his help is way worse than a guy whose actions cause trouble for his friend after he makes a genuine effort to help them.”

“I can guarantee that, if you continue as you are, you’ll come to greatly regret your inaction way more than you ever will anything else you could potentially do for Riddle-senpai.” You continue, “So I highly recommend that you take some time to seriously think about Riddle-senpai, who’s only going to continue spiraling, and what’s best for him.”

“And you should make that decision sooner rather than later ‘cause, right now, your dorm is a metaphorical house of cards that’s barely holding together.” You add, “At this point, I think all it’ll take is one strong enough breeze, and it’ll all come tumbling down, and Riddle-senpai will be the one who suffers the most from the fall.”

It’s at that moment Trey finally lifts his head and breaks his silence. “Why are you saying all this to me? I had thought you had approached me because you’re worried about Ace and Deuce and their situation with our dorm, but now, I’m not so sure. Now, it seems more like you’re actually concerned about Riddle, and I can’t figure out why since, unlike me, you have no reason to care about him.”

He scrutinizes you with his disbelieving, slightly suspicious eyes. “Surely, it’s not just because you took pity on him after seeing his past.”

Feeling slightly exasperated since he’s temporarily changing the subject so he can put off the conversation he obviously does not want to continue having with you, you huff, “Of course not. While I definitely felt empathetic after seeing his memories, I’m not acting out of pity. Unlike a certain someone I could name, I’m not the type who goes easy on people because I know about their tragic backstories.”

Rather than react to your verbal jab, Trey raises an eyebrow. “If that’s truly the case, what are your motivations then?”

After taking a moment to consider his question and find the right words to respond, you answer, “To put it simply, I just can’t bear to watch Riddle-senpai continue as he is ‘cause he reminds me a little too much of myself. It’s just too awkward and uncomfortable, and I’d really rather not have to deal with all that for the whole school year, you know?”

His eyes grow large. “He…reminds you of yourself…?”

Immediately, you can see the metaphorical cogs start turning in his head, and judging from his constantly shifting expressions, Trey’s definitely assuming the worst about your upbringing, which is understandable, considering what he knows about his childhood friend.

Obviously, you have no intention to actually tell your upperclassman about your abusive upbringing since that’s not a topic you’d ever want to willingly discuss, especially not with someone you hardly even know.

That’s why, before Trey can start asking questions, you give him a vague explanation that will hopefully be enough to satisfy him. “Like Riddle-senpai, I grew up in a metaphorical cage that didn’t allow me much freedom. I also dealt with lots of high expectations that weighed heavily on my shoulders.”

Regrettably, the high expectations you mention had nothing to do with someone thinking highly of you and your abilities. Instead, they were just Mumei’s expectations that you would continue to win your cage-fights and be a source of income for him since all you ever were to him was a tool to make money.

After quickly dismissing those depressing thoughts, you add, “Which is why I can understand where Riddle-senpai is coming from to a certain extent at least, even though our upbringings were overall quite different.” 

Thankfully, rather than try to pry further, Trey just watches you with noticeably sympathetic eyes, making you assume that he believes that you’re telling the truth. “I see…”

Since this really isn’t a topic you want to dwell on, you quickly try to get this conversation back on track. “One major difference between me and Riddle-senpai is that, in a hypothetical situation where the two of us were trapped in physical cages and said cages suddenly opened, I think I would be the only one who would actually try to escape after confirming that the coast was clear.”

The corners of your lips dip downward. “Considering how Riddle-senpai feels about rules, I think, if he was told that it was against the rules to leave that cage, he’d stay right where he was, even when his freedom was right in his grasp, because he would never dare to oppose his mother and her rules.” 

Trey’s expression becomes pained. “You’re probably right.”

Catching him by surprise, you say, “I think only one thing could possibly get Riddle-senpai to come out of that cage willingly.”

You look straight into his wide eyes. “And that’s you extending a hand to him. After all, that’s how you got him to leave his cage the first time, isn’t it?”

For several seconds, Trey just stares. “That’s…”

“I know this isn’t as easy as me and Ace make it sound, but it’s a fact that YOU need to do something, Trey-senpai.” You remark, “Because, as much as I’d like to help someone get out of their cage after having finally escaped mine by coming to this school, it’s not me that Riddle-senpai needs. It’s YOU. In his current state, YOUR hand is the only one he’ll take.”

Letting your voice soften, you request, “So please help him out of that lonely cage that’ll only cause him even more suffering the longer he remains in it. Help him before it’s too late to reach out your hand to him.”

Shoulders slumping, Trey tries to hide his current, distressed expression behind one of his hands. “I…”

Deciding to take pity on him since you’d like to think you’re not as bad as Ace, you reach over to comfortingly pat his shoulder. “I’m not asking you to make a decision right this very minute. All I wanted was for you to take my concerns seriously, and by the looks of it, you are, so I’m willing to leave it at that.”

“Because I’m apparently more of a busybody than I thought, I just couldn’t leave you alone ‘til I said my piece, and now that I have, I’m gonna back off since, in the end, it really is none of my business what you do.” You remark before you pull your hand away from him. 

As an afterthought, you add, “Although, I really do wanna do something about the whole tyrant dorm leader situation you got going on at your dorm since, if Riddle-senpai stays as he is, I might end up having to permanently take care of Ace and Deuce at my dorm like I do Grim, and I’d really rather not have to deal with any additional troublesome responsibilities being put on my shoulders.”

Trey’s posture relaxes as he snorts, “That does sound like it’d be tough, so I can’t blame you for feeling that way.”

