#i thought it was “my heart is is your hands as we dance to the masochism tango” but its NOT its

[mechaknight-98]

No Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Jihyo Park

Series Masterlist Here

Operator’s notes: Please not while there is a lot of plot and fluff in this story there is an insane amount of smut. Also my current longest posted fic so enjoy more Jihyo.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd's roar filled the arena, a wave of energy that sent shivers down Jihyo's spine. As the music started, her body moved effortlessly, each step, each note, perfectly synchronized with her group. But this time, something was different. There was a fire burning within her, a drive that pushed her to give more than she ever had before.

Voljune's presence was strong, their memories and emotions intertwining with hers, fueling her performance. With each beat, Jihyo felt Voljune's pride and determination course through her veins. She wasn’t just performing; she was leading, and guiding her group with a newfound strength that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the music.

As the chorus hit, Jihyo glanced out into the crowd, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. And then, she saw him. Dio, standing near the front, his smile radiant as he danced along with the music. His presence was a beacon, a source of light that filled her with warmth.

*“Look at him,”* Voljune’s voice echoed in her mind, soft and admiring. *“He’s so happy, so free. We need to protect that, Jihyo.”*

*“We will,”* Jihyo replied internally, her heart swelling with emotion. *“No matter what it takes, we’ll keep him safe. He deserves this happiness, and we’ll ensure he keeps it.”*

The thought of Dio, his laughter, and his joy, gave Jihyo a renewed sense of purpose. She could feel Voljune’s memories of survival, of pushing through impossible odds, blending with her own desire to succeed. It wasn’t just about being the best; it was about being the best for them—for Dio, for Twice, for everyone who believed in her.

With a final burst of energy, Jihyo led the group into the climax of the performance, her voice soaring, her movements more powerful than ever. The crowd responded, their cheers vibrating through the stage, a tangible confirmation of the connection she had forged with them.

As the final note lingered in the air, Jihyo stood tall, her chest heaving with exertion, but her heart full. She glanced at Dio one last time, and his beaming smile was all the reward she needed.

*“We’re stronger together,”* Voljune whispered, the warmth of their shared bond enveloping Jihyo.

*“And we’ll keep getting stronger,”* Jihyo thought back, determination burning brightly within her. *“For him, for us, for everything we’re fighting for.”*

After the performance and a few celebratory drinks with the other members, Jihyo headed home, her body buzzing with the high of the night. The energy from the stage, the cheers of the crowd, and the warmth of her group’s love still swirled in her chest as she entered the code for their small place.

As the door clicked open, a wave of something unexpected surged through her—desire, anticipation. Voljune stirred within her, not just an idle whisper in the back of her mind but a powerful presence, closer than usual. Jihyo paused at the doorway, her hand gripping the handle as an unspoken sensation coursed between them.

Voljune’s voice broke through, her tone unsteady, *“I... I’m feeling something strange. Your hormones, Jihyo... they’re spiking.”*

Jihyo blinked, slightly amused by the reaction. *“What do you mean?”*

*“You’re about to start ovulating,”* Voljune responded, her voice husky, edged with something unfamiliar. *“I’ve never felt anything like this before... this intensity. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself around Dio.”*

Jihyo chuckled softly, her hand relaxing on the door. *“Oh, I think he won’t mind. You know how he is.”* The thought of Dio brought warmth to her chest, a feeling of safety and love that grounded her. She pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, quieting her footsteps as she walked down the hallway to their shared bedroom.

The soft glow from the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle silver hue across the room. Dio lay peacefully asleep, his broad frame sprawled comfortably across the bed. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, and calming, and Jihyo’s heart swelled at the sight of him. For a moment, she just stood there, watching him. His presence felt like home—a grounding force amidst the chaos of her life.

*“He looks so at peace,”* Voljune murmured, her voice softer now, full of wonder. *“You’re right... he shouldn’t be alive, after everything. But... I’m happy he is.”*

Jihyo smiled, her heart warming at Voljune’s admission. *“Me too,”* she whispered.

She quietly set down her things and tiptoed to the bathroom, slipping into the shower. The warm water cascaded over her, easing the lingering tension in her muscles from the performance. As the steam enveloped her, she reflected on the conversation with Voljune. She could feel how Voljune’s emotions were intertwined with hers more deeply now—the shared pulse of excitement, desire, even curiosity. Voljune had never experienced these human urges in such a raw, immediate way. It was as if their bond was evolving, becoming something more intricate, more unified.

Jihyo stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and slipped into something comfortable. Quietly, she padded back into the bedroom, the soft shuffle of her feet barely disturbing the stillness.

Sliding into bed beside Dio, she felt the familiar warmth of his body against hers. The moment she pressed herself against his back, a deep contentment settled over her. She spooned him gently, her arm draping over his waist, her fingers resting against his chest. Dio stirred slightly in his sleep, his hand unconsciously moving to rest atop hers. Even in his dreams, he sought her out.

*“You know,”* Jihyo whispered internally to Voljune, *“I’ve thought about this a lot. About how he defies everything we know. He’s stronger than he should be. He’s survived things no one else could.”*

Voljune hummed in agreement, their shared thoughts rippling between them like waves. *“It’s more than that though, isn’t it? There’s something about him. Something... beyond us, beyond even my kind.”*

Jihyo’s fingers tightened slightly on Dio’s chest, her mind drifting as she buried her face into the curve of his back. *“Whatever it is, I’m just glad he’s here. Alive. With us.”*

*“So am I,”* Voljune replied softly, her tone full of conviction. *“We’ll protect him, Jihyo. No matter what.”*

As Jihyo’s body relaxed against Dio’s, she felt the subtle, quiet connection between the three of them—herself, Dio, and Voljune—all bound together by something stronger than mere survival. It was love, in its most primal, most protective form.

And in that moment, as she drifted closer to sleep, Jihyo knew that no matter the challenges ahead, they were stronger together. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man peacefully resting beside her—and nothing Voljune wouldn’t do either.

As she embraced him she felt a bizarre texture on his chest. She traced the pattern and a memory flashed into her mind:

As Jihyo’s fingers traced the bizarre pattern on Diabolos’s chest, a sudden wave of foreign memories crashed through her mind, sharp and vivid. She felt Voljune stirring, pulling her consciousness back, and before she could react, the world around her shifted.

The scent of iron and blood filled the air. The echo of ragged breathing and distant screams rang in her ears.

It wasn’t her memory—this was Voljune’s.

Jihyo blinked, disoriented, but the scene before her was all too real. She was no longer in the comfort of her shared bedroom with Dio. Instead, she stood in a cold, dimly lit room—a sterile, metallic chamber that hummed with faint energy, like a place where no warmth could survive.

Diabolos stood at the center, his body hunched over in agony. His skin was pale, and slick with sweat, and his breath came in uneven gasps. His chest, once powerful and broad, was heaving as though something was trying to tear its way out from within. His eyes, normally so full of life, were wide and wild, as though he were trapped inside his own body, fighting against an invisible force.

Voljune, or at least a younger version of her, stood helplessly at the edge of the room, bound by the laws of her kind. She could only watch as her sibling, Ruhan, ripped through Dio’s flesh in a grotesque display of parasitic horror.

Jihyo, feeling every bit of Voljune’s fear and disgust, was frozen in the memory. Her mind screamed, No, not him!

Diabolos’s body convulsed violently, his muscles spasming as the skin on his chest bulged unnaturally. With a sickening crack, something inside him shifted—something dark, monstrous. And then it happened. His chest split open with a wet, gruesome tear, blood splattering the floor as Ruhan, Voljune’s sibling, began to force their way out. He sensed the power of the chained Narset nearby and craved it so he did what he always did he found a new host.

Ruhan wasn’t a being of grace like Voljune. They were savage, and feral, driven by the need to bond with something more powerful, something that could feed their endless hunger for strength. Narset had called to them—promised them dominance, power beyond imagination—and Ruhan had answered.

As Ruhan’s form writhed free of Diabolos’s body, they were like a mass of sinew and tendrils, a horrifying amalgamation of parasitic flesh. Dio’s screams of pain echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the cold metal walls. The sound was pure agony, a sound that could tear through even the most hardened hearts. Narset watched the fire rage inside of her pupil's eyes as he fought to stay alive.

Voljune, still bound by the laws of their kind, watched in horror as her sibling abandoned the man she had grown so attached to. She had known this moment would come—had felt the tension building for weeks as Narset’s presence grew stronger—but she hadn’t been ready for the sheer violence of it. Ruhan had used Dio, fed on him, and then discarded him like a broken vessel.

Narset stood at the far side of the room, her eyes gleaming with twisted terror as Ruhan slithered to her Chained body. She tried to run away and hoped that she could do anything but Ruhan was moving closer.

“No!” Voljune screamed within Jihyo’s mind. “Dio... don’t let them... please... fight it...” But even as she begged, she knew it was futile. The Severing was nearly complete. The process was supposed to kill the host, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.

But Diabolos—he wasn’t like anyone else. Even in his weakest moments, his will was indomitable.

Ruhan fully detached from Diabolos, their grotesque form slithering toward Narset. The room was silent for a moment, save for Diabolos’s labored breathing and the gagging of Narset as Ruhan forced himself into Narset. Dio's chest was a ruin of blood and torn flesh, but he was still alive. He shouldn’t have been, but there he stood, his body trembling as he fought to stay conscious.

And then, with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, Diabolos pushed himself up from his knees, his hand gripping his chest where Ruhan had torn free. His eyes blazed with fury, cutting through the haze of pain. His entire body radiated with an unnatural force, something deeper than physical power—born of his sheer will to survive.

He staggered forward, toward Narset and Ruhan, his lips curled into a snarl.

“I’m not done yet,” Diabolos growled, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

Narset turned, now fully merged as one surprised to see him still standing. For a moment, even she faltered. She had underestimated him—underestimated the force of his spirit. But before Diabolos could make another move, his body collapsed, his strength finally giving out.

Voljune rushed forward, her own form stretching toward him, desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to help him survive. But Narset’s laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “You see, Voljune? He’s already lost. He’s nothing without me.”

Voljune couldn’t respond, couldn’t even speak. She could only focus on Diabolos, on keeping him alive. She pressed her essence into him, trying to heal the worst of the damage, trying to save what little was left of the man she had grown to care for.

As the memory began to fade, Jihyo was pulled back into the present, the familiar warmth of her bedroom returning. She found herself lying beside Dio once more, her hand still resting gently on his chest where the faint scars of the Severing remained. The horror of the memory lingered in her mind, but so did one undeniable truth:

He had survived, and that was enough for now as she snuggled closer to him, and found comfort in his warmth.

The next morning Dio got up early and went over his website to manage any of the recent orders then sent the confirmation and payment to his embroiderer so the clothes could be ready to ship. After that, he decided to make breakfast for Jihyo. Jihyo and Voljune woke up a little later to the smell of cooked meat and a few other sweet-smelling scents, but they couldn’t process that as Jihyo’s body was deep in the throes of desire and lust. She got with a ravenous hunger that food couldn’t fill. She needed dick. Luckily for her, her favorite one was just outside.

She stripped down to her bra and panties before walking outside where she watched Dio with rapacious eyes. Dio was so caught up in cooking though that he didn’t notice the gaze of a hungry lioness watching him. He didn’t notice her inching closer as he finished until she pounced on him when he had finished the dishes.

He was startled when Jihyo grabbed his shoulders before turning him around and violently kissing him. She smelled good to him almost irresistibly so. This was in part due to Voljune knowing Dio and what made his heart race, and making Jihyo’s pheromones mimic it.

“God you smell so good,” Dio said as his head swam with lust. Jihyo smiled as his eyes lost focus. She rubbed her thighs together in anticipation, before grabbing him and bringing him into another sloppy kiss. Voljune couldn’t hold back anymore as she dialed up her and Jihyo’s sensitivity to as high as it could go. When she broke this kiss and stared at Dio he didn’t see Jihyo or even Voljune he saw his woman radiating sex as she beckoned him back to their bedroom. Jihyo smiled before locking the door.

“You’re not leaving this room until you can’t get it up.” She said before finding his box of condoms and throwing them out of the room. Dio gulped terrified and turned on. His dick painfully erect peeked through his pants. Jihyo smiled as she closed the distance while taking her bra off. When she climbed on the bed the only thing on both of her minds was draining Dio dry.

“Are you ready?” Jihyo said in an almost lullaby tone which reached the dazed Dio. He nodded slowly making Jihyo smile as she pulled down his sweatpants freeing his cock. Jihyo began to lick the underside of his shaft going from base to tip. Slowly she would trace his cock’s silhouette with her tongue and he’d watch the excruciating torture tear his brain apart and mend it barely back with the pleasure she granted.

“Fuck Jihyo just ride me I can’t take it anymore!” Dio growled as his erection became painful from her work. Jihyo smiled accepting his readiness. She crawled to his face and looked into his eyes. All she could see was a deep lust that mirrored how she felt. She smiled and said,

“Oh, you really want me. You must love me,” she said happily. Dio eyes rolled back as she aligned him with her pussy and slowly sank down. When their hips became flush Jihyo moaned in ecstasy. “Fuck!!! you fill me so well,” Jihyo screamed before slowly bucking her hips trying to adjust how her walls cling to Dio’s cock and she can barely contain the pleasure radiating off of her. It was too much and after three bounces she was cumming all over Dio’s cock, but lucky for her Voljune had her back and her body was ready to go in seconds.

“Okay Dio Fuck me,” Jihyo said and Dio began thrusting into her. His hands rested on her sexy hips and abs as he thrust in and out of her. Jihyo was a sodden wailing mess, as she fell deeper and deeper into the ocean of pleasure Dio and Voljune were giving her. Voljune was also delirious from it all as she felt all of what Jihyo felt. Dio in a weak attempt at revenge reciprocated the same slow tortuous pace Jihyo had subjected him to as she could barely keep it together while he pounded her deep.

“Fuck you’re hitting my G-spot,” Jihyo moaned as she came again. She looked down and pulled Dio to be on top of her, as she wrapped his legs around him.

“Fuck me, please!” Jihyo begged Diabolos.

“Please fucking cum in me,” Jihyo says as her pussy contacts tighter massaging a potent large load out of him. Jihyo is heaving trying to catch her breath but Voljune takes over and for the first time truly feels Jihyo's body as her she wraps her hands around her chest and slowly drifts to her clit.

“Fuck this body is so lewd,” she says

“These swollen plump breasts. This firm soft ass. Fuck this sopping sodden mess between my legs.” Voljune moans. Her words force another erection in Dio and Voljune loses it.

“God yes. Fuck make us serve no other purpose than to be your semen repository. Drown my pussy in your cum. Voljune watches with lusty glee as Dio plows into her. She watches the way her breasts jiggle and reaches out to suck on the left one while Dio continues plowing her pretty pussy. Voljune convulses as another orgasm takes her body. Unable to go any further she tries to convince herself that she can milk another orgasm out of Dio but her body is too tired to and heaving for breath. She smiles along with Jihyo at Dio who’s still hard staring at her magnificent body. Just as she tries to mount another round Jihyo’s phone goes off. Jihyo groaned softly as she looked at her phone, the familiar name lighting up the screen: Dahyun. She glanced over at Diabolos, his presence still filling the room with the lingering intensity of their earlier moment. His body, all burly and imposing, was still poised, but there was something different now. His sharp, almost predatory gaze from earlier had softened considerably. He was smiling at her, but this time, it wasn’t the fierce, consuming look that had sent heat coursing through her veins. Instead, there was a boyish sweetness to his expression—a gentle, almost shy joy that seemed to settle into the lines of his face.

"Hey, Dubu," Jihyo answered, still catching her breath from the earlier tension, "what's going on?"

Dahyun’s bright voice came through the speaker, full of energy as always. "Hey, unnie! DJ, Chewy, and I are going to that restaurant we were talking about—you want to join with Dio?"

Jihyo ran her hand through her hair, eyes drifting back to Diabolos. He was still watching her with that same tempered smile, the type of smile that made her heart squeeze in a completely different way than his fiery, more possessive looks did. It was warm, and content. His energy now was far from the imposing presence he so often carried. He seemed soft, relaxed—almost childlike in his joy like he was perfectly at peace just being here with her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering on the scar that was etched across his chest. It was a stark reminder of the battles he had fought—both the physical ones and the internal wars she could only imagine. And yet, here he was, his fierce nature temporarily melted into something far more innocent, far more gentle.

“We have unfinished business with him,” Voljune’s voice purred in the back of her mind, her presence filled with immense desire. Jihyo could feel the yearning, the deep pull Voljune had towards Diabolos. It mirrored her own, but there was something more primal in Voljune’s desires, something raw that echoed through their shared bond. Jihyo nodded internally, fully aware of what both she and Voljune wanted to resume. But she was also acutely aware that they hadn’t hung out with their members in what felt like forever.

I want this too, Jihyo thought to herself, her eyes flicking back to Diabolos, who was now stretching lazily, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breath catch again. But there was something equally important in reconnecting with her friends. The love she had for her members was a different kind, but no less essential.

"Sure, we'll be there," Jihyo said happily into the phone, and even though Voljune grumbled internally, there was a sense of agreement. There would be time later for their unfinished business.

Diabolos’s inquisitive gaze followed the shift in her mood. His expression was curious as if sensing the subtle tug-of-war happening within her. "What is it, Yo-yo?" he asked, his voice soft and affectionate, using the nickname that always made her smile.

Jihyo’s heart fluttered at his gentle tone. "Well, Chewy, DJ, and Dubu are going to that K-BBQ restaurant we’ve been talking about," she explained, watching his reaction closely.

His face lit up instantly, a look of pure joy and excitement spreading across his features. The fierceness that was always just beneath the surface melted away completely, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. It was such a stark contrast from the Diabolos she had first met—the one who had been all sharp edges and unrelenting intensity. Now, he was like a kid hearing his favorite friends were coming over to play.

“Oh really?” he said, his tone full of that soft, appreciative joy that always made Jihyo’s heart swell. Voljune stirred within her, the feeling of their connection rippling with warmth as they both observed Diabolos’s shift. His excitement wasn’t just for the food—it was the idea of being with people he cared about, being part of something light and easy.

He is so innocent sometimes, Voljune remarked with gentle affection, her usual hunger tempered by a kind of adoration Jihyo hadn’t felt from her before. It was as if the two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—were seeing a side of Diabolos that softened their edges, made them feel as if they, too, were capable of loving in this childlike, almost pure way.

Jihyo giggled softly, both she and Voljune feeling a surge of playful fondness. "Well, we are. They invited us, so let's get clean and get ready."

Diabolos grinned at her, his joy radiating through the room, and without hesitation, he got up to head for the shower. But before he could disappear into the bathroom, Jihyo reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back gently. There was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes now, a smoldering heat that hadn’t fully disappeared despite the shift in mood. She knew that even in these tender, innocent moments, there was always something stronger, more primal beneath the surface between them.

