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cloudwisp · 18 days ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 · 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

contents: smut (18+ minors dni). you accidentally walk in on him naked once and he’s all that occupies your mind. childhood friends to lovers. temporary housemates. brief voyeurism. masturbation. fingering. overstimulation. unprotected sex. implied multiple orgasms. he’s actually sweet just a little domineering. pipsqueak + princess pet names. 3.6k wc.

You’re temporary roommates with Caleb while your housing situation gets sorted out. The Hunter’s Academy was experiencing an issue with its database and your move-in date had been postponed so your room could be properly arranged. In the meantime, Caleb was generous enough to lend a spare room in his apartment. Sharing the same space with him brought back nostalgic memories of your upbringing, and having his presence around gave you comfort that he’s still the same Caleb you know and love. Him preparing breakfast and dinner was always appreciated when you didn’t have to lift a finger, he’d even pack your lunch to keep you nourished and prevent you from skipping meals given your hectic schedule. Sometimes there’d be light roughhousing play between you and him, all in good nature like the fond memories of your shared childhood.

The more time you spend with Caleb, you slowly encounter situations with him that have never happened before in a domestic setting. You suppose that being adults now, with the distance and years apart pursuing different careers, there are bound to be changes and new habits. For instance, you notice how comfortable he is around you—or maybe you can even say careless. With the bathroom door cracked open, you think nothing of its vacancy and enter only to have steam obscure your vision and a very naked Caleb before your eyes. Normal people would have the door locked when entering the shower, and now you accidentally caught a glimpse of his flaccid dick moments before he wraps himself with a towel snug around his waist.

“Oh, Erm… Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here already.” You avert your gaze and your cheeks feel warm while Caleb remains nonchalant, staring at you before letting a boyish smirk spread on his face. You feel his hand on the crown of your head as he walks past you, sparing you from his usual teasing since it's the early morning even though he could imagine the adorable flustered mess you’d become.

“Heh, try to pay attention next time, pipsqueak. Shower’s all yours.” Caleb’s muscular back is the last thing you see with water droplets forming on the ends of his damp hair before you close the door shut. After moving the shower handle valve to your preferred temperature, your clothes cascade and bunch around your feet and you clear your mind of the embarrassing encounter as water rushes down your skin. Accidents like this happen at least once in a lifetime and there’s no need to get hung up on it. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

There’s a sense of normalcy when you wander into the kitchen once you’re dressed for the day. Caleb had already prepared a simple breakfast, and he gestured that your plate was on the dining table while he sat on the couch overlooking some course material. He’s a dangerous distraction when you situate yourself and take a small bite of a rabbit-sliced apple, glancing at his manspread in those gray sweatpants and you could almost perfectly make out the outline of his natural bulge the longer you stared.

You swallow hard and lewd thoughts infiltrate your mind when he shifts his thigh slightly outwards, almost beckoning you to have a seat in his lap. The snap of his laptop draws you out of your reverie and you flinch at the sound before you can properly react and there’s a delayed smile gracing his lips as he studies your face. You’ve been made and you curse yourself for being so easily swayed over a carnal craving and toward your childhood friend no less.

You pretend to busy yourself and focus on your plate at hand. “Haven’t you learned that it’s rude to stare? You’re just the same as always, pipsqueak.” Caleb chuckles softly, taking his seat across from you and starts to enjoy his breakfast. As though you weren’t feeling bad enough, he fuels your embarrassment. “By the way, your… uh, lace panties got mixed up with my laundry. The color’s light blue, was it? Guess there’s always something new to learn about you.”

You almost choke on your saliva when he’s brazen about your intimate undergarments, and you feel like he’s being insufferable on purpose when he could’ve silently returned your item and avoided this awkward conversation. “Oh? Well, that’s my mistake. I’ll be more careful next time so it doesn’t happen again.” You suppose that he always enjoyed poking fun even at your expense, but the sly innuendos were definitely new. And you hope the pending email about your dorm situation arrives sooner so you can forget about this particular morning altogether.

After finishing up breakfast and collecting your belongings for the academy, you and Caleb respectively go about your day attending lectures and training courses. However, your focus lies somewhere else as a certain aerospace engineering student crosses your mind countless times for it to be considered normal. You never thought about him that way before, and you’re certain it’s because of the dry spell you're experiencing. But when your mind drifts back to him, your thighs clench together at any suggestive scenarios before burying the very idea into a grave with the same swiftness.

Even with the constant internal battle with yourself, walking through Caleb’s apartment door once the skyward hearth welcomes the night made you feel somewhat apprehensive. However, your concern quickly dissipated when he acted as though everything before this morning was an ephemeral dream long forgotten. Dinner was surprisingly pleasant as you both conversed about the events of the day outside of your shared home. Of course, there was a moment of weakness where you’d catch yourself staring at his lips a heartbeat too long, and something akin to yearning springs within your chest.

