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buckets-and-trees · 22 hours

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I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #royal au #steve rogers x reader #royal steve rogers #aspen wrote something #cedar trees au #askpen

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deadboyfriendd · 2 days

Text

Ochre

Summary: You have never been more content with nothingness, your life finally settled like silt back down into the spongy earth. You have been left with plenty of downtime to indulge in your hobbies. Halsin chooses to indulge with you.

Warnings: Halsin x fem!reader, I haven't played bg3 I'm just horny for this man, inappropriate use of paint, sub!Halsin if you squint, fingering, p in v smut

My work is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Hi if you're one of my mutuals, you don't see me. Again, I would like to reiterate, I did not play bg3 I just like this man. I'm doing this for fun and I haven't written smut in a second. I wrote this in a blind fury doing writing warm-ups for a personal project.

You had never been more content with nothingness.

The only noises surrounding you now were the hum of the cicadas in the waning coolness of spring. They were deafening now, but a welcome comfort to the silence you were still getting to know. You could hear your thoughts a little less, memories repressing themselves for longer and less frequently. They seemed more distant.

You hadn’t been particularly fond of the way the grass brushed against your ankles, leaving a deep, residual itch that you felt in your bones. This time, you had remembered to tote a blanket with you, dragging it alongside your paint pots and cold-pressed paper.

“A gift to nature,” he had called them, “you capture her beautifully.”

You didn’t think they were anything special, of course, you didn’t. But he, in all of his kindness, thought they had been a gift– though you had been a gift. Little smatterings of paint, green amongst brown these days. Today you watched the ducks, circling against the rifts of the current, capsizing like little boats to only overturn themselves righted again.

Halsin was much quieter than he appeared, a rustling of dry thatches of grass masked as a boundless breeze. He was all silent breaths and light footfall. You hardly had time to register his looming presence behind you this time– not before broad hands settled against your back and smoothed themselves over the skin of your waist in a fluid movement. Had it not been so delicate, it might have startled you more. He dropped his heavy frame next to yours, encasing your body in his radial heat.

“What are we painting today, my heart?” He had asked, his large head coming down to rest on your shoulder to match your eye level. You could feel the way his pointed ear came to rest against your rounded one.

He can feel the smile pull at your cheek against his lips as he awaits your response, “Just what I see.” You whisper to him, nodding outwards towards the direction of the clearing.

He is amazed by you nonetheless. Where you see mismatched colors and blurred edges– things that are inherently too stylistic or devoid of too much detail, he sees the place he loves, enraptured by the hands of the one he holds closest.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, though, by the heavy kisses he plants across your jaw and neck, you cannot tell if he is talking about the painting, or of you.

Your tunic rides upwards as his hands travel further. He makes quick work of your trousers as well. You grow needy for him, pawing at the firm, taught skin of his stomach beneath his shirt. He releases a breathy chuckle, it wades across your skin and draws a shudder from you.

“So needy, darling,” He chides, nipping softly at silken skin, “I will give you what you need.” He leans back from your body, and you whine at the loss of contact. He cannot help the grin that crawls across his face at your sudden need for him.

Halsin is not clumsy by nature, though, he grows sloppy in his movements when otherwise preoccupied. He uses the momentum of his weight to settle you into the linen beneath you. His hands are frantic and hungry as they reach towards you waist once more, his body settling between your legs. As he reaches, thick fingers tip a pot of paint, splattering cobalt across the the linen. It’s temperature as well as the suddenness of the action draws a shocked breath from you.

You whine again when you feel it against you, “My paint.”

“Do not worry, my heart,” He whispers against your skin, his trail never faltering in its journey to your collarbone, “I will find you more,” He nips at the skin there, soothing the dull sting with his tongue. His path continues downwards, over the supple hills of your breasts where he lavishes in the softness there. He presses a kiss to the valley between them before taking a pert nipple into his mouth, “I will grind the pigment myself if I must.”, he whispers against the bud there.

His hand is covered in paint, and he recklessly grips your waist once more. It sits tacky on your skin and leaves a smear of blue in its wake. He looks down at the way your hands grip at the paint-laden cloth beneath you, and he grabs your wrist– using it as his own vessel for art as he guides it to his chest and smears it downwards. The relishes in the feeling of it. He sits back on his haunches, head tilted back as a sigh escapes his lips. Your fingers trail blue across his chest and down to the sensitive skin below.

