#WILL THAT HAPPEN? HOW WILL IT HAPPEN?? I HAVE TO KNOW

[sturionic]

Donald Trump Is Not Joking About Annexing Canada: A Fucking Timeline

December 3, 2024: Trump's quip about Canada becoming 51st state was a joke, says minister who was there (CBC News 🇨🇦) <- This is when it could have feasibly been a joke

January 7, 2025: Donald Trump is quoted in a press conference directly stating his intentions to annex Canada (New York Times, timestamp 0:45 ����🇸) <- This is where Americans should have stopped telling Canadians it's just a joke

REPORTER 1: Are you also considering military force to annex and acquire Canada? DONALD TRUMP: No. Economic force.

February 7, 2025: Trudeau says Trump threat to annex Canada 'is a real thing' (BBC 🇬🇧) <- This is where the Commonwealth starts to take it seriously

Trudeau suggested Trump has floated the idea of taking over Canada and making it the "51st state" because he wants to access the country's critical minerals. "Mr Trump has it in mind that the easiest way to do it is absorbing our country and it is a real thing," the prime minister said.

February 9, 2025: "Trump's national security adviser: 'I don't think there's any plans to invade Canada'" (NBC News 🇺🇸) <- CANADIANS NOTICE THAT THIS IS NOT A VERY STRONG DENIAL OF POSSIBLE MILITARY FORCE

February 10, 2025: Trump Confirms He’s Serious About Wanting Canada As 51st State (Forbes 🇺🇸)

Fox News host Bret Baier asked Trump whether Trudeau was right in telling business leaders the U.S. president’s threat to absorb Canada is a “real thing,” to which Trump agreed with Trudeau and responded, “Yes it is.”

February 12, 2025: ‘Trump effect’: How US tariffs, ’51st state’ threats are shaking up Canada (Al Jazeera 🇶🇦) <- This is where the rest of the fucking world outside America starts to take it seriously

February 18 2025: CBC releases podcast episode: "What if the U.S. invaded Canada?" (CBC's Front Burner 🇨🇦)

March 4, 2025: Canada Eyeing NATO Ally's Nukes To Deter Trump 'Threat': Candidate (Newsweek 🇺🇸), British nuclear weapons can protect Canada against Trump, says Trudeau party candidate (The Telegraph 🇬🇧)

“I would be working urgently with [European Nato allies] to build a closer security relationship… in a time when the United States can be a threat,” said [Canada's] ex-foreign minister and finance minister at the final Liberal leadership debate last week.

March 4, 2025: Prime Minister Trudeau: "What he wants is to see a total collapse of the Canadian economy, because that’ll make it easier to annex us” (CTV News 🇨🇦)

March 7, 2025: BC Premier David Eby: “We know the president in back rooms with Canadian officials has said he wants to redraw the border" (Global News 🇨🇦)

Eby: "If this president wants to annex Canada, he should save his breath to cool his soup, it is never going to happen.”

March 7, 2025: How Trump’s ‘51st State’ Canada Talk Came to Be Seen as Deadly Serious (New York Times 🇺🇸) <- This is where American news media starts to treat this as maybe possibly not a joke

March 9, 2025: U.S. Congress bill aims to prevent funding of invasion of Canada (CTV News 🇨🇦) <- This is where you should understand that military force is ON THE TABLE

March 11, 2025: Canadian opinion of U.S. falls sharply; 63% take Trump's threats 'very seriously' (National Post 🇨🇦)

March 13, 2025 (TODAY): Trump threatens to acquire Canada, Greenland while next to NATO chief (Global News 🇨🇦)

“To be honest with you, Canada only works as a state...This would be the most incredible country visually,” [Trump] said. “If you look at a map, they drew an artificial line right through it, between Canada and the U.S., just a straight artificial line. Somebody did it a long time ago, many many decades ago, and it makes no sense.” -Donald Trump

And hey, just for fun, let's contrast that with another quote:

First of all, I would like to emphasize that the wall that has emerged in recent years between Russia and Ukraine, between the parts of what is essentially the same historical and spiritual space, to my mind is our great common misfortune and tragedy...I am confident that true sovereignty of Ukraine is possible only in partnership with Russia. -Vladimir Fucking Putin, the year before launching an attack on Ukraine, which everyone also said he was joking about and definitely wouldn't do (2021 essay, Kremlin official website 🇷🇺)

I know you're overwhelmed, Americans, but please stop saying this is a joke. Canadians are anticipating an invasion, possibly within the year. This is not a fucking drill.

[sleepincrow]

suggestive content.

what if he sex bans YOU. what if he threatens YOU with the lack of delicious sex?? what if he punishes YOU with no sex—to see what would happen to you, how pathetic you would become, hm? begging him to forgive you and for him to just relent and fuck you?

AND WHAT IF HE REGRETS IT, NOT A WEEK INTO THE MONTH-LONG SEX BAN HE PROMISED YOU. WHAT THEN???

"please, pretty baby~ 𖹭" he'd coo so fucking pathetically. it doesnt matter what position you could be in, in the end, he's the pathetic one. he would bat his eyelashes, trying to woo you over with his velvety words, all the while he tries to hide the tears that's gathered in his eyes from the soulful desperation of not being able to rut his hard cock on your thigh, let alone fuck you. "ive already forgiven you, so let's just stop this whole thing, yeah?"

oh stars, he's trying—trying to act as if he didnt put you in this situation.. as if he didnt put himself in this situation. you clicked your teeth. it's truly so cute how he thinks he still has the choice.

"but baby," you start, also batting your eyelash in false innocence. "you were right, i needed this punishment, so im taking full responsibility!" the slight growl and grunt thet came out of his irritated mouth was enough for you to know that your acting was perfect.

"don't act so mature now!" his grip on you tightens. underneath these calloused hands that hold onto you with a rough and wanting motive was the hidden sea of desperation. the hold youve got on his hips, keeping him from touching you, its pissing him off.

"come on, honey, you wanted this for me, right?" you mumbled under your breath, looking through him with those big eyes of yours. its taking everything in him to not just rut into you. anything'll do.

and he couldnt help it.. he was desperate!

"fuck.. come on, please? sh-shit i cant— i cant do this 'nymore. need- need to feel ya, baby, please?" he's fully given up at this point. he curses out his sex drive for giving up so early, and silently curses out to you. how could you endure this further than him? surely this is of your doing. somehow.

yes. it has to be you. youre too pretty doing whatever you want. its not like he can help it, youre too addicting. looking at you is a treat for him, a privilege to others, is it not? thats why. thats why he cant go much longer than a week without feeling you

he's deep into your neck, nose pressed against your soft skin, inhaling the scent of you. whatever he can get backfires cause his cock just becomes harder in the confines of his pants. strong arms envelope you, quivering in the need to fill you. look how you have him wrapped around your finger, clinging on to you as he pleads in your ear.

"im sorry, please, just fuck me."

he doesnt remember why he even punished you in the first place. all he wanted was to know how long it would be before you'd come crawling to him, begging to put his dick inside you. turns out he folded way before due. all he can think about is shaming his own hand for not being able to replicate how your pretty cunt squeezes him just perfectly. just enough to force his eyes into the back of his head. nothing could replicate you.

you feel too good. better. youre his ecstacy, dont you get it?

[astonmartinii]

mother duck | carlos sainz social media au

pairing: carlos sainz x fem presenter!reader

carlos kissed her goodbye before she went to the rookie round table, he didn’t realise she’d come back with five ducklings of her own

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,439,045 others

tagged: kimiantonelli, isackhadjar, jackdoohan, olliebearman & gabrielbortoleto

f1: head over to our youtube channel now to get to know our crop of new drivers at the rookie round table!

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user1: i have been moved

user2: more of this type of content please

user3: i think they could’ve gotten at least a couple of hours of footage here those kids love to talk

yourusername: not what i’ve been used to but a blast nonetheless!

kimiantonelli: you will be coming to all of the races, right?

kimiantonelli: right? please!

yourusername: yes, i will be there kimi don’t worry

kimiantonelli: omg yay!

user4: oh no… they’re attached…

user5: someone call carlos sainz, is he aware he’s become a father of five overnight?

carlossainz55: excuse me?

gabrielbortoleto: hi!

carlossainz55: no no no i don’t do all of this grid kid nonsense

isackhadjar: please don’t say that i have abandonment issues :(

carlossainz55: what ???

user6: bro sat back and watched charles adopt all the kids last season but now it’s his turn

user7: ollie is meant to be charles’ grid kid…

charles_leclerc: A ROBBERY?

carlossainz55: you can keep him !!!

olliebearman: you don’t want me 😢

yourusername: carlos don’t be mean to them!

carlossainz55: what the fuck is going on right now ???

user8: carlos left his gf for one 20 minute interview and now has kids ?

user9: ugh i’ve missed this chaos

jackdoohan: can we do all media with you @yourusername ?

yourusername: i don’t think so :(

jackdoohan: so not fair :(((((

jackdoohan: if we don’t have media with you can we at least come to dinner?

kimiantonelli: i’m free for dinner!

gabrielbortoleto: me too

isackhadjar: me three

olliebearman: can we get italian?

carlossainz55: nuh uh it’s date night tonight

kimiantonelli: *our date night

carlossainz55: no?

yourusername: come on carlos…

carlossainz55: fine! but just this one time

user10: it’s going to be a long season for mr sainz i fear

yourusername

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tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername: australia that’s a wrap on qualifying - a few surprises at both ends of the grid!

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user11: i am an old man who usually hates the fluffy stuff off of track but kimi going in for a hug in the media pen was very cute

user12: i think people forget just how young he is so it’s good he feels he has other people to go to in the paddock!

user13: his poor media handler looked very confused

olliebearman: can we definitely get dinner now :( talking to you in the media pen was probably the only good thing from today

yourusername: of course ollie! i know it was a tough day but you’ll get in the swing of it with the car

carlossainz55: i thought we were going to be able to shake them for dinner :(

olliebearman: CARLOS I AM IN DISTRESS PLEASE PAY FOR MY PASTA

yourusername: he clearly needs comfort!

carlossainz55: he doesn’t need comfort he’s trying to extort us

olliebearman: so you don’t love me enough to let me extort you?

carlossainz55: no?

user14: these rookies are cracking me up

user15: please strap them down in front of a camera and let them yap

gabrielbortoleto: did you see my save?

yourusername: i did! very impressive gabi

gabrielbortoleto: did you @carlossainz55 ?

maxverstappen1: so i mean nothing to you now?

gabrielbortoleto: NO! i love you max - did you see my save?

maxverstappen1: it was very impressive bubbles

carlossainz55: definitely not a ‘b grade’ driver

gabrielbortoleto: OMGGGG THANK YOU

maxverstappen1: i give up?

yourusername: i don’t really know what’s happening right now - but just go with it max, he still loves you he spoke at LENGTH about you to me just this morning

user16: these kids be attaching to anyone who looks at them

user17: they’re just like me for real

isackhadjar: looking forward to debriefing over garlic bread :D

yourusername: you were amazing today isack!

isackhadjar: hehehehehehehehe

carlossainz55: at least this one isn’t shouting at me

jackdoohan: what about me?

carlossainz55: you know what, you’ve bothered me the least so you’re my favourite

kimiantonelli: NOT FAIR

olliebearman: but i cycle?

gabrielbortoleto: but you liked my save?

isackhadjar: all i want is some garlic bread :(

yourusername: carlos! you can’t say one of them is your favourite - that’s not how kids work

carlossainz55: i never asked for this !!!

carlossainz55

liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman and 609,285 others

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carlossainz55: back in italy for imola and on a date with my favourite girl

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user18: carlos went to italy extra early so they could have dinner without the rookies intruding lmao

user19: bro is being haunted by five kids

user20: he’s better than me because i would crumble immediately

yourusername: no one else i’d rather be with

carlossainz55: i’ve missed being with you (just you)

yourusername: we’ve had just enough alone time i think

landonorris: gross

carlossainz55: not you too

landonorris: if you think about it i was technically your first kid…

carlossainz55: ONE NIGHT WITHOUT THIS NONSENSE PLEASE

user21: i think carlos might be losing his mind

alexalbon: oh he definitely is if his loud ramblings i can hear through the driver room walls

yourusername: i think he’s just like that?

carlossainz55: huh?

yourusername: you asked me on a date because you were talking to yourself loudly before our interview about ‘how pretty my smile is’

carlossainz55: my thoughts are loud!

carlossainz55: but in that instance i’m very glad they were screaming in my head

yourusername: i’m very glad too <3

user22: omg that’s such a cute/concerning meet cute

user23: the most carlos sainz thing ever i fear

kimiantonelli: i see our invite got lost in the mail?

olliebearman: and in kimi’s home country… that’s just cruel

carlossainz55: i would like ONE romantic night with the love of my life ALONE

carlossainz55: CAN I PLEASE HAVE THAT? I DON’T THINK I’M ASKING THAT MUCH

isackhadjar: you didn’t need to be that mean about it :(

kimiantonelli: i’m sorry, i just wanted to show you the best places in imola …

olliebearman: does this mean you don’t want to go cycling on thursday anymore?

jackdoohan: can i still go for coffee with y/n?

gabrielbortoleto: we just wanted to see you guys :(

yourusername: no my babies :((( we love you and of course we want to see you! we just need to have some alone time every once in a while

carlossainz55: y/n please stop feeding into this

carlossainz55: STOP SHOWING ME THE PHOTOS THEY’RE SENDING YOU OF THEIR SAD FACES

carlossainz55: FINE! WE’LL ALL GO FOR BREAKFAST TOMORROW NOW LET ME ENJOY MY NIGHT WITH Y/N

gabrielbortoleto

liked by kimiantonelli, olliebearman and 451,058 others

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gabrielbortoleto: that was a big one! i’m sorry to the team but i’m happy to say that i’ll be okay and will be back for the next race. thank you y/n and carlos for coming and keeping me company in the hospital!

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user24: okay i know we’ve all poked fun at the grid kid thing and how it’s so funny that carlos hates it but for real, i’m glad they were in the paddock and were able to be there for him

user25: that makes all the jokey stuff so much better honestly

yourusername: we’re so happy you’re all okay gabi!

gabrielbortoleto: thank you for coming! i know i’m a bit of a drama queen but my parents couldn’t come from brazil so thank you for not leaving me alone :)

gabrielbortoleto: can we have a ducky sleepover?

carlossainz55: a what?

gabrielbortoleto: y/n calls us her duckies! so a ducky sleepover would be all of us coming over (and getting ice cream)

yourusername: i think that’s an amazing idea

carlossainz55: okay, okay. but i am never calling you guys duckies.

yourusername: just you wait baby :)

user26: his radio just reminded me how young him and all the other rookies actually are

user27: i want to just wrap them all up in blankets and tell them it’s all going to be okay

user28: good thing they have y/n and carlos to do that

alexalbon: he won’t tell you this but he did run back to his drivers room to get gabi a jumper and a blanket, he’s a softy for them really

yourusername: that's my man 🥰

kimiantonelli: we’re the five duckies so please refrain from flipping into the barriers again please and thank you

yourusername: kimi?!

carlossainz55: that’s not how we word these things kimi

kimiantonelli: woah i’m trying to lighten the mood

olliebearman: everyone has been a real debby downer today - like three of us got points! (this is a joke, i am happy you’re okay gabi)

gabrielbortoleto: bring the mood back down, i’ve got some more things i want to get with my sympathy points

carlossainz55: gabi???

gabrielbortoleto: fernando taught me to take advantage of anything and everything

carlossainz55: that sounds about right…

user29: why is fernando still at the scene of the crime

kimiantonelli: he’s old! he won his last championship before i was born!

fernandoalo_oficial: @carlossainz55 control your kid

carlossainz55: excuse me? after what you’ve taught gabi?

fernandoalo_oficial: oh don’t act so innocent carlito - did isack or did isack not steal all of the goodies from the media pen because he MANIPULATED the comms girls

isackhadjar: i DID NO SUCH THING

isackhadjar: i am just a nice guy!

jackdoohan: he distracted them and i took them!

fernandoalo_oficial: scoundrels

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55: as much as they’re annoying - i love our duckies and it’s going to take more than one DNF to turn me against them

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user30: oh wow he is a changed man

user31: i fear this is a real mark of maturity because believe me i’d be crashing the fuck out (pun intended)

user32: i mean now he’s seen it back he defo knows that it wasn’t really any one person’s fault

olliebearman: I’M SO SORRY CARLOS

olliebearman: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FORGIVE ME

kimiantonelli: what about me ????

olliebearman: you are NOT the priority here

kimiantonelli: we have a ship name ??? does that mean nothing?

olliebearman: not right now? not when our cycling sessions are on the line?

carlossainz55: are you guys finished arguing now?

olliebearman: can you forgive me now so we can get back to arguing

carlossainz55: i told you guys there’s no hard feelings, we all got squeezed in the rain - stop stressing

olliebearman: okay thanks

kimiantonelli: thx

kimiantonelli: anyway

kimiantonelli: HOW DARE YOU NOT WANT MY FORGIVENESS FIRST?

olliebearman: omg you’re so self-involved

jackdoohan: you gonna let him say that kimi?

kimiantonelli: ME? SELF-INVOLVED?

isackhadjar: ollie i can hear him bitching from here…

olliebearman: GASP!

gabrielbortoleto: kimi… clearly he doesn’t care about the sanctity of bearnelli

kimiantonelli: i can’t believe this 😖

yourusername: right okay let’s calm it down boys

carlossainz55: no this is quite entertaining let them keep going …

yourusername: so you are the bad influence

carlossainz55: if we have to keep them around i might as well enjoy it

yourusername: really?

carlossainz55: the longer they argue and instigate, the less they are bothering us and i can actually spend time with my girlfriend

user33: this whole comment section is just one big familial domestic

user34: they are everything to me

user35: carlos can never retire now i’m sorry those are the rules

yourusername

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yourusername: omg all five of our duckies scored points and carlos was on the pdoium this weekend at silverstone!!! what an anniversary weekend, and our duckies remembered!