Whether you realize it or not, Caleb has always been a chronic observer whenever it comes to you. Even your subtle hints weren’t as discreet as you believed them to be, and it only contributes to the pent-up frustration when you both retire back to your bedrooms. Not being able to have you and explore these anchored feelings makes him feel hopeless in his deep sense of longing. Maybe you still perceive him as the same kindhearted boy from your childhood and not the capable man he’s become today. The kind of man that can be everything that you need him to be.

As the night deepens, restless sleep prevents Caleb from catching some shut-eye and he’s quiet in his footsteps down the corridor for a glass of water in the kitchen. When he moves past your enclosure, something causes his ears to perk as though a siren’s calling unto him. His eyes widen a fraction and he feels blood rushing with a twitch of his cock. The pretty noises coming from your mouth as he leans closer against the wall make him question his senses. Were you touching yourself at this late hour? Naughty girl. And yet his pants grow increasingly tighter by the second, his mind racing to connect your moans with your movements.

“Mmh—hah. C-caleb…!” You gasp softly as your fingers continue their motions on your sensitive bud, a low groan escapes his throat from how perfect you sound with his name on your tongue. His jaw tightens as he holds himself back, but his self-restraint wanes when he’s the reason for your breathless sighs and cute whimpers. Without warning, your building orgasm gets rudely interrupted and fades when he peers into your room after twisting the doorknob. Perhaps you should’ve taken your advice from earlier this morning and made sure to lock it before commencing such activities.

“Caleb—!” You shriek out and half-heartedly cover yourself with the comforter pulling yourself into an upright position, and the nickname he has reserved for you is quite befitting even for a moment like this. He can discern your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes from the gentle gleam filtering in through the window, and he stares at you for a few more seconds before fully treading inside and closing the door behind him.

“Don’t stop on my account, princess.” You can feel the heat of his gaze trailing down your disheveled yet maddeningly beautiful form. The pearl opalescence streams kiss your vulnerable parts, making you appear even more heavenly. Caleb moves and dips his weight on the edge of the bed, sharing some of his warmth as his knuckles trace your bare leg before locking eyes with you. “What were you thinking about that got you so worked up?”

You’re rendered speechless as you shy away from his touch. He withdraws his hand planting it beside him on the soft cushion. “Shouldn’t you knock first before entering?” Your voice sounds small but it’s everything you can muster given the situation and you avoid his gaze as you pose your next concern. “…Did you hear something just now?”

“You were making so much noise that I wanted to check in on you.” He chuckles softly, “Couldn’t get me out of your head, huh?” You feel your stomach drop after hearing his words and shame prickles at your skin. Of course, nothing gets past Caleb even when you both were young children and you pull your knees to your chest hiding your mortification and face along with it. “All it took was just that little moment to get you thinking about me so much.”

He wasn’t wrong in his statement, and you hate that you’re not alone in your thoughts when he recalls the encounter of him wrapped in a towel this morning. It had completely seared into your memory, leading you to act on your impulses to solve your sexual frustrations. You’d envision the feel and appearance of his cock hardening as you handle him, how he would tease you gliding his tip along your clit and entrance, the hot and heavy breathing when his mouth’s beside your ear. “Ugh, just please stop talking. Can’t you see I’m already embarrassed enough as it is?”

“Not a chance.” The gentle pats on your head encourage you to come out of hiding, which happens to lessen your discomfort. He always had a way of soothing you, and you allow him to caress your cheek before he continues to speak. “I’ve been holding myself back for a while now since I was never sure if you felt the same way. But now that I know you do… let me take care of you. Will you let me do that?“

Through your parted lips, words get stuck in your throat at his long-awaited confession. All you could think about was how the nature of your relationship would completely shift. But you suppose there had always been telltale signs with Caleb yet you glossed over every indication because he’s your childhood friend and you convinced yourself otherwise. “I didn’t know you’ve been holding onto these feelings.”

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s been years in the making.” He offers you a sincere smile, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes close at the comforting gesture, Caleb loving you a little more than you realized starts to resonate in your mind and that opens your heart to him. You feel a slight coolness and a realm of muted purple radiance and cerise hue fills your vision. “Can I…?” He whispers quietly and the notion elicits a small nod from you.

Caleb’s gentle and deliberate in his actions as he moves to alight your lips for a soft embrace. He places his hand around the side of your neck, thumb tracing along your face's sharp contour and guiding you to lay on your back. Sweet and tender in the way his tongue teases your bottom lip for more, deepening the kiss that breaks emotional barriers and makes him feel closer to you. Your sighs turn into muffled surprise when he clasps your hand and together he makes a slow descent to where your cunt weeps for him.

A glistening string of saliva connects you and him when he separates for you both to breathe. “Show me how you like it, princess.” It’s a silent command for you to touch yourself, and he loves the cute expression you’re making at his words. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and sheepishly turn your head away from him, though it’s futile when he returns your focus back on him. “Don’t get all shy on me now. I want to know what makes you feel good, please?” The last syllable comes off as a sweet murmur.

