#I really thought those girls had something going on for a second there

[lomlando]

20 Questions

summary: one would think a rookie driver's biggest fear starting the new season would be the races themselves, clearly they have never been tasked with making new friends with people who are supposed to be their rivals.

content warnings: mild language :)!

word count: 1.5k

pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader

SERIES: Messy || may be confusing if read as a standalone one shot!

You look in the mirror one last time before finally committing to standing up and zipping up the last little bit of your race overalls. Today was the day-your first media day as an F1 driver. You got a late start into racing, starting at age 19, after one of your friends took you to their karting track. You were instantly hooked, and instantly somehow good at it. You moved up the ranks quickly. No one could believe that you had only been racing for 3 years. It finally felt like you had found your purpose. 

Fast forward to now, your f1 rookie season with Mercedes felt like it was officially beginning for real today. You exit the room and make your way down the hallway to the end room on the left, just like you had been told to do 15 minutes prior. You pause just outside the door, not ready to fully commit to making your presence known just yet. 

This was the part of the job you were dreading the most. Not the media necessarily-you felt as though you could talk to a camera all day long, as if it was just like talking to yourself. It was meeting other drivers for the first time that made you nervous. The only girl on the grid, what will they think? How will they treat me? Will they be stand-offish, not wanting to create a scandal? Will they treat me like I’m made of porcelain? All of these thoughts were things you didn’t know you needed to consider-until you finally met your teammate Kimi. Kimi is so sweet-which unfortunately means it took months for him to stop treating you like you were going to be broken if he even breathed too hard in your direction. It all came to a head when you realized he was purposefully not overtaking you in your team practices. 

“Kimi, what the fuck, did you really just slam on breaks to avoid overtaking me?”

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, you know, cause an accident.”

“But you have with your prior teammates. I am no different.” 

“But I-”

“No buts Kimi. I’m wearing the same protective gear you are. Our cars are regulated the same way. I know this comes from a good place in your heart, that you’re scared of hurting a girl. But seriously, grow a pair and ram into me, or you are going to lose every single time to me.”

And that conversation changed our dynamic completely. Since then, it's been cut-throat between us on the track, best friends off it. It’s almost like he needed me to give him permission that he could treat me the same way he treated George or Ollie, or any of his other friends on the grid. You don’t know how many of those conversations you could have, though. Is it too much to wish it would be understood from the get-go. 

You shake your head, hoping the anxiety’s go away and peer into the neon lit room. Five different cameras line the floor, around 20 people move about, yelling across the room, attempting to make the whole operation a smooth one. In the middle of the room stood a small bar table and two bar chairs sitting to either side of it. On the table were stacks of what looked like flash cards. What were you getting yourself into today? 

Finally, you walk in, not saying anything, just taking in the first day of your new life. Within seconds, the head producer grabs you by the arm. 

“So excited to finally meet you! Having a girl in the grid has been something I have wanted for years now! I’m Alex, head producer of YouTube content for the F1 channel. Have you been briefed on what is happening today?” Alex leads you to the bar table and pulls out the chair for you, motioning for you to sit down. 

“Oh no, I haven’t.” You say as she looks at you.

“Oh, sorry, oversight on my part. So, you know, we had you fill out that questionnaire, and one of the questions was “What drivers are you friends with off the track?” You couldn’t forget that question. You filled out the questionnaire with Kimi one day after practice. You remember looking over at him, answering this question, wondering if you should write his first name or simply Kimi, that’s when you saw his blank space was full of names. Meanwhile, yours only had a small “Kimi” written in the long blanks. “Okay, so we paired all of you up with another driver you didn’t already know. Fans are going to love it, I think. Oh, right, you’ll be playing 20 questions together, sorry, left out that part getting too excited. We are also going to go ahead and start the camera. We are letting every driver guess who they think they are going to be paired up with today. Correct answers get an extra point in Grill the Grid since we know how competitive you all are!” 

Your heart sank, sure, you knew you were meeting at least one driver today-but you didn’t think it would be one-on-one like this. The worst part, how were you even going to guess another driver, you didn’t know anyone. Frankly, it felt a little unfair, you only had a 1/18 chance while everyone else’s was more like 10/19. 

“Okay, we are rolling.” Alex’s voice brought you back to reality. “So, any guesses as to who you may be paired with today?”

You thought about it a little more, it would likely be a driver who had a lot of friends, everyone would put them, which would bring them down to you. Names raced through your mind-George Russel, Max, Lando, Charles. Had to be one of them. 

“Um, I really don’t know. I could be anyone except for Kimi.”

“You know what, you’re right. We’ll let you pick two names, level the playing field for you a little bit.” Alex said, flashing you a smile. 

“Norris and Russel?” You said without even really thinking about the names exiting your mouth. Before Alex could even say anything, someone burst through the door. 

“Shit guys, sorry I’m so late. Traffic was awful.” Lando Norris. 

Kimi loves Lando. Talks about him all of the time, really. Always mentioning how nice of a person he is. Constantly retelling all of the crazy party stories they seem to share. Gushing about how he's a great driver with great strategies. 

“Lando you’re fine. We were just filming a little intro.” As Alex is talking, Lando instinctively moves into the room and into the chair across from you. “This is who you’ll be paired with today. Are you both ready?” Alex asks as she sinks back into her chair. You both nod your heads.

You honestly aren’t sure how much time has passed. So far, production has been halted three different times, now four, because either Lando or you had started laughing so hard it brought you to tears. You were sure you had to be at least 40 questions in, despite the stack of cue cards you both still held in your hands. Somewhere along the way, one question would snowball into another, and another until Alex had to remind you both you had questions in front of you to get through. 

“God what number question are we even on?” Lando says while trying to keep his composure together. 

“Ten. You guys are only on question ten.” Alex says as she looks down at her watch. “We have been filming for over an hour already. We are gonna need more camera cards at this rate.” 

You can’t say you are surprised you and Lando had been filming for an hour already. You had both been talking nonstop since he sat down opposite of you. You had learned that you were alike in so many ways, but also different. You both agreed that sushi was awful, but proceeded to have a heated debate on whether cats or dogs were better. You shared embarrassing stories from your childhood years. 

“Okay Lando, maybe we should get through these next ten questions quickly. God, the editor is going to hate us.” You say stifling a laugh. 

“Yeah, agreed. Okay. Question ten. What driver do you want to become friends with this year?” 

Somehow you and Lando get through the next ten questions within 15 minutes, both trying your hardest not to ask twenty followup questions to each other. 

“Cut! Great job guys, you definitely gave our editors a lot of material to work with. I’ll see you both next week for more filming.” Alex says as she gathers the cards from the table. “You’re both free to go now.” 

Lando stood up quickly, gave you both a little nod and smile, and walked out of the room.

next chapter! : Oh!

[vampmira]

in control – (that's how i like it and i'm never letting go)

huntrix looked up to their k/da seniors as role models – even believing they were hunters for some time ! when your new album comes out with song much darker than their usual sound, they're intrigued by the lyric credits.

pairing(s): huntrix x k/da!demon!reader

warnings(s): n/a

request | a/n: takes place a bit after the movie ! my lore knowledge of k/da isn't the greatest so this is more about you and huntrix 😭

k/da fans everywhere loved their girls equally, from their powerful queen to their badass maknae. one of the best things about stanning a multi-talented group was seeing one of the members consistently in the production and lyric credits. their one and only, the oldest member of k/da, the most talented writer ever – dae dahlia (대 달이아).

blades always complimented your stagename and how fitting it was! you were their amazing flower, blooming whenever you were up on stage. as mysterious yet beautiful as a flower, you acted as k/da's all-rounder member – mastering dance and rap like it was your second sense. however, you bloomed best when it came to your lyric writing and the meanings you had in each song.

but there was barely any information about you when POP/STARS came out – you were a new face to the industry! they knew your mbti and birthday from your member announcement post, of course, but they needed a fancall to learn your name – your REAL name! they wondered... who were you really?

you were always.. different than the other demons

for example, they'd complain about gwima's constant whispers and you just stare at them like .. "?? what whispers?"

you were always interested in human things – their cultures, food, friendship, music

it captivated you, even to the point where you started to stop taking souls as you grew empathy for their lives

eventually, you decided to escape and join the human world, enjoying life unlike any demon's ever experienced before !!

it's actually how you met k/da in the first place, through some auditions with ahri

she interviewed you personally, figuring out what you wanted out of this experience, until you admitted you just wanted to write music. she looked into the messy papers you scratched on since you had appeared on the surface. they were in korean, but a strange dialect of korean that seemed old – ancient. some lines were stale, copied from the radio or some songs her seniors had sang before until she got to the paper furthest in the back.

i'm alive, but i'm dead?

listen to my voice in your hear my voice crawling in your ear up in your head??? i regret it all now note: that's dumb

watch it fill you full of dread until you go (grrra pow!)

it caught her attention – your intelligible writings and mysterious margin drawings. combined with your question answers being fascinated with life as if you had never lived before, claiming a lack of proper training but being a natural dancer and singer, and your far away look as if you were thinking of another life that was centuries old, she couldn't put her finger on it but.. you intrigued her. enough to get a second interview. then a trainee card. and eventually, a debut date.

you were put together in the final lineup of k/da as their producer and sub rapper officially

but you did a little bit of everything – leading to your label as the all-rounder

even sharing your lyrics with them blew them away everytime, and you took incredible time recording demos behind the scenes

in fact, your stage name came from your past

it came from 달아나다 (dal-a-na-da), meaning to run away from something undesirable – like your life under gwima

but you had something solid now – this idol life, friends who loved you, and adorable fans !

but one late night in the studio, you had a thought plaguing you

why be free on the surface but secretive to your closest friends ? it broke your heart, keeping your secret from those you loved the most

so, you admitted your past to them, revealing your marks to them and everything

you feared it would change everything between you .. but you didn't want to hide anything from them any longer

but it had been so long since you met that they knew they could trust that you had changed

and they took it upon themselves to protect your image at all costs

and they always reassured you that they'd always love you – whenever you needed it

akali even came up with the idea to say that your markings were tattoos you got in celebration of your debut since they were similar to her jacket in POP/STARS – which made you giggle

and when you started to reveal them more to fans, a fellow girl group took a major notice

"RUMIIIII!!" a high pitched squeal came as hands blasted against rumi's door. when the purple haired leader opened her door, her fellow members pressed their phones into her face immediately. "did you see k/da's comeback photoshoot!?"

"no? i didn't know it was out already!" rumi was actually the biggest fan of k/da in huntrix. she'd always talk about you being her major influences when it came to seniors she looked up to. she would've pulled out her own phone to look, but the look in mira's face started to worry her. "you two don't.. look excited." they shared a look before showing her your photos – arms out and markings wrapping your arms like vines. it was the most skin you ever really showed, and now? they understood why. "she's.."

"a demon, too." mira spoke the quiet part aloud. rumi looked down at her own arms where her markings sparkled from the effects of the honmoon. lots of thoughts went through her head. you were her bias, after all. were.. you just like her? part demon and forced to hide it all this time? "do you guys think she's.. yknow.. like the sajas?"

"no!" rumi's voice came out more surprised than she meant it to. she cleared her throat. "no.. we.. we shouldn't get the wrong idea. what if.. she's like me? or.. like jinu?" there was a shared silence between the three at the mention of his name, before a notification came up on zoey's phone.

"guys? their new ep just dropped."

when villain came out , everyone was stunned by the darker lyrics

you went to ahri with the old lyrics that impressed her back in 2018

you dug into your memory – your history with the life you hid away and finally finished those lyrics

your members took a lot of care in following your demo exactly to carry out the story you wanted to carry out through "villain"

even in the music video, you were listed as one of the creative directors

there you go, k/da's all-rounder <3

much like the concept video, the mv was mostly shrouded by shadows – representing how you had put that past behind you

you were even surrounded by chains and were trying follow small flickers of light like you were trying to escape the dark, even though you sang like you were cocky and proud

until the very end when you preformed the final chorus in the sunrise, owning your past and acknowledging how you've changed like how the night changes into the day

at least .. that's what you've explained in interviews

huntrix were more in awe of you than before

the story you carried out was analyzed by fans everywhere and huntrix understood what you conveyed perfectly

to the point that they just HAD to know more from you specifically

in the building of the inkigayo music show, you sat on the iconic stairs, posing as your fellow member, evelynn, bent over to get your best angles before she was called for makeup. the second she waved to leave, the clicking of excited heels came up towards you. you bowed, the trio scrambling to do the same.

"um.. let us introduce ourselves!" the girls beside her lined up as they made a cross pattern with their 4-shaped fingers. "2, 3 – don't miss! hello, we are huntrix!"

"ah, huntrix! congratulations on your comeback." your acknowledgement made them giddy.

"thank you, 선배님 (sunbaenim/senior)!!" the purple haired one giggled. "um, i'm rumi! this is zoey and mira," the two waved with uncontained giddiness at their individual mentions, "and we're just.. huge fans! and we actually uh.. had a question for you.. about your tattoos." you cocked your head at them, hands instinctively going to touch your arms. rumi slid her jacket down off her arm, revealing rainbow shimmering marks – much like yours. your eyes met in a kind of ... soft acknowledgement. one full of vulnerability and empathy.

your staff called you back for makeup at the worst time

you two exchanged numbers immediately before having to go on stage and await your score reveal

it was strange meeting someone else like you up here

you felt seen, yet sympathetic for what rumi might have gone through

she didn't tell you her story, but you knew it was hard

but huntrix cheered extra loud when they announced that your comeback knocked SPF100 out of the park <3

you always knew your music touched listeners worldwide, but you never thought someone would get your true message until rumi

after the awards, you and huntrix decided to meet up as soon as possible

you were invited to their penthouse that weekend

they never told you how they scrambled to clean up for the entire 24 hours before you showed up though

you three talked for hours, sharing stories and feeling heard by someone else for the first time in a long time

especially rumi .. you noticed how she would always stare at your marks

when you described your escape from gwima, they told you how brave you are

and, affectionately, how awesome their senior is <33

"wow.. so you literally crawled out of hell. cool." mira stared at you from the other side of the couch, those normally dark eyes sparkling with awe.

"super cool!!" zoey piped up. "that must've been so scary!! have a lot of demons wanted to leave? or.. were you the first? did you have friends that wanted to come with? do demons have friends? was there–" the pillow that hit her arm cut her off, a glairing look and a nervous smile coming from her leader. you smiled reassuringly.

"sorry about all the questions. we've just never.. talked to someone about this before." she rubbed her hands across her arms. you leaned forward, your hands on hers as she looked up at you. your markings blended with hers. you smiled comfortingly.

"and you think i have?" you sighed. "my members barely know my old life because it was so hard to explain. you all know about demons and hunters, gwima and the honmoon – trying to explain it all to them makes me sound like i'm crazy. this is as healing for me as it is for you... i'm just glad i can be a resource for.. my younger sisters." you chuckled. rumi held your hands gently.

"...thank you for letting us talk with you, 선배님 (sunbaenim/senior)."

"please, call me 언니 (unnie/older sister). and.. my real name." you kept it secret from the public, in fear gwima would send your fellow demons after you to bring you back. your k/da sisters only ever called you by your name off camera to protect you, as well. dahlia was your stage now as much as it was your cover name. now? this trio was sitting around you comfortingly, your heart getting deja vu from when you met your own members. that feeling of a new home.

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [19]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: angst

wc: 3108

Chapter 19: Watch My Heart Burn

The second the door closed behind Matt, the air shifted. It was like the whole apartment went quiet. 

I didn’t want him to go—not just because I loved him, but because now I was truly alone.

Noah still wasn’t looking at me. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his jaw locked, body angled away like he couldn’t even stand to be near me.

“Noah…” I said quietly. My voice barely carried across the room, but I knew he heard it. I could feel the sting building behind my eyes again, that familiar ache I’d been trying to fight off all night.

He didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

I took a shaky breath, stepping closer. “Noah.”

Still, nothing. His silence was louder than if he’d screamed at me again. 

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen like this. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Finally, he turned. Just slightly. Enough for me to see his face—tired, angry, and worst of all, hurt.

“You didn’t want to tell me,” he said, voice cold. “That’s the difference.”

I felt the tears break past my lashes, but I nodded anyway, because maybe he was right, maybe I was just scared.

Scared of losing Matt and him. 

“Noah, I love him,” I whispered. “I didn’t lie to hurt you.”

He scoffed, eyes sharp. “Yeah, well, it did.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely holding steady.

“Noah,” I said again, gentler this time. “Is this… about Mom and Dad too?”

He flinched.

His shoulders tensed, and I saw his jaw twitch before he turned away again, running a hand through his hair.

I blinked fast, trying to keep the tears at bay. “You can’t keep blaming me for that.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly—but it didn’t sound convincing. He turned back toward me, eyes red-rimmed but furious. “I don’t blame you for the accident, Daphne. Not really. But do you know what it’s like to be seventeen and suddenly have to raise your little sister? While you screamed and cried and begged me to make it stop and I had no idea how?”

I stared at him, frozen.

“I didn’t even get to grieve,” he continued, voice cracking now. “Because I was too busy holding you together. I missed college tours. I stayed here. I gave up so much—and I’d do it all again, because you’re my sister. But don’t stand there and act like I don’t get to be angry sometimes.”

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks now. I didn’t even try to stop them.

“I never asked you to give all that up,” I said quietly. “I never wanted you to.”

“But I did!” he snapped. “Because I had to. Because we didn’t have anyone else. And now, all these years later, you go behind my back with him? My best friend? And you think this doesn’t reopen everything?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” I whispered. “I just…”

I didn't really know what to say. 

His expression cracked for a moment, like he was about to say something, but didn’t.

He shook his head and looked away, jaw clenched tight.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” he said finally. “That you didn’t trust me… or that you thought I wouldn’t want you to be happy.”

I took a small step toward him.

“Noah…” I whispered. “I do trust you. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Noah raked a hand through his hair, frustration spilling over.

He glanced at me, then turned his gaze away, his jaw tightening.

"After everything—the trial, what he did to you—I just thought you'd end up with someone... safer."

His voice wavered slightly at the end, like even admitting it cost him something.

I looked down. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to decide what safe looks like for me.”

He laughed bitterly. “Daph, I was there. I fought for you. I sat through those court hearings. I watched you fall apart for months. You couldn’t even look at another guy.”

“Noah,” I said, quietly but firmly, “you fought for me in court. You fought everyone but me. You never asked me how I was actually doing. Not once.”

He blinked, as if I’d slapped him. “That’s not fair, Daphne.”

“It’s the truth,” I said. “You helped get Carter in jail, but you were never my brother at that moment. You never sat beside me just to ask if I was okay.”

Noah’s face twisted, as if my words hit somewhere raw. 

“How can you say that?” he snapped. “Do you even know how hard that year was for me? I was trying to juggle my first year of law school while fighting your case, while making sure that bastard got locked up. I was doing everything I could!”

My stomach churned, and the anger I had been holding back started to rise.

 “Yeah? And what about me, Noah?” My voice cracked as I stepped forward. “What about what I went through?”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“You never asked if I was okay. Not once.” The words poured out like water breaking through a dam. “You were fighting for me in court, yeah—but no one was fighting for me in here.” I placed my hand over my heart. “I was falling apart, and nobody even looked. I lost all my friends. Everyone thought I was weird for being quiet all of a sudden. Everything changed, I changed—and you didn’t even notice.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Tears burned in my eyes. “I was sad, Noah. I was so damn sad. And I felt like I had to carry it alone, while everyone applauded you for going to a prestigious school.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I let out a shaky breath.

“You know what? I wouldn’t have studied in London if it wasn’t for my guidance counselor stepping in at the last minute,” I said, my voice low but full of something sharp. “She saw how messed up I was. She chased after me, and wrote my reference letter herself because no one else did or cared. Not even you.”

Noah’s face fell, and for a second, I almost felt bad. Almost.

“I was surviving, Noah. Barely.”

My voice cracked. “I needed you. As my brother.”

Noah’s shoulders sank. His voice was lower now, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know how to talk about that stuff with you,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. “It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say—what if I said the wrong thing? I didn’t want to make it worse.”

I stared at him, my arms folded tightly across my chest. “Well, yeah,” I said quietly. “Welcome to my world. I’ve been uncomfortable with myself for years, Noah.”