“I really am sorry for all of this.” Trey sincerely apologizes, after he pulls his hand away from his face, like he did earlier at the library when you and your friends first confronted him about Riddle. “I feel bad for getting you involved in my dorm’s troublesome situation when you've already got enough on your plate as it is by being the school’s sole female magicless student, which I’m sure can’t be easy.”

Catching you by surprise, Trey reaches over to gently pat your head, making you immediately remember that he has younger siblings, whom you had found out about when you saw Riddle’s memory about his visit to Trey’s family’s bakery, since Trey's current actions really make him look like a big brother.

“And thank you.” Trey smiles in the kind of genuine way you’ve only seen in Riddle’s memories. “For looking out for Riddle. Not many people would be willing to do that for obvious reasons, so I really appreciate it.”

Completely unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of warm gestures like this, all you can do is stare.

Meanwhile, Trey continues, “That’s why I intend to take your concerns seriously since it’s the least I can do, even though I honestly still don’t know what’s the best thing for me to do for Riddle.”

His smile becomes sheepish as he pulls his hand away from your head. “Sorry, I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear after going through the trouble of reaching out to me.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug after overcoming your earlier surprise. “I figured things would turn out like this since this is something you need to give a lot of thought toward. I would’ve been more surprised if you had changed your mind and agreed to convince Riddle-senpai to stop being a tyrant.”

“As long as you’re taking me seriously and not dismissing the legitimate concerns I brought up, I’m satisfied.” You add, “That’s about all I can ask of you, considering our current circumstances.”

Holding up a hand in parting, you turn to leave. “So, with that, I’ll take my leave since I don’t wanna leave Grim, Ace, and Deuce unsupervised at my dorm for too long. I’ll see you tomorrow for Ace’s and Deuce’s duels.”

“You know, I still think that the duels are a bad idea. Ace and Deuce don’t stand a chance against Riddle. Are you sure you shouldn’t talk them out of it before it’s too late?”

Pausing at Trey’s question, you reply, “I agree their chances of winning are low, but I have no intention of interfering since this is something they both really wanna do. There’s no talking them out of this now that they’ve got their hearts set on beating Riddle-senpai.”

Looking over your shoulder, you meet Trey’s worried gaze. “Besides, as I said earlier, inaction won’t solve anything; in this kinda situation, it’ll just cause more trouble in the long run, and those two both know that. They know they have to do SOMETHING. Otherwise, nothing will change.”

Although, I’d be lying if I said that I’m not worried about the possibility of things changing for the worse ‘cause of those duels. You think to yourself. Since literally anything could happen, and Riddle-senpai is currently like a ticking time bomb that could go off at any given moment.

When you find yourself thinking of Riddle's impending implosion, you wince. If that happens, we’ll all be in serious trouble...

Little did you know just how right you were.

[good-beanswrites]

A little something featuring Fuuta and Es after talking about their criminal lack of interaction in fanworks with @waivyjellyfish ! You had such awesome ideas (a few of which I'm still bouncing around in my head to post at some point,) but this one ended up taking over my brain -- I hope you enjoy 😅 Attempting to answer the widely-debated question:

“Oi, why didn’t you hit me?”

Es looked up from their paperwork.

“Prisoner number three. Most people are glad when they’re not struck.”

“Well, I’m not.” 

Es usually left the door open at this hour, in case anyone had any last-minute complaints before curfew. No one usually took them up on the offer. They figured that if there was any prisoner they could count on to complain, it would be Fuuta marching through their door.

“You hit all the other guys. You even hit some of the girls that were giving you trouble. So what? You think I’m too weak? You think I can’t take it?” Fuuta spread his arms. “I can, so show me what you’ve got!”

Es sighed. They put down their pen. They folded their gloved hands together, resting their chin on top. “Fuuta, I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why not?”

“As of right now, I have no reason to. If you’re referring to the interrogations…”

They reflected on the first one they'd shared with him. To be fair, the thought had crossed their mind. It would have been satisfying to give this rowdy prisoner a taste of his own medicine – striking him after such a dramatic charge at them. But Es was always good at reading people. It didn’t take them long to understand Fuuta was the type to lash out first and ask questions later. In fact, that was likely what had landed him in Milgram in the first place. 

Although Es knew they weren’t here to do any reformation, they wanted to try to show these prisoners where they’d gone wrong. So, they resolved to act as the bigger person. They’d prove that senseless violence was just that. By keeping their composure, they’d show Fuuta just how childish he was being. 

That wasn’t my only reason. I guess that's true, my actions weren’t all purely righteous. I still spent the entire time looking for ways to make him squirm… But it wasn’t all cruelty. I really did want to understand. I wanted to help. That counts for something, right?

Es never struck the prisoners out of anger, or as a petty show of power. It was a way to force the prisoner to mind their ego. When they’d gotten a bit too full of themselves, a bit too comfortable with the awful deed they’d committed, Es’ blow encouraged them to feel a bit more humility and guilt. 

By the time the second trial arrived, Fuuta oozed guilt. 

The moment Es entered the interrogation room, it was clear that he needed no lesson in humility. He hugged his arms to his chest. His remaining eye darted around the room in thinly-veiled hysteria. His voice trembled when he spoke. It didn’t require any people-reading skills to hear the remorse that underlaid all of his accusations and threats.

Hitting the others felt like giving a dog a tap on the nose after breaking a rule. Meanwhile, Fuuta snapped and snarled like a stray who’d been kicked time and time again.

Of course, he could never know any of this. Any way Es phrased it, Fuuta would misunderstand it as pity.

