#twisted wonderland tw

[wrxthfulguard]

Happy 1st Anniversary to Twisted Wonderland!

[fizzydrinkuno]

hope yall had a fun holidays

[allknowingaxolotl]

Meeting your new grandson

[fungifanart]

Somehow, I think Riddle’s diss against Yuu in Book 1 would go just a BIT differently with Cerezo (BIG thank you to @pawnyao for taking my commission)

[reinbouxsworld]

FEM LEONA U WILL ALWAYS BE A ICON

[diz-eaze]

"yan tendency": (yandere! character: skully)

skully "breaks into your shared dorm (delusion), specifically, your room to sniff whatever fabrics there are to find" j graves.

never trust him around your laundry !!

Next character for "yan tendency": leona

[hanafubukki]

You had never seen Sebek Zigvolt…so jittery before.

If Lilia chose right now to pop up, you were sure Sebek would jump high enough to hit the ceiling.

It was amusing…but maybe you should try and calm his down.

“Something you want to tell me? Sebek?”

He jolted as if you…shocked him. You couldn’t help the inner chuckle at the little joke.

You raised an eyebrow to empathize your question.

“Do you require any assistance?”

“Hm?”

You watch as he turned red and mumbled to himself.

“My mother and sister would ask for certain foods and potions from us when I’m back home. I…would extend that assistance if you need it.”

Ah. Wait, aw, that’s sweet. A fae after my own heart.

"Awww who's a sweet croc fae?"

"You-"

You cupped Sebek’s cheek, quieting him, “Thank you but I’m alright for now. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

That seemed to appease him. Good.

But that does bring to question…

“How did you know?”

You watch as Sebek turns an interesting shade of red.

You lean in to hear his too quiet reply, “…I can smell it.”

This time you can’t keep the laughter in as Sebek marches ahead of you, turning even more red.

As embarrassed as he was, he never strayed too far ahead of you.

Sebek Zigvolt is a sweetheart with a heart of gold.

[yan-lorkai]

Fae/faerie Jade trying to get lost reader's name and her being like '🤨 uh, no, give me yours first, let's trade' without knowing that's basically like betrothing herself with him

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey I believed faes/fairies used to exist when I was kid lol. And I'm telling y'all this because I had a dream quite similar to this fic lololol, it was a good dream tho :>

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

"You're quite charming," he says, his voice soft and almost reverent, as if speaking an undeniable truth. "Precious, even. Why won't you tell me your name?"

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. There's something about the way he asks, the smoothness of his tone, that feels too inviting, too... dangerous. For a second, you study him, his sudden appearance intriguing you.

You cross your arms, trying to appear more confident than you feel. "Uh, no. Mister, you should tell me your name first," you say, thinking you’ve cleverly sidestepped whatever game he’s playing. "Or... We could trade names."

For a moment, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face. But then his lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, one that makes your stomach tighten in a way you can’t quite place. "Ah, a trade, is it?" he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Very well, if that is what you wish... I shall oblige."

He leans in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a brief second, you feel as though the air around you has thickened, charged with something unspoken. When he speaks his name - Jade, like the gem, it’s with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace, each syllable drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. His voice is like silk, and his name feels heavy, lingering in the air between you.

And the sound is almost magical, hypnotic even.

You don't realize it, but the moment you suggested a trade, you unknowingly set the trap he had been waiting for. To exchange names with a fae is to offer something more than just words; it’s an agreement, a binding promise. By giving yours, you would be tying yourself to him, just as he’s doing now.

And the look in his eyes — the way they gleam with that mix of amusement and something darker — tells you that he knows exactly what you've just offered, even if you don't.

When you finally open your mouth to respond, you don’t see the invisible chains that have begun to form around you, nor do you hear the silent vow he’s made to keep you by his side.

"Well," you begin, a bit nervously, trying to shake off the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I guess it’s only fair to share mine now." You tell him your name, and as the words leave your lips, you can't help but notice how his smile widens, sharp and satisfied, like a predator finally closing in on its prey.

“Ah, so that is your name, Yuu,” he repeats, almost reverently, as if tasting it, repeating it again and again as if he was getting used to it. “Beautiful… fitting, even.”

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance again. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me, do you?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying current, a subtle shift that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a little defensive. “It’s just my name. We traded, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s not just a name,” he replies, tilting his head as if amused by your innocence. “To share a name with a fae is to forge a bond, one that can not easily be broken. You offered a piece of yourself, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I have given you a piece of me in return.”

You stare at him, the realization dawning on you slowly, like the creeping shadow of a storm. You had to have misunderstood what he just said.

“Wait… Are you saying…?” Your words falter as you search his eyes, looking for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s none. The grin on his face is too calm, too knowing, as if he’s been planning this all along.

“Yes, my dear,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate, yet there’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “We are bound now, betrothed, if you wish to call it that. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. Isn’t it delightful? Mom and dad will be glad to know you.”

Your heart starts pounding, a mix of disbelief and panic surging through you. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You stammer, shaking your head as if you can undo the words you’ve already spoken. “I didn’t agree to… to this! I can't get married right now.”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your protest. If anything, he looks even more delighted now. “Oh, but we're married now due to fae traditions. The moment you proposed the trade, you sealed your fate. And I have no intention of letting you go, my precious beloved one.”

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch cool but oddly soothing. “Do not fear, Yuu. I shall take care of you, cherish you… just as a good partner should.”

You try to pull away, but his hand cups your cheek, holding you gently in place. “There is no need to run, no need to fight. We are bound by something far stronger than mere words. You wished to know my name, and now… you will never forget it.”

The forest around you feels like it’s closing in, the air thick with something unseen, as if the world itself acknowledges the bond between you. And in his eyes, you see no hint of malice, only a patient, eternal watchfulness, as if he’s content to wait, to let you come to terms with what you’ve unknowingly become a part of.