He looked up at me slowly.

“I couldn’t even look at my own reflection without feeling sick. I hated my body, I hated being touched, I hated how scared I was all the time, and I had no one to say that to. You think you were uncomfortable?” My voice broke. “I’ve lived in discomfort since it happened.”

I wiped angrily at the tears slipping down my cheeks before adding,

“Until Matt.”

Noah’s gaze softened, but there was still a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“Yeah, but Matt doesn’t know everything, Daphne. I don’t want him to leave you because you’re still healing.”

I shook my head, voice steady despite the ache inside me.

“You think he’ll leave?”

He looked me in the eye, firm. “He’s my best friend. He’s a good guy. But I know him.”

I took a breath, steadying myself.

“Well… you’re wrong, because he didn’t leave.”

My brother's eyes widened, shock creeping across his face. 

“Wait... Matt knows? You told him?”

My silence spoke volumes, and Noah blinked, clearly stunned.

"Since when?”

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “December.”

Noah said nothing, the weight of the revelation hanging heavily between us. I could tell he was processing the information.

I took a shaky breath and pressed on.

“And you know what he did, Noah?” I looked into his eyes, searching for some sign of understanding. “He stayed with me. Held me all night, telling me I was okay—that I wasn’t broken.”

I saw something shift in his expression—a mix of surprise and something softer, maybe guilt or regret.

“I didn’t expect him to do all that,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “All I ever wanted was for someone to just ask if I was alright. Like I wanted you to ask.”

Noah’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, struggling with the words he wasn’t saying.

Noah finally met my eyes again, his voice low and hesitant. “I’m sorry, Daphne. I should’ve been there… I should’ve asked.”

A pang of guilt flashed across his face, but his next words surprised me. 

“I’m sorry, I was scared too—scared that if I asked, I’d hear something I couldn’t fix.”

I shook my head slowly. 

“You don’t have to fix me, Noah. To be fair, I don’t even think Matt can fully. I just needed you to see me. To care enough to ask.”

He walked over to the couch in silence, sinking into the cushions with a heaviness I couldn’t ignore. I followed, sitting beside him, close but not touching.

“Noah,” I said softly, “he put me in therapy.”

His eyes cut to me, brows furrowed. “Therapy?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Out of his own pocket. He didn’t even tell me he was paying for it at first.”

Noah didn’t respond. The air between us felt thick, heavy with things neither of us knew how to say.

I looked down at my hands, fidgeting slightly.

“He’s been so patient with me… so kind. He does this thing where he calls me around ten every night if we’re not together. Just to check if I want to fall asleep on the phone with him. So I don’t go to sleep feeling… alone.”

A small smile ghosted across my lips, just thinking about it. But I straightened quickly, trying not to let it show too much.

When I glanced at Noah again, his expression was unreadable. Then he spoke.

“You love him?”

The question caught me off guard, not because it wasn’t true, but because hearing it out loud felt so real.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah… I do.”

His eyes searched mine for a long moment. Then his voice dropped, quiet but heavy.

“Then why hide it, Daph? Why let me find out on my own—by walking in on—” He stopped himself, jaw clenching as the image flickered in his head. “You know.”

I felt the warmth rush to my cheeks, my stomach twisting with embarrassment. But I didn’t look away

“I take full blame for that,” I said quietly. “I was the one who didn’t want to tell you right away.”

Noah scoffed, bitter and sharp. “You don’t have to protect him, Daphne.”

I shook my head firmly, meeting his gaze.

“No—really. He wanted to tell you the moment it became real between us. He’s been pushing me for weeks. You don’t even know how many arguments we’ve had about it.”

Noah’s jaw clenched, but the anger in his eyes wavered, replaced with something more conflicted—hurt, maybe.

“So why didn’t you?” he asked, his voice low. “Why lie to me? Why let me feel like an idiot?”

My shoulders sank, the weight of it all pressing down.

“Because I didn’t know how you’d react. Because I knew this—right now—would happen. That you’d think the worst. That you’d be disappointed in me. And… I didn’t want to lose you either.”

He looked away, swallowing hard.

“You’re my sister, Daph. You never had to choose between me and being happy. I just… I didn’t see it coming. You and Matt.”

“I didn’t either,” I whispered. “But he’s been good to me, Noah. Better than I ever expected from anyone, and I love him. He loves me.”

He looked at him, a quiet understanding finally reaching his eyes. 

Noah looked at me, really looked at me this time, and something in his expression finally softened. A quiet understanding flickered behind his eyes, breaking through the tension that had sat between us all evening.

“I think…” he started, voice rough, “I just have to accept that you’re not a kid anymore, Daph.”

His eyes glistened suddenly, catching the light—and catching me completely off guard.

“You’re all grown up,” he said, barely above a whisper. “You have been for a long time… if I’m being honest.”

He exhaled, the breath shaky, like he was trying to hold himself together.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I guess I just thought… if you really didn’t need me anymore, then maybe there wouldn’t be a place for me in your life.”

Without thinking, I reached for his hand and held it tightly between mine.

“No—Noah,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “I’ll always need you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“You’re my annoying brother. My pain-in-the-ass brother… and I’ll always need you.”

A small laugh escaped him, and he gave a watery smile.

I gave his hand another squeeze. “And… we’re each other’s only family.” 

Noah gave me a small, wavering smile before suddenly pulling me into a tight hug.

I sank into it without hesitation, my arms wrapping around him as I pressed my face into his shoulder. He held me like he used to when we were kids. 

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were glassy again, but he gave a small nod, like he was making peace with something inside himself.

“I just… I need a bit of time to process everything, alright?” he said, standing slowly and wiping his face “Not mad. Just… overwhelmed.”

“I get it,” I whispered, nodding gently.

He gave me a final, reassuring glance before turning and heading down the hallway to his room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

I lingered for a moment, standing alone in the silence.

Then I quietly made my way to my room, my heart feeling a little lighter than before. 

After closing the door behind me, I leaned against it for a moment, exhaling deeply. The conversation with Noah had left me emotionally drained, but also oddly lighter. For the first time in a long while, things felt… okay.

I moved to my nightstand, glancing at the clock. 9:57 PM.

A small smile tugged at my lips. 

Almost ten.

Without a second thought, I picked up my phone and hit Matt’s name in my favorites. It rang once, then went straight to voicemail.

I blinked. 

That was weird.

Matt always answered my calls. Always. Especially at this time. It was like our thing.

Maybe he was in the shower. I waited a minute, then called again.

Straight to voicemail. Again.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, the smile slipping slowly from my face.

Frowning now, I typed out a quick text:

Daphne: Hey, are you home? Daphne: Just wanted to hear your voice before bed <3 Daphne: Noah calmed down a bit

I stared at the screen, waiting for the delivered check mark to turn into “Read.” But it didn’t.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Still no reply. No callback. Nothing.

A knot began forming in my stomach.

I opened his contact, pressed “info,” and tapped his location. My heart beat faster.

Last seen: 8:41 PM 

I stared at it, confused. The address didn’t look familiar. It wasn’t anywhere he usually went. It was some random street about five minutes away from his house. 

I sat frozen, staring at Matt’s location like it might change if I just waited long enough.

But it didn’t.

It stayed the same. That unfamiliar street. That quiet stillness. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

A tight ache settled in my chest—the kind that came with not knowing, with overthinking, with fear you didn’t want to name yet.

I tossed my phone on the nightstand and stood, suddenly overwhelmed. I changed into an oversized hoodie and soft pajama shorts, movements sluggish and quiet, like I was trying not to wake something inside me.

Climbing into bed, I pulled the blanket up to my chin and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing through every possibility.

What if he just forgot? What if his phone died? But Matt never forgot. He would never leave me hanging like this.

I turned onto my side, hugging my pillow to my chest.

Eventually, the emotions, the conversation with Noah, and now this—finally dragged me under. My eyes fluttered shut, and I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

7:03 AM

The shrill vibration of my phone cut through the quiet, pulling me from sleep. I groaned, blindly reaching toward my nightstand, my eyes barely open.

I didn’t check the caller ID.

“Hello?” I mumbled, my voice thick and groggy.

“Daphne?”

I blinked, the voice on the other end pulling me fully awake.

“Aurora?”

My body instantly tensed, the tone in her voice making my heart skip. Something was off—too quiet, too careful.

“Hey… I’m sorry to call you this early.”

There was a strange shakiness in her voice. My fingers gripped the phone tightly.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She didn’t answer right away. That silence set my nerves on fire. I didn’t know what to expect. 

“Aurora?” I pressed.

There was a rustling sound, like she was pacing or fidgeting.

“Chris was going to call your brother, but he’s… he’s freaking out right now, so I thought it was better if I just called you instead.”

A nervous laugh escaped me, though it sounded more like a question than anything else. 

“Is Chris okay?”

I heard her swallow. Hard. 

“Listen, love,” she said softly, her voice shaking more now. “I need you to stay calm, alright?”

My chest tightened.

“Aurora, what’s going on?”

She swallowed hard, her breath shaky as if forcing out a secret she wished she could take back.

“Matt… he was in a motorcycle accident last night.”

The words hit me like a thunderclap. My chest tightened, my breath caught in my throat, and the room seemed to tilt beneath me.

No...no. Matt would never be careless

He’s too experienced for that.

I barely managed to choke out,

“What…?”

Her voice came again, low and urgent.

“It’s bad, Daphne. Really bad.”

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: I loved reading every comment on the last chapter hahah – like and reblog! mwah love you all ] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes @angelxsturns @mattsbabyangel @mattysmrwrinkleton @beardedbernard @sturnsfluff @le4hsblog @sturnsobsessed21

[maybankslover]

homewrecker- rafe cameron

rafe cameron x singer!reader

warnings: cheating, mentions of sex, angst

smut: she wasn't a homewrecker but he made a wreck out of her

playlist:homewrecker by willow avalon

looking back she should've known better but what about? there weren't any signs of him being a married man.

she was a stupid country singer girl searching for love who thought she found it when the blue eyed man smiled at her across the bar where her team and her were enjoying the after concert air, laughing around and sharing stories with a few drinks in front of them.

"sorry to interrumpt." he said when he reached the table she was sat with a few friends beside her. "just wanted to tell you i really liked the show."

and she was done for.

"thank you..." she looked at him waiting for his name.

"rafe. i'm rafe." he extended his hand and she shook it.

"well thank you rafe, i'm glad you liked it." she smiled back and waited for the man to make a move, wanted to see if he had the confidence she already knew he carried.

"i know you're on tour and everything but i'd like to take you out sometime if you're in charleston for a few days or even when you come back." she should've known no one could be that sweet.

she opened her hand at him. "phone?"

he looked at her for a second before reaching for it and giving it to her. rafe watched as the woman wrote her number and name down.

"give me a call? i'll be back home in two weeks." she smiled and he noded, tilting his hat down as a gentleman would do before she turned around and continued with her night as if he didn't exist.

he liked her, really liked her. she was the opossite of his wife, she carried confidence, she carried bright smiles, she carried something he didn't know he could ever want.

he never thought some country singer would be the one to caught his eye but she did. it wasn't as if his wife wasn't a lovely woman, she was but he didn't love her, both of them knew he married her to keep his father happy and now after he passed away he felt free to do whatever was 'stolen' from him as a twenty year old boy.

he texted her the next morning and she sent him a picture of the road, he couldn't do the same. his wife would ask who he was sending a picture of the road to.

text

y/n 'back in charleston'

rafe 'are you free tomorrow?'

y/n 'no but i'm free tonight'

rafe 'picking you up at 8pm send me the adress'

he swore he was in heaven when he saw her walking out of her house in white dress, boots and a black hat on top of her head. it was so wrong but he didn't know if he could stop.

"hey." she smiled, he was waiting outside the truck with a fresh bouquet of lilies

"hey sweetheart." that southern accent would be a problem for her. "didn't know if you liked flowers but i'd rather take the risk."

"love them, my favorites actually." he held the door opened for her to get in, once she did and the door closed, he got around to do the same. "where are we going?"

"there's this restaurant like 30 minutes away from here called 'franchesca' and they make..." she interrupted before he could finish.

"food from different places around the world. i love it, it's been a while since i was able to go." he smiled at her before turning the car on.

"glad to know i made a good choice." she agreed.

if he wasn't a liar, if he wasn't a married man, if he hadn't made her a homewrecker; he could've been the love of her life.

after the fourth date he took her to his apartment, his bachelor apartment the one he got in the city while going to uni. one his wife thought he sold many years ago.

a few family pictures, things that made the place seemed lived in no trace of the woman back in the island.

"are those your sisters?" she asked pointing at a picture with two young girls.

"yeah, the blonde one is sarah and the other one is wheezie." he nodded. "sarah is twenty four and wheezie just turned nineteen."

"they're pretty."

"sarah looks just like mom did and wheezie is my dad's sister twin. aunt monica loves to brag about that." she didn't ask about the 'did' part when he mentioned his mother, if he wanted her to know he would tell her eventually.

and he did later that night after sex while they shared some takeout in bed.

"mom passed almost fourteen years ago seems like a lifetime and dad passed two years back." she grimaced. "both from cancer."

"shit rafe i'm so sorry, y'all were so young." her hand laid softly on his forearm and he wished he was divorced not cheating on his wife because he felt more in that moment than in his entire life.

"thank you." he gave her a peck on the lips. "stay the night? it's late."

she smiled and agreed, his t-shirt a bit big on her and a sleepy look in her eyes.

"i have to go back to the island for a few days to see my sisters and some business and i'll be back next week." he mentioned while they had breakfast.

"alright, give me a call when you're back." the morning sun looked good on her skin.

"he's the man of my dreams amy." her best friend and her sat in her couch each with a mug in hand. "he's sweet, family oriented, has a good business. this could be really something."

"and he's gorgeous." her best friend added.

"yeah and he's amazing in bed." both of them laughed loudly until their belly's hurted.

at the cameron's house there were loud voices too but not laughs, shouts and screams.

"are you fucking kidding me rafe?" his wife shouted for the third time in half an hour since he told her he wanted to divorce. "we've been together for eight years. eight and now you want a divorce?"

"yes i want a divorce alice and don't shout at me because i'm not shouting at you." he was sat in their big black sofa. "we're not together because we love eachother we're together because it was convinient to our fathers but now both of them are gone."

he was right, she knew he was right but it was time for them to be looking for a kid not signing a divorce.

"is there someone else?" he wanted to laugh because why was she asking that if she also had someone else on the side. her high-school sweetheart.

"no, there isn't." big lie. "but if there was, you can't persue anything around it when you've been seeing jacob bankey for the last two or three years."

she stayed quiet.

"you know about that?" he chuckled.

"you don't think i know what happens on my own house when i'm not here?" she sat down next to him. "we sign the pre-nup divorce and go our separate ways."

"that easy?"

"alice we did that to make it easy."

two weeks later they signed it but it was a bit late, someone had sent her pictures of his weeding. he didn't think about it, his wedding was the event of the year in outer banks back then.

he knocked on her door, a big bouquet of flowers and that cheeky smile on his face expecting the same thing from her when she opened the door but he faced a stern look and dark circles under her eyes.

"hey sweetheart." she stepped aside to let him in. "didn't answer my texts and i thougth i'd swing by to let you know i was back."

"yeah didn't want to after somebody sent me this." she shoved four pictures on his chest.

his wedding pictures.

"i can explain it." he set down the flowers on her living room table. "i finalised my divorce this week, it was sort of an arranged marriage."

"i don't believe you. you didn't tell me about having a divorce in progress, a wife, a whole life i don't know about." her eyes shifted as if something had clicked on her head. "do you have kids?"

"no no that i don't have." he sighed. "i need you to listen to me please."

"i need you to leave." her voice cracked a bit.

"just for a second." when she didn't say anything he proceeded to explain, to lie on the most part. "i was married for eight years to alice, i was twenty-two and wanted to please my father. the marriage was good for our bussiness and to her father's company, both our last names have a heavy weight on the construction area."

"and?"

"we don't love eachother, never did. she's been seing her high-school boyfriend for at least three years and i know it's not excuse for lying to you but this is the reality of our situation." he closed his eyes for a moment. "we signed a pre-nup divorce we made without our parents knowing because we both knew once our fathers died we wouldn't stay together."

"were you in the process of divorce when we started seeing each other?" he stayed silent for a moment.

"no i wasn't."

"then you have to leave rafe." she nudged towards the door. "because i've been through many liars before and i won't put myself on another relationship with someone i can't trust."

"i'm really sorry." he took a deep breath in. "i wish we would've met on different circumstances because i've never felt the way you made me feel."

"me neither but i won't ever trust you rafe."

"i know." with that their conversation and sort of relationship came to an end.

three months later he was at another festival where she was a headliner.

"this is a song i wrote on one single night after i found out the guy i was dating had a wife or an ex wife sort of." she chuckled southern accent making it charming. "this is homewrecker."

'i ain't no homewrecker

didn't know better

he only gave me his side of the truth'

his cap hid a bit of his face but not whole making it easy to distingue when the camera pointed his way on the crowd.

'and if those walls could talk

I'd wish they tipped me off

but the writing wasn't there

and he wasn't what I thought'

her flowy dress with bell sleeves didn't made justice to her beauty.

'I'm just a girl

who tried to take a man for his word

I can't believe

all the pictures I wish I didn't see

I ain't no homewrecker

but he made a wreck out of me'

she danced around the stage, the country rythm made a heartbreak song easy to listen.

'I ain't no homewrecker

but he made a wreck out of me'

"thank you charleston for this night! you're healing the wreck inside of me."

text

rafe 'i know you probably don't want to hear from me but i was there tonight'

rafe 'it was never my intention to make you feel like it was you that wrecked whatever was left of my marriage because it wasn't your fault at all'

rafe 'i hope we can talk again someday'

y/n 'thank you for the apology

y/n 'but i won't risk being called a homewrecker nor will i allow myself to be wrecked by you again rafe'

y/n 'have a nice life'

he should've think twice before making a wreck out of her.

@droppedyourhnd @congratsloserr @rafesbabygirlx @gillybear17 @theoraekenslover @silkylovey @frankoceanluvr11 @ethanthequeefqueen @chiaraanatra @chenslucy @ijustwanttoreadlols @memoirofasparklemuff1n

please if you liked it reblog!

[caramel1mochi]

Lava Lamp [ Heian!Sukuna x F!Reader ]

[ part 1 ]

words: 700+ / Please refrain from stealing my work.

note: I was trying to call my brother in public but I was thinking of Sukuna so I literally yelled SUKUNA and people looked at me It happened 2 weeks ago and my stupid brain won’t BLOCK IT OUT. Anyway Sukuna is in his true form as per the vote. Please enjoy!!

There was a boy who wouldn't stop staring at you.

You weren't sure why. Quite frankly, you knew more about the red birds that infrequently flew above your home than you did about him. You didn't know who he was, you didn't know why he insisted on taking the isolated path near your house almost every day at noon, where he went, in fact, you didn't even know which clan he came from; all you knew was that he had pink hair, was as young as you, and would eerily stare at you as he walked past. Sometimes, he'd even stop in his tracks and boldly watch you work away in your farm. It felt like he never caught on to your discomfort despite your attempts to clarify it.

Today was another one of those days. But luckily for you, you spent the entire morning today expecting this event, and thus, worked up your courage for this moment. You walked up to him and bowed to greet him.

It was beyond embarrassing to greet him looking the way you did. The lower portion of your pants and your hands were covered in dirt, your clothes were oversized, and overall you looked utterly unpresentable as a girl. Moreover, you were a kid working on the farm alone — this mere sight would elicit many prying questions from anyone who passed by.

"Hello... My name is Y/N, what's yours?"

The pink-haired boy stopped in his tracks and watched you with a diligent eye. Silence settled between the two of you. But only one of you felt the discomfort, and your fidgeting indicated that it wasn't him. The boy kept staring at you. Not at your face, but instead, your head — your cranium, for some reason. It would take a few seconds before he'd bother to look you in the eyes.

"Just call me Sukuna."

You politely smiled.

"I've noticed you look at my farm every day, Sukuna. Does something... interest you?"

That was the most subtle way you could convey your discomfort without coming off as rude. His expression didn't change.

"I just like looking at you."

Sukuna replied curtly.