You are on your knees again, facing him. Instead of moving towards him, you reach towards your paint pots. Dipping your fingers deep into the slick, ruby paint, you meet his eyes– watching intently towards your fingers before flitting back up towards yours. He does not need to ask.

Instead, you reach towards him intently, smearing a slick glob of paint thick in the center of his chest. It coats the hair there and drips downwards. He whines at the feeling, and, suddenly, it is blazing. You are near ravenous as you lunge towards him, your own chest pressing stickily into the paint on him. It smears between your bodies as you slide against each other, arms wrapped tight over his shoulders and around his neck, his own hands scrambling to remove what little clothes are left between you.

Quickly, his hands slides down your front, finding fast purchase on that delicious bundle of nerves at the apex of you. You shudder as his thick fingers brush it, whine as they find their rhythm.

“My love,” He groans as he lays you back down, “I do not believe you are aware of the affect you have on me.” He is near-frantic now, a thick middle finger sliding through your center before delving in slowly. You are aware of this affect, a prominent hardness dragging along your thigh as he prepares you for him. As he slides a ring finger in, pumping slowly, before setting a rhythm, you feel a delicious fullness and a creeping warmth as he stretches you on his fingers. His pace is perfect, and the curl of his fingers hits that perfect place that sends you in a crescendo over the edge.

“There it is, my love,” He says, through the haze of your orgasm, massaging your sides softly, “You did so good.”

He is the picture of beauty like this, blue and red smeared into a lilac across his chest and stomach, kind eyes and upturned lips that stretch across golden skin. He was a sight to behold, your beautiful creature. You needed to bask in him, to watch him fall apart beneath your hands.

“On your back, please,” you whisper to him. He does not question this, only leans into the plush of the grass beneath him. You follow him in a swell motion, straddling over him. You grip him in your hands, relieving him with slow, languid strokes that draw choked, beautiful moans from his mouth. You watch the skin of his neck strain, the way his brow furrows. He will undoubtedly be beautiful as you take him this way. You guide him to your core before sinking down on him. No matter how many times you take him, there will always be a decadent stretch, followed by a fullness unlike any other you’ve felt.

As you adjust to the size of him, you take the pot of yellow in your hands. Tipping it to the side, you watch the stream of it, vibrant like the flowers that surround this meadow, drip on to him, It pools in the dips and crevices of his stomach, and he shudders and whines as it cascades over him. His back arches off of the spongy floor, and you soothe his writhing with steady hands– a promise for movement. Your hands find purchase in these pools as you begin to rock.

The paint seeps from beneath your fingers as he gasps, his sudden jerking sending your hands sliding forward to his chest. It leaves broad yellow strokes in its wake. He rucks his hips upwards sporadically to meet yours, searching for fiction.

You whine as he pistons up into you, relentlessly, though, always careful– always thoughtful. He chokes on his moans as his eyes cinch shut, tears squeezing from the corners and down his pretty face in a beautiful jubilance. You bounce with him in synchrony, blanketing his body with yours as he takes over. Your bodies are slick with paint, colors mixing into a muddy mess between your bodies. The sounds are pureply pornnographic, the soft squelzhing of paint, the sticking and unsticking of tacky skin, his beautiful cries into the now-stagnant air.

His thumb rubbing fast-paced circles over your clit is the catalyst that sends you over the edge with a cry. With a few more thrusts, he falls over the edge with a groan of his own– near animalistic in nature. His eyes glow gold as he peers down at you, your slack body rising and falling with the movement of his breaths.

“Beatiful, darling,” He whispers against your temple, letting you settle your body in the crevice of his side– your head leaning against his bicep. The paint has begun to dry in its thinnest concentrations, flaking and drifting off of him in a few places.

“You are my favorite artist.”

#halsin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin fluff #halsin smut #halsin fanfic #halsin x reader fluff #halsin x reader smut #if you see me #no you don't #I'm going through something #Spotify

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notmyneighbor · 5 hours

Text

Scarlet Milk - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 5.2k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content, blood drinking

Also available on AO3

fanart by kaworinx

Your eyes flick to the clock mounted on the wall. Your morning shift at the telephone exchange was almost over.

“What number, please?”

You scan the switchboard for the correct sequence, removing and plugging in the jack to connect the call seamlessly. The next number requested is for a different exchange and you transfer the call with barely a delay.

At last it’s time to set the headset down. Your work as a telephone operator is done for the day.

