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pome-seed · 2 days ago

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The Soldier's Keeper ★ 35

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Repealing the Sokovia Accords becomes the teams only focus, once settled in Wakanda. But for you and Bucky, all you can see is each other, and fixing what Hydra left behind.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence. Flashback to Winter Soldier Days. Mention of Surgery and the brain. Legal and Technical Talk.

Authors Note: I did so much research into legal stuff and medical stuff for this one. My brain is much. Love ya'll. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Old hinges groan under the weight of steel doors. Steve, Bucky, and Tony, cautiously enter the dimly lit hallway. The air was stale, tasting of dust and time.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony leads the three, hand raised.

“How many?” Steve creeps behind his shield.

Tony squinted, scanning the large chasm. “Three,” He took a steadying breath.

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw fluttered as he stepped into the lab, memories flooding his system. Suspended in cryopods across the far wall were three bodies. Three of the chambers still crackled with ice, the doors wide open. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the bodies still within.

Unlike what he’d been expecting, they were aged- withered and peeling. Barely flesh on bone, with ice dusting their skulls. He swallowed hard, steeling his focus in the moment.

But it was hard. In a place with so many memories.

In a pace, haunted with the ghost of his past. A place soaked in blood. He forced himself to turn away from the chair in the center, where he once spent so many agonizing hours.

“47 and 56, step forward.” A man in the corner of the cold bunker training room shouted.

Two agents clad in black walked into the center of the room, their gazes steadied on Bucky.

Bucky, muzzled and barely breathing, stood in wait. It was often that he was used as a sort of training milestone for agents of Hydra.

Beat the Winter Soldier, prove yourself as an elite.

Hold your own, prove yourself as worthy for improvement.

It was how the original five other Winter Soldiers were chosen. They were the only ones who lasted more than a few seconds.

So Bucky stood there, panting as blood from his cracked nose filled his mask. Trembling with adrenaline as he flattened out another soldier on the concrete. He’d lost count of how many came before him. He just knew he had to fight. He had to win. He had to appease his handler.

Winning, for the other soldiers, was a true victory. But for Bucky, it meant that an unenhanced soldier got the best of him. That meant punishment. That meant pain.

That meant they had to improve their favorite weapon.

“What the hell?”

Tony’s voice snapped Bucky back into the present. He’d lost himself to memories again, like a child slipping under a tidal wave. Bucky shook himself, trying to focus.

Tony grimaced, walking up to the corpses behind glass. “I thought-

“If it's any better, they died in their sleep.” A distorted voice crackled through an aged speaker. “It seems even the enhanced aren't immune to death.”

Bucky adjusted his grip on his rifle, his soured expression flickering to Steve. It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. The wilted bodies, the deterioration. It was the disease. The degeneration Hydra was oh so worried about. It had snuck in in the silence of the night, and destroyed bodies pumped full of power.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel his cheeks sour at the sight of the corpses. It could have been him. It should have been him. And without you, it would have been.

“I am grateful to each of them, though. They brought you here.” A small light between the tubes flicked on, exposing Zemo behind a small glass window. Steve shot his shield towards the pane, and it snapped back without a crack.

“Please, Captain. The soviets build this chamber to withstand the launch blasts of UR-100 rockets,” the man said, almost with a smug smile.

“I’m bettin’ I could beat that,” Tony remarked, tracking the heat signatures through the walls.

“Oh I’m sure you could Mr. Stark, given time. Time that you don’t have.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve grit, marching up to the window.

“I’ve thought about nothing else for over a year.” The man whispered, staring up at Steve.

Something wasn’t right. Where were the other three soldiers? Bucky zoned out of the psychological jump rope going on around him. He scanned the room, finally getting a good look at everything.

He’d been there many times. He spent decades asleep inside those very chambers. But each time he was dragged into that chair, nothing else mattered but the pain. Nothing but waiting, praying, begging for it to stop. So he never before got a good look at the place.

It was haunting.

It was abandoned. A dead society once walked those very halls, planning and plotting. But now it was just a structure of bones and souls, lost to the world.

“...I lost everyone…And so will you.” The conversation floated back to Bucky now, reeling in his attention. The man turned back to the microphone, his eyes locked onto Steve’s. “Солдаты, в атаку.”

Soldiers, attack.

A cold, humming silence breaks as a reinforced steel door blows inward in a fiery eruption. Smoke coils through the room as three soldiers in familiar uniforms rise from the shadows.

The larger of the three charged forward like a tank. Steve braced himself and blocked the hit with his shield. The two grappled in a test of strength. Sparks burst as Steve slid backward but quickly countered with a shield bash to the soldier’s jaw.

The second soldier, a man, moved like smoke. He slid forward, swinging for Bucky’s skull. Bucky blocked with his rifle and countered with clean, controlled strikes. The man twisted behind him, landed, then yanked a pipe clean off the wall. Bucky turned, squeezing the trigger of his rifle. Shots sparked off the wall, but before a bullet could land, the man knocked the rifle free with the pipe.

When he went to swing again, Bucky spun and countered just in time, sending both tumbling over a control panel. Splayed out on the cold cement floor, crossing his arms over his face to block scattered blows, Bucky felt sickening nostalgia.

Steve and Bucky supported each other's wounded weight as they dragged themselves towards T’Challa’s ship. To their shock, when they arose from the building, triumphant in their battle against the sleeper agents, they found the Wakandan king waiting outside with a restrained Zemo.

He’d followed them there, for Bucky.

Steve personally sighed in relief as he realized T’Challa had the right man in chains.

Tony, still suited up, spoke breathlessly with the man dressed in black. By the time Steve and Bucky dragged themselves to the ship, a deal had already been made.

“Chins up, boys, we’re going on a trip.” Tony’s steel mask slid shut.

Bucky lowered his head, his dark hair sticking to the blood on his face.

When you first stepped foot off the jet into Wakanda, you were in slack jawed awe.

You never in your wildest dreams thought you would see Wakanda. And until hours ago, you were sure it would never happen. Until, on the flight back to New York, Natasha got a call from Tony.

When she said his name, you lept from your seat, straining your ears to listen in. You couldn’t catch a word. But from the shift in Natasha’s expression, you knew something was happening. Or had already happened.

“What is it?” Your words fell of deaf ears.

“Tony, you know they’re gonna want you back for a briefing-” Nat’s eyes narrowed. She made a huffed sound as she listened, and then something relaxed washed over her expression. She shook her head with exasperation and hung up.

“Natasha- what’s happening?” You begged, gripping the edge of your seat.

“I need to talk to the pilot,” she rose from her seat. “Looks like we’re meeting the boys in Wakanda.”

So now, there you stood, frozen and gaping at the beauty flying past you. Buildings stretched to the sky, sparkling like crystals. Murals painted in the colors of the sun and earth spread out in the city behind you. Birds fluttered past, singing praise.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, stumbling down the ramp.

“Jesus,” Natasha muttered, walking past you. With a little more focus, the red head caught sight of the people waiting ahead. “Y/n, come on.”

You blinked out of your daze and found three tall women with shaved heads waiting for you. You gulped and followed quickly after Natasha. One of the women nodded their head at Natasha. And confirmed your names.

“Follow, please.” The woman in the center said, her expression leveled.

Natasha sent you a look, her brows lifting in awe. You suppressed a nervous smile.

The journey to the medical bay was long. Though maybe that was just because you spent every step gawking at what surrounded you. The vibranium infused soil pulsed beneath your feet, wrought with life and beauty.

The sleek halls you descended through were glowing with light, smooth and clean. Their lab was a whole different story too. One glance at the passing technology showed how advanced they were. Beyond words and theories.

The tall woman led you through the halls and bustling lab. Doctors in lab coats spoke in hushed voices as they fluttered around the room.

Your searching gaze found Tony, who was getting his shoulder examined. Your heart jumped in your chest. Across from Tony, sitting on an examination table, was Bucky.

Like he could sense you, his head shot up, and his eyes met yours. You breathed a sigh of relief, like having him in your sights lifted a weight from your chest. You staggered over to him quickly, zeroing in on the busted flesh and scabbed blood on his nose and cheek. “Are you okay?”

His tight posture relaxed as you stepped between his spread knees, your shaking hands hovering over his face. He looked up at you from beneath his dark lashes. “I’ll live.”

You frowned, ghosting your fingers over his previously broken nose. They must have reset it before you arrived. You were sure it was already healing. But you hated the thought of him in pain. “What happened?”

“A crazy douche, that’s what.” Tony groaned from behind you. You threw him a fond roll of your eyes before focusing back on Bucky.

Bucky nodded his head with a light smile. “He’s not far off.” He blinked up at you. His warm hand slid around your wrist and pulled it from where it hung in the air by his cheek. “I’m fine.” He whispered.

“Yeah?”

He nodded slowly.

You stared at him for a moment, silent. He looked at you with a sense of awe, like he was still trying to map out your features. Like he didn’t think he would ever get to see you this close again.

“You didn’t think you were making it back, did you?” You asked him, melancholy twisting your gut. He avoided your gaze, his fingers twitching around your wrist. You knew you were right. He thought he was marching into his old den of horrors, facing five super soldiers trained in the same way he was, while he was already not functioning at 100%.

He didn’t think he was making it home.

But he did.

To you.

You tugged your wrist free from his grip and laced your fingers together. Bucky stiffened, glancing up at you. “I’m glad you did.” You whispered.

He visibly swallowed, his thumb twitching against your knuckles. He huffed and yanked you close, his arm sliding around your waist. You met him halfway, cradling him in a hug.

It felt good to hold him, knowing danger wasn’t immediately looming around the corner. It felt good to feel him sigh shakily against your neck and drop his head onto your shoulder.

You knew you weren’t alone. You were aware there were prying eyes, and a world in chaos outside. But for a moment, you just wanted to cling to him.

You raked your nails through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He shivered, almost purring beneath your touch.

You didn’t know what this was, what it meant. You didn’t understand the bond that tied you to Bucky. But you didn’t feel the need to question it. You didn’t care.

You just knew you wanted to keep him close, safe, and loved.

“So what happens now?” You whispered into Bucky’s hair. He shook his head into your neck, his arms curling tighter around your back.

“I don’t know.” He huffed.

“What happens,” Tony spoke up again, drawing your attention. “Is your two,” he pointed at Bucky and Steve, “Stay here, while we fix this.”

Bucky lifted his head, his lips pulling into a frown.

“And how's that?” Steve crossed his tired arms.

“We try to get the accords repealed, for one.” Natasha spoke up, leaning back against Tony’s examination table. “We need to put together our case. Go back as far as we can, use New York and Siberia to explain why the accords won’t work. Until we get that done, you two are fugitives.” She looked between Bucky and Steve.

You withdrew your arms from around Bucky, your frown tugging deeper as you listened. Bucky’s hands slid back to rest on your waist. You didn’t comment on it. “I’ll be honest- there was a lot you guys were doing wrong. But that also just means there's a lot you can work on to use in your favor.”

Tony made a face. “Okay- you’ve been under a rock for two years, where did that come from-” he wiggled a finger at you.

“I had access to the internet for one day and even that was enough to be sure that you guys have a lot to make up for,” You lifted a brow, trying not to smile at Tony’s eye roll.

He waved his hand dismissively at you. “Whatever.” He looked back at Steve. They shared a short look. Tony swallowed guiltily and sighed. “We’ll fix this.”

“You need to focus on getting our team out of their cages.” Steve frowned. Tony nodded, his gaze shifting to the side.

“I’ll bring them home.”

The bombing in Vienna, as tragic as it was, proved to be the best defence against the Accords. As it turned out, a repeal wasn’t exactly necessary yet, considering the explosion and death of the king of Wakanda meant the signing had never fully undergone.

All proceedings following the bombing were following the guidelines of the accords since the situation was deemed emergency circumstances.

But the Accords were never officially, completely signed.

Which made things just slightly easier in the Avengers case.

So, while you were stuck in Wakanda, what was left of the Avengers worked on presenting a unified proposal to the UN. The first step, as shocking as it was, was public transparency. A more proactive PR campaign was created to unify the Avengers, as well as humanize them to the public.

It was also helpful in the matters of bringing reason to the catastrophes that were left behind by the Avengers. As hard as it was, it was necessary to make the point known; without the Avengers, New York, and the entire rest of the world, for that matter, may not have had any survivors left behind, after the wormhole.

Without the Avengers, the helicarriers that crashed into Washington D.C wouldn’t have just been rubble and fire. It would have been billions of bodies dropped and left to rot for a supremacist regime's agenda.

Without the Avengers, Lagos wouldn’t have just been a corner of a building. It would have been a biological weapon, a disease, spreading through the cities, killing hundreds.

And following highlighting their biggest wins and losses, they suggested a new program under the Avengers; one of recovery. Under the new program, large-scale, coordinated disaster relief teams - both human and robotic - would be assigned to the affected city. This entailed a fusion of military logistics, urban redevelopment, and trauma care.

There were essentially three main phases.

Immediate response. Safety and containment; Search and rescue, followed by structure safety teams assessing compromised buildings and zones. Medical triage, with specialized staff trained for foreign metal wounds and radiation exposure. As well as drones and portable towers to restore basic communication and electricity.

Recovery and cleanup. Robotic demolition teams sent to safely dismantle debris. Temporary shelters and rations.

Long term rehabilitation. Stark foundation grants to rebuild homes.

With the most public of their flaws laid out, their proposal also highlighted the internal workings of the Avengers. There would be an internal board, a code of conduct, and public transparency protocols laid in place.

By showing the public that they were going to begin seriously self regulating, it lessened the threat of external regulation.

As the public campaign hit the news, there were several new questions raised by the public about the accords.

For one, the news of the incarceration of world heroes like Clint Barton and Sam Wilson brought public backlash. For one, the imprisonment without trial. It brought legal challenges regarding human rights.

Many recognized the Avengers as heroes sacrificing themselves for the world, and strictly regulating them may be counterproductive. The reason they were able to save so many lives in the past, rooted from the fact that they are enhanced, and they do act fast, too fast to submit a legal mission request.

And since the past missions and cases the Avengers were involved in had been so closely spoken about now, it was clear that if another disastrous threat was raised against the earth, bureaucratic delay may prove catastrophic.

As these conversations were brought up, the Sokovia Accords began to prove ineffective, divisive, and ethically problematic.

That of course didn’t disprove the possible need for regulation when it came to the Avengers. But, as the public fought back on the accords, that conversation was pushed to the sidelines until the Avengers were released from their cells.

The termination of the Sokovia Accords was a fight that would prove to take time. And while that battle was being taken on, you stayed in Wakanda, with Bucky and Steve.

It was a new peace you weren’t used to. One that you were scared to accept. But the Wakandans were kind, and did everything in their power to accommodate you three.

The one thing you were most thankful to them for was their ability to help Bucky.

Wakandan technology was far more advanced than you could ever dream. As a doctor, you felt like you were stepping into your own wet dream. They had moved past the need for something as advanced as a basic computer in the lab. Their screens acted more like holograms and webbed like electric galaxies.

You couldn’t help but drool at the magnificent mapping of Bucky’s nerves and physiological makeup as it glowed before you. Bucky, who laid out on a cushioned table in the lab, bit back a fond snicker as he watched you talk with Shuri.

The first step of helping Bucky was explaining what bits of his medical history you could. Shuri gave you access to a tablet to allow you to write out and demonstrate everything you’d done to him when you were in captivity.

Your serum, as nervous as you were about it, seemed to be working. Since those first initial doses back in that prison, he hadn’t experienced any symptoms of muscular degeneration.

As you sat there on the edge of Bucky’s examination table, he told you about the bodies he found in Siberia. He told you about the sunken in look of their skulls, as skin flaked against the bone, leathery and barely clinging on. But only on two of them.

The three soldiers he fought were in perfect condition, and that he couldn’t explain.