Well, wasn’t it? I thought he looked like a kicked puppy – that sounds a lot like pity. No, it was out of respect. Does that mean I didn’t respect the prisoners I did hit? No. I respected them too. Then, what’s the difference?

Fuuta was still staring at them, asking the very same question. What’s the difference?

“Each of Milgram’s prisoners is unique.” 

They were met with an unimpressed glare.

Es chose their words carefully. “Each one responds best to a variety of treatments. Some need attention to be comfortable, while others need time. Some need validation in order to confess. Others, a bit of debate does the trick. Some need a show of force. You –” remind me too much of myself  “– require something else. I’ve learned to change my approach depending on the person I’m dealing with.”

Fuuta’s features flashed with confusion, then shame, then his usual mask of anger. “Tch. How pathetic.”

“Excuse me?”

“So you just change your personality when it’s convenient? You put up fake smiles and fake attitude? Have some balls and just be yourself.”

Es was caught by surprise. “... I am. Those are all pieces of myself. I choose to bring out different parts when it would be most helpful.” 

“Sounds manipulative as hell to me.” 

It makes sense he doesn’t understand. He’s a very clear-cut person, with every aspect of his personality lining up in a way that makes sense. I find that predictability fun. Or, is it something that I envy? Could it be both?

They had no time to dwell on it, as Fuuta was struck with an idea. “Though, if you can do it on command, why don’t you give me the ‘you’ that wants to hit someone?” 

He spread his arms once more, hands gesturing to his chest. Es pretended not to notice him wince. They remained in their seat. 

“What are you waiting for? Hit me!” 

“I will not.”

“You just said you can change your personality on a whim, so let’s see it!” 

“That is not what I said.”

His good eye began to look frenzied. He raised his voice. “You scared? The big bad warden of Milgram, nothing but a big coward!”

“Stop this. You’re acting childish.”

“No! You’re treating me childishly! Let me see the Es that kicked Shidou! The one that slapped Kazui! Treat me like you treated them!”

“I hit them because they said something stupid. They deserved it.”

“Are you fucking kidding? I deserve it too! I deserve it! Come on!”

At the last word, his voice broke. He stumbled to his knees. He let his head drop. He sucked in strained breath after strained breath. Shidou would surely give him a lecture about getting so worked up with his injuries. 

Es finally stood.

They made their way around the desk. They knelt on the floor in front of him. 

“Why?” he wheezed. “Tell me…”

“Fuuta.” 

Should I just go ahead and do it, just to make him happy? No, I want to talk it out. But what do even I say? I'll tell him that I care. I can’t. None of the prisoners understand that I care. Why? Why is it so hard for them to see? I’m trying my best, why can’t they see? 

Es extended their hand carefully. They didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish, but in that moment their thoughts were too loud and conflicting. They needed to do something.

Fuuta saw the gentle intention, and immediately raised his own hand to strike. It froze midair, though whether it was from Milgram’s restrictions or his own hesitation, Es would never know.

Neither of their gestures connected.

Footsteps. Then Yuno’s voice, hesitantly from the doorway. “We heard shouting, is everything alright in here?”

Es retracted their hand.  A beat. Fuuta dropped his, too. 

“Yuno. Yes, we’re fine. Fuuta was just heading to bed. I’m going to walk him to his cell.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I said, I’m going to walk him to his cell.” 

Es stood, nodding to Yuno. When she’d gone, they turned their attention back to the prisoner crumpled on the ground. They made an effort to quiet their ever-racing thoughts. 

“Listen. I know you can handle yourself. I’m not doing this because I think you’re weak. You’re strong. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t see that.”

They held out their arm to help him up. He didn’t move.

“Sometimes you are a bit too strong, if you ask me. I mean, picking fights with your prison warden, really?” They clicked their tongue. “You should be grateful for a superior that gives you second chances.”

At last, Fuuta  took their hand. He avoided meeting their eyes, but his voice had softened considerably from his rant. “The only thing you give me is a headache.”

Es offered a dry smile as they pulled him to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”

[babygirlwolverine]

happiness is having someone comment that your writing is beautiful when you’ve been insecure to get back to writing again

[imtrashraccoon]

crawls back over from my dark corner

Okay okay, so- Don't Imagine with the lovely Dirk. Er- from his description, I started kicking my feet almost instantly. As much as I love his Lordship, I don't want to give him all the attention. The other boys need attention too.

So, Dirk with more quiet s/o. Not usually receptive to his antics, usually waving him off when he gets too touchy. They dress rather modestly, and like the calmness of being in a garden or library- avoiding loud areas like the plague.

Oddly enough, they're being more affectionate for once. They usually duck away from kisses and dodge his grabby hands, but as of the moment, they seem to just give a hum and let him do whatever. Even admiring him at some point, kissing him and clinging to him.

(this seems to be more in his POV but I digress, I just want something soft and cute with the skeleton)

First off, "lovely" and "Dirk" do not go together at all, but you do you! Slight warning, but I couldn't resist making this one a bit suggestive...

Don't imagine enjoying a quiet afternoon to yourself after harvesting the produce from your little garden. How you're already thinking of what to make with the vegetables or how you're going to preserve what you don't immediately eat. How you're wondering if you'll have to buy more jars with the amount you have gathered.

Don't imagine a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind. How you start to panic at first since you live alone. How your would-be captor can't help but snicker at your plight. How you heave a sigh of relief when you realize it's just your significant other who decided to mess with you. How you scold him for sneaking up on you like that and how he remarks that he can't help that he finds you adorable like this.