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user36: THE DUCKIES

user37: i don’t care how dumb the nickname is i love it so much

user38: free yourself from thinking everything is cringe

jackdoohan: so since you’re from silverstone, can we claim this as a home race so we can all say got points at home

yourusername: i’ve seen shakier logic from oscar so i’ll say yes!

oscarpiastri: RUDE

kimiantonelli: he’s just bitter because no one cares about his lil grid kid stunt in monaco anymore now we have y/n and carlos

oscarpiastri: omg ??? leave me alone

olliebearman: come say that to our faces 😡

jackdoohan: he won’t we out number him

iscakhadjar: 💪

oscarpiastri: you people are all like rabid dogs

carlossainz55: watch what you say about the duckies

oscarpiastri: this is crazy, you were the one who was constantly complaining about them

carlossainz55: yes well now i like them! and i don’t appreciate your tone

oscarpiastri: why weren’t you this nice to me as a rookie?

carlossainz55: eh?

gabrielbortoleto: he just likes us better!

carlossainz55: he’s not wrong…

oscarpiastri: fine! charles is a better grid dad anyway

oscarpiastri: and while we’re at it i’m gonna claim max as well

charles_leclerc: yeah i never complained about oscar, i took him in immediately!

maxverstappen1: i don’t know how i got roped into this but yeah - we’re better!

user39: you know what? sure

user40: i stopped asking questions a long time ago

user41: they got them gifts for their anniversary? that’s too fucking cute i can’t

user42: duckies you are so iconic

carlossainz55: i guess the duckies are good for one thing - gifts

yourusername: it’s definitely a perk!

carlossainz55: but i’ll deal with all of their chaos if it means being with you

yourusername: awwwww i love you too

yourusername: so much we have five kids before being married…

carlossainz55: is this a hint?

yourusername: i don’t know you tell me?

kimiantonelli: PLEASE DON’T PROPOSAL WITHOUT US THERE

jackdoohan: that is a threat

olliebearman: bagsy being a bridesmaid

isackhadjar: i know someone who can get you the eiffel tower?

gabrielbortoleto: omg my first wedding party !!!

carlossainz55: let’s all slow down for a second - i will propose but you little devils will not be involved…

yourusername: but they’re so cute 😢

carlossainz55: maybe… but only because i love you

fin.

note: kinda on fire today? i will be crashing in like two hours so i had to be productive while i could be

[deathofacupid]

ceo!sukuna x bubbly!barista!reader, i fear it's my new obsession. banner credits to @/uzmacchiato. both inspired by, and dedicated to @salsakiyoomi! hope you like it, pretty <33

ceo!sukuna, a man whose resting face could curdle milk, hates physical touch. like, he'd rather wrestle a rabid badger than endure a friendly pat on the back.

his employees? mere rodents scurrying around his corporate cheese grater, their sole purpose to make his existence slightly less agonizing.

of course, they mostly failed at that. they were less "competent assistants" and more "walking disasters with access to staplers." his day was basically a high-stakes game of "clean up the employee-induced apocalypse," and he was running out of patience, and more importantly, employees.

ex-employees, he'd mentally correct, adding them to his ever-growing blacklist. he'd personally ensure they'd be lucky to get a job at a clown college.

and yet, despite this raging misanthropy and deep-seated aversion to human contact, he ends up craving your arms. the irony was thicker than his expense reports.

"'kuna?" you ask, peering up from your couch fort. "how was your day?"

a grumble is his reply. you've deciphered his grumbles into a complex language, and this one translates to "hell on earth."

you open your arms, and he promptly transforms into a sentient, grumpy weighted blanket, flopping onto you with the grace of a falling grand piano.

you wheeze, but you're used to it. he’s basically a cat, except instead of knocking things off tables, he knocks the air out of your lungs.

"don't even get me started," he mutters, his voice muffled by your chest. he sounds like a toddler who just lost his favorite pacifier. "do you know how many people i had to terminate today?"

"fired, you mean? sukuna, you mean fired, right?" you’re picturing a corporate bloodbath, and it’s not a pretty image. he waves a dismissive hand, which, due to his position on top of you, almost knocks your phone out of your hand.

"yeah, yeah. whatever. they were basically performance art pieces of incompetence."

"okay, but, like, how many?"

"enough." he then changes the subject. "what about you, flower? how was the café?"

your mood instantly does a 180. "oh! it was great! nice and slow. but this one guy came in, all grumpy about his coffee. said he could make it better."

"he did?" sukuna raises an eyebrow, a feat considering he's basically face-planting into your chest. "what happened?"

"told him to go do it, then," you say, grinning. "and then kicked him out."

"that's my girl," he says, a rare flicker of approval in his eyes. "did you throw his coffee at him first?"

"i considered it, but i didn't want to waste good coffee."

he's impressed, that much he'll admit. he shifts, crushing you further. "sukuna!"

"i've been away from my girl all day," he grumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "let me have this."

for a man who supposedly treated physical contact like it was kryptonite, he sure seemed to enjoy clinging to you. maybe he just needed a you-shaped stress ball, you think. and maybe, just maybe, he was secretly a giant softie, hidden under layers of corporate armor and general grumpiness.

or maybe he just liked your couch. either way, you were trapped, and honestly, you weren't complaining. too much.

general taglist: @jeonwiixard. (i didn't forget this time 👩‍❤️‍👩)

[reignpage]

Pathetic piner!Gojo has loved you all his life. You’ve been best friends since you were in diapers and even though he didn’t know what love was at the ripe old age of two weeks, he knew, you were the one. 

Pathetic piner!Gojo lucked out when you two had gotten drunk during some stupid college party and you kissed him. Sure, you thought he was someone else, but a kiss was a kiss, until it turned into more. 

That ‘more’ was the best night of his life; he gotten to see sides of you he had only ever dreamed about, tasted inches of your skin he never thought he’d feel, and best of all?

He made you feel good. 

Maybe not as good as you made him feel but every time after that, he had worked hard to bring you closer and closer until you could share that feeling that’s been brewing in his heart since. 

Pathetic piner!Gojo wasn’t the biggest fan of the arrangement you two had began — he wanted more, craved more, but he didn’t dare push you. He’d lose his mind if that ever happened. So, instead, he told himself it was enough. He was your best friend, you trusted him with everything, you shared memories no one else could ever have, and you were in his bed practically every night. No one could replace him. 

And. That. Was. Enough. 

But…

You would do things that made him hopeful. When you brushed his hair back, adjusted his sunglasses, and called him ‘pretty.’ Things that threatened to pull his heart right out of his ribcage so he could give it to you. These were things that made him special. It must have been a sign of love, the kind that he feels, the obsessive, all-consuming, manic love.

Right?

Why is it then, that he’s watching a guy leave your apartment just as he’s carrying a bag full of takeout to surprise you with?

Pathetic piner!Gojo rushes to your room and bangs the door much louder than he’d like but he can’t seem to care about it. And when you open said door and come out, surprised and concerned, the words that leave his quivering lips are drowned out by the tears that are falling from his eyes. 

Pathetic piner!Gojo asks, voice rough and distorted, “Did you sleep with him? Do you love him?”

Thoroughly confused, you can only reply with an ‘uh, no?’

His laugh isn’t one you recognise. It’s mean and scathing but not at you. No, never at you. 

“Satoru, that was just a classmate dropping off some notes. What’s wrong?”

Pathetic piner!Gojo rambles on and it’s as if he can’t hear you. “So then why don’t you want to date me? Why don’t you love me the way I love you? Do you even have any idea how I feel? Baby, I feel like I’m dying. Like someone’s just torn a hole through my chest. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat or breathe or live! P-please…just give me a chance. I’ll be good.”

Pathetic piner!Gojo is baffled when you start laughing. His tears pause mid-way and he even feels the tips of his ears burning despite not knowing why exactly he should feel embarrassed. 

“Toru! You actual idiot. I thought we’ve been dating all this time.”

Pathetic piner!Gojo says, “Oh.”

“Get in, loser. We’re gonna have to have a talk.”

And despite the stern tone of your voice, Pathetic piner!Gojo smiles and skips inside your apartment feeling mighty good about himself. 

Until, of course, he realises he dropped the takeout. 

[baepsays]

‧₊˚𓇢𓆸 I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN)⸻ clan head Gojo

Chapter One: Lord Gojo

𓍯𓂃 pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

𓍯𓂃 description⋙ navigating a married life is hard enough, it is harder when you know nothing about your husband other than his heroic scars and dizzying smile.

𓆰𓆪 cw in this chapter⋙ canon divergence, nsfw, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, Gojo with scars, one sided conflict, one sided pining, suggestive stuff, they are both a little stupid about e/o, misogyny (not by Gojo), internalized misogyny on reader's part, insecurities, dysfunctional families, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, self deprecation on reader's behalf, angst, some fluff, condescending Gojo, they do stuff in bed idk how to explain, manhandling, love bites, hickeys and marks, teasing, so much teasing, very lowkey dirty talk, talk about virginity, mentions of breeding, there is reluctant consent, emotionally detached Gojo, Gojo is just a bit mean, sexual tension in the air or just need to runaway? reader in her early thirties, Gojo is in his mid thirties.

𓍯𓂃 a/n: hope you have fun reading <3 if you'd like to be added to the tag list, refer to the series masterlist<3

word count: 7.5k

The world of jujutsu was reformed drastically following the events of devastation that took place during the Shinjuku showdown. Many lives were lost, and many were left alive with the misfortune of living with the memories of the events. One such person happened to be the strongest himself, Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru basically came back from touching death himself. 

The sheer surprise of his life being spared after all that he went through to have his students win a losing battle, and live a better life as a sorcerer—was enough to have rumors circulate that perhaps the now scarred up Gojo Satoru is just a shell of a man from who he used to be.

The intensity of his powers were apparently dulled, especially the six eyes. The great blessing and curse on Gojo Satoru’s name, his six eyes, were left intact, but rendered basically powerless. 

But it did not matter how much Gojo Satoru has weakened, how the current state of him could not compare to who he was. Because this was a man who has escaped death time and time, any fear that may have been there in those glowing eyes, was gone to say the least.

If one does think of it, Gojo Satoru is just as much of a changed man as everyone thinks of him to be, the nights he used to sleeplessly spent were now spent with a better sleep schedule. False pretenses were dropped. He was older, wiser, a man who has been struck with grief all through his life, and was now living a more predictable life. Now he just spent his days looking after his estate, staff, and helping his students as much as he could as a more powerful figure, in terms of not only his physical but also political capabilities.

The gruesome news of what took place in the room of the higher ups before the Shinjuku showdown was the first of such help. Just whispers were heard about the state of the room, if he was ever bravely asked of what exactly happened that day, the eerie smile was enough, on top of his now mostly left uncovered eyes.

The need for silence was more needed than boasting what he had done, with no remorse, as he never felt any for the vile people present in that room that day. As the jujutsu world was more or less at peace, the clan politics was still present, silently fuming away from everyone’s eyes. And as the head of the Gojo clan, he had to step up to his role more proficiently.

And with the newfound responsibilities and increasing age, the pressure to find a wife was becoming more and more vital. 

Hope was not something you relied on usually, or at all. As a person born with no actual cursed energy to wield them in a battlefield, other than being mildly able to see horrifying entities float around, it was hard. 

It was hard as it is to be a non-sorcerer born into a family of jujutsu sorcerers, it was probably harder as an unmarried woman, now in her thirties, surrounded by people who deem women nothing more than a womb on a pair of legs.

It was no concern to them if the world was burning down or if you were dying, your apparent reproductive clock was better understood by them than you. At least as a child it was a hush hush, and tease of sorts when the topic of your future husband was brought up, which was more often than not. This went on until you graduated university like any other normal human being, as the world of jujutsu did not seem to work out. 

You liked that life. The normal life that these people looked down upon, making normal friends, falling out with them over petty reasons than losing them to some blood hungry curse, going on trips them them, stressing about exams, pulling all nighters to submit a assignments, getting asked out on dates, growing plants, spending weekends by reading books and binge watching some show. 

There was nothing significant in the lifestyle these people aspired for and maintained.

And you did not want to end up in an unfamiliar house having to start from scratch, how to mind yourself and navigate the unprovoked stares of disgust. Especially by a man who was supposed to love you for better and for worse, til death does you apart—if it were up to you, you would not like to bind yourself to this man, to begin with. 

But then again, that was all wishful daydreaming. Especially when you are already sitting in a reserved private room at some fancy place, waiting to meet another prospective husband. At this point you have met at least over ten or hundred possible husbands, you have lost the count. To your parents and clan they were either too obnoxious, not as affluent as them, too egregious, not influential enough, or not as powerful as them. But this was no ordinary prospective meeting. After all this was the potential meeting that could tie your family to the Gojo clan.

He was everything they wanted to be, had all the qualities they were looking for in your future husband, and everything they despised. He was too egregious, too obnoxious, too condescending, righteous to a fault, and too giving. Yet, it did not waver their desire to have you tied down to this man. That was the effect of Gojo Satoru. It did not matter how much he had weakened in terms of physical strength compared to the new generation, it was how he boasted of that weakness and walked with his head higher than ever.

You did respect the man immensely. But you could not help but hold grudges against this man, whom you are yet to even meet. Grudges over how freely he lived. You have never in your life felt jealous of your peers’ powers, surely you have felt resentment. But that was over your own blood. But this man in particular you could not escape, probably even to the pits of hell he will follow you there to agonize your life.

The thought of possibly calling him your husband made your stomach fill with bile. 

Your silent thoughts ran wild as you waited silently, sitting opposite an empty chair, surrounded by people chattering anxiously about the absent man in question. Your parents, a few important members of your clan, and a few members of the Gojo clan started to become more and more weary about the clan head’s arrival. 

The clamour in the room stopped way before the doors to the room slid open. That was the sort of energy he exuded. Enigmatic and formidable. 

The man who walked in, adorned in the most finely made white haori, complementing his hair, with a scarf around his neck. He looked almost the part of the groom, with half the outfit already hanging off his shoulders. But it was not the careful stitching of the jacket, or his sculpted body peeking through the compressed shirt beneath his jacket, or the piercing blue orbs set on you, that made you static in your seat—breathless even. 

The three big scars that cut through his left cheek, under his right eye, and the one stretching from his chin down his jawline, accompanied by more scattered and faded out smaller scars, spread through every visible part of his body—that is what had your mind standing still in awe. 