You chewed at your lip, staring down at the chemical formula you were writing out. “It makes sense, honestly.” You muttered. “These illnesses have different effects on each person. Plus, the repeated release and submersion of the cryo chamber had an important effect.”

Bucky listened closely, propping his head up to watch you.

“You were constantly being taken out for missions, for decades. You were being constantly treated and drugged, so the effects of the deterioration were stunted. Some of those soldiers may have just been left in there to rot, with nothing to slow the sickness.” You looked up at him, pausing the scribble of your electronic pencil.

His fond gaze swept over you, from the way you chewed your cheek in thought, to the tight grip you had on your pencil in your focused state. “Makes sense,” he muttered.

You nudged his knee. “Does it?” You lifted a brow skeptically.

“I may be from a different time, but I can keep up.”

You shrugged. “Hey, early 20th century education wasn’t the best, just gotta check.”

He bumped you with his leg, rolling his eyes. “Shut up.”

Once you finished giving Shuri a background of everything you’d recently done to Bucky, she set to work. She started with questioning Bucky on everything he could remember about the trigger system.

You could see the way he drew in on himself, his body tightening and rigid. You knew this was hard on him.

The look in his eye screamed it. He didn’t want to relive those moments. Being held down and restrained, muzzled and tortured. Zapped and cut open, again and again. But he had to do it. If this meant he could never be forced to hurt someone against his will again, he would do it.

But even Shuri was shifting awkwardly as she noted down his descriptions. She was a smart kid, and good at what she did. And like Tony, she always had a sarcastic quip. But the intensity of what Bucky endured, it was unlike anything she’d ever heard of.

But Shuri liked a challenge. And she wanted to help Bucky.

Shuri began by analyzing the neurological and psychological triggers Hydra implanted in Bucky, particularly the Russian activation phrase. She worked at isolating the brainwashing patterns in his mind.

Hydra's programming was a mix of psychological conditioning, neurological implants, and chemical triggers, possibly reinforced with technology.

It soon became obvious that the first thing Shuri could solidly do to help Bucky, was restructure the neural pathways associated with the activation phrases.

As well as removing any of the harmful plates still inserted in his head.

As awful as it sounded, Bucky agreed without a second thought. Surgery, in depth or not, didn't matter to him. He just wanted it done. He wanted to be sure that nobody could ever control him again.

So, after the first few days, Bucky was preparing for surgery.

Steve never left his side.

Steve was like a constant, hovering shield over Bucky. And god, it warmed your heart. Seeing the pair work at finding each other again was goddamn beautiful.

Steve yanked Bucky into a strong hug outside the surgical wing of the internal Wakandan palace medical bay. He held him close, his jaw tight.

Something you hadn’t thought about was that Steve still wasn’t used to the medicine of the modern era. In his time, the mortality rate for brain surgery could reach as high as 38-50%. Those weren’t favorable odds.

Steve pulled back, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “They’re not gonna shave your head for this, are they?”

Bucky huffed a soft laugh and ruffled Steve’s short hair. “They only have to shave an inch or two above my nape, jerk.”

Steve huffed, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. “Good, the long hair’s growing on me.”

You stifled a laugh.

Bucky glanced at you over his shoulder, his arms withdrawing from around Steve. “You think that’s funny?”

“I was trying to picture you bald.” You bit back a smile

“Please don’t.” He huffed, turning to you.

“Too late, it’s already in there.” You tapped against your temple. Bucky caught your wrist and tugged you into a hug. This one was lighter than all those you’ve shared before. Sweeter, not as heavy. Not as wrought with emotion.

His arms slid around your shoulders. You hugged his middle, your hands stroking his back. Bucky released a quiet breath against the crown of your head. You realized Bucky might be just as scared as Steve about this surgery.

Far more, actually.

“You’ll be fine,” you muttered, tickling your nails down his spine. He nodded, humming quietly into your hair.

“I know.”

You pulled back, looking up at him. “Trust me, this is definitely the best health care the world’s ever seen.” You grinned softly. Bucky, to your shock, quietly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your jaw.

“Yeah,” he swallowed.

The doors behind him slid open and Shuri popped her head out. “All ready when you are, bud.” She grinned.

Bucky slowly released you and pulled back. You stepped out of his space and absently touched where his fingers left goosebumps. Steve gave Bucky a knowing smile and patted his shoulder again.

“We’ll be waiting.”

Bucky glanced at you over his shoulder. “I know.”

A/N: Can you tell I can't stop using run-on sentences? If you can, don't tell me. Anyways! Hope ya'll liked this one. It almost killed me to write because I am so determined to write this perfectly and logistically.

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout @local-crazy @nynxtea @cherryheairt @soupiemeowmeow @akkklys @escapismurmom @sleepysongbirdsings @bumblebeebutter

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softsuo · 15 hours ago

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unexpected fists ⊱ sakura haruka

⊱ sakura may condone violence, unless it's you.

⊱ w.c: 1.0k

⊱ genre: fluff, mild angst

⊱ warnings: depictions/mentions of violence

⊱ a/n: wanted to delete this at first, but then i watched this week's episode, broke down, and decided to post it anyway

the roles are so reversed, it’s almost terrifying.

it’s sloppy work — sakura isn’t used to being the one who patches others up, after all — but he tries his best and you let him do so. you don’t have the right to protest anyway, or at least that’s what his scowl tells you as he puts one last band-aid on your face.

“so?” you almost grimace at the tone of his voice. you can make out sakura crossing his arms over his chest from the corner of your eyes, though you know better than to lock them with his surely bitter ones.

more often than not, or actually always, you’re the one scolding sakura whenever he gets hurt. yet, here you are, in the safety of café pothos, slumped in one of the seats as he towers over you with evident fury. to be fair, it’s not directed at you, but you’re guilty in the sense of being its cause.

“i… didn’t mean to get in a fight, i swear,” you mumble, awkwardly curling and uncurling the hands in your lap—bruised from the recent events, sweaty from the current event. will he still be mad after hearing that?

“so why did you get in a fight anyway?” he retorts flatly. yeah, he’s still mad.

“sakura, i’m sure y/n is telling the truth, please don’t be so harsh o—” you hear nirei stumble a bit further away, but he’s interrupted by kotoha placing a hand on his shoulder. in fact, she’s quick to usher both him and suo, as well as herself, out of the café.

left alone, sakura lets out a deep breath, one almost bordering on a groan. “you’re lucky we just happened to be walking around the area.” while collecting the first aid kit kotoha had offered, he goes on: “you’re not even into violence, how did you single-handedly get involved with a whole group?”

“...”

“hey.”

in complete surrender, you groan. “i tried to ignore them but they approached me first! then they kept insulting me which— okay, maybe pissed me off a little… i swear i didn’t start it though! but then they charged at me and for the love of god i obviously had to at least defend myself but then they kept calling me names like ‘freak’ and ‘loser' and what not and—...”

your rant suddenly trails off into silence, and while still displeased, sakura raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to continue. “and? i know stuff like that means jackshit to you.”

he’s got a point, honestly. you know just fine he does, so despite your face growing a bit warmer, you surrender yet again.

“but then again, it kinda fits, doesn’t it?” the mocking words ring in your ears as a hand pulls you up by your hair. it makes you wince, and even more so when — courtesy of pure disgust — the leader closes in to your ear. “only a freak would date another freak after all.”

you’re sure you’ll come to regret it at a later point but at that very moment, your patience runs thin a bit too easily. a crack finds the composed nature you like to otherwise pride yourself in and, without really thinking twice, you’re tossing your head backwards, knocking it into his face.

the shock and impact frees you from his grip, your arm swings into the air and next thing you know…

“i kinda punched him,” you confess, rather embarrassed upon admitting what had caused the switch-up. “and some of the others.”

it becomes quiet, so quiet, and for so long, you can’t help but curiously glance up; much to your surprise, you find sakura to be the one looking away this time, a tint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“y-you don’t have to care about what others think of me,” he sheepishly mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “although it does kinda make me…”

“make you? make you, what?”

a rather stressed expression is quick to find his face, the hand on his neck flying up to ruffle his hair in frustration. “nothing, it doesn’t matter! just… i really don’t care so just ignore it.”

“but—”

“no buts. one of us getting their hands dirty like that is already enough. you don’t have to get into all that fighting too. call next time instead."

sakura sends you a glare as soon as you open your mouth to try and argue back. not the threatening kind he shows others, but the kind that still lets you know he’s being serious. so, chewing on the inside of your cheek, you opt to simply look down at your lap. moments of silence pass, until it’s suddenly broken by a deep, deep sigh.

before you can process it, sakura is already leaning down, resting his forehead on your shoulders. as he speaks, his voice comes out in nothing but a weak, quiet mumble: “i can’t just sit back and watch you get hurt.”

the vulnerability he radiates fills the shop more than any amount of customers ever could; something he’d never as much as think of showing others, not even to the friends patiently waiting outside. his words sound almost like they’d torn themselves from his throat, faintly laced by a sense of concern—one so deep, it makes you fear that maybe, just maybe, he probably wouldn’t be able to live with himself if any of this were to happen once more.

“okay. alright, i won’t do it again,” you eventually declare, as softly as the way you run your fingers through the strands of his hair. “i promise i’ll call you next time it happens.”

you feel him nod, barely, a silent ‘okay’ escaping him. the vulnerability in the room is soon replaced by a comforting silence, and you’re equally hit by the relief that everything is finally okay—save from the bruises that are yet to heal.

“i have to say though, i’m impressed you got that many punches in.”

“make up your mind already, do you want me to fight or not?”

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker imagines #sakura haruka

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 days ago

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The Void

Hey guys! I haven’t written anything in a long while, so I’m a little rusty but I just saw thunderbolts and I ship Bob with Yelena, they are soulmates 😭

Anyway, pls forgive any errors

——————

Bob x Yelena

No warnings - just soft yearning

——————

The loss of her sister had been the string that frayed all the stitches that held Yelena’s heart together. Her pseudo family had been the only real thing she had known and now even something that had been make believe did not exist anymore.

What memories could she replay if all of them were fake?

What moments could she take solace in when her life required her to be on the move constantly?

It felt rather grey. Nothing to laugh about or no company to do it together. All she could do was reminisce and that was not a great habit, cause you can’t control it. You reminisce the good and it reminds you of the bad.

She found her way back to the base, or so that’s what everyone called it instead of calling it what it was, their home. This suburban mansion that belonged to Bucky now had become a share house. The Red guardian’s snores could be heard in the living room, Ava and Walker were arguing about something as usual in the backyard as faint snippets of their conversation slipped through. Bucky was away trying to salvage votes for his campaign and she had just finished her shift at the local youth facility.

Purpose.

To reshape the life of young women and in a way slowly, pull away the years she had lost herself in the red room. But whatever said, it was heavy work. And now she held all this weight she had gathered through the stories of the lives of these girls.

She heard the shuffling of pots and plates in the kitchen and then followed by the single beep of a button. Which had gotten the dishwasher started. She didn’t want to startle him, but it was one of her favourite moments, to watch Bob do the dishes. He stood by the sink washing his hands and as though he could sense her, he found her gaze. The soft smile breaking through his rather placid expression, which only Yelena had the power to do. To get him to feel light.

“You’re back early.”, he stated but she could sense the happiness in the tone of his voice.

“Did you miss me?”, she asked sarcastically as she folded her arms, a smile forming on her face, one she couldn’t hide. To which he paused, wiping away his wet hands as he gazed at her. As though he was in awe and in peace at the same time.

“I did.”, he gave her a soft nod followed by a genuine smile.

Yelena drew closer, her weight slowly eroding away. Unable to look at anything else, his soft sweater adding colour to his complexion, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. What if there existed a world they had both met each other when everything was right? Would it have still worked? Would they have still connected?

“It suits you.”, Bob said gently as he looked away. His cheeks flushing pink.

“What suits me?”, Yelena furrowed her brows as he slowly drew close to her, putting away the cloth on the counter top.

“When you smile, your eyes light up.”, he stated as though it was a common fact but it made her feel soft. She never had the luxury to feel soft towards anything in her line of work. But with Bob it was different. It was as though they were the physical form of kindness they had once deserved.

“That’s cause you like looking at me.”, she said playfully to which he averted his gaze but found the courage to look into her eyes again.

How had they managed to close the space between them? She could never tell.

“Maybe I do.”, he said softly, as though it wasn’t for the world to hear, it was only for her.

Yelena wanted to stay in this moment, this softness, nothing in the world could touch it now. So she reached forward and pushed back a strand of hair to stand on her toes and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Then do it more often.”, she said quietly.

“I spent a lot of my life learning how to hide.”

The shy demeanour had faded from him as he heard her statement, his hand found her waist as he pulled her into a hug, burying his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

Yelena gripped onto his shirt as she closed her eyes and gave herself the chance to just be. Even without too many words, they understood each other, the weight of their past lives.

“Yelena..”, he hummed as though he had so much to share.

“I know.”, she responded as she held onto him tighter.

“I know you.”, she added and his hold tightened.

“You were the light in my darkness and now I cannot comprehend a life without you in it.”, he spoke as his lips brushed her skin.

Little did he know, that even in his darkest, he helped her see through the light and by doing so, become stronger. She pulled away and he reluctantly let go. Her eyes boring into his features that made his blush turn darker.

“What?”, he questioned as he fiddle with the ends of her hair.

“I’m just glad you’re not blonde anymore.”, she smiled to which he pulled her into his embrace again. But it meant more than that. She was glad he wasn’t controlled by anyone, glad that now he could just exist as he was.

His arms wrapped around her with fondness, sighing with content as he tucked his face into her neck.

His world was so much more bigger now, wasn’t just a little room he was confined in anymore, for the first time there was soft afternoon light flooding around him. He placed his forehead on hers and all he could feel was that void in him not exisiting anymore. Now he felt full. He felt light, maybe if he believed it thoroughly, he could become it.

But for now, he was here, not in a lab, not in a maze but with her. Where everything felt soft and real

The sentry was not there anymore. In its place was the love he had always craved, only now, he didn’t have to fight for it. She gave it to him freely.

———

Hope you liked it 🫶

#Bob x Yelena #bolena #bob x reader #mcu thunderbolts #thunderbolts #lewis pullman #mcu fic

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soratatakano · 18 hours ago

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Silco Wasn't Good — But He Was Enough

I keep seeing debates about whether Silco was a “good father” — but the more I read, the more I realize that so many people judge him by the standards of our world, not his. Zaun is not a place where gentle ideals survive. It's brutal, broken, and unforgiving. You don’t get to parent in a world like that the way you would in ours. And yet… Silco still tried. That’s what makes his relationship with Jinx so powerful — and so tragic.

So I wrote this — not to excuse who he was, but to try and understand how he loved, and why that still matters. Was Silco a good father?

It’s a question that often divides Arcane viewers — yet too often, it’s judged through the lens of modern, idealized standards, rather than the brutal reality of the world Silco and Jinx lived in. To answer honestly, we have to separate our expectations from the world of Zaun — a place where innocence is a liability, and survival outweighs morality.

Silco was a criminal, a revolutionary, a murderer — someone who acted with cold calculation. But he wasn’t hollow. Fatherhood wasn’t his goal — it was a consequence of a choice made from a place of humanity that, despite everything, still lived in him. He wasn’t capable of being a "good" father in the social sense — he didn’t know how. He had never experienced those ideals himself. He was a man shaped by trauma, betrayal by Vander, years of isolation, and a consuming obsession with Zaun’s freedom. Such experiences warp your moral compass. And still — he tried.

You can’t give more than you have. Silco didn’t know how to love in the way we often expect. He had no softness, no experience of tenderness. But he gave Jinx everything he did have — his time, his attention, his presence, and most importantly, a place at his side. He didn’t shut her out or keep her at arm’s length for her protection. He brought her into his world, made her his equal, trusted her with secrets no one else knew. Their relationship was built on trust and understanding — even if the language they spoke was violence and survival.