Business in the telephone exchange office had really picked up since the war, and had increased further still after the DDD began their operation to help identify and weed out the invading doppelgangers. It’s the perfect time to work, getting as many hours as you need and stowing away the extra funds for a rainy day.

You ride a bicycle to work since your employer isn’t far from home. A little rougher going in the winter months, but now it was spring, the weather warming up nicely, the budding trees and renewed verdant color in lawns further signs that the seasons were changing.

You’ve barely left the city behind and entered the suburbs before you run into trouble: a sharp object, perhaps a bit of glass or metal, has punctured one of your tires. You slip off the bike seat after coming to a bumpy halt, now forced to walk alongside the bike the rest of the way home. You think there’s a repair kit lurking somewhere in the house, you’re just not entirely sure where.

You spy a milk delivery sitting near the front door of one of the houses you pass, still remaining unclaimed at this late morning hour. A small blue and yellow bird perched on the rim of one of the bottles is startled by your presence and temporarily abandons its assault on the foil lid before it regains its confidence and returns, the beak breaching the barrier so that it can drink the rich cream that has risen to the top. Clever, naughty thing. You’d shoo him away but you know it or one of its brethren will just return anyway. You had to be careful nowadays, leaving something like that unprotected.

You had to be careful nowadays, period.

You spy the milkman’s truck further up the road, the driver near the tailgate, lifting his cap and dragging the back of a pale wrist against his perspiring forehead. The rear of the vehicle is empty, the goods inside all distributed for the day’s route.

Your pace slows as you draw closer, nodding a greeting to the man. You don’t recognize him. Maybe a new hire for the dairy company. The other driver had been getting older. Maybe he’d finally retired. At least, you hoped his sudden absence was for that pleasant reason and not something more sinister relating to the doppels. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is warm and friendly. You see his eyes focus on the deflated tire, then back up to your face. “Flat tire, huh? Need a lift?”

“Oh, no, I can manage, thank you. I’m nearly there.”

“I’m heading that way. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

You shake your head. “Really, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “Alright, then. Get home safe.” You watch as he seals the back doors and returns to the driver’s side, climbing up and settling behind the wheel. You suddenly feel foolish. The man was just trying to be kind, surely. He starts the engine and eases back onto the road slowly, decelerating to a meager crawl to keep pace with you, calling to you through the open window. “Last chance to change your mind.” He smiles. Handsome. He has such an honest face. Weary eyes. The early mornings no doubt leaving those inky shadows on ivory skin. He must be eager to be home now that his job was completed, yet he was still offering to help.

In spite of your earlier caution, you find yourself feeling it would be rude to decline again, and you accept the milkman’s offer. “Alright, thank you. I promise it’s not far and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you want to get home.”

The truck halts, the breaks squeaking slightly. Your bicycle is lifted effortlessly and stowed in the back. There’s no seat inside save for the driver, so you remain standing, bracing yourself against the rear of the cab awkwardly. At least you don’t have far to go.

“Anyone at home to help you with that flat tire?”

“No, I live alone,” you admit, then silently curse yourself. You shouldn’t be volunteering that kind of information, even if it was the truth. Your brother had left you with the inherited house after he’d moved in with his new wife last year, still disappointed that you hadn’t found someone yet, disapproving of your decision to choose to live independently in such strange, dangerous times. Now you’ve just revealed this vulnerable fact to a stranger. A male stranger.

“The birds have been at your deliveries again,” you say, searching for something to fill the sudden silence.

“So I’ve seen. They can’t resist the cream. Interesting story about that. It’s only one particular species, have you noticed?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“They had no trouble before they started sealing the bottles, but even after the lids were implemented they persisted until they found a way to get inside. Taught the others how to do it, too. Adaptation and evolution are necessary for survival.”

“I suppose you’re right. This is my house here,” you point and the driver slows and stops, parking the truck along the curb and shutting off the engine.

“Let me give you a hand unloading the bicycle.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“No problem.” The milkman stands. Suddenly the cab of the truck feels very small. He’s positioned so that he’s blocking the doorway, making no move to head to the back where your bike is being stored. The smile on your features slides off like melting ice cream on a summer day.

No. He couldn’t be.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. The smile he offers doesn’t quiet touch his eyes this time.

“Actually, I’ll just um…I can get it. Thank you for the lift.” You try to ease past him, thinking to make your escape through the rear of the vehicle instead, but he slaps out an arm to bar your path, crowding you against the steel frame.

“We’re adapting, too. Evolving constantly. Getting better and better at blending in. Finding new ways to breach your homes and sate our hunger.”