“Don’t look too closely… okay?” He can detect the reserved tone in your voice and kisses your nose before straightening himself and pushing the blanket aside until you’re completely laid bare to him. He appreciates your soft curves and smooth skin, a low hum reverberates from his chest when you spread your legs wider and a primal desire for you rises between his groin. He observes your nimble fingers pleasure your clit in small circles to get yourself off, though your arm covers your face from the vulnerable intimacy in your wave of bashfulness.

“You don’t have to hide yourself around me. You look beautiful.” He captures your hand and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles and your breath quickens when that same hand lowers to still your movements. His fingers press against yours to rub the sweet spot before you retract yours and he fully assumes control. The pressure makes your hips squirm from the delicious friction and a wanton moan slips when he delves his tongue to explore your mouth again.

Caleb marvels at the feeling of your wetness when two fingers stroke your entrance, he collects some of your slick and continues to rub your bundle of nerves in languid motions. Your arms coil around his neck, tugging him closer and tilting your heads as you lose yourself from tasting him until the burning embers dim and you’re both rendered breathless. He uses this chance to litter kisses along your jawline and warmth spreads down to your neck, a gentle nip at your pulse point before moving further below to your chest and he welcomes your hardened bud into his mouth after a salacious swirl of his tongue.

“Mmh, need to feel your fingers inside me… need more. Please, Caleb?” When you beg so sweetly like that he wouldn’t dream of denying your request, even when his mind spirals with thoughts about your cute mewls and whines in his pursuit to test your limits. Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself because he wants tonight to be nothing short of special for the both of you. He’s waited too long and he’s earnest in his intentions for this moment to be perfect in every sense of the word.

“Of course, princess. Your wish is my command.” You can hear the smirk bleed into his voice when he answers you even in your state, and your breath hitches drastically when he stretches you with two fingers. He considers your bodily reactions while he searches for a rhythm that elicits the pretties sounds from you. “So perfectly tight… You need this, don’t you? Need me. Just like I need you.” He keeps two knuckles deep, massaging something soft and almost spongy that causes your back to arch beautifully.

“Mm, yeah right there—so good.” He feels you tense and convulse underneath him when he palms your clit in tandem with his fingers still driving inside you. With your climax fast approaching, you gasp suddenly and attempt to push his hand away when the sensation starts to overwhelm you. “Caleb, I’m gonna—it’s too much!” He doesn’t relent even when your grip around his wrist tightens and you cry for him to ease down from his movements. Your thighs squirm and squeeze his forearm as your walls clench around his fingers and only then does he subside after he’s satisfied with the mess you’ve made between your trembling legs.

“That’s my good girl.” You’re turned on your side as you regain some semblance of composure while the euphoric high ebbs and you feel him lay the softest kiss on your forehead. Your gaze never leaves him when he undresses himself, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his gorgeous physique and his muscles flex under the moonlight as his thumb curls beneath the waistband of his sweats and he discards it. Your mouth salivates when his aroused cock commands your attention, and it’s almost as you imagined except you underestimated its sheer length and girth. But it makes sense when he’s standing before your eyes with the rest of him.

“Think you’re ready for me?” He smears the pre-cum over his tip and gives himself a few pumps before he moves above you after readjusting your position. He sweetly pecks your lips and you feel him caress your waist then hoist your thigh and push the underside toward your chest to spread you apart. Your other leg follows suit to make room for him and he aligns himself along your heat after moving back, the length of his member runs through your folds drawing a pleased hum from you.

“Now that I have a closer look, it’s actually kind of cute. Just like you.” Your fingers bump with his, reaching to feel his pulsing shaft and you stroke him delicately while propped on your elbow. The scent of lust shrouds him when he watches you for a moment, the way your fist applies just the right amount of pressure makes him groan from how much smaller your hand is in comparison.

“Heh, cute? That’s an interesting way to put it.” You feel his balls swell against you when he measures how deep he would sink into your pretty cunt by unabashedly resting his heavy cock on your navel. Your clit throbs when he extends just under your belly button and you anticipate the feeling of him fucking you and rearranging your guts. “I wonder if you’ll say the same afterward.”

You tuck your lower lip between your teeth and glance up at him, subconsciously gripping the sheets from the thought of taking him and how tight a fit it will feel in your mental preparation. “Promise me that you’ll go easy?”

He presses forward and seals the promise with a kiss. “Gentle, I can do that. But what do I get in return?” An elongated moan escapes you when he breaches your entrance, the burning sensation causing you to burrow your head into the pillow with furrowed brows and a slacked jaw. His hand intertwines with yours for a small squeeze to help ground you as the head of his cock teases you with shallow thrusts. “You’ll let me make it worth your while? Let me do what I want with you.”

Your adorable whines receive a chuckle from him and he slides deeper. “That’s not really an answer, princess. Use your words for me.” He loves how honest and expressive your writhing body is when swept up from the pleasure and he’s barely getting started with you. You feel him pinning your hips to the bed to keep you still as he pushes further into you with a guttural moan. It’s taking every ounce of his willpower to not lose himself in fucking you senseless with how soft and pliant you are underneath him.