And more than that — he tried to give more than he had. Even though he wasn’t built for softness, he still tried to protect her, took responsibility for her actions, justified her choices. He sought stability for her, even when he had never known it himself. He was willing to abandon his dream — the dream he had sacrificed everything for — if it meant she would be safe. That’s not manipulation. That’s love, expressed by a man who had no other way to show it.

Jinx, though damaged, wasn’t passive. She recognized in Silco the only person who never left her. Her loyalty wasn’t forced — it was conscious and deep. And that’s why she became his weapon — not because he made her into one, but because she chose to. He never tried to fix her or force her back into being Powder. He let her be who she was. And in her own understanding of love, she accepted his monstrosity and chose to shield him from the world that would tear him down.

He wasn’t a good father by ideal standards. But he was a good father in a world that had no room for ideals. He gave everything he had — even if all he had were broken things. And still, he tried to give more.

#arcane #silco #jinx #arcaneanalysis #arcaneheadcanon #arcaneopinions #jinxarcane #silcoarcane #foundfamily #tragiccharacters #morallygreycharacters #arcanezaun #silcoisacomplexcharacter #arcaneessays #jinxandsilco

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befemininenow · 16 hours ago

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Everything. Easier said than done.

That's the reality a lot of trans people face when coming out. Sure, you may get a lot of praise from friends, colleagues, and strangers for coming out as trans and that's very valid. But what about close family members, friends, or family? While you can easily dump transphobic people out of your life like taking out the trash on garbage day, it's a different story when that transphobe happens to be a parent or a spouse. And that sucks more than somebody in a GH (IYKYK).

I wrote that previous sentence because it's easy to see why I see so much NSFW shit in here. A lot of us are either still deep in the closet or have not been fully out to close ones because even though it's been easier to come out and transition, there's also been an unfortunate increase in homophobia and transphobia these past few years. Sometimes, we can't even be out in the comfort in our own home. As a result, the only time we can express that feminine side of ours without facing negativity is through the internet. These safe spots is where we can express our fantasies and desires to the point where they can be explicit. While a lot of these themes resonate with a lot of us, it also leaves us in a vulnerable state.

Recently, there has been drama on the MTF subreddit regarding sissy content, something that has always been banned in there as far as I know. The problem is, the moderator that enforced the sissy ban has also been connected with 4tran, a site that only validates trans girls who meet questionable criteria, such as transitioning at a younger age under hormones, consider themselves straight, and a bunch of other nonsense. To them, even admitting to being into feminization caption content to cope with their identity prior to coming out "invalidates" their identity because of the NSFW content that is so common in this scene. After being around in these scene for years now, I think I can say that we should be free to explore our kinks without feeling invalid of our identity.

Look, there will always be people who equate trans women with sissies, the latter being associated with a crossdressing male. That is the point I'm trying to make with this caption. No matter how much you do to become a bombshell babe like the woman in the pic, they will always categorize you as a "man". Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do to persuade those a-holes, even if you look like her. Let them live in their world of hate. But while you do see some trans women promoting their content on femboy and sissy spaces, there's a very high chance they're doing this to fund for their transition and/or basic cost of living. Often times, it's for a need of validation of being seen as a girl due to a hostile environment that misgenders them. That doesn't make them any less of a woman, cis or trans. Remember, trans women are not sissies!

While a lot of us do like to make captions expressing our need to take hormones, doll ourselves up, have sex with men (or women), or get SRS, it's also important we educate ourselves with the pros and cons of each act before we actually act upon them. Seriously, take these captions with a grain of salt. Not every caption will speak for you and me. You don't have to fulfill an explicit act if you're not attracted to men. Fulfill what your heart and mind truly desire, as long as you play it right.

If you made it this far into my rant, I'm very happy you took the time to read it. If not, that's okay. As long as the caption caught your attention, that's all it matters to me. Even if you're not fully out, at least this small free time of entertainment can help persuade you to make big choices in the future. After all, Flashback Friday isn't always going to be nostalgic, but it also helps us make a better future for ourselves.

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starry-fame · 18 hours ago

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Timeless Paradise [18+ X-02 Caleb x Gender Neutral!A-01 Reader/MC]

Summary:

“I… Will you hate me if I take more? If I’m a little selfish?” he murmurs. Fear. You’re sure of it. He squeezes you tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll shove him away and flee. Like you’ll tell him you don’t need or want him anymore. For wanting more? For being selfish?

Just because Caleb said “Caleb” means someone who will do anything for you… doesn’t mean he can’t be a little selfish with you too.

Tags: Porn with Feelings, Ambiguous genitalia!reader/MC, Gender-Neutral!reader/MC, Bittersweet, Bath Sex, X-02 and A-01, First Time, Penetrative Sex, Innocent!MC (they were kept in a pod their whole life lol), Caleb guiding MC through sex, Desperate Sex Word count: 9,214

Ao3

Masterlist

Author's Notes: I did a lot of debating on how to present their relationship because I tend to prefer the non-westernized nuance. From the way I’ve come to interpret it (,,from my westernized lens, and only being able to use varying anecdotes from people who understand Chinese ^^;), I decided using gege was best because brother is way too rigid and strictly family coded in English. Anyway — thanks. Not exactly the main timeline Caleb fic but perhaps very soon. For now — hope you enjoy!

Happiness.

That’s one of the first marvel emotions X-02 — Caleb now — taught you. Or rather, drew out of you. He didn’t tell you how to be happy. What happiness meant or how to achieve it. With him, you just were, and when you looked at him with crinkled eyes and widened cheeks, he told you that warm feeling in your chest was joy. That the expression he made in turn was also joy. Because of you.

You didn’t get it then. You think you do now. You make Caleb happy. He’s the only one who’s ever made you happy. So you’re the key to each other’s happiness. Like a secret.

That’s nice. You didn’t get to keep many secrets. Except your seed and Caleb’s name you held deep in your chest, staring at the somber boy behind the glass with an unspoken yearning you couldn’t place.

Caleb said he got to go out a lot more. Deployed on far off missions. More than just a final destructive weapon to drop on the enemy. Why did your memories get wiped so often compared to his? Reverted to a clean slate every time, no memories of happiness. Joy. Anger. Fear. Just the instinctive human reaction to certain voices, experiences, sounds, and smells. They might’ve wiped your mind’s memories, but it feels like your body is acutely aware of it all some days.

All you remember is the walls, the moment before the sun rises in a summer sky, and the boy you named Caleb that whisked you away once more, even when you didn’t remember or understand why.

As though on cue, he walks inside. You’re perched on the bed, a little stiff, you always are. It’s the nice cozy home the old lady let you two stay in, full of knick-knacks and decorations that feel alien to you, but invoke a sense of peace. Before this you’ve never slept on a bed, never felt the warm sun through a window caress your cheeks and paint the room in a gorgeous golden glow.

And you certainly never smelled something that instantly made your mouth water. Your eyes dart to Caleb, gloved and mechanical fingers coated in a mysterious white dust as he holds a plate containing a large slice of… of something. Blue in the middle and a golden brown texture on the outside.

“You liked the bluestripe berry. So I got a recipe. Thought you might like bluestripe berry pie,” he says, with that sort of voice he uses when he’s trying to appease you and doesn’t mind rejection. But when Caleb is trying to make you “happy”, you always find yourself accepting his gestures. After all. You’re sure of one thing — you want Caleb to be happy too.

“Pie…?” You murmur as he approaches and sits next to you on the bed. He hands you a utensil (a fork, you learned), and offers the plate to you invitingly.

When you grab it, it’s warm. A pleasant smell and steam rises from the… thing before you. It smells very edible, however.

“A kind of pastry. It’s sweet and flaky and goes really well with the bluestripe berry. Try a bite,” he hums. Your eyes flicker up to Caleb’s and you find nothing but sweetness and warmth in his gaze. Maybe a little anticipation. A feeling that makes this warm heat flare in your chest you’ve never been able to explain. You didn’t feel this way when you watched him from your pod, but now…

You dip your fork in and take a bite. An instant soft sweetness fills your tongue. The warmth almost enhances the berry, gives it a unique taste, and the flaky pastry almost melts in your mouth.

“It’s sweet. Soft.” You say calmly.

The next forkful is with a lot more vigor. Caleb watches, looks enthralled just from you eating as you practically shovel the food into your mouth like you’ll never have anything like it again. You never had anything like it. This sweet flaky goodness mixed with a goo-like texture that sits on your tongue like heaven. Have you ever had anything this good before? It feels like your tastebuds are singing for joy.

“Looks like we found your new favorite,” he laughs softly. The plate is nothing but crumbs and even then you fight the urge to lick it clean. You hear a murmured, “messy” as his gloved fingers wipe bits of crumbs and berry from your face. You instinctively lick off what he wiped and you feel his body pause momentarily, see the way his expression freezes for that split second before he’s all soft again and leaning close.

It’s weird when Caleb leans close. Whenever someone got too close you were designed to hack them with your swords. Watch the blood flow freely when your unlucky target was a human and not an android. Close meant retreat, destroy, death. But when Caleb gets close… your instinct is to relax.

“I’ll make you more. Anytime I can. Just to see that look on your face,” he says. That soft whispery voice that never fails to make your heart thunder a little faster, make your face stiffen as you attempt to comprehend your body’s strange reactions. You know the concept of fear. Pain. Discomfort. A wish to escape. But Caleb never fails to drag emotions from you you’ve never been able to experience before. A strange longing combined with a desire for something you can’t quite articulate. Not fully. Not enough.

His lips press against the corner of your lips, then a warm tongue.

You feel your mind stutter to a stop.

Then it starts up again, it takes a bit to realize he’s licking the excess from your mouth this time. Sometimes just a press of his lips. A kiss. He taught you that too. A way of showing affection. And to clear pie crumbs from your face, apparently.

Your fingers — restless, instantly grasp onto the leather of his traps. Caleb blinks, reassesses the situation, and pulls away with a fluid grace that leaves you feeling empty.

“I know, I know. Should’ve brought you a napkin. Sorry about that,” he gently apologizes. This look is… different. Still soft. But stilted. Like he’s almost guilty but still wants…?

Caleb shouldn’t feel guilty. You like it when he showers you in affection. His soft kisses on your face always feel nice…

Though you don’t know if you’ve ever showered him in return. That isn’t right. Is that why he pulled away? Because he thinks you don’t wanna kiss him too? Well that’s a stupid assumption.

You huff and scoot closer after he pulled away. He blinks at you, curious, and your response is awkwardly pressing your lips against his cheek. You have to purse them a little, and make that little sound when you pull away. That’s how Caleb said… normal humans did it. What you two could be one day. Not just weapons.

It feels like a far off dream and yet it’s been days since you’ve had to battle. Days since you’ve had one long string of connective memory and not scattered fragments of lost promises and the screams of those you murdered with the blade of your sword and your two bare hands. Every day like this? Caleb’s right. It probably would be paradise.

Caleb blinks at you once. Twice. Your response is to kiss his nose this time.

“Affection,” you parrot. As human as Caleb makes you feel, you still feel so mechanical at times. Learning basic human gestures, desires, what it means to want to be held, to want affection, to have your heart thunder when held on someone’s back, and the plethora of emotions another person can invoke. It’s like a baby deer learning to walk. Except its memory was erased everytime it might’ve possibly learned. And it was kept in a pod. And constantly in a state of mental fog while treated like a social and science experiment.

…You’re still getting used to the feeling of being fully active and alert when it’s not a war zone. Like waking up from a lifelong dreamless slumber. You’ve never thought so many things at once.

Caleb’s mouth parts softly, then a sweet laugh that makes your ears feel warm fills the room, and he’s wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling your forehead. Warm. Close. You don’t like being cooped up, but when it’s Caleb, it feels like safety, not confinement.

“Affection, huh? I’m glad I earned it,” he murmurs, holding on like he might never let go. Never wanted to. Caleb’s once mentioned finally being able to hold you like this… everytime you watched Caleb through that one-way mirror, were these his thoughts? Holding you? Showering you in affection? Even when he barely knew you?

Caleb was made with you. Exists for you. To heal you. To fix you. To give you energy when you were low. Wouldn’t a person hate that? And yet Caleb keeps you close, like you’re a precious gem he’d never risk handing over. Whenever you ask why, he answers “because I’m your gege.” Like it’s the answer to everything. The only right answer there ever could be. The only reason he needs.

You notice a small seed of… something in Caleb’s face when he declares it. Certainty. He clings to the title with pride. Assurance. And yet there’s a small waver in it. You wish you understood it better but you can only grasp the shifts in expressions, not the exact meaning. There’s a lot of human emotions to buckle down and learn, you figure.

You have this habit of instinctively melting into his arms whenever he holds you. He feels like sanctuary. Like peace. Like warmth, “home”, and “paradise” all in one. Caleb wants a planet where the two of you are free. From the lab, your pursuers, the rebels... That would be nice. You’re pretty sure you just want Caleb though. Him. Here and holding you. Taking you to places to make you smile and keeping promises even after years pass. The only one who calls you by the name you decided for yourself. Who kept the name you decided for him.

“Mmm. You’re so cute…” He whispers. It’s so quiet you wonder if it was even meant for you. Cute. You’re not sure if the phrase makes you happy or frustrated. This… feeling of tickled discomfort wells in you like you like it yet dislike it at the same time. Shame? It’s almost like when you accidentally fall or fumble in battle but a little different….

Ah, embarrassment.

Then Caleb sniffs and pulls away. “Shouldn’t be hugging you when I need a bath. I’ve been out picking berries and upgrading the ship all day…”

Bathing. Caleb explained it to you. Sometimes while trying to find sanctuary when flying you’d dunk in tiny, secluded waterfalls. He says it’s to keep the bugs and dirt away. Entirely foreign to you, however you were cleaned, you were never awake for the process. You’d get shipped back to the laboratory doused in blood, dirt, oil, and grime. By the time you wake up in the pod with your memories wiped, you only remember your purpose and you’re squeaky clean. Battlefields. Irrelevant memory wipe. Pod. Over. And over. And over.

“The waterfall.” You murmur. That’s the last time you had a bath, so to speak. Two days ago when you pulled Caleb into the flowing water with you and you both sparkled, hidden amidst the forestry.

Caleb hums, and he seemingly can’t resist the urge to grasp your hand. “We can take warm baths here too. Guess I only brought up how to use the shower, huh?” he chuckles, as though silently reprimanding himself.

Admittedly… though he showed you how to use the shower, you defaulted to dipping in the stream you and Caleb once found while fighting wanderers. It was comforting. And Caleb would laugh and splash with you so you were in the open and never alone.

…Maybe you just hated being alone.

Your head dips.

“…You didn’t use it, huh? Too cramped?” He asks. Not accusatory. Not mad. Just curious. You turn your head away.

“I didn’t want to.”

Tight. Isolated. Confined. Glass.

“…Alright. The bath is more open. C’mon, you should have at least one warm one while you’re here,” he says. He guides you to stand, placing the plate on a desk, and you don’t resist him.

You can almost imagine the warmth from his bionic arm as he guides you to the bathroom. The room alone is already pretty tiny, and to subject yourself to stand in that glass case just for warm water? You’d take a cool stream anyday.

Caleb turns one of the nozzles in tub and water flows in. He presses the stopper, and the water doesn’t flow down the drain anymore. Steam steadily fills the space while Caleb narrates.

“It feels really nice, you know. Especially if you take off your exoskeleton.”

He even goes so far as to pour liquid soap in the stream, and it creates a plethora of condensed bubbles. It fills the air with a sweet, floral scent.

You look at your body quietly. Take off your exoskeleton…? You’ve certainly had it ripped into when you’ve fought on battlefields before passing out, but intentionally taking it off never seemed like an option. Especially not with danger around the corner. Below the metal and leather was flesh. Flesh that was easily wounded. Even if your pain receptors were modified, enough wounds into flesh was enough to drive anyone dizzy with pain. No exoskeleton meant no weapons, no weapons meant vulnerability.