“Please don’t kill me.” As if the doppelganger would have mercy. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. How foolish you had been, walking into his trap. Why hadn’t you trusted your instincts?

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. See, it’s occurred to me to take a page from those birds’ books, so to speak. Sample the sweetest, most nutritious part. And let the rest of the meal live on, thereby providing an endless supply, rather than gorging on one human in a single sitting, then being forced to find another. We’ve already seen what happens when we indulge too voraciously. It’s why we were forced to visit your planet, after all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Your blood. That is what I desire. A sample each time, and then you go about your daily life as usual. A fair deal, isn’t it? Certainly a better offer than most of my kin would give you.”

“You want to…to…” You can even bring yourself to utter it out loud.

“Drink your blood, yes.”

“Like a vampire,” you whisper in horror.

“Something like that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I consume you right here and now.”

Two tears spill over your cheeks. The doppel clucks his tongue. “There’s no need for that. It’s really a very obvious choice. The sooner you agree, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it…is it going to hurt?”

“Not as badly as me tearing you apart with my claws, I assure you.” His features soften, and that impression of how handsome the original man he’s copied must be strikes you again. “This doesnt need to be violent. It will go easier for you if you don’t resist.”

You swallow thickly, trying to summon courage. “How do you know I won’t just call the DDD?”

“Because that would be a very, very foolish thing to do. And I think you are smarter than that, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare slightly and he inhales deeply. “I’m getting hungry. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

“What guarantee do I have that you’re not just going to kill me anyway?”

“None, other than my word.”

You could almost laugh. An invader asking you to trust him. To allow yourself to be fed upon until…when would this conceivably end? “How long will I have to do this for?”

He shrugs. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things. How many others will supplement my diet. How much I decide to take. This will end whenever I say it ends,” he adds in a growl, and you shudder.

You close your eyes. “Alright. Just get it over with.”

“Not here. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see, now, would we? Hop on down and I’ll deliver your bicycle. Then we can go inside and…have a little snack.”

You wish your neighbors would see your plight, but there’s no one to help you. The elderly man across the street was probably well into his morning nap. The young couple next door both worked. The housewife who lived on the other side was undoubtedly busy with chores, the children at school.

The doppelganger leans your damaged bike against the fence, following you up to the door, waiting for you to unlock it.

So. You really were going to invite him inside after all.

Normally you’d be fixing lunch at this time. Maybe doing some housework yourself. Now you set your keys in the trivet dish by the door and tuck your shoes neatly beside the frame, watching the doppel shut the door behind him.

“Come here.”

You’d taken a couple of steps further into the hallway and his voice makes you jerk to a halt. You warily turn back.

That smile again. Your stomach flips nervously as you move to stand beside him.

He makes a little hum of sound, pleased you’re being obedient and cooperative. Your hair is already pinned up, your throat exposed. Assuming that was where he was going to bite you. The thought makes your breath hitch and you close your eyes again, willing the moment to be over.

You feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer to your neck, hear another deep inhale. His lips graze your skin in the barest whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces a line down the side of your neck and then there is pain, sharp and fast, your body reflexively trying to pull away but his arms fasten around you, clutching your body against his.

“Relax,” he urges you again, his mouth lifting just long enough to issue the command to you before it returns and you feel the suction, the wet heat, that terrible drag of your life force pulled from the vessel beneath the skin. A little moan accompanies that gesture, sending vibrations as the alien savors the taste of you. Your fingers curl in his work shirt as you’re pushed back against the door. If there had been anyone there to see, it would have looked as if you were a young couple in the throes of passion. But there is no one witnessing this act. It is just you and the doppelganger.

“Enough,” he murmurs, his face revealed once more, no longer supping from your throat. You reach for the wound, surprised to find your hands coming away clean. No blood. Just scabbed puncture marks you can palpate with the pads of your fingers.

He’s breathing heavily. It had been hard to stop, maybe, fighting that natural instinct to kill and ravage. The dark eyes are bloodshot, a pair of fangs visible before they’re retracted again, the red haze gradually clearing as he continues staring at you. His appearance returns to that of the milkman he’s impersonating and he finally steps back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, a promise, a threat, before he exits, leaving you trembling, your fingers still cradling your neck. You hear the truck’s engine rumble to life.

Tomorrow.

***

He visits again the following evening.

You don’t know why you’d expected the doppelganger to be at your door at any particular time. Your anxiety has been peaking in anticipation. Dreading the next feeding. Still wondering what’s to stop him from just killing you anyway.