Don't imagine how he pulls you closer so your back is pressed flush against his leather armour. How your skin tingles with his unstable mana thanks to his ever-visible soul. How his hands begin to not-so-subtly wander over your clothed body. How he nuzzles against the back of your head, not caring about how you'll now need to wash his black tears out of your hair. How you can't help but shiver as his teeth graze your pulse point and how he nearly purrs as he breathes in your scent.

Don't imagine how his ministrations leave you breathless. How you consider pushing him away like usual but don't when you realize that you're enjoying the attention. How you decide the food preservation can wait a little bit longer if it means you can spend some time with the person you care so much about.

Don't imagine how his breath suddenly catches in his non-existent throat and how he goes very still. How he straightens up and returns his hands to your waist but doesn't let go entirely. How he quietly asks if you're feeling okay. How the question takes you by surprise and how you find yourself without words.

Don't imagine how your continued silence seems to trigger something in him. How he attempts to check your pulse but seems to struggle locating it. How he presses a hand to your forehead in a vain attempt to check your temperature, despite the fact that he doesn't have a nervous system. How he seems to grow agitated the more he frets over you.

Don't imagine insisting that you feel fine and asking what's gotten into him. How you start to grow annoyed when he doesn't seem to be hearing you. How you manage to shimmy around until you're facing him and how you abruptly pull him into a hug. How he finally stills before carefully wrapping his arms around you again.

Don't imagine telling him how much you love him. How you press soft kisses to his skull and murmur little compliments with each one. How you continue to keep him close until he seems to snap out of whatever had gotten ahold of him.

Don't imagine how he presses his skull to your forehead and stays there. Definitely don't imagine how husky his voice is as he murmurs how much he likes hearing your heartbeat. How he doesn't elaborate further and just holds you as close as he can.

Don't imagine navigating him to the couch and laying down together. How he cards his phalanges through your hair and presses a skeleton kiss to your cheek. How you turn your face so you can plant a kiss on his teeth and how he practically melts. How you briefly glimpse a flicker of a white eyelight in his left eye socket but how it disappears before you can dwell on it for very long. How you ask if he'll ever consider moving you into the fortress that you know he lives in. How he considers it for a second before shaking his skull, murmuring that you'll be safer and happier here.

First & Previous Request

[sisterdivinium]

All her life had she been selfish, placing her needs and whims above all else; all her life had she defied an institution whose entire foundation was built upon the branches of a tree whose fruit was forbidden for its flavour of knowledge.

Still could Jillian not force her to stay — she barely recalled how she had gotten her into her bed to begin with.

Come morning, she always relinquished Suzanne to her habit, to her prayers; she would watch her don the veil Jillian herself had pulled off and rush out for service.

And, somehow, selfless, she let her.

[good-beans]

Well, Milgramblrgram, you have spoken! This is what you wanted, wasn't it?

I've doled out my judgement on Nott, Kyanako, and Waivy! You can rest easy knowing that I took care of everything 😌 And I do believe there was something else that you all voted in favor of, hm...?

You are very welcome, Wardens! I look forward to continuing to be a team 🐺

[universestreasures]

@crimsonkaiser​ Sent: An 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 Sentence Starter (Accepting!) 

❝  i  was  never  complete  until  i  found  you.  ❞ [@ Aichiii

He should be feeling relief right now. No really, he should be. By some miracle, both he and Kai had managed to resurface at the same time. It seems whatever Toshiki and Ahmes were doing in their bodies had worn them out to the point where an opening was created for the two present souls to take back control. Without even needing to think, Aichi and Kai instantly clung to each other, hugging each other tightly as if they’d vanish if they let go. 

However, not even this moment can bring peace to the turmoil that the prince had sprouted in Aichi’s heart. After having fallen back asleep after his encounter with who he knew now as ‘Percival’ and ‘Toshiki’, Prince Ahmes had appeared to speak with. Along with a warning, his own memories played out before Aichi’s eyes, the very same ones he’s been having glimpses of for months now through his dreams and sudden images. Everything slowly came to make sense for him, but with that knowledge...came conflict. 

The way love in his heart for Kai blossomed upon their first meeting...The way he managed to get stronger because of him...The way he selflessly sacrificed his own well being so Kai could feed and be healthy...

Were all of those feelings...even...his? 

Was he...even himself? 

Aichi breaks away from Kai’s hold. With his stronger turned body, it was a rather easy to do. He’s honestly not so used to be so physically strong. He doesn’t have access to Ahmes’ powers, those being reserved for the prince himself. After all, he was just a vessel, wasn’t he? That’s what Ahmes had told him repeatedly, and despite not wanting to hear it at first, now he...

“Are those...your words, Kai Kun?” A pause follows the question, his gaze shifted towards the ground as he walks away from the other towards the balcony of the prince’s chambers. A full moon was out tonight, the very thing that was almost a constant in his recollections of Ahmes’ memories. It had seen everything, just as it was now watching things unfold now for better or worse.  

“Or...are they Toshiki’s?”

Who was Aichi Sendou? Prince Ahmes Reborn? A vessel? His own person? 

He...He didn’t know, both the truth or how to feel. His future, his life...had all seemed so clear before, but now...it’s as blank as an artist’s white canvas, with no clear idea for what it will become. One thing that is certain is that he is terrified to find out what his future will be, if he’ll even have one...

~

[sixsoulssnuffed]

[Happy Halloween all!

So, I have carpal tunnel, and I’m also an animation student. As much fun as it is to draw, I’m trying to avoid it until my hands are better because it’s very important for me to not have fucked up hands going into second year. I’ll be introducing two new muses but their icons will probably have to wait. I’ll add images to any asks sent towards them later.]