You pick at the metal, almost hesitant.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, but…” Caleb’s eyes drift over to you. Understanding slowly begins to dawn on him as the cogs in his mind seem to visibly turn in front of your eyes.

“You…. You never did. Huh?” He looks… sad.

You blink at him. “You’ve done it before?”

He nods slowly. “When I was deployed in the desert, the soldiers would strip to bathe. While I technically wasn’t supposed to… I tried it once in secret, for myself. Water directly on the skin feels so different even if it dries a little slower. It’s nice. And light.” He says. It must be a distant memory for him by now, and yet it seems to stick crystal clear in his mind.

Of course. You imagine your first escape with Caleb wouldn’t be scattered memories if they weren’t modified. It’d be as present as the reality you live now.

You nod slowly and look down at your body. If Caleb thinks it’s safe… if nothing would happen during the short respite you bathed… the idea of warm water on flesh sounds pleasant.

You start undoing the buckles on your biceps. The more you stare down at your outfit, the more impossible slipping out of it seems…

You’re sure you’ll get it if you go piece by piece. You’re determined to. You start fumbling with your pants and suddenly two large hands are clasping over yours, sunrise eyes staring at you incredulously.

“W-Wait until I’m outside at least! Jeez. You can’t just go stripping around anyone, pipsqueak…” he sighs. That odd nickname he once gave you. He uses your name more, but sometimes it slips out. When you asked, he said it’s because he’s the one who takes care of you.

That didn’t feel entirely truthful. But you let it slide. You watch Caleb calmly as he’s frantically grasping your fingers one moment, then turning around to escape the bathroom the next.

Your hand instantly grabs onto the leather of his sleeve and he pauses. He doesn’t look at you. Like he can’t. Like looking at you hurts him. But you tug him back anyway.

It’s already so small. At least Caleb being in here with you makes it bearable.

And…

“The exoskeleton is hard to take off on my own,” you say simply. A fact. It was modeled for efficiency and capability, not for ease of stripping.

Caleb sighs heavily, probably the heaviest sigh you’ve ever heard from him, but he turns back to you. Resigned.

“Fine. I’ll help you. …But you can only ask me for help, got it?” He mumbles as he helps pull off components of your suit one by one. Arms. Legs. Meticulously unworks the clasps from your back as you stand perfectly still for him.

“I only trust you,” you respond. To strip of your battle armor? You wouldn’t around anyone else anyhow. That seems to placate Caleb as layer after layer drops to the floor and your body feels so light.

Soon, you’re in nothing but the under most layer of your armor. A mere bodysuit to keep things from chafing. It’s easy for you to strip from here on and Caleb takes that as his cue to turn off the water. The bubbles swish gently and the smell invites you.

“There. Take all the time you need, yeah? And if you need help putting it back on, just give me a holler,” he says. And again, he tries to make his grand escape.

Frustrated, you grasp onto his arm once more and stare at him. It definitely shows on your face. Caleb’s made you feel like this more than a few times. It seems to tie into how much you care for him and want to be cared for by him.

“Bathe with me.” You tell him plainly. No room for argument. He says he needs a bath too, so isn’t it killing two birds with one stone? Caleb pauses, looks at you as though you’ve said something so outlandish you begin to wonder if maybe you’re in the wrong…?

But all you get is a mumbled, “you know I can’t resist you like this…” somehow about you, yet directed toward himself like a one-man show. He shakes his head, smiles a little, and gently raps your forehead.

“Alright. You gonna help me strip too?”

It doesn’t take too long. A couple of minutes at most. But Caleb still insists on draining some of the water and adding even more hot water to keep the bath nice and warm. Now you’re both in your bottom most undergarments and you calmly strip off the last of your clothing.

You get a good look at your body for… maybe the first ever time? If you did before, you don’t remember. Your skin is soft and fleshy. You press against your stomach, feel the warmth radiating from it. A human body on its own is warm. You only knew the warmth of blood splatter before.

There’s your chest. And your genitals. Though with the way you were fed and kept, you can’t remember the last time you actually used them for their intended purpose, if ever. Just one of the many ways they made a human… less human.

Caleb can’t take his eyes off you. He looks enthralled, almost. Doesn’t even touch his own clothes, just looks you up and down like a piece of fruit. Then he hastily looks away with a cough and turns around. “You should get in the tub first. I’ll get in behind you,” he says. Can’t even look at you anymore when he was looking so shamelessly before. Well then. If he says so.

When you sink in, the feeling is… exquisite. Warmth. Not the uncomfortable dizzying kind, but the sort that loosens the tension in your muscles and allows your body to rest. The hot water seeps into your very being, sloshes against the more bionic parts still implanted into your body. But it’s basically all flesh and you were certainly missing out. A splash in the lake or waterfall was refreshing, almost fun in the ability to at least attempt swimming (Caleb would use his evol to keep you from sinking.) This, however… this is soothing. The bubbles smell nice and you find yourself captivated in picking them up, staring at the way the light bounces off of them and creates various little rainbows of color.

Before you know it, there’s a splash behind you and the water rises even more. You turn your head to glance, watch Caleb slip in, and the water rises even higher to your chest. It’s a fairly steep tub. He lets out a satisfied groan when the water hits his skin and seems more comfortable looking at you now that sweet smelling bubbles surround the two of you.

“You like it? You look like you do,” he says. You pick up some bubbles, rub them softly on your arm so they don’t all pop to see how it coats your skin. Without a moment’s hesitation, you nod.

“I do. It’s warm. Feels nice. Relaxing too…” you murmur. Maybe it’s because you don’t have your exoskeleton helping to regulate your pain that your sore muscles feel so much more prominent. Caleb chuckles, nods, and you can’t help but zero in on the one part of him that sticks out like a sore thumb, not fleshy in the slightest.

You poke his right arm.

Caleb grimaces a little, but he answers the silent question. “When I was deployed for a month, right at the end… the battle was pretty brutal. Guess they didn’t realize I’d get so banged up. Both of us were enhanced to be a lot more resilient after that,” he explains. He doesn’t recount it directly, but even you can connect the dots.

Your response is silently running your fingers over it. Feeling each ridge, whirr, and mechanical imitation of a pulse to function like the real thing. You’re not sure if you’re expressing melancholy or… or what.

“Do you hate it?” He suddenly whispers. He looks more fragile in that moment than you’ve ever seen him before. You quickly shake your head.

“I hate… the lab.” Is your response. You never really allowed yourself to feel much towards your upbringing. You just were. You existed as a government weapon. Nothing more. No escape. No autonomy. A mindless object to be deployed and wiped clean. But the more time you spend conscious and away from that stifling pod, that AI voice you’ve come to abhor hearing, the more you can confidently say you hate everything the lab put you and Caleb through. Forced you to be. You’re a weapon. But when Caleb shows you how to live like a human, it feels… right. And you despise anything that wants to take that away from you two.

Your fingers trail from his bicep to his chest. Caleb’s breath hitches.

“Your skin is warm,” you murmur. Warmed by the heat of the tub and due to natural body temperature, you’re sure. The slightly sticky heat radiates and you think you wanna be held by him again. On instinct and because you know Caleb always wants to, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. The soothing bath already makes you serene. Combined with his body heat? You could lull yourself to sleep, even without your battle armor, your protection.

“Hey…” Caleb inhales and exhales shakily. He uses considerable strength to pry your arms away and stare intently into your slightly widened, confused eyes. Caleb almost never denied a hug. Did you do something wrong this time?

“When you… I mean…” Caleb begins, stammers, and his cheeks turn a shade of red. His breathing is a little more shallow too. Is he embarrassed?

“Caleb?”

His air comes out sharp and quick. Caleb’s made a good few unique expressions since he came back with the pie. You can’t properly discern the meaning in this one, it’s entirely foreign.

“Skin to skin contact is… one of the main ways humans express affection. Flesh is sensitive. So you can feel a lot more,” he says. As though to prove his point, he gently lets go of your wrists and instead trails his hands up and down your arms. From your shoulders to your elbows…

He’s right. It feels tingly. You feel every warm press of his palm and fingers and when his hands squeeze a little you sigh in content. It feels nice. But if that’s the case, why would Caleb want to pull away…? He’s the one who likes expressing affection.

“And when people are naked, together… it… invites a lot of different ways to touch each other. Kiss each other,” he explains softly. Despite that indecipherable look in his eye, he never looks mad or frustrated explaining things to you. In a way, you almost feel envy. He got to keep his memories. Has knowledge of distant worlds and how humans interact. At least he kept a modicum of his humanity. It feels like you’re learning what it even means to exist as a human.

“You stopped me because… you don’t want to kiss me? Or touch me more?” Is your first response. And Caleb’s soft, explaining look jumps into a mix of panic and… regret? He quickly shakes his head a few times, and gathers himself once more.

“No. Never. Of course I do. I…” His expression softens again, and he gently guides you closer. The heat of his chest radiates against your own. “It’s just… if I start. I won’t want to stop.”

You blink. That… was all? Caleb could kiss you for hours and you probably wouldn’t mind. It always feels nice when he does. And he enjoys when you do it back to him. And you like his hands on your skin so you imagine he’ll like your hands on his too. If there’s one thing you’ve realized about Caleb, for how much he reaches for you without hesitation. Drags you away and declares his reasons under the title of ‘gege’, he still always has this fear. A lack of reciprocity. He might not always say it, but if he touches you, he wants to be touched too. If he hugs or kisses you, when you show him that you wanna hug and kiss him too… he looks at you like it’s impossible and all he could ever want all in one.

So your response is to wrap your arms around his neck and murmur. “You don’t have to.”

This is the most vulnerable state you’ve ever let your body be in. If Caleb wants to express his affection like this… of course you wouldn’t stop him. You’ll even try to do the same yourself.

“Jeez. I should’ve known. You always want more,” he murmurs. When he caressed your cheek and you wanted him to shower you in affection. When you reached out and held him for the first time and he realized he was the only one who could confine you. He shouldn’t exactly be surprised at this point, you think. Still, his nose drags across the plump of your cheek before dipping towards your jaw.

It tickles.

And he nuzzles affectionately before he presses his lips against skin.

A familiar ritual. You seep into the warmth and strength of his arms (even his bionic one is warming within the heat of the water) as he presses his lips against your jaw. Cheeks. Forehead. Nose. The corner of your lips. Peppers your face in featherlight kisses that makes your breath a little shaky and your face feel warm.

Then his lips press against yours. Extended. He kissed your lips just once before. His final show of his lesson of affection. Now it’s sweeter, a little firmer, and he guides your chin up as he pulls away, breathes a “try copying what I do,” and kisses you again. It’s slower, deeper, this time. His lips move with meaning, make you a little dizzy as you mimic the gesture. Slowly move your lips, barely pull away just to change the angle and kiss again. Kiss his upper lip. Lower lip. Just like he does to you.

Your arms shake. You squeeze him tighter and he cradles your cheeks like you’re precious.

“Open your mouth. Just a little,” he murmurs against your lips. You don’t question it, part your lips as asked and the next kiss has his warm tongue gently licking into your mouth. It’s soft and draws an unexpected moan from your lips. You feel hotter. Even warmer in the already heated water and gently lick into his mouth just the same. It draws noises from his throat too, and they make you throb in a way you never had before.

His kisses combined with the heat makes your brain foggy. Before long you’re panting and your breaths are shallow and scarce, kissed breathless. Ever so attentive, when you’re too weak, he instead moves to kiss your cheek again. Slides his nose toward your ear to whisper, “when we kiss like that, we’re making out,” and then his kisses trail down from the shell of your ear to your neck.

It’s… different. Caleb couldn’t kiss any further down due to your exoskeleton suit before. Now he kisses your neck and it has you making an embarrassing noise and biting your lip to quell it as quickly as it arose.

Caleb pauses for a moment. His fingers on your face tighten just a little, firm, and he whispers, “sensitive, huh?” Before kissing your neck again. Slowly. Drags his lips and tongue like he’s savoring every inch.

Yeah. Sensitive. When he kisses your neck it makes your body wanna tremble, makes you hold him with the urge for more and to escape all at once. These new feelings Caleb always manages to evoke are… so hard to describe. But if Caleb isn’t stopping, are they normal?

His fingers drop from your face into the water to cradle the pinch of your waist. His kisses travel from one side of your neck to the other, and this one specific spot pulls a whimper even from your bitten teeth and makes you feel hot. Restless. He licks there again and your body twitches into his touch, the heat of the tub combined with his kisses almost too much to bear.

You have to pull away. You pant and tremble and Caleb looks at you with mild concern as his hands stroke up and down your sides so softly. It’s probably to comfort, but it doesn’t quell the feeling in your body.

“Too much?” He asks. His own cheeks are flushed, eyes half-lidded and he looks as drunk on kisses as you are, if not even more.

His hands on you are shaking too.

Your mouth parts, a soft noise is all that escapes, then it shuts. How do you describe it? The way your body is throbbing. The way his kisses make everything tingle, the way you can barely breathe and your mind is in this pleasant haze.

Your fingers trail down your body to the source of your heat. You palm gently against the flesh and it pulls a sound from you. Will touching yourself resolve the ache? But your body’s so sensitive you feel out of control…

Caleb’s pretty eyes, like a supernova, watch your hand in fascination. As you deliberately palm yourself, shaking, and immediately he’s cradling you in his arms and pulling your hand away from yourself. You whimper from the loss of pressure.

“Fuck…” he curses. He buries his head in your shoulder, shaking. You can’t tell if he’s scared, angry, or something else altogether. It doesn’t change the way you just want to grind against something more, be touched more, it just leaves you panting and wanting more of what you fail to articulate.

Just because Caleb said “Caleb” means someone who will do anything for you… doesn’t mean he can’t be a little selfish with you too.

“What… do you want to do?” You ask quietly. You doubt whatever it is, that you’ll reject him. But still. His fear feeds into you, now you feel anxious too.

“I want you in my arms. To kiss you everywhere. To hold you. Touch you. Here.” His fingers caress your check. “And here,” they travel down the vein of your neck. You shake. He squeezes you tighter. “And here.” His fingers go down, brush against your cheek, your abdomen, and settle just at your inner thighs. So high. So close. But not enough? You squirm and he stills your movements with ease.

“I… I’ll hate you if you don’t take more,” you rasp. He won’t let you seek more. Won’t let you calm this restlessness in you. Holds you still even when you’re trembling with need. It’s not fair. Does he not feel this too? Is it only you?

…His pink cheeks. The way he’s shaking. Maybe he does feel it. But if he does, why…?

“…Talk to me, okay? Tell me if you hate something,” he murmurs. His voice is so shaky you can’t barely make sense of it. But he’s taking you and gently goading you to turn your back to him anyway, and you comply. Though it saddens you a little… you can’t kiss him easily like this.

His arm trembles around your waist, you’re pulled against him and you feel the hard press of what you’re pretty sure is an erection against your back. You… you know about the human reproductive system, of course, but you don’t exactly have experience with it…

“Have you ever… touched yourself here?” He whispers. Your legs tremble where his fingers trail up and down your inner thigh methodically, hips bucking just barely but he strokes like your body isn’t reacting at all. You desperately shake your head. If he talks quicker, maybe he’ll finally get to touching you.

“Mm. Tell me how it feels,” he says. Almost deceptively calm for the way you swear his hips are rubbing against your back and you feel the twitch of him. His fingers stop teasing — finally — and gently press between your legs. Your hips try to arch up but he holds you still to his back, warm breaths heavy, the sound of a thudding heart against your spine. He’s finally touching you and you feel yourself ache, but you’re sure he’s being mean, the way his touch is barely there and you have to use your own hand to goad him to press firmer, do more, touch.