The marks he’d left had been surprisingly tidy. Easy enough to conceal. You’d struggled at work that day, your normally nimble hands and sharp eyes faltering more than once, your performance lacking. Your supervisor certainly noticed. You’d been spoken to. A warning.

Maybe you should take the next day off. Maybe you should…

A knock at the door interrupts your musings and you look up from the novel you’ve been attempting to distract yourself with.

He was here.

The temptation to phone the DDD is there again. But it would take them time to get here. You’d certainly be destroyed for your breach of contract long before the disposal team arrived.

You open the door.

He’s still wearing the milkman’s uniform, although this time he’s shed the cap, revealing the thick wavy brown hair that had been hiding beneath. Wordlessly you step back to make room for him to enter. Your eyes are on the floor now, suddenly shy. You hear the door being closed.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lift and you gaze at the doppel through your lashes. Surely he could hear how elevated your pulse is. Did that entice him, that rapid flow of crimson liquid?

The mimic moves behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him. Fingers guide your head to dip to one side, a gentle nudge before his lips are at your neck again. The same side as before. They press more firmly this time. The stripe he licks reaches all the way to your ear lobe. A whimper escapes you. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

The sharp pair of the monster’s cuspids pierce your throat. Another choked sound escapes you, this one a blurred mixture of pain and pleasure. The fingers resting against your abdomen dig in. His other hand is braced against your chin, manipulating your head, keeping you in position while he takes what he desires.

You clutch at the hand on your stomach. You think you’d faint if you didn’t have him at your back. There is something hard pressing against you there, another need digging into the cleft of your buttocks. Arousal. Your cheeks feel hot. There are no longer teeth sunk into your neck but his mouth is still there, laving and caressing the injured flesh. Soft, wet kisses planted. “So sweet,” he breathes against your ear. “Your scarlet milk is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

He departs minutes later and you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you get ready for bed, wondering why you’re not more afraid.

***

The milk delivery truck is parked outside your home when you arrive there the next afternoon.

You lean your mended bike against the picket fence. There are people outside. Someone is raking leaves from last autumn. Children are tossing a ball back and forth. The doppelganger has a bottle of milk in his hand, the tips of his fingers clutching it by the neck. He’s leaning against the outside of the truck.

“Come inside,” you hiss, not trusting him not to make a spectacle right there and then. He smirks at your invitation, following you inside.

There are sunspots in front of your eyes. It was so bright outdoors. The interior of your house is darker, cooler. “You should be more discreet,” you mutter, your hands rubbing together restlessly. Nervous. You’re so nervous.

“No one is paying any attention. They didn’t care when I took the truck. They hand the goods over willingly. It’s made finding other…donors…so simple. Your kind is so oblivious to what’s right in front of them.”

“How many other people are you…?” The idea of the imposter operating as a milkman making deliveries as a guise to shield his true purpose of seeking more sources of that sinister meal he craves twists your stomach in knots. Worried. You’re guilty over what’s happening to your neighbors. Not necessarily your fault, but you knew about it, and you allowed it, participated in it…

“Not many. Discretion is best, we agree on that much.” He tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite treat.”

“I’m not jealous,” you reply defensively, perhaps a little too much vehemence behind the words. Was there some of that mixed in your emotions as well?

“You should let me give you a ride home one of these days,” he murmurs.

You frown, your reverie dissolving. “Why?”

“Because,” he drawls. Not an answer. His upper eyelids drip languidly as he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter. The foil lid is soon demolished into a crumpled ball. He drives a middle finger into the cream gathered at the top of the bottle, scooping out a dollop of the thick substance. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“This is the best part, isn’t it? You humans seem to enjoy it. Open,” he commands again, and this time there is a bit of a threat there, the easygoing teasing suddenly disappearing. His eyes darken and your lips part obediently. The digit pierces those borders and drives straight back across your tongue, your eyelashes fluttering, surprised, the brisk invasive movement catching you off guard. Your mouth closes reflexively over the offering and the wedge of muscle presses his finger against the top of your soft palate, the pad brushing past the ridges to find the smoother flesh as he offers you a taste. Your stroke across the joint of his knuckle, then the nail bed as he slowly withdraws back through the tight ring of your mouth, finally emerging with a soft popping sound.

“Good?” The word is croaked out hoarsely. Your heart jackhammers as you nod. You watch as he repeats the gesture in his own mouth, brow furrowing over the taste as he considers the flavor of the cream. “I prefer you instead.”