[romana-colasour]

Planning out a gen fukinamono fic thread is post canon and I want Itsuki to say how much Ashiya means to him, but 6 small chapters planned in and I still haven’t managed how and where to put that in

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the gojo fic wasnt showing up in tags so i deleted it lol (sound of muffled sobbing) ill post it again when tumblr behaves !! :33

[hwallazia]

BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT – 최산

synopsis . in which san discovers a new fetish while you ride him.

pairing . choi san & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au, married!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 0,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! san, sub! reader, sort of lactation (milk involved but not specifically sucking it from the source), nipple play, cow girl position, bulge kink, mocking, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, princess), too many moans and mewls, dacryphilia, basically san fucking the daylights out of reader (even though reader’s on top of him)

NIC’S NOTES yess, the title is based on billie’s lyric on “guess” how’d you know? <3 ;; also, i hate not having the time to write full-length stories so badly TT gotta survive with these little drabbles. so well, enjoy the meal babes !!

“put your back into it, yeah?”

his growl tingled your ear, hands reaching for his wide shoulders for support. you bounced up and down his length relentlessly, with no hesitation, no mercy. his hands found home in your hips which worked perfectly hard, fingers varying between lingering, fond touches and harsh grips on your flesh. your walls enveloped his cock in the most welcoming way, pulsating around him, giving him a taste of heaven.

“s-shut up,” your breathless whisper brushed his earlobe. “it’s hard when your husband has a fucking huge dick—“ you could almost continue your words. a strangled, loud moan intruding into your whiny complaint as he flattened his palm against your ass flesh, the sound of the harsh spank bouncing through the walls.

“just shut up and take it, baby.” he cooed at you mockingly, his recent action belying his honey-dripping voice, his lips finding their way up to your neck. cute love bites were spread all over the skin. “can’t be too hard now can it?”

your eyelashes swung the tears away by blinking once or twice, exhilarating pants rolled off your lips as beads of sweat were attached to your temple. you dropped your head back from the overwhelming feeling. eventually —when he grew far too impatient— he matched your pace, thrusting upwards and, therefore, reaching divine places.

“can’t do anything without my help.” his right found your bouncing breast and trapped it with his palm, his fingers immediately digging into the soft, almost pillowy flesh. “poor little princess.” he teased your nipple a little, sending to another wave of satisfaction as you melted into his touch. soon, a strange white liquid began to ooze out of the slit, resulting in san’s jaw dropping all the way down the floor, eyes wide open and dilated as he stared intently at the white essence, longing to get a taste of it oh-so-badly. the combination of his wife’s leaking tits bouncing right in front of him as his cock ramming into her insides formed a perfectly defined bulge was a sight for sore eyes. and he had the absolute pride to call it his, and only his to admire, to touch, to pleasure.

but you still were working hard on his dick, his hips still going up and down and providing him and you the most satisfying session. it wasn’t until you heard your husband speak that you realized what he was so immersed in. “fuck you’re leaking.”

“what do you mean—“ you questioned immediately and when you stared down at your sweaty body, your orbs twitched at the sight of your abdomen covered with drops of warm milk and san seemly falling in love with it. “oh my.”

you couldn’t understand why it happened right there and then, a swell of bashfulness drowning your senses and immediately stopping your movements to search for a towel or something to clean yourself up. but san paused your actions.

“what are you doing?”

“i’m sorry i’m just—looking for..” your sentence came out as fast as lightning and in parts, since you cut your words to reach for the nearest piece of fabric.

“i literally got you all covered with my cum yesterday and now you’re shy because of some milk drops?” he stated, leaving you frozen in your place. a strong blush inking your cheekbones cutely. he lifted your hips up a bit to immediately restart the game you left pending, his hard cock finding your tight, inviting hole. once again. where it belongs.

your immediate reaction was to scream, holding onto his abs to keep yourself from falling. the fast, restless pace your husband adopted pulled breathless gasps out of you, the loop of san’s name falling off your swollen lips like a mantra. his right hand abandoned your stuttering hip to meet your milk-covered nipple again, stimulating it by rubbing and pinching it. more essence and mewls poured out of you, walls compressing and pulsating frenetically around his cock as they swallowed the entire length almost sinfully. you were crying on his dick in less than a minute.

he chuckled, admiring the view. “what a shameless wife i have.”

| masterlist

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.

from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚��𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥��𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene2024

[eternalsunrise]

home, sweet home.

wolverine (logan howlett) x f!reader

wc: 980 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, no actual smut but super suggestive and gets graphic toward the end

notes! horny . but also v sweet. i pictured origins logan while writing this 💋

“if you keep moving i’m going to start slicing you up on purpose” your threat is empty, wrist away from his face completely, razor pointed the opposite direction. even with his regenerative abilities, you don’t want to hurt him, even if it’s just an accidental cut on his jaw.

logan was fully capable of doing this himself. after all, he’d been shaving his own face for decades upon decades. but there was no way he was going to pass up this opportunity.

he came through the front door after a two week long mission, scruffier than he was when he left. his mutton chops curling up at the tips of his jawline, mustache just long enough to tickle your face. he’d forgotten to pack his razor, and he’d rather use his own claws than use scott’s, or even worse, hank’s.

you were on him as soon as he walked in, leeched to his body, your hands everywhere. it had been too long since the wolverine breathed you in like this, his enhanced senses overstimulated in the best way. you ran your hand over his scratchy cheek, inquiring about his new look. he told you he was planning on cleaning it up but was exhausted. that’s when you offered.

now he’s sat on the toliet seat, and maybe he’s enjoying the view of you on his lap a little too much. he lifted his hips, bouncing you lightly on his legs.