Her gaze locked with his, and she smiled, her voice dropping to a lower, more seductive tone. “We will continue this later,” she promised, her words laced with an unmistakable intensity. Voljune echoed her, their voices harmonizing in unison within her mind, both filled with the same burning desire.

Diabolos’s eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of that familiar fire returning, but he only smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead softly. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmured before slipping away into the bathroom.

Jihyo watched him go, her thoughts still buzzing with the silent conversation she shared with Voljune. The two of them were so aligned in this moment, both feeling the same deep love for the man who had somehow become their everything. Even in the playful, childlike joy that Diabolos exuded, there was a part of them that wanted to protect him fiercely, to hold onto this tenderness they shared and keep it safe from the darkness that often threatened to consume them all.

As the sound of the shower started, Jihyo smiled to herself, knowing that tonight, they would laugh, eat, and share joy with their friends—but later, there would be time for more. Time to continue what had been so deliciously interrupted.

Jihyo stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she heard the soft hum of the shower water in the next room. Her reflection caught the warmth in her eyes, the lingering blush that hadn't quite left her cheeks after her earlier exchange with Diabolos. The excitement of seeing her members—her other family—combined with the quiet thrill of being with Diabolos like this made her feel a warmth deep in her chest.

“He has softened, hasn’t he?” Voljune mused, her voice cutting through Jihyo’s thoughts. “He was once all fire and intensity. But now... look at him. He’s so content with just being here with us, with you.”

Jihyo smiled, nodding as she dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrist. “I’ve noticed,” she replied internally. “It’s like he’s a different person when we’re alone like this. There’s still all that strength, all that power, but it’s so... gentle now.”

“And he’s so in love with you,” Voljune said with a soft chuckle. “It’s adorable. That energy of his used to be so imposing, so aggressive. Now? He just radiates joy when he’s with you, almost like a little kid.”

Jihyo laughed aloud as she glanced back at the closed bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute how he lights up around our friends, too. I think it reminds him of something simpler, something more innocent.” She leaned against the dresser, arms folded, thinking about how Diabolos had changed since they’d started dating. It was as if being around her, and by extension, her members had chipped away at some of the harshnesses he’d built up over the years.

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Diabolos emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, beads of water clinging to his broad shoulders. He was wrapped in a towel, steam trailing behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found Jihyo immediately, softening with that boyish joy she had come to love.

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

“He’s more like us than I ever thought,” Voljune remarked. “That playful love of life, how he cares so deeply for the people around him. It’s different from his old intensity, but it suits him.”

Jihyo nodded, internally agreeing with Voljune’s sentiment. Diabolos had always been strong, and intense, but it was this new side of him—this softer, more open version—that made her fall in love with him even more.

Finally ready, the two of them left the apartment and began their walk to the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with the usual evening energy, the soft hum of cars, and the chatter of people filling the air. Jihyo reached for Diabolos’ hand instinctively, lacing her fingers through his. His hand, though much larger and rougher than hers, fit perfectly, the warmth between them so natural.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will challenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Diabolos glanced down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I’ve missed hanging out with them too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “I like how they make you laugh. You always seem so light and carefree around them.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “They ground you, in a way. It’s good for both of us—being around them. And it’s good for Diabolos, too. They bring out this pure joy in him, something that we both cherish.”

As they walked, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about past moments with the members, and laughing at shared memories. Jihyo and Voljune, internally, marveled at how Diabolos was so effortlessly in sync with them, how his softer side blended perfectly with Jihyo’s energy. Even as they joked and teased, there was an unspoken flirty dialogue weaving between the three of them—a shared connection that needed no words.

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool evening air and each other’s company. As they neared the restaurant, the neon sign glowing in the distance, Jihyo felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. She had her members, her friends, and this man—this man who had become her everything.

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we are.”

Jihyo stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she heard the soft hum of the shower water in the next room. Her reflection caught the warmth in her eyes, the lingering blush that hadn't quite left her cheeks after her earlier exchange with Diabolos. The excitement of seeing her members—her other family—combined with the quiet thrill of being with Diabolos like this made her feel a warmth deep in her chest.

“He has softened, hasn’t he?” Voljune mused, her voice cutting through Jihyo’s thoughts. “He was once all fire and intensity. But now... look at him. He’s so content with just being here with us, with you.”

Jihyo smiled, nodding as she dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrist. “I’ve noticed,” she replied internally. “It’s like he’s a different person when we’re alone like this. There’s still all that strength, all that power, but it’s so... gentle now.”

“And he’s so in love with you,” Voljune said with a soft chuckle. “It’s adorable. That energy of his used to be so imposing, so aggressive. Now? He just radiates joy when he’s with you, almost like a little kid.”

Jihyo laughed aloud as she glanced back at the closed bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute how he lights up around our friends, too. I think it reminds him of something simpler, something more innocent.” She leaned against the dresser, arms folded, thinking about how Diabolos had changed since they’d started dating. It was as if being around her, and by extension, her members had chipped away at some of the harshnesses he’d built up over the years.

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Diabolos emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, beads of water clinging to his broad shoulders. He was wrapped in a towel, steam trailing behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found Jihyo immediately, softening with that boyish joy she had come to love.

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his own skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her own energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

“He’s more like us than I ever thought,” Voljune remarked. “That playful love of life, how he cares so deeply for the people around him. It’s different from his old intensity, but it suits him.”

Jihyo nodded, internally agreeing with Voljune’s sentiment. Diabolos had always been strong, and intense, but it was this new side of him—this softer, more open version—that made her fall in love with him even more.

Finally ready, the two of them left the apartment and began their walk to the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with the usual evening energy, the soft hum of cars, and the chatter of people filling the air. Jihyo reached for Diabolos’ hand instinctively, lacing her fingers through his. His hand, though much larger and rougher than hers, fit perfectly, the warmth between them so natural.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will rechallenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her own cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Diabolos glanced down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I’ve missed hanging out with them too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “I like how they make you laugh. You always seem so light and carefree around them.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “They ground you, in a way. It’s good for both of us—being around them. And it’s good for Diabolos, too. They bring out this pure joy in him, something that we both cherish.”

As they walked, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about past moments with the members, and laughing at shared memories. Jihyo and Voljune, internally, marveled at how Diabolos was so effortlessly in sync with them, how his softer side blended perfectly with Jihyo’s energy. Even as they joked and teased, there was an unspoken flirty dialogue weaving between the three of them—a shared connection that needed no words.

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool evening air and each other’s company. As they neared the restaurant, the neon sign glowing in the distance, Jihyo felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. She had her members, her friends, and this man—this man who had become her everything.

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we really are.”

As the group talks Jihyo begins to feel lightheaded as her hormones start striking again. She looks to Dio and says, “Hey babe I need to go the restroom can you help me,” every people pleaser he follows when Jihyo locks him in and forcefully grabs his cock he understands. Jihyo and Voljune are barely coherent enough to have his dick go in the right hole as Jihyo bends over the sink

“We have to be quick!” Dio asserts

Jihyo nods at her lust-addled brain. Dio quickly rams into her tight hole. Jihyo can only whimper as he takes her. Enraptured by her body he secures a tit and massages it spiking both their pleasure.

At this rate, Jihyo and Voljune don't last long before they cum again. Dio exits her and cleans them up a bit when Jihyo’s mind returns.

Her gaze is possessive as she says, “I'm going to need more from you when we get back home.” Dio smiles as they head back out. The rest of their little date is pretty brief after that. After the date, Jihyo Voljune and Dio were exhausted and instead of counting their fun they got a good night's sleep and hoped to release some more tension tomorrow

It was a rare lazy morning at Jihyo and Diabolos’ small, cozy apartment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. Diabolos was sprawled out on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels while Jihyo leaned against him, scrolling through her phone. Their bodies fit perfectly together as if they were always meant to be in this peaceful bubble.

*“I wish we could stay like this all day,”* Voljune whispered in Jihyo’s mind, the warmth of contentment wrapping around them both. *“No interruptions. Just us.”*

Jihyo couldn’t agree more. After the whirlwind of their dinner last night, she was hoping today could be quiet—a much-needed day of rest with just Diabolos. She smiled as she watched Dio drift in and out of sleep next to her.

But then, the doorbell rang.

Jihyo groaned softly, knowing full well who it could be. Only one person rang the doorbell with such enthusiasm. Voljune sighed in unison with her, a ripple of frustration passing between them. Diabolos glanced down at Jihyo, sensing the shift in energy.

“Who could that be?” he asked, sitting up.

Jihyo gave him a knowing look. “Take a wild guess.”

The doorbell rang again, followed by a series of playful knocks. Diabolos chuckled as he stood, pulling Jihyo up with him. “Let me guess—Nayeon?”

“Yup,” Jihyo replied with an exasperated smile, but there was affection behind it. *“She always knows when to show up at the worst possible time.”*

Voljune huffed in agreement. *“We were supposed to have the day to ourselves.”*

As Jihyo opened the door, she was greeted by a beaming Nayeon and her equally cheerful boyfriend, Mark. Nayeon wasted no time, pushing past Jihyo into the apartment.

“Hey, Jihyo-yah!” Nayeon exclaimed, her voice full of energy. “Mark and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought, why not drop by?” She grinned mischievously. “You weren’t busy, were you?”

Mark offered a sheepish smile from behind her, clearly used to Nayeon’s spontaneous visits. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance. “Well, actually—”

Diabolos, ever the gentle giant, stepped forward and offered a warm smile to the pair. “It’s fine, really. Come on in.”

Jihyo shot him a look that said *Really?* but her irritation quickly faded. Nayeon was already making herself at home, tossing her bag onto the chair and plopping down on the couch next to Diabolos. Mark followed suit, though with a bit more hesitation, clearly aware of the unspoken tension in the room.

Voljune chimed in again, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone. *“You know what? It’s fine. Let’s just let it go. Nayeon brings a certain... chaotic joy, doesn’t she?”*

Jihyo sighed but smiled inwardly. *“Yeah, I guess she does.”* She couldn’t stay mad at Nayeon for long, and besides, her best friend’s presence was infectious. As much as she craved peace, she also loved how Nayeon always brought life and laughter wherever she went.

“So, what are we doing today?” Nayeon asked, completely oblivious to the plans Jihyo and Diabolos may have had. “We should totally have a movie marathon! Or maybe play some games!”

Diabolos chuckled, clearly entertained by Nayeon’s boundless energy. “A movie marathon sounds good to me.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes playfully, giving in to the inevitable. “Alright, fine. But *I* get to pick the first movie.”

Nayeon gasped dramatically. “Jihyo picking the movie? That’s a dangerous game, Dio. She’ll have us watching tearjerkers all day.”

Jihyo swatted at Nayeon’s arm, laughing. “You act like my taste is that bad.”

Mark, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in. “I don’t know, Nayeon. I think Jihyo has pretty good taste. What about a compromise—something everyone can enjoy?”

As they bantered back and forth, Jihyo’s initial frustration melted away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging. This was her family, her people. Nayeon’s chaotic energy, Mark’s calming influence, and Diabolos’ quiet presence all balanced each other out in the best way possible.

*“See?”* Voljune murmured, her earlier frustration now completely gone. *“This is why we love them. It’s never quiet, but it’s always fun.”*

Before Jihyo could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced down at the screen and groaned inwardly.

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered as she saw the group chat light up with notifications from the rest of the members. Dahyun, Mina, Chaeyoung, Sana, and Jeongyeon were all chiming in, asking if they could come over too.

“Oh no,” Jihyo said, eyes widening as she realized what was happening. “Nayeon, did you tell everyone we were hanging out?”

Nayeon shrugged nonchalantly. “I might’ve mentioned it in the group chat...”

Jihyo facepalmed, but she couldn’t help but laugh. *“Well, there goes our quiet day.”*

Diabolos laughed softly, wrapping an arm around Jihyo’s shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s alright. The more, the merrier, right?”

Jihyo leaned into him, smiling despite herself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Within the next hour, the apartment was buzzing with energy. Dahyun showed up with DJ and Tzuyu in tow, carrying bags of snacks and drinks. Jeongyeon arrived with a mischievous grin, already scheming some sort of prank with Dahyun. Sana arrived latched to Broly’s hip with her trademark bubbly personality and champagne. Momo brought Daizohan. Chaeyoung and Mina were the last to arrive, holding hands and giggling like they were in on a secret as their boyfriends followed behind with quiet appreciative smiles.

As the apartment filled with laughter, conversation, and the smells of takeout, Jihyo looked around at her members, their partners, and Diabolos beside her, her heart swelling with warmth.

*“It’s chaotic,”* Voljune said softly, her tone full of affection. *“But it’s our chaos.”*

Jihyo nodded internally. *“Yeah. It really is.”*

Diabolos wrapped his arm around Jihyo to ground himself.

“Is someone anxious?” Jihyo asked as she looked up at her boyfriend.

Diabolos smiled as he looked down at her before kissing her forehead, “not anymore,”

Despite the unexpected visit and the way the day had spiraled into a full-on party, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life she had built with Diabolos, her members, and her extended family. They were loud, spontaneous, and a little over the top, but she wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

Diabolos caught her eye, giving her a soft, knowing smile. Without words, they shared a moment of quiet understanding amid the noise and laughter.

It was perfect, just the way it was.

As the evening wore on, the apartment buzzed with conversations in different corners, and everyone relaxed and enjoyed the impromptu gathering. Jihyo found herself sitting on the couch with Mina, Diabolos, and Mina’s boyfriend, Richter, a soft-spoken but kind-hearted man who had a natural talent for blending into the group despite being relatively new to their circle.

The four of them were speaking English, a comfortable language for Mina and Richter, and something Diabolos seemed to switch into effortlessly. Jihyo was doing her best to keep up, her English was solid but slower as she worked through her sentences. Diabolos, on the other hand, spoke it fluently, though there was a noticeable difference in the way he sounded compared to Richter.

Mina tilted her head, her curiosity piqued by the way Diabolos' voice carried through the conversation. “Dio, your English... it sounds so different. It’s not like the Americans I know.”

Richter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Most Americans have a more nasal, higher tone, but you… yours is deeper. Almost throaty.”

Diabolos chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in that low, gravelly way. “I guess I’ve always sounded like this. Not much I can do about it.”

Mina squinted playfully at him and then laughed. “You sound like a bear! So gruff and deep. It’s like your voice comes from the earth, not your throat.” she said as she made herself appear bigger as if mimicking a bear.

The joke caught everyone by surprise, and Jihyo laughed along with them, but as Mina’s words sank in, they triggered something deep inside her, something Voljune had been quietly holding back.

Suddenly, the room around her seemed to blur and shift. Jihyo’s heart skipped a beat as a flood of memories—not hers, but Voljune’s—rushed into her mind. She was pulled back into the past, to a moment long before she had ever met Diabolos.

In the memory, Jihyo (or rather, Voljune) was flying through space in a small, dimly lit ship. The atmosphere was tense, thick with uncertainty and dread. Diabolos sat in the co-pilot seat beside her, silent, his face pale and drawn. He hadn’t spoken since the Severing. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but his eyes were far away, distant. There was an overwhelming heaviness in the air—Voljune could feel it even now through Jihyo’s senses.

She looked over at him, at the man who had survived the impossible, who had endured Narset’s brutal Severing. His face was etched with pain, and yet, he was alive. But something was different, something was lost. His voice, when he spoke, had changed. The man she had once known had been replaced by someone else—someone quieter, sadder.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.

“Thank you... for saving me.” His voice was rough, deeper than it had been before. It came from somewhere deep within him as if it had been dragged from the depths of his soul. And the pain in his eyes, that raw, untouchable hurt—it cut Voljune to the core.

At that moment, she realized just how much Diabolos had lost. Not just his voice, but a part of himself. He was no longer the same person she had known before. And neither was she.

The memory faded, and Jihyo blinked back to the present, the warmth of the apartment and the laughter of her friends washing over her like a wave. But the echo of that memory lingered in her chest, heavy and heart-wrenching. Unconsciously, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Diabolos, who had been quietly watching her, noticed immediately. His expression softened as he reached over, gently wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered his voice that same deep, gravelly tone that both Jihyo and Voljune had come to love. “It will be okay.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled as she looked into his eyes, and for a moment, the line between past and present blurred. Voljune’s memories, the weight of their shared experiences, and the love they both had for this man—they all converged into one undeniable truth.

*He survived. And he’s still here.*

She smiled up at him, the tear already forgotten as she leaned into his warmth. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

Voljune, too, stirred gently within her, no longer holding onto the pain of that memory, but instead embracing the comfort of the present. The two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—felt a deep sense of peace at that moment. They had each other, they had Diabolos, and they had their friends.

As the conversation around them resumed, the three of them—Jihyo, Voljune, and Diabolos—shared a quiet, unspoken connection, one built on love, resilience, and an understanding that ran far deeper than words.

As the party wore on fatigue and yawns spread through the group like a plague, but Nayeon in her foresight said, “Sleepover!” Jihyo sighed but Dio relented as the rest of the girls quickly all agreed. She went to her car and pulled out all the matching pajamas she had bought. Everyone laughed except Dio as he began to notice cracks in her smile.

As the party began to wind down, laughter and conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Dio, always quietly observant, noticed Nayeon slipping away from the group, her usual sparkle dimmed by something only he seemed to notice. Jihyo, ever in tune with him, followed his gaze. Standing beside her, Mark also noticed, shifting uncomfortably. But Jihyo placed a gentle hand on his arm, smiling warmly.

“Dio’s got this,” she reassured him. “Let’s give them some space.”

Mark glanced at Dio, who was already making his way toward Nayeon with the quiet, steady calm that had become second nature to him. There was a strength in Dio that wasn’t about physical power, though it was easy to mistake it for that at first. It was in the way he carried himself, a quiet presence that made people feel safe like they could lean on him without being judged.

Dio found Nayeon sitting in a quieter corner of the apartment, staring off into space, her shoulders slightly hunched as if weighed down by unseen thoughts. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her, and gently tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, Nay,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth and care. “Is everything alright?”

Nayeon turned, her face breaking into a forced smile, though the tightness around her eyes betrayed her. She was trying so hard to appear fine, to keep up her strong facade, but Dio could see through it.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” she replied, too quickly, her tone guarded. “Why do you ask?”

Dio studied her for a moment, his eyes kind and patient. He wasn’t the type to push people to share what they weren’t ready to, but his mere presence often encouraged others to open up. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to pressure her.

“It’s nothing,” he said softly, with a reassuring smile. “Just checking in.”

Then, without hesitation, he enveloped her in a gentle hug. Nayeon froze for a second, her defenses wavering, before she finally let out a shaky breath. In his arms, she felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the sense that she didn’t have to carry everything on her own. That was what Dio did—he made you feel safe like your burdens were shared, even if only for a moment.

And that’s when Nayeon broke. Her walls came tumbling down, and she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as her tears spilled over.

“I’m so scared, Dio,” she sobbed. “What if… what if Twice isn’t forever? What if ten years is it? What if… we don’t last?”