The doppel’s lips touch your throat. You can’t stop the needy sound that escapes. “I won’t see you for a few days. Need to let your body rest and replenish. You’re of no use to me without the proper nutrition.” He nips your ear lobe. “So I’m going to stay a little longer today. Prolong things. I’m sure you don’t mind.” His hands have found the bottom of your skirt, lifting the hem. There are curtains on the windows but anyone standing close enough outside could look in and see what’s happening. Your cheeks burn with shame, that rush of heat further elevated because some part of you wants this. His fingers snake beneath the waistband of your panties and dip between your legs, swiping through the arousal leaking from you to collect a sample.

He licks them clean. An appreciative hum. “Now this, I really enjoy. Why don’t you hop up here.” You never get the chance because he lifts you first, setting you on the edge of the counter. Your skirt is flipped back impatiently again, your panties dragged roughly down. And you allow it. You allow the manhandling of your clothes, your body, manipulated into balancing precariously on the edge before he pulls a chair from under the kitchen table over and settles into it, his fingernails lightly scratching against your thighs before he parts them and buries his face into your sex.

Your head tips back and you bite your bottom lip as the doppel explores the sensitive pink flesh, enthusiastically swirling his tongue over the folds and your clit before pushing inside you. The hands curled around your thighs are changing, the nails digging in no longer the replicated human’s. The tongue violating your canal seems to lengthen, expanding. You’re afraid to see and yet you want to watch, your fingers burrowing into his hair. Bloodshot eyes, the doppel’s easing through, yellow tinged, pupils now sharp, narrow, a flash of teeth before his mouth shifts impossibly wide, more than a human jaw could ever accommodate, sucking at your clit while still fucking you with his tongue. A monster is ravaging your body and your only thought is MORE. The wedge of muscle curves inside you, tapping in staccato movements against the shallow secluded shelf of hidden pleasure and it sends you over the edge immediately, keening and shaking as he continues sucking and stabbing until you can’t stand it anymore, your legs trying to close, the hand that had been pulling him against your pussy now trying to push him away.

He finally surrenders, mouth parting reluctantly from your sex. You’re on fire, every nerve tingling in your extremities, at your center, where the pulse is strongest. A satisfied grin, a flash of sharp teeth aligned in a row, before the imposter milkman stands, kicking the chair back so hard it knocks over. His fingers sink into your hair and he jerks your head back, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it over the bump in his trousers. You fumble the fly open, dragging his needy erection through the flap of his briefs. It’s large and hot and your hands seem too small, too delicate to stroke that engorged organ properly.

“Milk it. Make me cum.” His lips hover before your own. You wonder why he hasn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Would those razor slivers of bone slice you to ribbons? The morphed tongue strokes the angle of your jaw. Your hand is working in harsh, jerky movements. Clumsy. You’re panting with fear and desire. You can’t reach his mouth at this angle so your lips find his throat instead, the patch of skin just above the fastened work shirt and knotted bowtie. He growls and bellows as your fingers finally, finally seem to have adapated, smoothing a gush of precum over the sensitive crown. Large as it was, his prick still felt human enough, so perhaps it was the same, or perhaps he still had yet to reveal its true nature. A moan now hummed against your throat, this soft and pleading noise the polar opposite of the menancing sound he’d emitted moments before. Teeth scrape your neck. The veins in his cock bulge against your hand. He’s so swollen, so ready to erupt. Fangs begin to dig into your flesh. Only a pair. He’s shifted appearances again, protecting you somewhat. You wonder how much of a struggle it is to keep it in check, during the height of something like this. The teeth descend further and you feel the suction as he pulls your blood into his mouth just as a hot spill of seed bathes your hand. He leans forward and your free hand reaches back to brace yourself, sending the milk bottle onto its side, mirroring the white flood that now coats your skin. He sucks and it aches and it feels like a second orgasm building inside of you.

At last, at last he draws back, and it is a human’s face you see, with shadow smudged eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips. The urge to kiss him flares anew but he backs away. You’re suddenly aware of the dairy product that’s spread across the counter, sinking into your clothes, spilling over the edge and dripping onto the floor. The doppel rights the chair he’d tipped over earlier. Clothes are straightened into some semblance of order.

You’re normally relieved when he departs. Today you find yourself clutching his sleeve as he reaches for the doorknob. Something has happened between you two, besides the obvious. A new kind of intimacy blossoming, satisfying other, more primal needs. Adapting and evolving like the doppel had said, perhaps.