“Yes—! Need more… Want to feel you deep inside me. Please fuck me, Caleb!” You feel so perfect when he buries his face into your neck with a strained groan in the last stretch and meets your cervix for a desperate kiss. The fullness makes your head spin uncontrollably and you tug his hair when you feel him dragging every subtle raised vein and thick head against your walls. His pace is sensual and unhurried until he feels the tension leave your body to ensure you’re enjoying this with him. Heat coils inside your stomach and you inhale sharply when his fingers coax your clit for you to cream around him. “W-wait, when you touch me like that…”

“Didn’t you say I’m in charge now?” A devious smirk rests on his lips when your canines sink into his shoulder, leaving an imprint of your mark that will serve as evidence tomorrow as he continues to pummel into you. You think it’s unfair that he has something on you that you don't and for him to use this harmonizing leverage against you so soon, even though it feels incredibly blissful and pushes you over the edge on a note higher. Your sweet moans of his name coming out in small chants only encourage him to bring you closer to another beautiful release. Your legs wrap tightly around him to subdue your quivering form as your velvet tissues spasm and contract around him and he purposely draws out your second orgasm of the night. “Just let go for me, princess. And don't hold yourself back.”

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb lads #caleb lnds #caleb smut #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace x reader

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mournthebird · 2 months ago

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Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Вы будете голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сдела�� лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

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sadhana1970 · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

Shimom's healthy food. || Nourishing start ||

#youtube #tea Metabolism boost Morning beverage Healthy Breakfast Balanced meal Nutrient-rich Morning nutrition Breakfast ideas Wholesome meal Nourish

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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Reader sending a picture of her not very balanced very snacky but yummy meal captioned “girl dinner!!” while Spencer is away on a case and it just turns into Spencer calling her in front of everyone to kindly lecture on how that isn’t an actual meal and how she needs to eat something real/he’ll order something for her LMAO

You're not expecting the immediate call from Spencer after you send him a picture of your meal, but you pick it up anyways with the crunch of a pretzel stick.

"Spence?" You speak through your mouthful, long-since over the illusion of perfection around him.

"Angel," He greets you, worry lacing his sweeet voice, "Is that really your dinner?"

"Yeah," You laugh, looking down at the collection of pretzel sticks and cheesy popcorn that adorn the plate around your bowl of macaroni and cheese, "I don't feel like anything else."

"Sweetheart," He hums, "That's not a very nourishing meal. You're probably going to feel gross afterwards, it's going to make you tired and you're not going to feel very energized tomorrow."

"Spence, I know," You chuckle, adjusting the phone against your ear, "It's girl dinner. It's supposed to be unhealthy and mismatched."

"Girl dinner," He grumbles, his brows probably furrowed adorably. "What-?"

In the background you hear assorted giggles, Prentiss's the most recognizable. You assume that others are JJ and Garcia, and you hope they're enjoying themselves.

"It's a meme," You explain, "An internet joke, Spencer. I'm in the mood for junk food, so instead of forcing myself to eat healthy all the time, sometimes you just have to give in and eat like shit for a night. Girl dinner."

"If you paired it with a vegetable, you'd at least be getting some nutrients," Spencer tries, but you cut him off while you stir your macaroni.

"No vegetables. This is girl dinner. I'm okay, Spence, I'll eat something really good for breakfast tomorrow."

"Okay," He's hesitant to agree, "But- but honey, if you're having trouble preparing yourself food, I can order in for you, okay? Just tell me what you want and I'll wake up early to have it sent over."

"Spencer!" You giggle, eager to get to your less-than-balanced meal, "Okay. This is just a one-time joke, okay? I thought it would be funny to send you. You don't have to worry."

"I worry about you all the time," He confesses, and you know it's meant to be flattering instead of insulting, "I'll have fresh fruit delivered for you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, Spencer." You finally concede, "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Now you hear the relaxed smile in his voice, "Enjoy your- uh, girl dinner."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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colebabey888 · 5 months ago

Text

From Morning Routine to Nighttime Rituals | IT GIRL DIARIES

Becoming an IT Girl means embracing a lifestyle that balances beauty, productivity, and mindfulness. Let's take a look in the daily life of your ideal IT Girl...

Morning: Energizing Start 🎀

The IT Girl starts her day early, around 6 AM, with a refreshing glass of hot lemon water to detox and hydrate. She follows this with a quick workout, like indoor cycling or yoga, to get her blood flowing and boost her energy for the day ahead. After her workout, she treats herself to a skincare routine with gentle cleansers, serums, and sunscreen, focusing on achieving that effortless glow.

For breakfast, she enjoys a nutritious green juice, packed with spinach, kale, and ginger, which supports her clear skin and nourishes her body from within. She also takes a few moments for mindfulness practice, like journaling or meditation, to set positive intentions for the day.

Mid-Morning: Work Mode 🎀

By 9 AM, she’s in full productivity mode. To stay organized, she uses a to-do list or productivity app to break her day into manageable tasks. Whether she’s running a business, working on creative projects, or attending meetings, she prioritizes efficiency while taking short breaks to prevent burnout.