From her vantage point, Jihyo smiled gently as she watched Dio comfort Nayeon. She had been in that exact position many times herself, seeking solace in Dio’s quiet strength. There was something about him that made her feel seen and understood in a way no one else could quite match. She turned to Mark, who looked like he wanted to rush over and comfort Nayeon himself, but Jihyo shook her head slightly, her eyes twinkling with reassurance.

“He’s got this,” she whispered, and Mark nodded, settling back.

Out on the balcony, away from prying eyes, Dio led Nayeon to a chair and sat beside her, still holding her hand as she sniffled and wiped her tears. The cool night air helped to calm her, but it was Dio’s steady presence that truly soothed her frayed nerves.

“Twice is already forever,” Dio said, his voice calm but certain.

Nayeon looked up at him, confused and still wiping away tears. “What do you mean?”

Dio leaned back, gazing up at the night sky. “The legacy you’ve built—the hearts you’ve all touched—it’s something that goes beyond this moment, beyond this year, or the next. It’s already part of something bigger.”

Nayeon blinked, trying to process his words, but Dio wasn’t just being philosophical. He knew, better than anyone, how far their impact truly reached. There were worlds, literal worlds, far from Earth where Twice’s music had found its way, where “One” gathered and celebrated the group that had become a universal symbol of love and hope.

“As long as there are stars in the sky, there will always be Once. And as long as there’s Once, there will always be Twice,” he continued, his voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the group—whether you’re on stage together or not. That love, that connection, will last no matter what. You’ve already created something eternal.”

Nayeon’s tears slowed, his words sinking in as a warm sense of comfort filled her. She smiled, a little watery still, but the fear that had gripped her heart began to ease.

“So… you’re saying we’ve already won?” she asked softly, a bit of her usual sass creeping back into her tone.

Dio chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “Yeah, you’ve already won. No matter what comes next.”

Nayeon sniffled again, this time out of relief, and wiped her eyes. “When did you get so soft-hearted?”

Dio shrugged with a playful grin. “I always was.”

Nayeon laughed, a real laugh this time, and the sound filled Dio with quiet satisfaction. Jihyo had told him once that Nayeon needed these moments of reassurance, to feel grounded when her insecurities flared up. And he had learned, from his own pain and struggles, how important it was to remind others of their worth, their impact.

From the balcony, Dio and Nayeon could hear the soft hum of the party continuing inside, but for this moment, it was just the two of them and the silent assurance that everything would be okay.

As they walked back inside, Nayeon shivered in the cool night air. Jihyo’s smile lingered as they rejoined the party, but something stirred within her. The room seemed to shift, subtly at first, as if the air grew thicker, heavier. Then, the sensation deepened, and she felt a pull—Voljune’s presence awakening inside her, memories unfurling like a delicate, intricate web. Her vision blurred slightly, and suddenly, she was no longer in the present.

The scene around her morphed, transporting her into a memory not her own.

---

It was a long time ago, in a strange, desolate place. Voljune's memory opened up fully before Jihyo’s eyes. She saw the room—sterile, cold, and dimly lit. In the center of it stood Diabolos. He was younger then, though not by much, but there was something raw about him, something unrefined. His tall frame looked tense, ready for a fight, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. Beneath the hardness, Jihyo could see it: a quiet vulnerability, a softness that hadn't yet been buried by the years of torment to come.

Voljune had been wary, uncertain. It was her first time seeing him, sensing him. She could feel the power coursing through his veins, but it was more than that. There was something about the way he carried himself, something that spoke not of violence, but of care. He had been thrown into an impossible situation, and yet, his gaze wasn’t hostile. It was searching.

Their eyes met. He had been expecting another enemy. Instead, Voljune felt the unfamiliar sensation of calm, of warmth. Diabolos, though prepared for battle, didn’t strike. He merely stood there, waiting, observing.

“What are you?” his voice was soft, far softer than it should have been for a man of his size. The tone startled Voljune—gentle, almost questioning. It wasn’t the voice of a hardened warrior, but someone seeking to understand.

Voljune hesitated, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t expected this. She had expected brutality, cold calculation. But instead, she saw in Diabolos a strange, disarming kindness that caught her off guard. He wasn’t the monster she had anticipated.

“I’m here to observe,” Voljune had said, her voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Observe?” Diabolos repeated, tilting his head slightly. There was a softness in his eyes now, a flicker of something almost childlike. “What do you want from me?”

That was the first time Voljune had felt it—his compassion. Even then, even in that strange, cold room, Diabolos had carried with him a heart that sought connection. His strength hadn’t been forged in cruelty or dominance but in a quiet, determined desire to protect.

Jihyo could feel the memory washing over her, flooding her with an understanding she hadn’t grasped before. The Diabolos standing before Voljune back then was the same man she knew now. The quiet protector. The gentle giant. He had always been like this, even when the world had tried to harden him.

And then the memory shifted. Jihyo felt it—Voljune’s rising feelings, the moment she began to realize that Diabolos wasn’t just another force of power to contend with. He was something different, something good. She had been drawn to him then, not because of his strength, but because of his heart.

---

The memory faded slowly, and Jihyo found herself back in the present, standing in the middle of the apartment as the party hummed softly around her. She blinked, trying to shake off the vividness of the past. It had been so real, so tangible.

Voljune stirred inside her, an odd sense of apology coming through.

“I’m sorry,” Voljune said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to subject you to all of that. My memories... they can be overwhelming.”

Jihyo smiled softly, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “It’s okay. It helps me know our boyfriend better,” she replied, her tone full of warmth and affection. There was no resentment in her voice, no frustration. Only a deep understanding of who Diabolos truly was, both in the past and now.

Before she could say more, she felt a familiar warmth behind her. Dio had approached quietly, his arms wrapping gently around her waist as he pulled her close. His presence was grounding, his embrace filled with the same tenderness she had seen in that memory.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered softly in her ear, sensing the lingering emotions. “It’ll be okay.”

Jihyo leaned back into him, feeling his strength, but more importantly, feeling his love. They stood there for a moment, enveloped in each other’s warmth, connected not only by the present but by the shared understanding of who they had always been to one another. Eventually, the warmth flooded Jihyo’s core and she turned to Dio. “You my bedroom now,” she whispered.

- - -

Diabolos stood stone-faced as his mind fogged over, the world around him blurring into a distant hum. He could feel it creeping in—the familiar dissonance, the numbness that had plagued him ever since the Severing. A small part of him, the part that Narset had ripped away, left a scar deeper than the physical wound. Sometimes, it felt like a piece of him was still wandering, aimless, and disembodied, an echo of Ruhan’s presence within him. He shuddered.

It wasn’t just a memory, though. There were moments—fleeting, but unbearable—where he could still feel Ruhan beneath the surface, like a parasite never fully exorcised. A phantom, mocking and ever-present, digging into the darkest corners of his mind. He hated it, hated that there was a part of him that could never truly belong to him again. No matter how hard he tried, there was always something lingering, denigrating his thoughts, whispering things he’d rather forget.

Diabolos sighed, trying to shake the weight off his chest, but it clung to him. Then there was a knock. It startled him out of his trance, and he turned around, his brow furrowing as he crossed the room.

When he opened the door, Jiwoo stood there, her expression unreadable. "Hi, Dio," she said softly, “I needed to drop something off.”

Dio blinked, still disoriented from the fog in his mind. “Okay... what is it?”

Without warning, Jiwoo leaned in and kissed him. The suddenness of it jolted Dio, but before he could push her away, a sensation he dreaded washed over him—Ruhan.

For a split second, it was as though something foreign slipped through the kiss, like an invisible thread snaking its way into his body, reigniting the bond he thought he’d broken. His revulsion turned to horror, and his stomach churned as his body reacted, his muscles tensing. He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles whitened. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as he felt the ghost of Ruhan inside him, like a twisted form of possession.

Jiwoo stepped back, confused by his sudden change. “Dio, are you okay?”

He doubled over, struggling to suppress the invasion. His breath came in ragged gasps, and though Jiwoo reached out to help him, he waved her off. “Thanks, Ji. I’m fine. Just... have a good day.”

His voice was strained, but calm enough to keep her from asking questions. She lingered for a moment, her brow furrowed, but then she nodded and left, glancing back over her shoulder with uncertainty.

As soon as she was gone, Dio moved with purpose, heading straight to the mirror in his room. The moment his eyes met his reflection, he saw it.

Ruhan.

There, staring back at him, a twisted version of himself in the glass. Ruhan’s presence wasn’t fully corporeal, but it was unmistakable—his mocking smirk, his cold, calculating gaze. The parasitic twin who’d always reveled in his chaos.

"Hello, Dio," Ruhan greeted, his voice echoing through Dio’s mind as though it came from within the mirror itself. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was a darkness to it that Dio couldn’t ignore.

Dio’s eyes narrowed. His reflection glared back at him, the intensity in his gaze betraying the flood of emotions churning beneath the surface. "I should expel you right here, right now," he said coldly, the anger barely masked.

Ruhan’s smirk grew wider, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Please," he drawled, "you act like this is pleasant for me. You think I wanted to be back inside you? Trust me, Dio, if I had other options, I’d take them. But I need your help."

Dio’s jaw clenched, and his knuckles pressed against the edge of the mirror, the glass cool beneath his fingertips. "Why should I help you? After everything you’ve done—everything you took from me. You think I’ve forgotten?"

Ruhan's smile faltered, his expression hardening for just a moment before he composed himself. "I’m not asking you to forget," he said evenly, "I’m asking you to survive."

Dio’s body tensed, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. "Survive?" he repeated, incredulity lacing his words. "I’ve done that just fine without you."

"Have you?" Ruhan raised a brow, the weight of his presence pressing down on Dio like a heavy fog. "Tell me, how often do you wake up, the fog clouding your thoughts? How often do you feel the emptiness, the part of yourself that was stolen away?"

Dio’s glare sharpened, but Ruhan’s words had struck a nerve. He hated it, hated the truth in them. He could never be whole again, not without the part that had been severed. He could deny it all he wanted, but some nights, the absence was unbearable.

"You don’t need me," Ruhan continued, "but I need you. Orochi has returned."

Dio froze. The name hung in the air like a death sentence.

"Why should I care?" Dio finally asked, though his tone had shifted. His anger was still there, but the uncertainty was creeping in. "After everything, why should I help you—especially you?"

"Because," Ruhan said, his smirk gone now, replaced by something darker, more serious, "Orochi’s return doesn’t just mean trouble for me. It means trouble for you. For Jihyo. For every one you care about."

Dio's hands clenched against the mirror, the glass threatening to crack under the pressure. He wanted to reject it, to reject everything about Ruhan’s presence, but deep down, he knew the truth. This wasn’t just about Ruhan. It was about the bigger picture, the looming threat that had reared its head once again.

"And don’t worry," Ruhan added, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I have no intention of severing you. I need your continued existence... for now."

Dio hesitated, his mind racing. He hated this. He hated the idea of working with the very thing that had destroyed him. But he knew better than to ignore the warnings.

"Fine," Dio said through gritted teeth, his fists unclenching as he let out a slow, controlled breath. "But after this... after Orochi, you leave. And you never come back."

Ruhan’s reflection gave a slow nod, though Dio could sense the amusement underneath. "As you wish," he said, though his smile didn’t fade.

Duo turned away from the mirror, the weight of what had just transpired settling heavily in his chest. The phantom presence of Ruhan still lingered, curling like smoke beneath his skin, making his body feel alien. The room seemed to tilt as his mind fogged over again. There was a plan—a necessary evil—but it still sickened him.

Steeling himself, Dio walked outside just as Jihyo arrived back at their apartment. She was still wearing her radiant smile, her energy as bright as the sun, but the moment her eyes met his, that joy evaporated. A strange, unsettling tension filled the air.

Voljune surged within her, alert and bristling.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layering over each other with venom.

Dio—no, Ruhan—smirked in response, tilting his head slightly. "Ah, sister..." His voice was Dio’s, but it was off as if something deep within had shifted and was no longer aligned. There was a dissonance in his tone, a foreign rhythm. "Please forgive me, but I need to borrow Dio for the time being."

Jihyo flinched at the sound of his words, the way Ruhan twisted Dio's familiar voice into something uncanny. It was like hearing a favorite song distorted, played backward with the melody shattered. Her eyes narrowed as she felt Voljune stir inside her, recognizing the presence of her twin.

Ruhan.

It was impossible to ignore. Dio's usually calm and collected demeanor had been warped, replaced by something darker, more assertive. Even his posture had changed—the easy confidence that Jihyo loved was now edged with an eerie control. She could feel Dio fighting beneath the surface, locked somewhere deep inside himself.

Within Dio's mind, he remained silent, holding firm. Ruhan had pried into his body, but Dio was prepared. He guarded his most vital memories, locking them behind mental barriers. He had learned how Ruhan operated during their previous encounters, and he wouldn't allow the parasite to fully take over again. Still, Dio felt the pull, the struggle to maintain himself as Ruhan exerted more control over his body.

"I know what you're planning, Ruhan," Dio's voice echoed internally. "But I won’t let you sever me again."

Ruhan, nestled inside him, chuckled softly. "Such mistrust... I told you, Dio, I need you alive. Severing you again would be counterproductive to my goals. Besides, Narset—she would never forgive me."

Dio’s heart clenched at the mention of Narset. His mind flickered back to her, and he couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to Narset?"

Ruhan’s laughter died down, his tone shifting to something softer—almost regretful. "She is safe, locked away in a cell where she can't cause any more damage. But she misses you, Dio. She regrets involving you in this mess. She’s sorry for everything."

The remorse in Ruhan's voice was genuine, but Dio didn't trust it. Not entirely. Yet the mention of Narset stirred something in him—a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for so long. He couldn't help but picture her, locked away, her sorrow weighing heavily on her. Still, he couldn't let Ruhan manipulate him.

Meanwhile, Jihyo watched as Dio’s expression flickered with tension. Her instincts screamed at her—Voljune’s energy inside her bristled with fury, ready to confront her twin, but Jihyo held back. She had to tread carefully.

"Dio," she said softly, her voice cutting through the space between them, hoping to reach him. "I know you're still in there."

Ruhan's smirk faltered slightly, but he maintained his control, tilting his head as if amused. "Dio is here, sister, but he is not in control at the moment."

Voljune seethed within her. "Ruhan, I swear, if you hurt him—"

Ruhan's voice came out with a mocking edge. "Hurt him? Why would I? He is valuable to me. I am only borrowing what I need, for the time being."

Jihyo’s heart pounded. She could feel Voljune’s fury building, but she kept her gaze steady, refusing to let Ruhan see any fear. "You don't get to take him, Ruhan. We won’t let you."

Ruhan’s eyes gleamed with something darker. "You act like you have a choice, sister."

Inside, Dio’s thoughts churned, but he remained silent, calculating. He knew Ruhan's power well enough by now and knew what it took to survive against him. But he couldn’t deny the strange truth beneath the surface—Ruhan needed him. There was a twisted logic there, and Dio had to play along, at least for now.

Jihyo took a deep breath, steadying herself as Voljune rallied inside her. Her connection with Dio, though strained by Ruhan's presence, still pulsed with life. And as she held onto that, she refused to let go.

"We'll get you back," Jihyo whispered, more to Dio than to Ruhan, her voice resolute.

Ruhan, still possessing Dio’s body, simply chuckled. "We'll see, sister. We shall see."

As the tension thickened between them, Jihyo felt Voljune’s resolve growing stronger inside her. No matter what it took, she and Dio would face this together—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of themselves.

Dio—no, Ruhan—stood in front of Jihyo with a smirk that was both foreign and unsettling. The familiar warmth and softness she always saw in Dio’s eyes were buried beneath a cold, mocking glint that belonged only to Ruhan. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest, Voljune simmering beneath her skin with rage.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layered with venom, their connection flaring as one.

Ruhan's lips curled into an amused smile. "Ah, sister... Voljune, how you’ve matured. But still so predictable. And you, Jihyo—Dio’s precious little companion. How quaint. But you must know, I’m only borrowing him for a while."

Jihyo's hand clenched at her side, her gaze sharp, but her emotions were a storm beneath the surface. She had learned, thanks to Dio, how to control that storm—to stay calm when faced with something as manipulative as Ruhan. But it wasn’t easy. She could feel Dio trapped somewhere deep inside, struggling, his presence flickering like a distant candle in a storm.

Ruhan took a step closer, tilting his head with a bemused expression. "I’ve always wondered... What do you see in him? Dio, I mean. What draws you to such a... subpar vessel?"

Jihyo’s brow furrowed, a flare of anger igniting in her chest. Voljune, ever in sync with her, pulsed within her consciousness, pushing against the boundaries of her control. Jihyo could feel the heat of her twin's rage, the ancient fury simmering just beneath her skin.

"You’re wrong about him," Jihyo said through clenched teeth. "Dio is more than you could ever understand."

Ruhan chuckled, the sound cold and dismissive. "More? Perhaps. But from where I stand, he is little more than a broken tool—a shattered relic of what he once was." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Still, you’ve attached yourself to him, haven’t you, sister? Why?"

Jihyo held her ground, her eyes fierce as she met his gaze. "Because he’s more than just a vessel. He’s a person, Ruhan. He has a heart, a soul, things you can’t comprehend."

Ruhan narrowed his eyes, his smirk fading into something more calculating. "A heart, a soul..." His voice trailed off, almost bored. "How sentimental. I suppose that’s why you two are so... compatible." He gestured toward Jihyo and Voljune with a flick of Dio's hand. "Your bond is fascinating. Almost perfect synchronization. It’s admirable, truly. If only your dear Diabolos had that same potential."

Jihyo felt a ripple of indignation, her blood boiling as Voljune surged within her. She could feel her twin’s ancient power coiling and ready, her rage almost spilling over.

"We’re not perfect," Jihyo said, her voice calm but edged with steel. "But we don’t need to be. What we have is enough."

Ruhan’s eyes glinted with mock interest as he looked at her, his smirk returning. "Enough, you say? Hmm." He tilted his head as if considering her words. "What I see, sister, is wasted potential. You and Voljune are almost perfectly in sync—an extraordinary bond, truly. I can’t help but wonder... why lower yourself to Diabolos’s level?"

Jihyo flinched, feeling the sting of his words, but she stood firm. "You wouldn’t understand. It’s not about power, or strength, or even perfection. Dio and I... we complement each other. We make each other better, and stronger. You think he’s broken, but I see someone who’s survived the impossible. Someone who’s still kind, still loving, despite everything."

Ruhan let out a low laugh, his voice a dark hum of amusement. "Oh, sister, your sentimentality is charming, I’ll give you that. But you’re wrong if you think Diabolos is anything more than a tool. He’s a means to an end. He always has been."

Jihyo’s heart ached at Ruhan's dismissive tone. She could feel Dio’s presence, small but resilient, fighting beneath the surface. Voljune, too, bristled with anger, her twin’s energy surging through her like an electric current.