“hm. relax princess, jus’ adjusting.” logan gives you a teasing smile, basking in the bliss he only feels in your presence. your eyes narrow in faux disdain, it’s hard to be frustrated at a guy with shaving cream covering his face. you grab one of his feline quips of hair, using it to tilt his head to finish the task at hand.

“i’m going with you next time, i can’t have you walking around like a caveman.” i missed you more than i can say.

ever the man, the image of you in an x-men suit pops into his brain, the leather hugging your body just right. the thought brings a smirk to his face, but it fades when he hears your sigh. right, no moving.

“yes ma’am. i’ll call the professor and let him know.” i missed you too. felt like i was never going to come back to you.

you lean your body over to rinse the razor off in the sink, logan’s large hands on your thighs keeping you steady. the metal clinks against the porcelain of the sink, shaving cream and dark hair going down the drain.

when you look back, you see your boyfriend in place of the lumberjack that walked in earlier. still scruffy and masculine, after all he is still the wolverine.

logan lifts his hips again, shifting backwards and forcing you to fall against him, razor clattering out of your hand. “whoops” his deep voice carries no sympathy, chocolate eyes locking with yours, giving you that love struck look that makes your stomach turn. the kind of look he saves just for you.

your chests are touching, the closeness sets your whole body ablaze. it’s been too long since you’ve got to soak him up like this. the smell of him makes your head swim; leather, cheap cigar smoke, and that cologne you bought him a few months back.

logan sneaks his hands under his brown flannel button up you’re wearing, delighted to be met by the bare skin of your hips. the metal of his belt buckle is cold against the bottom of your stomach, causing a gasp to leave you.

as he admires you now; sitting pretty in his lap in only his shirt, logan wonders how he had the strength to leave you in the first place.

hands wander over his freshly shaved face, stubble like soft needles against your fingertips. your head has a mind of its own, and suddenly your lips are brushing his. once. twice. a third time. soft and slow.

there’s something new in the air now. your heart is pounding, and you wonder if he can feel it beating through your chest and into his own. there’s a split second of silent eye contact before logan lurches forward.

there’s hunger behind his kiss. a certain lust behind his tongue making its way to yours. your hips swivel in search of friction. hands tangled in his hair, pulling in a way that’s so familiar it makes logan groan into your mouth; already aware of what tonight will bring.

his hands are traveling up your his shirt, rough fingers just barely making contact with your breasts. his touch lights you on fire, forcing you to break apart, head tilting back in a whimper.

logan takes that as his cue, and suddenly you’re in the air. one of his hands on your lower back securing you to him, the other cradling the underside of your knee.

you latch your other leg behind his waist as he walks out of the bathroom. your lips reconnected, eager to make up for the lost time.

you recognize the softness of your mattress against your back as logan lies you down gently. his mouth continues its assault, a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and side of your throat. he can feel your pulse drumming frantically under his lips, and he has to bite back a smirk at the effect he seemed to have on you.

your reaching your hands down to unclasp his belt when….ring. ring. ring. you feel the vibration against his pants and you think you might die if you have to stop right now.

you both pause in your actions. logan let out a gruff “you gotta be jokin’” as he stands up straight, leaving you lying on the bed.

he pulls his phone from his pocket, eyeing the caller id, scott summers. he’d been the third member of the x-men to try and get ahold of him. fuck can’t a guy have a day off?

he looks away from the phone, shifting his eyes to you. you’re sprawled beautifully on the bed. hair fanned around your head, cheeks flushed red with a devious smile to match. his eyes follow your body down to your legs. they’re spread wide for him, and he watches in shock as you let a hand slide between your thighs, swirling a couple slow circles on your clit through soaked panties.

you throw your head back and call his name, and that’s enough for him. logan tosses his phone over his shoulder, leaning down and crawling in between your legs.

“they’re gonna have to come pry me from this fucking bed, doll. i’m not goin’ nowhere.”

god it was good to be home.

[amzarashi]

saw a few threads on twt that talked about how fandom treats fanfic writers and when i say only facts were spoken, i mean it

[kooberryfields4ever]

lucky

hello !!!!!!! was not expecting this to get as long as it did nor did i expect the turn but what can i say i am a creature driven by self satisfaction……… :( anyways originally this was gonna be like a 1k max drabble bc i rewatched jks sleepy eepy sweetie live and he was twitching and looked so pretty that i HAD to write something domestic !!!! but i am an ANIMAL and thinking about jungkook sleepy in the morning made me feral😇 hope u enjoy!!!!!!!!

wc: 2500+

content warnings : fluff & smut below the cut, light nipple play, fingering, jungkook has a cute panty kink(?), jungkook is an unstoppable force, unprotected piv sex, gendered terms (the word “girl” is used & detailed desc of female anatomy), messy orgasm

MDNI !

You’ve been awake for ten minutes now, just watching Jungkook twitch in his slumber. It’s early morning – a little after 8:00AM – and he looks so unbelievably beautiful under the gentle sunlight flittering through the blinds. With a soft smile on your lips, your eyes trail over his eyebrows, paying attention to how they raise and drop in his unconsciousness, moving down to his relaxed jaw and the divots of his shoulder blades when your gaze lowers. The gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes and the fist that keeps clenching and unclenching while you lay beside him makes your smile widen. Jungkook is a breath-taking sight, looking so at peace while you observe him. His muscles are softer in their unflexed state and you can’t help it when your finger finds his right triceps and paints shapes over it. His tattoos are next on your list of targets, and soon your wandering finger is tracing the inked motifs like you’re re-carving them into his skin, following the lines and curves of the patterns as if they were new to you.  