Lunch: Balanced and Light 🎀

For lunch, the IT Girl opts for a light, clean meal, like a salad with lean protein or healthy fats. She avoids processed foods and sugars, sticking to a nutrient-rich diet that keeps her feeling energized. During her break, she might catch up on reading or listen to a podcast that aligns with her personal growth goals.

Afternoon: Social and Active 🎀

In the afternoon, she may meet with friends, colleagues, or network with like-minded individuals. Socializing is a key part of her lifestyle, but she also remains selective about the company she keeps, ensuring her circle is supportive and inspiring.

To stay active, she might sneak in a quick walk or stretch, especially if she’s been working at a desk. Physical movement is important, even during a busy day, to maintain that IT Girl energy.

Evening: Wind Down in Style 🎀

As the day winds down, the IT Girl prepares for a relaxing evening. After finishing her tasks, she switches to self-care mode with an evening skincare routine, focusing on cleansing, moisturizing, and perhaps a face mask. She also enjoys a warm bath or some light stretching to soothe her body.

For dinner, she sticks to whole, unprocessed foods, such as grilled vegetables and lean proteins. The evening is her time to unwind, reflect, and recharge for the next day. She might do some light reading, indulge in a creative hobby, or spend time with loved ones.

Nighttime: Sleep Rituals 🎀

By 10 PM, it’s time for her nighttime rituals. The IT Girl knows the importance of quality sleep for her beauty and productivity. She turns off screens at least an hour before bed and enjoys a cup of herbal tea. Finally, she practices gratitude journaling to reflect on her day, setting a positive tone for the next morning.

_____

xoxo, @colebabey888

www.thedigitaldollar/gumroad.com

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luvrinne · 6 months ago

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╰ tips for eating healthy ও

remember that eating healthy is based on long-terms habits, it’s about making balanced choices to nourish ur body in the best possible way

don’t skip breakfast - breakfast gives u energy to start the day and that’s why it’s the most important meal of the day. choose healthy options sush eggs, fruits and yogurt.

includes a variety of foods - be sure to include fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean proteins and healthy fats in your daily diet. the more variety of foods you consume, the more different nutrients you will get.

control portions - pay attention to the size of the portions to avoid overeating. use smaller plates and serve suitable portions. listen to your body and eat until you feel satisfied, not until you are completely full.

limit the consumption of processed foods - highly processed foods are usually rich in trans fats, sugars and sodium, and lack essential nutrients. try to limit its consumption and opt for fresh and natural food.

drink enough water - water is essential to keep your body hydrated and for the proper functioning of all systems. replaces sugary and carbonated drinks with water to reduce the consumption of empty calories.

cooking at home - preparing your own meals gives you control over the ingredients and the way you cook. avoid eating out frequently, as restaurants usually serve large portions and contain less healthy ingredients.

reduces salt and sugar intake - many processed foods contain excessive amounts of salt and sugar. read food labels and look for healthier options with low salt and sugar content.

plan your meals - organize your meals in advance to avoid resorting to quick and unhealthy options when you are hungry. prepare healthy meals and snacks and have them on hand to avoid falling into unhealthy temptations.

chew slowly and enjoy the food - take your time to eat and chew slowly. this will help you enjoy the food, feel satisfied faster and avoid overeating.

increase the consumption of fruits and vegetables - fruits and vegetables are rich sources of vitamins, minerals and fiber. try to include a portion in each meal and as a snack between meals.

remember there are no tricks for a healthy diet. all you need is desire and will 🫶🏻

@ luvrinne

#wonyongism #divine feminine #creator of my reality #healthy eating #dream life #glow up #it girl #love affirmations #romantizing life #that girl #healthylifestyle #healthy food #self healing #self growth #self confidence #self love #self care #wonyoung

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heliosunny · 3 days ago

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hear me out: lucky egg argenti 🌹

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Argenti x Reader

For three days, the egg sat in your care—its crimson shell adorned with golden rose patterns, pulsing faintly with light. Then, on the third day, cracks splintered across its surface. A soft, triumphant hum filled the air, like the echo of a distant fanfare. With a final break, the shell shattered, light pouring from within. And from it, he emerged.

His long, red hair cascaded down his back, two strands framing his face as his vibrant green eyes locked onto yours. His armor gleamed under the light.

“I am Argenti, sworn to your service-”

Panic

Still damp from your bath, you did the only rational thing—shoved him out the door and slammed it shut.

You stood there, breathless, staring at the golden egg shards left behind. Did that really just happen? Of all the right moment, it hatched just now?

Shaking your head, you hurriedly got dressed. You needed answers—now.

Steeling yourself, you stepped outside.

There he was.

Kneeling right in front of your door.

“Ah, you have returned!” he said warmly, as if you hadn’t just kicked him out.

“I… What are you doing?” you finally managed.

Argenti placed a gauntleted hand over his heart, his expression sincere.

“Awaiting your orders, of course, my guiding star.”

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze nothing short of reverence. "I have waited for you. I have longed for you. And now that I am here, I shall devote myself to you for eternity."