“Ah! Greetings Gojo-sama. Such an honor to be in your presence, finally.” Your father’s voice brought you out of the blue pupils assessing every single cell on your body. The realization that you had dared to hold gaze with Gojo Satoru of all people, that too on your first meeting, ran your throat dry. Quickly training your eyes on the table in front of you, as if it was the most interesting piece of furniture, you reached for the glass of water served to you. Hoping, praying, begging that you did not just offend him. 

“Why? I made everyone wait too long.” The tone of his voice suggested anything but a polite question. Maybe steadiness and jest, but no place for ease. 

“No! Of course not, in fact you are right on time!” One of the Gojo clan members quipped beside him. Looking ever so slightly from the edge of your eyelashes, you presumed this was the usual. 

“Really? Then do you mind telling me if I'm actually on time or not? ” The question was directed to no one in the room but you. 

“Gojo-sama, how can she-” Satoru cuts off your mother before she could finish the poor excuse she was about to make, “I was clearly not speaking to you, was I? Now, are you able to answer my simple question or simply too fascinated by the table?” A calculative smile stretched across his face. 

“It is made out of cedar wood if you are wondering about that.”

The tone of his voice and that smile irritated something in you. All your life you have been a compliant decorative doll made out of unmoving porcelain, yet the sheer change in the inconspicuous inflection of this man’s words, pissed you off beyond everything. 

“You are 24 minutes late.” The words came out unusually harsher than your usual voice. “Gojo-sama.”

The last bit of that respect came from the instant realization of what you did, followed by your mother’s eyes almost popping out of its sockets and your father’s disappointed sigh. They were as sure as you were, that this meeting is not going to work out in their favor. You were, on one hand ecstatic to have ensured that you were never going to be called this man’s wife, on the other hand the anticipation of what was to follow this meeting once you get home, made your stomach drop.

The members of either clan were already engaged in a dispute of words. “How dare a woman born with no cursed energy speak in such a tone with the head of the Gojo clan!” one of the members of his clan spoke with displeasure, slightly sitting up in his seat.

“Please excuse her insolence, she does not know any better. Apologize. Right this instance.” Your father urged you with his teeth pressed together. 

You should’ve noticed the anger in his tone, but you were too busy observing the man sitting in front of you, from the curtains of your eyelashes as you held your head low. He sat with his grinning face held in his hand, the elbow of the said hand rested on the table, as he took a big sip of his tea. All the while boring his gaze in your, already itching with discomfort, skin. 

The sound of the cup of tea pressed between his shining lips, being set down on the cedar table made everyone stop their sharp words thrown your way. It was definitely not the sound that the cup made, but rather whose cup it was, that made them halt their charges.

“I see. Then I must apologize to my wife to be, for making her wait that long for me.”

Weddings are difficult.

It takes a lot of preparation. Mentally and physically, it is extremely straining and of course the preparation, just organizing a lot of things all at once, drives one insane. The venue, the guests, the font for the wedding invitation, gifts for the guests, flowers, color of the silverware etc. meticulous things. And it takes a lot of people to have two people unite, in the name of the law and society, with God as the witness. But it is particularly harder to realize the significance of the act of being wed to a person, when you have no idea who that person is beyond the whispering gossips and scars of battle adorning his pretty face.

When you had no contribution to the choices made for the wedding preparation, or the person you are to be wed, it all feels less magical and more of a fever dream. The days before the wedding, you spent them holed up in your room, not really doing anything more than what you were required to do. So you solemnly spent those swift days contemplating things over and over again. 

You thought you might not want to see your husband to be, before the wedding itself. But when the week before the wedding your father informed you that Gojo Satoru himself seeked out to have dinner at your house, you could not help but anticipate the sight of him. Wondering if he might show up in more casual clothing than his formal getups, wondering if the scar under his eye is still the same or did it somehow morph its shape, even if it has only been three weeks since you have seen him.

So you could not help but feel disappointment when he never showed up. All the food that was decorated on the dinner table was already cold, when an informant came to tell that, ‘Gojo-sama has sent the word that he cannot make it, and he is deeply apologetic to his fiance.’ 

Your shoulders sagged down as quickly as your father just asked everyone to start their meal. You did not understand the loss of appetite when everything before you was so delicious. It was all very confusing, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time before the wedding to reassure yourself. But then again, you cannot get rid of the doubt that did not stem from worry, but is fostered by fear.

“Are you ready?” your mother's voice made you look away from the reflection of yourself and instead your eyes focused on her. Because at least the harshness in her voice was more familiar than your own reflection.

“Time for you to enter. Everyone is waiting.”

The idea of being a married woman, to the strongest, at that—made the weight of the ceremonial kimono feel heavier than any piece of clothing you have ever dawned. The hood of the wataboshi  partially covering your face felt like a shield, because while walking down the aisle it hid your eyes from peeking a glimpse of your groom. As much as it felt like you were dying, with the way your throat was constricting, making it harder for any air to pass—you could not help but take a peek at your groom, from below your hood, who was already standing there waiting for you.

His back was facing the shrine’s altar, and his eyes were trained on you. He looked like no other groom. Probably because no other groom has ever welcomed his bride with such a huge grin, while showing his back to the altar. It was Gojo Satoru after all. When has he done anything the usual way?

“Goodness, felt like you took forever sweetheart.” 

His extended hand reached for yours, to pull you up to the podium, to have you stand beside him. The sight of his palms practically swallowing your entire hand, felt foreign. But the coldness emitting off his touch was worse. It was weird that he was touching you, but at the same time, it felt as if he was far away from your grasp. The distance and the coldness was far too sharp for you to keep holding his hand. And he probably understood that as well, as he loosened his grip to let you slip your hands out of his as soon as you could.

How the entire thing happened was beyond you. Your head was too occupied with how gorgeous he looked in his groom’s wear. Or maybe his blinding hair, or the scars scattered all over him, making him look more commanding than terrifying. It was all just very swift, if you had to describe it.

One moment you are contemplating whether you should make a run for it, not that it would help you. And then in another few seconds you two are already on your third cup of sake, completing the san-san-kudo ceremony, uniting yourself to him and joining your name to his.

“Still want to make a run for it sweets?”

You just looked at him, slightly horrified. “Anyone with two eyes can tell what you are thinking if they can catch a glimpse behind that hood, and I have six of them.” There was a tone of jest in his voice and the grin on his face.

“No. I, am just not feeling that well since this morning.”

“Then we must do something about that.” In one quick second, you were suspended in the air in his arms, your body was held close to his chest with the help of his arms. 

The yelp that left your lips sounded louder than it should have, because that room full of relatives and influential people fell silent to the ordeal in front of them. But your astonishment was not due to the fact that your newly officialized husband has decided to embarrass you in a shrine where god witnessed your union—it was rather how contrary to the earlier, he felt warm.

“You feel warmer.” you could not help but let your thoughts slip out in a murmur. “Surprised?” you nod hesitantly realizing how that slipped out in a murmur.

“My infinity was up earlier, I noticed how you got startled. And how dare I make Lady Gojo flinch. ” There was a sense of tease in his tone, but also laced with pride and maybe some joy? He never fails to leave you perplexed. You had nothing to answer to that. Lady Gojo. That is who you were. The weight of your title made your head spin as Gojo walked you two out of the shrine, with you still in his arms.

The reception went as smoothly as it could have. Honestly coming to the reception was harder than the reception itself. Being in an enclosed space with Gojo was really more scary than marrying him in front of thousands of people. Now you just have to do exactly that for the rest of your life, or until your services are required. 

He did not say or do anything much for the better part of the car ride to the location, other than handing you a water bottle and some packed riceballs, which were kept in the car before you two got there, with his instructions you presumed. You took it without any reluctance.

“Eat well. Who knows how much you might be able to eat there.” He was not wrong, you were expected to look and act as the perfect newly wed bride to the Gojo clan head, and that meant sitting there pretty and smiling at everyone. So you silently ate what you were given, unperceptive to those blue eyes staring at you with the intention of noting down every little detail about you, as a grin involuntarily stretched across his face, unbeknownst to either of you. Just Ichiji saw that in the rear view mirror and felt some relief for his employer. 

With congratulations coming left and right, the title of Lady Gojo, being thrown at you at the end of every sentence, you could only think that your husband was right. Even the people of your previous clan were more respectful to you than they ever have been. As nice as they all have been, the pressure still hung suffocatingly high in the air. And you understood it had everything to do with the Gojo name being attached to you now. Or maybe it was Gojo Satoru himself, attached to you at every step, who made them hold their tongue. Your groom made it his mission to follow you around wherever you went, and loomed over every conversation you had with every familiar or unfamiliar individual. 

“Will you let her breathe in peace?” “You really thought he was not going to be too much at his own wedding?” Two people chimed, with another man following them closely with solemn eyes.

“Sure, make my wife hate me . Some friends you guys are.” Never in your life you thought you would see Gojo Satoru pout. He was formidable, smug, maybe petty, and condescending, but the only thing you could think for a second was, cute.

Upon introduction you acquainted yourself with Geto Suguru, Irie Shoko, and Nanami Kento. Few of Gojo Satoru’s friends and comrades. They were probably the only people you had a sound and relaxed conversation with. Satoru seemed more at ease around them as well. They were in fact, the first bunch of people you felt were nice to you without any incentive hanging over them. The individual dynamic they have with your husband, and just all four of them together made you feel jealous of their bond. But again, that is something one only gains by growing up together or almost dying beside each other. And they have all of it.

The night ended soon after with everyone taking their leave, and the hall slowly becoming desolate. Satoru was ready to retire for the day as well. As he went to have the car fetched for you two to take your leave, your mother took advantage of that chance to catch you in the hallway, before you could leave after your goodbyes. 

“You do know what you have to do tonight. Yes?”

The grip she had on your arm became increasingly tighter as each second passed without an affirmative answer from you. “Yes.”

“Do as you are instructed. And just let him take it.” Those were the last words you heard from your mother. Any sane person would gag at such interaction, but it was no more a  surprise to you. Seeing your mother put on a faux smile as she entered the main hall, with one last glance at your way, ‘take it’ , that is all that you heard. You have been taught to just take it, all your life. If your male cousin likes your things, they can just take it. Your father is scolding you for speaking an octave too high, you just have to take that. You have to simply take all the snide comments and slimy suggestions, they are for your own good. When people made fun of your lack of powers, you were told to just take it as a lesser being. And now as you sit beside your newly wed husband, while being driven to his estate, you have to mentally prepare yourself to just let him take it.

After all that is all you were made for, that is all you are worth.

“Still not feeling well?”

The sudden question made you look at the source of the voice sitting beside you on the plush leather seats. “Yes?”

“Yes, you are not feeling well? Or yes, you were not listening to me?”

“Oh. I am sorry.” “Was that either of the options? Hmm?” The smile on his face was oddly comforting, and genuine. But that made it all more sickening.

“I did not hear you, I was just distracted.” “I guessed as much.” He did not say anything more, he looked away and went back to facing his side of the window, as did you. Or so you thought.

Satoru has been observing you since he came back from getting Ichiji to get the car up in front of the hotel, where the reception was held. He followed you closely from behind sensing the cloud of distress making its way back above your head. He somehow managed to get rid of them during the reception, and something or someone ruined all his hard work. And he did not appreciate that. 

Right now he was trying to get a glimpse of your reflection on his side of the window. It was not slick. Nor was it very effective. Trying to find your eyes in the dark tinted glass was making him annoyed. He just wanted to hold your face in both his hands and stare down in your irises to draw out all the unspoken answers from the depths of your soul.

But that would effectively scare you off more than you already were.

So the next best thing was showing concern through more subtle actions. Like running out of the car just as it stopped on the stone driveway, in front of the huge doors of the main entrance. He made his way over to your side before you could even open your door. And in a blink of eye you were back in his arms. Now without the Haori, his skin was much warmer through the fabric of his Montsuki.

“Don't want you to tire yourself out more." He mumbled, way too close to your face than you would appreciate, his eyes were focused on the stairs leading into the entrance of your new house. 

“Who am I if not your most obedient servant, Lady Gojo.” 

Now it felt like he was trying his best to embarrass you. Was he trying to patronize you? 

“You should not say something like that Gojo-sama, what if someone heard you?”

“If someone dared to eavesdrop on words meant for my wife, in the privacy of my arms— they know better than gambling with their lives.” The chuckle that left him was anything but humorous. The threat was very real behind those words, probably more present in his voice than his words.

The walk to the bedroom was long, it took many turns at long hallways to reach what seemed like the opposite end of the entryway. Where stood two sliding doors proud and all alone in that entire hallway. And every step he took to get closer to them felt like a sigh of breath leaving your throat to never return. And he probably felt that with the gripping dent of your nails in the back of neck, but he welcomed that. He felt nothing but contentment in you losing your composure in his arms. And he wished for nothing, but a lifetime of you letting yourself express your most hidden self in his arms, and have you leave your mark on him.

The bedroom was huge. And it was decorated with more than hundred candles, to perceptive eyes. All the expensive decoration, furniture, painting and scroll went invisible to your eyes—because there was only one thing in that room that caught your interest.

The bed. It stood on all its strong legs, near the huge windows overlooking the outside. It was surrounded by more candles, scented ones. And it smelled like the ocean and sweet tropical fruits. There were bouquets of roses and Lilies on each side of the bed, on the bedside tables. As Satoru placed you down on the fluffy and soft covers, the mattress almost engulfed you in itself. And it all became too real.

You might be Lady Gojo now. But the man hovering above you was Lord Gojo.

He can joke about being at your beck and call all he wants, but he was not the one married off to serve you. It was you who was instructed to just be a good wife and take it. You were here, on his bed, to serve him. To let him take you, take your virginity, and claim you as one of his many conquests. All you were good for, was to lie there and take his seed, to give him an heir and silently sit in a corner unless you are spoken to.

So why was he walking away from you? 

“You are not- going to?” the hand you used to hold onto his wrist, to prevent him from walking away from you, was shaking. 

“What do you mean?” The scrunch of his eyebrows made you think for a second he might be genuinely confused about what you might be referring to.

“You should know what I mean.” He truly is such a cruel man.

“If you don't speak to me clearly, I am afraid, I am too dumb to understand.” The smirk on his face said otherwise. “You are so mean.”

“How am i being mean to my own wife, if i don’t even understand what she is implying, hmm?” 

“How will it be any more helpful if I say it out loud?” “I don’t know? You might have to find out for yourself.” He was annoying you now.

“I am trying to perform our duties and get over this, Gojo-sama.” Hopefully your stern voice camouflaged your nervousness and fear.

“Do you want to consummate our marriage that bad, Gojo-sama?”

The incredulous look on your face upon being addressed by the same title as him, by Gojo Satoru himself, was the last thing you expected out of this conversation. 

“You- you, just- cannot address me like that!” “Why not? You are also a Gojo now. In fact, you are the lady of the clan now.” His argument was making more sound sense to you than your own head.

“I would have to argue your position is much more important than mine. From this day forward you are also Gojo-sama whether you like it or not. I hope you get used to it. And I don’t want to be called out by some title by my own wife.”

“You keep saying ‘my wife, my wife’, yet you are acting oblivious about our marital duties!” Suddenly the air was much heavier than how lightly it was circulating through the huge room. “You might get away with putting up a front, but my position in this marriage has been set in stone. So please spare me the questions and put an heir in me as soon as you can.”

You anticipated an array of reactions after such audacious proclamations. You guessed as much, the very second your tongue stopped speaking, the emotions on his face might be anything but that humorous and kind softness he has, oh so graciously, offered you up to this moment so far. And that made you look away from his face, which looked more halted than stoic, and in your experiences, surprises are almost always followed by anger or joy. And you were definitely not expecting him to clap his hand and offer you a big smile.

Your hand on his hand felt more foreign than before, so you pulled it off him. And it allowed him the satisfaction of at least not feeling your miserably shaking and soaking palm. And there it was, the anger. 

Just as you let go of him, his own hand grabbed a mean grip on your wrist. It was confusing to understand what exactly happened in the moments after that. One second he is pulling you off the bed towards himself, next he is bending down to reach you half way across and pushing you on the bed with the weight of his body. You were essentially pinned onto your new marital bed. Both hands pinned on either side of your head, with a mean grip on your wrists by his huge calloused hands, and you were sure that you were done for.