“I’ll give you time to understand,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a soft, almost tender smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “But know this… I am yours, just as you are mine. And there is no escaping what has been forged tonight... Love.”

[merakiui]

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Shaken and Stirred.

I was really inspired by this fan art and was plagued by thoughts of a pathetic whiny lil meow meow 🥺 I don't drink myself, but I love the mature aesthetic of it and wanted to... write a drunken confession... to close off 2024...

… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT OTL wait no please J WORD I CAN EXPLAIN

***Content warning: Alcohol consumption, though Leona is the only one drinking. (The legal age is 20 in Japan; I’m going to assume this for Twisted Wonderland.) Everyone else is having sparkling juice :v***

Imagine this…

"Feel like joining us for dinner? For old time's sake.”

The invitation had come so casually, the same way a housecat might drop a mangled rat or bird at your feet. To them, an easy, everyday act. To you, a surprise you weren’t quite certain how to feel about.

You didn't have plans for the evening, nor a reason to refuse, and while you were busy weighing the pros and cons, you found yourself strung along in their outing. Muscular arms wrangling you into the herd, boisterous yells welcoming you back. An honorary member, the Savanaclaw students had branded you, recognized by their king.

Now you sit in a barstool, fingers on the rim of a cup clouded with condensation, absentmindedly swirling its contents. Juice, its sweetness stifled by melted ice.

Some would call you a lamb willingly waltzing into a lion's den. They're wrong. You are no beast, but a curious observer of them. This is a prime opportunity for that.

It’s dim, the glowing jellyfish set low, faint lights swimming overhead. The music is loud, a departure from the Mostro Lounge’s usual soft jazz. The bass is even louder, rattling your bones like a set of steel drums. Rowdy patrons clink cups, chant at their friends to chug, belt out laughter straight from the bellies. You can barely hear your own heartbeat. The sounds of nightlife drown it out.

Jack lurks in a quiet, shadowed corner, his back against the wall. Muscled arms folded, he has assumed a stern stance but wears a small, fond smile in spite of himself. Ruggie has climbed onto a table, raising a jet-black card to the waiting mob. It’s their golden meal ticket.

“All-you-can-eat food and drinks on Leona-san! Long live the king!!” he roars, and the others echo his excitement.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!!”

You chuckle to yourself. First he rents out the entire lounge, then he decides to feed everyone for the day? How generous of him. Guess the big guy’s going all out.

You scan the restaurant in search of him, seeking out his familiar visage. Long, wild tresses. Sharp eyes, emerald flecked with golden flakes, like the sunlight shining through verdant leaves. The scar that speared his left side. A noble aura, his lazy feline grace.

Leona Kingscholar always sticks out in a crowd, commands too much attention with his mere existence. “That man is only good for his face,” Vil would bitterly hawk, “his only redeeming feature.” And he was right, to some extent. Tall, dark, and handsome are all apt descriptors for Savanaclaw’s dorm leader. Leona is all that and more.

Your pulse quickens.

His shape—you can’t discern it from the myriad of bodies collected in the lounge. A puzzle piece missing from the box of your most treasured memories.

“Looking for someone?”

The question is low and nonchalant, almost musical in its own right, yet you can so clearly hear it rising above the bumping bass. Your blood hums in anticipation, already knowing who the voice belongs to.

Leona has slipped into the open seat beside you, nursing an Old-Fashioned filled halfway with a strongly scented amber liquid. An orb of ice chills it, so clear cut you can see through to the other side. He sits with an effortless confidence upon his throne, as though he—not Azul—owns the damn place. You'd believe it too, from how the patrons are shouting his name like a mantra.

There’s no greetings to exchange. No need to.

"I think I've found what I was looking for," you tell him teasingly. “Nice of you to throw this little get-together. What’s the occasion? Don’t think I remember when you were in this good of a mood.”

“Who said I was in a good mood?” he grumbles, leaning onto the counter. “Didn't feel like being left alone with my thoughts tonight is all.”

“You, brooding? Never."

He makes a sound as if repressing a dry laugh. “You think yourself clever for an herbivore, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Not as clever as you, though.”

“Hmph. You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego."

It’s comfortable, this trading of quips. Safe. The conversation flowing so easily, like wine poured. It is the only true way you can stand on the same level as him.

Leona lifts the glass and downs the rest of his drink. From the way he winces, it must burn on the way down. You wrinkle your nose at the sharp smell that meets it. Earth spiced with hypnotic smoke and the acrid pang of sorrow.

“They serve alcohol here? I thought those jars on the shelves were full of tea blends.”

Leona scoffs. “If you know the right people and the right strings to pull. The cephalopunk said his establishment was more than happy to provide for me as long as I shelled out and signed some liability waiver.”

“… Does the headmaster know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Leona smirks, placing his newly drained drink down. Immediately, a staff member appears and replaces it with a fresh glass. “What’s he gonna do, anyway? Sue me? I’m of legal drinking age, and ‘s not like I’m passing out alcohol to minors”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees sarcastically. “And you choose to keep me as company.”

“I’m but your humble accomplice, sir.” You jokingly salute to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Rough day?”

He sighs in a way that gives the impression of saying, Like you wouldn't believe. But that tail of his swings back and forth like a patient pendulum, refusing to reveal his secrets. “This isn’t about me.”

“It literally is.” You pass a not-so-subtle glance at his second helping of whisky.

"I'm the host. It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with my feelings, now would it?"

You don't miss how he proceeds to take a swig right after his claim, how readily he consumes poison, even when it hurts him. Alcohol, insults. Pain, self-inflicted.

He has an arsenal of tricks and techniques to deflect—partaking in vices, one of them. Leona's magic rendered fortresses to sand, but he is an expert at building his own structures just the same. Studier, even. Imperious.

Attempting to scale the walls directly, you know, won't get you very far. Not when he has gone to such great lengths to guard his heart. There's a moat with leering crocodiles, barbed wire decorating the gates, a drawbridge firmly closed.