They are very much not new to you, though. You think you’ve studied them over a hundred times, committed them to memory, made them so indelible in your mind that you’re sure you could redraw them perfectly if he ever asked. You chance at moving your touch to his fingers, watching his face amusedly when you lift his hand to inspect them and he furrows his brow. The soft letters adorning the bones of his joints are met with the pad of your thumb as you stroke them adoringly, fighting the desperate urge to kiss his calloused palm when the tips of your fingers press against the rough skin. Your fingers don’t get to explore for long before he opens a single eye suspiciously, curling his fingers around your hand to stop you. 

“Good morning,” his voice is deeper, sluggish, yet gentle still through the rasp. “You having fun?” 

“I was,” you smirk, intertwining your fingers with his instinctually, “until you so rudely interrupted me.” His thumb rubs your knuckles sleepily, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss, turning onto his back, pulling you closer to his chest and tucking his other hand behind his head. 

“Mm, my bad.” Comes his short reply, blinking his eyes open once again to find yours. His fingers card through your hair when you sit up on your elbows, leaning against his solid frame. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip while you allow yourself to continue observing him from above now that he’s awake.  

“Do you know you twitch a lot in your sleep?” You ask, reaching over to rub some sleep from the corner of his eye. Your thumb runs over his cheek, then down to his lower lip, dragging it down playfully and watching it bounce back when you let go abruptly. He shakes his head slightly to answer your question but sits quietly, content to just let you fiddle, fondly mirroring the smile you offer him when you lean forward to press your foreheads together. “I should’ve filmed it. You almost knocked me out.” 

“Instead of leaving me in peace?” He quirks a brow, tilting his head back to press a kiss to your lips quickly before lowering it again. “I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you, even if I’m unconscious. It’s written out of my biological code.”  

You giggle, shaking your head. “As if I would’ve let you anyway, we both know I'd win in a fight.” 

Your lips chase his naturally, and he hums sweetly when you connect them again, smirking. “Is that a challenge?” He mumbles into your mouth, you feel his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer still before flipping you onto your back effortlessly. He continues kissing you like that. 

“Because I really beg to differ,” he ruses, trailing a hand down to the back of your thigh to hold your leg up against his hip. “Think I’d win in a heartbeat.” Another kiss. “How easy was it for me to get you like this?” His hips move against yours in a slow motion, making you very aware of a growing presence between his legs as it presses against you through all your layers of clothing. 

“You play dirty, that’s why,” you joke back, pushing your palm against his forehead. He moves away from your lips to attach his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone delicately, the same way your fingers did to him minutes ago. “Caught me off guard, that’s- that’s not fair,” the small moan that leaves you after your stutter is unintentional. Curse Jungkook and how easily your body gives in to his ministrations. You loathe the way he seems to revel in it too, snickering when he moves his hips again. 

You lean your head back against the pillows when he pushes your tank top up over your tits and you can feel his lips enclose around your nipple. It’s not a fair fight, Jungkook knows that. Knows that when his teeth brush against the darker flesh it’ll pebble against his tongue. Knows that when his hands slip down past your waist and hips, your legs will spread instinctually for him. Knows that when your fingers tangle in his hair, he’s got you.  

“Could die between your tits,” His muffled voice knocks you out of your pleasured trance, and you hum in acknowledgement. He’s resting his face between your breasts rather lovingly now, kissing the skin between them with a hand on your waist. The hand tangled in his hair falls to his nape, scratching at the baby hairs grown out from his last haircut.  

“I wouldn’t encourage you to.” 

“Couldn’t be the worst fate.” 

His response has you rolling your eyes, “No, a worse fate would be me beating you to a pulp because you thought you’d win in a wrestling match against me.” He chuckles, looking up at you and resting his chin on your chest with a soft pout. 

“Seemed to like my approach a second ago,” he murmurs, crawling back up your body to kiss you again. There’s no underlying motive behind it, he just really likes your lips on his. You give in because, despite your argumentative nature, you like his lips too. He kisses you lazily, knee slotted between your legs, half-heartedly holding his body up to stop himself from leaning all of his weight on you. Your arms drape naturally over his shoulders and around his neck to keep him there, and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

“You still hard?” His only response is the subtle grind of his hips against yours in affirmation and a slight lowering of his hand on your waist, on a slow but steady mission. 

“Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be doing anything about it?” 

“Gettin’ to it, jus’ let me kiss you.” He licks into your mouth sweetly, chasing the taste of you. Tries to pull you impossibly closer when you chuckle, spurring him on even more. He bites your lower lip, his wandering hand finally slipping past the waistband of your pyjama pants and brushing over your underwear. You can feel him smirk when he finds the small bow on the front, parting from your lips to slip your pants down to get a good look at them. They’re childish, pink and polka dotted and old; you’ve had them since before you and Jungkook even started dating but hardly wear them anymore. 

“Cute.” Is all he says, and you roll your eyes before reaching down to pull them off. He grabs your wrists, meeting your eyes sternly. “Keep ‘em on.” 