“Since you have already cooked up these false ideas about what this relationship might look like, how about I show you a little glimpse into these imaginations?” 

His face was probably close to yours by no more than half of one centimeter, you could feel his eyes searching for something in your own eyes, and you had no confidence to fake it. So you just shut your eyes real tight and waited for what was to come.

Satoru’s right hand glided itself from your wrist, to your forearm, under the sleeves of your kimono, until it reached up to your arms, where the bunched up clothing did not allow him any more access over your skin. The loud gulp you took, out of some sort of relief, was gone in a second.

Satoru was not a man to give up on the first hindrance, and people learn that usually the hard way. His eyes were more concerned with how your eyebrows were scrunched up, how tightly your eyes were closed and how your eyelashes were looking longer like that, or how you might end up making your lips bleed if you keep on biting down on them that hard. And how beautiful your neck looked, with the little knot in your throat going up and down with nervous gulps. 

His right hand started working to get rid of the belts on your kimono, and his hand was slipping past every layer of clothing to reach your body. While his mouth made itself useful on your neck, peppering the most delicate kisses from the base of your neck, collar bones, along the column of your neck, up to your chin. And with several little scattered kisses on your jaw, Satoru’s eyes found your mouth open in a small gasp. Thankfully your lips did not bleed. But your eyes remained closed, too afraid to see what was going on, in the dim light of the candles illuminating the room in an orange hue, you were too scared. 

You did not want to think about how his hand felt so cold and soothing on your burning skin or how his lips felt so warm and comforting. You did not want to see those blue eyes, or those scars spread all across his skin, particularly the one under his eye—it made you train your eyes back into those dilating pupils every time.

Satoru's hand was just below your breasts, it just stayed there. Sometimes moving an inch too close and then just going back to drawing circles around your torso, squeezing your waist at times—all while his teeth and lips worked all over your decolletage. Little bites and long intervals of his lips sucking marks around your neck, drew out hisses of pleasure out of you.

Who knew that being under your husband could make one feel this much pleasure?

His left hand never left its grip on your right hand. The platinum ring on his finger became warm over time, just like his cold hand, as it remained intertwined with your fingers. While his right hand found its way down your stomach, on the waistband of your panties. It was nothing impressive, not the sort of underwear one expects a newly wed bride to wear. It was a simple cotton panty, the bare minimum. Your family forgot that detail probably.

But Satoru absolutely did not mind. He liked the slightly loose elastic, it felt like any moment he could slip it off you, or slip his own hand inside. And it felt worn in, soft and malleable. He could tear it off you in a millisecond. 

“Get it off already.”

“Ordering me around already, Gojo-sama? Hmm?” You were losing your patience. Who could’ve predicted that? 

“Stop that.” “Stop what?” “You know what.” 

“Again, Gojo-sama, if you do not tell me how will I know? Your poor, poor husband is not that sharp.” His patronizing voice vibrated in the crook of your neck. 

“Stop. C-calling m. Me. Gojo-sama.” 

“I don't know? Should I?

“Yes! You sound ridiculous!” Your eyes finally shit open and you rose up to now lean on your elbows, to get a better look at him. The unfastened kimono slipping off you and pooling under you in the process. 

His eyes remained trained on you, hooded and shadowed by storms and turmoil in the blue sea, as he found refuge between your open legs. He was practically lying on your breast, with your bra on the verge of slipping off and giving him easy access to them, to mark them all over in pink and purple. Because clearly the plethora of lovebites on you, were not enough.

He did not say anything. Just the hand which was previously on your waistband, glided downward until it reached the back of your knees. His fingers worked with stealth while his eyes distracted you, like a predator. He grabbed onto your knee and pushed you back down on the bed, as both his hands found their place back on your wrists. While he cozied himself between your legs, and sat back on his knees.

He leaned in close enough to hover his own set of lips just above your own, just as they barely made contact—he moved his neck to glide those lips across your cheek, to your ear. 

“I am glad we agree.”

“Then I can count on you, to not call me by that title again, right sweetheart?” 

You did not have to see his eyes or his face to nod an instant yes.

“Use your words. Lady Gojo.” His voice came out harsher than ever.

“I won't call you that again.”

“Ah. What an obedient wife you are. Hmm? Your parents will be proud.”

With those last words dripping with nothing but sarcasm, he got off you. He silently fixed your kimono, tucked you in, and kissed your forehead with a whisper of goodnight. Right before he left you there to contemplate what just happened, and locked himself in the bathroom attached to your bedroom, for what felt like more than an hour. You did not really know if you were supposed to wait for him or not, what was he going to do when he came back? 

All sorts of thoughts raced through your head, as you drifted into sweet slumber, on the most soft and comfortable bed you've ever come across in your life.

While Gojo Satoru hunched over the sink, looking like a freshly ripened tomato. He stared at himself into the mirror, with nothing but disbelief at his own audacity. 

The morning came faster than it should have. It felt particularly premature to you when you spent the rest of your night, after the events that took place on your marital bed, by watching the ceiling above you with a blank stare. You did pass out for a brief while, but that was out of being overwhelmed to the point of losing consciousness. You were not sure if this was ok, to sleep in this huge room by yourself. But you could not, or maybe did not want to stop Satoru from storming out of the bathroom, and then speeding out of the room without sparing you a single glance. You wanted to enjoy one night peacefully in this bed, to compensate for many tumultuous ones to inevitably follow. 

Even when getting off your bed to pace around the room, to maybe tire yourself out, sleep did not come. But if getting married was not tiresome enough to knock you out, then maybe walking around the room won’t do you any good as well. So you decided to take a walk in that huge garden sitting outside the floor to ceiling windows nearby your bed. 

You did not make it much far into the huge garden. After the neatly arranged traditional garden, laid vast lands of grass and wild flowers, and bushes, and an arrangement of trees, including two cherry blossom trees sitting across each other, along the edge of a lake. It was lit with the reflection of the moonlight, falling on the surface of its water, scattering everywhere in a chaotic rhythm, because of the busy fishes moving around in it, probably enjoying the serene night.  You would have liked to go take a seat near the lake, on one of those benches placed around it. But when you approached the nearest bench, under one of the cherry blossom trees, you found your husband already occupying it. 

Maybe in another world, you went up to it and sat down beside him silently, maybe you spoke with him and tried to start a conversation. Maybe you two just sat together in silence, or maybe he saw you and walked away. But in this world, you could not even cross the five feet of distance that laid between you and that bench. Instead you walked back to your room, as silently as you could. You spent the rest of the night trying to get some sleep, as you laid on your side, and stared out of those huge windows by your bed, until the dark sky became blue.

Who knows what the outcome could have been if you walked up to that bench last night. Who knows what could have happened if only Satoru turned around and asked you to sit down instead of patiently waiting for you to come up to him. I mean, you should know better, five feet of distance is not that much for their presence to go unnoticed by him or his six eyes. Especially when it is you. 

The morning itself was more uneventful, compared to last night. The shower was particularly soothing. ESpecially where he touched you last night. Maybe it has something to do with his powers you told yourself, but you knew better. Why it was burning everywhere he touched or why those marks of his teeth and lips stung so sweet—was not something you really wanted to think about, as it made you go weak in  the knees.

It was all very uneventful, until you came out of the bathroom after your shower, to find Satoru sitting at the end of the bed. He was still in the black kimono from the wedding. He looked like he did not get any sleep either, or so it seemed, because this time around his eyes were covered with his blindfold. It was eerie, for most people to see Gojo Satoru without his black blindfold, but for you it was probably the other way around. It was weird to see him with it for once. And that person felt like an entirely different person, than the one you married yesterday. 

“Goodmorning, Goj- Satoru-san.” His given name did not roll off your tongue the smoothest. But he appreciated that you listened to him. 

“You can drop the honorifics as well.” There was an appreciative smile on his face as he spoke, but even with his blindfold on, you could tell that smile did not reach his face. “I do not know if I can.”

Satoru did not push you. One step at a time, right? Even if these steps did not come out of your own volition, but his petty threats, he still welcomed them with a humorous smile. 

“I wanted to apologize about yesterday.” He did not suit humility, that is what you thought when a grin stretched along your face. Seeing him squirm and look so uncomfortable was new, even when his eyes were covered, you imagined them to look more sorry than body language. Satoru really was just not familiar with saying sorry, but he never backed away from apologizing when he needed to.

“I really crossed a line there, just to prove a point.” you did not say anything back but just stood in front of him with your freshly out of shower wet hair dripped droplets of water on the carpet. “I would understand if you do not want to forgive me, I would like to make it up to you however.” He was trying his best. His best to not stare at you blatantly in that silken baby blue robe clinging to your body, that he personally picked out for you. Or the peeking marks he left on you, that made him go dizzy. It was all him.

“It is alright.” you went to sit beside him, but instead of sitting just by him, you sat on one of the corners of the bed, keeping the distance between you two. “Really?”

“Yes. I do not think I would have minded if you went all the way. I do not really have any say in that.” 

“What?” He genuinely looked confused for a few first seconds. Then something else creeped up on him, something close to pity or disgust. 

“I was wedded off to you to serve you and your bloodline. It is my purpose.”

Satoru felt disgusted. By everyone and anyone who has ever made you think about yourself like this. But he was mostly disgusted by himself.

“I do not know how much more plainly I can put it, and it is not just some opinion of mine, it’s just the truth. But you are wrong to think that.” He got off the bed, to stand in front of you. At an arms length he looked further away than he actually was. His shoulders looked stiff and his jaw was tight. You have somehow managed to piss him off by saying things you were instructed to say all your life, to not piss off your husband.

“You are wrong.” 

That was all he said before he stormed out of the room without a second glance. Exuding the sort of energy that said he might erupt like an angry volcano any minute.

SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIEW . NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

divider by @/omi-resources. header is from jjk manga, and watashitachi wa douka shiteiru adaptation

honestly i have been cooking this for almost a month and i am so indecisive about what i wanted to do with him i do not want to make an angsty story where the angst if because of Gojo being an ass, lol i think there are plenty of those, done far better than wtv i can do. so this guy is still very canon adjacent, emotionally unavailable in a way you know the people you think you have all figured but then suddenly you are like wtf??? i do not know anything about you. so lol i am using my own emotional constipation as heavy reference. he has many many layers, i want to explore his death in the shinjuku fight, his powers which i have left intact mostly but in a more weakened state than his students and what not. i want to explore his thoughts on that. reader's insecurities i wanted to make them as real as possible so if i make anyone sad, it was the goal, also i am sorry. it will get sadder just saying. even though i will make them have so many suffocating with tension scenes. it will be happy eventually!!! and i hope you gusy likeee itttt

tag list (1): @cheralith @slayzzz @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @tabalugax @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thetiredcollegestudent @tokyolhtl @emochosoluvr @moncher-ire @hyunjinspdf @younjunie @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @em0cleo @novaisbebita @hisarmsaremycocoon @wise-fangirl @sheep-infog @arrozyfrijoles23 @ppejmurde @miizuzu @ricecake-mochi @tushkiiiiiii @ovela @69-gojos-wife-69 @fariylixie0915 @lxxnour @mereniss @theorphicangel

[specialgradefckr]

Satoru Gojo who thinks you're only with him for the money.

He's pretty insufferable, after all. And a shitty boyfriend to boot - always bailing on dates, showing up at weird times, telling you vague stories about his work that don't make sense.

Honestly he's surprised you've stuck around this long.

That you still read every message he spams you when he's bored and lonely fighting special grade curses.

(after all, he always has to go on those missions alone. there's no one who can go with him.)

You still text him back. Open the door to let him in. Smile when you see him, like it's the very first time and he can tell you're just so star-struck by his eyes as he tugs down his blindfold with a grin, "Do I look blind to you?" "Blindingly handsome!"

He'd laughed at that. You're shocked by his appearance, but you're earnest, and so obviously smitten, and he loves a woman with a little humor.

Satoru Gojo who didn't expect you to text him back after the first night, but you did.

cutie pie: omg, those look so good! what flavor? satoru: my favorite, the edamame and cream~ cutie pie: bring some for me next time you visit <3 i'll feed them to you ;)

On a lesser man, that might have sounded presumptuous. To Satoru, it's the perfect come-on. Casual, flirty, and easy to do - all the makings of a great hookup.

He hadn't expected to spend half the night on his knees like a dog, licking at your fingers. Watering over a thumb pressed down against his tongue while you drooled your mochi-sweet saliva straight into his open mouth.

Unexpected, but amazing! Satoru knew then that you were going to be a treat worth savoring.

It was just a shame that he could only enjoy you for one night.

Not even that much, really. He'd been called away in bed; one arm wrapped around your darling naked form, holding you pressed against him.

Left while you were asleep without a word. He'd texted you on the way, a blase little "sowwyyyyy smth came up! u were gr8 last night." and no real expectations of a return.

If you were (reasonably) upset with him, he'd block you - his one act of kindness to a woman he couldn't treat right.

Instead he gets "thanks! you weren't so bad yourself haha" and your enthusiasm is obviously a bit defused, but he can work with this.

He lays it out to you, next chance he gets. Tries to text you often enough to make sure you don't think he's ghosted you.

"I know this might sound like the kind of thing married men say," He says with a big, sardonic smile, "But I have a very demanding job. I don't have time for a relationship. And for personal reasons, I can't agree to be exclusive, either."

There's a look you give him that makes him wonder what exactly you think of his job. Satoru vaguely wonders if you think he's a sex worker.

He hopes you try to find him on porn websites later. Maybe he should film himself jerking off real quick sometime so you can watch it.

"That makes sense," Is what you say, instead of any of the ridiculous thinks he'd imagined.

You don't seem thrilled about it, but you don't look immeasurably disappointed, either. You're a smart girl. You'd probably already figured he couldn't commit.

"But!" He chirps, "I am very very interested in seeing you again. Multiple agains. And I'd like to come to an arrangement that makes that easier for you, since my schedule is so tight..."

For a moment, you stay quiet, and Satoru wonders if he should just offer you cash upfront. But you're receptive, and things go well.

Worryingly well, to be honest. What type of girl are you, exactly? Naughty thing. Get money from a lot of men, do you?

You laugh when he tries to bring it up in bed, "You're one to talk, Mr. can't-promise-exclusivity," you tease, running a hand through his hair while you smile at him.

He likes it when you do that. He likes a lot of things you do.

The real wonder is - although he is absolutely spectacular in bed of course - how much do you like it?

The whole relationship has to happen on his shitty, inconsistent schedule. He can't commit to a relationship or tell you about his job - you're better off that way. Even if you don't know.

Satoru Gojo who pretends to go on dates with other girls sometimes just so that no one watching him thinks he's serious about you. He can't have the Higher Ups thinking of you as a tool to use against him.

He can't even offer you exclusivity. Even if he wants to. Even if he struggles to get it up with those girls - his heart just isn't it in - when he's making sure everyone who's watching him knows you're just one of several people he's having sex with.

After all, the only thing that could be worse than people thinking you were the strongest sorcerer's weakness, was if they thought you might be pregnant with the strongest sorcerer's child.

But if he's fucking around, if he's the whore his so-called superiors make him out to be - then you're safe. Just another girl.

And god, does he take advantage of it.

Texting you late at night. Early in the morning. Times don't mean a lot to him these days.

The most sleep he ever gets is the rare night he spends with you, maybe once or twice a month, five hours in your arms before he pulls himself away and slinks out of bed while you're still asleep like a guilty dog.

He doesn't deserve your warmth or your bed. But he'll take it while you're offering. Eat it all up and beg shamelessly for seconds.

He makes up for it with money, or tries to. Leaves you treats and sweets and other gifts. Spam texts you and facetimes you constantly - when he can.

To be perfectly honest, he's kind of expecting to be dumped any day. He'll take whatever he can get.

If paying your rent or buying you a house makes you feel guilty enough to stay a few days longer with him, that's a good use of his money.

He arranges for you to receive an offer for a remote job, something flexible that will let you meet him whenever he comes calling.

His gifts get more lavish. He's always generous in bed, makes sure you have a good time.

He has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Sometimes he just stares at you when you're asleep. It feels like a waste to spend his precious few hours with you sleeping.

Look at you. All peaceful in his arms. Cuddling up to him.