"Voljune," Ruhan said, his tone now more focused on his twin. "You’re stronger now. I can feel it. But you still tether yourself to this... human." He spat the last word with disdain. "Why?"

Voljune surged forward, pushing against the edges of Jihyo's consciousness as if she were about to burst free. "Because Dio is ours," Voljune growled through Jihyo's voice, their bond radiating through every word. "He’s not a vessel for you to control. He’s more than you could ever be, Ruhan. He’s better than you."

Ruhan's eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sinister. "Better than me? Oh, sister... you really are delusional. But I’ll let you cling to your fantasies, for now. I have no intention of severing Dio—at least, not yet. There are... greater things at play."

Jihyo’s breath hitched, her mind swirling as she tried to keep her focus. But Voljune’s words rang true inside her—Dio was theirs, and she wouldn’t let Ruhan take him away.

"You think you can control everything, Ruhan," Jihyo said, her voice soft but filled with determination. "But you can’t. Dio’s not going to be your puppet. He’s stronger than you think."

Ruhan looked at her with a sneer, but his amusement lingered. "We shall see, sister. We shall see."

And with that, Jihyo felt Dio's presence flicker, as if fighting its way back to the surface. The shift in control was subtle, but she could sense it. Dio was still there, and he wasn't giving up.

As if sensing Jihyo’s unwavering resolve, Ruhan’s voice faded, leaving her with a parting thought. "Just remember, Jihyo. As synchronized as you and Voljune may be, Dio will always be one step behind. He’s never going to be what you need him to be."

Jihyo shook her head, feeling the warmth of Dio’s presence growing stronger beneath Ruhan’s shadow. "You don’t know him like I do."

A moment of silence followed, and then, as if in response, Dio’s familiar warmth returned—faint but present. The soft, gentle presence that Jihyo had come to love.

Suddenly, she felt Dio’s arms wrap around her from behind, his embrace firm and comforting. "Don’t listen to him," Dio whispered softly into her ear. "We’ve got this."

Jihyo relaxed into his touch, Voljune settling inside her. Ruhan’s words still echoed in her mind, but with Dio’s warmth enveloping her, she knew they could face whatever was coming—together.

Ruhan stretched, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to the sensation of being in control of Dio’s body once again. It was almost amusing—how he could manipulate the physical form of his “vessel,” a body that had once been so imposing and powerful. But now, something simpler tugged at him, a small indulgence Dio had held onto. The refrigerator hummed softly in the quiet of the apartment as Ruhan pulled open the door, revealing Dio’s stash of treats.

Voljune stirred inside Jihyo, her presence shifting slightly as they both observed from the edges of Rohan’s awareness. They could feel it—the change in energy, the way Dio’s body seemed to react to Ruhan in ways only they could see.

“He’s indulging,” Voljune noted with a hint of surprise in her voice. “Not in power or conquest—but in something so... mundane.”

Jihyo watched with narrowed eyes as Ruhan plucked a milkshake from the fridge and studied it with mild curiosity. She had seen Dio savor these moments before—these small, personal joys that grounded him in ways Ruhan would never understand. As Ruhan took a slow, almost hesitant sip, Jihyo felt a ripple of Dio’s presence beneath the surface, faint but still there.

Voljune hummed thoughtfully. “He is more in touch with Diabolos than he realizes,” she observed. “Even now, he feels the connection to the vessel. He may not admit it, but Dio’s essence... still lingers.”

Jihyo’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Dio would appreciate the irony,” she murmured. “Ruhan, this cold and calculating being, indulging in something as simple as a milkshake.”

Ruhan, oblivious to their presence, sighed as he took another sip, his body visibly relaxing. There was something almost humorous about watching this ancient, powerful entity indulging in mortal pleasures. Voljune and Jihyo could feel the faint echoes of satisfaction that trickled through Dio’s consciousness—a simple joy in the taste, the texture, the momentary comfort.

“What does he get out of this?” Jihyo wondered aloud, her eyes focused on Rohan’s every movement.

Voljune’s voice grew softer, more contemplative. “Perhaps he misses it,” she mused. “The experience of life. Even the small things. After all, what use is power if you can’t enjoy the sensations of the world?”

Ruhan’s focus shifted to a bag of burgers sitting on the counter. He unwrapped one with an almost theatrical gesture, biting into it with a low groan of satisfaction. Jihyo watched, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement, as Ruhan seemed to savor the taste more than she expected.

“He’s starting to appreciate it,” Voljune observed. “Even if he won’t admit it.”

Jihyo’s mind wandered to Dio—how he would smile so brightly whenever they would grab a quick burger or share a sweet treat. The contrast between Ruhan’s mechanical indulgence and Dio’s simple joy couldn’t be starker, but for a fleeting moment, Jihyo saw something else in Ruhan—a faint echo of what had been taken from him.

“He doesn’t understand it,” Jihyo whispered. “But he’s feeling it.”

Voljune’s voice deepened. “Ruhan is experiencing a part of Dio’s essence that he would never admit to craving. The sensations. The pleasures. The simplicity of being human.”

Ruhan finished the burger with a contented sigh, tossing the wrapper into the trash. He leaned back against the counter, letting the moment settle over him like a blanket of warmth. His eyes glinted as he gazed out at the balcony, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For all his power,” Voljune mused, “Ruhan envies this—the mortal pleasures, the joy of living in the present. He envies Diabolos.”

Jihyo blinked, surprised at the thought. “Envy?”

Voljune’s presence swirled inside her. “Yes. For all Ruhan’s power and domination, he lacks the ability to truly enjoy the world. Diabolos can. That’s why he clings to these indulgences.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, watching as Ruhan ran a hand through Dio’s hair. The casual gesture, the ease with which he moved—there was something almost human about it. But the unsettling truth remained: it wasn’t Dio. Not fully.

“You mortals and your food,” Ruhan muttered to himself. “This is the only thing I might actually miss.”

Jihyo’s jaw tightened. Even now, Ruhan couldn’t fully admit it—couldn’t admit that he was starting to understand, even in the smallest ways, why Dio found joy in these moments. But there was something undeniable about the way Dio’s body reacted to it—the way it softened, relaxed, and surrendered to the sensations.

Ruhan turned toward the balcony, his gaze shifting to the sky. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts,” he said, speaking to Dio as though the man was still present. “Once this is done, you can have your body back. But until then... you’re mine.”

Voljune’s presence stirred within Jihyo, her thoughts intertwined with her host’s. “What does he think he’s gaining from all this?” Voljune asked quietly.

Jihyo tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied Rohan’s every move. “He’s trying to understand it,” she murmured. “Even if he doesn’t realize it, he’s trying to connect with what makes Dio who he is.”

Voljune’s voice softened with a quiet understanding. “And he never will,” she whispered. “Because he can’t see what we see.”

Jihyo’s heart ached with the truth of those words. Ruhan might indulge in Dio’s pleasures, but he would never grasp the depth of Dio’s heart—the way he cared for those around him, the way he found joy in the smallest things. That was something Ruhan could never take.

As Ruhan stood there, gazing out at the city lights, Jihyo and Voljune exchanged a glance. They knew Dio was still there, locked away but present, waiting for the moment to reclaim what was his.

Voljune’s voice was barely a whisper now. “He doesn’t understand the strength that comes from living through the heart.”

Jihyo nodded. “No. And he never will.”

And with that, they watched, knowing that, no matter how long Ruhan stayed in control, Dio’s essence would remain—quiet but unbroken, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Dio’s mind flickered back to a time when his life had been a haze, trapped between pain and recovery, long before he’d set foot back on Earth. He remembered the distant planet—far on the edge of the universe, a place unlike anything he had encountered before or since.

It had been barren at first glance, a rocky wasteland stretching out toward the horizon with nothing but dust and jagged mountains. But beneath the surface, in hidden sanctuaries carved into the mountains themselves, lived a race of beings unlike any other. These creatures stood eight feet tall, their skin a muted gray, a perfect blend of earth and stone. Their bodies radiated strength, and their eyes glowed faintly with the energy of untapped power. Yet, there was no violence in them, no hunger for conquest or destruction, which caught Dio off guard.

The moment he crashed on their planet, broken and fragmented after being severed, he expected to be greeted by warriors—beings who might challenge his will or force him to fight for his survival. But instead, these giants, their voices deep and resonant, moved with an unexpected gentleness. Their hands, rough from battle and labor, tended to his wounds. They carried him to one of their great sanctuaries, a structure hewn from the mountains, where the hum of ancient power vibrated through the air. The energy was palpable, yet somehow, it was contained, controlled, and peaceful.

They called themselves the Ky’Rans, and despite their imposing stature and strength, they lived lives of quiet isolation, far from the reaches of ruin and conquest. The more time Diabolos spent with them, the more they revealed their history—stories of a people who had once been conquerors, feared across the galaxy for their might. But after centuries of war, something changed in them. They turned their backs on the destruction they had wrought, and instead of ruling through power, they chose peace.

Their culture revolved around balance and restraint. They no longer saw strength purely in the ability to conquer but in the preservation of what was precious. They believed that peace, true peace, required more strength than any battle. Their teachings baffled Diabolos at first, their ways alien to everything he had known.

During his stay, they showed him how they preserved their world—both physically and spiritually. They honed their bodies through labor, not combat, maintaining harmony with their environment rather than seeking to dominate it. Dio, as broken as he had been, found it hard to argue with the results. Their world thrived with lush, untouched forests hidden between the harsh rockscapes. Their people lived long, content lives, untouched by the brutal cycle of revenge and violence.

"You are strong," one of the elders had told him one day as they walked along the cliffs overlooking the vast landscape. "But strength is not just in what you can break. It is in what you choose to protect."

Diabolos had stared out at the expanse, pondering those words. It was an idea foreign to him—he had always believed strength was defined by overcoming challenges, by fighting back, by taking power into his hands. But here, the Ky’Rans thrived without that hunger, without needing to exert their dominance.

"Revenge," the elder had continued, "is like a treadmill—you run and run, but never get anywhere. The faster you chase it, the more you realize how empty it is."

Diabolos knew, deep down, that there was truth in those words. The Ky’Rans had helped him heal, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. In their quiet sanctuaries, he had found peace for the first time in his life. It wasn’t the same kind of peace he had been taught to seek—the peace after victory, after battle, after silencing one’s enemies—but a peace that came from within.

And yet, as much as he respected their ways, Diabolos couldn't fully embrace their ideology. He understood their philosophy, but peace, to him, wasn’t the ultimate goal. He knew he couldn’t walk their path, as noble as it was. He still felt the pull of something more—a need to confront his past, to face the battles waiting for him on Earth.

His time with them had given him clarity and strength, but it also showed him that his journey wasn’t done. There were still forces at play—forces that would come for him and those he cared about, no matter how much peace he sought. The Ky’Rans might have conquered their inner demons, but Diabolos had a different fate awaiting him.

And so, one day, he left.

As he stepped aboard a ship they had helped him repair, he looked back at the towering figures that had nurtured him back to health. Their expressions were solemn but understanding. They knew he wouldn’t stay.

"Strength," the elder had said in parting, "is in knowing when to fight and when to walk away."

Diabolos nodded, but he had no words to offer. He couldn’t explain it—not then, at least—but he knew his battles were far from over.

Returning to Earth felt like waking from a long dream. He had been restored and renewed by his time with the Ky’Rans, but he didn’t feel at peace. That wasn’t his path. Peace, for him, was something that had to be earned—not by walking away, but by facing the storms that came his way.

Back in the present, Diabolos blinked as his memories faded, his mind drifting back to his body. he got up showered and got ready for his upcoming battle. As he did Jihyo and Voljune watched him intently.

“Do you think he ever regrets leaving them?” Voljune's voice echoed softly inside Jihyo as they watched Dio from a distance.

Jihyo's brow furrowed as she studied him, seeing the weight of his memories flickering in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “He couldn’t stay. His path was always going to be different from theirs. But... I think they gave him something important. Maybe more than he realizes.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “He carries their lessons, even if he disagrees with them. That kind of peace... it’s rare. And I think, in his own way, he’s always searching for it—even now.”

Jihyo sighed softly, her heart swelling with affection for the man she loved. He was strong, but not in the way most would think. His strength lay in his resilience, his ability to survive not just the battles outside, but the battles within.

And, maybe one day, he would find the peace he sought—on his own terms.

As Ruhan took hold of Diabolos's body again, his demeanor shifted. The once gentle and calculating presence of Dio faded, replaced by the arrogant and aggressive stance of Ruhan. His movements were sharp, confident, almost theatrical as he relished the control.

"Ah, good," Ruhan exclaimed, rolling his shoulders, feeling the stretch of muscles he hadn't used in ages. "Now we fight."

He made to leave, but before he could step through the door, Jihyo grabbed him by the arm, her grip firm yet full of concern.

“Can I have Dio back for a moment?” she asked, her voice steady.

Ruhan paused, clearly confused, and tried to suppress Dio further, pushing him down into the recesses of their shared mind. But something strange happened. Dio pushed back—more strongly than he had ever done before. Ruhan frowned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to have full control. Yet, despite his efforts, Dio’s consciousness rose to the surface.

Jihyo saw it too. The subtle shift in body language, the softening of his posture. A familiar warmth returned to Diabolos’s eyes.

“I love you, Yo-yo,” Dio said, his voice now his own. “And I love you, Voljune. I’ll be right back.” He gave her a reassuring smile, one that made her heart ache with worry, but she nodded and let go.

As Diabolos stepped away, his mind became a battlefield between him and Ruhan. Internally, they were locked in a struggle. Dio could feel Ruhan’s frustration brewing beneath the surface as the conqueror tried to maintain dominance, but it was Dio’s body—and he was done letting Ruhan run the show without questions.

Inside Dio’s Mind:

“Why are you doing this?” Dio’s voice echoed through their shared consciousness, reverberating in the space where Ruhan’s presence lingered like a shadow. “What’s the endgame, Ruhan? What do you actually want out of all this?”

Ruhan’s laughter filled the void. It was a low, sinister chuckle. “What do I want?” he repeated mockingly as if the question itself was absurd. “I want what I’ve always wanted. Power. Control. The kind of strength that transcends mortal limits. With Orochi back, and Narset neutralized, I can finally take what’s rightfully mine.”

Dio frowned, not satisfied with the answer. “Power for the sake of power? That’s it? You’ve been doing this for ages, Ruhan. Conquest after conquest. Planets have fallen at your feet. What’s the point? What’s the final goal here? More bodies? More worlds under your heel?”

Ruhan’s presence simmered in annoyance. “You wouldn’t understand, Dio. You’re soft. You’ve spent too much time worrying about ‘feelings’ and ‘relationships.’ Strength is all that matters. Control. The universe rewards the strong and devours the weak.”

“But to what end?” Dio pressed. “You’ve conquered worlds, and built empires, but you’re still here, inside me. If you were truly satisfied, you wouldn’t need to keep taking over my body, my life. What are you running from?”

Silence stretched between them, and for a moment, Dio thought he might have hit a nerve. Ruhan’s energy flickered, less stable than before. There was a pause, then Ruhan’s voice came through again, more subdued, but no less cold.

“I am not running from anything,” Ruhan spat, though there was a sharp edge of defensiveness in his tone. “I do what must be done. Those who are weak deserve their fates. Strength is survival.”

Dio let out a slow breath. “You’ve been saying the same thing for centuries, haven’t you? But deep down, you know it’s not enough. What happens when you’ve conquered everything? When there’s nothing left? Then what?”

Ruhan growled, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t get it, do you? There’s always something more to conquer, Dio. Power doesn’t have an end. It’s a cycle. You take, and then you take again. It’s the only way to survive in a universe that wants to crush you.”

Dio’s mind was calm, and contemplative, even as Rohan’s grew more volatile. “Survive... or thrive?” he asked softly. “There’s a difference, Ruhan. And you’re so focused on survival that you’ve forgotten how to live.”

The statement hung in the air like a challenge, one that Ruhan seemed unwilling to face directly. He deflected, shifting his tone. “And what about you, Dio? You pretend to be above it all, acting like you’re somehow better than me. But let’s not forget—you and I are more alike than you think. You’ve got that same hunger inside you. I can feel it.”

Dio’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid to face it. To admit that I want more. But unlike you, I don’t need to destroy everything around me to find it.”

Ruhan scoffed, but his grip on Diabolos’s body loosened slightly. “You’re a fool, Dio. You think peace will save you. That love and bond will make you strong. But when the time comes, and Orochi’s claws are at your throat, you’ll see just how weak those things really are.”

Dio didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But I’ll take that risk.”

In the Real World:

Jihyo and Voljune stood nearby, their shared consciousness attuned to the changes they sensed inside Dio. They exchanged a glance, knowing full well the battle raging inside him but trusting that he would come through.

“Ruhan doesn’t understand, does he?” Jihyo whispered to Voljune. “He only sees strength in conquest. He can’t comprehend what we see in Dio.”

Voljune’s voice resonated softly within her. “Ruhan is blinded by his own fear of weakness. He believes that vulnerability is a flaw. But Dio… he embraces it. That’s why he’s different. That’s why he’s stronger.”

Jihyo nodded, her heart swelling with pride. She watched Diabolos’s body, noting the subtle shifts in his posture. It was Dio again, she could feel it. But Ruhan lingered, a shadow in the background.

“He doesn’t see what we see in Dio,” Jihyo said quietly. “He can only see him as a vessel. A tool. But Dio is so much more than that.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “That’s why we’ll win. Not because of brute force, but because we fight with our hearts, not just our fists.”

Jihyo smiled softly, her gaze fixed on Diabolos as he took a steadying breath, the internal dialogue with Ruhan still raging in the depths of his mind. She knew Dio would come through—he always did.

And when he did, he would show Ruhan just how wrong he was about what true strength really meant.

As Diabolos and Ruhan soared through the stars, the ship they were on hummed with an uneasy energy. The silence between them was thick with tension, the kind that could break at any moment. Ruhan was in control, steering the vessel toward the planetary ruins Orochi had begun to consume. Yet, despite his command over Diabolos's body, he could feel Dio's presence just beneath the surface—a coiled serpent, ready to strike if Ruhan let his guard down for even a second.

In the dimly lit corners of the ship, Ruhan’s soldiers whispered amongst themselves. Most of them had followed Ruhan through countless conquests, planets scorched, and civilizations reduced to ash. They were battle-hardened warriors, yet now, many felt a fear they hadn’t experienced in years. Diabolos, Ruhan’s most volatile and dangerous host, was back. And though they had seen him in action before, something was different this time. The usual raw chaos and fury that accompanied Diabolos had been replaced by a malignant calm—a terrifying stillness that hinted at something far more dangerous than brute strength.

A group of Ruhan’s lieutenants huddled near the back of the ship, casting uneasy glances at Diabolos. One of them, a seasoned warrior with gray streaks in his hair and a scar running down his cheek, turned to his comrade with wide eyes.

"I forgot how formidable they were together," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship.

The other, a captain with sharp, calculating eyes, nodded grimly. “It’s unnerving. It’s like their energies match so perfectly, but they despise each other. It makes no sense.”