You stared at him, feeling a strange mix of amusement and concern. You had heard rumors about these so-called "Lucky Eggs" but you never expected something like receiving a man from such egg.

"Uh... okay" you said, rubbing the back of your neck. "Why don’t we... start with breakfast?"

Argenti's expression brightened instantly, as if you had just granted him the greatest gift in the world. "To be nourished by your hands?" he mused, following you eagerly. "Truly, I am the most blessed of men."

At least he's polite.

In the kitchen, Argenti hovered behind you, watching your every move with rapt attention. You grabbed some eggs, bread, and a few simple ingredients, planning to make something easy.

"You are skilled in the art of cooking as well" he praised, his tone filled with admiration. "Of course you would be. There is nothing you do that is not touched by divinity."

You nearly dropped the pan. "It’s just breakfast."

"And yet, I am certain it will be the most exquisite meal I have ever tasted." His gaze softened as he watched you crack an egg into the pan. "You move with such grace… every action you take is mesmerizing."

Was he serious? It was as if he found even the way you scrambled eggs to be a masterpiece.

Once the food was ready, you set the plate in front of him, watching with mild curiosity as he took his first bite. The moment the flavors touched his tongue, his eyes widened in pure bliss.

"This—!" He swallowed, pressing a hand to his chest as if overwhelmed. "This is magnificent! A humble dish, yet crafted with such care—it surpasses the finest delicacies I could have imagined!" His gaze found yours once more, filled with endless adoration. "Everything you create is perfect."

So he’s the type to get emotional over food. At least he wasn’t complaining.

"You’re being dramatic" you muttered, taking a bite of your own food.

"I speak only the truth" he insisted. "You nourish both my body and my soul."

You felt warmth creeping up your face at the way he said that, but you quickly shook it off. "Alright, alright, just eat."

He obeyed, but with every bite, he continued murmuring praises—about the seasoning, the texture, the fact that you made it. It was almost exhausting, but at the same time… it was nice. He was enthusiastic, if nothing else.

As you finished eating, you leaned back in your chair, watching as he savored the last bite. He looked completely satisfied, his expression peaceful yet utterly devoted.

"If every day is to be like this" he said, voice softer now, "then I know I was born into paradise."

You decided the next step was to get Argenti registered. In this world, adventurers needed proper documentation before they could enter dungeons, farm for points, and trade for necessities. It was a simple process—just a bit of paperwork and an entrance test to gauge one’s abilities.

Argenti followed you eagerly, his eyes full of wonder as he took in the bustling city streets. Every now and then, he would stop to admire something—a flower stand, a well-crafted statue, even the way the wind rustled the leaves in the trees. You had to tug his sleeve a few times to keep him moving.

"You find joy in the smallest things" you remarked.

He turned to you, smiling as if you had said something profound. "Everything in this world is precious because it is your world."

There he goes again.

At the registration center, the process went smoothly. You filled out the basic forms for him—name, origin (which you had to vaguely put as "new arrival"), and intended role. He was assigned an evaluation test, a simple combat challenge to determine his ranking.

The moment Argenti stepped into the testing area, however, it became clear this wouldn’t be just a "simple" evaluation.

The instructors presented him with a standard practice weapon, but Argenti scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "I require a spear" he declared. "Only then will I truly demonstrate my strength."

They hesitated but eventually fetched him a training spear. The moment he took it in his grasp, his entire demeanor shifted.

The test began.

With a single, fluid movement, Argenti lunged at the target dummies. His strikes were elegant yet devastating. When they brought out higher-ranked opponents for a sparring match, he dismantled them effortlessly, countering every move.

The spectators were left speechless.

Of course, he’s overpowered.

The evaluation ended quickly. The instructors whispered among themselves before assigning him an exceptionally high ranking—far beyond what a newcomer should have.

That was when the real problem began.

Word spread fast, and soon, people started gathering—particularly the ladies.

Adventurers, merchants who had been passing by took notice of Argenti’s display. Whispers of admiration filled the air.

"Who is he?"

"He's so strong!"

"And handsome too! Look at that hair! That armor!"

Argenti, however, remained utterly oblivious to their attention.

When one particularly bold woman approached, twirling a strand of her hair flirtatiously, Argenti’s expression barely changed. She smiled sweetly, placing a delicate hand on his arm.

"You must be new here" she cooed. "If you ever need someone to show you around, I'd be delighted—"

Argenti immediately took a step back, his face unreadable. Then, with utter finality, he turned away from her and walked straight to you.

He knelt before you, grasping your hand in both of his. "My guiding star," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I have completed my trial. Now, let us leave this place."

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. People exchanged glances, some giggling, others looking envious.

You sighed, feeling their eyes on you. "You didn’t have to be that dramatic."

Argenti tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But it is simply the truth."

You decided not to argue. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. "Come on, let’s go buy you some supplies before the dungeon."

As you walked away, you felt several stares boring into your back. You knew exactly what they were thinking.

Just who is this person that Argenti is so devoted to?

And honestly? You weren’t sure you had the answer to that either.