You attempt to breach the subject, toeing the line between testing his patience and challenging it. “What is it that you want then, Leona?”

He falls quiet, staring at the remains of his beverage. It’s like the sphere of ice the whisky swims with is a crystal ball, and he’s peering into it, seeking answers. His verdant eyes shift a shade deeper, darker.

When he’s solemnly silent like this, he’s contemplating. His next move in a game of chess, his next words in a debate. Plotting, scheming.

"A distraction," he declares at last, in that resolute tone he uses when he’s set on capturing a prize.

"A... distraction."

He nods, angling his head toward the noisy lounge. Ruggie is rallying some of the guys for a round of root beer pong. Jack’s trapped in a headlock, the hyena urging him to join in. They’re rowdy and ruddy from the exhilaration that comes with competition.

“Get my mind off of things. Take me away from all of this for a spell."

“How, exactly…?”

Leona drains his second glass. The server slides him a third. "Let's start with your day. From there, ramble about whatever.”

Amuse me, he seems to say, even if his mouth doesn’t. The twinkle has returned to his eyes, brightening them like the stars do the milky way.

You gulp, feeling compelled to obey.

Gathering your thoughts and wetting your lips, you begin. "This morning..."

The story opens like a newborn finding its footing for the first time: clumsily. Granted the space to expand, you do. Slowly, the conventions come to you. Balance, coordination. Each sentence is like a step, taken one at a time.

You run through your daily schedule and, reciting it out loud, you realize how terribly mundane it is. Classes, chores, chums. The usual. Worry flickers through you—Will he be satisfied with this?—but he only gestures for you to continue.

“Ah, so I picked up this new hobby recently…”

Leona props his face up on one hand, curled fingers resting against a cheek. He watches you with a look that isn’t quite predator on prey but isn’t quite human to human either. It’s intimate in a way that makes you feel exposed even when you avert your gaze, calculating enough to make you feel like a complex equation he has yet to solve.

“When something’s hard to get, it makes you want it all the more,” he had once told you. The memory surfaces like bubbles in a flute of champagne. Then it pops, fizzling away in a fine mist, and it is gone.

Moments like this are magic, you think.

You slip into a cadence, a rhythm. You lose count of how many stories you tell, how many whiskies Leona slams down in the span of them.

And still, the glowing green of his irises never seems to stray far from you. Vibrant and pulsating, like plants with heartbeats of their own, swaying in time with a stray breeze. Seeking something.

You don’t know if that concerns or thrills you.

"Ahahah…” You allow yourself a chuckle as you stretch in your seat. “This is so strange, isn’t it? I never thought I'd be rubbing elbows with a prince this time last year.”

Leona responds with a noncommittal “Mmmmm.”

He lowers his gaze to his drink number who knows?, his honey-colored reflection gazing back. When he blinks, his lashes seem to fall and flutter in slow motion.

You wonder what he's thinking, why he's thinking.

You reach for him. Carefully, gently, as if approaching a wounded animal. He is wounded--in that frightening way that leaves no visible marks, no scars.

"Leona..."

You hear your name being called before you can tap his shoulder. You look--there's Jack, waving at you. Ruggie has his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Wanna participate in an arm-wrestling contest? Jack's the reigning champ!"

"Oh, um--" you try to respond, to explain that you're preoccupied. The blaring music washes you out.

Ruggie makes a face of confusion and shouts again: "What?!"

You start to rise from your stool and turn to him, raising your volume. "I said..."

You stop. Your wrist is ensnared in Leona's grasp, cuffing you to the spot.

“… Don’t go." His command cuts through the noise, startling you with its softness, its contrasting clarity.

"It'll only be a second. It's too hard to talk over the--"

"You must've not heard me the firs'time," he interrupts, his words slightly slurring together, one melting into the next. Leona pouts like a child. "I’m orderin' you to stay. Stay here, with me."

"You've been awfully bossy today."

"Cuz you keep bein' a pain in my tail. How'm I supposed to..." The more the man babbles, the more confidence drains from his voice. His proud lion's roar shrinking and shrinking to a kitten's mewl. Tiny, vulnerable. "Don't go. Don't... leave. Everyone else has. They always do."

Non-sarcastic pleading? From Leona?

You eye him in concern. "Being serious for a sec, are you okay?"

He winces, like speaking or touching you is a considerable effort. You're set free, his body slumping as he lays down at the bar. His mane spreads out around him like a pool of chocolate. Leona cradles himself against the cushion of an arm, groaning into it.

Definitely not okay.

You pass Ruggie a firm shake of the head--a no to his offer--then settle back into your seat, returning to Leona.

"I'm here," you reassure him with a soft push against the middle of his chest. "See? I'm not going anywhere." Then you poke him on his forehead. "What's up? You're thinking of something."

He peers at you from behind an arm and snorts. "Thinkin' about how you run your mouth a lot."

"You told me to. I'm just following orders--don't you like that? You're so hard to please."

"I have high standards," he says simply.

"Well..." You lift a brow expectantly. "Am I meeting them?"

This manages to draw out a bark of laughter from him, however strained it sounds. He fixates on you, the start of a scowl upon his searching expression.

Assessing you.

“… Why?” Leona asks suddenly. No proper answer. Instead, an inquiry thrown back in retaliation.

“Why what?”

“Why d’you bother stickin’ around? Why d’you…” A pause, as if the verb that comes next is capable of killing if not handled correctly. “Why do you care so much?”

You shrug. “You don’t really need a reason to care about someone. Anyone with a heart would, right? You’d do the same for me or any of your dorm members.”

“And what do you know about heart?” He fumbles for his drink, but you slyly slide it out of reach. A growl of frustration. “All I got’s a big black hole where my heart should be.”

“That’s not true,” you protest stubbornly. “Your students say so many good things about their dorm leader. They all really look up to you.”