The lieutenant glanced over at Diabolos, who stood at the ship’s helm with an eerie stillness, his eyes glowing faintly with the shared power between him and Ruhan. “I know, right? Ruhan’s always been obsessed with Narset, thinking she’s the perfect host, but it's not true. Diabolos—he’s the one. And it’s not even close. If it wasn’t for them working together, Ruhan would never have been able to build this empire.”

The captain’s gaze darkened. “Diabolos is more than just a host. He’s unpredictable. Even Ruhan can’t fully control him, and that’s what makes him dangerous. Narset may have power, but Diabolos… he’s something else. Something Ruhan fears, even if he won’t admit it.”

They both watched as Diabolos—Ruhan—stood, commanding the ship with an unsettling sense of calm. His body was poised, every movement deliberate, but beneath it all, there was a brewing storm, an unspoken tension between the two beings sharing the same vessel. Ruhan’s arrogance may have made him believe he was in control, but anyone who knew Diabolos well understood that he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Another soldier, standing a few paces away, joined the whispered conversation. “It’s strange, isn’t it? They’re more powerful together, but it’s like a ticking time bomb. How long before Diabolos breaks free?”

The captain sighed, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know. But I do know that when it happens, we’d better be far away from the blast.”

The planetary ruins loomed ahead, a vast wasteland consumed by Orochi’s relentless hunger. As the ship descended, the soldiers braced themselves, knowing full well that what lay ahead would be a battle like none they had ever fought before. But the real war, the one between Ruhan and Diabolos, was already underway.

As the landscape of desolation spread out beneath them, Diabolos instantly recognized the remnants of a planet he had once annihilated: Hebo, the sapient planet, whose cries for survival had echoed in his mind long after the destruction. Memories surged within him—fragments of lives extinguished, hopes dashed, and a vibrant world turned to ash.

"Surprised?" Ruhan’s voice cut through Diabolos’s reverie, his amusement masking a deeper concern. He could feel Diabolos’s distress radiating through their shared psyche. But silence greeted him, heavy and foreboding, amplifying Ruhan’s unease. Diabolos loved to talk, to connect. His silence now signaled something serious—either a strategic maneuver or an emotional upheaval. It was likely both.

Dio knew he was standing on the precipice of his worst-case scenario. The weight of his past actions pressed down on him, a suffocating shroud. He needed to be smart, to act prudently. Drawing on the energy that coursed through him, he summoned the Imagin Saber, its hilt warm against his palm. The blade shimmered with the potential of their combined power, but at this moment, it felt like a reminder of his burden.

As they landed on the planet's surface aboard a skiff, Ruhan’s curiosity pierced the heavy atmosphere. “How did you survive being severed twice?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-serious.

“It’s simple. I wanted to live more than you wanted me to die,” Dio replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. The comment earned a genuine laugh from Ruhan.

“God, sometimes I forget how stubborn you are,” Ruhan chuckled, but the mirth was short-lived.

As they approached the titan Orochi, laughter echoed through the barren landscape, cutting through the tension. “I have been expecting you,” the titan boomed, his form shifting and warping into something that was sure to wound them both: Aerith.

Diabolos felt a surge of fury, his body tensing as he instinctively dropped into a defensive stance. Ruhan faltered a flicker of sentimentality and lost love shadowing his expression.

“I knew this form would garner a reaction. Now let’s end this. I have a universe to consume,” Orochi declared, a predatory glint in his eyes. But before he could finish his sentence, before Ruhan or Orochi could even react, Diabolos surged forward, the Imagin Saber slicing through the titan in one fluid motion.

“Color me surprised,” Ruhan shouted, only for his exhilaration to quickly shift to terror as he felt something pull at him—a violation of the worst kind. In that moment of raw fear, Diabolos ripped Ruhan from his body, casting him aside like a discarded husk.

As Ruhan hit the ground, he felt cold, abandoned, and utterly helpless. Watching Diabolos, he saw a new light in his eyes—something he had never witnessed before. It was power, clarity, and a sense of purpose that made Ruhan crave retribution. He was filled with a need to reconnect, to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

“Wait!” Ruhan pleaded, moving toward Dio. “We are meant to be one. You are me, I am you.”

But Dio held him at sword point, the tip of the Imagin Saber glinting in the fractured light of the dying world. “Our deal is done,” he declared, his voice icy.

“B-but?” Ruhan protested, pain lacing his words.

Diabolos faced Ruhan and said, "I should kill you, but Riku wouldn't want that. So I will spare you this once with a warning: Leave me be and you'll live otherwise I will destroy everything you hold dear."

"Who cares about any of that garbage? it's all fleeting to what we had. that power. We were a God." Ruhan screamed in agony

Diabolos, unyielding, began to walk away, and as he did, Ruhan felt something shift within him—a hollowing, a deep sadness that threatened to consume him whole. At that moment, clarity struck him: he had mistaken power for unity. They had been at the top of the food chain together, but that bond had crumbled the instant Dio severed their connection.

“No, please don’t leave me,” Ruhan cried, desperation flooding his voice. “We are one! You’re everything I need! You can’t leave me behind!”

Dio turned his back on Ruhan, striding toward the skiff that awaited him. He signaled for Ruhan's empire to pick him up, his expression unreadable. It didn’t matter what the would-be conqueror’s change of heart was; Dio had made his choice.

As the skiff approached, the chasm between them widened. Ruhan’s pleas faded into the wind, a haunting echo that danced between the ruins of Hebo. The titan Orochi, once a looming threat, now stood in silence, witnessing the fracture of two beings who had once been bound by necessity and ambition.

In that void, Ruhan felt a profound loneliness settle deep within him, a weight heavier than any defeat he had ever faced. As he lay on the cold ground, the remnants of a planet he had once cherished, he realized that power alone could not fill the emptiness left by Diabolos’s absence. It was a lesson too late to learn—a truth swallowed by the shadows of ambition.

as his empire picked him up and brought him to Narset. Narset's eyes widened seeing the parasite alone.

"Where is diabolos?" she demanded?"

Ruhan groaned as his people put him back in Narset. What once felt like a fitting glove felt foreign and alien.

as his psyche overpowered and flooded Narset he lamented, "I finally had it all!" she yelled distressed. the power of infinity freedom from fear, and it's gone. now I am stuck, in this form. Ah, how could I have been so blind? Of course, he was hiding more power, but what kind? I have never felt anything like it. It was somehow whimsical but deeply ancient and terrifying. it was so uniquely him. I had it we had it, and it's slipped through my fingers again." Narset cried as she fell to the floor dismissing her people.

"What do I do knowing that such power exists? I can't live like this I need it Narset said as she clawed into her skin desperately searching her or Ruhan's memories for what could have given Dio that power.

Dio arrived back home later that night, stepping through the door with a quiet confidence that immediately caught both Jihyo and Voljune’s attention. He looked different—not just in appearance but in presence, like a man who had undergone a fundamental change.

The moment Jihyo spotted him, her eyes lit up, and she let out a joyful squeal, rushing to greet him. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and excitement.

But as they drew closer, Voljune was the first to notice something unusual. Her keen eyes took in every detail—the faint glow in Dio’s eyes, the way his skin seemed more vibrant, healthier. Most notably, the twin’s presence was gone. She could no longer feel the subtle hum of Ruhan or the remnants of that alien parasite. His scars, the deep marks that had once been etched into his body like battle wounds, had mostly healed over, replaced by smooth skin. Even more striking was the intensity in the air around him, an aura that shimmered with power, like a star caught between implosion and explosion.

It wasn’t just power though—there was peace, a dangerous calm that made Jihyo blink in awe. She hadn’t felt this kind of energy from him before, something about it was… magnetic. Yet, despite the gravity of the aura, it didn’t push them away. In fact, both Jihyo and Voljune felt drawn toward him, as if he were the center of some invisible force field.

“This is… different,” Voljune murmured, a small frown creasing her brow as she stirred within Jihyo. “Something’s shifted. Ruhan’s gone… he’s gone. Completely.”

Jihyo nodded, her eyes sweeping over Dio, but instead of questioning it further, a soft smile broke across her face. “You look… incredible,” she whispered, her voice low with admiration. There was pride there, as if seeing him like this filled her with a sense of awe.

But before she could say anything else, Diabolos crossed the remaining distance between them in a heartbeat, his movements sudden yet graceful, almost like a predator approaching its prey. Jihyo gasped as he grabbed her, pulling her close. There was an undeniable heat between them now, something fierce and primal, radiating from him like the burning core of a star.

Without hesitation, Dio brought his lips to hers, and Jihyo melted into the kiss. There was nothing gentle about it—he kissed her with an intensity she had never felt before, the hunger and passion raw and unrestrained. His hands gripped her tightly, but not in a possessive way—more like a declaration, as if reminding her that he was there, fully present, fully alive. Jihyo responded with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer as their kiss deepened. It was as if the world around them ceased to exist at that moment, and all that remained was the energy crackling between them.

Voljune felt surprised, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her and Jihyo’s mouths. She hadn’t seen Dio this… free in a long time. The restraint he usually carried with him, the careful consideration of every move, was gone. He was living in this moment with nothing held back.

“Wow, okay,” Voljune muttered under her breath, catching her breath after the kiss. She stared into his eyes and felt his lust rise to the surface. The two beings understood in a moment and surrendered themselves to Dio. His crotch ground into hers during another kiss until they broke it and Diabolos said, “I need you both,” Jihyo and Voljune could feel the desperation in his touch. He needed her reassurance that she was there with him, and Jihyo/Voljune was ready to give it. She smiled as she took him in for another kiss she ground on his crotch where she could feel his bulge surging and ready to meet her folds. Jihyo yelped as he poked her

“Oh someone is very eager.” come on babe let's go to the bedroom. Dio followed her his eyes clouded by lust as she led him. She noticed a change in his touch the hesitancy was gone replaced by an implacable assertiveness and reverence for her that made Jihyo feel heat swell all over her. Dio brought her in for another kiss as they tumbled onto the bed. As they lay entangled in each other’s presence Jihyo smiled.

“With you by my side, I feel like I can take on the world and win,” Jihyo said as she started to take off her top emboldened by his presence.

“You can I know it,” Diabolos affirmed and Jihyo brought him to her chest. She moaned as his tongue swirled around her breast. They locked eyes as Dio switched to the other and Jihyo moaned. She pushed him deeper into her magnificent mounds hoping to smother him in her warm embrace as she continued to grind on his body. Jihyo moans content as Dio explores every part of her breasts and continues to lick massage and grope her mighty mammaries. When finally stops Jihyo pulls him up to her and says, “Let me fucking ride you.” Dio nodded as he opened his pants to her. Jihyo gets up to take her bottoms off. She straddles him and stares into his eyes. Where she sees a list of course but a renewed vigor for life. Jihyo smiled as she sank into his cock only for Dio to stand right up and begin thrusting into her. She moaned as she never knew he could so easily manhandle her like this. She groaned as his cock kisses her cervix with the tip before greedily taking him in for another kiss. She clung to him like a koala as he ravaged her insides with the vigor of an animal before he laid her gently on the bed and continued plowing her. He watched her delicious breast bounce as he fucked her until Jihyo screamed reaching her orgasm. Terrified he pulled out but Jihyo in the throes of violent pleasure grabbed him and said in unison with Voljune, “Put that cock back in me and cum in me or I will rip it off.” now even more terrified. (and aroused) by his girlfriend, he slammed back into her. Jihyo’s screams echoed through their apartment,

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she groaned as Dio ravaged her and her eyes rolled back. Unable to hold back any longer Dio picked up speed and burst inside of her. Jihyo moaned as she felt him cum inside of her sending her into another orgasm. It was then that Dio realized that Jihyo had an impregnation kink. As every single time they fuck she wanted a creampie. Dio smiled and teased her saying, “You wanna be a mom so bad,” Jihyo’s eyes narrowed as she pinned Dio to the bed, and she began riding him. Her pace was ruthless as she took him in and out. Her eyes never left his as she rode him right past the refractory period into another arousal period. Her eyes filled with need as she demanded he fill her again.

“Please Dio give me a baby please,” Jihyo said as she rode. Diabolos for all his strength and power was helpless to stop her as she rode him again and again stringing out orgasm after orgasm until he passed out.

When the warmth in her core left Jihyo looked down to see Dio was unconscious. She chuckled as she got off of him. His cum having filled her womb with seed. She smiled as she lay next to the poor man sensually stroking his cock as he awoke jolting awake. Jihyo locked eyes with him as she never let go and kept nursing his rod back to life gingerly.

When they finally broke apart, Jihyo was breathless, her heart racing as she gazed up at him. “What… what happened to you?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as if to confirm that he was real.

“I moved on,” Dio said a bit perplexed and unsure of how he came to that answer but understanding it was the correct one. Jihyo and Voljune smiled as they lay next to Diabolos happy to see him so vibrant. He was different from the Dio he was before he was severed but the one that stood before them had a new glow to him that was undeniable.

[misctf]

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car.  

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they’d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

[quaithe-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[cvrsedslytherin]

Exquisite Hell — My Silver-Tongued Devil

Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader (First person POV)

NSFW, minors do not interact. Work of ANGST and SMUT.

Sebastian Sallow was a silver-tongued devil. One you couldn’t get enough of; not even when it poisoned you. Your endless thoughts seeped through as he took you like he always did—he gave you agony and pleasure.

Divider Credits: @/thecutestgrotto

Disclaimer: I’d like to consider this a poetic oneshot though I’m no poet. This is a new style of writing I’m trying. Same with the reader being GN and a first person pov. I tried my best as I’m learning this style and even one of these genres, not used to smut. This was inspired by two things. I can only hope I did it justice.

Winsome and diaphanous were the way Sebastian Sallow’s words came at me; he truly had a way of making me believe all the charming things he would say.

Was it his smile that would bask in the warmth of a thousand suns? Was it the way his deep-set brown eyes would glimmer like honey as soon as the light had shone on them? Was it the low tone of his voice with that Scottish accent that sent shivers down my spine? Or maybe it was the hundreds of freckles painted on his face that made him seem so innocent at first.

That smile wasn’t a smile but a dangerous smirk that I was too blind to see. Calculated, because he knew what he was doing to me. The light illuminated his eyes, tricking me to forget how dark they would usually be.

And the freckles? Well, those were just damn attractive. No trickery, just sheer dumb luck to make him more perfect.

I don’t have to explain how devastatingly handsome Sebastian Sallow is. Not only did he have a brain that captivated me in every way; even with the darkness that shackled his mind… but he also looked like everything I ever wanted. A nightmare masking as a daydream.

What was he, sculpted by the Greek Gods somehow?

Yet he was the most flawed being I ever had the agonizing pleasure of knowing. An ugliness that I was still drawn to. Not even the Cruciatus curse compared to him. I felt as though I was put under Imperio just to endure his delightful pain—and yes, it was delightful.

One day, I swear my heart would feel Avada Kedavra cast from him. Maybe not in a literal sense but definitely in the way that my soul would get turned into ashes by him.

Sebastian Sallow, the personification of the Unforgivable curses. In a hauntingly, beautiful way.

An angel is what he could have been but too bad, he was the devil. Alas, I was the mere fool caught in his trap though.

Sebastian had potential; it wasn’t that he was evil per se, there was good but it had been too deeply buried in the confines of his smeared soul. Too much hurt had plagued him and as much as I wished to be his saving grace, I couldn’t be. No matter how hard I tried, he was lost.

And all I could do was let him drag me through this exquisite hell that would eventually destroy me.

Perhaps I was twisted too… because I couldn’t stay away.

I was in love.

A familiar sensation, of Sebastian fucking me well into oblivion. His cock was so deeply swallowed by me, making me moan out incoherent words. A game that we played except it wasn’t a game to me; yet I let myself stay as a player.

Once he heard those sinful sounds escape from my lips, his smirk widened. His eyes twinkled with pride because he knew. He fucking knew.

I enjoyed the pleasure too; it would be a lie to say that I didn’t. My body undoubtedly craved his just as he seemed to want to mold into mine, trying to possess me.

Wanting him in every way imaginable but I don’t just mean this erotic dance we engaged in. Ah, I digress.

Sebastian Sallow knew how to fuck and make you feel like you’re on top of the world, that was the simple truth.

On the other hand, I had wished he was fucking me out of pure love… but I knew better than to believe the sweet praises falling from those lips. The praises left a bittersweet taste in my mouth as I both relished and ached at those delicious words.

Maybe deep down… he did feel something as this was reoccurring. The full length of his shaft seemed to find a home in the tightness of my heat. Never getting tired of the pleasurable sensation, he nor I.

I couldn’t read his mind; he’d never let me nor would he offer to share any depth. I wasn’t the most angelic of people either—so casting 'Legilimens’ was always on the tip of my tongue, to just dive into that tortured soul of a mind. Merlin, the curiosity was a brutal need. The spell whirling in my mind as if to taunt me.

I just wanted to know… what he hides in there.

Yet I felt that sometimes, I was the only one who could understand him. Who could pick up the cues. I knew he was a mess of a person—the prettiest boy, full of mischief and sadness; a violent boy, full of rage and insecurity that others failed to see. I noticed everything about him.

But not what he thinks of me. He needs someone. Who can that someone be? It won’t be me, no matter how hard I wish upon the stars in the night sky to grant me this one thing. Why would it? This is the prison of chaos not the oasis of miracles.

In the primal sense, it seemed like he needed ME but love? He’s charismatic to several, which makes me turn green; my eyes full of jealousy burning behind his back. A burning that I had to dip into the vast ocean to cleanse out of my system before the pain in me revealed itself. This was where the problems that choked me lay. Flirtatious in personality and infected others with smiles, even if they got annoyed with him. No one could stay away from him and I know he was experienced. Whether from the past or present. I know he would compliment others; he couldn’t resist charming a pretty girl who gave him attention—that came his way, stealing what I laid naive, emotional claim to.

Fuck, I was as possessive as he was. I just hid it well externally. And yes, he spoke possessively to me, maybe because it was the heat of passion.

“You feel amazing, fuck…” A grunt escaped his mouth at a particularly rough thrust that had my insides shaking. I arched a bit, accepting how greedily he wanted to bury himself inside of me—stretching me more and more to my limits every single time.

“You’re mine, say it… ah, haa…” he practically growled that out as I whimpered.

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have.

Yet my heart instantly responded with a ‘yes, I’m utterly yours, you fool.’ That whimper caused him delight as his eyes darkened at me.

But I had a small piece of pride during these moments when he wrecked me; a shudder in my body serving to his pleasure. A pride he would no doubt, break down.

He took his free hand that wasn’t gripping my hip with a bruising force and pried my mouth fully open with his thumb. His movements speed up, slamming with reckless abandon now. ‘He’s close,’ I thought. He slightly pushed his thumb into my mouth, holding the bottom of my jaw with the rest of his hand, the tip of his thumb touching my bottom teeth, moving further in—trying to feel a bit of my tongue.