Your cheeks turned red from his straightforward comment. Sukuna's eyes, however drifted back to your cranium; he focused on the amalgamation of twisted, deformed beings swirling around the top of your head. Each colourful creature had eyes as hollow as the last. The sight of these curses plaguing your head was as mesmerising as a lava lamp.

He glanced back at you.

"Did a maid do your hair?"

You blushed again, but you avoided touching your hair in lieu[ of the dirt on your hands.

"No, I did it myself...”

That answer confirmed you couldn't see these curses. But Sukuna didn't want to tell you why he really stared. What reason did he have to do so? You'd just call him cursed and scorn him like everyone else. It's not like anyone in this village deserved peace.

“If I can ask… why is your head wrapped like that?”

Sukuna had a white silk cloth wrapped around the right side of his head, leaving only his left eye visible. Said eye had a small slit beneath it, as well, but you decided against overwhelming him with questions.

“Air gets in my head. I keep it covered so I don’t fall ill.”

He explained casually; it was the explanation his parents and servants gave him. Sukuna couldn’t care less about the surprise that etched your features. This conversation took too long, he thought, and he wanted to end it.

"I have to go."

You were surprised when he turned on his heel and walked off shortly after saying that. Nevertheless, you politely bowed in response.

"O– okay, goodbye, Sukuna! We should speak again!"

No response.

You were very delighted to have finally met Sukuna. First, he outwardly called you attractive, then he indirectly said your hair was pretty with that comment. How lucky were you that he* happened to take the path by your home every day? With a personality like that, he must be popular back in the village, especially with the girls. Unfortunately for you, outside of selling your harvests, you never spent time there, so you were relatively isolated.

You smiled to yourself and returned back to your garden, your thoughts now plagued by both this charming boy and a strange haziness.

[namguys]

Hello! I just started reading your Nam-Gyu fics, and I love them! I was just wonder, would you be able to write a fluff fic where Nam-Gyu and the reader were dating before the games, where he used to be a better person, but they broke up because he started using drugs.

Then, in the games they didn’t really speak to each other much, until the hide and seek game. Maybe Nam-Gyu finds the reader having a breakdown and she thinks that he means to kill her. Maybe he starts to remember their time together before the drugs, and comforts her or something? Feel free to change anything, and no pressure to write it. Thank you :)

I’m sorry, i won’t kill you.

i love that idea!! I tried to keep it to fit your description as close as possible :D

———————————————————————

synopsis: Breaking up with Nam-Gyu before the games and then reuniting in the games, you avoid him like the pest until Hide and Seek/Hunter vs. Prey.

ft. f!reader x ex!nam-gyu

Trigger Warnings: Violence (NOT GRAPHIC), Drug use, Substance abuse, Toxic relationships, arguing, mention of murder (NOT GRAPHIC)

—————————————————————

You and Nam-Gyu were like a dream-couple. Never fought, loved each-other to the moon and back. literally. As you laid in bed, waiting for him to finish showering, you rolled over to his side of your shared bed. Not long after, he emerges from the steaming hot bathroom, a towel wrapped around his body. His eyes immediately turn to you, grinning ever-so-softly. "Just a second, pretty girl. I’ll change and then i’ll be there, okay?" His voice, ever so gentle, was like a melody to your ears. He sounded love-struck whenever you talked, and you could swear you saw little hearts in his eyes whenever you looked at him. You nod, scooted over and waited. Not long after he had changed, he laid down next to you, invitingly opening his arms. "C’mere, love." He muttered, waiting. Without hesitation, you scooted closer, right into his arms and feeling them wrap around you. "I missed you, y’know? Next time we should shower together." He pouted, burying his face in your hair. He loved the scent of your shampoo, after all. You nod, kissing his chin gently. "Yeah, we can do that next time. I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Well — That was *before* what had happened. Before he started taking drugs, to be precise.

*"All you care about are those fucking drugs! Do you even love me anymore, Nam-Gyu!?" You yelled at him, tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up at the man you once fell in love with, long before his drug problem started. Nam-Gyu’s cold gaze hurt as he stared down at you, pupils dilated and eyes bloodshot. Of course, he was high. Again. "Honestly?" he slurred, sounding annoyed. "No. I don’t. You piss me off, always clinging to me like some drugs are gonna kill me." He spat out those cold words like you suddenly meant nothing to him anymore. That’s what broke you. You snapped, the tears that you were so desperately trying to hold back spilling out of your eyes like a waterfall. "Then go! I don’t wanna see you anymore, we’re over!" You scream, desperate. You secretly hoped that he wouldn’t leave, but that’s exactly what he did. In one swift motion, he turned around, grabbed his jacket, his keys off of the table and left, slamming the door shut behind him. That was the last time you saw him.*

But now? now your situation was even worse. Your life couldn’t get any better, at least you thought so. You just joined a game where you could win a lot of money — just to find out it’s a life and death game, and your ex boyfriend is there, too. It made you feel sick to your stomach, really. You felt like throwing up when you remembered your last interaction before this.

You strongly decided against interacting with him. You didn’t need him, he was gonna betray you, anyway, you think.

Fast forward a few games, you were mentally done. This was all so fucked up. "'Hunter vs. Prey' what kind of shit is that?!" You thought to yourself, trying to open a door after running away from one of the red vests. You heard footsteps, that’s when you realized; Fuck. That’s the wrong Keyhole. You quickly look around, trying to find a way to escape before running off down a random hallway. You close your eyes, not wanting to look ahead or behind you — Until you collide with someone. A desperate and frustrated "Fuck!" followed by a groan was heard from the other person you bumped into. You open your eyes to look up at them, your suspicions correct — it was Nam-Gyu. He was a red vest. When you notice his vest, you scramble to your feet, slowly backing up. "Leave me alone, you sick, drug-addicted bastard!" You blurt out, scared. Was he gonna kill you? You feel yourself collide with a wall behind you. Just as you were about to take a run for it, a soft "Wait." was heard from him, as if he was predicting your moves. He stepped closer, putting a surprisingly comforting hand on your shoulder. "Darling, i-…I’m sorry, okay? I know, i fucked up, but…Fuck- i miss you, okay?!" Nam-Gyu’s voice sounded pleading, desperate, almost. He was never good with expressing how he felt, especially not while on drugs. He enveloped you in a warm, tight hug, burying his face in your hair, just like he used to. "I’m sorry, i won’t kill you, i promise."

———————————————————————

I just woke up and it’s already so hot here, this summer is gonna kill me 💔 anyway here’s your Fluff mixed with a little bit of Angst, i really hope you enjoyed it!!

[salemrph]

The taste of apple and pomegranate

Ch. 8: Melted Ice Cream

Nav: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 (coming soon) // AO3

Summary: You just wanted to survive university, not fall for either of them—let alone both. Two handsome idiots who somehow made your apartment their second home. You, Sylus, and Caleb were supposed to be just friends. So why does everything feel like their is more going on?

Character: Sylus x f!reader x Caleb // Tara, Rafayel // AU - College, Student

Genre: romantic, fluff, intimacy, sexual content, humor, friends to lovers, poliamore, slow burn

Word count: 4.6k | Reading Time: 18 min | AO3

A/N: This one’s more of a short, episode-style story. I just wanted to have some fun throwing these two into everyday situations and seeing what kind of chaos unfolds. Hope you enjoy the mess!

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist @peacedreamer14 @blessdunrest @strwberriiblnde @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusqt @sakuraneko-sakupanda-chan @peacedreamer14 @escapeis @plzdonutpercieveme

Ch. 8: Melted Ice Cream

You tried to reach out to Rafayel that very day, hoping to learn more about the incident with the wine. The only thing you got was: “Sorry, the number you dialed is not in the mood for phone calls.”

You sighed. What a mess. The tickets to the park sat on your desk. Sylus and Caleb hadn’t told you anything either. You could try to squeeze the truth out of them, but… what exactly was behind their strange behavior toward each other? Rafayel had mentioned something about an aphrodisiac in the wine. Could something have happened between them while they were drugged? They were close—great friends. An Aphrodisiac… you do quick search:

Can increase sexual desire and sexual pleasure.

They primarily work by increasing blood flow, relaxing smooth muscles.

The goal: intensify sensation, drive, and the ability to achieve an erection.

Sure, the wine might have caused painful erections… But to the point of— You open your mouth in utter disbelief at the thought. No, no. No way. You laughed it off, heat rushing to your cheeks. As if Sylus and Caleb could be sexually interested in each other. That would be ridiculous, plus, they seemed to be more upset about something else... They were both interested in the same girl. 

You remembered what Rafayel had said, teasing and serious all at once:

“Are you sure it’s not you?”

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

You definitely weren't that girl—and even if you were, choosing between them would be impossible. What a fucking, goddamn mess! It was getting harder and harder to pretend you only saw them as friends, especially after those intense solo sessions you’d been having. Oh yeah, sessions with your fingers and a few well-chosen toys, imagining their mouths, their hands, their bodies pressing in from both sides. The things you’d fantasized about... borderline sinful. Shameless, if not downright naughty to a point that you deleted your search history. 

But no. This couldn’t keep happening. Your lust-fueled daydreams were dangerous territory. Your sexual desires were secondary if you wanted to at least maintain a friendship. You had to be better. Therefore, you set a firm goal in your head: you would see them only as friends, and Sylus and Caleb would, somehow, talk things out. So everything could go back to the same old routine.

Group Chat: Apple, Pomegranate & Me

You: Do you want to hang out next weekend? 🎫🎢

══════════════════

Whatever it was, maybe a day at the amusement park would help them get back to their funny dynamic.

The day began like any other. The sky was bright, the air warm, and for a moment, it felt like maybe this day would be normal. Despite your protests, Tara and Rafayel had insisted on helping you pick out an outfit. Rafayel had whispered, “It could be a date,” with that sly glint in his eyes. Tara had scoffed but added, “A double date with those two hot idiots…” You’d laughed it off, brushing away the flutter in your chest. 

When you finally stepped out in your chosen outfit: casual, cute, maybe just a little more flattering than necessary, Tara and Rafayel went momentarily silent. Tara’s lips curled up. Rafayel’s eyes lit up. They high-fived satisfied with their job. You don’t know when they became such close friends. 

When you arrive at the meeting point, just in time, you see Caleb and Sylus, dressed down but sharp, like they hadn't coordinated but somehow still matched. You’d joked about it but neither had laughed. They stood on either side of you like repelling magnets. Still both acknowledge your outfit with their usual casual tone. 

“Okay,” you said, hands clapping once. “Let’s have some fun.”

Each one found a place to your side. One to your left, one to your right. They spoke to you normally, but there was nothing in between them, only strained courtesy to avoid completely ruining the atmosphere. At first, it felt kind of nice. Inside the park, music and laughter rang through the air. Kids ran past, sticky with cotton candy, teenagers screamed on roller coasters, bubbles floated in the sun. You wanted to feel that joy and happiness of this place. You really did. But as the day wore on, it became... exhausting.

The vibrant energy around you only seemed to highlight how hard they were both trying. Caleb insisted on winning you something at every booth. Sylus offered to carry your bag and refused to let you stand in line alone. They spoke over each other, interrupted your sentences, subtly glared when you laughed too hard at the other’s jokes. It was too much.

You tried to at least calm things down whenever the hatred escalated. It started on the merry-go-round. You rode a horse. Caleb stood beside it, hands ready to steady you. Next, a shooting game. Sylus effortlessly nailed every target. He then turned, a triumphant grin on his face, and handed you his prize. From the shadows of the arcade, Caleb's gaze could have incinerated Sylus.

But no matter how hard you tried, it kept feeling like some ridiculous tug-of-war for your attention. Every smile you gave, every comment you made—both Sylus and Caleb latched onto it like it was a prize. It was exhausting. This was supposed to be fun. A carefree day. Instead, your head throbbed, and your patience thinned with each passing hour.

Somewhere on the park edge, nestled behind a churro stand and a line for face painting, Rafayel adjusted his sunglasses and took a sip of his iced drink. 

“God, I love this,” he whispered. Beside him, Tara peered through a pair of chunky binoculars she’d absolutely brought just for the drama.

“Do you think they’ll kill each other?”

“Hard to say,” Rafayel murmured. “But the tension.. . ”

They weren’t being subtle in the slightest, drawing surprised looks from several passersby who noticed their rather suspicious behaviour. One small child asked if they were secret agents.

“You two know that you’re drawing a lot of attention.” Gideon’s voice cut through the moment. He strolled up behind them, casually munching on a churro. “Also—why the hell am I here?”

Tara didn’t even lower her binoculars. “Because you said you had nothing better to do.”

“Babe, I said that, not knowing this would turn into some twisted surveillance mission.”

“We prefer the term emotional intervention,” Rafayel said, waving a hand. “You’re the muscle. In case one of them tries to throw the other off the Ferris wheel.”

Gideon just took another bite of churro and muttered, “I’m too sober for this.”

“Hush. They’re approaching the park mascot” Rafayel ordered. 

══════════════════

On your way to the next attraction, your eyes caught on the park mascot—a giant, fluffy creature that looked like a cross between a cat and a marshmallow. Your steps slowed, lips parting in surprise before curling into a grin.

“I want a picture with it!” you announced, voice bubbling with sudden excitement as you made a beeline toward the oversized mascot. Sylus instinctively pulled out his phone, ready to hand it to Caleb.

“No, no!” you stopped him quickly, cheeks warm with anticipation. “I want a picture with both of you,” you insisted without giving them a chance to object, you flagged down a passing visitor. Then you wrapped one hand around Sylus’s arm and the other around Caleb’s, pulling them close on either side of you. Caleb blinked and his eyes softened, he let out a low breath. While Sylus glanced down to your hand curled around his forearm, he could feel the heat of your touch through the fabric.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of tension lifted. Their shoulders eased, forgetting whatever passive-aggressive nonsense they’d been locked in. Melted under the bright curve of your smile. 

“Let’s take more!” you said breathlessly, scrolling through the picture with a spark in your eye. “This one’s so cute.”  

You didn’t even notice how they were staring at you, too distracted by cuddling the big mascot. Your laugh made the air feel different. You lit up the space around Caleb and Sylus. They didn’t know how someone could just… glow like that.

Sylus watched you, arms crossed but loose now, he was admiring the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. That softness in your face, it hit him deep down. Caleb saw it too. Felt his chest clench at the sound of your laugh. It was stupid how beautiful you looked in that light. 

Sylus flicked his gaze to Caleb. Caleb met it with a sidelong glance of his own. And in that instant, they both knew—they’d been caught watching the same thing, wanting the same thing. Caleb cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to stretch his arms. Sylus rolled his neck, annoyed, as if to shake it off.

What the hell are we doing?

Whatever this was… it couldn’t last like this. Not when you looked that happy. And not when they realized how much they wanted to be the reason behind it.

The rest of the afternoon became a blur of spinning colours and chaotic joy. Running from one ride to another—from the log flume to the craziest roller coasters, to the lazy river that drifted to cheesy animation and bubble-blowing speakers. There were cotton candy clouds, hot dogs you regret halfway through eating, and a park-famous crepe so good that Sylus actually licked powdered sugar off his thumb. Even though the communication between the boys didn’t improve much, they managed to stop actively ignoring each other.

As the sun dipped lower and lights around the park started to glow, you tugged them both toward a neon photo booth. 

“Pipsqueak, haven’t you taken enough pictures?” Caleb asked, raising a brow.

“Nope. I want more,” you said firmly, folding your arms.

“We can’t say no to your wishes,” Sylus muttered, already pulling back the curtain.

You grinned and climbed in first. They followed, bumping into each other, elbows jabbing awkwardly as you all squeezed into the tiny space. Inside the cramped photo booth, the world felt smaller. Just the three of you, pressed shoulder to shoulder, the glow of the screen painting your faces in warm, shifting colours lights.

Somewhere between the shutter clicks and the shared, too-close space, Sylus and Caleb felt it—that subtle pull in their chests, like someone had plucked a string deep inside them. A tender melody strumming against their ribs. Could it be…?

Sylus watched, captivated, as your eyes crinkled with laughter, as your fingers danced over the glass screen choosing filters. His mind, without permission, flickered back to that night: the dream, the heat, the confusion. Wine or not, it didn't matter right. The only thing that should have his attention... was you.

He leaned in, just slightly, close enough to catch your scent, and you glanced at him, smiling so effortlessly. Sylus knew that whatever was stirring between him and Caleb was just a shadow. You were the sun. And right now, he didn’t want to look away.

Caleb, on the other side, chewed the inside of his cheek, gaze flickering between your profile and Sylus’s calm face. He couldn’t quite untangle why he’d acted so strange lately. Why Sylus’s presence irritated him in ways it never had before. Why everything felt so volatile between them. The tension, the heat and the dream. No, he pushed that away.

Eventually, he would talk to Sylus. He had to but not now. Today, you had asked them to come. You’d looked at both of them with so much hope, so excited for something simple and joyful. And how had he repaid you? With silence and selfishness. Had let his confusion spill into silence, let his pride get in the way. A knot of guilt twisted in his chest. You deserved more than their mess. 

Both leaned in slightly as the next picture snapped, eyes half on the screen, half on you. Maybe, just maybe, it was time they stopped running from what this was becoming. And started showing up like they meant it.

As the countdown ticked down—

3… 

You were mid-laugh, eyes crinkled, your head tilted back just slightly, the sound like sunlight caught in motion.

2… 

Then, as if tugged by the same invisible string, they shifted. Sylus leaned closer, his breath catching at the edge of your shoulder. Caleb mirrored the movement, drawn by something neither of them could name.

1… 

Their lips brushed your cheeks at the exact same time.

Click.

The flash went off. Your eyes went wide open, caught between shock and something that fluttered low in your stomach. Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, heat blooming across your skin as their lips still brushed against your skin. They were tender in a way that caught you completely off guard. 

As reality came crashing back, they both jolted slightly, pulling away at once. Their gazes locked across you, tension flaring in the space between them as a lightning strike.

You blinked, cheeks flushed, heartbeat stuttering. “Guys…?” But they were already sliding out of the booth, one after the other, in complete silence. You sighed, shoulders sagging as the machine spit out the photo strip with a jingle. In the tiny, glossy image, your wide-eyed surprise was perfectly framed by two pairs of lips pressing against your cheeks. 

You exhaled, slowly. Something had definitely shifted and no matter how sweet the photo looked…

“Are you sure it’s not you?”

You stepped out of the booth with a weak laugh, waving the photo strip in your hand like it was no big deal even though your heart still hadn’t found its rhythm. The theory of Rafayel must be wrong.

“Well, that was… something,” you said, forcing a smirk. “Should I be flattered or worried about the synchronised kissing act?”

Neither of them answered. Caleb was looking anywhere but at you. Sylus had his hands in his pockets. Okay, cool. Very normal and not awkward at all. 

You cleared your throat and tucked the photo away in your bag. “Alright, weirdos. Time for our penultimate ride—House of Terror. And no, I’m not letting either of you chicken out.”

That at least earned a noise from Caleb, something like a scoff, and Sylus gave a short nod. 

When you reached the haunted attraction, the line was already forming. You turned to the boys, motioning to the side. “Give me a few minutes. I just need to go to the bathroom.” You braced yourself for the usual teasing: a sarcastic comment, a smug joke about you stalling because you were scared. But there was nothing. They fell silent again. What a fucking pain in the ass... Caleb and Sylus were already in line, standing stiffly apart, not even looking at you. You frowned, but didn’t push it. “Okay... be right back,” you said out loud.

The cool tiles of the bathroom provided a momentary escape. You splashed cold water on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror, but all you could see was the image of the photo booth. The flash, the close proximity, and then… their lips on your cheek. Both of them.

A bewildered little flutter started in your chest, blossoming into a full-blown pounding. They'd always been affectionate, especially when you were vulnerable—soft kisses pressed to your hair when you were sick, comforting pats on your shoulder when you fail a test. But those had never carried this weight, never given so much space for interpretation. This felt different.

Caleb was usually more touchy in a familiar, almost brotherly way. He was always more openly affectionate than Sylus, quick to pull you into a hug, to press his forehead against yours to check for a fever. So a casual kiss, while surprising, wasn't entirely out of character. And Sylus…? He was usually so reserved, more of a hand-kisser, a chivalrous, almost old-world gesture. For him to lean in, to actually connect his lips to your skin in that confined space…

Did they do that on purpose? The thought sent a fresh heat through you, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The mirror showed the full extent of your blush. What should I do with this now? The answer remained elusive, caught in the rapid beat of your own pulse.