He can admit, in the dead of night, with no witnesses but himself; the sight makes his heart tug.

If he could, he'd stay. Wake up next to you in the morning. Make breakfast, flirt, joke, maybe even take a little ~morning shower~ and have some fun in there.

It's so clear in his head. How you'd joke back. Smile and giggle and playfully bump against him. Give him a little kiss, a little hug before he leaves for work.

You would kiss his forehead when he got migraines. Hug him when he talks about his difficulties at work.

Your soft smile, your warm lips, your tight hug. It's all so vivid in his head. How you'd look in the morning light, staring at him while you think he's asleep.

Would you stare? What would show on your face, then?

He tries, very hard, not to imagine what your face must look like when you wake up alone every time you sleep with him.

What you think about when he's not there.

Do you wonder if he's with other women? Do you see his flirty texts - "sorry kitten daddy's gotta work late" "babygirl you're not my dad, he goes to bed at 9." - and wonder if he's said that to a hundred other girls?

Because he has. And that's what hurts, really. He could message a hundred girls and get a hundred vapid responses, all those notifications could build up in his phone and he wouldn't care.

But when it's you messaging him?

When you tell him about your day, or text him a picture, or pick up on the rare phone call he gets to make - Satoru's heart skips a beat.

What about you? He thinks about you checking your phone constantly to see anything from him, and it hurts.

You don't show any unhappiness about the arrangement. Every gift, every little arrangement or donation he makes, you accept it all with grace. Everything money can buy is yours, he makes that clear.

As long as you're with him, he'll spoil you rotten. And you were starstruck in the beginning, he could tell.

Expensive hotels, exclusive restaurants. First class flights everywhere, even a private jet if you want it. He brings you custom made jewelry worth more than people make in a year, pulls it out of his pocket and clasps it around your wrist like a passing trinket.

You get used to the constant spa days, the shopping trips. Ordering food for every meal. Living in a city center in a beautiful penthouse with brilliant fixtures. And you're happy like that. At least you look like you are.

But every time he sees you, you're with him. He can't tell if you miss him, if you're sad when he's not there.

He... he sort of doesn't want to know.

Satoru Gojo who loves you. And he hopes to god you don't love him back.

After all, if you did, then you'd want things from him he can't give. Shouldn't give.

But if all you love is his money? He's got tons of it. You can have as much as you want. He can make you happy. He can buy the love he can't afford to earn. He'll never run out of funds.

As long as it's only his money you love, he can have you forever.

[kristina100000]

so much is happening fucking everywhere but what happened today in belgrade was insane. i just have no words. i keep getting goosebumps. god knows how many people were here, fuck me if there were not a good 500k - 1 mil, we sang the national anthem and i cried like a child after what feels like years. 15 minutes of silence for the people who tragically died in novi sad in november (pieces of shit, of course, used a sound grenade in the 11th minute to scare people away) and so on. this can never happen again. our government will burn along with everyone who still supports this regime. the entire balkan region will rise and live in unity. we must not hurt each other ever again

[torubeth]

he picks up his phone on the first ring, ‘yes sweetheart? did you already reach? where are you?’

‘i’m almost there ken but i think i’m gonna need a minute or two to recover’

concern flooded his mind ‘recover? what happened-‘

‘i just saw the most beautiful man ever!’ you squeal through the phone.

what.

‘he’s drop dead gorgeous ken! and he’s not even doing anything, he’s just standing there’ you sigh dramatically.

‘oh my god ken, his jaw is so chiseled i could grate cheese on it’ your squealing continues.

‘y/n what are you talking about?’

were you being serious right now? was his jaw not chiseled enough to grate cheese? was he not gorgeous?

why were you calling him, your dear boyfriend, to gush about some man guy?

‘and he’s in this light blue dress shirt which you already know is my personal weakness’

wait. oh.

just then, a small smile makes its way on to his face.

‘ken ken ken he just smiled! i think it might be my favourite smile ever! oh god, it’s so beautiful’ you’re swooning on the other side.

‘really? tell me more’ he’s full on grinning now.

‘i could go on and on but you know what? i think i’m gonna shoot my shot and ask him out. i’ll let you know how it goes later. bye, i love you’ you hang up and he has to stop himself from laughing.

he pockets his phone when sees you crossing the road to get to him.

you throw a small wave at him ‘hey, i was on my way to see my boyfriend but then i saw you and you’re just so beautifully sculpted and i decided that i’d rather spend my life with you instead. what do you say?’

‘i’ll have to ask my girlfriend about that’

‘of course a guy like you is off the market’ you feign defeat ‘but i bet i’m more prettier than her’

his eyes scan you from top to bottom ‘you’re ok i guess’

scoffing ‘gee ken thanks a lot. what’s the harm in playing along for a little bit?’ you pout, making him snicker.

you and your antics never fail to amuse him.

you feel his arms wrap around you then and pull you to his chest as you melt into him.

‘i’m not lying. my girl is the prettiest’ he says.

‘and i wasn’t either, you really do have a jaw for grating cheese’

(rblogs appreciated🤘🏼)

[pomegranatelifethis]

Live in the moment

Batfamily x Youngest and Clumsiest Little Sister

"You were just walking… how did this even happen?"

Being the youngest member of Gotham’s greatest hero family was already a challenge, but being a complete disaster made things even harder. Yet, your brothers adored you—despite the fact that you constantly got yourself into trouble… or accidentally put yourself in danger.

---

1. Dick Grayson (Nightwing) - "My Reflexes Have Improved Thanks to You."

Dick spent years training to perfect his reflexes… but his real test was you.

Catching falling cups before they hit the ground? ✅

Grabbing you before you tumbled down the stairs? ✅

Stopping you from accidentally falling onto criminals? (Not so much…)

"You know what? One day, I'm going to tie a bunch of balloons to you. At least that way, you can’t fall."

But as much as you exasperated him, your energy reminded him of his younger self. And deep down, he had silently sworn to always protect you.

---

2. Jason Todd (Red Hood) - "Are You Getting Into Trouble on Purpose?"

Jason could handle Gotham’s deadliest criminals, but your clumsiness? That was a different kind of nightmare.

One time, you accidentally spilled coffee on a gang leader. You don’t remember what happened next because Jason whisked you out of there before things could go south.

"Look, kid, if you ever do something like that again… you will, won’t you? Ugh."

No matter how much he grumbled, he was always the first to come to your rescue.

---

3. Tim Drake (Red Robin) - "You Don’t Have to Try This Hard to Die in Gotham."

Tim analyzed your clumsiness and tried to come up with solutions. But no matter what he did, you still found ways to get into trouble.

A simple walk = Crashing into a streetlamp.

Drinking water = Somehow short-circuiting Gotham’s power grid. (They still don’t know how.)

"Alright, new plan: I’m making a drone that follows you 24/7. Just in case."

He tried to keep you safe, but in the end, he just accepted that you were a walking disaster.

---

4. Damian Wayne (Robin) - "How Are You Even Related to Us?"

Damian expected you to live up to the Wayne name. But your technique? A complete disaster.

One time, during training in the Batcave, you somehow managed to punch yourself in the face.

"Biologically, how is that even possible?!"

But if anyone outside the family tried to hurt you? They’d quickly learn that Damian’s sword was much faster than their escape.

"You might drive me insane, but no one else is allowed to hurt you."

---

5. Bruce Wayne (Batman) - "You Are Gotham’s Biggest Danger."

Bruce knew Gotham was dangerous… but keeping you safe was a whole different battle.

Whenever you tried to sneak out of the Batcave, he always caught you. And every time, he would take a deep breath before speaking.

"I’ve told you countless times. It’s dangerous out there."

"But I was just walking—"

"Yes. And last week, while 'just walking,' you nearly fell off a construction site!"

But no matter how many rules he put in place, his biggest fear was losing you. And in his own way, he always made sure you knew how much he cared.

---

Conclusion:

Being the clumsiest, most trouble-prone member of the Batfamily wasn’t easy… but no matter what, they all loved you. And every time you found yourself in danger, they were always there to save you.

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ Lover boy 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men as your high school boyfriends

୨ৎ── . Zayne

“You’re wrong.”

Zanye sighed, already rubbing his temples. “I’m not wrong.”

“Yes, you are,” you insisted, crossing your arms and staring up at him with that stubborn gleam in your eyes—the one that meant you were ready to argue about the dumbest thing just to get a rise out of him. “Pancakes and waffles are not the same thing.”

Zayne exhaled sharply. “I never said they were the same. I said they’re basically similar because they’re both made of batter.”

“Yeah, and that’s wrong. They have different textures, different purposes, different souls, Zayne.”

Zayne rolled his eyes. “Souls? Are you seriously telling me a pancake has a soul?”

“Yes! Pancakes are soft and fluffy, comforting. Waffles are crunchy, mischievous. Chaotic.”

Zayne stared at you. “Chaotic?”

“Absolutely,” you said, completely serious. “You never know how much syrup a waffle is gonna trap. One bite could be perfect. The next? Syrup explosion. You never have that problem with pancakes.”

Zayne opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling again. “Love, it’s breakfast food.”

“It’s philosophy,” you shot back.

Zayne sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I literally don’t care.”

You smirked. “Because you know I’m right.”

Zayne groaned. “Oh my God—”

“You just hate that I’m always right—”

He kissed you.

Mid-sentence, mid-argument, Zayne just leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, successfully shutting you up.

For a moment, you forgot what you two were even talking about. His lips were warm, slow but firm, the kind of kiss that stole all your thoughts and left you completely dazed.

When he pulled away, he smirked. “There. Finally quiet.”

You blinked, processing what just happened. Then—

“…Okay, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong—”

Zayne groaned loudly, dropping his head against your shoulder while you laughed at his suffering.

“Why am I even dating you?” he mumbled against your sweater.

You grinned, running your fingers through his hair. “Because I’m adorable and you love me.”

Zayne just sighed, knowing there was no winning against you.

And, honestly? He didn’t mind losing.

୨ৎ── . Xavier

You sat cross-legged on the library floor, flipping through your notes while absentmindedly reapplying your chapstick. You swiped the balm over your lips, pressing them together to make sure it spread evenly. The soft scent of strawberries filled the air, mixing with the faint smell of old books.

When you glanced up, you caught Xavier staring at you, his head propped up on one hand, his book long forgotten. His light eyes were locked onto your lips, and you could practically see the thoughts running through his head.

You smirked. “You want some?”

Xavier blinked, snapped out of his trance. “…Huh?”

“Chapstick.” You held up the small tube and wiggled it between your fingers. “You keep licking your lips like you want some.”

Xavier scoffed, straightening up. “I was not—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, cupped his face, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Xavier froze. His brain? Completely short-circuited.

You pulled back with a smug smile, pleased with his dazed expression. “There. Now you have some.”

Xavier just blinked at you, lips slightly parted, as if trying to process what just happened.

You giggled and casually reapplied more chapstick, watching his face for a reaction. His eyes flickered from your lips to the lip balm and back to your lips again, like he was having an internal battle.

“…That’s cheating,” he finally muttered.

You grinned. “Oh? You wanted more?”

Xavier huffed, but his ears were red.

Feeling mischievous, you reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of different chapsticks. “Alright, since you’re so interested in my lip balm, let’s play a game.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow. “What kind of game?”

“Guess the flavor.” You held up a random tube. “I’ll put it on, you kiss me, and you try to guess what flavor it is.”

Xavier exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s just an excuse for you to kiss me.”

You feigned innocence. “What? Noooo. This is serious scientific research.”

Xavier rolled his eyes but leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. “Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

You quickly applied a new flavor and puckered your lips. “Okay, guess.”

Xavier leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss before pulling back just enough to murmur, “Mmm… vanilla?”

You gasped. “Ding ding ding! Correct!”

Xavier smirked. “Told you, I’m a pro.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how good you really are.”

The game continued, with you applying a new flavor each time and Xavier taking his time thoroughly testing each one. It was all fun and games until Xavier, now looking way too smug, whispered, “You’re just doing this so I keep kissing you, aren’t you?”

You, whose plan had completely backfired because now you were the one getting flustered, huffed and tossed a chapstick at him.

“Shut up and guess the next one.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

You barely had time to react before it happened.

One second, you were walking down the school hallway, minding your own business. The next, you were tackled.

Well, not tackled exactly—but a solid weight suddenly latched onto you, nearly knocking you off balance. Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and a familiar menace buried his face in your shoulder.

“Caleb!” you yelped, struggling slightly. “What the hell—get off!”

“No,” came his muffled reply.

You groaned, prying at his arms. “Why are you clinging to me like a damn koala?”

“Because I missed you,” he whined dramatically.

“…You saw me two hours ago.” you blinked.

“Two agonizingly long hours.”

You snorted, trying to push him off again, but Caleb only tightened his grip. A few passing students threw amused glances their way, but you had long since given up on trying to salvage your dignity around your boyfriend.

“You’re so needy today,” you muttered, exasperated.

“Wrong.” Caleb lifted his head slightly, smirking against your skin. “I’m always needy.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Alright, pretty boy, let me go. I have class.”

“No.”

“Caleb—”

“Give me a kiss first.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You literally ambushed me in the hallway, and you still want a kiss?”

“Uh-huh.” He gave you his best puppy-dog eyes. “C’mon, baby, please?”

You sighed dramatically before grabbing his face and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

The moment you pulled back, Caleb hummed, looking smug. “Another.”

“Oh my god.” You shoved him away. “Go bother someone else.”

“Impossible,” Caleb called after you as you walked off. “No one else is as cute as you.”

You didn’t turn around, but you definitely heard the girls nearby squeal at his words.

And judging by the stupidly proud grin you knew was on his face, that was exactly what he wanted.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

You barely had time to grab breakfast that morning, let alone do your hair. So now, as you plopped down next to Rafayel in the schoolyard, you dumped all your hair essentials on his lap with zero warning.

Rafayel raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be helping with this?"

"Obviously," you said, already gathering your hair into sections. "You have steady hands, you can at least hold a braid while I work on the rest."

Rafayel sighed but didn't argue. He held the braid you made as you worked on another, watching your nimble fingers move effortlessly. You were quick, practiced, and somehow managed to make it look effortless even without a mirror.

At some point, you passed him a brush. "Here. Try braiding this side."

Rafayel blinked. "Me?"

You smirked. "Scared?"

He scoffed, rolling up his sleeves. "Obviously not."

He was confident… until he actually started trying. Braiding was way harder than it looked. His fingers fumbled as he tried to copy your movements, but the strands kept slipping apart. You, watching out of the corner of her eye, started giggling.

"Stop laughing," Rafayel muttered, narrowing his eyes at his mess of a braid.

"I'm not laughing," you said, clearly laughing.

Rafayel gave up with a sigh. "Okay, fine. You're a hair-braiding genius. I'll stick to holding things."

You grinned in victory before reaching into your bag for a mirror. But instead of holding it yourself, you handed it to Rafayel. "Here. Be useful."

Rafayel rolled his eyes but held up the mirror as you added the final touches—clipping in colorful little pins and adjusting the braids into a cute, messy bun.

Then you looked at your reflection, tilting your head. "Not bad for a rushed job, right?"

Rafayel didn't answer.

Because he was gone. Utterly and completely gone.

You were adorable. No—beyond adorable. The little pops of color in your hair, the loose strands framing your face, the look of satisfaction in your eyes—he could die right now and be fine.

You finally glanced at him through the mirror. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rafayel barely processed the question. "You're—” he stopped, exhaled, then said it with his whole chest—"the cutest thing in the entire world."

You blinked, then rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, I’m serious.” He put down the mirror and grabbed your face between his hands. “I think my heart just exploded.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You tried to pry his hands off, but he just squeezed your cheeks.

“I will never stop,” Rafayel declared. “Not when you look this cute.”

You groaned, smacking his arm. “Just say you want a kiss and go.”

Rafayel grinned. “I do want a kiss.”

You huffed, but the way your lips twitched upward gave you away. Finally, you leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his lips before pulling back with a smirk.

“There. Now shut up.”

Rafayel leaned in again, resting his forehead against hers. "Never.”

୨ৎ── . Sylus

Sylus had weaknesses.

Plenty, actually.

He liked to act all tough, like nothing fazed him, but when it came to you? That was a different story. You had too much power over him, and the worst part? You knew it and you used it against him.