Then his fingers and strokes are firm, determined. The way he moves, finally loosens enough to let you rut against his palm but he ruts against your back at the same time so you’re always connected. Soft rasps leave your mouth, sometimes noises, and you can’t control the way your hips start to roll or the way your heart is thundering like it might explode. An almost scared whimper leaves you and Caleb instantly recognizes it, soothing you with gentle kisses behind the ear and on your neck.

You’re twitching, you think. Your swollen arousal throbs against his ministrations while his other hand decides to sneak up to your mouth — you don’t even realize your lip is bitten until he’s prying it open and slipping his fingers inside. “Let it out. Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs, his voice is so light and sweet but his fingers are like torture slipping between your wet lips and the weak sounds leaving them with nothing but your throat to hold them back. You’re drooling from his fingers, it’s filthy, and he doesn’t give a damn, just holds them nice and shallow so you can bite on them if need be — bionic. You could bite as hard as possible and it wouldn’t leave a dent. So you do, you close and whimper around the metal as he catches your ankles with his own and gently spreads your legs wider, doesn’t let you close your thighs around his hand.

“Ngh…!” you try to speak. You can’t. All you know is your hips are moving like they’re not yours and you’ve never been so… out of control of your body, not like this. The sounds leave without permission. Your hips shake without permission and that throbbing warmth in your core feels like it’s too much but Caleb just relentlessly moves his fingers and holds you open at his mercy until…

Your body shakes and goes stiff, a weak cry leaving your parted mouth as the pleasure crashes over with each twitch, each throb as you feel yourself make a dirty mess of the bath water but Caleb doesn’t stop — just holds you open for him and keeps touching as though saying you’re not done until he says so. A shaky moan leaves your sensitive body before you slowly relax, twitching, panting, limp. Even when you relax you feel Caleb groan and move to grab both of your hips, rolling his hips against your back and drawing a startled whine from your lips. Caleb’s louder now, little soft noises coming from behind that make your already spent body twitch still as he uses your back to grind against and can’t let you go, even when you try to squirm he holds you tighter and buries his neck in your shoulder, whimpering. “Just… just let me…”

“Caleb… I…” Your breaths are labored and it’s like Caleb can’t control desperately rubbing himself against you like an animal in heat. “I can touch you too.” You whisper. That… that feeling he gave you. He’s trying to reach that too. But wouldn’t it be better if you did it for him?

The haze in Caleb’s brain seems to clear, at least enough to startle and make his hips jerk in an unsteady rhythm. His arms loosen and you take the opportunity to twist around and face him, looking down the water in a slightly white sheen. You push away some of the remaining bubbles to see better.

Flushed and hard. It was throbbing against your back before, twitching like he could release any minute. And when you look up, Caleb’s face is a mess. Flushed. Needy. Maybe even more needy than you were when you wanted him to touch you. His calm voice was the complete antithesis to the raw desperation clouding his face.

“You can be selfish with me,” you repeat quietly. He said he wanted to be selfish, so of course you’d let him use your back if he wants… but if he wants you to touch him like he was able to touch you…

Caleb’s breath rasps. Than, a low, dark chuckle leaves him. It almost sounds resigned. Regretful.

“You want me to be selfish?” he scoffs in a laugh. Shocked. Bitter. Self-depreciating. He wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and pulls your hips flush to his cock. “My definition of ‘selfish’ is being so deep inside you I hear you cry out every time I move. I want you so badly I can’t even think. Touching? I want you clinging on to me and still begging for more,” he rasps desperately. Darkly. A deeper done than you’re used to. Rougher than you’re used to. You let him hold you, don’t pull away. You listen to every word he has to stay.

His grip softens. His voice is less pointed. “It won’t just be touching. But we shouldn’t move that fast. Not… not when you’ve… you’re….” he trails off. You… think you can guess. You don’t know as much as Caleb. Your memories get erased. His don’t. He has access to the outside world with memories. A database. He’s had to teach you a lot of things, like what it meant to feel, what certain things were…

You know. Caleb’s been the one to teach you all sorts of ways to connect and be affectionate. So you’re sure he’s worried of overwhelming you. Too much too fast. But…

“…I can’t experience if you don’t show me. You show me lots of things. I want this too.” You whisper bitterly. More passive than you’d like. But you fear if you demand, he might shut down. You’ve never seen him like this.

It just makes you want all of him more. However he wants you.

Caleb’s exhale is so ragged you wonder if he might cry. Instead, he’s gently pulling away and slowly standing from the tub.

You don’t chase him. You just watch as he rummages through the bathroom cabinet and pulls out that bottle of lubricant you often see him use for his arm. More skin-safe since it connects to his flesh. Then he climbs back into the water, face unreadable, eyes half-lidded. Are you something he adores… or his prey?

He pulls you onto his lap again, but coaxes you to balance your knees on either side. The more lukewarm water sloshes around, but the heat from Caleb’s body still encases you.

He kisses the jut of your collarbone as you watch him squirt the lubricant onto his hand. His voice comes out low and soft, “Tell me if you wanna stop. Always will.“ He peppers the softest kisses from the hollow of your throat to your bare shoulders as you feel more weightless, like the strain of this position is gone. His evol?

And his teeth gently mark your shoulder (maybe it would last if you were more human) as a warm, slick finger from his left hand circles around your entrance. Chills you, and pushes in before you can comment.

It’s gentle. So gentle. But thick. And foreign. Caleb must immediately see the furrow in your brow, he makes a soothing noise and presses wet lips against your throat. “Sorry. I should’ve warned you,” he mumbles. Sweet. But he still moves his finger without pause. You’re hovered just above the tub and hear the dip of the water mixed with the wet thrust of his finger inside of you.

For some strange reason, it makes you shy.

“Don’t wanna hurt you. You can cling to me if it feels weird.” he speaks against your throat. You tremble and wrap your arms around his neck, lips level with his forehead. Your lips run across the bone of his brow, reverent, and he sighs as his finger doesn’t just thrust, it curls and rubs inside you, and the brow you kissed furrows with concentration, you think.

You jump, then bury your face between your arms and side of his head, by his ear when his finger rubs just right, so sweet inside of you. The tingle runs from your hips and radiates outwards, and Caleb keeps pressing and keeps making you roll against his wet finger onto the weight of his hand.

“Here, huh…?” He says, soft, that whispery tone he does when he’s talking about how terrible this world is and how he’ll bring you someplace wonderful, to paradise. You wonder, dizzily, will paradise be like this too? Will you be able to have Caleb’s finger rubbing inside of you whenever you want?

“Mmm….” You groan, and Caleb snatches your lips in a kiss like they’re his and his alone as he slips his middle finger barely out, drags two inside. You want the thick feel of his fingers but your body still goes stiff on instinct and he moans soft against your lips, open-mouthed wet kisses that leave a sheen of saliva on you both.

“You gotta open up for me. Relax,” he mouths, murmuring your name as his fingers curl and stretch all in one. Not fair at all. He’s not the one with two fingers inside of him. You whimper, pull back enough to glare, and his eyes widen before he’s softly laughing and sucking at your throat. Shit. He nibbles and you jolt. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the bad guy. But the way you look when I do this…” his fingers thrust a little harder, almost mean while rubbing against that bundle of nerves that makes you weak and whimper. “Doesn’t look like you hate it that much.”

…Was he teasing you? Or just being mean? You swat gently at his shoulder and he just chuckles and drags you close again by the lower back, metal cool on your skin as flesh fingers scissor and stretch. It’s wet and warm and it’s like everytime he’s thrusting against that perfect spot he stops just before it’s too much. Circles and curls his fingers like he’s opening you up from all angles. His cool hand works its way around your body, your abdomen, your back, hips, slowly up to the expanse of your chest.

He thumbs a nipple, you quiver, and he works in a slow but meticulous third finger while he dips his head to kiss between your chest.

“Everytime I saw you… healed you after you came back bleeding and bruised…” He murmurs while his fingers fuck into you relentlessly. How are you supposed to process when he’s knuckle deep inside?

“Told myself one day I’d save you. Have you in my arms and away from it all,” he sighs. He kisses just above your chest, his pink lips trail and kiss every place he can reach. “Didn’t want anyone else to ever touch you again. Have you. Because… because…” he trails off strangely, and the mounting pleasure makes you roll your hips back onto his fingers, chasing the press of them as you dizzily respond.

“Because you’re… you’re my ge—ah!” you start to ask, but he bites the juncture of your shoulder just enough to sting and practically rams his fingers into you, harder, faster, like he’s trying to chase away your thoughts and you rasp and quiver against him, helpless to the way he holds you up to take his thrusts and the way your body melts against the sudden onslaught. You drop your head besides his, weak, shaking, somewhere between pleasured and overwhelmed, and he finally relents, drawing his fingers out.

…You already miss the ache.

“Sorry,” he whispers. You think there’s a grain of truth in that apology, but it’s not like you’re really mad… you pull away just a little and he looks beautifully complicated. Those star-filled eyes speaking a thousand words he seems unable to say. Lips parting and closing like he’s torn between repentance and willful damnation.

He kisses your lips, and his gravity loosens as he balances you steady over his lap.

You feel a nudge at your entrance, puffy from the stretch of his fingers. You don’t have to look down, but of course you do anyway. The press of his cock is as intimidating as it is intoxicating.

…Big. To crudely put it.

“Wanna stop?” he murmurs. With that desperate red-faced look, sweat from the steam wetting his forehead and hairs, it must pain him to even suggest. But it means even when he wants so bad, he still wants to take care of you.

Who could want anything more than that?

Your response is to mouth at his lips, bite them gently and draw a soft sigh from Caleb before grabbing his erection yourself — his eyes snap wide open, and with a lack of fluid grace, you sink down.

Okay. Maybe too fast. That stings. The two of you groan at the same time, Caleb’s more of a startled wet sigh while a whimper escapes your lips. You tremble, feeling the stretch of his cock fill you wider, deeper than anything has. Inside. Dammit. Your body opens up for him but you’re shaking as you subconsciously clench around him. Caleb sees the way you’re struggling to take him and strokes your quivering lips.

“Fuck…” Caleb curses. His arms circle around your waist, one warm and one cool now that the water is more lukewarm, left arm cupping your ass. “You feel so perfect. You always do. Knew you would.” he rambles, hips barely keeping still while you adjust. Try to. He’s thick. And deep. And you’re stupidly stuffed full of him but you try moving anyway, just rolling your hips a little.

It rubs deliciously against you. The way you almost immediately, shamelessly start grinding against his cock is probably downright sinful. You let out some whine that has Caleb’s fingers digging slightly into your skin, marks that’ll never last, and there’s the rhythmic sound of splashing and choked whines from you — soft breaths from Caleb as you roll your hips. You steady your hands on the wet planes of his chest, admire his flushed pink skin like it’s the prettiest thing you ever bore witness to.

You squeeze. He breaks out in a half laugh—half sigh, and draws a wet finger against your temple. “Feel good?” He breathes. His eyes flicker up and down, a gentle smirk tugging his lips, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you.

If it felt bad you wouldn’t be moving your hips like it’s the last thing you’ll do. It’s quick and uneven and you just — that spot — when it presses there that pressure and the pleasure make you weak, he’s petting your neck while murmuring things like ‘hot’ ‘perfect’ ‘tight’ but your brain barely filters it past the need. The heat makes you light-headed, but you can’t imagine stopping as small waves ripple around you.

Caleb pulls back a little, cups your face, and angles it so your eyes meet his own, eyes clouded in lust. That look, that stupid ridiculous look makes your hips jerk, small little quick rolls because need flares in your gut.

“Close again? Y’know… you can try moving up and down a little too…” he says, voice soft and sweet like the red citrus fruit he introduced you to a day ago. Grinding against him felt so good, you just…

Your body is suddenly weightless. With an inelegant yelp, for just a moment, you’re lifted off of his cock, and suddenly gravity returns full force and you’re slammed down onto it and a choked, shocked whine leaves your throat when you’re filled all at once. “C…Caleb…”

“It’s so hard to control myself when I’m with you. I always want more… always.” He says, fingers not-so-gently cradling your scalp to his shoulder and bionic arm snug to your waist. His hips twitch up a little and the drag makes you sigh.

“Just a little… I’m going crazy,” he’s so breathy it’s more like a whimper. Cute. Then his hips snap up and drag a yelp from you. His hands cradle you, half in worship, half desperate as his hips thrust up into you easily over and over, bouncing you on his lap and murmuring little soothing sounds as he fucks up into your wet heat.

“A-Ah!” You cry out, and Caleb’s whimpering some reassurances into your neck while he’s fucking with a frantic rhythm, not the slow sweet way he kissed you. Pent up, unable to hold himself back, he pulls nearly all out before sliding in again and again with the splash of water. The way he does it so easily in the water, you wonder if he’s manipulating gravity a little, but his angle shifts just slightly and you fall forward, scrambling to wrap your arms around him, shaking and body twitching around the length of his cock. Little tiny cries leave your throat each time he pounds deep without mercy. Dammit… he can’t just…!

“Caleb—wait—ah-“ you try to articulate, and before you even get a chance to beg him to slow down a little because your mind and body are overwhelmed, he buries himself as deep as he can and you feel a thick warmth filling you. A long string of soft whimpers leave his mouth as his hips twitch up with each swollen throb of his cock, spilling around it and leaking into the water.

“Ngh… Dammit…” he breathes, like he’s reprimanding himself, but you’re too busy clinging to him and shaking to process. Fuck. So fast but you’re already aching.

He just barely stops twitching before his cock drags again, slower now against your sensitive pulsing walls and you nearly sob. He grinds up purposefully, and you grind down in turn, so close, not enough — never enough.

“Sorry. You okay?” He murmurs. He kisses your wet lashes and you slowly nod, lip quivering. You’re wet inside. And out. You rest your sticky forehead on his shoulder and he laughs a little, grinding lazily. He peppers your neck and jaw in kisses in apology. Meanwhile he’s still got you spread out on his cock, and the slow pleasure is near torture.

You… feel really dizzy… but you’re still…

“We’ve been in here too long, huh?” You hear that voice. The only voice you want to hear. Trust. He lifts you easily and the instant cool of the air makes breathing a little easier. You’re a little dazed but Caleb drains the water, grabs two fluffy towels, caries you to the bed wet and all, and gently deposits you onto the soft towel and covers with a little bounce. He kneels beside you, towel in hand to catch most of the stray droplets.

“Better?” he hums. His fingers smooth your lashes, and they soften as you look at him gently. He looks so pretty bathed by the orange sunset from the window. Nothing like those blinding, stiff and unchanging fluorescent lights. Caleb was made to thrive in the outside world, not remain locked in an observation pod.

You nod, inhaling deeply, and Caleb takes it as permission to gently but incessantly spread your thighs and settle in between. His still swollen cock brushes against your own arousal and your hips twitch on instinct. Ugh. A small, annoying smirk appears on his face at that.

For a moment, you think you see a flash of red, but his lips are back on yours and your mind quickly disintegrates to mush. They always leave you breathless and wanting, he kisses you like you’re the most precious thing in existence and you think he is to you as well.

“You know…” he breathes. Pulls away. Is he in pain? You wanna reach up to poke his own furrowed brow, but he gently pins your wrist to the bed instead. “I…” he starts. His mouth parts.

He never finishes his words. Instead, he descends to kiss the bud of your nipple. “We’re in no rush. Why not relax before we need to get in gear again?” He murmurs. The way he grinds down against you, though, you’re pretty sure there won’t be any relaxing anytime soon….

Every pained look. The way he kisses, holds, touches, fucks you like it’s all he has and never will again leaves you with too many questions to ask. For him to spill his pain. Worries. Fears. But he shushes you with the softness of tending to a flower, and replaces your concerns with moans before you get the chance.

It’s like you’re living on borrowed time and he’s determined to make the most of it. You suppose, on this planet, you are. The clock’s ticking until either the rebels or government finds you, whoever comes knocking first. But it’s fine.