When you returned, the line had moved forward and so had they. Or… not? You checked the queue, scanned the crowd. Nothing. You stood on tiptoe, peeking around the winding barriers. Panic fluttered in your chest as you pulled out your phone. A quick text:

Group Chat: Apple, Pomegranate & Me

You: “Where the hell are you?”

You tried calling. Voicemail. First Caleb. Then Sylus. Your stomach tightened. Had they gone in without you? You stood there a little longer, your hand curling around your phone like it might suddenly ring. You took a slow breath in through your nose and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes. This was supposed to be fun. 

Fine. Fuck them! 

You turned on your heel and headed for the food stand nearby, your mouth tight. If they wanted to act like moody children, they could do it without you.

You bought yourself a towering soft-serve cone that you hadn't really wanted. You found an empty bench near the main plaza, the ice cream already weeping sticky trails down your fingers. You watched, numb, as couples laughed and children squealed, wrapped in a happiness that felt miles away. You remained there, a quiet observer, as your ice cream melted and the insecurity and confusion inside you grew louder with each passing minute.

Definitely, what a mess…

══════════════════

The haunted house was darker than either of them expected, less flashing lights and cheap jump scares, more creeping shadows and eerie silence. Their footsteps echoed against the wooden floorboards as they moved through narrow hallways twisted with cobwebs and artificial fog.

Caleb kept his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking left and right. Sylus walked slightly behind, the darkness itself had set his nerves on edge. They turned a corner into a pitch-black corridor, only faint red lighting flickering from overhead. A skeleton dropped from the ceiling with a mechanical whirr.

Caleb flinched. “Fuck—”

Sylus didn’t even blink. But then, he stopped walking and turned around slowly.

“Where is she?”

Caleb blinked at him. “Huh? I thought she was behind you .”

Then Sylus clicked his tongue, his jaw tightening. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t check?”

“I thought she was just being quiet, like usual in these things!” Caleb snapped, his voice rising. “I thought—" Caleb ran a hand through his hair, panic seeping into his voice.

Sylus muttered something for himself, pushing past a curtain that led to the next section. The winding, labyrinthine layout of the haunted house stretched behind them, filled with flickering lights and the occasional jump-scare actor popping out with mechanical screams. But nothing could spook them more than the realization that you were missing and they hadn’t even noticed.

“Caleb,” Sylus snapped, voice low, rough with a sharp edge. "We need to talk about what happened."

Caleb didn’t answer right away, eyes scanning the narrow hall as if hoping to find you and dodge the conversation at once. “Tsk…” he exhaled through his nose. “There’s nothing to talk about. We were high. You were trying to help. That’s it.”

Sylus grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back, slamming him hard against the fake stone wall. A plastic skeleton jolted on its hook beside them, creaking ominously. The overhead light flickered again, casting jagged shadows over Sylus’s face. 

Caleb’s hands clenched at his sides but he didn’t shove him back. “I’m not doing this here.”

“Is a bit too late for that” His voice dropped low, irritated. Caleb tensed, eyes flicking away, but Sylus leaned in, not letting him escape. “If it were nothing, we wouldn’t be so fucking weird,” Sylus said. “We didn’t even notice she was gone. We’re acting like idiots. So…” he tilted his head, eyes narrowing, “Appleboy, tell me it was nothing.”

“Then what do you want me to say?” he barked.

Sylus leaned in, their faces barely inches apart. “Go ahead. Lie to my face.” The flickering light caught the briefest flash of hesitation in Caleb’s eyes. Outside, laughter echoed from another group. Inside, it was dead silent. Caleb didn’t answer. His throat bobbed, and his fingers curled at his sides. 

Caleb looked him straight in the eyes. “We need to find her.” Sylus sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head. 

Sylus’s expression didn’t soften. “We’re not done.” 

══════════════════

The golden hour had already passed. The warm glow that bathed the amusement park earlier had faded into cooler hues, shadows stretching long between attractions. The crowd was thinning. Somewhere in that shift, it had become painfully obvious:

You were gone.

Sylus stormed past a row of empty carnival booths, his phone pressed to his ear for the tenth time. Nothing, straight to voicemail.

“Where the hell is she?” he muttered.

Behind him, Caleb jogged up, slightly out of breath, scanning the area. “Pipsqueak!” he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. 

They looked at each other, both flushed, both too stubborn to admit out loud what they were both thinking. They’d fucked up.

Far across the plaza, Rafayel’s voice cut through the growing dark. “Still nothing?”

Sylus shook his head.

“Nothing here either,” Tara said, slipping her phone back into her jacket pocket. “She’s not answering me or Gideon.”

Gideon, who had joined reluctantly but now looked fully invested, let out a low whistle. “You sure she’s still in the park?”

Rafayel sighed and pulled a folded map of the park from his coat. “Then let’s split up.”

An hour ago

Caleb had sunk onto a bench, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. He looked like a kicked puppy. Sylus stood stiffly nearby, arms crossed, eyes locked on the path trying to find you in the crowd.

From across the plaza, hidden half-heartedly behind a cotton candy stall, Tara lowered her sunglasses. Rafayel had stopped mid-sketch, his pencil dangling from his fingers. Gideon looked between the two of them, blinking slowly, eating the last bite of candid almond to his mouth.

“Something’s off,” Rafayel muttered. He was already moving before the others could reply.

“Wow,” Tara said, stepping in front of them with a tilt of her head. “You two really know how to ruin a date.” The trio approached the still-frozen boys.

“Wasn’t a date,” Sylus mumbled, still staring ahead.

“Could’ve fooled literally everyone,” Rafayel said. “Including yourselves.”

Gideon placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “What the hell are you doing, man?”

“Leave me alone,” Caleb said hoarsely. He didn’t lift his head. “I could ask you the same.”

“Clearly spying,” Sylus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose like it might somehow make the migraine go away. “Let me guess—this was the idea of that lousy artist.”

“I was trying to help,” Rafayel replied coolly, arms crossed. “You’re welcome.”

Then Tara cut in, voice sharp and cold. “So? Where’s Y/N?”

Silence.

Sylus finally turned his head slightly. “We… don’t know.”

They split off in different directions, hearts pounding, scanning every cluster of people, every corner of the park. They ran through the winding paths and fading golden light, desperate to spot you in the crowd.

Footsteps hit the pavement, sharp and urgent, echoing through the thinning evening air.

“Pipsqueak!” Caleb's voice, ragged with exertion.

“Kitten!” Sylus's call, sharp with worry, followed close behind.

A head snapped up from the bench near the towering Ferris wheel. There you were, sitting on a bench. The soft glow of neon lights painted your skin in pastel tones, the sharp edges of frustration still clinging to your expression. Relief hit them like a wave. Caleb slowed, breath catching, while Sylus came to a sudden halt. You blinked up at them.

“Hey!”

Caleb practically skidded to a halt, his eyes falling to your propped-up foot. A small blue ice pack clung to your ankle, secured with a bit of napkin and stubbornness. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, already crouching down beside you, eyes searching your face like he might’ve missed something worse.

You let out a half-scoff, half-sigh. “This?” You gestured at your ankle. “You big assholes disappeared so I went off to enjoy the park by myself. Then I tripped on a stupid stone on the way to the restroom.”

Sylus dropped to one knee on your other side, his brows furrowed as he gently lifted your hand holding the phone. The screen was dark. “Did your phone break, kitten? You didn't answer any calls.”

“Oh, yeah, it's empty.” The black screen was waved dismissively. “I didn’t realize how low it was. Figured I’d sit a while and then limp home.”

Then Caleb’s voice, softer than you'd expected. “We’re sorry. For everything. For not waiting. For the way we’ve been acting.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips tight. “You better be sorry.” You glanced between the two of them. “Because this was supposed to be fun. Instead, I’ve got a bruised ankle and babysitted two grown ass men.”

Sylus didn’t flinch at your tone. If anything, his gaze softened. “We really screwed up.”

“You think?” you muttered. You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek. “You two need to figure out whatever the hell is going on between you before dragging me along again.”

They both nodded.

You let out a breath. “Now help me up, I’m tired and I want to go home.” Sylus offered his hand. Caleb steadied your other side.  As they helped you to your feet, you leaned on both of them.

“You know what?” you said, eyeing them both. “You don’t just get my forgiveness for free.”

Caleb glanced at you, wary. “Are you going to punish us?”

“Hell yes! You’re taking me to the arcade next weekend. No excuses.”

Sylus raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“Oh, I’m not done.” You poked Caleb in the ribs and turned to Sylus. “You’re carrying me home tonight, on your back.”

He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you cut him off with a sweet smile.

“And for the next two weeks, snacks and beer. From both of you. I don’t care who buys what, but if I’m craving chips at midnight, I expect someone at my door. Oh, and I want to see that romantic summer movie.”

“The one with the tourist and the beach girl?” Sylus clarified.

“Yeah, that one. And I want caramel popcorn.”

“You shouldn’t eat so much junk, Pips,” Caleb interjected.

“Hush! I choose how you compensate me for today.”

Caleb groaned softly. Sylus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “bossy,” but neither of them objected.

As the three of you hobbled toward the park exit, your arms slung loosely around Sylus’s neck. “You’re heavier than I expected, kitten,” Sylus sighed, carrying you on his back.

“Say that again and I’ll accidentally drop a beer on your precious boots,” you warned, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“She’s threatening you already…” Caleb sighed dramatically, walking beside you and holding your bag.

“You deserve worse,” you replied, poking his side. You wiggled a bit on Sylus’s back, enjoying the subtle shift in his muscles.

Caleb continued, eyeing Sylus with an exaggerated sigh, “If I’d carried her, we’d be home by now. I have more upper body strength.”

Sylus scoffed. “You have more ego, you mean.”

“I bench press more.”

“Congrats. Want a sticker?” Sylus’s voice was deadpanned, dripping with sarcasm.

You groaned. “You two are exhausting.”

Despite everything, you laughed, a soft, real sound that warmed the air around you. You leaned your cheek against Sylus’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed for just a second as the neon park lights flickered in the distance. Caleb glanced over and softened, watching you with something warm and quiet in his gaze, the remnants of their bickering fading into the gentle hum of the night.

Release every 1-2 week

A/N The chapter feels a bit week, but still we have this three moving forward somehow. I hope I don't lose track of the story, cause I'm a bit tired, not of writing. I pressed "Salt on my Skin" in the middle of this, and my energy in Ch. 8 was low. Hoping to pick up the pace for the upcoming events. We are more or less half way from the ending.

Small Easter egg to "Salt on your skin" Did you catch it?

Nav: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 (coming soon) // AO3

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[maniacwatchestheworld]

I personally think that it would be HILARIOUS if Dakota and Cavendish made a cameo in the new season of Phineas and Ferb in a way like... Perry gets sent off on his mission, and he meets up with Doofenshmirtz at a café or something, but Dakota is there, and they have a conversation something like:

Doofenshmirtz: Oh! Perry the Platypus! How nice of you to join us! You remember Dakota, right?

Dakota: Hey, Perry. Haven't seen you around much since helping that alien girl out a while back.

Doofenshmirtz: Oh, that's right! I've been so busy with Perry being my nemesis again that I completely forgot about that!

Dakota: ... Nemesis...?

Doofenshmirtz: Well, never mind that! Perry the Platypus, you're probably wondering what I'm doing with meeting up with Dakota again, but you don't need to worry! I'm not up to anything evil with him at all!

Dakota: Evil...?

Doofenshmirtz: We've just been meeting up for coffee here and there to catch up! He lets me know how the Murphy family is doing and all. And he's taking care of the abomination for me!

Perry: *Has a concerned/questioning expression on.*

Dakota: Yeah... Cavenpuss has been... Going through some things lately... But you know how it goes. After we found Cavendish and you and Doofenshmirtz reunited again, there wasn't much of a reason for Dr. D and me to stay together. But I- I wanted to keep it amicable, you know? It's not every day that you become exes with Professor Time after all! So we try to meet up when we can.

Doofenshmirtz: Wait a second... EXES!??? Since when were we- We aren't exes!

Dakota: Woah woah woah! You didn't realize that we were dating? What did you think all those lunches we had together were all about?

Doofenshmirtz: I just thought that you were like... A perpetually hungry slob or something and were just using me to find your friend, Cavendish!

Dakota: Riiiiight. My "very good friend" Cavendish. That I live with. And share a bed with. And whom I've sworn to be with and protect with my life until death do us part.

Doofenshmirtz: Wait a second... You and Cavendish... Are dating!?????!?!?

Dakota: This time period really is pretty backwards when it comes to relationships, isn't it...

[curseofaphrodite]

Paper Frogs!

; where Lily Evans gets jealous, and James finds himself flying off a tree.

-——————————————-

True he was her friend, but there were still an awful lot of things Lily disliked about James Potter.

That's what she told herself — from his arrogant remarks, his extremely flirtatious smile whenever he saw her, the way he got away with everything — she hated 'em all.

Now staring down at the scene in front of her, where James looked like he was about to sweep the fifth-year Ravenclaw off her feet, Lily disliked him more.

"Someone's taking the celebrations well," Marlene said, her eyes on the same people Lily was staring at. The latter rolled her eyes.

"Hufflepuffs should have won," she muttered under her breath.

"Woah, woah, don't ruin our streak!" Marlene gasped. She took the sports spirits seriously, and was not going to let Lily manifest their failure into existence. Marlene didn't go through several hundred blunder hits for Lily to cheer for the wrong team.

Marlene let out a "woohoo!" as Sirius started chugging down the butterbeer, and as if on cue, James turned his head over to their side and flashed Lily that very punchable smile.

"Did you girls enjoy me saving our Cup?" he yelled, walking over. Lily had to struggle to not roll her eyes at the Ravenclaw girl who had her hands still around his waist. "Or are you all used to it by now?"

"Oh c'mon Potter, why so modest? Take off your shirt and wear a crown while you're at it." Lily snapped. "Isn't that your tradition?"

"Do you want me to take my shirt off?" James asked suggestively. Marlene masked her snigger with a cough.

"Did you ask the consent of everyone with eyes while you took 'em off all the other times?" Lily shot back, refusing to blush. "And for fuck's sake, do whatever you want."

"Where are you going?" The Ravenclaw girl beat James to the question, who was watching with his mouth wide open at Lily's sudden outburst.

"I'm going to the library, I can't study and throw up at the same time," Lily said, storming off.

"She was studying?" Marlene asked, wondering how many of those drinks she had.

"That girl belongs in my house," James's admirer said, her eyes still on the place where Lily was two seconds ago.

-

The party fever didn't last till the morning. When James came to sit for breakfast, all his friends were anxiously passing Daily Prophet around.

James could already guess what it was about.

"More attacks?" he asked Sirius, his voice sour.

"Muggles are writing them off one by one as freak accidents," the latter said, his eyes boring into the Slytherins — the only table that didn't seem unfazed. "I tell you, we should lock all of them up already."

"As if Dumbledore's going to ever put stereotypes into his judgement," Remus said from Sirius's left.

Instinctively, James looked around.

"Why's Lily sitting there?" James asked, frowning. She usually sat next to Remus, but today, she was further seats down.

"Dunno. Reckon you did something to piss her off again?"

"No!" James was too quick to answer. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Fine, she did seem annoyed when I flirted with her yesterday—"

Remus scoffed. "When is she not?"

"Well, she seemed more annoyed than usual."

"Look," Sirius straightened up. He put an apple in James's mouth so he wouldn't interrupt. "Lily is a muggleborn. She's probably stressed about her family with these attacks all over London. Heck, I'm worried about her family."

"Yeah, maybe turn a notch down on all the flirting." Remus agreed. "She must have enough on her plate without a hormonal teenager following her around."

"OKAY! I get it! I'll back off." James lost his appetite; instead tied his hands and started thinking.

God, how could I been so stupid?

"Wanna bet how long he can go this time?" Sirius asked everyone in the immediate vicinity.

"What?!" James gasped. "You traitors are betting on me?"

"How else would I buy you those really cool Nosebleed Nougats when I'm disowned and have no money?"

"I thought— well— I'm not kidding this time!" James threw his hands up in frustration when he saw everyone sniggering and shaking their heads. "Fine, I'll show you guys! I'll show you all right now!"

Without knowing what he was doing, he stood up and marched right over to Lily's side.

"Miss Evans," he cleared his throat. "Can I talk to you?"

-

Lily almost wanted to say no, but what then? No matter how much they bicker, she cannot be that mean to him — at least, not in front of everyone.

"What is it?" she asked as soon as they were in the corridor, out of everyone's earshot.

The faint morning light played on James's face, and Lily had to look away to remember him flirting with someone else last night. She had to keep looking away to remember that she had no right to be mad at him. He was just her friend.

"I'm so sorry!" He said, catching her off guard. "A lot is going on, I get that. I'm a stupid, privileged knobhead!"

What the hell? Lily stared blankly, but he just stood there breathing heavy.

"Potter, I have two hours of Transfiguration test coming up, so my head's a little muddy. What are you on about?"

James took a deep breath in. "I got the Head Boy badge yesterday."

Lily's eyes widened. "You what?! I mean, uh- congratulations! I got mine over the holidays."

She hadn't meant to sound so surprised, but everyone had assumed Lupin would get it. Most might say Dumbledore had a soft spot for James, but Lily knew if keeping Potter's wishes was on the headmaster's list, then he definitely wouldn't have dumped responsibilities onto his name. That was the very last thing he wanted. There was something more to the decision, she was sure.

"You don't have to fake it. I was rooting for Moony too. Someone gave me the badge during the party last night, and I went straight to Dumbledore. I wanted to know if he made a mistake."

Lily wanted to interrupt, but he continued, his voice a bit shaky.

"He thinks the responsibilities are not just to my house. He says they're for my own good. Says times are changing and he can count on me or some crap, I dunno."

Lily sighed at his guilt. "You don’t think you deserve the badge? James, you're a star student and captain of the Quidditch team. You’ve earned this."

"Lily, this is not actually what I wanted to talk about," James rubbed his neck, something he usually did when he was nervous. "I think I need to grow the fuck up in a lot of ways and the badge made me realize that. And so did the talk I just had with Sirius."

"My god, get to the point already! Marlene probably already ate all my pie!"

"I'm sorry for flirting with you all the time," James said, sounding stupid even to himself.

Lily was taken aback. Whatever she thought he was going to say, this wasn't it.

"I'd rather have you as a friend than no one at all," James went on, wondering why the whole thing was sounding like a breakup. "And in the middle of everything happening right now, you need all the friends you can get. This is me apologizing for putting you in a ridiculous spot time after time."

"James—"

"I'm sorry. Please don't hate me." He could taste bitterness in what he said. He could feel his voice almost about to crack. James tried to laugh, but it sounded strained. With a hurried excuse of a goodbye, he left Lily alone in the dark, suddenly cold corridor.

-

(A group of Ravenclaw girls walked past Lily Evans, all of them trying hard not to stare at her. They were mumbling about the articles in the Daily Prophet and hurrying past, as if Lily was a bringer of bad luck to everyone within ten feet.

Lily was still staring at where James was.)

-

Defense Against the Dark Arts became a less than interesting subject in lieu of the new professor. It was the second one that year, the former suddenly getting a case of Black Cat Flu.

"I hope the job curse kills him," Sirius muttered under his breath after getting a fresh batch of wear-your-robes-properly lecture from Professor Towles.

Peter gasped.

"If I wanted to hear how I'm not wearing my clothes right, I'd have stayed at Grimmauld Place." He continued, arms crossed.

"Don't threaten him while anyone's in earshot," James said disapprovingly. "Last thing we need is for him to actually pass away and you to be labelled a murderer."

"Yeah, your princess arse is never surviving Azkaban," Lupin agreed, flipping through the pages of his textbook.

"I so can!" Sirius said indignantly.

"Keep your voices down! Ten points from Gryffindor!" Towles yelled from the front of the class.

"But—"

James kicked Sirius on his legs to shut him up, then looked to the girls' side, where Lily was frowning at the professor. It wasn't news that she hated the man, but her frustration in class was more evident today.