“I’ll see you soon.” Not tomorrow. He’s already told you that. An anemic blood supply will not satisfy him. You’re more lightheaded than you’re letting on. He’s taken so much already, but you still want to give him more. “Soon,” he repeats. Then he’s gone.

***

In the dream, you’re in your bed, trying to achieve a slumber that won’t come. You toss and turn restlessly. Get a glass of water. Use the restroom. Flip your pillow over to the cooler side. Shift the covers. It’s no use. You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about the doppelganger.

About that smile, that warm breath and wicked mouth and wet tongue. His body pressing against yours. Tasting you. Cumming in your hand. The vampiric kisses. It should be terrifying, knowing he holds your life in his hands, your fate determined by the whim of an alien creature.

The replicant is back.

You sense him before he even taps on the glass of the French doors that lead from you bedroom into a private garden area in the back yard. You recognize that shape behind the gauzy curtains that shield the glass, flinging back the comforter and sliding out of bed. The cool air wafts over you as you open the door. You’re only wearing a thin nightgown. You shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of him. You shouldn’t be doing any of the things you’ve been doing with him.

His palm settles warm against the side of your neck. His mouth touches yours for the first time.

Heat pools in your sex. He tastes like metal, copper heavy on your tongue. There is the flavor of tart wine and something smokey as your body is pressed down onto the bed. Your fingers siphon through his hair. You can feel his erection again, demanding somewhere near your own groin. His hips cant slightly and you both moan softly.

The hem of your nightgown is slid up the length of your thigh. You can feel the sharp points of the claws that tear your panties from your body, a casual display that leaves you gasping. A faint jingle of a belt moving and the whine of the metal teeth of a zipper parting and then his cock is shoved into your slickened entrance.

The tongue that twines around yours feels foreign now, the doppel revealing more of his true form. Long and thick, like the prick that’s invading your pussy. Your brain in its dream state has no sense of shame. There is nothing but desire, hot and wet. The front of your nightgown is sliced through, the fabric easily parting beneath the sharp claws that have replaced human nails. Your breasts are kneaded as the sound of lewd slapping fills the air, wet noises from your joined mouths, from the cock pounding into your dripping cunt. Had he been hungry? You’d been starving, you realize. Craving this. Undeniably wrong but oh so right.

“Bite me.” In your waking state, you’d never issued such a request. Only in dreams could you be bold enough. Your fingers clutch the nape of his neck, encouraging him as your knees dig into his ribs. You gift him your blood and he gifts you a load of something thicker, creamier, milky shots of cum spurting deep inside of you. There are stars in front of your eyes, fireworks, bursting lights in the darkness. He kisses your mouth and the tang of your own lifeforce is strong there. His teeth are still sharp. He hasn’t changed back. You kiss him again anyway.

***

Your eyes open.

It’s raining. You can hear the soft patter of it against the roofing shingles above. Your heart is hammering wildly. Your entire body is drenched in sweat, your panties soaked with something more carnal. You fling back the sheet and blanket much as you had in the dream, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. You need a shower. You feel soiled.

You wish the events of the dream had really happened.

It’s been five days since you’ve seen the doppelganger. The water of the shower spills over you, pelting you gently. You drag the bar of soap over your body. There is something thick and wet between your legs, the fluids of your arousal a different kind of wetness than the spray of water. Your clit is swollen. You wish for his fingers, his tongue. You circle the raised bundle until your body trembles, until you’re forced to lean against the shower wall for support.

You shut off the faucet and towel yourself dry before pulling on a clean nightgown. You burrow your face into pillow and think of the mimic’s smile until sleep reclaims you once more.

***

A week has passed. Now you think something must be wrong. The doppelganger’s delayed absence can’t be intentional.

Perhaps the DDD had gotten to him. Someone had seen something, called. Maybe not all his ‘donors’ were quite as willing as yourself. A hot flame builds inside you. You are jealous, after all.

It’s raining on the night he finally returns. Later than he has ever been. The water has soaked his skin, his clothing. There is only the living room lamp on to illuminate your view of the alien creature, looking so pitiful standing there, a drenched figure with tired eyes and dark hair plastered flat against his head, the rainwater spilling over the sharp angles of his cheeks and nose, over the gentle curves of his lips.

He steps inside and closes the door. Your breathing is harsh, rapid. A match for his own. “Where have you been?”