You slip your hands from his grasp, nodding hesitantly but obediently. You watch him curiously when he focuses his entire attention on your clothed pussy, entranced by it, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric to watch it cling to the shape of you, darkening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, they’re so cute, baby,” he babbles, not really even speaking directly to you, just thinking out loud, “can I fuck you with them on?” He asks sweetly, kissing your chest and keeping an eye on you as he waits for your answer. You nod, combing your fingers through his hair when he peppers more kisses across your tits as a thank you. He pushes the fabric aside slightly to gain access to your pussy with no restrictions, not hesitating to sink his middle and index fingers past your opening. He knows you’re wet enough, preening when he hears your breaths turn to soft moans. He’s so familiar with your body now that curling his fingers up against your g-spot is second nature to him. You encourage him wordlessly, watching him work while his head still rests on your chest.  

He knows you, so when you start to tighten around him and your moans turn into held breaths, he withdraws from you. You go to protest, furrowing your brow annoyedly, but he shushes you.  

“Gonna have you come on my dick, baby.” There’s a brief pause while he separates from you to push his boxers down and take your pyjamas bottoms fully off too, grunting when he strokes himself languidly above you before rubbing his tip between your dripping folds, still fascinated by the panties he made you keep on. 

“So pretty,” he coos, and for lack of better judgement, you nod. “So fuckin’ wet, love when you get like this for me. All for me.” He’s egging you on, coating himself in your arousal and pressing his forehead to yours when he sinks the mushroom tip of his cock past your opening. It’s calculated and slow, you think it’s to tease you, to prolong your frustration even longer; truthfully, it’s because Jungkook is embarrassingly close and wants to make himself last as long as he can. 

“You wore these the first time I fucked you,” he admits, sinking deeper into your walls and breathing against your lips, “all I could think about for the rest of that week was getting to fuck you again, you were so perfect.” He pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, deeper this time. You let out a half-moan, half-breath, and he repeats until he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Wanted to fuck you with them on then, too, thought they were so cute.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Thought it was pervy, thinking your panties were cute and wanting to keep them on,” he chuckles, kissing you gently and quickening the pace of his hips to fuck you faster, “think you would’ve thought I was a creep, wouldn’t have let me. Was easier to make you think I just wanted to take my time undressing you.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” 

“Mm, you’re well trained now.” 

His words get him a slap at the back of his head, and he laughs with you. The amusement doesn’t last long however, and soon he’s hiding his face in your shoulder to piston his cock in and out of you. You curse under your breath, letting him grip your thigh to guide your knee to your chest, wanting to fuck you deeper. He tuts, frustrated at the fact that he can’t get as deep as he wants, and soon your knees are over his shoulders with his hands holding your hips while he fucks you vigorously. He’s grunting animalistically, his tip prodding your cervix over and over, the corona of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot every time he pulls back.  

“Touch yourself.” He instructs from your shoulder. It’s gentle, you know he doesn’t mean to come across as commanding but you like it anyway. You’re quick to obey, of course, and soon you’re trailing a hand down to your own pussy to start rubbing at your clit. He wants you to finish, that much is apparent, and you assume it’s because he’s trying to hold off his own orgasm for you. It’s wordless between you when you feel the familiar band in your stomach begin to tighten, and your free hand wanders across his broad back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades in such a contrasting way to how you were so gentle only ten minutes ago. He grunts, knows you’re close because you’re clenching around him and he can feel you holding your breath. He kisses your collarbone as silent encouragement, and a few more strokes has you coming undone around him, finally releasing your breath and pulsing around him in a way that has you nearly pushing him out. 

“Gonna come, where you want it?” He asks quietly, knows your answer but wants to hear it. You always want it inside, and Jungkook is always more than happy to oblige. 

“On my panties.” Comes your surprising reply, and Jungkook’s pupils dilate to proportions you didn’t think were physically possible. He stops moving, dropping his grip on your hips to brace his hands against the sides of your head and hold himself up above you.  

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he jokes, dipping down to kiss you fervently, picking up the pace of his hips again, “you’re so fucking perfect, you want me to come all over your panties, baby? Want me to make a mess?” 

You’re not stupid, you know as much as the next girl that if there’s anything a man likes more than coming inside, it’s staking his claim. Of course, semen washes off - but the thought of Jungkook painting your panties white even makes your stomach flip. You nod, and he doesn’t need any more persuasion before he pulls out of you and sits up in order to stroke himself, a singular goal in mind. Your panties are still tucked to the side so he can see all of you as his fist pumps his cock quickly. You observe him, his cock is still wet from your arousal and his tip is so swollen and red that you’re unsure how he lasted even this long. As expected, he doesn’t last very long, and soon thick white ropes of come are shooting from his tip and coating your pussy and the fabric of your panties. He’s shuddering, curling over on himself before collapsing beside you on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he pants out, slipping his arms around your middle and pulling you toward him, “this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” 

“Really wasn’t, I was doting on you.” 

“Feeling me up is ‘doting’ now?” 

You push him away playfully, but he keeps his grip on you, laughing when you turn around to get away from him. He pulls you back towards him and spoons you.  

“I was being cute and you made it pervy, like always.” He can hear the pout in your voice, so he mumbles something in agreement. Knows there’s no winning here when he just came all over your panties like some kind of neanderthal. He rubs his hand over your belly, kissing your shoulder blade affectionately to keep you close. Your own hands cover his, intertwining your fingers once again and snuggling sweetly into him. 

a/n 🗒️ as always tysm for reading !!! if u have anything to say pls do i love to hear from ppl and reflecting on criticism is my driving force 💆‍♀️ reqs/asks are open !!!!

[demonvibez]

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath. 

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours. 

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him. 

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap. 

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place! 

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops! 

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork. 

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms. 

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince. 

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep. 

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