Like right now.

You were sitting outside in the schoolyard with him, scrolling through your phone while absentmindedly playing with his fingers. Sylus was definitely not paying attention to his own phone—because how could he, when yous was right there, looking so effortlessly pretty under the afternoon sun?

Then, sighing dramatically, you tilted your head toward him.

“Lover boy,” you hummed, voice laced with teasing affection, “can you buy me a drink?”

Oh, hell.

Sylus was gone.

You could’ve just asked normally. You could’ve commanded him, like you usually did, and he still would’ve gotten up without question. But no—you had to weaponize those two words.

Lover boy.

His brain short-circuited.

He felt it the second his heart stumbled in his chest, the heat creeping up his neck. Sylus fought to keep his cool, but you knew. He could see it in your smug little smile, the way you squeezed his hand just slightly, testing his reaction.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered.

You blinked, all innocent. “Doing what?”

Sylus squinted at you, leaning in closer. “You know what.”

You giggled, and damn it, you were just so cute, it hurt.

“So… does that mean you’ll get me a drink?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head.

Sylus groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “You could ask me to buy the entire vending machine, and I’d probably do it.”

“Good to know.” you grinned.

He sighed in defeat, standing up. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me, lover boy.”

Sylus literally stumbled at that, and you just cackled.

God help him. He was so pathetically in love.

[mageofmadness]

CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong. 

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

[goldfades]

Can we get Joe where he doesn’t Ike anyone touching reader pregnant belly.

this is such a cute idea i hope i did it justice<3

Joe had always been protective. It was just in his nature—something woven into him so deep it was as effortless as breathing. It wasn’t the loud, overbearing kind, though. It was quiet. Steady. The way his hand would always find the small of your back in crowded places, how he’d subtly position himself between you and the street when you walked together. The way he’d give you his jacket before you could even admit you were cold.

But when you told him you were pregnant, something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. A hand lingering on your lower back longer than usual, his eyes scanning the room a little more often when you were out together. But as the weeks went by and your belly started to round out, the protectiveness turned into something else—something sharper.

Joe didn’t just watch out for you. He hovered.

He started driving everywhere, even when you insisted you were fine to take yourself. His texts increased—You good? Need anything? Call me if you do—even if you were just running a quick errand. And when the baby bump became impossible to hide, so did Joe’s growing protective streak.

At first, it was just the small things. The way he’d instinctively step closer when someone got too near. The way his eyes would narrow whenever a stranger so much as glanced in your direction for a second too long.

And then, the belly-touching started.

It was like some unspoken rule of pregnancy—strangers, acquaintances, even friends suddenly felt entitled to reach out and place their hands on you, like your growing stomach was some kind of community property.

Joe was having absolutely none of it.

The first time it happened, you were at the grocery store, scanning the shelves when a sweet-looking older woman caught sight of you and beamed.

“Oh, how far along are you?” she asked, already reaching out before you could answer.

Before her hand even got close, Joe was there.

He didn’t shove or snap—he didn’t have to. His body language alone was enough. He stepped in smoothly, his palm pressing against your stomach possessively, his shoulders squared in a way that made it clear—this was not an open invitation.

“Yeah, we’re good,” he said, voice polite but firm.

The woman blinked, clearly caught off guard, before awkwardly dropping her hand. You had to bite back a smile at how fast Joe had swooped in, like some kind of personal security guard.

And that was only the beginning.

It happened again at dinner with friends, when Ja’Marr reached out with a teasing grin. Joe intercepted so fast, Ja’Marr barely had time to register what happened before he was laughing, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Damn, bro, chill—I wasn’t tryna steal your kid.”

Joe didn’t laugh.

His arm tightened around your waist, fingers flexing slightly like he was grounding himself. You reached down and laced your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

“You know you’re being dramatic, right?” you murmured later that night, curled up next to him in bed.

Joe just huffed, his lips against your shoulder.

“People don’t need to be touching you.”

You turned in his arms, tilting your head to look at him. His jaw was set, but his eyes—the soft, stormy blue you loved—held something deeper.

Something protective. Something almost primal.

And it hit you then.

This wasn’t just about people touching you. This was about him—about his family, his child, his entire world growing inside you.

And if there was one thing Joe Burrow would never do, it was let the world take what was his.

[reignpage]

Husband!Nanami missing you

Usually it was Husband!Nanami leaving for business trips, not you. But for one reason or another, the roles have been reversed and he doesn’t quite know how to feel.

“Bye, sweetheart. Text me when you get there, alright?” He says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Everything you could possibly need for your week-long trip is organised meticulously in your suitcase so you’re all packed and ready to go, thanks to him. 

Giggling, you peck your husband on his lips. “Yes, I will. I’ll text you so often you’re going to get sick of me.”

Husband!Nanami smiles. How could he not?

“That won’t ever happen, sweetheart. You should get going now; you still have to get through security. I love you.”

“I love you more!” You yell out, rushing away with a final wave goodbye. 

Under his breath, he mutters, “I love you most.”

And so that was that.

Husband!Nanami returns to an empty home, already feeling your absence. He knew he’d have a difficult time — he always did. Whenever he was away to Kyoto or Osaka or even further, he would count the days till he gets to come back to you. But now, he’s counting down the days till you get back to him and gosh, time really does move slowly when you’re not having fun.

On the first day, he busies himself with all the things he doesn’t really get to do when you’re home. Things like reading a book (you find him absolutely adorable with his reading glasses and he can barely get through a chapter before you’re snuggling up in his lap and distracting him with kisses), watching the news (you much prefer fiction over cold, harsh reality and he obliges you every time), and taking a nice, long and relaxing bath on his own (he always has wife-shaped bathing buddy occupying the tight space with him).

Husband!Nanami never complains about the fact that most days he has go without the solo activities he used to cherish before being in a relationship with you. Of course not. It wasn’t as if he ever ‘gave up’ or ‘sacrificed’ anything. Things were just different.

But a good different. 

He knew that getting with, proposing and marrying you. And he knows that now. 

Especially when he realises that none of his books from his ‘to be read’ file are very interesting, what with them all being about the same thing — he really ought to branch out into other genres. The news is depressing and all there seems to be these days are bloodshed and destruction — as a sorcerer that’s all he’s ever know, so why would he subject himself to anymore of it at home?. And baths?

Overrated. 

Unless, of course, they’re shared with you; he’d much rather feel your soft, warm flesh against his. 

That sole thought occupies his mind as he spontaneously boards a plane and counts down the hours until he gets to see your face, likely full of surprise but also, hopefully, of acceptance and love. 

Husband!Nanami isn’t ashamed to admit he couldn’t last a day without his wife. He isn’t ashamed to admit that living alone, without you, is his worst nightmare. And he will never be ashamed to declare to the world that he doesn’t even think he exists outside of you. 

Because to your Kento, he is a husband first, and everything else second.

[inkandapex]

tides of change

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : Lando and Y/N’s not so situationship had become the talk of everyone around them. It was clear to everyone but the two of them that their connection was something worth fighting for. The question on everyone’s lips: When will Lando finally stop holding back and risk it all?

Words : 4.1k

Warnings : swearing, mentions of sex, poorly translated french

It was a rainy day in Monaco, the kind of weather that made everything feel a little slower. The usual buzz of the city was muffled by the constant drizzle, and the three friends—Lando, Max, and Charles—found themselves on a paddle court, looking for a way to pass the time during their break.

Sweaty and winded from their last round, the trio stood around, sipping on drinks, exchanging small talk about the upcoming season. Max, ever the competitive one, wiped his brow with a towel, giving Lando a smirk. "I think you might be getting worse, mate."

Charles finally looks up from his phone after being preoccupied for the past few minutes. "Lando, Y/N is here?"

"Yeah, she got in last morning. Why?" Lando nods, still catching his breath from the last game.

Charles grins and pockets his phone. "Alex just texted me—she just found out today. You should invite her to join us on the yacht. It's supposed to be a clear day tomorrow."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Who else is coming?"

"Couple of other friends, Carlos and Rebecca too."

Lando smirks, glancing over at Max. "Max?"

"Nah, mate," Max chimes in, wiping his face with a towel. "Don't think being out at sea would help with Kelly's morning sickness." He laughs lightly, clearly trying to keep the mood light, but there’s a genuine care in his tone.

Lando’s grin softens, and he nods. "Fair enough. I’ll let Y/N know then."

"Speaking of which... what's ugh, going on with you two? Finally asked her out?" Max smirks, leaning back against the wall.

A small smirk crept up on Lando’s face, but he quickly took a swig from his bottle, picking up his racket as if the question never happened. "Are we playing another round or what?"

"Well, that’s a clear no," Charles laughs, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "You idiot, how long has this situationship been a thing for now? Two seasons?"

Lando freezes for a second, then points a finger at Max. "First of all, don’t ever use ‘situationship’ again. Sounds weird coming from you." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And... we’re just friends."

Charles snickers. "Friends who kiss every now and then—"

Max jumps in. "And sleep together."

Lando's eyes widen slightly. "Hey, that’s not—"

"So you haven’t?" Max presses, his grin growing.

Lando bites his lip, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. He glances at Charles, who’s trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, they definitely have," Charles chimes in, his voice teasing.

Lando glares at them, but it’s no use—he can’t help the flush creeping up his neck. "Alright, alright, enough."

"I've had a couple of friends ask me about her, mate." Charles pats Lando’s shoulder before casually walking back to his side of the court. "Come on, one more before we head home."

Lando blinks. "Wha— Which friends?" His grip tightens slightly on his racket, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Charles exchanges a knowing look with Max, the kind that screams look at this idiot, so oblivious. Max just smirks.

"Doesn't matter who" Charles shrugs, stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. "Just thought I’d let you know. Do with the information as you will."

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning slightly. His mind is already racing through the possibilities, but before he can press further, Max serves the ball, forcing him to refocus.

But even as they dive back into the game, the thought lingers.

------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Lando's keys hitting the table broke Y/N's gaze from the screen in front of her. She glanced over to see him standing by the door, bag still slung over his shoulder, hair slightly damp from a mix of sweat and rain.

"How was paddle with Max and Charles?" she asked, shifting her focus back to the movie playing in front of her.

"Good. Max lost, of course." Lando smirked, toeing off his shoes before flopping down beside her. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "Hey, uhm— you busy tomorrow?"

"Mmm, not really. Kinda wanted to walk around and shop for a bit. Why, what's up?"

Lando ran a hand through his damp curls. "Charles is inviting us on his yacht tomorrow with Alex and a couple of their friends. Carlos and Rebecca are coming too, I heard."

Y/N hummed in thought, eyes still on the screen, but Lando barely noticed. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he forced himself to sound casual. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous—he was just inviting his best friend to hang out with their other friends. They all knew each other already.

So why did it feel like something more?

"Sure, yeah, that actually sounds fun. Haven’t seen them in a while," Y/N said, shooting Lando a soft smile.

Relieved, Lando let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He barely had time to react before Y/N’s fingers slid through his damp curls, her touch light and familiar.

"You should shower," she murmured. "You’re gonna get sick."

Lando smirked, tilting his head just enough to press a featherlight kiss to her wrist. "Join me?"

Y/N laughed, gently but firmly pushing his head away. "Dork. We both said no more, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah… I tried," he chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. As he passed, he reached down to poke her cheek, grinning when she swatted at his hand.

It was true—what Charles and Max suspected. They’d kissed. And, yeah, they’d definitely slept together. More than once. But somewhere along the way, between shared hotel rooms, late-night confessions, and stolen moments, they both agreed that this—whatever this was—couldn’t be more. Not now. Not when Lando was constantly on the move, when their friendship was the one thing they both swore they’d never risk.

So they stayed just that—friends.

At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Cabrón! It's been too long! Have you grown taller?" Carlos' voice rang out, loud enough to make nearly everyone aboard the yacht turn their heads.

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he walked over. "You muppet, I saw you last week." He pulled Carlos into a quick hug before stepping back and motioning toward Y/N, who stood just behind him. "Look who I brought."

Carlos' face lit up. "Ahh… mi novia’s novia. Good to see you, Y/N." Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her slightly for dramatic effect.

Before she could fully recover, Charles appeared beside them, grinning as he leaned in to greet her with a cheek kiss. "She's also my girlfriend’s girlfriend," he added, giving Lando a teasing look.

"Y/N is the nation's girlfriend," Carlos announced, laughing as he patted her shoulder. Then, with a wicked smirk, he leaned toward Lando, lowering his voice just enough.

"Except yours."

Lando rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, but the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him. Carlos just smirked wider.

"Too much testosterone. Where are my ladies?" Y/N teased, glancing around the deck in search of her friends.

"Oh, they're inside getting changed," Charles said, nodding toward the doors leading into the yacht.

"Perfect. I’ll see you boys later then." She gave them a small wave before heading off, disappearing through the doors with an easy grace.

Lando’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, something he wasn’t even aware of until he heard the soft chuckles beside him. He turned to find Carlos and Charles exchanging a knowing look before shaking their heads in amusement.

"What now?" Lando sighed, already bracing himself.

"I just don’t get it," Charles said, crossing his arms. "I really don’t."

"Get what?"

Carlos exhaled dramatically, giving Lando a pointed look. "Why you like punishing yourself like this. Like a fucking sadist."

Charles nodded in agreement. "You clearly like each other."

Lando shook his head, sliding his sunglasses on as if they could shield him from the conversation. "Not that simple."

"Oh, but it is," Carlos countered, arms crossed. "It’s not like you haven’t been in a relationship before, so I know for a fact it’s not commitment issues on your end."

Charles tilted his head. "She doesn’t want to?"

"It’s not that." Lando exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It just… doesn’t work. We've tried"

Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Tried what, exactly?"

Lando hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. "Just the whole distance thing. Me being away all the time. And then there’s the hate she’s gonna get when people find out. I can’t do that to her." His voice was quieter now, but firm. "She’s already getting shit just for being friends with me."

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look, their teasing fading into something more serious. For all the jokes, they knew Lando wasn’t just making excuses. But still, Carlos shook his head with a sigh.

"You know, if you ever stop being an idiot, I think she’d be worth it."

Lando huffed a small, almost bitter laugh. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

"If not, I mean, I got friends that are interested," Charles shrugged, all casual, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Lando chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness in his voice. "See, you keep saying that, but I think you're just doing it to provoke me."

Charles smirked but stayed silent.

Carlos, however, turned to him with a knowing look. "Who? Luca?"

Charles' brows lifted in surprise before he gave Carlos an approving nod. "Yeah."

Lando’s expression shifted in an instant. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the way his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck is Luca?"

"Like I said… a friend," Charles smirked, enjoying this way too much.

"Don’t fuck with me right now, Leclerc." Lando’s head snapped around as he scanned the yacht, shoulders growing visibly tense. "He’s here?"

Carlos chuckled, clapping a hand on Lando’s back. "Calm down, cabrón. Y/N is available, no?"

Lando shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. "You two are dicks."

Charles and Carlos only laughed, sharing a look before Carlos added, "Just saying, if you don’t want her to be, maybe do something about it."

-----------------------------------------------------------

The yacht had sailed further into the open ocean, the hours melting away in a blur of sun, salt, and laughter. Everyone had split into their own little group, swimming, chatting, drinking. But as lunchtime rolled around, they all gathered around the spread of food laid out on deck.

Y/N sat at a smaller table in the corner with Rebecca and Alex, the three of them deep in conversation. Lando strolled over, wordlessly setting a small pouch in front of her along with a glass of water.

"Medicine’s in there. Take one, okay?" He gave her head a light pat before turning on his heel and walking off to grab some food for himself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rebecca and Alex exchanged confused looks, both raising an eyebrow as they glanced between Y/N and the small pouch Lando had left behind. Neither of them knew what he meant by "medicine," and the whole exchange seemed a bit mysterious.

Y/N noticed their concerned gazes and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She pulled out a row of antihistamine pills from the pouch, holding them up. "Sometimes shellfish makes my allergies act up. It’s really nothing too serious, but it’s better not to risk it."