“Hah, as if.” He lifts his head and slams it on the table. “I failed’m. What good’s a king if he can’t produce results? What good’s tryin’ if all there is at the end of the tunnel’s darkness? Can’t even dispatch the damn lizard or beat ‘m at his own game…

You frown. “Hey. hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that… and stop doing that, you’re going to injure yourself.”

Leona doesn’t seem to register anything you say. He continues deliriously mumbling to himself, the alcohol having wiped away his inhibitions and all the cards he so often kept close to his chest.

“I never get what I want,” he complains, dragging himself up—but he sways and is forced to hunch forward on his chair, elbows on the counter for support. “Never, ever. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I work… It all comes crumbling down eventually.”

His hair covers his face the same way the strands of a weeping willow do. You can’t see what kind of an expression is making. Do you want to see it?

He’s sinking, you realize. The same claws that struggle for a firm grip on the rocky ledge he dangles from, the same claws that render enemies to ashes—they don’t help him against crashing waves, the swamp that drags him down, down, down, into its murky depths. No sunlight, no air.

“The crown… the interdorm tournament... love, respect, admiration... Everything slips through m’fingers like sand. It’s some cruel, sick joke. Must be m’fate as the prince with naught.”

“Leona..."

Is this what haunts you every time you're alone in your room? The thoughts that you're scared of visiting you every night... What you needed a distraction from?

“Get my mind off of things," he had said. "Take me away from all of this for a spell."

There's an ache in your chest. The dull, throbbing pain that comes at the end of reading a sad story. His story.

But it's not the end of it, right? It can't be.

Your fingers tangle in his tresses and brush them aside. From behind the curtain, he peers at you like some stray cat having retreated into its cardboard box. And you meet him without hesitation.

"... Hey," you manage. "I think you've had enough. You're starting to say all this... unkind stuff about yourself, and you're not having fun anymore. Can you walk? Let's get you back to Savanaclaw and have you lie down."

Leona sways slightly. Even drunk, his tone is haughty and shreds into you like claws. "You can't tell me what t'do."

"You're the host," you insist with a smile. The words are his, borrowed, sharpened, and repurposed in your possession. "It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with your feelings, now would it?"

He stares at you, eyes blown wide. Then his lids lower, lashes shading his view of you.

"Why... Why d'you hafta be like thish? This would be sho much easier if y'didn’t look at me like that."

"L-Like what?"

Leona inches closer. He usually smells of sun and soil, but all of that has been smothered by the reek of booze. Heat radiates from his face, flushed from liquid courage, and hits yours.

"Like there's still a chance for me." He speaks clearly and concisely, each syllable a brick laid out and sandwiched with mortar to the next. Pouring all his energy into them. "Like you still believe in me."

"Because I do. Is that so wrong?" You're unsure of the answer--a part of you, dreading it.

Leona counters with another question. It is tinged with anger, irritation. "Why can’t you be like the others and just give up already? It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"I can't bring myself to leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. We all want a hand sometimes to lift us up when we're down, so... I want to be that for you. And it seems like you could use that hand to get you out of your troubles right about now."

His lip trembles. Leona's voice comes out huskily. "I hate that dumb, wide-eyed look of yours. So full of hope. When you look at me like that… it makes me think I might still be able to have you.”

“You already have me, dummy. I’m right here, remember?”

“No.” His gaze is intense, almost pulsating. He has a way of scrutinizing that lays you bare before him, pinning you in place and making you inadvertently squirm. “Not in the way I want you t'be.”

Your heart stops, as if he has seized it in his grasp. One squeeze, and he can crush it. It's a mercy he doesn't, even as you erupt into a flurry of confusion, an inferno engulfing you.

"What?" you whisper, scarcely believing your ears. "Wh-What do you mean by that...?"

THUNK!

His balance caves. Leona keels over, the weight of his large body toppling onto yours like a domino crashing into the next one in a sequence.

His head lands on your shoulder, neatly nestling into the junction of your collarbone and neck. Arms loosely snake around your hips, hugging them, his tail wrapping around a leg like a ribbon decorating a pillar. A throaty groan escapes him.

Panic bolts through your muscle and bone.

Your immediate instinct is to shove him off—but he’s heavy and inebriated, and it’s hard for you to fend off the warmth pressed against you. He’s not playing fair. Is he doing this on purpose? You shouldn’t be surprised; he never does.

His low purr tickles you, his breath feathering across your bare skin. He sounds half asleep, caught in that magical twilight realm between the waking world and dreams. “Is it okay… for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you?”

Love?

Four letters, one simple word.

Your surroundings dullen, the chatter and the laughter and the music floating far away. You become acutely aware of all of the places where he touches you, of every spot where you connect. There are so many people gathered in the lounge, but all you can perceive is him: Leona, Leona Kingscholar.

Your mind races, set to a frantic pace like wildebeests rampaging.

Love, the thing with wings that soars high above the clouds. Love, the golden light that brings life to the lands. Love, the wellspring so many drink from.

He feels all of that for you?

It feels like I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming?

"D-Do you really mean that, Leona?" You need to know. You must confirm it. "That you... love me?"

Silence.

“L-Leona…?” you stutter, lightly tapping his back. It rises and falls, rises and falls, like the tides lapping the seashore. Soft, at ease.

But not a response.

One, two, three.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for Leona Kingscholar to knock out--and he is out like a light.

The party and its twisted beat carry on, the bass blasting in your bloodstream, uncaring. And you remain, cradling a snoozing cat in your arms.

... Ah, seriously. How did it turn out like this?

Upset, annoyance--you think that these are, perhaps, what you're meant to be feeling in the moment. They are missing, not so much as a phantom present. Instead, there's an excitable fluttering that doesn't have a name to it yet.

You swallow, still slightly shaken. The confession, raw and revealing, stirring emotions you didn't think possible before. Emotions that burned red hot, with serrated teeth and talons.