“Say it, sweetheart… c’mon, say that you’re mine,” he didn’t growl it this time. Much to my surprise, it almost sounded like a plea rather than a command and that’s how devilish he was. He knew I would weaken at that tone right away. I cursed my weakness.

Gasping out, I mumbled, “A-ah… y-yours…”

“Whose?” His thrust punctuated that question and his hand was still there, wanting me to mumble more. Commanding it now to rip out of me.

“Yours… S-Sebastian… I’m yours.” My mouth betrayed my little pride despite it being the truth. I had no eyes for anyone else.

He groaned in satisfaction and grinned a little, then dipped his thumb fully into my mouth, making me suck. My lips closed in and my tongue moved slightly because I would have kissed and licked every part of him.

And I did.

Just as he also did it; he would worship my body sometimes. Making sure every inch of it got attention… got touched, kissed, licked, sucked; all of it. Covering me in marks as if I were his work of art, a masterpiece he wished to display because he created it and owned it. It wasn’t always a frantic fuck—a mindless release but this was what made me wish more; that he would never even glance at someone else. My dark thoughts oozed out, the fact that I wanted to cage him and hide him from the others. See, I was pathetically obsessed with him.

He didn’t know the full extent of it; he knew I cared. Knew I whipped to the core but he didn’t know these dark thoughts because he treated me like an angel to play with.

Or the lion devouring the lamb.

And this lamb wasn’t going to expose the whole truth put in the locked vault of my body, chains around it.

“Such an innocent face…” he rasped out, his pumps into me gaining even more speed suddenly. I could feel the throbbing of his cock start to grow. My eyes were somewhat half-lidded, gazing with everything at him. The shimmer of light illuminated their colors. He loved my eyes for some reason and said they expressed more than I knew. Only at this moment.

My deep subconscious thinking, ‘Yeah, innocent face hiding filthy, dark desires.’

“Darling… you’re so radiant, shining brighter than the beams of sunlight,” another rasp came out as his thumb slipped out of my mouth. My saliva coated it so he placed it near his mouth, his tongue swiping his thumb to taste the wetness I left on him.

He whispered for a moment but loud enough so I could hear, “Actually… if you were the sun itself, I’d keep staring even though I’d go blind. You’re worth looking at more than anything or anyone else.”

He would add in something like that, so randomly—his charming tricks just crashed into the open. Was it cheesy? Maybe. Yet it still made goosebumps appear on my skin and made my face start to heat up. It made me feel like I had a bloody chance, especially with how that voice sounded.

Then he swiped his tongue at it once more.

“Mnn tastes divine…” he murmured like a starved man, getting closer and closer to the edge of his release. He put that hand back on the other side of my hip; both hands firmly pinning me down to his bed more now. I squirmed because I always loved feeling his hands on me, even if they were hurting me a little.

There was a gratification in that pain.

“You are the sweetest fruit I could ever take a bite of…” his face contorting in the most wonderful form of pleasure as he poured out those words, like the silver-tongued devil he was. “You know that, right? How sweet you are… I can’t let anyone else taste it.”

The blood in my veins felt like it was ablaze, scorching my body with the heat he created.

“So warm… God—so tight…” he panted with a whine that ruined me; he struggled to speak a little as his hips were rapidly bucking in. His stamina was something else and the relentlessness of his speed, like he was a creature. But I took him well… a match to him.

My body tensed up at his continuous praises, ready to follow him in the orgasmic bliss that was about to wash over us. He could feel that I was close too as he stayed attuned to me and so, he leaned over while continuing to fuck me until I saw stars. Both of us were on the edge of spilling as his mouth planted onto mine, making this moment intimate. The bed creaked from his force, the sounds of flesh slapping and the noises our mouths made that were now muffled; consuming each other.

More like, him consuming me as I couldn’t fight his dominance.

His kiss almost felt like it was stealing my soul, searching for all the love he could find. Taking in every moan or whine out of me, his tongue plunging into my mouth—seeking the taste of the fruit he had taken bites of before, exploring deeply. Sometimes he’d pull my tongue out a bit so he could suck on it then resume kissing me more sweetly after. That made me feel like I was on cloud nine. That made me writhe underneath him as butterflies filled my stomach with the way he worked on me.

Then the bite would come, nibbling my bottom lip then sinking those teeth harder in, tugging to make tears slip out of me. Tears that I didn’t mind giving because I was in ecstasy.

“Sebastian…” I choked out, barely sounding normal at all and his body shook.

My eyes rolled back as his cock hit that special spot and let go. He moved his face away, letting my bottom lip go—throwing back his head as his jaw clenched & he let out a guttural groan, “fucking hell… f-fuck… love.”

He had exploded inside of me… copious amounts of his cum filling me; his cock twitching in the contentment of his climax. He collapsed on top of me instantly due to the quantity, almost squishing me and keeping that strong grip on my hips. My hands had gripped his arms sometime between it all, now shaking.

‘Love,’ why did he have to call me that now? It wasn’t fair. I cried out loudly, finding my finish as well as my whole body arched into his despite him pressing me into the bed. I think I was convulsing beneath him; more tears streaming down my face.

His hips still stuttered and mindlessly rutted a bit until he was completely spent. My limbs went numb, loosening… the pants of us both being the only sound as silence filled. Rapid breaths as our flesh stuck together, unwilling to separate much at all.

He didn’t speak nor did I. He didn’t move out of me… he would stay there for a while & hide his face in the crook of my neck once he started calming. I would lay there, letting this temporary warmth he gave me… stay with me as if it was all mine. As if we were going to be this way forever. As if HE was mine.

This game we play… he plays, has to come to an end, eventually. I know that. This sweet torment he puts me through. The words that make him sound as if he’s a poet trying to romance me with the intention of what I silently weep for. As if he cares about keeping the heart he has captured.

For a moment, he gazes at me with something unreadable, making my heart feel like it’s swelling. Hope gnaws at me quietly… ‘Why is he looking at me like that?’ but hope was a cruel bitch. Promising falsity in fools like me; I wouldn’t fall for it, I would shake it off and he would look away.

He doesn’t love me. He never will.

No amount of prayers can cure my addiction; as he was the drug that I kept taking. The sweetened poison I kept letting sink into me.

I wasn’t a devil but I was ugly inside too.

But my love for him was real, unyielding. Scorching my soul in its wake, fast to undo me because loving him was agony.

The unspoken words… the words of love, the deepest of my desires, the raw ones that weren’t so innocent—suffocating me each day but very slowly. Making sure I experience the most pitiful of deaths. But he knew because of those smirks and gazes he gave… he knew, deep down. Still, I tried to masquerade as a fool ignorant of my intense feelings. Parading around like he didn’t have me wrapped around his finger, that it wasn’t painfully obvious.

Does he know I’m dying? How many times has he looked at me and not realized, it’s killing me, or maybe he did—I wasn’t a mind reader. Even though I had the opportunity to try. Can that one spell satisfy me?

Maybe he was the beautiful reaper, his actions were the scythe.

Why can’t I understand him?

And why did he look at me now… with mysterious eyes for that moment? Eyes full of something.

I’m in hell but I can’t hate it.

“It’s oddly exquisite.”

I am considering a second fanfic to this; in which it will Sebastian’s POV? But not sure. Would be a new challenge for me…

And yes, this was uploaded on my other (now deleted) account.

Pls correct me if you see errors, ty.

[milunalupin]

— full moon farms

Part One: Potter's Pumpkins

james potter x reader ★ 795 words

thank you to the lovely @ttulipwritezz for helping me out <3

When Pandora had invited you to come to the farm she worked at, you assumed you would be wandering around the attractions together.

"There's tons to do here, and my shift is only for a few more hours!" your best friend squeezed your hands and smiled apologetically.

You knew it wasn't with mal-intent, having you come by yourself. Having just moved into town, your old dormmate thought it would be a good idea to meet the locals and get out of your flat. You supposed you should stay and look around since you're already here, although the chilly autumn breeze had you wishing you hadn't forgotten your jacket back home.

"Have fun, love you!" she blew you a kiss as her perfectly manicured hands pulled her hair up into a ponytail. You held back a sigh as you watched her blonde curls bounce back to the cafe.

You take it you should start somewhere, so you head the closest attraction, the pumpkin patch. The cobblestone trail was adorned with autumn-colored flags and pumpkin-shaped fairy lights. At the entrance of the patch stood a wooden archway with a hand painted sign reading 'Potter's Pumpkins'.

Multitudes of younger kids ran around, warming your heart as some attempted to pick up the larger pumpkins, or begged their parents for a mini one to take home. To your left were multiple tables that were covered in what looked like the aftermath of a pumpkin massacre.

"Afternoon! Is there anything I can help you with?"

A surprised gasp escaped you as you almost ran into the tall stranger, your hand laid over your chest.

"Oh," your response came late, not wanting to offend the man standing before you by laughing at his stereotypical red flannel and overalls, "No, just walking around, thank you."

He smiled brightly as if he hadn't noticed your hesitancy, his shirt buttons struggling to stay together as he lifted an arm to run a hand through his curls.

“What a shame! You just missed the pumpkin carving contest. Little Christopher carved a wicked design—first prize was a free hayride and a dozen donuts from the café.” Sighing, he nodded toward the chaotic scene of orange pulp you had observed just moments before.

"That's nice, we didn't have anything like this back home." you smiled.

"Well, allow me to give you a little tour then, follow me."

As he walked you around around the patch, James explained explained to you the origins of Full Moon Farms, how it was his friend Remus' uncle's farm and him and his friends grew up on these grounds. Eventually the old man retired, leaving the property to Remus, who then with the help of James and their other friend Sirius made it into a local attraction during the autumn season.

"I really want the kids to have a good time here, so we also do carving contests, painting, and sack races."

James points out your untied shoelace, so you two take a break on a nearby bench. Before you could full sit down he was already on one knee pulling on your laces.

"Not pulling too tight, am I?"

You shook your head no, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. As soon as he finished tying your shoes, he sat beside you on the old bench, jumping into a friendly interrogation. You answered his questions about your background and reasons for moving to this little town happily. In return he gave you great recommendations on shops and restaurants to try in town.

He was very expressive when he spoke, his hands waving anywhere and everywhere, while his bright eyes danced around your face, his smile growing with every positive reaction you gave him. You quietly wonder if it's the autumn chill or the look he's giving you that sends a shiver through you.

Once you circle back to his booth, he reaches behind the counter and pulls out a miniature pumpkin, "Welcome to town, this one's on me."

"Oh I can't," you shook your head, pushing the orange squash back into his hands.

"You can," he grins, putting his larger hands over yours to move his offering back to you, "I insist."

"That's really sweet of you James, thank you so much."

"Well, I'm glad Pandora dragged you out here, it was nice meeting you." his eyes trailed from the pumpkin in your hands up to your face, quickly fixing his posture and moving his gaze as it wasn't very professional to be staring at you this long. "Um, if you're not sure where to go next, I'd recommend the haunted house down this way, left of the popcorn cart."

Cradling your new pumpkin, you thanked and waved goodbye to the bespectacled man and followed the wooden fences to the next attraction.

[sorcerer-felix]

I hear you can help me. I want to be older to be out of my college years. I'm nerdy, so beefing up wouldn't hurt either. I'm just tired of the jocks always messing with me.

The salty breeze whipped around you as you perched on the stone wall overlooking the Mediterranean. The boat ride earlier had been unbearable, the jocks tossing around crude jokes like beach balls while you fiddled with your engineering gear, feeling like a fish out of water. The raucous laughter of the jocks echoed in the distance, each burst of sound like a sharp jab to your chest. You closed your eyes, allowing the rhythmic crashing of waves below to wash away the day's frustration. You were 21, but every time you glanced in the mirror, the reflection of your slender frame and youthful face felt like a cruel joke.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back, staring up at the fading sunset, the brilliant oranges and pinks bleeding into the deepening blue of the sea. You were lost in thought when a figure caught your eye. Strolling along the path, a young man dressed in white silk shorts and a matching gilet glided into view. His blonde fade cut shimmered in the light, and those piercing blue eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. You blinked, half-expecting him to disappear like a mirage.

He walked with an effortless grace, and you can’t help but stare. Could he be…? “Hey!” you called out, your voice rising above the sound of the sea. “Are you… Felix?” He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “I am. And you are…?” “Just a confused engineering student,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Mind if I join you?” he replied, plopping down beside you. “What’s got you looking so glum?” You chuckled bitterly, your heart racing just being near him. “It’s these oceanography students. They’re all surfers and jocks, and they think it’s funny to pick on me. I can’t wait for this study trip to end.” “Jocks?” Felix raised an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Sounds like a rough crowd.” “Rough doesn’t begin to cover it,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping. Felix laughed, a rich, musical sound. “Well, I have my struggles too. Helping a friend with his new hotel resort, and now I’m stuck doing his gardener’s work because the guy quit unexpectedly.” You couldn’t help but smile, “You? In a garden?” “Hey!” he laughed again, his eyes bright. “I’m more than just a pretty face! It’s exhausting work, though. I’m covered in dirt half the time.” He brushed a hand through his hair, and you caught a glimpse of something different in his expression. “But it’s nice to get away from the usual.” “Yeah, I could do with a break,” you said, leaning back and gazing at the sunset. “I wish I could just skip campus forever. I’d give anything to be older—maybe a bit more…beefy, too.” You laughed at the absurdity of it, but Felix tilted his head, considering your words. “That is manageable, but there’s no free lunch!” His grin widened, and you felt a shiver of excitement mixed with apprehension. “What do you mean?” you asked, half-expecting him to suggest something ridiculous—like some creepy ritual involving animal sacrifices. He leaned closer, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “You could help me with the garden work for a week. In return, I can help you out with that… beefiness and age you’re longing for.” Relief washed over you. “Seriously? That’s it? I thought you were going to ask for something insane.” Felix shrugged, unfazed. “Nah. Just some hard work. What do you say?” “I’m in!” you replied, eager to escape the jocks for a while.

Felix raised his hands, and a blue sphere of shimmering magic coalesced between them. Your awe quickly turned to thrill. “Wait, I don’t have to work first?” “Not at all,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “You wanted to bulk up, right? Well, this is how we start.” As the sphere pulsed in the air, you felt warmth radiate through your body. Your muscles began to swell, filling out your limbs until they felt taut and powerful. A grin spread across your face; it was exhilarating. Then, without warning, a deep rumble erupted from your throat. “Moo?” you responded, bewildered at the sound that escaped your lips. Felix chuckled, his laughter ringing like the distant bells of a coastal town. “Don’t worry! It’s all part of the process. First, we bring a bit of meat to your bones.” He paused, waving the sphere again, and the energy swirled around you, engulfing you in its light. “Later on, you’ll become a little older.” You tried to speak, to voice your concerns, but instead, another discontented “Moo!” tumbled out. Panic began to claw at your insides as you looked down at your body, realizing the transformation was more than just muscle. “Why am I turning into a bull?” you thought, your heart racing.

Felix placed a calming hand on your shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just trust the process, Rodrigo. After a week of helping me in the hotel park, you’ll be back to human. Think of it as a vacation from the jocks!” “Rodrigo?” The name felt strange, foreign on your tongue—or rather, in your mind, since it didn’t seem you could speak at all. You mooed again, this time in protest, shaking your head as if that could change your fate. “Exactly! A fitting name for a bull, don’t you think?” Felix grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Now, let’s get started!”

Over the next few days, you toiled in the resort's park, digging, lifting, and hauling under Felix's watchful eye. The work is exhausting, and you find yourself too tired to resist his commands.

Obedience became your default, and you accepted your fate for the week. You, now a bull named Rodrigo, had no choice but to follow his lead; the exhaustion from the hard labor has left you too weary to resist. "Good boy, Rodrigo," Felix praised, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "We'll make a fine team by the end of the week." You can only moo softly in response, a mixture of acceptance and resignation. As the days passed, Felix's training became more intense. He teached you obedience, and you find yourself surprisingly compliant, rationalizing that it's only for a short while. "Just a few more days," you thoughed, "and then I'll be free."

Then, on an ordinary afternoon, your world shifted. A farmer drove his herd past the resort, and as the cows ambled by, something primal stired within you. You felt a surge of power, and your bull form responded instinctively. Your cock, thick and heavy, pushed out from its sheath, causing Felix to approach with a mixture of caution and intrigue. "Easy, Rodrigo," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I suggest you restrain yourself. Breed the cow if you must, but we can't predict what that might trigger." He gestured to a phantom cow, a mechanical contraption designed for bull breeding. "Use that if you're horny," Felix instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We don't want any accidents." You snorted, a defiant huff of air. But you've heard the tales of men losing their sanity after experiencing the raw, animalistic pleasure of mating in beast form. Determined not to fall victim to such a fate, you chose to endure the torment of your lust, ignoring even the phantom cow. But the following days were a constant battle. Every little stimulus—a gentle breeze, the scent of fresh grass, or the mere thought of a cow—would cause your cock, now a powerful bull's pride, to spring forth, glistening with anticipation. As the week drew to a close, you were desperate for the transformation back to human form, your lust burning like an unquenchable fire.

Finally, Felix approached you, his hands raised, the blue sphere of magic dancing between his palms. The air crackled with energy as the spell took hold, and you felt the magic course through your body. Your muscles shifted, changing, and you stood tall, no longer a bull, but a man—a muscular, rugged stud in his prime. The transformation left you breathless, and you stared at your new reflection in awe. A stubble graced your masculine face, and your body was chiseled, every inch a testament to power.

But the awe quickly turned to frustration as you realized your lust had not diminished; it had intensified. Your gaze locked onto Felix, and you lusted after him, this handsome boy, with a newfound intensity. Driven by desire, you strode towards Felix, your steps confident, almost predatory. "Felix, let's take our collaboration to the bedroom," you purred, your voice deep and commanding. Felix's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his face. But his expression quickly turned stern, and he raised a single eyebrow, his voice firm. "Don't you dare, Rodrigo. You will address me as Master from now on." His words shocked you, but the obedience training from your time as a bull took hold. "Yes, Master," you heard yourself say, your voice hoarse with submission.

Without another word, you turned and fled to the nearest hotel room, your body throbbing with need. Inside the room, you tore at your clothes, exposing your muscular frame. Your cock, hard as steel, demanded attention. You grasped it, stroking furiously, seeking release. Moans escaped your lips as you imagined Felix, his pale skin, and those captivating eyes watching you. "Oh, Master..." you whispered, your voice hoarse as you climaxed, but the release provided only temporary solace.

Still breathless, you sought out Felix, determined to understand this persistent desire. "There's something wrong, Master," you pleaded. "I'm still so aroused, even after..." Felix's grin was mischievous, his eyes sparkling with knowledge. "I told you to use the phantom cow, Rodrigo. Your state of arousal upon transformation is key. It determines your permanent desire." Confusion mingled within you. "But I can't function like this!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration. "I need my mind sharp, especially as an engineer." Felix let out a booming laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "An engineer? You? Look at yourself, Rodrigo. You're in your thirties now, and your wish has come true—you'll never set foot on campus again. What job did you expect?"