Alex’s expression softened in understanding, though she still looked a little taken aback. "Ah, makes sense," she nodded, her voice light "And of course... Lando is on top of it"

Rebecca let's out a soft laugh as she shakes her head "You're just as oblivious as he is you know, it's cute and funny at the same time"

"Guys... come on. We agreed to not talk about this"

Rebecca nods and holds her hands up in surrender "Mhmm alright, we'll let you figure it out on your own"

"What are you girls gossiping about this time huh?" Carlos walks over with Lando and Charles, plates of food and drinks in hand as their took their respective seats around the table

"Nothing you boys need to worry about," Alex smiles.

"Ah, donc rien à voir avec le fait que quelqu'un nie ses vrais sentiments pour quelqu'un, hein ?" Charles tilts his head, looking over at Y/N as he takes a bite of his food (Ah, so it has nothing to do with anyone denying their true feelings for someone, huh?)

"Espèce de bâtard sournois, Alex t'en a parlé ?" Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes flicking between the two of them. (You sneaky bastard, did Alex tell you?)

"Non ! Je jure que je n'ai rien dit !" Alex quickly defended herself. (No! I swear I didn't say anything!)

"S'il vous plaît, c'est tellement évident. Je pense que tout le monde peut le dire rien qu'en vous regardant tous les deux," Charles smirked, making Alex chuckle beside him as she nodded her head in agreement, while the rest of the table fell into conversations of their own. (Please, it's so obvious. I think everyone can tell just by looking at the two of you)

"Il a pété un câble quand je lui ai dit qu’un pote était intéressé par toi. Tu sais que les potes normaux réagissent pas comme ça, hein ?" Charles goes on, raising an eyebrow as he watches Y/N’s reaction. (He freaked out when I told him a friend was interested in you. You know normal friends don't react like that, right?)

Y/N simply shakes her head and continues to eat, it wasn't until Charles continues to egg on his theory

"Il ne comprend pas un mot de ce que je dis, mais regarde ça." Charles straightens up, a mischievous glint in his eyes as if preparing to prove a point. "Tout ce que j’ai à faire, c’est dire le nom de Luca, et ça attire son attention." (He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but look at this.) (All I have to do is say Luca's name, and it gets his attention)

Right on cue, Lando’s head whips around, his conversation forgotten as his ears latch onto the familiar name. Confusion flickers across his face, caught completely off guard by the sudden mention.

"Dickhead" Y/N mutters with a laugh, shaking her head as she stands up, plate in hand, and makes her way toward the buffet table for more food.

Lando is on his feet almost instantly, trailing after her without a second thought. Whatever she and Charles were talking about, he needs to know.

"So, he told you about Luca, huh?" Lando leans against the table, arms crossed as he watches her pick through the food. His voice is casual—too casual.

Y/N sighs, shaking her head. Charles really wasn’t exaggerating. Of course Lando took the bait. "Lan, he was just fucking with you."

His eyes narrow slightly. "So you're not at all interested in this Luca guy?"

She pauses, glancing at him with a teasing smirk. "What if I was?"

Lando blinks at her, completely dumbfounded. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as he tries to process what he just heard. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shrugs, casually placing a piece of food on her plate. "What if I was interested? What’s it to you?" She glances at him, eyes challenging. "Like you said, we’re just friends, remember?"

His stomach twists uncomfortably. That is what he said. But suddenly, he’s not so sure he meant it.

Y/N simply tuts, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she brushes past him. As she does, her fingers trail lightly along his arm, the touch barely there but enough to send a spark straight through him.

"Just something to think about," she murmurs before walking away, leaving Lando standing there—plate forgotten, mind racing, and heart pounding just a little too fast.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lando lounged on a sunbed, sunglasses on, deep in conversation with Carlos when Rebecca’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Looking good, Y/N! That set is gorgeous on you!”

Mid-sentence, Lando sat up slightly, resting on his elbows as his gaze searched for her.

And then he saw her.

Not just in any bikini—no, a papaya one. His colour. He almost swore she wore it just for him.

Lando barely had time to recover from the way Y/N’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine before she sat beside him, all sweet smiles and knowing eyes. He saw right through her. She was playing with him, enjoying the way she had him wrapped around her finger.

And damn, was it working.

Before he could say anything, Charles strolled by, some guy trailing behind him.

“Y/N, this is my friend Luca. He’s been asking non-stop about you. Thought it was time I introduce the two of you.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, fingers twitching against the sunbed. You have got to be kidding me.

Y/N stood to greet Luca, and the guy wasted no time leaning in for a cheek kiss. Normally, Lando wouldn’t care—his friends did it all the time. But this? Some random guy he didn’t know? Absolutely not.

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard such great things,” Luca said with a grin. “I see you around a lot, just… not with the right team.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

Y/N laughed. “Ah, yeah! I’ve seen you with Charles and Alex a few times.”

“So how long are you in Monaco this time? For good, I hope?”

“I wish. This place is amazing, but I have to go back to England next week—work calls. I’ll be back by the end of the month, though.”

Luca smiled. “Then we have some time to go out before you leave?”

Lando sat up fully, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. Was this some kind of sick joke? Asking her out—right in front of him? His blood boiled.

No. Absolutely not.

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “Actually, no, we’re busy. Got plans this week.”

Carlos, instantly catching on, barely held in his laughter—though his girlfriend didn’t bother hiding her amusement, giving him a light slap on the arm.

Y/N turned to Lando, eyebrows raised. “We do?”

“Yep,” he answered smoothly, leaning back like he hadn’t just pulled that excuse out of thin air. “Max and P are coming over to stay with us, remember? Got some activities lined up. Sorry, mate.”

The only problem? Now he actually had to find things to do and start booking these non-existent activities.

Luca frowned slightly. “Oh—well… when you come back from England, then?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N started, “I’ll ask Charles for your—”

“Naaah,” Lando cut in again, shaking his head. “Doesn’t work either, mate. We’re heading to Italy when she gets back.”

Y/N blinked. “We are?”

“Yes. Was supposed to be a surprise. Surprise!” Lando shot her a grin, ignoring the way Carlos was now openly laughing beside him.

Just off to the side, Charles leaned toward Alex, voice low. "S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi le sortir de sa misère." (Please let me put him out of his misery.)

Luca could only laugh, shaking his head as he held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, got it, mate. All yours.”

Lando didn’t bother hiding his smirk, satisfied with the outcome.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, dragging Lando toward a quieter part of the yacht, away from prying eyes. His smug smirk only made her more irritated.

“What the fuck was that, Norris?” she snapped, arms crossed.

Lando barely flinched, still grinning. “What, you don’t wanna go to Italy? Greece more your style? Oh! How about Ibiza—”

She didn’t let him finish, landing a solid punch to his arm.

“Ow!” Lando winced, clutching his arm. “Forgot how strong you are.”

“Stop playing with me. I know there’s no Italy trip.”

“There is!”

“Bullshit.”

He exhaled, dropping the act. “Fine! I just… You can’t go out with him, Y/N.”

Her expression softened for a moment before tilting her head, arms still crossed. “And why’s that?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, avoiding her gaze for a second before finally meeting her eyes.

“That’s so unfair, Lando, and you know it,” Y/N shot back, arms tightening over her chest. “You’ve gone out with other girls, and you didn’t hear shit from me.”

“No—that’s different,” Lando argued, shaking his head.

“Oh, it is different,” she scoffed. “Because I haven’t been sleeping around with other people since what happened between us.”

His eyes widened. “But I haven’t!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit—do you want me to drop names?”

Lando opened his mouth, then shut it just as fast. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Alright, fine.”

“Doesn’t mean I have feelings for them,” he added quickly, voice softer this time.

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Awe, how fucking romantic.”

Lando felt his stomach drop. The teasing, the back-and-forth—it all came to a screeching halt the second Y/N let her emotions slip through.

She sank onto the sofa, fingers threading through her hair, exhaling like she was tired—tired of him, tired of this.

“We can’t keep doing this, Lan,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “This whole ordeal is fucking exhausting. If you really want this, you can have me. But you can’t just want some of it. Take all of it. The good and the bad.”

She finally looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “I can’t stand having just some of you. I need all of you.”

Lando swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs. Because the truth was, she already had all of him. Always had. He just needed to say it.

Lando dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gently finding hers, squeezing them with a tenderness that spoke louder than words ever could.

“Hey… pretty girl, look at me, please?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, her gaze met his. The rawness in his eyes caught her off guard. For the first time in a long while, she saw him again—the guy she fell so deeply in love with, the man she’d been willing to risk everything for.

“You have all of me,” Lando said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I promise… we’ll make it work. I’ll make this work. You deserve the world, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you... if you’d give me another chance.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but a quiet part of her still hesitated. It felt too good to be true. But his words… his honesty? It was enough to break through.

Y/N took a slow breath, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. There was none.

Slowly, she squeezed his hands back. “You better not make me regret this, Lando.”

Lando nodded almost immediately, his eyes lighting up with a joy so pure it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “I promise,” he said, voice full of conviction. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll do things right this time.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her emotions swirling as she processed his words. After a beat, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

Without another word, Lando pulled her into his arms, locking her in a tight embrace. The way he held her felt urgent, like he was afraid of losing her again. They clung to each other as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if nothing mattered but this moment.

“I know we said to take things slow… but I’m dying to kiss you right now,” Lando murmured against her neck, his breath warm and shaky.

The words made Y/N laugh softly, her fingers tracing the side of his jaw as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs gently grazing his skin, before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, a kiss that held all the passion, all the longing they’d kept buried. The world outside disappeared as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss a promise of what was to come.

Lando was the first to pull away, chuckling softly as he did. “We can’t… I don’t think I can control myself if we keep going.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her heart racing from the kiss. She placed one last soft kiss on his cheek before pulling him back into another hug, as if holding him was the only thing that could steady her.

"Greece sounds good..." she muttered quietly, her words almost lost in the moment.

Lando pulled away slightly, brows furrowed as he looked at her, not quite catching what she said. “What was that, baby?”

“Greece,” Y/N repeated with a smile tugging at her lips. “I said Greece sounds good.”

Lando’s face lit up with a grin, the tension in his chest easing as he nodded. “Greece it is. Anything for my girl.”

[lalunanymph]

💭 thinking about . . . . accidental pregnancy with caleb

tw. colonel caleb x fem!reader, suggestive content, angst, accidental pregnancy, a character study on what caleb would do when we get pregnant including his choices and how he navigates the threat of ever, mentions of abortion, wife-basement(ing), possessive caleb, mentions of violence, 3.2k+ words

It shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.

But, Caleb can hardly fault you. 

As he stares at the tracker on his phone, seeing your missed period, he wonders what’s going on in that stubborn mind of yours. 

And, why haven't you reached out to him yet with the news. 

In times like these, he wishes he wasn’t separated from you by the sky; that he was on the ground to bring you into his arms, hold you tight and ease some of his anxiety. As he switches off the dim screen, he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

There’s only one thing left for him to do, and it’s not a pretty decision. 

Resolutely, he books his next trip to Linkon, and this time, he’s not leaving until he makes sure you’ll be with him—forever. 

The whole apartment is quiet as you stare down at the mess of contents in the toilet bowl. 

Images, like flickering mirages, flit through your mind. 

Caleb’s body over yours, the warmth pressing you down into the mattress. The feeling of being completely and utterly possessed by him in the heat of the moment. Kind, purple eyes flashing with unending adoration for you as he held you in the afterglow. The last goodbye was over a month ago when he left you to settle some urgent Fleet business, and you’ve missed him ever since.

Sighing softly, you flush the toilet and stand, feeling the edge of nausea digging right into your consciousness as you stumble back into your bedroom. With a groan, you flop onto the bed, tucking a small pillow right to your belly, holding onto it and pretending that it’s Caleb instead. You frown and resist the urge to call him. Outside, the birds are chirping and a spring breeze blows past the wispy curtains, ruffling your hair. It’s calming, and makes you doze off, the weight of this secret holding you down in fatigue till you don’t notice the bed dipping beside you and fingers in your hair.

When your eyes flutter open, you’re met with pensive purple ones—instantly snapping you awake.

“Caleb—!”

He wraps his arms around you, and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Pipsqueak. I’m home.”

Blearily, you rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “W-when did you get back?” 

“An hour ago.” He frowns. “You forgot to latch your door. Again. Someone might come in and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore, Caleb. I can handle myself,” you fake a bright smile. “Besides, if anyone dares to break into a Hunter’s home, they can catch my guns!” 

“You say that, but give it a few more months and that big ol’ belly will be in the way of you landing a good punch.”

The air leaves your lungs. 

Silence weaves in thick, cold currents, and you don’t know where to look—how to respond to his astute observation. It hits you then: of course, Caleb would know. He knows everything about you. The ins and the outs. What you love, hate, like, adore. He’s a walking encyclopedia of knowledge about you, and did you think you could hide something this momentous from him? 

His palm, large and warm, creeps towards your belly. There’s a hitch in his breath—half pain, half wonder. 

“... how long have you been keeping this under wraps, baby?” 

Hearing your favorite nickname fall from his lips in such a tender cadence springs tears into your eyes. For days you wrestled with the conundrum of reaching out to him or staying mute. The tender breasts, aching belly, sleepless nights. You would endure it all if it meant not letting Caleb worry. He already had too much on his plate—he didn’t need another battle to fight because of you.

“A…” you trail off, heaving in a deep sigh. “A few days…”

Caleb makes the same consternated sound again. “Baby, you know I would’ve immediately come to you if I knew.”

You swallow and stare down at your pink, floral sheets. “I—I didn’t know how to approach this… how you would react—”

He senses the impending sorrow lining your throat and eyes, and pulls you firmly against his chest. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry… I’m not gonna leave you like this, baby. You know me. Through thick and thin, right? I’m here for you.”

Caleb smoothes his hand down your hair, patting your head and back gently. Despite the confidence he displays, he can’t help the shard of worry piercing his chest. It elevates his heartbeat, and he has to take a few, deep steady breaths to keep his neurons stable. 

The whole ballgame has changed. This doesn’t just concern him and you anymore, but another soul—one he can’t bear to put in harm's way because of his unfortunate circumstances.

His heart is heavy, and the words feel like lead in his mouth, but he has to ask you this. Ask you for a possibility to protect yourself first.

“Do you… want it?” 

The elephant in the room lays as a speck deep in your body. You awkwardly press your hand to your belly and lower your gaze, conflict brewing like heavy tar in your chest. 

“I… I don’t know—”

He seizes on this opportunity to change your mind. “Pipsqueak… you know I love you, right?” 

You nod. He presses on. “And, you know I want the best for you, right?”

Again, you nod. 

“What do you think… about… scheduling an appointment to remove it?” 

Your heart stops beating in your chest. A breath, shaky and vulnerable, trembles from your lips and you look up at him as if he’s gone mad. 

“What? Wh-why would you say that?” 

It’s like a flip has been switched. Caleb’s no longer the loving, understanding man who swept in to save you at the last moment. 

His eyes are hard. Unyielding. 

“Pipsqueak, you don’t get it, do you?” He grabs your wrist, and you fight back to no avail. Frustration seeps into his tone, and he shakes you slightly like you’re an errant, nonsensical child. 

“This isn’t just me and you anymore. We have a baby—an innocent soul to protect. We can’t—” Swallowing hard, he shakes his head, as if to dislodge a dangerous thought. “I can’t protect the two of you at once.” 

The silence after his admission rings loudly, and he sucks in a ragged breath. 

“Please,” he tries to reason with you, those purple eyes practically dilating with fear. “Please, Pipsqueak. I’ve never asked you for something before—you know me. But, I can’t—” he falters, “—I can’t lose you if I’m not too careful. I already have an entire organization on my ass and—” 

It’s like he can’t physically force the words to come out of him. Like he can’t admit his weaknesses. 

Caleb’s lower lip trembles and he clenches his jaw, trying to control his surging emotions. He tries again, this time in a steadier voice. “I can’t lose you. I can’t. Don’t make me—don’t make me choose between you or this baby. I will always choose you.”

You have no idea whether it’s the hormones or the sheer horror of this lose-lose situation that gets to you. Tears sting your eyes, and you have to look away from him, feeling sick to your gut. 

The truth is, while weren’t exactly the most spiritual or motherly person around, something about the arrival of this baby—on the cusp of spring, no less—makes you believe this little miracle was meant to come into your life. 

How could Caleb want to take that away? 