The next morning, you and Argenti prepared for your first dungeon run together. You had already bought him proper armor and a real spear—one worthy of his overwhelming strength. As expected, he treated the weapon with great reverence, running his fingers over the polished shaft with something akin to admiration.

"It is a fine weapon" he mused, then turned his gaze to you, green eyes brimming with warmth. "But no blade nor spear shall ever compare to the honor of fighting by your side."

You sighed. "You’re going to get us killed one day if you keep saying embarrassing things mid-battle."

He chuckled, completely unfazed. "Then I shall die speaking the truth."

At the dungeon entrance, you were approached by another adventuring team. A well-balanced group—two warriors, a healer, and a mage, who seemed competent enough. Their leader, a young man with a confident grin, stepped forward.

"Hey, we saw your ranking from yesterday. You are new but insanely strong. Mind if we join forces? Bigger team means better survival rates, right?"

You exchanged a glance with Argenti. It was true that larger teams had better odds, and since this was Argenti’s first real dungeon run, it might be good to have backup.

"Fine" you said with a nod. "Let’s move quickly. I don’t like wasting time."

Argenti remained silent but stood close beside you. His posture was as composed as ever, but there was a certain stiffness to his frame—something almost... displeased. Still, he said nothing, merely following your lead as the group entered the dungeon.

From the very start, it was clear that you and Argenti were carrying the team. Your coordination was flawless—Argenti’s spear danced through the air, tearing through monsters, while you supported him with buffs. The other team members did their best, but there was no denying it: you and Argenti were on a completely different level.

The others were panting by the time you reached the second floor, but you and Argenti were barely breaking a sweat.

"Are you even human?" one of the warriors groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Argenti tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the question. "I am whatever my guiding star wishes me to be."

You shot him a look. "Stop saying weird things."

The warrior chuckled, assuming it was a joke, but the group's mage—a young woman named Elara—giggled softly and stepped closer to Argenti.

"You’re really impressive" she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Have you trained since childhood?"

Argenti didn’t respond.

The dungeon crawl continued, and Elara kept finding excuses to stick close to him. She walked beside him, struck up conversation, and even went as far as to lightly grasp his arm when pretending to lose balance.

You noticed, of course. But you weren’t particularly bothered. Adventurers naturally gravitated toward the strong, and Argenti was both powerful and strikingly beautiful. It was only natural that someone would take an interest in him.

It doesn’t matter. As long as he stayed focused on the mission, you had no reason to intervene.

Argenti, however, had other thoughts.

Each time Elara got too close, his grip on his spear tightened. Whenever she spoke to him, his responses were curt, dismissive. His movements became slightly sharper, his strikes just a fraction more aggressive, as if trying to release some unseen frustration.

Then, when Elara attempted to press even closer, Argenti abruptly moved away, only to step directly behind you.

"My guiding star," he murmured, his voice a whisper against your ear. "Am I permitted to dispose of nuisances?"

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "We don’t kill our allies."

He sighed, as if deeply inconvenienced. "A shame."

Before you could say anything else, Elara suddenly reached out again. "Argenti, I—"

Without even looking at her, Argenti smoothly took your hand and pulled you against his side.

"You seem to misunderstand, lady mage" he said, voice perfectly polite, yet as sharp as the tip of his spear. His grip on you was firm, "I have no need for distractions. My only purpose is to serve them."

Elara stiffened. The rest of her team awkwardly looked away. You could feel the tension radiating from Argenti’s frame, like a storm barely contained beneath his composed facade.

You sighed, squeezing his hand slightly in warning. "Enough. Let’s finish the dungeon."

Argenti didn’t argue. But as you continued forward, his fingers remained curled tightly around yours, as if daring anyone to challenge his claim.

After a long but successful dungeon run, your party finally stepped out into the cool night air. The scent of damp stone and moss lingered, but the fresh breeze was a welcome relief after hours in the depths.

"You two are absolute monsters in battle" the team leader laughed, stretching his arms. "We’ve gotta treat you to a meal! No way we’re letting this victory pass without celebration."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Argenti. He was still holding your hand from earlier, his grip unwavering even as you stood outside the dungeon.

You saw no harm in accepting. A free meal after a long day? You weren’t going to turn that down.

"Fine" you said with a shrug. "Just don’t pick a place too expensive."

Elara perked up immediately, clasping her hands together. "Oh! I know a great place! It’s got the best drinks and atmosphere in town!"

Argenti’s grip subtly tightened. You ignored it.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the chatter of adventurers, merchants, and travelers alike. Plates of steaming food covered the table, and the other party members eagerly dug in.

Argenti, however, barely touched his food. He sat beside you, his green eyes never straying too far from your form. He did, however, accept anything you placed on his plate—though you noticed he seemed to enjoy it more when you personally handed him a piece.

"Everything tastes better when it is from your hand" he murmured at one point.

You ignored the way your face heated slightly and focused on eating.

Elara, sitting across from Argenti, had been quiet for a while. Then, at some point during the meal, she subtly waved her fingers beneath the table.

A faint shimmer flickered in the air. A spell.