A hand goes to the back of his head, stroking his mane and smoothing it out. It's comforting to him, you imagine, but it's comforting to you as well. Grounding.

You're here. He's here. The both of you are here, together.

There is it again, that unnamed, excitable fluttering kicking up back up. It fans out from your core, from your head to the tips of your toes. You feel like you're lighter than air, flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

He loves you.

Leona Kingscholar loves you.

The fingers trapped in his hair stiffen.

You draw out a sigh. It mingles with the music and stretches thin, a string of fabric pulled from a spool.

Until the clock strikes midnight… Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. That much would be okay, wouldn’t it? We can figure out the rest of the story once the sleepy prince wakes from his slumber.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 2

(Unicorn Centaur Riddle wearing his dorm clothes. His hooves are golden as well, but he often wears red covers over them to prevent dirt buildup since it is harder for him to clean out his hooves and he refuses to ask Trey for help most times)

Warnings; Several yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, yandere behavior, monster au, fem reader, very few know reader is fem so mostly they/them pronouns used, deranged behavior, centaurs, unicorns, Nemean lions, Vampire Bats, selkies, minotaurs, genies, nagas, magic, talk of eating humans, arguing, mention of virginity, slight Monster AU history mentioned,

~~~~~~~~

The thorn prince arrived to a scene of chaos as he exited the portal from Diasomnia. Many new students were lost and confused as they had been told to stay put while most of the Housewardens searched the halls, some Vice-Housewardens were desperately trying to keep the peace or even join the search at the behest of the Headmage. He certainly wasn't concerned about what they may be searching for, instead he started heading towards his own Vice-Housewarden with a slight spring in his step, joyful at finding such an odd little creature in Diasomnia.

"Lilia."

The casual summons had the Bat Fae Vice-Housewarden turning to look at the newcomer who had not been expected to make an appearance after receiving no invitation. Naturally, Lilia was surprised that the dour Dragon chose to go against his own code of conduct and arrive at a ceremony he had no true part in. His stern expression did not seem so serious, making Lilia wonder just what had happened to bring Malleus of all students to his side.

"Malleus? I didn't expect to see you here without invitation."

"Yes, well," the prince pouted in response to the reminder, "I have plenty good reason to seek you out despite the lack of invitation."

"Oh? Do tell. You aren't often so brazen about casually entering the company of others."

"The Gargoyles have borne a child of flesh and not stone."

"... What?"

"I found the soft being sleeping beneath the Human-Gargoyle that was made 1010 years ago. They look much like the Gargoyle and don't seem to be of any other Twisted Wonderland species. As they seemed so fragile and their stone parents weren't keen to protect them, I took them to my nest. Of course, it is odd the Gargoyle child was clothed so shortly after being birthed, but removing their shoes to lay them to rest was of no trouble to me."

The conversation had drawn the attention of both the frazzled and the curious who were also equally shocked to see Malleus in the flesh. Of course, it didn't take long for the Crow Headmage to intervene, figuring what had happened rather quickly. Before the Headmage could speak, however, Lilia beat him to the punch with a much more patient tone and approach.

"Malleus, after centuries of studying Gargoyles, what do you know is true about all Gargoyles?"

"They are stone of various kinds. They double as spouts to keep water from gathering on roofs. They are often depictions of animals, creatures, and other beings."

"How often have you encountered a Gargoyle that has produced an infant?"

"... It is possible."

"How often have you encountered a Gargoyle that has produced an infant of flesh and blood?"

"..."

Lilia would have laughed in a good humored way if he were not being watched by all of the new students and their seniors who had come to aid them in settling in. It was not Malleus' fault that he came to the conclusion that the Gargoyles had produced offspring, the truth was just as far fetched.

What was interesting Lilia more than the topic at hand was the fact Malleus had taken the wayward Human into his nest. Dragons were rarely keen to share things like their nests or their Hoard with others, especially those they know little about. The simple fact that Malleus took the Human into his nest was enough to show that the dragon had already taken a unique interest and intended to make the Human a member of his living Hoard. Malleus may not often take new creatures or items for his Hoard, but the few he claimed had little room to argue as the Dragon was fiercely protective of those he viewed as his.

"What you found, Malleus, is an actual Human. Ironic they took shelter beneath a Human Gargoyle, but they had fled from here perhaps an hour before you arrived. They must have decided to use one of the portals to flee and wound up in Diasomnia instead where you found them. Don't worry, I can get them from your nest so they don't-"

"You will not be taking the Human from my nest, Lilia."

"Oh? Keeheehee~ Have you taken a liking to them, Malleus? Humans are very fragile, you know."

"They may not be the child of a Gargoyle, like I thought them to be, but that does not change the fact that they are in my nest, and under my protection."

It was then a sneering scoff came from the crowd, the new students quickly parting to let the intimidating Nemean Lion strut forward with his tail flicking in annoyance. The man himself had beautiful sun-kissed bronze skin that held the faintest golden glimmer, his shining eyes of acidic green glinted with pride and frustration. Even with his rich dark mahogany colored hair, he gave off a beautiful shine that made him look like he was sculpted out of pure gold.

"And you think you're the best choice for a Human? Human's need light, food, and water, not to be locked up in a creepy ass dungeon that doubles as a nest for an overgrown lizard. That Human is better off in Savanaclaw, not Diasomnia."

Before Malleus could respond to the clear taunt from Leona, another voice with a haughty tone cut in.

"Not even if the Seven proclaimed it, would I believe you can be gentle or safe with a Human, Leona. Nemean Lions were the last holdout group that insisted on eating Humans before they were officially declared extinct."

Approaching with far more grace than he should have was the Housewarden of Pomefiore, the Peacock Harpy Vil. He was clearly posturing as his seven head feathers sat straight up in a clear showing of his crest. Even his tail feathers were slightly fanned out as they caught the light and gave an iridescent display of colors.