"Towles is a right tool, isn't he?" Sirius whispered, following James's line of sight.

He knew Padfoot was talking about yesterday's incident in the very classroom, where Towles told off Lily for asking questions during "quiet reading time" and took 50 points off Gryffindor. Everyone had the right suspicion that his outburst had more to do with Lily being a muggleborn, though no one dared to voice it.

Why did Dumbledore hire a blood-purist dummy? He wondered.

"It's been a while since we did any pranks, no?" James asked, focusing his eyes back on Towles.

Sirius grinned, his entire face lighting up.

-

Every time a first-year gets warned to watch out for marauders' pranks, they wonder what exactly drove their reputation as such. Their guesses were that of poltergeist behaviour, but Peeves had already got that section covered. Within the first week of stepping into Hogwarts, each kid soon finds out how wrong they were about the extent of these pranks.

That night was no exception. A first-year student was unable to sleep and looking out the window, when she saw a literal head floating around in the grounds below.

She screamed.

-

James pulled the cloak over his head when he heard the girl, but he didn't do a good job of it. How can he run and cover himself up at the same time? He cursed quietly at how everyone seemed to get away fine with this prank — all except him.

Getting inside Towle's room wasn't that hard, because they had a certain small friend who could get into the smallest of cracks and pipes to figure out the best way to every nook of the castle. When Peter figured out the path, Sirius took creative liberties as his job. Which meant Remus had the hardest task of all, which was to figure out how exactly to execute everything without getting caught.

Thirty minutes inside the room and their job was done.

Just as muggle rock music started playing and Towles had woken up — only to be met with many, many surprises — the marauders had all escaped. All except James, whose cloak had caught the edge of the wooden bed. He knew Towles must have seen him, but he still pulled the fabric and jumped out of the window, because the actual door had closed behind Sirius's back. They thought James must have been in the lead because of his invisibility clock, and hadn't bothered turning around to check.

So James had to stumble a good ten minutes before he saw the familiar grounds, but the clock must have come off in his hurry, hence the scream that he's been spotted.

In a daze, he ran headfirst to the castle — only to be met with the Whomping Willow. He had run too close, and was within the danger zone. Dumbledore's instructions on how to calm the tree had went right out the window when James realized he was standing the furthest from where he should've been.

"Oh bollocks," he closed his eyes, ready for his life to be taken away.

Plants could be vicious. It didn't matter to a tree of hundred years that the boy who disturbed it in its sleep was the same one who knew where to touch to keep it calm. James did not pat the mark, so for it, it was just some intruder. With an incredibly audible whoosh, the Whomping Willow smashed Potter's body so hard that it took extreme power for him to cling on to the branch and not just fly across the ground. Splitting his body in half wasn't part of his plans for the night.

The tree, now recognizing the parasite was on it, started shaking itself more.

"THIS IS THE WORST PRANK EVERR!" James yelled out, clinging to the branch. He came dangerously close to being smashed on the ground, but the branch straightened up.

James went still, hardly breathing. The Willow slowly calmed down, thinking he was thrown off somewhere.

He had to act fast. He started looking around. He was on a high level, and it didn't take a genius to know he'd be dead if he tried to climb the tree and disturb it again. James looked for other options. The castle walls were quite near, and there were many open windows, but how would he get there?

If I'm doing this the Quidditch way.... and without thinking, he yelled out, "Accio broom!"

From a window to his right, a broom came swirling at him right as the tree started to wake up again.

Fight or flight mode kicked in, and James freakin' Potter jumped.

He must have been on Felix Felicis the whole night, because James was pretty sure he just evaded death for the tenth time in a row. He had clung onto the broom by forces outside his control, and he screamed (which was not much different from the little girl's earlier) and climbed on.

"Take that, you old tree!" James yelled, circling around the Whomping Willow and whooping in delight. It appeared angered, and he made a mental note to not go anywhere near it any day soon.

He then focused on the broom, gratitude filling his heart. "Let's get you back to your owner."

He turned the broom around and went back up to the huge window that it had escaped from.

He stepped inside, only to have a mini heart attack.

Oh, for Merlin's Sake! The girls' bloody dormitory?!

He quickly recognized Quidditch stuff in one corner, and deduced the broom had in fact belonged to Marlene McKinnon. The girl in question was sleeping soundly on her bed, muttering nonsense every few seconds.

If this is Marlene's room, that means it's also...

James turned to the other side and saw Lily drowned in her cotton bedsheets. He could only see the messy red bun of hair, and he thanked the gods that she slept facing the walls.

I need to get the hell out of here! James looked around for the door. Then he realized he had the invisibility cloak, so he didn't panic so much.

He put it on and went in front of the life-sized mirror, to see that his head was properly covered this time. The mirror reflected nobody except the beds, the pile of Marlene's Quidditch things, Lily's books and James's gifts. Phew.

He turned his head so fast he was sure the cloak was off again, but he didn't care.

My gifts?

For years now, James had given Lily flowers whenever she saw him in the grounds, little trinkets from Diagon Alley, and even paper notes that he made into figurines and flew to her in class. They were not met with much reaction, but James kept giving them over the years, and Lily being Lily, hadn't explicitly thrown them back in his face.

But he didn't know she saved the flowers, or that she put the Evermore Charm on them so they'd stay alive on her windowsill. She even had the paper animals stuffed into their own glass jar!

James felt light. He grinned, suddenly feeling like maybe he did have Felix Felicis after all.

-

THE NEXT DAY

-

Lily felt horrible. The imminent warnings for war, her concern for her parents, the gnawing feeling every time someone supposedly rooting for Dark Lord walks past... she wished at times she didn't know she was a witch. That she could go back to her home and live the rest of her life bickering with her sister. Too late for any of that now.

Then there were the quieter concerns — the boy.

James and his friends were sitting right in front of her today, and she hasn't had the guts to say hi to him yet. If James was trying to move on, so should she, right? Besides, McGonagall would kill her if she started a ruckus during her class.

"Why'd you turn down Ruth?" Sirius asked James in quite a loud whisper. Lily frowned at her textbook, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Who?" James replied, unbothered.

"The Ravenclaw girl who kept trying to snog you at the party!"

"Oh, I don't think I should be going around making Lily jealous."

Lily almost choked on air. Fortunately, no one heard it over Sirius scoffing.

"As if!"

"C'mon, why else would she have been irritated at me that night?"

"Maybe because she hates you and your annoying arse?"

Yes, please believe that, Lily thought helplessly.

"I think she just loves me with all her heart and is too afraid to tell me, right, Evans?" James turned around, and Lily jumped up in surprise.

"Excuse me?" She asked, regaining her posture with a frown. Her blush hadn't quite faded off though.

James grinned wider. Lily felt exposed, like he had went deep inside her mind and plucked off a thought that she wasn't supposed to have.

"Here," he handed over a paper frog that he charmed into moved on its own. "My token of deep, deep love."

"You're stupid," Lily rolled her eyes, but took the frog anyways. She was impressed by his handiwork, and almost smiled just as wide as him. He turned back when McGonagall called, and she was happy for it.

"I thought you were over flirting with her," Sirius whispered, still in Lily's earshot.

"Me? Over Lily?" James scoffed. "Not in this life mate."

Then he turned around and gave her a wink — something so typically James Potter — but this time it didn't make her want to punch his face.

She smiled and flipped him off instead, which was as close to flirting from Lily he was going to get.

For now anyways.

-------

THE END

-------

Small note!

No one will ever know how proud I am of this little story! I know it might not be that great, but it's my first jily fic and I'm so excited to share it. I usually write x reader fics, but I've been wanting to tap into the waters of usual fanfics, though I didn't know if it'd have much engagement as self-insert ones.

It's also been a near impossible dream of mine to cook up a long fic featuring marauders focusing on the Order times. I know it'll never be as good as The Last Enemy (chdarling on ao3) or ATYD, but if anyone would wanna read smth like that, lemme know and I'll get my amateur ass on the job!

--------

Ty for reading, my self insert masterlist is here, and if you guys want to commission anything, read this post! I also have a kofi if you'd like to support me :)

[vestaclinicpod]

went to see romulus today and all I can say is that we do need at least one (1) more alien film where the day is saved through the power of queer love

[daisywords]

\

[grey-yyeepy]

i hate everything

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [17]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: smut (not detailed at all) angst

wc: 4851

Chapter 17: Slow Down

Week One of May

Matt had given me the space I asked for.

But that didn’t make it easier.

The first week was brutal.

He still showed up to shoots, as he was required to. Still made small talk with me between takes. I responded because it was work, and because pretending was easier than breaking.

But I couldn’t shake his words.

“It’s manipulating.”

That one line echoed over and over in my head like a bruise I kept pressing.

How could he even think that? How could he say that to me?

Yesterday, during a break, I was standing near the lighting station, pretending to scroll on my phone, when I felt his presence beside me.

He held out a drink.

“Iced matcha,” he said quietly. “No sweetener, extra ice.”

I hesitated before taking it. My fingers brushed his, and it felt like a bolt of something I wasn’t ready to name.

“Thanks,” I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

He didn’t leave right away.

“I… I know I said something awful, Daphne,” he said after a moment. His voice was low, careful, like stepping around broken glass. “But I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t. I was angry and scared, and that’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

I stayed quiet, holding the matcha like it might fall apart in my hand.

“I miss you,” he added, softer now. “Every second.”

I finally looked up at him. His eyes were tired, red at the edges.

But all I could think about was how quickly he’d said it. Like it hadn’t even hurt him. Like the words didn’t gut me.

“I have to get back to work,” I said, stepping away.

His hand fell back to his side, empty.

Week Two of May 

By week two, the numbness had settled in.

It was quieter now—no more crying myself to sleep, no more clutching my phone at night hoping for a text.

I stopped avoiding him completely at work. We spoke when we needed to, exchanged looks that lasted a little too long, but that was it.

We were two people orbiting each other in silence.

Professionally fine. Personally ruined.

He hadn’t tried to talk often, I think that hurt more than if he had.

Maybe he was letting me go, because maybe he finally got tired.

I wasn’t so sure, though. I still caught him stealing glances when he thought I wasn’t looking, and he still lingered near the elevator each morning, like he was waiting for me to arrive.

I was packing up my camera gear after a long shoot when he passed by me near the exit. He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe.

“You looked tired today,” he said. His tone wasn’t teasing. It was soft. Observant.

I blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

He gave a slow nod but didn’t move.

“You’ve lost weight,” he murmured. “You’re not eating properly, are you?”

That comment made my throat tighten. 

He still noticed.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, sharper this time.

“I still care about you, sweetheart,” he said, just loud enough for only me to hear. “I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I do.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to.

So I zipped my bag, walked right past him, and didn’t look back.

I knew deep down I didn’t want to lose Matt forever. However,  there was a part of me that just couldn’t let go—couldn’t let myself be that vulnerable again.

No matter how many times I replayed that night in my head, I couldn’t shake the fear that he meant every word he said.

Maybe I was wrong for holding off on telling Noah after all this time…But I had my reasons, my doubts, my fears, and those things didn’t just disappear because I missed him.

Week Three of May 

I missed him.

Gosh, I really missed him.

It hurt in ways I didn’t have words for.

The way his hand used to find mine without even thinking. The way he’d gently brush my hair out of my face when I was editing, or how his eyes would search for me the second he walked into a room.

It was all still there, etched into the silence between us, and lately… I’d been wondering if maybe I was ready.

To open up. To talk.

But life had a way of testing me right when I thought I was steadying my feet again.

It was a long shoot. The client was already difficult—loud, controlling, the type of man who made every person on set a little tense.

I was trying to adjust the lighting angle, moving quietly like always, when he snapped.

“Are you seriously going to stand in the way again?” he barked from across the room. “You’ve been slowing down this entire shoot.”

I froze.

Everyone turned.

My fingers gripped my camera strap. “I was just fixing—”

He scoffed and cut me off, louder this time. “Dammit, I swear. You photographers are all the same. Hired because you’re pretty, not because you know what the hell you’re doing.”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating. I blinked hard, throat tightening.

I didn’t know what to say.

But before I could speak, I heard a voice behind me.

Firm. Cold. Controlled—but dangerous.

“Say that again.”

Matt.

He stepped forward from behind the monitors, jaw clenched, eyes burning with restrained fury.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Matt said, voice low but razor-sharp. “Say that again. To her face.”

“Look, I didn’t mean anything—”

“No. the fuck you trying to belittle her for? To make her feel small in front of an entire crew?” Matt took another step forward. “your acting like she’s not the reason your shoot doesn’t look like shit.”

The guy shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that deep, man.”

Matt didn’t back down. “She’s hasn’t even been here for a year and everyone agrees with her, so who the fuck are you? If you ever speak to her like that again, I’ll make sure you don’t work with anyone in this industry, let alone me.”

Silence fell over the room.

My heart was pounding. I wasn’t sure if it was from the insult or from the way Matt had stepped in, like he never stopped being mine.

The man mumbled something under his breath and walked off.

I stood frozen.

Matt turned to me, softer now. “Are you good?”

I nodded, eyes glossy but holding it together.

And for the first time in weeks… I almost reached for his hand.

Almost. 

Week Four of May 

I was sitting in a quiet corner of the café with Kara, one of the few people I trusted in this industry. She was my safe place to vent when the weight of everything felt unbearable.

“I’m telling you,” Kara said, sipping her latte, “I’m due for a raise. Seven thousand a month isn’t enough, especially if I want to move to New York next year.” 

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, we all deserve more.”

She laughed, but there was an edge of frustration in her voice. “Seriously. I’m a personal photographer for this rising model—her brand is blowing up. But seven grand barely covers rent in the city, let alone anything else.”

I blinked, startled. Seven thousand? That was way less than what I made. I didn’t say a word, though. Something about the way Kara talked made me hold back—like this was just her reality, and I wasn’t supposed to burst her bubble.

She glanced over at me and smiled. “You’re probably making that too, right? Everyone in this game does.”

I forced a smile, nodding, but my mind was racing. If she only knew.

That night, curiosity gnawed at me. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kara’s words—and the fact that my paycheck was always so steady, so much higher than I expected.

The next day, I found myself standing outside the payroll office, heart pounding. I hadn’t planned to go snooping, but something inside me demanded answers.

I took a deep breath and asked the clerk, a kind-faced woman named June, if I could see a copy of my payment records.

June raised an eyebrow but nodded, pulling up the file on her computer.

Scrolling through the recent months, my eyes caught something strange—an extra deposit, labeled “Matthew Bernard Sturniolo Account”—with a sum far larger than my usual pay.

My heart skipped.

I looked up at June, my voice barely steady. “What’s this? This extra payment?”

She smiled softly. “Oh, that’s a private transfer from Mr. Sturniolo himself. It’s been going on for a while now. He asked us to keep it confidential.”

My mind raced—Matt had been the one paying me more all this time. More than I ever realized, more than I’d dared hope.

I knew $20 000 for a photographer a month had to be too good to be true. 

I felt a strange mix of emotions—grateful, vulnerable, overwhelmed.

He’d been supporting me quietly, without fanfare or expectation. 

As I stared at the screen, the weight of what I’d just seen hit me like a tidal wave. 

Deposit: Matthew Bernard Sturniolo – $13 000

An extra payment, quietly added month after month.

I blinked, heart pounding so loud I was sure June could hear it.

He’d been the one—Matt. All this time, the extra money I’d been counting on without knowing the source was coming from him.

My hands trembled as I took the printout, barely able to focus.

I left the office in a daze, the hallway around me feeling unreal.

Every late payment is made easier; my student loans were paid off almost immediately. Every emergency is covered without worry. Every little luxury I’d allowed myself—the nicer meals, the new camera lenses—had been because of him. 

I thought about all the times I’d told myself I was making it on my own.

But the truth was, Matt had been there all along, quietly holding me up when I didn’t even know I needed it.

Outside, the sunlight hit my face, but I felt like I was walking through shadows.

Part of me wanted to scream, part of me just wanted to cry.

How much had he done for me, without asking for anything?

And what did that mean for us?

My chest tightened with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

But one thing was clear—this wasn’t just about money.

It was about care.

As I walked out of the payroll office, the weight of the discovery pressed heavily on my chest. Matt had been quietly supporting me all along, far more than I ever imagined.

The realization stirred something deep inside me. Gratitude, yes, but also a growing curiosity. If he’d been covering my paycheck secretly, what else had he taken care of without telling me?

A sudden thought struck me: therapy.

I’d never asked how I was officially covered. I just assumed it was through some standard health plan. But now, I needed to know.

I made my way to the head office—the place that handled employee benefits and insurance. My hands felt clammy as I approached the front desk.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to ask about my health insurance, specifically for therapy sessions.”

The woman behind the desk smiled politely. “Sure, let me check your file.”

Minutes later, she looked up, a little apologetic. “I’m sorry, but your plan doesn’t include coverage for therapy or mental health services.”

My heart sank. “So, none at all?” 

“Nope. Those sessions would be out-of-pocket.”

I swallowed hard. 

That meant Matt must have been paying for my therapy, too.

The quiet support, the secret help—it wasn’t just my paycheck. It was every appointment, every session––that he had suggested I go to. 

A mixture of shock and warmth flooded through me.

How many times had he been there, behind the scenes, carrying my burdens so I didn’t have to?

I left the office with a heavy but somehow lighter heart, clutching the knowledge that Matt’s care ran deeper than I’d ever known.

By the time I got back to the apartment I shared with Noah, my head was spinning.

I dropped my bag near the door and sank into the couch without even taking off my shoes. The city buzzed outside our windows, but inside, everything was still. Too still.

I stared at nothing, arms wrapped tightly around myself. My thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

Matt had been paying me more than everyone else, months of it, slipping it into my pay without ever once bringing it up. And now… the therapy.

Those sessions had saved me. Saved me from myself on the nights I couldn’t sleep, on the days when the world felt too heavy, on the mornings I wanted to curl up and disappear.

And he… he had known. And still, he never used it to hold power over me. Never brought it up in arguments. Never once asked for anything in return.

He just did it. Because that’s who he was.

I felt a knot in my throat. The kind that comes when your chest is too full of feelings you’ve tried to bury for too long.

I didn’t know if it was love. Or guilt. Or heartbreak.

Maybe all three.

But I knew one thing—I wanted to see him.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.

I stood up, wiping beneath my eyes even though I hadn’t fully cried. I went to my room, quickly changing out of my work clothes and into a plain white tee and jeans

I pulled my hair into a loose clip.

My hands were shaking, but my heart felt strangely steady.

I grabbed my phone and my keys.

I didn’t text him. I didn’t call.

I stepped into the hallway of my building. My fingers were curled tightly around my phone as I pressed the button for the elevator. The light blinked.

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm my heart.

This was the right thing. I needed to talk to him.

The elevator dinged.

I took a small step forward, expecting the doors to open and take me down. 

But instead—

They slid open…

And he stepped out.

Matt.

Hands in his pockets, standing there in a black tee and black jeans. 

His eyes locked onto mine instantly.

And for a second, we both just stood there. Frozen in place.

There he was—right in front of me, like the universe knew we had to meet this way. 

He blinked, like he wasn’t sure I was real.

“Daphne?” His voice was soft. “I… I was just coming to see you.”

My mouth parted, but no words came out at first. I felt breathless.

“I was coming to see you,” I whispered back, stunned.

I stared at him for a beat too long—long enough for the silence to stretch between us, thick with everything we hadn’t said.

Then I swallowed, lowering my gaze, and turned slightly, stepping aside.

“You wanna come in?” I asked quietly.

His eyes softened, and he gave the smallest nod.

 “Yeah,” he said, just above a whisper.

I turned fully, walking back toward the apartment door with him just behind me. My hands felt clumsy as I unlocked it, the familiar click echoing in the still hallway.

I stepped inside first, leaving the door open behind me. I didn’t turn around right away—I needed a second. 

The door clicked softly behind him, and the silence that followed felt like it was holding its breath. I stayed still, staring at the floor by the couch, unsure if I could trust my voice just yet.

Then I heard him exhale. That deep, familiar breath he always took when he was trying to steady himself.

“I didn’t know if you’d open the door,” Matt said, voice low.

I turned slightly, just enough to see him standing near the entrance, hands at his sides, eyes searching my face like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look too long.