The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt your world tilt. You are no longer a student; you are an adult, magically barred from your studies. Panic rose within you, and you struggled to find your footing. You're trapped, not just in this new body but in a future you never imagined. "But... but I..." Your words trailed off, unable to form a coherent protest. "Don't fret, my friend," Felix said, his voice softening. "I know, and I've taken care of it. With your engineering knowledge and new physique, you'll be an excellent addition to the resort staff. The guests will be more than happy to have your... personal services, all without charging them a penny extra." "Personal services?" You repeated, your voice cracking. The idea of becoming a servant, let alone a sexual servant, was never part of your plan. You glanced around, noticing the hungry stares of a mature woman and a young man, their eyes locked on you with unspoken desires. Your cock twitched, responding to their gaze, and you understood what Felix meant. "But I..." Your protest died on your lips as Felix placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet reassuring. "Go on, Rodrigo. It's time to embrace your new life. The guests are waiting."

And so, your journey took an unexpected turn. By day, you tended to the hotel's needs, fixing leaks, and repairing broken furniture. But as the sun set, you transformed into the hotel's secret weapon, satisfying the guests' desires with your insatiable lust. Farewells were brief as Felix departed, leaving you to your new life. The guests' moans and whispered thanks became the soundtrack to your nights, and you found yourself embracing the pleasure you gave and received. Little did you know, this was just the beginning of your journey as the hotel's resident stud, and the Mediterranean nights would forever be marked by your passionate encounters.

[thinkinginpen]

Jazz and Desire

a/n: This one is just to tease you guys because I felt like it: pairing: bucky x reader w/c: 4.4k warnings: romance, hinting, love, etc. summary: Going on a first date with Bucky and he takes you home.

Bucky looks at his watch for the twelfth time in the last half hour.

"Relax," you say. "You look like a college kid on his first date."

"I'm nervous," Bucky replies. He straightens his tie and sighs. It's hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but you swear he looks a little red-faced. "It's been a while since I've done this."

"And here I thought you were some sort of World War 2 playboy." You take a sip of your drink, looking him up and down. He's a little dressed up for a dark dive like this, but you're certainly not complaining.

Bucky shrugs, trying to look casual as he takes a drink of his own. "I don't know if that's an accurate description. Most of my dates in that era never made it past second base."

You laugh. "Bucky Barnes, are you saying you were a nice boy during the war?"

"Hey, I tried to be a gentleman," Bucky says, although he's smiling. "I'll have you know, I was quite the charmer."

"And humble, too." You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

"I'm serious," Bucky says, leaning in a little closer. "When I was trying to impress someone, I was the sweetest guy you'll ever meet."

His voice lowers a bit, his smile growing a little more wicked. "Until you got me alone, that is."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool even though you can feel the heat rising in your face.

"Oh, so you were a nice boy when someone was watching but a bad boy behind closed doors?"

Bucky grins at your reaction.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I was a good boy in public and a very bad boy in private."

He smirks and lets his eyes wander up and down your body, obviously enjoying how flustered he's making you.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to keep up the banter.

"And what kind of bad things did you like to do behind closed doors, Sarge?"

Bucky leans in even closer, his voice lowered to a near-whisper as he murmurs in your ear.

"Let's just say it involves a lot less talking and a lot more…"

He suddenly pulls back, leaving you hanging for a moment before finishing the sentence.

"Dancing. We'd do a lot of dancing. What did you think I was going to say?"

You roll your eyes again, trying not to show just how much he's getting to you.

"Oh, I'm sure you were a real Fred Astaire in your heyday."

"I was pretty good," Bucky says, smiling smugly. "And I can still cut a pretty mean rug, if I do say so myself."

He stands up from the stool and straightens his jacket, offering you his hand. "Feel like a demonstration? I have an old record player back at my place."

You hesitate, considering. On the one hand, you were having a good time here in the relative safety of the bar. On the other hand… spending more time alone with Bucky, potentially within touching distance of his bed…

You take a deep breath and reach out, grabbing his hand. "Okay, but you better be able to back up your big talk, soldier."

Bucky grins, obviously pleased that he's talked you into this. He pulls you to your feet with his Vibranium arm as he stands up, his chest suddenly pressed against yours.

"I'll do my best, doll," he says, his voice a low murmur. "But I always deliver."

You can feel your heart racing as he pulls you close, his muscular chest pressed against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his muscles coiled under his jacket, just waiting to spring into action.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "So, are we heading back to your place to do some dancing, or what?"

Bucky grins, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Dancing, yes. There might be some other things involved too."

He keeps hold of your hand as he guides you out of the bar and into the cool night air. The walk to his apartment is only a few blocks, but it feels like an eternity as the tension between you continues to build.

Finally, you reach his apartment building. Bucky leads you up the stairs to the third floor, unlocking the door and flipping on a light switch.

His apartment is small, but tidy. There's an old record player in the corner, and Bucky heads straight for it. He rifles through his collection of records before pulling one out and carefully placing it on the player.

"You recognize this song?" he asks as he starts the record spinning.

You nod as you recognize the opening bars of the song. It's a slow, sultry jazz number, the kind that's perfect for dancing.

Bucky holds out his regular hand for you, gesturing for you to join him in the small living room. "C'mere."

You take his hand and let him pull you into the middle of the room, then he smoothly pulls you into his arms, your body pressed against his. You can feel the hard muscle of his chest against your cheek as he starts to sway to the music, guiding you in a slow circle across the wooden floor.

Bucky's arms are strong and sure as he leads you around the room. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek, and the warmth of his breath as he speaks quietly in your ear.

"See? Nice, polite boy in public, and not too bad today."

He spins you out in a quick twirl, then pulls you back in tightly, your bodies now pressed even closer together.

You try to say something witty in response, but all that comes out is a small gasp as he pulls you back in. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the firm muscles of his arms as he holds you close.

"So," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Is this what you did with all the girls back in the forties? Slow dancing?"

"I did a little bit more than dance," he replies, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "But yes, I did a lot of dancing."

He spins you out again, then pulls you back in with a twirl, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. He's pressed flush against you, his hips pressed against your hips, his thighs pressed against your thighs.

You can feel your face growing warmer as you dance. Bucky's body is like a furnace pressed tightly against yours, the feel of him nearly overwhelming. You can feel the taut muscles of his arms and chest through his shirt, the heat of his breath against your skin as he murmurs in your ear.

"You know," he says, his voice low and raspy. "I wasn't joking about it getting a lot less polite in private."

"Oh really?" you reply, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays you with a small hitch in your breath at the end.

"Mm-hm," Bucky says, his lips brushing the soft skin of your ear. "I was a real bad boy behind closed doors. In fact, some of the things I did were downright sinful…"

The low rumble of his voice combined with the warmth of his body is almost too much for you to handle. You can feel yourself starting to lose control, your body responding to his on its own.

"Oh yeah?" you say, your voice breathless. "What kind of… sinful things?"

"Oh, you know… touching… caressing…" Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, his hand tracing a lazy path down your back. "Kissing… biting…"

You let out a shuddering gasp as he kisses your neck, his lips trailing down the sensitive skin to your collarbone. The feel of his mouth on your skin is like fire, and you can feel your body responding hungrily to his touch.

"B-Bucky," you whisper, trying to gather your thoughts. "We… we shouldn't…"

"Why not?" Bucky says, his voice low and sultry in your ear. "Aren't you enjoying your date, doll?"

He starts to kiss his way back up your neck, his hand now resting at the small of your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"You're a grown woman," he continues, his voice still low and intimate. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself."

Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch as he kisses your neck and shoulders. His words are making it harder and harder to resist him.

"We… we just met," you protest weakly, but you can feel yourself starting to give in.

Bucky chuckles, his breath hot against your skin. "That's never stopped me before."

You take a shaky breath as his lips brush against your ear again, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. "I always get what I want, doll. And right now, I want you."

His hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you closer. You can feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours, and your resistance is rapidly weakening.

Bucky starts kissing his way down your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his lips travel lower and lower. You can feel yourself losing control, your eyes closing as your head tilts back, your body practically melting into his.

"B-Bucky," you whisper, your voice sounding weak. "We… we shouldn't…"

He chuckles, his voice low and intimate in your ear, his body pressed up against yours. "Oh, but I think we should."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Tension

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Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, heavyyyyy angst, arguring, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT)  (boyband)

Relationships: !idol Dino x !idol f reader

Summary: What happens when you are the only girl member of svt, but you only but heads with Dino....

(I wanna establish that y/n has been a member since the beginning as a pr stunt, but the fans liked have a girl member in the group)

Trope : work frenemies

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Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the thirteenth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

It started like any other day—a regular Tuesday morning with Seventeen rehearsing, voices overlapping, the faint smell of sweat and cologne filling the room. Everything was in motion, and yet I found myself anchored to the spot, glaring at Dino. Our usual standoff, fueled by some unspoken rivalry, like clockwork.

Ever since I joined the team, there was this weird tension between us. It wasn’t that we hated each other. No, hate is clear-cut, direct. This was… messier. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to punch him or kiss him, and that uncertainty scared me.

“You’re not in sync,” Dino snapped, cutting through my haze, as if sensing my thoughts. He turned to me, his eyes sharp and critical. “Again.”

I rolled my eyes. He was always so damn nitpicky about the choreography, like he had something to prove. To me. To himself. To the group. I wasn’t sure which.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I shot back, my voice harsher than intended. “I’m doing fine.”

“You’re dragging the rest of us down,” he spat, not even trying to hide his frustration. His jaw clenched in that way that made my stomach twist. Why did he have to look so good when he was angry?

“I’m not dragging anyone down,” I retorted, stepping forward, close enough to see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the rise and fall of his chest. “Maybe if you stopped micromanaging everyone, we’d get through this faster.”

His lips twitched into something like a sneer, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something cruel, something that would sting. But instead, he just scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath, “Whatever.”

I hated this. The constant back-and-forth, the biting comments, the way he got under my skin. It was exhausting, and yet, I couldn’t stop. There was something about Dino—something infuriating and magnetic, like we were stuck in this endless dance of tension, neither of us willing to give in.

The rest of practice passed in a blur, with Dino’s words ringing in my ears. I was distracted, my focus shattered. It didn’t help that every time I caught a glimpse of him, my heart did this stupid flip, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat faster in anger or something else entirely.

By the time rehearsal ended, I was done. My muscles ached, my head throbbed, and I just wanted to get out of there, away from him, away from this. But of course, fate had other plans.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the silence of the empty studio, and I froze, my hand hovering over the door. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him.

“What do you want, Dino?” I asked, my voice cold. Distant. It was easier that way.

“You’re still mad,” he said, not a question, just a statement, as if he already knew.

“I’m not mad,” I lied, my hand gripping the door handle tighter. “I just don’t want to deal with you right now.”

He laughed, a bitter sound that made something inside me clench. “Right. Because we’ve been getting along so well lately.”

I couldn’t help it. I turned then, my eyes narrowing as I faced him. “Maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time if you weren’t such an arrogant ass.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d crossed a line. But then he stepped forward, his gaze locked on mine, and the air between us felt charged, electric.

“Arrogant?” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous. “You think I’m the problem here?”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “You act like you know everything, like you’re always right, and it drives me insane.”

He was closer now, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it. Hated that he had this effect on me.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like I know everything if you weren’t so stubborn,” he shot back, his voice tight. “You never listen. You never let anyone help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can handle myself.”

“Right,” he muttered, his eyes flicking down to my lips for a split second before returning to mine. “Because you’ve been handling it so well.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to screw off, but the words caught in my throat. Because suddenly, everything—the anger, the frustration, the months of tension—it all came crashing down on me. And before I could stop myself, I reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, filled with all the things we’d been too afraid to say. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no rivalry, no frustration, just the feel of him against me, his lips on mine, and the overwhelming sense of relief that came with it.

But then reality came crashing back, and I shoved him away, my chest heaving. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Dino stared at me, his eyes wide, like he was just as shocked as I was. “You’re right,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Over the next few weeks, things between us shifted. The arguing didn’t stop—if anything, it got worse. Every conversation felt like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. But beneath all that anger, there was something else now. A heat, a pull that neither of us could ignore.

One night, after another particularly brutal rehearsal, I found him sitting alone in the studio, his head in his hands. Without thinking, I sat down next to him, the silence between us heavy.

“I’m tired,” I admitted quietly, breaking the tension. “Of fighting with you. Of pretending like I don’t—”

“Like you don’t care?” he finished, lifting his head to look at me, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it.

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. Like that.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just… I don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He glanced at me, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “You drive me crazy,” he admitted. “In the worst way. And the best way.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Dino…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “I don’t want to keep pretending like this is just… nothing.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. For the first time in months, there was no anger, no frustration, just the two of us, sitting in the aftermath of all the chaos we’d created.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine, and in that moment, everything clicked into place. All the fighting, all the tension—it was because we’d been running from this. From whatever this was between us.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself fall.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But for the first time, it felt real. And that was enough.

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            ‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[size-two-shrimp]

Screaming and crying and punching my computer monitor (I misremembered the lyrics to a song)

[mydr3aminvi0let]

i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

[orchideae]

Tag drop (1/2): General.

[moonlight-prose]

THE GRAVE OF LUST

a/n: this is a very random idea i had of logan not necessarily being able to go at it as he used to. which like yes i love the thought of getting my back snapped by a more energetic logan. this version of him has my heart in ways i'll never be able to explain. it's short but enjoy! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: when his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well.

OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he'll think about in the grave and after.

word count: 2k

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, weary old man logan, domestic vibes, oral (m receiving), spit kink, cumplay, dirty talk, he may be older but he's filthier, unedited + not betad but we live and die by the fucking pen.

He doesn't touch you quickly anymore. His hands don't shove clothes off your curves and grasp your flesh with a growl of impatience. No, he no longer holds the stamina of a younger him who could spend hours between your thighs. His bones are weary, old phantom wounds ache where they shouldn't, and he feels himself step closer to his grave with each day that passes.

His hands move at a steady pace, tugging the fabric of your nightgown up inch by inch. Sleep lingers at the edge of his mind. The knowledge that he'll have to get up early with the sun still hidden from the sky. Yet you'll be here asleep—dreaming of his calloused palms on your soft skin. How he burned himself into your ribs with a kiss.

"C'mere," he mumbled, eyes narrowed and lips parted with a deep withered breath. "Let me touch you."

Denial would be a false tale on your tongue. Depriving yourself of him wasn't an option anymore. When times like this were found few and far between and his touch became a lingering memory in the back of your mind.

You couldn't remember the last time you tasted him. The last time he sunk into your wet heat with a solid groan—the muscles of his back screaming as he held his body above yours.

Age was cruel to a man who used to be so virile. He could recall the hours he took to worship your body—mold you beneath the warmth of his palms. But doing that more often wasn't something he was capable of. He still longed for you. The sounds you made, the way your face twisted in pleasure as you came on his cock, fingers, face. He craved it some nights. He felt it eat him alive.

Tonight was no different.

"How?" you breathed, eyes wide and pleading.

You were so fucking sweet he didn't even have to convince you of this. So ready to let him bring you to that peak of bliss. He could smell the heady scent of your pussy—the way it called to him with shouts of need. And if he was a younger man...he'd have you pinned beneath him. He'd hammer his hips into yours until bruises formed beneath the skin—down into the very muscles of your legs.

His graying hair and weathered face did nothing to stop the lust that poured into your face. Your eyes still drooped, mouth open and chest heaving. And Logan was a fortunate fucking man that you were still here.

So unlike his younger self, he let you take the lead.

"Can I touch you?" you asked so nicely. He groaned at the sound of it, jutting his chin down in a nod as you grasped the button of his jeans.

Any other night you'd let him take you. Give into his languid touches until you came wherever he wanted you to come. This was a rarity the longer you spent bound together by the strings of fate.

Logan fucking loved it. He ached for it on days spent away from you—time he'd never get back. But when he'd find his way home and curl his body around yours, he found that sleep was a better option. You'd heartily agree. If it wasn't for the pounding ache between your thighs each time you caught his eye. Each chance you got to see the thick arms and sun kissed skin that lay beneath his white button downs.

"Been dreamin' about this." His voice echoed with a rasp you'd grown to love. One that screamed exhaustion, yet licked a line of heat up your spine. "Such pretty fuckin' lips."

His thumb dug into the curve of your bottom lip, pulling at it until your mouth popped open. Allowing his finger to press against your tongue—saliva building at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Of him using your throat to get himself off.

You didn't even care if you finished. You just wanted to feel him.

"You're my good girl right?" A moan spilled past your spread lips, eyes fluttering when his pants slipped down and cock came free. "Yeah you are."

"Logan," you sighed. He dragged your spit across your cheek; thumb and forefinger gripped your chin to tilt your head close enough to kiss him. Only to hold you there.

"Keep 'em open baby."

The feel of his length throbbing so close to your chest—precum dotting the tip—drove you mad. You wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the bruising ache at the back of your throat as he pushed too far. Your fingers wrapped around him gently, causing him to hiss at your cold touch. The reminder to take it slow, savor him, rang in your ears. Yet the way he looked at you with a feral hunger you felt in your heart shoved those thoughts to the side.

Within his life there's only been a handful of moments he wished he could go back to. Nearly all of them were with you on nights such as this. When the moon hung low in the sky and dawn felt eons away. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow, he'd get to wake up naked by your side and bury himself in your pretty cunt.

Logan was rarely lucky.

His spit landed on your tongue, splattering against the corner of your mouth. He led your mouth down with a firm grip until you hovered directly over his cock. The dark red at the tip made you clench around nothing—the ache spreading to the base of your stomach. Screaming for you to take it. Put your mouth on him and make him finish down your throat.

"There we go," he murmured, watching his spit and yours fall from your mouth—landing directly on his twitching cock. "Pretty ain't it."

"Yeah," you gasped, nails digging into the v of his hips. "Can I taste you? Please."

The deep echo of his laugh shot through your body like a bullet. You could feel it burrow deep within, spreading across each nerve ending and vein. Being so close to what you wanted felt like torture, but with Logan you knew it would be worth it in the end. He never left you wanting.

"'Course honey." His hand cupped the back of your neck, leading you with a soft touch. "It's yours."

Yours. Yours. Yours.

With a moan, you wrapped your lips around the head of him—tongue sliding through the slit. A ragged groan tore from his chest, his eyes boring a hole into the side of your face. The knowledge that he was so far gone for you left a pleasant thrill of warmth to grow in your stomach. This strong, capable man would bend at his knees simply to see you smile.

He was your devotee and you'd become his goddess.

"Fuckin' perfect." His words were a spit of need, fingers digging down into your skin with each flick of your tongue.

You merely held him there. In your mouth with spit coating the hand wrapped around the base of him. His taste flooded your mouth, each drop a nectar you would never have enough of. And he let you have your fill. He lay still on the bed, his breaths coupled with moans as you took your time.