You’ll have all the time in the world when you reach paradise.

btw if you’d like, check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, our rp bots are on hiatus but they exist lol! and we chill and rave about the boys! Inclusive and lgbtq+ friendly ofc!

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #xia yizhou #caleb x mc #love and deepspace smut #lnds

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transformersconfessions · 2 days ago

Note

I really love the art in Skybound’s Transformers series. The style feels raw and imperfect in a way that adds so much personality to the characters. I appreciate that it’s not overly clean or focused on perfect lineart.

The way the Transformers transform—sometimes with their parts falling apart—feels alien, almost otherworldly. It's dynamic, full of life. The body language, especially with characters like Optimus Prime and Soundwave, is incredibly expressive, even though they wear masks. You can still feel their emotions through their posture and movement.

I know some people prefer the cleaner art style of IDW, but sometimes I feel like IDW’s focus is more on the fine details of the Transformers’ bodies than on their emotions. It’s like they get caught up in small details, which can leave the characters feeling distant or flat. They often look more like static objects than dynamic beings. The expressions on their faces are sometimes too simple, and the frequent design changes, without any real explanation, can be jarring.

But Skybound’s art? It’s full of energy. There’s so much more emphasis on body language and the emotions behind it. The way they draw the faces of the Transformers, especially in moments of tension or struggle, adds incredible depth. It reminds me of a picture showing the faces of young soldiers before and after war. You can see the emotions, the toll that battle has taken—it's like their history is written in their expressions.

I also really appreciate how Skybound captures the Transformers’ perspective of Earth. The way they show the awe and wonder the Transformers feel when they see the planet, its nature, is beautiful and unique.

And I love how the characters’ bodies aren’t pristine. The dents, the damage—they stay there, showing the weight of the war. It’s not just cosmetic; it feels real. I also like how they sometimes use their bodies so naturally, like when Megatron connects with Laserbeak to see. It’s all integrated into their world in such an authentic way.

Some people call the art "ugly," but I think that misses the point. War is ugly. The dents, the scars, the raw emotion etched into their faces—it’s all right there, laid bare. It’s not clean, stylized violence, it’s messy, visceral, and honest. And that’s what makes the dynamics of the story feel so alive.

#transformers #skybound confession

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yanderes-galore · 3 days ago

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Would it be possible for a romantic yandere concept of ace? I see how he was when dealing with rivals but how would he be???

Well, since I already covered how he deals with rivals... I won't really do it here. I will link it though.

Ace dealing with rivals

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace HCs

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Self-deprecation (Ace), Clingy behavior, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Violence, Mentioned murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Dubious companionship.

Ace, probably the most mature of his brothers, yet also the one with the most baggage.

I like to think Ace, due to his looks and manners, is the most experienced with romantic feelings.

I know that's not canon... but in my mind he seems like he'd have a better understanding of having crushes.

He's never acted on them... yet he understands having desires.

I find Ace interesting as he seems like a confident character due to his power and attitude...

But he's actually very vulnerable when it comes to you.

An important part of Ace's backstory is the fact he questions his existence.

He doesn't understand why he matters or why he exists.

Which often means he makes himself exist for others... such as Luffy or Whitebeard.

So, if Ace fell for someone, I can see him doing everything he can to commit to them.

If he doesn't plan on living for himself... He'll live for another.

You probably don't even see such a side of Ace until later in his obsession.

When you first meet Ace, he's confident and flirty.

You had caught his eye and decided his time would best be spent with you.

At the start, Ace would ignore his feelings.

He doesn't want to admit he has feelings for you.

He views himself as a devil, he doesn't want you associating with a person such as him.

Although, despite such thoughts, it doesn't stop him from coming to see you often.

Ace starts by wanting to protect you... That's all.

He wants to be a friend, he wants to dedicate himself to you...

But it starts more as just him trying to be protective of a new comrade he made.

I can see Ace as either platonic or romantic, yet he takes longer to show romantic feelings.

Maybe months after meeting you... or even a year... his feelings wear him down.

He loves you, no matter how he tries to hide it, so he stops hiding it.

He either shows it through actions by hovering or being overly friendly.

Although, when his confession hits, he tries his best to make it meaningful.

You make him feel wanted... So he's going to make sure you want to stay.

He hates forcing you to love him... yet even though he hates it, I'm not saying it won't happen.

Now, let's properly talk about behavior.

Ace is a protective yandere first and foremost.

He's seen the dangers the sea brings and wants to shield you from them.

You give him something to live for... if he doesn't...

It will devastate him if he loses you.

He has possessive behavior at times, but most of his actions are to protect.

Ace is incredibly affectionate once he gives into his feelings... even expressing some worship yandere behavior.

After all, he feels he isn't worth living for.

You're one of the people who makes him feel like he matters.

The others are his father figure... his brother(s)...

But you're meant to be his love... so how could he not worship you if he's letting you so close to his heart...?

He cuddles you, kisses you gently like you'll break...

He knows he can easily harm or burn you, so he tries to keep calm for you.

A HC I have for Ace is his body is hotter than others.

He can keep you warm with his body heat, which makes him perfect for cuddles.

He may even heat up when he is frustrated.

That's another reason he tries to be calm when holding you... He'd hate to burn you.

While he sees himself as a devil like the rest of the world... He never wants to hurt you.

In fact, he wants the opposite....

He wants to be the one who keeps you from harm.

To the point he's willing to use the power he wields to decimate other people.

Ace does give others a chance to rethink crossing you though.

He starts with words... but we both know what he can do.

This is the same guy who has punched through Marine ships in a blazing inferno.

So... safe to say, Ace takes your safety seriously. (Take a look at his linked HCs)

He's overall smiles, wrapping himself around you as you speak to others.

He can kill, yet has the restraint to hold back enough to talk things down.

He gives others a chance... Nothing more.

In terms of how a relationship goes, Ace is actually great.

He's affectionate, worships you, gives you all the love you could ever ask for...

Until he starts being manipulative.

Like any protective yandere, he gets paranoid.

After all, if Ace dedicates himself to you to the point of obsession...

He isn't going to want to lose you to anyone or anything, right?

He'd probably refrain from kidnapping... at first.

He wants to be honest, he'll vent his worries eventually as he tries to convince you to follow through with his plan of living somewhere with you.

Or, if you're not part of the Whitebeard Pirates, he'll try to convince you to join.

If that doesn't work, if you argue and try to leave him...

Ace may... snap.

He doesn't burn you, although there may be some accidental heat....

He doesn't like to force you... Yet if he's driven by his fear and insecurity...?

He may just get a bit... unstable.

Ace would feel guilty if you hated him.

He tells himself he can smooth it over... but he may never get what he had with you again.

He probably just ruined it for himself.

Maybe you'll get Stockholm Syndrome... yet it makes him feel worse.

He may have you to himself and safe... but if you don't love him?

What's the point?

Overall, Ace is a protective worship yandere.

He's insecure, yet you make him feel complete.

He wants you to love him genuinely...

Yet if it's between losing you one way or the other...

He'll want to keep you in whatever way he can.

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere portgas d. ace #yandere ace #yandere ace x reader

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yuma-mukami-garden-god · 3 days ago

Note

Reiji x s/o that is responsible and mature, basically a mirror of him, who was parentified at a young age and never truly got to be a kid to get to know themselves as a person. They’re the only one that can keep up with Reiji’s rigid expectations, though they often hide parts of themselves they don’t know they had to do it. Overall, a person with people pleasing tendencies that hides their emotions.

Glass Masks

Reiji Sakamaki was a man who demanded excellence—and you delivered it with the same precision and poise he upheld in every breath, every gesture. Where others failed to meet his standards, you never wavered. You rose with the sun, kept the mansion in order, held intelligent conversations, and moved with grace that even he couldn’t help but admire.

He never had to explain himself to you. You anticipated his needs before they were voiced. You understood structure, discipline, and silence better than anyone. To him, you were efficient, composed… perfect.

But perfection came at a price.

You had been parentified young—forced into the role of the caretaker, the fixer, the grown-up while still a child. There was no room for tantrums, no space for vulnerability. You learned quickly that emotions were burdens, needs were weaknesses, and being loved meant being useful. And so, you molded yourself into someone who could survive—then thrive—by pleasing everyone. Even Reiji.

Especially Reiji.

Tonight, like every night, you sat beside him in the library, the only sound being the rustle of pages turning and the soft crackle of fire. You read, back straight, expression unreadable. You could feel his eyes drift to you occasionally, but you didn’t look up. You were tired—bone-deep, soul-tired—but you couldn't show it. He expected refinement. Poise. Composure.

"You're unusually quiet this evening," Reiji remarked, his voice cutting cleanly through the silence.

You smiled politely, the kind of smile that didn’t touch your eyes. "I suppose I’m simply focused."

Reiji narrowed his eyes, and you felt the weight of his gaze fully settle on you.

"You’ve been… reserved, even by your standards. You’re always composed, but tonight it feels almost like you’ve disappeared."

Your fingers clenched slightly around the edge of the book. "I didn’t think you’d notice."

"I notice everything," he replied sharply, setting his own book down. "And I find myself concerned. You hide your emotions so well I doubt you remember how to show them."

You flinched. Not visibly, not enough for most to see—but Reiji saw it.

"I'm fine," you said, and the lie tasted familiar, too practiced.

Reiji stood and crossed the room. You didn’t move, didn’t look up. You could feel something shifting in the air—subtle, but palpable.

“You are exceptional,” he said softly, standing just behind your chair. “More than anyone I’ve ever met. You match me stride for stride, challenge me intellectually, bring order where others bring chaos. But you exhaust yourself to meet standards I never asked you to bleed for.”

You inhaled, just a little too sharply.

"You didn’t have to ask," you whispered. "I needed to be enough. I have to be enough. If I fail… I don’t know who I am when I’m not being useful."

He moved in front of you then, kneeling so you couldn’t avoid his eyes. They were dark and unreadable, but not cold. There was something else in them tonight—concern, maybe. Understanding.

"You are not just useful. You are not a tool or a mirror or a shadow of me," Reiji said, voice lower now. "You are a person. And I fear… you’ve forgotten how to be one."

Your breath hitched, the walls you’d so carefully built trembling under the weight of his words. No one had ever seen you—not really. Not the child who never got to play, the teenager who silenced every cry, the adult who never stopped performing.

"I don’t know how to stop," you admitted, your voice cracking.

"Then let me help you remember." Reiji reached out and took your hand—steady, warm, grounding. "Let’s learn it together."

In that moment, something cracked quietly inside you—not in a way that shattered, but in a way that made room for light.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself cry. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough for the tears to slide down your cheeks, the dam to break. And Reiji didn’t flinch, didn’t scold or lecture. He simply held your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he let you feel.

Not perfectly. But truthfully.

And that… was enough.

#asks open #anon asks #anime and manga #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers #diaboys #dialovers #littlehoeart #reiji sakamaki

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 day ago

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This is in reference to your April 15 response to someone whose friend isn't a big fan of the monarchy. Because of the context, I will start by stating that I am black, though I do not normally start this way. I would like to share my perspective regarding the racism experiences.

Regarding the faced racism Meghan purportedly faced within the institution, I find the evidence presented, to be very disingenuous, and here is why. The unprecedented statement by KP, which raised the issue of race before anyone was aware of who Meghan was or that she was in a relationship with Harry, and if they did know, did not recognize that she was black, suggests that she was not acting in good faith concerning racism. Granted that the controversial blackamoor brooch was indeed insensitive, it could have been addressed internally and there was no need for a hullabaloo. If Meghan had been gracious at this point she would have elevated her stature.

Regarding the conversation about the baby's skin color, given that Meghan expressed her offense in the context of an interview filled with inaccuracies, I find it difficult to take her claims seriously. She did not hear the comment herself, and her account contradicted Harry's, who was the one who actually heard it. Furthermore, in any culture, it is common for people to wonder what a baby will look like, especially a mixed-race baby. In my opinion, which is, of course, subjective, her claim of experiencing racism appears to be a strategy to justify her request for special privileges. It also serves as a defense against criticism for her behavior and provides a rationale for her abrupt departure after such a brief period of time.

Having said that, considering how her thinking appears to be disordered, I can see that when certain boundaries were established and she could not be afforded the same privileges as the Cambridges, she might assume that racism was a factor. I am genuinely trying to see things from her perspective and give her the benefit of the doubt.

Here is something that feeds into my skepticism. I have worked with black children in the USA who, when confronted about their destructive behavior in the space we were using, chose to deflect responsibility by claiming that the reprimand from the white person in charge was due to their race. This occurred despite the individual being very kind and lenient in their response. Accusations of racism can and should be challenged in some cases. Are you seeing what you think you are seeing? Perspective is essential. This way, everyone can reflect on their perceptions and biases and arrive at a better understanding.

With reference to the Lady Susan incident, context is crucial. Two contexts were at play.

The first context involved the blatant attempts by the Sussexes' to undermine the work of the then Cambridges. My suspicions were raised because this was the first day of the Cambridges’ visit to Boston for an important event, accompanied by various activities. After the shenanigans during the Caribbean tour and other deliberate attempts at overshadowing, anything could be expected from the Sussexes' "friends" who had influence with the press. The first question that arose was: how did this individual gain access to such high profile platforms to voice these grievances on this particular day?

The second context was the revelation that Lady Susan attended a predominantly black church.

Although it has been a few years since my visits to those churches in England, I recall that congregants often identified with their foreparents' origins. This is how the people I knew described members of their congregation. There have even been YouTube videos from a predominantly black church in Croydon, where individuals who identified as being from the Caribbean led the singing during one service, and members from different African countries at another times, and so on. Therefore, it did not strike me as unusual that someone who is a member of a predominantly black church would inquire about a black person's origins. Could she have been more tactful? Perhaps. However, surely the individual in question would be aware of these forms of identification among some black individuals in England.

I have attempted to give Meghan the benefit of the doubt, believe you me, but I have come up short. Of course, this is all subjective; however, things are not always what they seem.

I apologize for the length of this message. I couldn't find a way to shorten it. If you prefer not to post it, I completely understand.

On another note, I appreciate the attention you dedicate to these posts - yours and others - and your commitment to fairness and honesty. Thank you.

Thanks for sharing!

Just a quick note - the Lady Susan incident happened in late 2022 so William and Kate were the Waleses then.

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4doras · 1 day ago

Text

NO STRINGS ATTACHED ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

it wasn't right to like haechan, but fighting the urge was impossible ⊹♡

haechan x f.reader

genre. fluff

wc. 1.0k

a/n. been wanting to write something for haechan, ESPECIALLY istj extrovert haechan

all your friends told you it wouldn't be a good idea to get into a relationship with haechan.

everyone knew haechan was trouble. he was the type of boy that parents would tell their daughters that he was no good and to stay away from him, and so did yours. but how could you resist an offer from a guy like him?

more under the cut!

despite his bad reputation, every girl would still follow him around, knowing all he’d do was ruin them.

he wasn’t a heartbreaker, nor a playboy, but a trouble maker. he constantly skipped classes, only making the initiative to come to school so he could go to classes he pleased. he never focused in class, ending up in terrible grades, the highest in his report probably being a C in the classes he actually attended. but you knew he could be smart if he wanted to, he just never took the time to be. he often got into fights, ending up scarred and bruised.

regardless, you decided to approach him, ending up in this mess of a relationship which you liked to call a “close friendship”, though all your friends were sure that you were slowly catching feelings for the boy.

–

“how’re you gonna break it off with haechan?” yizhou asked. she knew you never meant for it to get this far; you never mixed in with the wrong people, even while hanging out with haechan. he was the only one you’d stay with. “look, y/n, i know you like him, or like hanging out with him, i guess, but you can’t keep hanging out with haechan. he’s not good, and you know that.” it felt like she told you this everyday, reminding you of how haechan wasn’t a good person and he’d change you if you didn’t leave him.