“I almost didn’t come,” he added, taking a step closer. “But then I thought… if there was even the smallest chance you’d let me talk to you—I had to take it.”

His voice cracked just a little at the end, and that tiny break in him made something in me ache.

“I didn’t want to go another night wondering if I lost you for good.”

I stayed silent.

Not because I didn’t have anything to say. 

But I didn’t know where to begin.

Matt stood across the room, waiting. Hoping.

Then slowly, he stepped closer.

Close enough that I could smell his cologne—familiar and overwhelming.

He reached for my hands, gently wrapping his fingers around mine.

They were warm. Steady.

His eyes found mine, and his voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, like he needed to say it until it meant something. “I know I’ve said it already, but… these past four weeks? They’ve been hell, Daphne.”

His grip tightened—just slightly. Just enough to anchor me to the moment.

“I saw you every day at work and still felt like you weren’t there,” Matt said, his voice raw. “I’d come home and just… sit in silence. The place felt odd without you.”

He exhaled shakily, thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand.

“I know I hurt you. I said things I can’t take back,” he continued. “But I don’t want to fight with you, sweetheart. That’s not what this is. That’s never what we were supposed to be.”

He paused, like the next words were caught in his throat.

“I let my frustration take over. I got selfish and started thinking only about how I felt… and I didn’t stop to understand you.”

His eyes lifted to mine, glassy and full of something heavy.

“Gosh, Daphne… I’m so sorry,” he whispered, like it came from the deepest part of him. “I hate knowing I made you feel unsafe. Or doubted. Or small. Because all I’ve ever wanted was to protect you.”

His voice broke slightly, and it made my chest squeeze.

“I don’t care if we tell everybody or no one at all. I just want you. In whatever way you’re ready to be mine again.” 

He looked at me then, not demanding. Not begging. Just hoping.

Waiting.

I looked down at our hands—his thumbs gently stroking over my knuckles like he was afraid I might disappear if he stopped.

His warmth seeped into me, steady and familiar. The kind of warmth I hadn’t realized how much I missed until I was standing here, finally letting myself feel it again.

“I’ve missed you every day,” he said, softer now. “Even when we were standing inches apart, I still missed you.”

I blinked, tears quietly burning behind my eyes. I still hadn’t spoken, not because I didn’t want to—but because if I did, I knew I might break.

He took a tiny step closer, his voice barely a whisper. “I replayed that night in my head more times than I can count. The look on your face when I said those words… It haunted me, Daphne. I couldn’t sleep. I’d hear your voice in my head and just—fuck—I’d do anything to take it back.”

His hand let go of one of mine, just to gently touch my cheek. He didn’t push me to look at him. He just held it there, grounding me.

“I let my fear talk that night,” he murmured. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I know I messed up. But I love you. Gosh, I love you so much.”

Just like that, a tear slipped down my cheek, and then another.

But I didn’t look away. I looked right at him, eyes full of tears, heart cracked open.

Then, quietly, finally, I whispered, “I missed you too.”

Matt’s eyes softened instantly, like those four words stitched something back together inside him.

“You did?” he whispered.

I nodded slowly, blinking back more tears. “Every single day.” 

He stood there, searching my face, making sure I meant it. 

“I never stopped loving you,” I added, my voice trembling. “I wanted to be mad at you. I was mad at you… But I wouldn’t stop loving you.”

That cracked something in him.

His arms slipped around my waist and pulled me into him, holding me tightly against his chest like he’d been waiting to exhale for weeks. I melted into the hug, arms wrapping around his middle, face buried in his shirt. 

I looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with everything I couldn’t quite put into words.

Without thinking, I leaned in and pressed my lips softly against his.

The kiss was gentle at first, tender and searching—like a promise.

Matt’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. 

Slowly, I pulled back, my breath mingling with his.

A small, mischievous smile curved my lips as I took his hand in mine—warm, steady, familiar.

Without a word, I tugged him gently toward my bedroom, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He followed willingly, fingers intertwined with mine, like we were reconnecting piece by piece.

The door closed softly behind us, shutting out the world and leaving just the two of us

Matt smirked, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief as he pulled back just enough to tease,

“So, you’re making the first move now?”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t let go of his hand. “Maybe I’m just trying to catch you off guard.”

He laughed softly, closing the small space between us again. “It’s working.”

Our lips met once more, slow and lingering, and I felt his hands gently tracing the curve of my waist.

“You wanna go slow, or?” he whispered against my mouth.

I grinned, fingers sliding up under his shirt. “Just shut up Matt.”

Piece by piece, our clothes came off—his shirt slipping over broad shoulders, my sweater pulled off with his help.

His hands trailed down my sides, sending shivers through me as he leaned in to kiss the hollow of my neck.  I let out a soft sigh, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Matt…” I whispered, my voice shaky but sure.

He looked up, eyes dark with something I’d only just begun to understand—desire, tenderness, and something like reverence.

He brushed his thumb across my cheek, his breath warm against my skin.

“Are you sure you want this right now?” he asked gently, searching my eyes.

I nodded, heart pounding.

“Yeah.”

Slowly, carefully, he lowered me back onto the bed, his hands never leaving my body. Every kiss, every touch, was slow and deliberate, like he was learning the map of me all over again. 

The world outside disappeared as we moved together, a rhythm building between us—soft gasps and whispered names filling the quiet room.

“I love you, Daphne,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m here. Always.”

I smiled through my tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I love you, too, Matt.”

By the time he was inside me, the only sounds filling the room were our gasps and moans, mingling with the soft creak of my queen-size bed beneath us.

Every movement sent waves of sensation through my body, raw and electrifying. Matt’s hands held me close, grounding me with his warmth, while his breath brushed against my skin in hurried whispers.

We moved together in a slow, steady rhythm—each touch, each sigh, weaving us closer, deeper.

Time seemed to stretch and blur, leaving only the intimacy of this moment, the connection we’d fought so hard to reclaim.

His voice trembled as he whispered my name, and I clung to him. 

knowing this was where I was meant to be.

With Matt. 

He loved me, and I loved him.

As we slowly came down from our highs, the room was filled with nothing but the quiet rhythm of our panting breaths and gentle gasps.

Matt’s arms remained wrapped around me, his heartbeat steady against my chest.

I traced soft circles on his skin, savoring the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of him. For a long moment, neither of us spoke, just holding each other. 

Matt’s fingers gently brushed a stray lock of hair from my face as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Daphne.”

His voice was soft, filled with awe and tenderness.

He trailed quiet praises against my skin—little murmurs that made my heart flutter.

We lay tangled together beneath the blanket, our legs intertwined, the warmth between us wrapping around like a shield.

His eyes never left mine, full of something raw and real, as if he were memorizing every inch of me.

“I’m so lucky,” he breathed, his hand tracing lazy patterns along my arm.

I smiled, feeling safe and cherished in the quiet intimacy of that moment.

We settled into a comfortable cuddle, his arms wrapped securely around me as I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

The quiet warmth between us was a balm to all the tangled emotions of the past weeks.

After a moment, I looked up at him, my voice soft but certain. 

“Matt… the next time we see Noah, I want us to tell him. No more secrets.”

He held me tighter for a second, then lifted his head to meet my gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked gently, searching my eyes.

I nodded, a small, confident smile curling my lips. Yeah. I’m ready.”

His expression softened, relief and love mingling in his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

Another thought stirred in my chest, one I couldn’t ignore anymore. I looked up at him, my fingers lightly tracing patterns along his chest.

“You know… this job’s really helped me,” I said slowly, watching his face.

Matt gave a small smile, brushing my hair back. “Yeah? I mean, the company pays well.”

I lifted my head a little, catching his eyes.

“Mm,” I hummed, then reached up and gently tilted his chin so he’d really look at me.

“Or is it that you pay well?”

His face froze for just a beat—long enough for me to see the truth flicker across it. Then he gave the smallest, most sheepish smile, one corner of his mouth twitching.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that,” he murmured.

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips.

“I did,” I whispered. “So why?”

He exhaled, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand.

“No reason,” Matt said with a small shrug, eyes soft. “I just wanted to.”

I stared at him for a moment, overwhelmed by how casually he said it, like it was nothing.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered.

His fingers slid beneath my chin, tilting my face toward his. “Be quiet,” he said gently, almost teasing. “I wanted to.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite the lump in my throat.

“Okay… then what about therapy?”

That made him laugh, quiet and warm, the kind of laugh that started in his chest.

“How are you figuring out all my secrets?” he grinned, shaking his head.

“So it was you,” I said, narrowing my eyes playfully.

He nodded, still smiling. “Yeah. That was me, too. I figured if I told you outright, you’d find some reason to turn it down.”

“You were right,” I muttered.

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb along my cheek. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of you not getting help because of money. Not when I could make it easier.”

I looked at him, eyes soft but slightly scolding. “Matt… you don’t have to keep spending extra money on me.”

He sighed, leaned in closer, and gave me that familiar look—the one that made my stomach flutter.

“Be quiet,” he murmured again, brushing his nose against mine. “I want to. I’m your boyfriend, sweetheart. That’s my job—to take care of you.”

I blinked, heart squeezing in my chest. “…That’s very husband of you,” I whispered, a small smile playing on my lips.

Matt laughed under his breath, his hand settling on my waist.

“Well,” he said, eyes locking with mine, “maybe I’m just getting in some practice.” 

Matt’s grin deepened as he leaned in, capturing my lips in another kiss—this one messier, more eager.

I laughed softly against his mouth, my fingers sliding into his hair as he shifted us, pulling me on top of him.

His hands were everywhere—my waist, my thighs, my back—like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been starved for this. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against my skin, kissing down my neck.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I whispered, breathless as I kissed him again.

His hands slid up dangerously close to my core, just as I was reaching for his—

The door flung open.

Matt and I froze. Mind you, still naked under the covers. 

My head whipped toward the door.

Standing in the doorway.

Mouth hanging open.

Eyes wide.

Noah. 

He yelled.

“What the fuck?”

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: now we get to the good stuff mwahhahhah! like and reblog! mwah] –ceyana

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[tonycries]

OL-F*CK-TORY ETHICS?!

Synopsis. Pheromone perfume? Should’ve thought about the olfactory ethics of driving him absolutely wiId with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pheromone perfume (they’re affected), they go FÉRAL, slight aphrodísiacs, creampíes, dúmbification, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, overstím, really néedy boys, GOJO’S POWERS, full neIsons, making Geto whímper, handcúffs (Geto), rough s, p sIapping, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Yes, I think I’m a comedian for that title.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BREAK HIM!

“P-please-” 

“Hm?”

“Please, doll…”

And it’s the first time in your life that you’ve heard Toji Fushiguro beg - the first ever time in his life that he has. Low, rasping over the deafening snap! of the poor headboard splitting in half, “Mercy- m’begging ya. Mercy.”

It’s hard to think that just a few hours ago, he was trying not to snicker with smugness - pheromone perfume. Really? As if anything in that shiny, half-off bottle could make him lose his composure. 

“Such a silly girl–” Toji had rolled his sage eyes down at you. Tutting at the way you were impatiently sprawled over his lap, waiting for his word. Leisurely, he’d leaned in– well whatever his lady wants. “Told ya already, this stuff isn’t gonna m-make me-”

Oh.

And that was hours ago. Hours. 

But here Toji was bullying his furiously sweat-slicked face into the heady crook of your neck - taking only one singular whiff before he flinches. Hips rutting mindlessly into yours with a smack! “O-oh, we’re not making it hngh! outta this alive, ma.”

It was the fourth time in the past few minutes that he’s babbling those very words into your perspired skin. The fourth time. 

He was broken.

Managing out only a few throaty whimpers when you’re shuffling onto your elbows, all you have to do is give one fluttering squeeze of your gummy walls before something hits your arched spine with a wet splat!

Multiple. Tears. 

“F-fuuuuck–” He’s hissing, sexy baritone thickened with clingy sobs. And the only thing sloppier than Toji’s unsteady tone, was his cock. Ruthless. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–”

“Need a lil’ h-help, baby?” You find yourself purring, head tilting ever-so-slightly over your shoulder to bare Toji with even more of your scented throat. Clouded wafts of it puffing over to his darkened features and making him gasp– “Because-”

In only a split-second, you’re not even sure what you were about to say - what happened other than Toji shoving you face-first into the cushy pillow in nanoseconds. 

Staggering strength leaving the bulging biceps on his big, beefy arms flex, and you keening away into your soft landing. Boneless legs stumbling onto the bed once he tilts his bodyweight onto yours and makes you stumble, “T-Tooji—!”

Oh, the sound of his name in your honeyed tone makes Toji’s hulking voice break out in shivers. 

“S-s’it turn you on ta see me like this?” Punctured with solid, pounding plaps! of his bloated tip against your springy cervix, such a staggering size that tenderized every sliver inside your heated cunt without even trying. His massive arms tremble, “To see me a-all pathetic and ngh- weak?”

Weak. 

But the way he was pinning you down onto the creaking bedcoils and slamming jagged bruises onto your mounds of flesh from behind was anything but.

“M-maybe?” Oh, he definitely was fucking you stupid - because you find yourself giggling. Globs of slippery drool overspilling from your slack maw and drenching the puffy pillow underneath you. So wet n’ utterly filthy that it makes your thighs squeeze, “You’re s-so cute, Toji.”

“Don’t- don’t you fuckin’–” Immediately leaving one spank on your puffed-up clit. Two. Three, just for good measure- shit, Toji really can’t help but bring those sappy, glazed-over fingerpads to his mouth and sucking. 

And the sugary sweet taste makes the man moan. 

“Fuck- fuck, did that p-perfume make her taste even sweeter or what?” 

Before you know it, Toji’s hard, Herculean front is sagging downwards into yours - hunching over, collapsing. He can barely keep his eyelids held open, let alone his glissading body. 

Sinking you ever-deeper into the plush mattress, you swear you could count each and every rock-hard ab pressing into you. The curvy massage of Toji’s pecs rendering your mouth to let off a soft mewl.

And he’s rough above you. Still fucking you in a way that makes your sturdy bed splinter. Dark tufts from Toji’s happy trail scratching the very tip-top of your papping ass with every merciless whack.

“Gonna tell ya a s-secret-” He spills in breathy puffs against your ear, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose against where your perfume was the most potent. Drinking you in. Gasping. “-b-better not tell ngh- anyone- got it, ma?”

And you almost get the urge to tilt your head back and confirm that this was really your Toji.

Because not only were his choked-up words making you dizzy, so was the way that he sounded right about not. Voice numerous octaves higher, cracking. 

You’d have half the mind to tease him about it if the entirety of your fuzzy head wasn’t completely overtaken by simply the thought of Toij Toji Toji-

“Oi- oi!” Three harshly repeated smacks to the side of your cheek wrench you from your little daydream, until you’re being manhandled with a few fingers around your throat to gaze up at the man himself. Growling, “N-no zonin’ out on me just yet- gotta tell ya h-how much it turns me on, too…”

Oh? Oh.

And as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Can’t slow down the prattling words spat into your mouth - all teeth and something lecherous. 

You’re squealing once one of his splayed-out palms rover to the bumpy outline of him fucking a tummy bulge into you. 

Skimming across until he could practically feel the rapid ba-dump–! ba-dump–! ba-dump–! being crashed into all your magical spots, “L-look at you taking it allll. Look how hard I am- feel how hngh- fucking hard–” 

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for you to know. For you to feel.

Another heavy gulp of the thick air surrounding you two - of that familiar candied smell - and he’s like an animal. Swollen cock stretching your goopy walls until they were wiiidely agape, throbbing a few solid centimeters wider in circumference. 

“How fucking big. Yeah? Hngh- t-takin’ it all like a big girl, aren’t ya?” 

Getting harder just from the perfume. From you. 

One hand desperately claws at his own bustling bulge, the other smearing over your overstuffed pussy.

“O-oh, god-” Your eyes sprint needily to the back of your head, head pushing into the soaked pillows. Toji’s ministrations were heavenly, rubbing quick, jerky heart all over your sugar-coated clit. Faster. “K-keep doing that n’ m’gonna c-cum.”

“M’only getting harder. Needier- fuck, I need you-” Swirling his fat thumb in circles right on time with his globular tip, “My big girl- w-with her ngh- big perfumes. Fuck-” You don’t think Toji even registers when he plants a delicate peck where your scent was the strongest. Moaning. Before pressing two more, three, four- “Don’t want- Need you to c-cum f’me. Need to feel that ngh- pretty pussy cum ‘round my big fuckin’ cock.”

You’re raking your nails down his toned forearms, “Close. C-close.”

“Fucking cum.”

And when you so, your silken soft walls are squeezing Toji’s veiny shaft so tight that it takes him everything in him to fuck you through each white-hot peak. Dragging you across your starry high and then some-

Wiping away a trickling spray of his own drool, Toji feels himself laugh - low and humorless. You’ve found his weakness.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. CEO

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. The perfect sweetheart.

But that was the complete opposite of the way that said Nanami Kento currently had you shoved face-down into his cool mahogany office desk, your delirious tears spilling over in rippling puddles over the expensive wood while he fucked you like he hated you.

“Fuck-” he’s spitting into your open maw, fingers loosening his overpriced tie. Your popped ears ring with a sharp riiiip–! once he tugs your tight satin skirt even higher, rough. “Fuck- not again, darling.”

Before you can even think of gurgling out any coherent syllables, his ragged palm comes striking down on the surface mere inches away from your face with a deafening SLAM!

Meaty thighs rippling with copious shivers from right behind you - Nanami was letting himself heave, he was letting his muscular body pin you down. Sliding the ladder-like ridges of his abs down your arched back.

“Shit. Shit shit shit- not again. M’not supposed ta-” Cutting himself off - gasping - and it’s a sheer miracle that he can even manage to wrench out those growling words at this point. Breath puncturing with a low ah! ah! ah! after every hit of his toned hips against your ass. “I don’t…don’t know why-”

Almost…feral.

You’re both letting your heads drop down at a drunken pace to catch the splat! of those first few ribbons of cum being slipped past your folds. 

Every bludgeoning inch of Nanami’s coral pink crownhead plugs your leaky hole full. He’s fucking in those dewdrops of seed to maze across your gummy walls, leaving sweltering hot geysers pooling on your cervix.

So hot. 

And in the corner of your eye, you’re catching him reel those powerful hips back until only the very tip of his swollen cock was softly pecking your entrance. “Can’t- can’t stop cumming- fuck!”

“Wh-what?” You’re not sure if you heard him right.

“Can’t stop, m’sorry–” He draws a slow five circles around your quivering hole with the very edge. A glossy white lip gloss that cakes over your pussy folds like icing. “Won’t stop cumming. Haaah- your cute cunt…s’drivin’ me mad.”

You feel Nanami’s round-ended thumb plug up the weeping orifice right in the middle of his cockhead, trying- failing to stop his trickling rivulets of creamy seed. Before letting out a pained huff and filling you once more to the very brim–

It was so much. Too much. And it just pained him to not be all sunken inside your hot, pretty pussy.

You whimper at the taut stretch, stumbling onto your unsteady elbows to peek at your husband. “I-is everything alright, Ken?”

Desperate.

You haven’t seen Nanami look this gone - eyes so hooded they were almost shuttered closed, mouth forever parted in awe, cheeks burning with a bright red blush - since the first time he ever fucked you.

So warm and dizzy. 

Your fluttery walls squeeze involuntarily around his puffed-up veins, as if you’re trying to memorize every jagged pattern. Heart racing once leans in with a vulgarly handsome snarl-

“Still here.” He gruffs out a throaty murmur into your rapidly beating pulse, teeth nipping dangerously over the drumming staccato as if to warn look what I can do, my love. And the expression plastered all over his face is nothing if not crazed, “Still there.”

Fuck, that same mantra over n’ over again.

“Wh-what do you mean, Ken?” It takes everything in you to voice out, even the leaking cum that Nanami scoops up dutifully doesn’t compare to just how much wetter your cunt gets at the hoarse baritone of his voice. He was so effortlessly sexy.

“It’s- it’s still there, darling.” And you’ve never heard your stoic husband sound so…ruined. Like he was on the verge of crying - or damn near breaking you in half. Or both.

And how could Nanami Kento have become the boss if he didn’t multitask?  