At first, you didn’t notice. But when Argenti suddenly stiffened beside you, his breathing growing uneven, you turned your head sharply.

"Argenti?"

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his cup but failed to grasp it properly. His vision was unfocused, his usual sharpness dulled.

"I feel…" he exhaled heavily, his voice quieter than usual. "Weary…"

Elara’s lips curled slightly. "Oh my," she feigned concern. "He must’ve overexerted himself in battle today. Poor thing."

That was not exhaustion from battle.

Elara had done something.

Without hesitation, you reached for Argenti, steadying him as he leaned against you. His head rested against your shoulder, warm but unnaturally heavy.

"Let’s get out of here" you muttered.

Elara blinked. "Wait—so soon? The night’s just started!"

You ignored her, wrapping an arm around Argenti to support him. His entire body felt like dead weight, his breathing shallow but steady. He wasn’t in immediate danger, but whatever spell she had used had clearly taken a toll on him.

You weren’t about to leave him like this.

With some effort, you managed to get him up and out of the restaurant. The others barely reacted, assuming he had just had too much to drink.

Elara, however, was less than pleased.

She had expected him to turn his attention toward her, to weaken his ridiculous obsession with you. Instead, all she had done was exhaust him.

By the time you got him to the inn nearby and into your room, Argenti was barely conscious. His head lolled slightly, but he stubbornly clung to you, refusing to let go even as you tried to ease him onto the bed.

"You are…" he murmured, voice slurred, "the only light I see…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now get some rest."

You reached to pull his gauntlets off, making him more comfortable. But as you did, his hands suddenly shot up, grasping your wrists.

"You will not leave" he whispered. His grip, even in his weakened state, was firm. "Please stay..."

With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed. "Fine. But only until you fall asleep."

As you carefully unfastened Argenti’s armor, the weight of his exhaustion became more evident. His usual strength had been drained away, leaving him in an unfamiliar state of weakness. You worked efficiently, making sure he was comfortable as you finally laid him down on the bed.

But as soon as your hands left him, a strange sensation washed over you. Your body tingled, as if something deep inside you had been activated. A pull, an unseen force, began drawing your energy toward him, flowing into him like a tide shifting toward shore.

The connection from the egg, the unseen bond that tethered you and Argenti together, was responding to his weakened state. Without your permission, your energy surged forward, filling the void left in him.

A soft exhale left Argenti’s lips as the faintest color returned to his cheeks. His breathing steadied, and you could see the tension in his body ease slightly. He was getting better.

But you…

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy.

Your eyelids drooped, exhaustion overtaking you in waves.

The warmth of his body beneath your fingertips felt inviting, and before you could stop yourself, you slumped forward.

A quiet gasp left Argenti when your body pressed against his. Even in his weakened state, his arms instinctively wrapped around you, securing you against his chest.

You were too tired to resist.

The steady rise and fall of his breath lulled you further, and soon, everything faded into a peaceful sleep.

Argenti stirred slightly, his fingers twitching as his awareness slowly returned.

The first thing he registered was warmth.

The second was you.

Lying atop him, nestled against his chest, your body soft and warm in his arms. He could feel your energy intertwined with his, as if your very essence had poured into him to heal him.

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

Even now, you gave yourself to him.

Even unknowingly, your body, your soul—everything—gravitated toward him.

How beautiful.

His lips curled into a small, pleased smile.

Argenti carefully adjusted your position, lifting you with surprising gentleness despite the exhaustion that had once plagued him. You slept soundly, your body still recovering from the energy you had unknowingly given him.

He took a moment to admire you, his eyes tracing the peaceful expression on your face. Soft breaths, warm skin, the faintest scent of you lingering in the air—it was soothing, so intoxicatingly his.

But there was something that still needed to be taken care of.

With one last lingering touch, he pulled the blanket over you and silently left the room.

A few hours later. He returned. Not a single trace of fatigue lingered in his steps. His posture was as composed as ever, his armor pristine, not a single drop of blood marring his silver gauntlets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you stir slightly.

When your eyes fluttered open, you blinked up at him sleepily.

"You’re back?" you murmured, your voice still drowsy.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Of course" he said smoothly. "Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, stretching a little before sitting up. "Yeah. I think I needed that."

He smiled. There was no trace of the earlier spell’s effects on him. He looked as radiant and composed as always. You stretched again and stood up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you both prepared to return home.

The town square was bustling, as always.

But something caught your eye.

A missing poster.

Your steps slowed for a brief moment as you took in the sketch on the parchment.

Elara

She was gone.

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you didn’t dwell on it for long. You never liked her anyway. With a shrug, you kept walking, letting the poster fade into the background of the busy street.

Behind you, Argenti’s expression was unreadable.

But deep down, he was pleased.

You had seen the evidence of his work.

And yet, you chose to ignore it.

You were learning.

Good.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as you continued walking.

This life, the one where he stood by your side, where he belonged to you and you to him, was all he ever wanted.

And as long as you stayed his, he would make sure nothing, and no one, would ever get in the way.

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