“i don’t know, yi. it feels like i can’t leave him, it’s like i’m just being pulled towards him all the time.”

everything he did, the way he cared for you, the way he would always help you, the way he tried to be better around you, trying to not get into fights because he knew you hated it.

“just promise me you won’t do something stupid.” she stared at your empty face, blank with no expression. “i meant dating him. promise me you won’t.” she stuck her pinky out, waiting for you to link yours with hers.

“i promise.” but you knew that you couldn’t keep it.

—

you were sitting next to haechan, helping him finish work he hadn’t finished, like always. you watched as he tapped his pencil on the desk, absent-mindedly staring at his paper.

“haechan, i’ve told you everything you need to know. i know you can do this.” you rested your head on the table, looking him in the eyes as he hunched over his paper.

he looked even more beautiful like this, his hair was messy, lips slightly pouted, and his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than you liked. it made your heart race in a way you didn’t like – you knew you couldn’t date him – it just wouldn’t be right. it wasn’t right to love someone like him, someone who was the polar opposite from you, someone who fought. but you knew that he was trying to change himself, for you.

“you’re really pretty, y/n.” he softly mumbled, eyes still remaining on you.

“stay focused, haechan.” you brought your eyes back to your work, resting your head on your cheek to hopefully hide the growing pink.

“i mean it.”

why did he keep persisting? your chest tightened at every complement he gave you, even the smallest things. but what was worse was that he’d act as if it was nothing just mere seconds after, as if it didn’t mean anything. did it ever mean anything? did he just throw them around?

–

finally, after hours of tweaking haechan’s work until it was good enough, he was done. he was beginning to get drowsy, his words were slurred and muffled.

“y/n, can i stay over tonight? i’m really tired.” he said in a murmur so low you almost couldn't understand him.

“you know my parents don’t let guys stay over.” as much as you wanted him to stay over, you knew your parents wouldn’t allow it. “and you know it took ages for me to convince them to let you just come over.”

“please, y/n. don’t you get it?” he was sitting up straight now, his voice was much clearer, and laced with frustration. he looked at you with squinted eyes, head tilting. “i like you, okay?” he huffed, dropping his hand from his hair. “i like you a lot.” he sighed.

“what? but… why? i’m so different from you, and you know i don’t like how much you get into fights, you know i don’t like it when you skip classes, and you know my friends don’t like us, either.” you weren’t trying to make him feel bad, but hearing yourself, it started to sound like it.

“how couldn’t i like you? you’re perfect, y/n. you were kind enough to approach me, even when people advised you not to. you care for me, even when i do stupid things. you help me with work even though you know i never take the time to even go to class. i don't care that your friends hate me, it can't change my heart, y/n. i’ve tried to leave you, tried to distance myself from you, but it's like some string just leads me to you, and i can’t let it go.” he just looked back at you, eyes full of frustration. not the type that was pinpointed at you, but the fact that he knew he shouldn't like you either.

you couldn’t find the right words to say nor the point you would make. would you talk about how you two weren’t right for eachother? would you talk about your feelings? everything was messing up in your head.

like it was instinct, you kissed him on the lips, wrapping your arms around him. he hesitated, unsure of what just happened, but once he came to his senses, he pressed his lips against yours.

slowly pulling back from him, you finally realised what you just did. you couldn’t take it back anymore, you liked him and you were sure of it.

“i like you too, haechan. probably more than i should.” you said, still holding him close to you.

“i love you more.”

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ahqueinfortunio · 5 hours ago

Text

Babe, Your Butt is a National Threat – A Luke Hughes

You’re lying on the couch, scrolling through Instagram when Luke walks by in just his sweats. And not just any sweats—those grey ones. You glance up casually and then immediately do a double take.

“Oh my God,” you say, sitting up dramatically.

Luke freezes, a spoonful of peanut butter halfway to his mouth. “What? Did I forget to put pants on?”

“No,” you say, pointing an accusing finger. “Your butt. Luke, it’s getting out of control.”

He blinks. “...Thanks?”

“I’m serious!” you jump off the couch, storming over for further investigation. You do a slow circle around him like you’re inspecting a horse at auction. “It’s not fair. I do squats, lunges, Pilates—PILATES, LUKE!—and you just exist and somehow have the glutes of a Greek god.”

Luke, now visibly trying not to laugh, shrugs. “Hockey genes, baby.”

“I demand a butt-off. Right here. Right now,” you declare, already pulling up your leggings like you're suiting up for war.

“You want to compare?” he says, laughing. “You’re insane. This is why I love you.”

“No! Don’t distract me with compliments!” you say, poking him in the chest. “This is serious. If anyone in this relationship should have the better ass, it’s me!”

“Babe, come on,” he says, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. “You know I’m an ass man. And I happen to be madly in love with yours.”

You cross your arms. “Even though it’s not as... aggressive as yours?”

“Hey,” he says, grinning, “Yours is elegant. Mine’s just... powerful.”

“Your ass could solve world hunger. Mine’s barely getting by,” you mutter, but you’re already smiling as he kisses your forehead.

“Want me to wear the grey sweats more often?” he asks, teasing.

“You know what? Yeah. We’re gonna monetize that thing.”

He laughs. “So, only fans for my ass?”

“Don’t tempt me, Hughes. I could fund our next vacation on those cheeks.”

And despite your outrage, you end up cuddled on the couch ten minutes later, head on his chest, scrolling through photos of the two of you. Every so often, you glance at his butt and shake your head.

Some girls get the 6'2" hockey player boyfriend. You got the hockey player and the best butt in the relationship.

You’re still not over it.

It’s been two days since you declared war on Luke Hughes’ glutes, and you’ve been on a mission. Morning squats. Afternoon squats. You’ve even started Googling “How to bulk your butt overnight” like a woman possessed.

Luke, of course, has been zero help. Every time you bend over to grab something, he dramatically whistles and goes, “Looking like a snack today!”—as if he isn’t the entire three-course meal walking around in grey sweats and oblivious hot-boy energy.

Today, though, you’ve got a plan. A revenge plan.

You wait until he’s napping on the couch—arms spread out, hair a mess, wearing those sweats again like a threat. You sneak over with your phone.

“Operation Steal the Peach is a go,” you whisper, activating selfie mode.

You carefully angle the camera to frame his butt in the background like it’s a museum piece, then snap the pic. You add a caption:

My boyfriend’s ass is so good I’m filing a formal complaint.

You’re giggling like a maniac when you hear a voice behind you: “Did you just take a picture of my butt?”

You spin around. Luke is squinting at you, still half-asleep, pillow lines on his face. He looks offended in the way only someone with a god-tier butt can be.

You hold up the phone. “Just trying to keep the world informed.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you post it?”

You pause. “No…”

He snatches the phone, checks your camera roll. “You captioned it?!”

“You should be flattered!” you defend. “It’s iconic. A peach for the ages!”

He stares at the screen, deadpan. “You put the crying emoji and the peach emoji together.”

“To express my emotional pain!”

Luke stares for another beat, then bursts out laughing. “You’re insane.”

“You knew this when you started dating me.”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling you into his lap, “and I’m gonna use this picture as blackmail when you least expect it.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m not afraid. I’ve seen your camera roll too. You’ve got six different photos of my foot from when I fell asleep in socks with sandals.”

He gasps. “That was art.”

You’re both laughing now, tangled on the couch like two idiots in love. He kisses your cheek, still grinning.

“Truce?” he asks.

You sigh. “Fine. Truce.”

Then you add, “But tomorrow? Butt day. And I’m coming for your title.”

Luke raises a brow. “Oh, it’s on.”

Ending Note: You never do beat Luke’s butt. But at least you get to grab it whenever you want. So… who's the real winner?

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl smut

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savyindeepspace · 8 hours ago

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Snowy Getaway ❄️

Tags: fem reader x Zayne, couple, anniversary, slow burn, smut, praise, aftercare, multiple spice scenes, longer read

Description: you and Zayne are celebrating your one year anniversary and he surprises in multiple ways.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Zayne always held a special place in your life. The shy and quiet child you knew since you were nine years old had grown into your closest friend. Zayne became a surgeon by 28 to fulfill what he felt was his life’s purpose. He swore to dedicate his career as a doctor to treat the Protocore Syndrome that plagued your heart after the Chronorift Catastrophe. Having a stern attitude towards your health never overshadowed his gentle touch and kind words. You knew there was warmth within him no matter how cold he appeared to others. Every moment spent in his presence always confirmed your growing desire. Secretly, he always loved you, but expressing emotions wasn’t his strongest trait. You made it easier for him to relax and confidently speak his mind. Now, after a year together, it was time to celebrate your anniversary. Zayne already made plans, but it was gnawing away at you to not know what they were. “Just trust me, love,” he reassured. You did, with your life as a matter of fact, but you were growing restless. “You’ll need clothes for snow, but bring a bathing suit as well,” he instructed. Where exactly was he taking you? Regardless, you packed what you thought was necessary for your getaway, wherever it could be. The last item tucked in your luggage was new lingerie. You admired the suggestive garment that would hopefully be thrown to the floor faster than being on your body. White and silver snowflakes were embroidered on the silky sky-blue fabric, lace details adorned the hem and it was short. When you first tried it on, your ass was barely covered. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips imagining the look on Zayne’s face when he’d slide it off your frame.

•••

Pacing around the living room, you finally felt the vibration of your phone. “I’m in the elevator right now, are you ready?,” Zayne asked. You giggled at his serious tone, “of course, I’ve been waiting on you.” “My apologies, I had a few last minutes reports to file. Now, can you open the door, please?” Just as the call disconnected, a knock echoed through your quiet apartment. Warmth surrounded you as Zayne’s arms tightly hugged your shoulders. You both exhaled sharply, it had been days since seeing each other and now you finally got a weekend to yourselves. Realizing you were standing in the open doorway, you began to pull away from his embrace. The doctor’s biceps flexed and he held you tighter against his chest, “I’m not done yet,” he murmured quietly. Your arms squeeze around his waist and wander up his back. His muscles were prominent and sculpted, even while hidden under his dress shirt. Lightly clawing the fabric, you breathe in Zayne’s scent. Clean and sanitary just like the hospital, but his crisp cologne lingered on his skin as well. He smelled like home regardless of where you were. Finally, you pull away and stare at each other. ‘I missed you’ was evident in your expression. Zayne swept his thumb over your bottom lip, “I missed you too.” You walked to the elevator while he rolled your luggage with his free hand. His BMW was quietly humming outside.

•••

Almost looking deliberately placed, a pamphlet for a cabin in Snowcrest was sitting in the car’s center console. Zayne conducted research there often, but you didn’t know the city doubled as a vacation spot. “Hm, ‘clothes for snow’ makes sense now. Still confused about needing a bathing suit though,” you mumble, buckling your seatbelt. Adjusting his mirrors, Zayne retorts, “it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you why you needed it, right?” You sigh and settle into the leather seat, “I guess you’re right.” Leaving your apartment complex behind, you stare out the passenger window.

•••

The drive was pleasant and quiet, you even slept during the last hour, occasionally hearing classical music fade in and out. Zayne suddenly patted your thigh and spoke lowly, “we’re here, love.” Groaning awake, your eyes take their time to open. It was bright compared to the darkness behind your eyelids. Soft, ivory snow blanketed the ground, trees and rooftop of the quaint cabin in front of you. “Home sweet home. Well, for this weekend at least,” Zayne announced, gesturing to the front door. The view was breathtaking. Sunlight leaked through the tree branches, making the snow appear dusted with glitter and just behind the cabin was a frozen lake. A cold breeze filled your nostrils with the scent of pine needles. “It’s perfect.” Making your way inside, you both stared at the intimate layout of this, according to the brochure, “Lover’s Cabin”. A red, heart-shaped bathtub caught your eye as you walked by the bathroom. Unironically, you could picture yourself in it with Zayne, sat snugly between his knees with bubbles towering past your shoulders. “I don’t know if my legs would even bend properly sitting in that,” he quipped. You poked his waist, “might be worth a try.” His ears reddened and he cleared his throat. Your boldness occasionally caught Zayne off guard, even after all this time.

•••

Unbeknownst to you, he had been there days prior. Stocking the small kitchen with supplies, booking ski lessons and a private day at a couple’s hot spring. You just took his absence as him being occupied with numerous meetings and surgeries. After unpacking, you excused yourself to shower. Once the door clicked behind you, Zayne felt in his coat for a small box. The necklace inside was still safely in place. He knew a proposal would be too early, so this was a promise of his devotion to you until that day came. When the water cut off, he shoved it back into his pocket and sighed nervously. “Everything alright, Zayne?,” you ask from the doorway, blotting your hair with a towel. “Just thought I forgot my toothbrush–found it,” he replied, hanging his coat in the closet.

•••

For the first night, he planned to make dinner and relax before your full itinerary the next day. The scent of dumpling soup wafted throughout the kitchen and dining room, you practically floated to the table from the aroma. A glass of wine was already waiting for you, its bittersweet taste crashed over your tongue like waves with the first sip. The dark red liquid burned your throat as you swallowed, leaving your full lips lightly stained. Zayne set down two full bowls and pulled out your chair before sitting across from you. “So, how long were you actually planning all of this?,” you prodded, bringing a spoonful of broth to your lips. The perfectly combined flavors poured over your taste buds, the dumplings were tender and savory. A satisfied chuckle vibrated from his chest, “just a few days, I’m happy to see you’re enjoying it so far.” Sipping your wine again, you squint at him over the rim of the glass. What else did this sly man have up his sleeve? After dinner, you lazily sank into the plush comforter on the bed, then rolled onto Zayne’s chest. Heat radiated off you like a furnace. The touch of the man beside you made your skin tingle as his hands traced light patterns on your back. Soft, lengthy ministrations caused your eyes to close, but not from tiredness. Arousal started to bloom between your legs and goosebumps prickled across your skin. Zayne’s fingertips ignited the flames in your core and having him alone–uninterrupted, only made that sensation harder to ignore.

•••

His heart rate thrummed wildly when your leg suddenly swung over his waist. He slid his large hand up your thigh, squeezing the flesh possessively. “Zayne…,” you whisper, wine lingered on your breath “I have something to show you.” You rose from the bed and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The lingerie you were dying to wear cascaded over your body like a waterfall, its silky material hugged your curves with tailored perfection. Patiently waiting for your return, Zayne froze as you appeared in his sight again, relaxed against the door frame. His eyes were wide and he stuttered, words trapped like a fly in a web. You sauntered to the edge of the bed, eyes lidded with lust. Your hands and knees dug into the mattress as you crawled toward him like a feline stalking her prey. His posture straightened against the headboard, calm breaths transformed into desperate panting. He was drinking in the vision of you. The way your back arched, skin glowed from the fireplace and cleavage spilled over the neckline of your night gown was enough to spike his blood pressure.

•••

Straddled on his lap, you laced your arms around Zayne’s neck. “Surprise,” you purred in his ear, tracing the lobe with your tongue. His breath hitched and hands latched to your waist, long fingers curling into the satin. “It looks like I wasn’t the only one planning something,” he exhaled, his cool breath blew loose hair away from your neck. Damp lips suddenly pressed to your skin and your body melts. Your long awaited hunger was finally being satiated. Tilting your head back to allow for more pecks, Zayne’s mouth lingered at your collarbone, teasing you with a gentle nibble. A whine escapes you, “mm, more…please,” your hips began to roll slowly against his bulge. He held you down firmly, rocking upwards to provide more friction, “shit…” Your fingers raked through his black hair, gripping the locks at the root. Wetness started to run down your legs. The satin gown rubbing against your breasts made your nipples harden, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric. Zayne’s erection became stiffened as it ground against you. Working open the buttons of his shirt, your breathing became ragged, desperate. “Ssh relax–,” he restrained your wrists gently, finishing the last of his buttons. Your freed hands ran down his bare chest and abdomen, flinching slightly when you feel the cool metal of his belt buckle.