He was still pounding long, rummaging inches into you after every syllable spoken - hitting the bruised and battered target of your g-spot with a sickly sweet ba-dump! every single time. Not even slowing down to let himself catch his breath after his previous orgasm.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because even though Nanami’s molten eyes were stinging with tears from the utter sensitivity, even though he could feel his hefty balls flinch tenderly every time they thwacked against the front of your cunt - he still found something dark and deep inside of him begging for more more more. 

Body moving before he could even control.

In only nanoseconds, Nanami interlaces a clawed grip around your throat to haul you up like some glamorized doll. Eyes widening, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and gasps.

“Th-this-” And Nanami Kento never stutters, he never lets his statuesque facade crack with the beginnings of something that almost looks shy. Your stomach twists at the way his cerise lower lip wobbles adorably, “-what is this, my love?”

“Hmm–? Oh.” And then it finally hits you. “A n-new perfume?”

Although it looks like it wasn’t just a perfume. Fuck, you should’ve looked at the packaging a little closer. 

But Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a word. Does nothing but let his lungs drag in a generous heaval of your scent.

And it’s enough to send his needy cock crashing into the very bottom of your sloppy pussy. Your hands scramble for anything - and land on the golden name plate emblazoned with CEO NANAMI while he draws up a looong wet glide. Prying apart the papping mounds of your ass to rut into you impossibly deeper. 

Nanami’s vision clouds and he’s not sure if it’s from the force of the countless orgasms or simply you. His gorgeous wife. 

Wait- wife?

Before he knows it - before he can stop himself - he’s babbling away, “Marry me- marry me, my love.”

“But…” You’re reaching over to tangle your fingertips through his dishevelled strands of gold with a smile. Thumbing away that perspired furrow in his brow, “We’re already hah! married, Kento.”

Oh?

And Nanami Kento trusts you above him. Which is why he finds his eyes rovering down to steal a glance at your pretty ring finger and- oh. You were right. 

“Mhm— tha’s me, Kento. Your husband.” He’s breathing out, one hand tracing over the staggeringly large rock homed prettily on your wedding ring. 

And the other- the other was letting his fat fingerpads swipe down your buttery slit, topping itself with sweltering hot ounces of cum. Before promptly pushing past your wobbly lips, “Now suck ‘nless you want the whole office to hear about your ph-pheromone perfume.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - T-take it, dammit-

“You- you bitch.” Geto Suguru looked so pretty like this - amethyst eyes fighting to stay open in anger and need, curtaining inky hair splayed out like a halo underneath him. Each growling snarl of his only growing raspier by the minute, “Fucking knew this would h-happen, didn’t you?”

Did you just hear the oh-so-suave Geto Suguru stutter?

And it’s just about all you can do to keep yourself from snickering, hands planting precariously onto the delicious curve of his deltoids. The bulging flex of his toned muscles makes your mouth water, “Oh? I don’t know what you mean, Sugu—”

Geto’s rolling his eyes - but his hips were speaking a completely different language. Rolling up off of the sticky hold of the bedsheets to give your g-spot a good, lengthy skim of his ruby-red tip.

He’s tugging one shackled wrist, “S’that why ya have me in this, gorgeous?” 

Ah, and how could you forget your favorite part about tonight? 

Those fuzzy pink handcuffs that you’d goaded your dear boyfriend into wearing, all smug smiles and chuckles until you’d leaned down to give him an innocent peck. And then let him smell-

“Sh-shit. Look what you’ve done t’me.” He’s hissing into your loosened mouth, snatching your pouted lips into such a bruising, bruising kiss. Sharpened canines digging into your bottom lip, he practically gulps in the breaths of your special perfume. “You and th-this heavenly pussy and that- godforsaken pheromone perfume.”

You were making a fool out of him - all with a “special perfume” that he’d bought for you at your pleas. Idiot, he didn’t even read the box before gifting it to you.

Geto throws his head back with a drawling grunt when the only reply he gets is your pretty smile. “Fuck- fuck!”

Voice pitching up in volume higher and higher- and he was sure he looked crazed right about now. Hips rutting cleanly off of the mattress to spearhead you with so many copious inches. More. 

It was already hard enough keeping himself smooth n’ composed every time he usually sunk past your velvety walls - you drove him wild without even trying. But now? 

Now this stupid “perfume” of yours was here to do the very same thing, only tenfold because it was his beautiful girl wearing it.

Oh.

Geto thanks he can feel himself going wild.

The extra heavy-duty handcuffs sing out a metallic creak–! once he tugs particularly harshly, trembling fingertips aching to feel every inch of your glissading body. You were riding him at such a maddening tempo. Your hips hitting the very back of his generously curved balls, before gyrating your puffy clit down in a slooow grind up his toned abdomen — but he wanted more.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when Geto was like this.

“When- when I break out of these oh!” With every empty threat puffed out into the heady air, Geto finds his achingly hard cock weeping even more thick rivulets of pre. Lungs filling up with hypnotic volumes and volumes of that scent. He can feel himself fucking tearing up, “F-fuck you.”

He was so sexy like this. 

Trying oh-so-desperately to pretend that those collisions into your gooey depths didn’t have his toes curling, heavy lids falling shut to hide away just how fast Geto’s eyes were sliding to the very back of his head.

You’re arching a brow, “Oh? What was that?”

Lips sleazing backwards into a pussydrunken grin, you had the inkling that Geto didn’t even realize what he was babbling away at this point. He couldn’t even think. “I-I said fuck-” 

Mouth still moving. Soundless.

And all it takes is a mere touch of your sensory fingertips caressing his sweat-lathered temple to render Geto speechless.

“W-wait—” He breathes out, and he sounds hysterical right now. Venomous tone lilting countless octaves higher and wobbling as if he was about to break. His chest caves in with a low please–! once you’re streaking your digits through his silky hair, shivering as if being shocked with a thousand voltages. Pulling. “Not fair. Not fair not- fuck tha’s not fair t’me, gorgeous.”

You already knew that the pheromone perfume had some…aphrodisiacal effects. But it seemed that Geto was extra sensitive to it. Cute. 

“Yes, and?” Just for good measure - oh, you were thoroughly enjoying this - you’re trekking your stray fingertips to latch onto the gleaming curve of his throat. Bringing your scented neck even closer-

“Oh.” Geto’s snarky mouth now floods with a silvery plash of scorching hot saliva, fucked out of him after every resounding slam! of your hips down on his. You watch as his weightily lidded eyes glaze over with a film of something murky.

Continuing to wrench needily at his restraints. Desperately. It was like a second nature for Geto to touch you and right now he was ruined. You can’t help but ogle the rounded flex of his biceps-

“Gonna- fuck.” He whimpers - whimpers - out, nose crinkling. It made you much too drenched when he leans in mindlessly to rub the buttony tip of it against yours in a lazy kiss. Maw slacking every time you pumped his achily swollen cock across your most tender spots, the orifice of your hole massaging his reactive shaft so greedily. “M’close…”

Whispering, right now, as if it was the most dear confession. 

Because Geto Suguru never came before he’d made you reach your orgasm at least five times over.

But right now he was teetering right over the very high edge of it, so close. His thick, sculpted thighs push up from behind your motioning body to urge your bounces vulgarly faster, skin-to-skin. 

“C-close.” And it sounded almost pained if you didn’t feel the way it was accompanied by a hastily slipped spasm of Geto’s ballooned-up crownhead against your cervix. Too close. His beautiful head lolls backwards against the tear-streaked pillows, “M’gonna- m’gonna-”

Before snapping up furiously again when your merciless pace stops.

And all you can get out is a not-so-innocent, “Whoops.”

All you can get out - because it takes Geto exactly two split-seconds to snap! those useless pink handcuffs off of him and flip the two of you over to tower over you in all his glory. Speckles of frustrated sweat slithering between his bulging pecs and down onto your heaving body.

He’d let you have your fun, already.

Geto moves slow. Calculated. 

Leisurely meandering his face all over your thrumming throat, your tits, everywhere and anywhere that godforsaken pheromone perfume was calling to him. Taking in looong languid breaths of it - and each time he did, he’s fucking up into you like he didn’t even realize. 

Pounding you into the drenched silken sheets with all girthy inches of his circumference, branding it into your slippery womb like he didn’t want you to forget. 

You’re hit with the sudden remembrance that there was a reason you had to tie Geto up. 

And that is when you catch his gaze - wide, unfocused. Feral. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

So very fucked. 

“So.” Geto shatters your anticipatory realization with a throaty few syllables, hoarse like he wasn’t even ready for himself to speak at that point. Without a single warning, he spits - right in your mouth once. Then twice onto two slender fingers, before giving your cunt a stinging spank. “Ya gonna beg for mercy now or later, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.

God, if this was any other time then maybe Choso would’ve felt embarrassed about the way he was letting his clammy palms cling onto your waist like he never wanted you to let go. 

Because he didn’t. Would never. 

Huffing and puffing out clouded puffs of air into the sticky valley of your chest, he’s just so drunk on you. Can feel himself veering lazily into the pillow, drenching it with gumdrops of thick saliva. It takes everything in him to lift his head and puff in smoky breaths of your pheromones.  

And it makes him burn. So hot rutting up into you, skin-on-skin. 

Probing veins scouring your every nook and cranny, ruthless shaft the complete opposite of just how delicately he was boring down at you. Choso was nudging his ballooned-up cock past your puffy hole like he was making you melt around him.

Making you break - just as much as he was right now. 

And the only thing hotter is the way the slithering muscle of Choso’s pierced tongue lolls outwards to skim the buttery splotches of cum scattered across your tits from before. Shiny Prince Albert’s cooling you hardened nipples.

Eyes reeling to the very hidden backs of his hooded lids, he’s moaning at the salted caramel taste of himself. “S-so hot. So soft inside, m’ l-losing my mind.”

You’re just soaked skin-deep with him. 

And you’re blaming it all on that strange perfume - a pheromone perfume - that that assistant had dabbed on you at the store. You’d forgotten just how…sensitive curses can be to smells. 

How feral.

Finding your heart racing at the way he was narrating off every single thing, every single twitch inside you that slid across your gluey magical spots. “S’that so, Cho?”

Usually, Choso would nod away deliriously to your every word. Usually, he would prattle on sweet, sweet simperings of his very own.

But right now, you watch in slight awe as the pale skin of his pretty cheekbones scorch over with a brightly blossoming blush. The heat of it so feverishly hot that you can almost feel it, and Choso bucks his hips wildly into you with a low keen at the back of his throat.

“D-don’t call me that.” He’s straining out through a shiver. Lower lip fussed until it was a pouted cherry pink. You swear the moment Choso leans closer you see his long mahogany lashes glisten with tears. His big, beefy arms finding their way around your body, “S’gonna…gonna make me cum. Gonna- fuck!”

As if to prove his point, the perked hill of his fattened cockhead splits with glossy white swabs of pre. Buttering up your deepest insides and promising more. 

You’re tugging him in ever-closer, the look in your glassy eyes so loving that he feels his length pump greedy ounces more and swell. Growing girthier - pushing your glutinous walls further n’ further apart just from the way you’re staring at him. 

How he loved you.

You hum, “But I want you to, Cho. No need to be shy.”

Something in him breaks. And just the thought of it is enough to make the special grade in front of you drool.

Slick rivers of spittle streaming from between his jaw, unhinging when he inches in to gift your surprised tongue with a weighty splat! of webbed spit. He breathes out past the breathless bubble, “No no no no- D-don’t say things like that, baby– I’m not…myself, right now.”

Tasting him. All of him.

The sugary sweet coating lathers your tastebuds and makes you whine, your legs stumbling around Choso’s toned hips. You can feel every tense of his toned core, count all eight of his washboard abs, “S-s’this the ngh! pheromone perfume, baby–? Maybe I should wear it more hck! often-”

“No.”

No?

And Choso can bash himself for interrupting his lovely lady later - but right now, he was frenzied. 

Gulping voluminous lungfuls of that scent - of you. 

Deftly practiced fingers entrap your plummy clit and roll over not circles, not hearts- no, the letters of his name over n’ over. Branding the perked hood of your nub until you could feel your eyes burst with stars, Choso was ravenous. 

“S’because- because it’s you.” He gasps out thickly, smooth baritone unsteady under the weight of all those tears painting smudged eyeliner down his pretty cheeks. “Your scent, n-not that ngh- perfume.” You’re flinching at the looong drag of his scratchy tastebuds dragging over your scented throat. Or, well, previously scented throat. He was addicted to you. “You have me- have me in heat, lil’ human, n’ it’s making me…”

Wild.

If Choso was any lesser man then he would’ve dragged you halfway down the bedcoils and thrown your legs haphazardly over his shoulders. Folding you in half to pound you into the mattress until you were dumb.

But, luckily for your dripping cunt, Choso was that lesser man right now. 

He doesn’t think he feels alive - can’t even register his wheezing breaths once he’s manhandling you into the densest possible mating press. 

Strong biceps rippling, chest heaving-

His fuzzy brain only sparks with recognition when Choso’s heavy breeder balls clench once, twice, thrice at the way your drooling pussy was laminating his rounded curve with a slimy coating of slick. That’s when he can feel himself actually startle, actually see.

And fuck, was it a sight enough to make him cum if he wasn’t so entranced with that prettily awestruck look on your face. 

“Can’t even feel m-my legs, baby-” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, stray strands of coffee brown plastering all across his sweat-slicked forehead. And something in Choso’s voice was…dark. Dangerous. You were in trouble. “-can’t th-think of anything but ngh- breeding this pretty pussy right now.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant by a heat.

“Mhm– my clever girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? Rewarding your cutely spellbound mind with a hefty thud! thud! thud! right onto what feels like your lungs. He had all the time in the world to fuck you stupid, after all. “My mate.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sweetener

“H-heh- say that again, silly human.”

“A pheromone perfume.” You’re squirming impatiently, words sticking to the back of your throat in saccharine gasps. And even the tiniest of gyrations leave Sukuna’s ruby-topped heads kissin’ sultry circles around your weeping hole. 

Leave you wanting more.

Snickering, “A fucking- pheromone- what?” 

The monstrous king of curses displays you with a rugged sneer that makes your folds even more impossibly watery. Just for those stupid words stumbling from your mouth, you’re gifted with one - two - three solid spanks, elongated black nails curling into the stinging mounds of your ass. 

It’s all you can do to grapple on helplessly to the mountain of his toned shoulders, fingers clawing red train tracks that look more like kitten scratches on him. “K-Kuna–!”

“Don’t K-Kuna me, brat.” Raw need coats the scorching innards of your mouth when he only rolls his crimson eyes, burning hot. And out of all four of Sukuna’s beefy arms, it only takes one to latch onto the curve of your hips and hover you unstably over his doubly swollen cocks. Tutting, “What? You think some h-human perfume will control Ryomen Sukuna. I must’ve fucked ya dumb already.”

So mean.

But Sukuna always did have a soft spot for you.

And all is a single criss-cross of your wobbly arms, kiss-bitten lips puckering up into the beginnings of his only weakness – your pout. 

“Fine. Fine, spoiled girl.” It works.

Yet, you’re shivering at the thwack! thwack! thwack! of his doughy-tipped fingers swatting your plump clit. Pecs puffing out with pride and smugness when your eyes glaze over at them and you stare.

It happens all at once. In an instant. 

As soon as both of Sukuna’s round, throbbing cockheads crown the edges of your drooling pussy - he leans sultry inches closer and finally, finally smells it. That. 

That scented perfume you’d found in your king’s centuries-old treasury, untouched and just ripe for your picking. For Sukuna to get hit with a thorough blast of it off of your heated skin, simply taking one whiff to addle his honed senses.

Undoing years upon years of painstaking training to make your great king of curses halt, jagged canines baring you with a predatory snarl. “Th-think this can affect oh-”

Who was he against you? 

Your entire body vibrates when Sukuna’s chest rumbles with something carnal. Bursting from the very depths of his chest and making you shiver.

The thunderous noise has barely even stopped ringing in your ears before he’s latching on two massive hands to your waist and pulling you in. No care, no hesitation - nothing but drooling with the anticipation of being buried inside your slick-flooding pussy.

He needed it.

And he can feel his head fall headily backwards at the shuddering thud! of Sukuna’s two proud tips skimming the ends of your spongy cervix. Hooked fangs snatching onto the jut of his bottom lip at the bouncy recoil- 

Fuck, he didn’t want to separate from your gummy walls for even a split-second. Even if it was to let your hips bounce in lecherous swivels up n’ down up n’ down up n’ down.

“Sh-shit, you’re in so ngh- deep.” 

It’s a slow tempo, but you never got used to the stretch that was Sukuna’s staggering sizes. 

Both aching cocks were so unfairly long and hard that he didn’t even have to try to smear his puffy veins over your awaiting g-spot. You swear both lengths reached well over a foot, and just having him bottom out had you scrambling to caress the inflated tummy bulge he was fucking into you. 

Your jaw hangs open, a syrupy waterfall of saliva dribbling all over your chin. You’re not sure if Sukuna even registers the way he’s tenderly swiping away the overspilling excess with a fat thumb. 

“Kuna?” You have to stop yourself from almost flinching away, feeling oh-so-shy at the burning heart-eyes in his gaze. The way a fourth arm was patting the sinful cylindrical outline leading up from your puffy pussy. Reaching an arm to stroke his sweat-matted pink locks, “A-are you okay?”

The moment your fingers skim any part - any minute millimeter - of Sukuna’s body, he’s whimpering. Whimpering. 

And if that was the worst of it, then maybe he could have gathered up some semblance of his shattered dignity. 

But Sukuna isn’t simply making pretty noises - he’s cumming. 

One touch. And a thousand torrents of cum sugarcoating your claggy walls. 

So much of it. Too much of it - it sweeps through your gluey walls and forms a little puddle ‘round his bulky bases. Creamily filthy mixtures of seed and slick ringing Sukuna’s base, they hit your perked clit with a wet pap! each time you’re milking him through his peaks. 

“D-did you just-”

“Shut up.” He bites back, leaving you no time for the realization to sink in - before curling a vice-like hand around your throat and making you slam down your hips. “Shut up.”

Sudden, striking hits that bruise the curve of your ass just as much as it bruised your battered insides. You were so hot. So soft that it made him dizzy. Melty depths being contracted around thick lengths, the pace at which your greedy pussy was swallowing him up almost made the king want to whine-

“O-oh my god.”

It did make him whine.

With a creaking squeak! of cushion, Sukuna’s sculpted hips lurch off of the decadent royal mattress in repeated ruts. Animalistic.

“Shut up- I s-said ngh- s’not my fault.” He spits out, angry dewdrops of steamy pre being streaked out in twin ribbons into the back of your cunt. “Not my fault you just feel so- so ohhh- f-fuck you, brat. I-if the rest of ‘em found out…”

But Sukuna already knew he was weak for you. He knew.

Just not to this extent. 

Not till just a simple cloud of your scent made his vision swim, a fresh wave of drool slipping n’ sliding from between the traitorous slit of his mouth. Both of them.

“M-mhm–” You find yourself smiling - maybe from his reaction, maybe from the way you were being fucked so thoroughly right. The knobbled tops of your knees skid easily across Sukuna’s drenched lap when you straddle him even even tighter, “S’that why-”

He wanted you to shut up. He needed you to shut up or else he was going to fucking cum again. 

Which is why his second cursed mouth opens wiiiide to puff your cunt with steamily clouded pants. Before rolling out his tongue and dragging up the entirety of your bulging pussy. All overfilled with him.

“A-another word–” Sukuna’s seething through clenched teeth, but it’s no use. None. Not when the way you lean in to listen closer is enough to make the king blush, “-a-and I make you walk a- ngh! around the entire day with my cum all safe n’ sound inside..”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “U-use me?”

“Wh-what?”

And for the first time in hours, Ino manages to meet his hazy chestnut eyes with yours. Shivering. Half-lidded. “Use me.”

Fuck.

You thought your beloved boyfriend would regain his senses by the second round- no, perhaps the third time’s the charm.

Okay, maybe the fourth? The fifth?

But even after six looong rounds, your splintered bedframe was still trilling with shrill creaks; sagging uselessly on one end as strong, tannish arms stick ever-closer to your body like glue. Folding you into the meanest n’ tightest full nelson possible. 

Still scorching. Still needy after getting hit with just a waft of that pheromone your friends bought you as a joke. A joke. 

