The silence in the house was blissful. No footsteps, no booming voices, no unexpected interruptions. Just peace—and an open window letting in the soft afternoon breeze. You thought everyone was gone. Finally, some alone time.

The door was locked, curtains drawn. You sank into your bed, sighing as tension slipped from your shoulders. One hand slid beneath the sheets, fingers moving with slow intent as heat curled in your belly. You let your mind drift, imagining strong hands, a deep, rich voice—Diavolo’s voice.

He was always so charismatic, so commanding. The way he looked at you when he laughed, like you were the only one in the room. You imagined him towering over you, golden eyes darkening as that playful grin turned wicked.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you whispered his name—

Bang.

“MC! I meant to—”

Diavolo stopped in the doorway, eyes locking onto you as your hand froze mid-motion. He blinked. Then again. Slowly, realization dawned on his face, and his expression shifted from surprised to something else entirely—amused, curious… intrigued.

You scrambled for the covers, face flushed. “I-I thought you weren’t home!”

“I wasn’t,” he replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “But now I’m very glad I came back early.”

His gaze swept over you, lingering with unmistakable interest. “I was going to ask you a question, but it seems you were already… quite occupied.”

His voice dropped, smooth and teasing. “Were you thinking about me, MC? I wouldn’t mind if you were. In fact…” He chuckled, low and warm, stepping closer. “I’d be flattered.”

Your heart pounded as he leaned just a bit nearer, golden eyes gleaming.

“Next time,” he whispered, “why not let me help you… get the answer you’re really looking for?”