•••

Zayne leaned forward and captured your lips in a chaste kiss, his tongue tangled with yours. You moaned into his mouth and tried to remove the belt impatiently. His hands layered over yours to assist in the process. Finally the sound of metal clicked from his waist and you pull the leather restraint from his pant loops. Zayne groaned deeply when your hand cupped his hardness. The heat coming off his clothed cock was enough to scorch your palm. Steady hands grazed up your sides underneath the lingerie, “as beautiful as you look in this, I’d like for it to come off now,” he whispered. You meet his gaze and nod, raising your arms up. The night gown glides off your curves hastily and falls to the floor. A harsh breath catches in your throat when the sensation of Zayne’s tongue swept over your nipple. Him kneading the flesh of your breast and sucking the overstimulated peak made your eyes roll back. A wet spot began to spread on his unbuttoned pants from your needy writhing. With his other hand, Zayne feathered his fingertips through your soaked folds before plunging inside. “So wet, already,” he growled. You whimper, grinding greedily against his slender digits.

•••

“Zayne…I want more, please,” you beg. His arm ropes around you and you’re swiftly positioned on your back. “Only because you said please,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. You sigh, hands fisting the sheets at either side of your hips. Zayne left a trail of wet kisses down your stomach. He paused at your hips and sunk his teeth into the skin, earning him a broken moan. “Mmm,” he moaned, ghosting his lips randomly on your inner thighs. Your back began to arch off the bed but was held down by Zayne’s strength. “No squirming,” his breath teased at your entrance. A languid swipe of his tongue over your pussy made you whine. You cry out again and again as he shatters your nerves with his mouth. His handsome nose bullied your clit to reckless abandon. Each lick, suck and rub against your aching sex rendered you weak. “Should I continue?” Zayne asked, lapping away at your essence. “P-please,” you beg, looking at him through hooded eyes. His lips, wet and glistening stretch into a lustful grin.

•••

Zayne bent down to kiss you again, your unique taste mixed with remnants of wine melted on your tongue. The sound of rustling fabric filled the room as any remaining clothing abandoned his lower half. He grabbed the backs of your knees and locked both legs around his waist. “Eyes on me,” his command was gentle, yet firm. Slowly, the tip grazed your entrance, making you mewl impatiently. “Ssh, almost there,” he soothed. Zayne filled you entirely, grunting softly when he bottomed out. “Ooh god…,” you gasp, nails dug into his back, leaving small indents behind. He steadily slid his cock in and out, hazel eyes studying your pleasured expression. Your walls squeeze his length and the man above you shutters. “If you keep doing that I’ll–nng!,” he almost collapsed trying to maintain his composure. You clenched again purposefully, hoping it would elicit more strokes from him. Granting your silent plea, his hips began to rock aggressively. “Yes, yes Zayne! Please don’t stop!,” you cry. Your breathing became uneven as the coil in your gut wounded tightly, just waiting to snap.

•••

A bruising kiss muffled your pleasured sobs as Zayne’s hips erratically slapped against you. The intense friction was invigorating and you felt your climax bubbling like a geyser. Sweat misted your skin like morning dew, making it glow under the dim lighting. “Cum for me, please,” Zayne instructed, tenderly cradling your cheek. You took his hand and put two fingers in your mouth, sucking the salty skin and remnants of your wetness. He retrieved his hand and began to rub torturous circles on your clit. “Mm–don’t stop, baby. Please…,” you moan, rolling your hips to match his pace. Simultaneously you increase the momentum, bated breathes thickened the air between you. The coil finally broke as Zayne shoved himself deep, pushing you into a mating press. Your orgasm explodes and you cum messily, “Zaaayne!,” you scream. Hearing his name shrieked so desperately was enough for him to falter. Zayne’s climax followed, pouring his release into your throbbing center. His body trembled as he slowly pulled out and you whine at the emptiness that followed.

•••

Your spent bodies collapse onto the bed, chests still heaving. Soft kisses trail from the back of your hand, up your forearm, “I love you,” Zayne professes. You stroke his rosy cheek with your thumb, “I love you, more.” Sleep crept over you and your bodies moulded together. The sound of soft breathing was the only noise made throughout the night as snow silently fell outside the window.

~*~*~*~

Sunlight filtered through the shear drapes. Zayne’s body intertwined with yours as he held you against his chest. The faint chirping of birds acted as a natural alarm and you opened your eyes. Running your finger over Zayne’s features, you admired his sleeping face. His body stirred to your touch and you felt strong arms tighten around you like vines. “Good morning,” he murmured into the crook of your neck. You ran your fingers lazily up his back, “morning.” The sanctuary that was your king size bed could ensnare you for the entire weekend, but you had to be at your ski lesson by ten A.M. After a quick shower and breakfast, you dressed in layers and waited patiently for Zayne to pull up the GPS route. Admittedly, you were a bit rusty when it came to skiing but you felt more confident knowing your big snowman would be there to catch you if you fell. Stomping your way through ankle-deep snow, you both met with the ski instructor and got acquainted. “Is this your first time?,” she asked buckling your foot into each ski. “He’s more experienced than me, I haven’t been in years,” you reply, meeting Zayne’s gaze. He braced his hands on your shoulders, “you’ll do great.”

•••

Sitting side by side on the lift, your thighs pressed together nervously. Being a Hunter meant you faced harsh trials frequently, but being this high made your stomach churn. Sensing your unease, Zayne squeezed your gloved hand. Your tense muscles loosened and you leaned into him. “We’ll need to jump soon, are you ready?” As much as you wanted to say no, adrenaline began to surge through your veins. 3, 2, 1…landing in the powdery snow, you soared down the mountain, chilled wind biting at your cheeks. Keeping your knees softly bent, you weaved back and forth with grace. Zayne followed closely behind and couldn’t help but smile to himself watching you race to the bottom. Your pulse drummed loudly in your ears as you were nearing the end of the course. Remembering the instructions from earlier, you pivot your body abruptly, skis kicking up a misty wall of ice. A harsh breath rips from your mouth and you collapse from exhaustion. “Hey–are you alright?,” Zayne asked, his voice laced with concern. “Ah!?,” taking him by surprise, you yank him on top of you. His nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold and you giggled at his annoyed expression. “I’m great! Who knew that muscle memory would return after all this time?,” you exclaim. Zayne’s face relaxed and he joined in your laughter, “I’m proud of you. I knew you could do it.” You laid in the snow a while longer, watching delicate flakes descend from the sky. After warming up with a cup of cocoa, you headed to your next destination.

•••

The car crawled up winding hills lined with towering trees. Finally a sign came into view that read ‘Historical Snowcrest Hot Springs’, just what you needed to defrost your chilled bones. “Welcome in, your name for the reservation?,” a receptionist greeted. “Zayne Li, for the private hot spring, please.” Well, you knew why you needed your bathing suit now, but you didn’t expect to have privacy as an added bonus. You and Zayne were given robes, slippers and towels before being directed to separate changing rooms. You shimmy into your bikini and meet him outside. Steam rose off the water, creating transparent clouds of mist against the cold air. Zayne’s back faced you, the deep hot spring surrounded his shoulders. You sank in slowly beside him and he turned to watch you. A relieved exhale leaves you as the hot water engulfed your body. “You keep surprising me, Dr. Zayne,” you said, laying your legs over his lap. His arm looped around your waist, “After a full day of skiing, we definitely need to relax, doctor’s orders.” You didn’t anticipate any of this, but you were overflowing with gratitude. Every detail about this trip was thoroughly executed and you knew only Zayne could plan something this spectacular.

•••

You kissed him, tangling your fingers in his damp hair. “Thank you for everything. I’ve never known happiness like this before being with you.” He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, “of course, you should know how happy you make me as well.” Your gazes linger for a moment before your eyes fall to Zayne’s lips again. “You know, we have this entire hot spring to ourselves. No one will walk in on us,” Zayne whispers, his eyes were framed by his dark lashes and glossed with mirth. “Zayne!,” pink blush flooded your cheeks. Before you could scold him further, your lips were captured in a sensual kiss. Zayne’s hands traveled down, firmly squeezing your ass. A gasp bursts from your mouth when you felt his teeth graze your throat. The spring water’s temperature suddenly felt hotter around you. “I want you—,” he rasped, “now.” Your bodies were pressed against each other and his hands bared down on your hips. He rocked you back and forth, the friction elicited quiet moans from your lips. “M-mm..,” you failed to speak as you ground greedily against his growing hard-on. “More?,” he asked, holding your hips still. “Please,” you whine breathlessly.

•••

Loosening his grip, he rewarded you with a harsh roll into your core, “good girl.” You laced your arms around him, “are you sure we’re alone?” Zayne leaned in to kiss your neck, “mhmm, promise.” The tie around your neck loosed between his fingers and your top fell, exposing your breasts to the chilled air. You pressed against Zayne’s chest for warmth and writhe your aching sex into him. He kissed down your shoulder and across your collar bone, “hold on tighter,” he instructed. You brace against him and he leaned back into a more comfortable position. “I can see your face better this way,” his voice was low and hungry. Biting your lip, you began to move your hips faster, “Zayne…mmn.” His fingers clawed at the waistline of your bikini, slowly making their way to the ties on each hip. “Off?,” he whispered. “Yes…please..,” you breathe. Your bottoms slipped off with precision. Zayne threw them to the side before returning his grip to your waist. He kissed you slowly, as if to memorize the curve of your lips. his tongue swirled around yours, writing poems on the insides of your cheeks.

•••

“Please, let me taste you,” you plead. Zayne complied and sat on the ledge, his eyes bored into you as you lowered into the water. Nestled between his thighs, waist deep in the hot spring, you kiss from his navel to the tip of his cock. You held him at the base and ran your tongue along the veiny underside, slowly stroking him with one hand. “Touch yourself, too,” he commanded. Looking up at him, mouth full, you pressed two fingers against your swollen clit. The first rub makes you moan against him and Zayne’s body tenses. “That feels…so good,” he praised between ragged breaths. You bobbed up and down, making a mess on his lower abdomen. His hands palmed your wet hair, gently pushing you further down. “You’re taking me so well, just a little more,” he purred before releasing your head. Zayne pulled you up into his lap and kissed you sloppily, barely giving you a chance to breathe. The tingling between your legs still lingered from your own ministrations.

“Ride me..,” he growled. Using his shoulders for support, you positioned yourself and slid down slowly. Zayne filled you even deeper than the night before. He gasped when you reached the bottom, “god, so warm. Just let me feel you for a bit.” You desperately wanted to grind, to bounce, anything. “Zayne..,” the lack of movement became unbearable and you were losing patience. Zayne took your hands in his, “slowly...” Your hips rose and sank, feeling the length of his cock against your walls made you weak. “Mmmm. Can I please go faster?” His hands scooped under your ass and pulled you close, pumping into you at an agonizing pace.

•••

Pressure was building in your core from Zayne’s heavy thrusts. Your eyes locked onto his dazed expression, he was absolutely drunk with lust. The way your pussy accepted him deeper with every stroke was a reminder that this was where he belonged. His face glistened with sweat and when you kissed the taste of salt lingered on your lips. Suddenly he lifted you off his lap, “turn around,” Zayne flipped you over, your hot skin stung against the cold earth. A hiss rips from your teeth and you claw at the ground, searching for anything to hold. Warm fingers spread you open and you’re reintroduced to the inches that filled you so perfectly. Zayne’s solid abdomen slapped roughly against your ass, sending ripples through each cheek. Both of his palms pressed into the small of your back, “fuck,” thrust “you feel,” thrust “amazing,” his tip tapped your cervix as he dug into you. “Zayne…I-I’m gonna—,” one last shove and your orgasm spills over. Chills spread through you and goosebumps bud on your skin. “Ah–mmm!,” broken moans and sobs are all you can muster as the friction begins again. Zayne’s movements became erratic as he chased his climax. He gripped your hips firmly, pulling you into him as he dug deeper and deeper. “Fuck baby, I can’t hold back anymore,” you felt a sudden emptiness as he pulled out. Messily stroking himself, he gasped for air as he came on your back, his warm release pooled in the valley of your spine.

•••

You felt a heavy weight against you as Zayne’s body collapsed. He peppered kisses down your neck and between your shoulder blades. The soft texture of a towel smoothed over your skin as he cleaned you up. You hummed softly and faced your lover. His skin was flushed and glowing, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “you look so beautiful.” The sky was painted a blend of orange and red as the sun began to set. Changing out of your robe, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your face looked radiant, the post-sex glow was apparent and you giggled, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t make any comments. “Thank you for coming!,” she said as you walked out the door, you and Zayne glance at each other and smirk. The drive back to the cabin wasn’t rushed. Stars brightly twinkled in the sky and you admired the view before the heavy weight of sleep conquered your eyes.

•••

You woke up on the couch under a flannel blanket. Zayne was in the kitchen making dinner again, this time you smelled braised meat and roasted vegetables. He stood over the counter and you quietly walked behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re awake,” he hummed. His skin smelled faintly of body wash and cologne as you nuzzled into his back. “I’m not sure what made me so tired,” you teased. A small chuckle rattled his frame, “well if you need help sleeping again, I know just what to do.” You pinch his sides and withdraw from his warmth. “Can I help with anything? It smells delicious in here.” Zayne gestured to a bottle of champagne, “could you open that, please?” Holding the bottle over the sink, you released the cork with a loud pop and white foam poured over your fingers. You walked to the dining room and filled two champagne flutes, looking over the candle lit table setting. Zayne placed your plate down and moved behind you, pulling out your chair. You watched him walk to the other side, his hand was resting over his pants pocket. “I feel so spoiled,” you said looking into Zayne’s hazel eyes. His sharp features were softened by the candlelight, so handsome and gentle. “Well, one year anniversaries only happen once, I wanted this to be special,” his voice was soft and earnest. “It is. You’re special too,” you profess. Blush dusts his cheeks and he clears his throat, “thank you.”

•••

You both return to the couch, Zayne hands you your champagne, “cheers to one year,” he pauses, “and to many, many more.” Your glasses clink and you sip together, his face twists from the bitter taste. “You don’t have to drink that y’know,” you laugh. “I thought I’d try. Although, I wouldn’t want a repeat of the chocolate incident,” he said setting his glass on the table. You smile at the memory of that night, taking care of a very drunk, stubborn Zayne who wouldn’t take his hangover pills. He takes your hands in his, his expression was serious. “I have something else to say…I want to spend the next decade with you. If it were possible, I’d spend centuries by your side. I don’t want to lose you.” Your chest grew tight, “you’ll never lose me.” A the lump formed in your throat after hearing his confession. “Close your eyes,” Zayne instructed, “and lift your hair for me.” Moving away the strands from your neck, you felt a cool sensation against your skin. Zayne clasped the necklace he had been so desperate to see lay on your chest. The delicate gold chain was weighed down by a sapphire pendant in the shape of a jasmine flower. On the back, a small engraving of the date was carved into one of its petals. A single tear rolled down your cheek, “it’s beautiful, thank you.” He brushed his thumb over your skin, “you won’t have to water this one, it will always be in bloom.”

•••

Your lips melted into his, the kiss was long and slow, a promise of devotion that didn’t need words. Zayne pressed his forehead to yours, letting your breaths mingle. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears when his lips met yours again and again. He held you so close that you felt his pulse thrumming in tandem with your own. “I’ll always be by your side,” you whispered in his ear and kissing the lobe lightly. Zayne’s body relaxed to the sound of your voice. Taking your wrist in his hand, he pressed your palm to his chest, “until it stops beating and even after that, my heart will always belong to you.”

•••

The weekend was over and you felt reluctant to return home. ‘Home’. That word had a new meaning since you weren’t alone this time. Home was where he was and that was right beside you. Forever.

~*~*~*~

End.

Readers note: thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed!! :)

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