But this was anything but.

Ino can’t even bring himself to wipe away the wads upon wads of slippery drool leaking from his maw after every mushy thud of his globular cockhead against the very back of your goopy cervix. He can’t even think.

“Puh-please.” He’s hiccuping, soft tipped fingers clawing near the sweaty crown of your head to push you further down. Lapping a lazy stripe up your scented neck, “Just one more– ngh! Need you t-to use me to make yerself cum once more, sweetness.”

“M-more?”

And oh, your voice was warbling with such cute disbelief that it makes Ino groan. “Yes. Yes.”

Planting a few more vicious plunges of his strawberry pink tip into the target of your favorite sweet spots - Ino’s favorites, too. Especially once your puffy pussylips part with numerous geysers of slick, flooding translucent rings at his base. 

All without even looking up from your neck.

He can’t.

Ino’s entire body wracks with tremors when he even tries to pull away a mere inch. Two. All that he can manage before nuzzling back in with heavy repeated pants.

You’re only getting wetter - and that maddening little perfume one you? Only stronger. 

He swears - fuck, maybe he’s going crazy - that he can smell just how close you are, how your tummy’s tightening into wiry knots. 

“But- but are you sure, baby–?” Your fingers scratch at the tawny ends of his damp locks, a primal itch so heavenly that he almost purrs. “M’wondering if you even can-”

“I can-” He’s cutting you off, free fingers straying down to the slightly-softening base of Ino’s furious cock and squeezing. Rutting up into you with wild abandon, “I can. I can- promise, sweetness, I promise.”

“Taku–”

And throughout Ino’s hazy mind, your words ring out like a death sentence. Like a punishment. Causing him to snap open his eyes with a sharp intaking gasp, round-topped curves of his knees manhandling your thighs further n’ further open.

You whine at the burning smear, head throwing backwards in a way that makes his slow rovering over your neck break away-

And if Ino was upset before, then he’s simply devastated now.

Sounding like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “No. No no no no no- don’t run, pretty.” Like catnip. Like a moth drawn to your frame, he’s wrapping his jittery forearms around you until you could count every twitch of his sculptured forearms. Crushing you in close. “Look at yourself- smell yourself. Fuck, I need it. M’not asking, m’b-begging you to use me like a…toy.”

He almost wishes he could bring himself to lurch away from that haven of pheromones dabbed across your skin. 

Almost wishes he could do anything else but swivel a fat thumb across your weepy folds, bringing it allll the way up to his eager nose to steal a long sniff. 

Filthy. 

But it’s exactly what makes Ino’s swollen cock perk up with an animalistic flinch inside of you, probing into the target of your g-spot dead on. 

“Shit- shit— y-you just got so much bigger.” Your vision flashes blissful white when his length stiffens into even longer n’ sold inches, swabbing at your precious cunt with pressurized pounds. And whatever ounces of blood left in his melty mind? Oh, they’re sprinting all the way down Ino’s boiling veins to end up bloating his throbbing cock. 

Getting hard just by the smell of you.

“O-oh.” You’re being bounced on top of his toned pecs when they dip with a sudden hitched breath. “Yes. Yes yes yes, jus’ like that. Love everythin’ about this ngh- pussy, she’s started smelling sweeter e-even here, too. Fuck, you’re a goddess, pretty.”

Sounding as if he was in such heavenly agony - husky voice cracking a few octaves higher. His hold so vice-like on you that you can already feel yourself bruising. 

Sloppier. Needier.

Shit- Ino needed to see that dumbstruck look surely being fucked onto your face. He’s finding himself moving - body before mind - to face that reflective, floor-length mirror propped up at the end of your bed. 

He always knew that thing would come in handy.

You’re croaking out a moan at the wet texture of Ino’s mouth watering, sprinkling your heated skin with spatters of spit.

But who could blame him?

It was such a sultry sight - to watch your bloated lips be pried apart by his reddened circumference, spraying out saturated glazes of your sweet, sweet juices each and every time. 

“See? See?” Ino’s murked puffs tinge with something higher-pitched and wild. Pearly white edges of his teeth sink into your delicate lobe, and make your skin break out in goosebumps. “How fucked you have me. Think m’gonna hngh- die if I don’t fuh-fuck this pretty pussy. If I don’t make you cum-”

Shit, he doesn’t even want to imagine the thought.

Your kiss-bitten mouth slackens into a loose oh! “Wanna- I wanna cum, Taku—” Twisting your head ‘round to face him with a slight pout that makes his entire body jolt.

“Y-yeah?” So, so pretty with a dopey smile being spread all across his face, you’re leaning in to kiss the cratering dimple at the edge of his plump lips. “C’mon. Fuck back into me- ngh- use me ta make yerself cum.”

You’re heading his every word, thighs aching at the fatigued pain of bouncing your hips in a resounding pap! pap! pap! Grinding your treacly slit all the way back into his fattened balls, “L-like this?”

“Atta girl. Harder, now.” His brows furrow. “Harder.”

More more more.

Words petering out halfway into a snarl at this point, you glimpse at the glint of Ino’s sharp canines peeking through the mirror. “Fuck me. Fuck me, pretty.”

“Taku.”

And you’re not sure who wanted you to cum more - you, or your feverish boyfriend. 

But your spellbound self had some semblance of an answer when the sound of his name on your honeyed tongue makes Ino flinch as if hit with a zillion volts of electricity.makes him dart down a hand to grace your neglected clit with an oh-so-rude pinch.

Ino’s fuzzy brain wasn’t even working enough to remember those patterns you loved so much. To remember just how to make his body move.

All he knew was that he needed this.

Needed the way you’re arching your spine into the perfect curvature against his glissading front, head thrown back with a mewl of Taku—! once you finally tip over the edge.

He finds his mouth falling gape, “Y-you’re so fucking hot.” Eyes locked on the trembly image of you in the mirror, he fucks you through every white-hot peak of your high. Babbling away,”Did your dear Taku m-make you cum, sweetness? Does it feel good? 

Oh, the audacity of him to tip a few thick digits underneath your chin and force you to nod. 

Giggling, “Thought so-” And then it happens. Then, he leans in for a sweet, sweet kiss as he usually does - only to be wafted with a murky cloud of pheromone perfume. Again. You watch as Ino blushes a soft pink, “Hey, p-pretty…so…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Everyday is everyday.

Everyday means everyday - and it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even after so many countless rounds and rounds.

Never, for a Gojo Satoru that has to grit his pearly white teeth viciously to stop himself from using just an ounce too much of his strength on your pliable body and breaking you. 

Snarling canines peeking out just when he nestles your legs over two broad shoulders and bends down, down, down in half. 

“Hngh- please—” Your chin hits the heaving edges of your chest at the burn of the sheer stretch. Gojo’s muscular thighs sticking against your own and pressing into the inflated little pouch he’d made at your tummy. Filled to the brim with his sappy cum-

“Th-that’s all your fault, y’know–” He’s hissing, handsome jaw clenching desperately to stop those tremoring keens from invading his words. He fails. And Gojo can already tell by the smug smile curling your lips, “-all b-because of you and that fuck! damn perfume.”

Nevermind that he was the one that bought it for you in the first place - some niche, overpriced brand dropped straight into your lap. 

Nevermind the fact that he had come up with the idea. 

Oh, you should’ve known that this is what wearing pheromone perfume around the strongest would get you.

Because Gojo Satoru was breaking - shattering. 

Every pressurized thrust of his leaking out a new wave of overstimulated pre frosting up your slicked entrance. Accompanied hand-in-lecherous-hand with shockwaves of cursed energy that make your unbolted furniture drag magnetized centimeters all the way towards the creaking bed. 

“Sh-shit your p-powers—” you’re whining, eyes widening at the hazy sight of blue lightning flickering across Gojo’s sweat-lathered body. 

“My p-p-powers, huh, sweetheart?” He’s leaning in to whisper, eyes wide. Wild. Breath hitching so many octaves higher that it sends your spine arching with a goosebumped chill. All into his awaiting touch, “And whose- fault- is that—?”

You’re not sure if you’re a genius - or just plain idiotic. Because even feeling the withheld power being those very same soft palms holding your boneless thighs up, you find it in yourself to snark. “Yours.”

And Gojo almost stops. 

If that didn’t torture him just as much as that would torture you, that is. Instead, he’s slowing down to sleazy drags n’ grinds pressing gluey peck after peck on your cervix. 

Such sweet, sweet leisure - yet, his words were tense. He breathes out a shallow cloud of air, “Whose?” 

Gojo’s tone was dangerous. And his battering rams even more so.

“Y-y- ngh!” Saved by a particularly hard slam of all his copious inches digging into your glutinous g-spot, it leaves a bulky circular branding that stings deliciously with every targeted buck.

You can feel yourself slowly being fucked into stupidity with every swash of thickly viscous cum swirling around your insides. And you already know by the buzzing pressure around his cerulean eyes that he was taking unfair advantage of his Six Eyes to make sure his veiny cock reaches each and every single spot inside your pretty pussy.

Locking your dangling ankles with one hand behind his head - the noticeable flex of Gojo’s pale biceps makes you moan. 

Trapped. 

Oh- how pretty you were like this, he muses, eyeing the wobbly quiver of your needy lips. Both of them. And you were so loud, too - your saturated cunt so desperate to chat up at him with ringing squelches that carry over your adorable noises. 

Maybe he should let you hit him with a waft of that special pheromone perfume more often.

His round nostrils flare, hyper-sensitive senses greedily gulping out each ounce and waft you’re letting off. Every repeated pap! of Gojo’s hipbones follows one of his choked-out syllables, “I said- Whose?”

Someone sobs - and only a few sloppy seconds do you realize that it’s you. Words coming out helplessly garbled, “M-mine.”

At that very moment, a dimly-lit lamp across your heady bedroom shatters. 

Sharp shards of glasses bounce off the two of your fervently glissading bodies, limitless. 

But if that was taxing for the strongest - then he doesn’t show it. Not even a sign. Gojo only angles his hip a few degrees to the right to bounce into your spongy cervix even harsher. In rough, jagged strokes as if it was nothing.

In fact, by the filmy glaze overtaking his hooded eyes, you think that it might just be nothing. You think that he might not even have realized what was happening. 

Pressing a drunken trailway of kisses down the helpless curve of your calf, he grins. Toothy. Animalistic. “Atta girl.”

Pulpy soft tips of Gojo’s fingers slide sneakily down to your messy pussy, drivelling up slow slides up and down your teary entrance. Just until you were getting comfortable - just until you were letting your guard down. Silly girl. 

Before slipping past your tight ring of resistance and prying you open doubly. And oh, you should’ve expected that when Gojo gets the job done - he’s going above and beyond to make sure you remember it. 

That you’re his.

Pummeling right into the throbbing bullseye of your g-spot, the edges of his long digits hit that spot so hard that you find yourself bawling. Eyes snapping open- before promptly closing as you cum.

Your high is a shock - a white-hot mess of such euphoria. 

Tipping right over the edge - and it might’ve been a surprise to you, but Gojo saw it coming a mile away with those special eyes of his. Chuckling to himself at the velvety smooch of your sappy walls milking every inch of him.

“There we go- there we g-go, my girl.” He’s pumping you so thoroughly full that you feel your vision blur, the vibrating buzz of Gojo’s cursed energy being fed into you with each strike. “Cum- cum f’me. H-heh, all because- because of me-”

Your tits bump up into his plush pecs, sensitive nubs of your nipples brushing against his rosy pink ones. You’re reaching out a trembling hand to cup Gojo’s pretty face - one he leans into and kisses. “T-Toru—!”

Just about all you can manage out.

And your orgasm might not have been a surprise to him, but Gojo’s own absolutely was.

It happens in a split second - just after that nickname spills from the honeyed tip of your tongue. 

Gojo’s snowy lashes flutter upwards, sweat-slicked brows raising all the way to the edges of his silky fringe. Bubblegum lips parting into an oh! only falling further and further slack with every creamy ribbon shot upwards into you. 

It floods, it pours. And you can feel your flooded pussylips overspilling before he’s even halfway through his orgasm.

Oozing out glutinous wads of cum with every pump - Gojo had no rhythm now, he had no rhyme. Nothing but the carnal need to push every ounce of his fatly beading seed deeper n’ deeper into your pretty pussy, heated pink crownhead swirling out what feels like hearts at the very door to your womb.

You’re so full you could explode-

A hand rovers over that inflationary bulge - bigger now. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Was that really your loving boyfriend? He sounded so ruined right about now, hoarse. You couldn’t even blink your eyes up to make out the expression on his face because the lights had exploded. Possibly in every ward of Tokyo.

You feel it before you see it.

The familiar, shrill puff! of that pheromone perfume being sprayed on you- what? 

With a sharp gasp, you’re looking back n’ forth between the shiny sheen of liquid spritzed once more over your skin and Gojo’s ever-loving smile.

“Oh, whoops.” Soft snickers punctured with a loooong sniff of the air - of you. And Gojo’s eyes take on a predatory glint that makes your entire body wrack with shivers. “Better hope you’re on ngh- b-birth control, girl.”

“...”

A/N. Fun fact, the entirety of Sri Lanka had a six hour power cut while I was writing this because some monkey jumped onto a power line </33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[novaimperia]

★ asking roommate!sukuna to give you some space. literally.

“don’t you think if i could, i would have by now?” he fires back in a drawl, rolling his eyes. 

right now, you two are squished together in a dark supply closet in the campus atrium, bodies pressed so tightly there’s barely any room to breathe. you keep hushed, listening out for any shuffling less than a metre from where you are holed up with your roommate; the door’s locked and there’d be no reason to suspect you’re both in here but neither of you want to take the chance.

because, outside the door, is a girl with a furious appetite for revenge. she had seen you in the hallway around the corner and questioned you. apparently, your roommate owed her a date on friday night but he hadn’t turned up. that was the third time he’d made a promise to her he didn’t keep. not one for the drama, you were intent on keeping yourself out of it, but because the universe hates you, she narrowed her eyes and said that her friends saw you and him coming out of a movie theatre that very evening. 

of course she didn’t listen when you stammered that you didn’t plan to be there with him. you just wanted to be dropped off because it was late but then, for reasons you can’t really imagine, he chose to stay. she didn’t believe you. a ping went off. distracted with her phone for a moment, you skedaddled out of there, wanting to keep your head on your shoulders for a little longer. in comical fashion, when turning the corner, you saw the second person she has on her kill list. 

things quickly got out of hand after that. 

he didn’t fight very much when you yanked him in here nor did he seem very surprised to hear that a girl was out to get him. 

“ugh, where did she go?” the scorned woman screeches. “i’m gonna beat that whore up, i swear. she totally stole sukuna from me.”

‘stolen’ man huffs in amusement. you smack his chest.

she must be on the phone. briefly, you wonder how many people are building up hatred for you on campus by the simple virtue of living with the pink haired promise-breaker. guess his reputation is contagious. crossing your figures, you hope this won’t be a regular occurrence. and, showing no signs of leaving, if the frustrated stomping of feet pacing the hallway is anything to go by, your head slumps against sukuna’s chest in defeat. innocent of all charges, you’re not sure why you felt the need to hide, much less with him when he should be facing the consequences of his actions on his own. 

it’s not as if he deserves your protection – the stubborn bastard won’t move back just an inch even though he obviously knows he’s threatening to flatten you out like a bug against the wall with his towering body.

“just text her an apology or something,” you hiss. 

you can’t see it but you do feel his pierced brow quirk up. “i’m not gonna apologise ‘cause she can’t take a fucking hint. woman’s been hounding me since forever.”

“well, maybe you shouldn’t be asking her out and then flaking. ever thought of that?” mumbling against his shirt, you’re forced to breathe him in. he smells of burnt wood, the leather strap of a guitar, and nicotine. it’s both exhilarating and calming; you’re gonna fall asleep at this rate. 

something gentle and calloused brushes your hair away from your face. it lulls you deeper into slumber. his words vibrate against your cheek, a little aggressive with a tinge of vulnerability. “i didn’t. she made those plans on her own. don’t wanna go on a date with her.”

“oh.”

minutes pass. you can’t hear anything outside anymore. neither of you rush out. despite how cramped the fit is, it’s oddly comfortable. on second thoughts, maybe you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day here. with him. 

“quit fucking moving; you’re practically humping me a like a dog.”

never mind. 

you flick his nipple in retaliation and yelp when metal meets fingernail. he snorts. a little embarrassed, you retort, “you have a boner pressed right up against my stomach – who’s really the dog here, s’kuna?”

shoving him away, you emerge from the storage closet and take a deep inhale of relatively fresh air. she’s not here anymore. good. hopefully you won’t run into her for a while. you look back. your roommate doesn’t step out, instead he flexes his jaw and rolls his shoulder back, avoiding your eye. the tips of his ears are pink. gruffly, he mutters, “go ahead. wait by my car. i’ll be out in a sec.”

blink. blink.

a sponge smacks into your face when you laugh like a madwoman.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I promised you some lions! Let's talk about manes, males, and management.

This is Tandie, the current male lion at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Notice anything odd about him? He's got one of those hilarious awkward teenager manes. Except... this cat is nine years old.

I was, of course, immediately curious.

Manes serve a lot of purposes for male lions, including being an indicator of health and fitness - it's actually a sexually selected trait and a social signal. Mane texture / hair quality / length is dependent on nutrition and the body having energy to grow (and carry around!) that much hair! The color is also a signal: males with darker manes have been found to have higher testosterone levels.

In one research report, wild males were much more likely to avoid a lion decoy when it had a longer or darker mane - but the girls really loved a dark mane. It's thought this is because a long, dark mane is an indicator of mate quality. Males with longer, darker manes have higher testosterone and were pretty healthy: meaning they had more energy for fighting, had a better chance of recovering if they got injured, and generally had a higher rate of offspring survival. Manes matter!

So, back to Tandie. He was actually born at the Woodland Park Zoo in 2014 alongside two brothers, to dad Xerxes and mother Adia.

This was Xerxes (rip).

Obviously, a very large, dark, lush mane on Xerxes here. So where did these blond muttonchops come from on his son?

I asked the zoo docents and got an answer that didn't make a lot of sense. They told me that after the three cubs grew into adolescents, they were moved to the Oakland Zoo together. But living together suppressed his testosterone, and he never grew a mane.

Hmmmm.

Here's a photo from 2016, when the brothers debuted at Oakland. They're a year and a half old in this photo.

(Photo Credit: Oakland Zoo)

And here's from an announcement for their third birthday.

(Photo credit: Oakland Zoo)

Okay, so these dudes obviously all were growing manes as of 2017. I think Tandie is the one on the left in the first photo, and laying down in the middle on the second. What happened?

I was just in the Bay Area for a zoo road trip, of course I went to Oakland and tracked down a docent to ask some questions.

It turns out that shortly after the brothers turned three, they started acting like adult male lions: they started scuffling regularly. It's a normal social thing for male lions to live in groups, called coalitions, but according to my lion experts there's generally a baseline level of some social jostling within them. It wasn't quite clear from what the docent said if they couldn't manage the boys together, or if they just wanted to avoid the scratches and small wounds that result from normal lion behavior. Regardless, they put all three of the boys on testosterone blockers in order to be able to keep them together as a social group.

Now, I don't know a lot about the use of hormone alteration as a form of captive animal management, except in the case of birth control. I don't think it's something that's unethical - there was just a webinar on it that I saw go by - but I don't think it's commonly done with big cats. Lions have kind of complicated reproductive cycles, and for instance, we've been learning that female lions can take much longer to come into estrus again than expected after coming off hormonal birth control.

In males, testosterone blockers (or being neutered) means they lose their manes. This is why a lot of rescues will do a vasectomy on their males instead of a neuter - it allows them to keep their mane and the social signals that accompany it.

Tandie returned home to Woodland Park Zoo after Xerxes passed in early 2022, and the docent told me all of the lions had been off their blockers "for while." I'd guess those things happened around the same time, since bringing the trio down to a duo at Oakland would reduce some of the social tensions.

Hormones are such interesting things, though. One of Tandie's brothers has a full mane again, and the other is still totally mane-less.

As for Tandie, his mane is growing back in, and it looks like he might rival his dad for length and coloration.

He started here, in February:

Yesterday:

What a difference four months (and maybe proximity to a girl) makes!