"Oh? And what the Hell would you do to protect them, Vil? Doll the Human up in fancy ass clothes and make them preen like a prissy little Harpy?"

"Do speak up, Leona. I could barely hear you over your prideful bitching. Or do you want another scar to even out that scowling expression of yours? Maybe I'll take your eye this time."

This made a snarl escape the golden Lion, his tail lashing violently back and forth in response to the clear threat from the Harpy. Luckily the Headmage had called the other Housewardens to return as well as requesting the teachers to assist in the unusual situation. All he had to do was step between the Lion and Harpy in an effort to keep them from attacking one another until the others showed up.

"I will decide where the Human shall stay and who is safe enough to leave around the Human. They are an extremely rare creature and cannot be treated so callously. You both are Housewardens, please act with the proper decorum."

It was then the clear clopping of hooves on the marble floor could be heard, the others quickly returning to the Hall of Mirrors thanks to Crowley's summons.

"I demand to know the location of the Human! The Queen's rules insist that Humans must be protected and cared for properly, and I refuse to allow the mistreatment of one of the Queen's most protected species!"

Each syllable was accompanied by the distinct click of his golden hooves against the stone floors as Riddle came to a slow halt in front of the Headmage. Naturally, the Unicorn Centaur was the first to know any obscure information due to his inherent hunger for knowledge and desire to follow rules. If anyone knew of rules regarding Humans, especially any rules made in by the Queen of Hearts, Riddle would be the one to know them all.

"Riddle, I assure you that the Human will be properly cared for-"

"Have you already provided them with adequate snacks that don't have pig-fat in them? The Queen's rule 898 states that all Humans must be denied pig heavy meals as they are genetically close enough to pigs that it can cause stomach troubles but must be able to access food consistently due to their digestion processes. Queen's rule 899 states that Humans need to be kept in optimal temperatures that should not exceed the boiling point of water and should not be less than the freezing point of water. Not to mention rule 900 that talks about the proper protocol for finding mates for a Human and their regional specific breeding patterns-"

The others couldn't help but stare at the Unicorn Housewarden who continued to prattle off the various rules regarding the treatment of Humans. He was far more sensitive to the wellbeing of the Human as Unicorns were historically rather fond of Humans- female maidens especially- and were the first to oppose the idea of Humans being cattle for other species. As a Unicorn Centaur, Riddle was far more attuned to emotions and natural law than a Harpy would be and far more aware of the fragility of mortality than a Dragon would be.

"The Human will be treated properly with adherence to the rules, Riddle. We should try and trust the Headmage to do that much."

The taller and more intimidating Centaur next to Riddle now spoke, resting a hand atop the shoulder of the temperamental Unicorn. Though he shared similar coloring on his equine half to Riddle, the second Centaur was clearly of a different breed as he was larger and more stocky than the Unicorn. His green hair was ruffled and he had clearly been out searching for the Human with Riddle before they were called back to the Headmage.

"No, Trey, he won't even follow the rules of an unbirthday party! How can I trust that he will do what is required to keep this Human safe and cared for? That virgin human must be protected at all costs!"

"How are you so sure they are a virgin?"

"I can sense their purity!"

Trey continued to try and talk down the upset Unicorn, trying to be a voice of calm and reason to his hot-headed equine companion. This left room for an interjection from yet another Housewarden returning from their search for the elusive Human of Night Raven College.

"Wow! You sure know a lot about Humans, Riddle! I wouldn't expect anything else from the Unicorn who is top in his classes!"

The newcomer's approach came with a golden light that shined from somewhere within his very being. His white hair was a stark contrast to his richly toned skin and crimson eyes, the ever present smile on his face just as dazzling as the gold and jewels that hung from his figure. To his side was his ever consistent Naga companion, the blacks and reds of his scales almost bleeding together in the golden light. The faint flick of golden scales caught in the light of the Genie added to the unusual mystique of the Sand Viper Naga that followed dutifully behind his Housewarden.

"You would know these things too if you payed any attention in class, Kalim!"

"Ouch, a bit harsh, Riddle? I can't help that Trein is so boring sometimes that I fall right asleep! If I knew we were getting a Human classmate, I would have paid more attention."

It was then the Naga spoke up, his voice smooth like honey and just as rich despite the gentle way he spoke. His dark hair was neatly pulled back in intricate braids that ended with a golden trinket and kept most of the dark locks from obstructing his gaze.

"Kalim, even if we didn't get a Human classmate, you should still pay attention in class."

"I guess you're right, Jamil. But still, isn't a Human being here exciting?"

"Yes, well, it is certainly unusual..."

"I could keep them safe in my lamp and that way no one has to worry if they are in trouble or not because no one can enter my lamp without my permission anyway!"

"I don't think you could be trusted with a Human like that..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. In any case, the Human's wellbeing should be top priority given how rare they are. Most Housewardens should be able to protect the Human as needed, but that isn't even mentioning the danger a Housewarden could represent to the Human."

As the conversation carried on and the other Housewardens and Vice-Housewardens returned from their search, the older crow Fae couldn't be more pleased. Taking on a Human would be quite a bit of work for anyone, but it seemed rather clear that the Housewardens were keen to do what was needed for the Human to stay. Not to mention the fact that the heir-apparent of Briar Valley- The Prince of Thorns, Malleus Draconia- had already claimed the Human as one of his protected treasures. There wasn't much protection better than that.

Still, perhaps it would be best to not leave a fragile Human in the nest of an overly protective Dragon.

~•§•~

You woke slowly to the sounds of voices around you, feeling a soft surface beneath your head and a warm blanket wrapped around your figure. It certainly wasn't where you had fallen asleep- as you had been huddled beneath a hideous Gargoyle when sleep finally claimed you- but you weren't really complaining about the plush surface either. If anything, the voices around you that were clearly arguing were causing you more stress than the new location you found yourself in.