Before you can think it through, you shake your head. No, your tears and stubborn set of your pout tells him without words. No—I want this baby. 

His eyes harden. The grip on your wrist tightens. “Love, please,” he almost hisses, brows knitted together, mouth twisting into the shadow of a snarl. “Listen to me—you’re thinking with your heart and not your head—”

“No!” You yell, yanking your hand away from his grasp. Rubbing the contused flesh, fresh tears spring down your cheeks, further exacerbating his guilt. 

He can’t take the sight of you crying and stands up from the bed, pacing the room. You’ve never seen Caleb look this stressed out in your life, not even when he almost flunk his basketball tryouts because of a food poisoning mishap. While you rub your eyes, he’s running a hand through his dark locks, pinching his temples and shooting his gaze skyward as if some higher being would help him out. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in this stalemate, he relents.

“Love…” He sits on the edge of the bed, and you don’t fight him when he takes your hand. His expression is weary, speaking volumes of this difficult position you’ve put him in. But, you can’t be the one to compromise this time—not on something this big. 

Irrational as it is, you want this baby. You want this proof of love that is a piece of you and Caleb. 

And, you want it with him. 

Intertwining your fingers together, he squeezes your palm and sighs heavily. “If we are to do this, I have a few rules you need to follow—ah bub bub bub. Let me finish.” Grabbing your chin and tipping your head up so you can face him, Caleb’s expression is stern, brokering no room for protests. 

“Linkon isn’t safe—whatever forces that want me in Skyhaven also have their sticky hands here,” he tightens his grip. “The safest place you have is with me, princess. Always by my side. Do you understand me? Nod if you do.”

Slowly, you bob your head once.

“Good,” the look in his purple irises is devastating—a man on the verge of risking everything he loves. 

“Do you want to hear the rules now?” 

His voice is low. Gravelly. 

Fear, pure and unadulterated, floods through you as you have no choice but to nod again. 

He takes a deep breath, and the two of you stand at a precipice of the biggest leap of faith in your lives. There’s no turning back now; not when you’ve made this choice. 

The rules are as such—

You wake up in the middle of a large, king-sized bed to the slow rise of an artificial dawn. 

The room’s modulated temperature begins to warm, and your Circadian rhythm kickstarts along with the preset smart lights and thermostat modes. Recycled air flows through the basement’s vents, and you sit up, already feeling the first stirrings of nausea encroaching your consciousness. 

You grumble and turn to the side, finding his blanket folded neatly, not a trace of Caleb to be found besides your aching body and the slight mess still staining the sheets from last night’s activities. You wrinkle your nose and lug yourself up heavily, stripping the duvet and ambling over to the washing machine, stuffing it full with the floral linen he had let you choose for this studio apartment.

If you forget about the fact that you’re currently housed in a bunker beneath his Skyhaven home that’s fortified with passcodes, equipped with CCTVs and only accessible to him, you would think the way he modeled it to look exactly like your dream apartment would be sweet. 

Sighing, your hand drifts over to your belly, feeling the smooth, slightly misshapen dome dimpling under your touch. 

Through layers of skin, sinew, muscle and fat, lies a little boy you can’t wait to meet in a few months time—Caleb’s son, snugly protected and still asleep, judging by the lack of kicks.

A sudden beep stirs you from your thoughts, and you turn to find the doors whirring open. 

Speak of the man himself, and he shall appear. Caleb shoots you a warm smile, his arms heavy with bags of groceries. A layer of drizzle clings to the ends of his hair, and he shakes his head slightly, dislodging the dew drops. Without thinking, you step forward, and smooth your thumb over the raindrop right under his eye. 

The cool water immediately evaporates at your touch, but you bring it to your cheek, as if you could mimic the droplets falling from the sky onto your skin. 

It isn’t hard for Caleb to sense the longing in your actions. He puts the groceries down and takes you into his arms, the curve of your softening belly pressed tightly against his hard planes.

“Just a few more weeks, okay?” He hums. He had promised that once you hit the second trimester, he would move you to another secluded spot, but this time, you would be afforded more freedom and movement to raise Oliver. 

Pictures of a house in the middle of an island free from Protofield fluctuations fill your mind, and you sincerely believe Caleb’s done the impossible—he’s actually found you two a safe haven away from Skyhaven. 

The hours pass and soon, night falls, and the artificial lights begin to dim. Since setting up this emergency bunker for you, Caleb has sorely neglected his own bedroom and home above ground, preferring to sleep with you in this makeshift apartment. He holds you close, breath stirring the loose ends of your hair, and gently traces a pattern on your bare back.

“Pips,” he hesitates, “Can I ask you something?”

You blink your sleepy eyes—truly, pregnancy has rendered you almost physically useless—and nod. 

Caleb takes a moment to construct the question in his mind, and when he does, he gauges your reaction carefully. The last thing he wants is to upset his pregnant lover.

“Why do… Why do you want this baby so badly?” He backtracks, humming and hawing. “What I mean is—even when we were kids, you let me assume most of the responsibilities when we adopted that stray cat, and you told me that you hated dolls because you couldn’t be bothered to brush their hair when it got tangled… so what changed?”

The soft whir from the AC fills in the silence, and you take a moment to answer him.

“It’s cause… I thought I would never get a—“ you break off and scowl. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“Now, hold on,” he frowns playfully. “We always agreed to never keep anything from each other no matter how silly. So, spill it. What’s brewin’ in that noggin of yours?”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to let it go until he has an answer, and pout petulantly. “I just… wanted a family of my own, okay?” You exhale the confession like a burst of wind desperate to escape the room. “I thought that this baby would, well, be a new start.” Clutching the sheets, it slowly starts to sink in how stubborn and reckless this decision of yours was, and that Caleb is only complying to it because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Even if he shares the same thoughts, Caleb doesn’t voice them out.

“You want a home,” he gulps. “With me?”

Is it that hard to believe? Caleb looks like you’ve just told him unicorns exist. The doubt lingering in his expression nearly makes you grin, but you prefer to roll your eyes, instead.

“Yeah… is that so wrong?”

His answer is immediate. “No—uhh,” he tightens his grip around your waist and you can tell he’s itching to crack a big ol’ grin. “I’d like that. Love that, in fact. Yeah—family. You and me. Family.”

But, this happiness is not made to last and a house built on cards will eventually come crashing down.

It’s a random Wednesday night and Caleb’s caught up with some last minute Fleet work that needs his attention. After he’s done signing off a new agreement, he gets up from his chair and heads on home, picking up some takeout he already preordered a few hours ago and a bouquet of blush pink roses for you.

He thinks nothing of the quietness in his home when he arrives, and makes his way down to the basement. 

The first thing that hits him is a cool draft of air. Caleb tenses and his eyes widen. The stairwell doesn’t look different, and there’s no trace of an intruder, but a draft like this isn’t supposed to exist… unless—

He sprints down the staircase and his heart sinks right into his boots when he finds the password-encoded door hanging wide open. The keypad locking you behind safe, steel doors, sparks and beeps pathetically, the evidence of gunshot disabling it apparent once he smells the smoke and sees a bullet shell on the ground.

Caleb rushes in, his Skybreaker gun at the ready, only to be greeted by the foul stench of Viper standing in the middle of the living room. Frantically, he looks around and spots you in a corner, terrified and unmoving, your wide eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder.

The modified man glances at Caleb and snickers vilely. “I sssssee that congratulationsssss are in order.” Viper darts his snake-like gaze to your trembling form huddled behind the sofa. “Ssssso thisss isss where you have hidden yourself from the Professsssor. He missssssed you, Mr. Overprotective.” Caleb swears the room tints red. Without another second to spare, gravity lunges right at Viper to knock him off his feet. 

The crunch of gears and grinding of bolts shoots through the air like a miasma of destruction, and you squeeze your eyes and ears shut, turning away from the massacre taking place in front of you. Within a few, short seconds, the man standing before you is a mess of parts, his unseeing eyes staring listlessly into the air. 

Caleb approaches you and sinks to his knees, gathering you into his arms. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands. “Did he hurt you anywhere?”

You force your numb lips to move, shaking your head. “N-no. I’m fine. He just—just took me off guard.”

There’s no time to lose. In a few hours, Caleb’s helped you pack, the plan to move you to safety expedited by a few weeks. It’s not an ideal situation, but he would rather you sleep surrounded by boxes for a few days than to be caught up in the mess Ever had embroiled him in—a mess that would have devastating consequences for you. 

As he loads the car with some quickly packed bags, he tells you to sit in the passenger seat and not make a sound. His jaw is clenched, veins popping from his temple. The second he gets into the car with you, Caleb floors it and speeds off.

Tentatively, you reach out to take his hand, and to your surprise, he intertwines your fingers together, holding your hand tightly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he manages to choke out, the fear and anxiety making his heartbeat reach dangerous zones. Caleb forces himself to suck in a few deep, sharp breaths. You soothe him by rubbing his shoulder, shaking your head.

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Nothing happened. I was just shocked that Viper was standing there. I… but he didn’t hurt me. He just told me he wanted to wait for you to come home.”

Somehow, that’s worse.  Caleb doesn’t know what the Professor has up his sleeve, but he sure as hell has little doubts that it isn’t anything pretty. And, now that someone knows about you and your condition… Caleb’s light violet eyes harden. 

There is absolutely no way in hell they were going to get you. 

He would rather lose his other arm than risk you or the baby.

Family. It’s what he’s sworn to protect—from the beginning all the way to the bitter end. 

On your little island away from the entire world, the sun shines down in honeyed rays, highlighting your swollen belly. 

You can’t believe that in a few weeks time, you’ll get to see Oliver right in the flesh, hold him in your arms and kiss his little head. Caleb’s been more of a nervous wreck than you. While you’ve been doing your deep breathing exercises and bouncing on your yoga ball to stimulate contractions, your lover is quietly seeking discreet methods to help you with the inevitable home birth. 

Though he hides his nerves behind a calm, stoic facade, you know him all too well. Caleb’s been going for more runs lately, sometimes starting at the early hours of the morning. When he comes home, he showers, changes and slips into bed next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and, tentatively, starts to stroke your belly.

He’s definitely not like other excited fathers-to-be. 

Caleb doesn’t gush about his son, nor does he commit those stupid romcom acts of kneeling at your feet and pressing kisses to the domed flesh of your stomach. He definitely doesn’t get teary-eyed or ecstatic when he paints the nursery with you.

It’s more like a dull, hum of mundanity. Like nothing could ever phase him. 

And, a part of you thinks… Does he hate the baby?

If you weren’t secretly awake right now, you might’ve thought so. The night is dark and filled with flashing thunder. He still thinks you’re fast asleep. 

Caleb’s head is on your chest, and he gently caresses the bump, the soothing motion making Oliver flutter deep in your womb.

“Hey, little guy,” his soft voice pierces the lull, and you feel Oliver responding, turning at the sound of his father’s voice. “Whoops—looks like you’re awake, huh…?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath.

“Look, between you and me, Oli, I can’t think of a reason why I should want you—” Your heart hurts at his admittance. “—but, I love your mom, and by some miracle, she loves a sucker like me, too.” Another deep breath, this time, a little more shaky. 

“I hope you know, I…” a soft, hitched sob. “I just—I just really want you to be safe.” 

Caleb shudders and you feel him wipe his eyes with the edge of his shirt. You wait for him to say more, but he falls silent. His breathing grows deeper, and you realize he’s fallen asleep.

You never speak to him about that vulnerable moment, and he doesn’t share what’s really burdening his heart. 

Caleb may not say it, but you can see in his actions how much he truly loves Oli. 

Nutritious meals all prepared by him, baby clothes sourced from a local vendor, more cams and CCTVs set up around the remote estate, so far away from any form of civilization. It feels like you’re in your own little bubble, away from the world. 

As you make the final touches in the nursery before your scheduled due date, you smile at the rocking chair he bought from an antique store. It’s an old thing—barely used. But, you love how it adds a touch of rustic care to the cozy space. Folding some baby clothes, you notice Caleb holding a box in his hand, moving it to the crib. 

“What’s that?” 

For the first time since he found out about this pregnancy, Caleb looks… excited? 

“Check this out, Pips,” he pulls out a crib mobile, begins to assemble it. Dangling from the arch, you see tiny acrylic planes and stars, the sight making your chest squeeze.

“Are those—?” 

“Plane mobiles,” his chest puffs out with pride. “Yep,” he pops the ‘p’. “I found them online and had them delivered to the mainland. Whatcha think? Sweet, huh?”

You walk over to him and take his hand. “It’s so adorable.” 

He squeezes your fingers, this moment feeling bigger than the two of you. “Now, he can dream sweetly about little paper planes.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, seeing the first stirrings of love and anticipation for the baby on Caleb’s glowing expression. He finally looks happy. 

“Now, he can dream of paper planes.” 

Giving birth has got to be one of the top ten hardest physical things you’ve done in your life.

But, with Caleb by your side, it moves like a breeze. He had spent months preparing for this moment. Watching videos, simulating the birth, getting used to seeing blood—everything he did was so he could be prepared to help you. 

His hands are warm, his voice a low, murmur of support, helping you through with the water birth. You cry when you feel him bundle up Oliver in a soft blanket, and take his hand after he cuts the cord that finally severs you and the baby apart—your living, breathing proof of love finally in your arms. 

Later that night, as you’re resting in the bedroom, you hear Caleb get up from his spot next to you. 

The space has been cleaned and sterilized. While he handled the birth all on his own, Caleb did have some help from Zayne, who gave him tips on how to create the safest, cleanest environment for both mother and baby. In the middle of this lonesome estate facing the seas, your eyes follow your lover as he picks Oliver up from his crib, the tiny newborn making a soft noise, almost like a loving coo. 

Again, he doesn’t know that you’re awake. 

“You’re such a lil’ miracle, ya know that?” Caleb’s voice, soft and fringed with exhaustion, reaches back to you on the bed. “Shucks,” he whispers under his breath. “You’re so adorable.” 

He’s right. Though only a few hours old, Oliver has your nose and his eyes. Sparse and downy, his hair is dark just like his father’s.

You hear him place a soft kiss onto the baby’s head. 

“I… I can’t believe you’re here. You’re finally here.”

Caleb’s voice is as familiar to you as your own heartbeat—voracious, excited, raised, angry, filled with warmth, lowered by an octave when he was in you, you’ve heard them all… but you have never heard him speak so tenderly to someone like this before.

“Crap, swore I wouldn’t cry…” 

You hear him sniffle, and your heart tugs, squeezing with all the love you hold for him. 

“Listen… I just wanna say I’m sorry if I sometimes can’t be the man you need me to be. It’s… complicated. Dangerous. I might not act like me, but I want you to know I’ll always love you, and protect you.” 

You feel his remorse echo sincerely. 

“No matter what, I’ll love you and your mom. Always. All my life. I…” he swallows. “Never had a dad. Or, a mom. I only had your mom, lil’ guy. And she’s the best person I’ve ever met in my life. You’re gonna love her as much as I do—maybe even more.”

He gently bounces Oliver in his arms. 

“And, one day when you grow up, I hope you can protect her. Take care of her when your old man isn’t around—crap. I am your old man, huh? Your pa…” 

You turn over soundlessly, and admire the build of his broad back cradling the tiny, sleeping bundle in his arms. Though you feel guilty at eavesdropping, a part of you is glad you could witness this—see the love he has for Oliver finally spilling over. Maybe you’ve known it all along… he did love your son. Caleb has always wanted this baby. 

It’s just he couldn’t admit it because he didn’t want to let it be real. He didn’t want to put his family in danger.

“I know it’s too soon, but I’ll explain to you and your mom. One day. About everything,” his whispers stir the exhaustion in you, and without meaning to, you start to doze off, almost missing the last words he says.

“About my arm… my world… how your mom and I grew up… I’d do anything to make sure you’re both safe and free—”

Caleb pauses as he hears your soft snores. He turns back, admiring your sleeping figure in the dim moonlight.

“Heh. She’s out cold.”

He turns back to the sweet, little tot also fast asleep in his arms and places a lingering kiss on the baby’s forehead.

“Sleep tight, Oli. You’re safe with us,” Caleb’s expression softens for his son, this tiny human he created out of love.

“Dream of paper planes tonight for me.”

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