Slipping him a bit deeper, you felt his thighs shift beneath you—a shuddered sigh echoing the small bedroom. You'd barely begun and yet he felt the high of dizziness begin to pull at his mind. Effectively killing whatever sleep called out to him.

"Take a little more for me." He sounded gone. Your lips spread into a smile, bobbing your head and swallowing a bit more with each small thrust. "Fuck yeah. Just like that."

He pushed at the back of your throat, your jaw strained under the width of him. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And he caught them with his thumb, mixing the salt with what spit of his still remained along your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you felt him slip down your throat—your nose finding the graying curls at his base.

The loud growl that ripped through his body was all the reward you needed. He was on the fucking edge. Barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. And he knew you could tell. His thighs jolted—stomach tensing—and when your hand slipped down to tug at his balls, thumb finding the spot between, he lost it.

Snarling your name, he thrust his hips up into your mouth and felt you choke on him. Your throat constricted perfectly with each cant of his hips down into you. He gave you the opportunity to push him off—get some air down your lungs. You let him keep going—eyes fixed on the way his face screwed up in pleasure. His teeth bared and throat extended.

Another push of your thumb sent him flying over the edge with a shout. The salty tang of him filled your mouth, spilling down your throat with rope after rope of cum. And you swallowed it all despite the searing burn that spread along your esophagus. You took every fucking drop of him and allowed some to remain on your tongue.

To prove that you could take whatever he wanted to give.

"I fuckin' love you," he breathed, cupping your jaw and grinning when you stuck out your tongue—a pool of his spend dripping down your chin.

His fingers scooped it out of your mouth before you could swallow. "Up." He slapped your ass, moving you up and into his lap. "Your turn."

"I’m okay."

The glare he gave you burned its way to your lungs. "Good girls get rewarded." His fingers dipped down beneath your nightgown—pleased to find you bare—and spread his cum along the lips of your pussy. "Don't you want your reward bub?"

"Yes," you whimpered, gripping at his hair. "I do."

"Then take it."

Refusing was no longer an option when the bliss you'd been searching for finally flared to life in your body. His fingers plunged into you, curling and seeking the spot he always found with ease. And with a sharp gasp—your hand yanking at his hair—he knew he'd found it. He smiled at the sight of you. Head back and eyes shut as you fucked yourself on his hand.

"Tell me," he said. Gripping your chin, his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. He could taste himself in your mouth. His chest rumbled with a soft sigh.

"I love you." The base of his hand ground into your clit, fingers pounding up quicker—faster. And your words pitched high with each thrust.

"I know you do." He kissed your throat, the heat of your body rubbing against his made his cock twitch in interest again. "Love you too baby."

"Fuck!" The coil in your stomach began to unravel rapidly, your body shattering into pieces you'd never find again. And he clutched you tightly to his chest. He watched in rapture at the sight of you shaking, hips bucking against his hand in quick thrusts. "Logan."

Pride bloomed in his chest. "You're perfect."

You collapsed onto his bare chest, spent and exhausted. The final tendrils of pleasure began to ebb out of your body, suddenly replaced by the comfort of him there. You pressed your lips to the center of his chest, teeth dragging along the scarred skin. And he basked in your attention—his hand trailing down your spine to knead the flesh of your ass.

"We should do that more often," you teased, lips finding his in a soft kiss.

He huffed, his eyes falling shut. "I'm too old for that."

"Believe it or not, but you're sexier older."

"Yeah?" He stirred against your stomach. "You like me old and gray?"

"Absolutely."

He smirked, pushing you up his body with slow movements. "Prove it."

[cntloup]

Ex-Husband!Simon takes you to the hospital after he saves you from your abusive partner

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He grits his teeth together and clenches the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as the words leave your mouth, explaining what happened to you all this time.

You make it to the hospital in under 10 minutes although he still maintained a safe speed and remained focused for your safety. 

They admit you quickly and he stays by your side, holding your hand and cooing praises in your ear while they tend to your wounds and you squeeze his hand as you wince and whine out of pain. 

“It’s ok, love. They're nearly done. You're doing so well.” he whispers against your temple on your uninjured side and softly kisses your skin. 

They finish patching you up and tell you that you should stay for the night due to a mild concussion. 

He sits on a chair by your bed while resting his head on the edge of the bed and holding your hand all throughout the night. 

In the morning, he wakes up with a stiff neck, but the only thing that matters to him is that you’re safe. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, still slightly dizzy and confused as he helps you get inside the car. 

“You’re staying with me, dove.” he responds. 

The car ride to his place is quiet as your mind is still foggy. 

You softly take his hand in yours and place it on your thigh, needing to feel his touch in order to make sure he’s truly there and it’s not all just a dream. 

He feels his breath hitch in his throat, trying so hard to keep his focus on the road.

“You really saved me, Si. Thank you.” you mumble as if in disbelief that he really showed up, your knight in shining armor. 

You've been dreaming about him saving you for so long and now that it’s finally happened, it feels like a dream. 

“ ‘course, love. What? You thought that I would leave you with that monster?” he retorts, eyebrows furrowed. 

“It’s just that... we haven’t even been talking for such a long time. I started to feel like you were so far away. Out of my reach. You know?” you respond in a soft voice. 

It makes his heart crumble in his chest to hear you say that. He knows exactly how you felt all this time. 

“Well I’m here now, luv. And I’m not going anywhere. As in... if you’ll have me of course.” he remarks, slightly shaking his head at himself, nearly spilling out all he wanted to tell you all this time. 

But it’s not the right moment yet. You need time to heal first. 

“Ok, Mr. Riley.” you say, a loving smile dancing on your lips as your beautiful face shines in the morning sunlight. 

He nearly crashes the car as he turns to look at you.

The first smile you gave him since he saw you. 

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

And my, my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden.

Warnings: 18+, mdni! there will be smut in the future chapters. enemies to lovers, 'she fell first, he fell harder' kind of trope, allusions to unrequited love, mentions of death, injuries, allusions to self hatred, mentions of bullying, this story is set post s4, Vecna and the upside down are gone. slow burn. ‘hate’ sex. fwb kinda thing but they’re ‘enemies’. mean!reader, mean!Steve, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

♡

Prologue ⭐︎

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I’m not around

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Chapter five ⭐︎'Cause you know it could never be

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Chapter nine ⭐︎ And I'll show you if you let me, girl

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Chapter eleven ⭐︎ Yeah, I know it seems surprising when there’s lipstick still on the glass

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Chapter thirteen ⭐︎ For a moment, I was heaven struck

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around?

Chapter sixteen ⭐︎ Hold me, love me, touch me, honey

Chapter seventeen ⭐︎ What am I supposed to do? If there's no you.

Chapter eighteen ⭐︎ Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Chapter nineteen ⭐︎ For you, I would ruin myself, a million little times

Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Chapter twenty one ⭐︎ Please, I've been on my knees, change the prophecy

Chapter twenty two ⭐︎ Let the world around us just fall apart

Chapter twenty three ⭐︎ And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me

Chapter twenty four ⭐︎ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

The Epilogue ⭐︎

[intoxicated-chan]

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.

[dropsnectar]

Courting a Queen: Bee Hybrid × Reader Part Two

Hey! So a lot of you wanted the Bee smut, so, here it is! I'm still new to writing smut so please be kind. Also, in @bunnis-monsters universe of Bee Hybrids, its mentioned that they have different types of Honey that have different properties and effects, so I wanted to play with that a little. Also just a reminder that I headcannon that the queen scouting drones are a bit more intelligent than other bee hybrids,, as this works better to lure in a queen! Hope you enjoy!

Everything had happened so quickly, you didn't know quite what to do or think. 

You'd just been talking and having fun with a few Bee Hybrids, now suddenly suddenly you were in their hive, they were calling you Queen, and it was getting really hard to talk your way out of this when you had so many tongues on your skin--

“Y-You guys I can't become your… oh God um… there's no way I can become a queen!” You tried your best to gently pull yourself out of their grasp, but the little nibbles Haven was doing on your ear were way too distracting. Elias answered you.

“We know you'd be great. Please dont be mean to yourself.” He pouted at you with big eyes as he worked on pulling down your black leggings. He carefully lifted your thighs as he did so and you noticed that his skin, while smooth and soft, also had a sort of firmness to it that human skin didn't. It made your core burn. 

“Are we doing something wrong? Please tell us my Queen, we only want to make you feel good.” Another hand was slowly exploring up your shirt. You looked over at Ray, the black haired hybrid who was staring at you with the biggest, mooniest eyes, like he was a dog begging for a treat. He trailed his hands up and down your belly, his hands were more beelike than the others, and the foreigners of it gave you goosebumps. 

Stop it! You can't become Queen! You'd never leave this place!

“I can't do this.” You finally managed, pulling away from Haven and Ray's grasp.

“I have a home. And a job and…”

And not much else. Your parents weren't the kindest, and you only ever saw your friends once every two months. If they remembered you that was.

Elias gently took one of your hands in his. “This can be your home! We would feed you and do whatever you want! You'll never be lonely again. Please. We've been so long without a Queen and…” His antennas drooped. So Did Haven and Rays, their exuberant wings going quiet.

“ We will die soon. Without a Queen our hive will grow weak, and other hives will fight us for our home territory.” Ray leaned his head gently on my shoulder, a whine escaping his chest.

Haven started to tear up. At least, he seemed to cry. “ We need you. We will never stop loving you, and you would never want for anything, please let us keep you.”

Your heart grew heavy. You didn't know much about bees, but you were aware that Queens were super important for the health of the hive. You had only known them for a day, but you couldn't bear the thought of them dying. They were so incredibly sweet after all.

Maybe I could try it for a little bit. I mean, being a Queen couldn't be so bad. You reasoned. And if it becomes too much, I could maybe help them find a new one. Or run away in the night, maybe.

“I'll… give it a try.” 

The three of them were in the air at once, pulling on your limbs and jumping up and down. Haven got up and did what seemed like a little happy dance, Elias joining in. While Ray continues to hold onto you and nuzzle you in large excited motions. You watched the two dancing and clapped happily. They buzzed loudly, seeming pleased with your smile and sudden lifted mood. They could feel your affection for them in the air and it bode well.

At that time, the bee-man that Elias had pulled aside earlier knocked on the door, before buzzing in with a cup of something sweet. Well, the whole place smelled sweet, but you noticed steam coming up from the cup. You tilted your head in confusion.

“He added some warm water to help you get it down easier! Your human after all, so thick things may be hard to drink, right?” Elias smiled and handed you the warm little cup. It smelled… well. Like honey. But their was a little heat to it. Maybe cinnamon? Nutmeg?

“Its super special, just for you!” Haven volunteered, as he settled back down to his place on your back left. He busied himself with rubbing your shoulder, then kissing the back of your head sweetly. 

All of this attention was making your cheeks rosy. To busy yourself you took an experimental sip of the warm honey. It went easily from your tongue down your throat. Expecting the taste of normal honey, you were surprised by the variety of notes. Still sweet, it indeed had a hefty… spice to it? Like it had been salted and mixed with a little chilli pepper. The heat of it spread from your throat, through your head and your body, making you shiver.

It was a feeling similar to hot chocolate on a long day out in the snow. Delighted, you slurped it down greedily. Ray laughed and the other two hybrids seemed very pleased. They watched you drink the whole cup, pride and their ever present excitement alight on every feature. 

You gave the cup back to Elias and smiled dreamily. You finally felt relaxed enough and tried to lie back on the couch, instead ending up in Ray and Havens arms. 

“That was really good.” You almost whispered. You were still warm from drink, and a haziness had softly draped itself over your brain. Soft. Warm. 

 Probably tired from a long day, you thought with a giggle. What a silly day it had been. What a silly situation.

Elias set the cup down on a table towards the door and floated toward you, a hungry look in his eye. Ray had decided to lap at your jaw now, making you shiver, again marveling at the strange texture his tongue had. Almost like a cat but smoother? Somehow? It felt good. 

The room was filled with pleasant buzzing and purring, as several pairs of hands started working your skin. Haven was now exploring the inside of your shirt, pulling excitedly at your bra. He felt around for a little bit, trying to find the latch. You noticed, through a big mirror by the door that his tongue was sticking out the whole time. You giggled. So cute.

A sudden nip to your inner thigh made you jolt. Elias had made his place between your thighs again and had started licking and nipping to getting your attention. He pouted at you until you gave him full eye contact.

“I'll get to breed you first, since I found you.” Elias said in the most innocent tone you almost didn't comprehend it. Until he was licking at your clothed cunt with his long black tongue. You whined a bit, in surprise and pleasure. It felt good. 

Haven must have figured out your bra because suddenly you felt fingers on your chest now. They moved around haphazardly, watching your face for a reaction. When one found your nipple you bit your lip and pried your gaze away from Elias for an instant. Havens face lit up in a smile.

“ Can I take this off, my Queen?” He asked in his delicate textured voice. You nodded and lifted your arms for them. A sudden jolt pulled your gaze back down to Elias, who was pouting at you. He had pulled your underwear aside and had started licking fervently between your lips. Those big, adoring eyes did as much to you as his tongue and you moaned out.

You were suddenly ablaze now, your core dripping and needy. It was sudden, and your hazy mind tried to work out how they'd got you gushing so fast. They were obviously new at this, reaching around trying to find your best spots, but you needed more. 

“T-take them off, please.” You begged Elias quietly, as your breath was quite ragged. Elias complied happily. You opened your legs wider for him, and he was able to push your lips apart farther so he could get a look at you. Enchanted, he took a finger and drew circles around you, noting when and where you would flinch, and jerk your hips. After experimenting a bit more he decided to suck on your most sensitive place: Your clit.

You howled out as he sucked and licked you, the texture of his tongue so different from anything you'd felt before. 

Haven and Ray were buzzing so loudly as the licked you, groping your sweet tummy, and sucking where they could. Ray had decided on sucking and when you sang for him, he started trilling with glee. Seeing this, Haven did the same. Their hands continued to roam.

The sucking of your tits and the attention on your clit were getting you close. The pressure in your stomach was mounting, and when Elias had decided to move two of his delicate fingers into your entrance you came hard around him, full body quaking. Drool pooled down your face as you gasped, stars filling your vision. 

“ Such a good Queen, coming for us so well.” Praised Ray, before he went back to assaulting your nipple with his tongue. Haven giggled and buzzed in agreement.

When you came down from your high, you were surprised to find yourself still wanting, wriggling, your skin so sensitive and desperate for more touch that you bucked yourself back into Elias’ face. The confusion persisted and you were about to ask a question when Elias answered.

“Don't worry, Our Love, we made sure you'd feel good enough to take all of us. Our honey truly is special. You won't feel any pain, we promise!”

The honey'd been… an aphrodisiac?

Something about that should have bothered you but all you could think about was having something inside you. Of wanting more of their touch, more more more-

You chocked as Haven started rubbing your clit, the sweet pressure bringing you some relief. Elias was taking his human clothing off now, revealing his lower half. His cock was long. Long, but super pretty and pink. You licked your lips as he lined it up with your wet entrance. His big, clear eyes stared at you with such devotion it bordered on worship, before he plunged himself within your needy walls.

You cried out, and it was like a wave of pleasure crashed through the room, as everyone sighed. He started slow, working himself further and further inside you as he went. The stretch and rhythm felt so good, you tried to work in time with him. His length was slick and warm and being so close to him only made your affection grow. You couldn't help it.

Ray and Haven were moaning in your ear. They were still sucking your tits, but were humping whatever bit of you they could, desperate and needy.

You wanted to help them but each stroke Elias was working in you felt so good your mind couldn't think properly. You stayed like that for a while, Elias hitting your best spots, sending you closer and closer to your limit, before he seemed to come, hard, a guttural sound leaving his throat. 

But instead of feeling hot, wet cum, you felt something push against your walls. A ridge was forming inside of you, pushing up through his member. The stretch was delicious and you keened as another traced its way up your walls. A sudden soft wetness, and a heaviness was felt at the innermost part of you. You'd never felt anything like it before and your walls twitched around it. An egg.

Your mind raced back to an earlier comment. You'd completely forgotten about the eggs. But your mind was so gone all you could do was whine at the tightness, as another was laid in you, and you came again, another wave of pleasure racking your mind and body. 

It went on like this, him laying one after the other, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. You could tell Elias was getting utterly spent, his rocking movements slowing, the erratic flaps of his wings getting more labored. Drool continued to pool out of his mouth. His heavy meaningful gaze was now glassy and tired. You wanted to hold him. 

When the last egg was laid within you, Ray took his place in a flash. As Elias took his spot on your right, lazily sucking on your collarbone, Ray pushed himself in fully in one go. His dick was thicker, and not as long as Elias’, but it felt amazing around the eggs. 

“My turn. You'll take my clutch so well, I know it.” He reassured, rubbing his thumb like limbs on your hips as he slowly rutted into you. He was whispering praises about your beauty and how well you were doing the whole time. The stretch of his dick felt so good as he fucked the eggs further into you, adding his own. He was quicker than Elias to lay though. His eggs were much bigger, making you sputter a bit as you took them. It seemed that Bee-men came continuously as they laid their spawn, because he was a glassy eyed, babbling mess the whole time he pushed more into you. 

Haven took the longest time to lay, despite fucking you the fastest and hardest of the three. He giggled, so happy and pussydrunk the whole time. 

“My Queen, it feels so good. Am I making you feel good?”

“So good,” you confirmed through shaggy breaths.  “So good. My good boy.” You could feel a shock throughout the room and Haven smiled so big through his sweaty curls, that you couldn't help but return it. His hips rocked into you faster now, though he was still careful of your eggs.

The other two pouted, making crying vibrating sounds. “My good boys.” You corrected. “Doing so well.” you were so close to cumming again it was hard to think, but you reached both hands up to caress them both. Consoled, they clung to you even tighter, as if that was possible, whispering praises back. You were such a good queen, taking so many eggs. So good and sweet. 

Their words brought you over the edge at the same time Haven let out a loud trilling sound. He collapsed forward onto your lap, licking at your now extended belly. You both shook, riding out your high.

The room smelled of sweat, and their saccharine aroma. You realized you'd become a bit addicted to the scent, nuzzling closer into the soft fur of your new family. 

You lay there for a time, letting your bee-men fuss over you. They wiped the sweat from your body and cooed at your stomach, at how adorable you were being so full, and taking so many eggs. 

“Our lovely Queen. Did so well for you first mating.” Elias had glowed with pride for you, then  nuzzled into your neck in that way of his. “The rest of the hive is just going to love you. But for now, rest.” He petted soft loving strokes down your forehead. The motion was soothing, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you.

Before you completely lost consciousness, you heard a worried Haven whisper, “I hope she makes us her attendants. It'd be such a shame to only see her when its our turn to mate.” You felt some nodding onto your shoulder and buzzing of agreement. You'd have to remember to ask them about it when you awoke.

Hey guys! Was this too long? Would love some constructive feedback about what you'd like to see more of! Thank you for reading!

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