"The Child of Man is mine to protect! I will not allow any of you to take them from my nest."

"Malleus, please, we all know the Human needs somewhere other than your nest to live. They need their own space and their own home to feel comfortable and not die from stress."

"They are protected here and have their own space here in Diasomnia."

"Malleus-"

Your increased movements made the arguing quiet down as you sat up, letting out a squeaking sound when you stretched. It was likely the ever present haze of sleep over your mind that kept you so calm despite the unfamiliar surroundings. That calm feeling didn't last long as you received a harsh reminder that you were the only Human present. Standing in front of you was a fair-skinned man with dark black hair and monstrous features. His black wings folded slightly as he turned to look at you, bright green eyes examining you quickly for any sign of distress. Atop his head sat two twisting black horns that formed a kind of crown for the regal scaled man standing in front of you.

Past the intimidating man's shoulder you saw the familiar Crow-like man flanked on either side by equally monstrous appearing men.

One of the men had clear black and white hair that copied or complimented the black and white coat hanging from his shoulders. His steel gray eyes seeming so cold until they softened slightly, gazing at you the way one would gaze at a prized pet. This man seemed more Human than any of the others you met prior, giving you a small bit of hope that you weren't alone in your plight. Still, there was the high chance that this man was some kind of monster too and just didn't look it at first glance like the others.

On the other side of the Crow stood a man that reminded you of a Bull with long horns that would have knocked into the head of the Crow-man if the Bull were any shorter. The man had deep brown hair and bright blue eyes, his muscular build clear even beneath the red sweat-suit he wore. Despite his Human-like face, he was obviously not Human thanks to the clear horns and Bull tail waving lazily behind him.

It appeared- from first glance- that the reptilian man was guarding you from the others rather aggressively and was not keen to let you go with the Crow and his companions. Part of you was glad to feel such comfort, but you also had to wonder just what it was the reptilian man ultimately wanted from you. While you mused this, another voice from behind you startled you into almost jumping from the bed, looking back in surprise at the source of the voice.

You saw what looked like a young man with black and pink hair sitting on the bed near where you had been laying. He had apparent fangs that peaked past his upper lip and two leathery batwings that had clearly endured some damage throughout the years. Sitting square in the center of his face was a little fleshy heart-nose like some kind of Bat. This man had been present when you fell from the coffin not too long ago, so it confused you that he chose to speak to you now.

"It seems you're finally awake, little Human. Maybe you can help us with our current predicament? You are a rare species that has been believed to be extinct for more than a few centuries now. As one of the top Magic schools in all of Twisted Wonderland, it is the school's job to protect you and keep you safe from those who would wish to see Humans extinct once more. Malleus here found you sleeping under the Gargoyles and has decided to claim you- for better or worse- as one of the creatures he needs to protect. That brings us here, to Malleus' nest. They," he gestured to the Crow and his companions, "believe you would be better off with one of the professors guarding and protecting you from the common rabble. Malleus," he gestured now to the reptile man, "is of the mind that you are most protected here in his nest."

You were surprised and confused by the Bat-man telling you all of this as the Crow had given you the impression that your opinion and wants did not matter in the situation you found yourself in. As far as you were aware, the Crow intended to keep you as a pet, but this Malleus person had the same idea and didn't want to share you with the Crow.

"... Why are you in his nest too?"

"Oh, becuase Malleus likes to protect those he cares about. He is a Dragon, after all, and those he cares about are counted among his Hoard. I have been his teacher for many centuries now, so naturally I am one of his Hoard members. Only those who are part of his Hoard or Malleus himself is allowed to enter his nest without being burned alive. That means you too now, congratulations."

You now glanced back at the reptilian man, seeing the way he stood with his back to you and wings spread in a shielding action. It made sense that this man was a Dragon given his features and attributes. Despite now knowing a Dragon was guarding you, you still had no idea why these people were so desperate to get their hands on you. Even if they were right and Humans were extinct, that didn't mean it made much sense to you for them to try and keep you as a pet like this.

"So, sweet little Human, what would you like?"

"I would like people to say my name and not call me Human."

"My apologies, it has been a hectic day thus far. What is your name?"

"It's (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

"(Y/n) (L/n)... The last Human in Twisted Wonderland."

[wrxthfulguard]

Welcome to Ignihyde Dorm. Book 6: ‘The Watchman of the Underworld’ is now available to play.

[rayroseu]

dont fight all alone in the rain, mother

I found it depressing that when Meleanor faced the Silver Owls, it was raining hard and she didn't have an umbrella to shield her from it. In her life, she was always the spoiled and sheltered princess so her standing in the rain feels so dissonance with her noble nature, but it also tells that she went in that battlefield without anyone protecting her.

I also realized that, unlike Levan, when Meleanor bid goodbye to Lilia, she never said that she'll return. Baul and Lilia trusted that she'll survive and return home yet Meleanor didn't believe that could happen so she didn't promise she'll come back. 💔😭

[allknowingaxolotl]

Diasomnia’s pretty neat I thinq

[clown-bimbo]

Despite being transmigrated to a world of magic almost completely different to your own, with a rich history and culture you know nothing about, you are still expected to go to school.

And you can't even get any of your medications for it.

You're like halfway through the school year, and you are stressed. Maybe that's putting it nicely. You are stressed, pressed, and depressed, and studying for a history test of a world you were never a part of. And on top of all the typical school bullshit, there's also your social life, Grim, whatever bullshit Crowley throws your way. There's also the crushing dread you'll never get home again, and the depression that comes with your situation and oh yeah the depression that runs rampant in your brain without the proper chemicals to tell it to shut up.

You're fuckin S T R E S S E D.

And your buddies are starting to notice it.

Hi, and welcome to the first horny addition to Stuck In TWST Without Meds. Today we'll be taking a look at how Cater, Trey, Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, and Malleus might fuck your brains out to distract you from the fucking everything in your life.

18+ content below the cut. minors, this one isn't for you

all characters (including you) are 18+. established relationships.

In hindsight I don't think this is at all "smutty" enough so I'm sorry!!! But I'm really proud of how each one ends. Might go back and make them smuttier or make a smuttier part two idk but I like how it is rn

🍀

Trey already typically stays up fairly late, what with vice housewarden duties and all, but he's surprised to find you have him beat. When he left you in his room, it was with your promise that you'd be done in a minute. Buy he was gone for a good half hour longer than 'a minute', and there you were, still at his desk, furiously scribbling away with bags under your eyes.

Cute.

You don't even notice when he comes up from behind you to place a small kiss on your cheek.

"I think it's about time for bed, prefect."

"Just a minute."

"That's what you said an hour ago."

That gets you to actually look at the time. You whimper at the hour gone (and little progress made), but brush him off.

"It'll only take a minute."

Trey sighs and shakes his head.

He considers for a second leaving you be, but this is the man who got Riddle away from studying for treats. He's got tricks up his sleeve. Though he is about to use some very different tricks for you.

It starts with his hands on your shoulders. Innocent little rubs to your shoulders. Another kiss to your cheek. A kiss to your jaw. A kiss to your neck... that sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. A nibble.

His hands are moving, too. From your shoulders, to your biceps. Soon he's taking your hand in his, holding it up to his lips.

"Trey--"

"Yes?"

"W-what," You suck in a breath as he leaves another love bite on your neck. "What are you doing?"

He simply hums.

His other hand gets to your thigh.

Your pen is abandoned.

💎

Cater whines your name from his spot on his bed.

"Just a second, Cater."

"But that's what you said an hour ago!"

He has that adorable look in his eyes, and if you'd only look at him!!! he KNOWS he'd have you in his hands.

But you won't, and he doesn't.

He flops back onto the bed with a sigh.

Until he gets an idea.

For a second, one foolish second, you think you have peace. Until you start hearing a quiet but telltale shlick shlick shlick.

His breathing starts to quicken. Then he's oanting. Soon you can hear quiet moans escape his lips.

And you can hear your name as well.

God damn it.

Cater grins as you finally get up from his desk.

🦁

Your stress is stressing Leona out.

He's lounging on his bed while you work on studying for Trein's test. Leona commented that you're taking freshman history, which is "baby stuff" to which you reminded him "I AM LITERALLY NOT FROM THIS WORLD, LEONA." And, to his credit, he did try to tutor you, but Leona is the kind of tutor that only works for certain individuals and you, bless your heart, are not that type.

So he gave up (lazy lion) while you continued to work. But he can basically hear your cogs turning from his spot and it's just not productive for either of you.

So, with a growl, Leona grabs you by the collar, only to start aggressively unbuttoning it.

"Leona-"

"Shut up."

"Leona, I-"

To which you are met with a 'shut up' kiss.

But you're pretty quick to forgive him once he has you on your knees under him.

"You're working too hard, Herbivore." He grunts from over you. "Give that little brain of yours a break and let me do all the work, alright?"

🏹

It's already difficult for you to continue studying when you have Rook whispering all sorts of French terms of endearment into your ear.

He's all over you, trying to coax you away from work and into bed with massages and the aforementioned French nothings.

Nothing.

He sighs, leaning back.

Until a wicked little idea brings a grin to his face.

"Mon amour," He whispers, to which you hum in reply. "I'm going to get a snack." Another hum.

A second later you feel a hand at your pants zipper. You look down to see none other than Rook, of course, hitting you with a closed eyed smile.

👑

Vil had been helping you with your homework. Bit even after he had stopped to get changed for bed, you had kept to it. And now you had vil worried about you. While he respected your gumption, you weren't going to get anything out of staying up all night and worrying yourself. You had used up your productive hours (quite productively, he would like to add) and now it is time for sleep.

He calls your name once.

...

Oh, this will not do.

He stalks over to you. He reaches out with one perfectly manicured hand and traces your jawline.

"Darling," He purrs. "It's time for bed."

"I cant." You reply. "I-"

"Uh, uh, uh, uh." He brings a slender finger to your lips. He takes your chin between his fingers and turns you to look at him.

"It's time for bed." He repeats. "Are you going to behave for me, or am I going to have to show a naughty little spud its place?"

💀

Let's be real, Idia's probably not going to sleep at a reasonable time, but he's also not staying up stewing over homework. If he's gonna have you staying up all night in his room with him it's gonna be—

W-w-w-wait, not like that!!! He was gonna say if you're gonna be staying up all night with him it would be cuz you're playing videos games! That's all!!

Oh, but now he's thinking about it... but you're working... ugh, but it's such beginner knowledge! But you're so focused... you... you wouldn't notice if he–

But you do notice. You do notice the 6 foot tall flaming haired nerd (affectionate) humping against you. It would be harder not to notice.

🐉

Malleus is concerned about his precious child of man. He can see how stressed you are. How hard you work. He wants nothing more than alleviate the troubles plaguing your mind.

And Lilia had a... curious suggestion.

Youre working away within your own dorm room when there's a knock at your door.

Malleus grins down at you.

"May I come in?"

And you say yes.

You worry about your work left upstairs, but you play the role of gracious host and prepare him a cup of tea. He takes a seat.

"You've been troubled recently." He notes.

You sigh. "I've just been stressed with all this work."

"I see." He's silent for a moment. "I dont like seeing you in so much distress." He confesses. "Might I offer my assistance?"

You blink. "Oh, sure. Yes, I'd love that. Thank you." You expect he's going to help you study.

You do not expect, however, for him to press you up against a wall and his lips against yours.

[myeagleexpert]

A story about the director and Grim, who are very close friends <3

Translation from fan to fan, all credits go to the appropriate artist, see the source in the pin below:https://br.pinterest.com/pin/902690319055568233/

Who else wants to see Grim's final form? but…. What cost would this have?