“Did you miss me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. His voice drags against you skin like velvet. “No.”

“Liar.”

You reach for each other at the same time. Your fingers knot into the saturated fabric of his work shirt while his close over your upper arm, crowding you back against the door. “Where have you been?” You repeat again, your voice gentler this time. “I thought the DDD had gotten to you, I…”

“You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

His thumb briefly strokes one cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

“I do. Quite a lot, in fact. In many places,” he adds, smirking a little, some of his customary teasing emerging.

“You know what I mean. On the mouth.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, and for a moment you think he won’t answer you properly again, dodging the question, but then he continues, “that means something very, very different.”

“Different how?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

The doppel’s lips press against yours. Closed at first. Then they divide and your tongue darts between them, granting you your first taste of the invader. Nothing like the dream. No bitterness or metal or sour flavor. No smoke or ash. Just clean, pure, natural.

“Do you understand now?” His gaze traps yours. Human pupils dilating. You know what really lurks beneath. You like both.

“No. Show me again.”

A faint smirk. Then the doppelganger’s mouth captures yours once more.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #doppelganger #doppel francis #tnmn smut #tnmn francis mosses #francis tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic

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phoebepheebsphibs · 3 days

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 8: Recollections

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Raph sits down on his bed, grabbing a stuffed bear and rubbing his thumb over its worn-down stomach.

The room is dim, but not dark. The main light is off, but the hanging lanterns he has strung along the wall give a warm red glow to the room.

Ever since his krangification, Raph's eye has been a bit sensitive. It waters easily, stings on occasion, and bright lights irritate him. He's started wearing sunglasses outside more often, even on cloudy days. Donnie offered to make an artificial eye to help, but Raph said no. He'd rather keep the eye, even with its attitude and quirks.

"I'm not ready to be a cyborg just yet," he'd joked.

He thought that much of a change would be too big for him, after all the changes he and his family have already gone through.

Now a mechanical eye doesn't sound so crazy or scary.

Raph hugs his teddy bear. It squeaks in his arms. He thinks of how similar it felt to holding Mikey before he got mutated...

He grimaces, scrunching his face up tight and pressing his hands against his head, trying to force the thoughts away.

Mikey is still Mikey! Just with a few new... he won't call them upgrades. Changes. Nothing that can't be reversed, of course.

But... what if they can't be?

Raph presses his hands even tighter against his head.

Stop it. Shut up. Shut up!!

He doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to think about Mikey. Not in this way.

He feels like he's betraying him somehow, thinking of him as a monster or a wild animal rather than a brother. But then, he feels like he won't be able to help him if he keeps thinking of Mikey as he was before, and not accepting that he is changed now. But then, he won't stay changed. But then...

"SHUT UP!" Raph yells to himself, slamming his fists against the bed frame.

His ninpo activates, giant red fists breaking the bed slightly and causing the edge of it to slip under his weight and crash against the floor. Raph yipes in alarm, looking down at the mess he's made.

"...Nice going, Raph," he grumbles, grabbing some boxes of dumbells from the corner of his room to prop up the extension on his bed.

He sighs, sitting down on the edge of the mattress again, head in his hands.

He tries to stay strong. He tries not to break down. His family doesn’t need that right now, they don't need a basket case or a worry-wart or whatever else they might call him. They need Raph, strong and brave and ready to take on the world.

But he needs Mikey... he needs his baby brother back, safe, sound, whole. Not broken, not bloody, not feral and confused. He wants Mikey home again. Home in his own body.

Raph starts crying. Although he's disappointed in himself for it, he is glad that he can finally get the tears out. He presses his face into his stuffed animals, trying to get it all out all at once.

Raph hates himself so much right now...

Because...

Because it is all his fault...

"...But I don't see WHY we have to wait!" Raph gripes, Mikey sitting beside him, drawing random doodles on his arm wraps while he listens to the rant. "If we know that the place is doing villain stuff, shouldn't we go in to stop em?"

"I mean, Leo's decision does make a little sense," Mikey counters, taking a big yellow marker out and drawing a smiling sun on Raph's arm. "It's a pretty big building, dude."

"I'm not saying we storm the castle," he responds, waving his arms in exasperation.

Mikey scolds him and brings his arm back down to continue his work.

"I'm just saying that we could scope out the place instead of ignoring it completely!"

"We're not ignoring it," Mikey corrects. "Donnie is gonna run surveillance on it. Leo's gonna have Cass and the girl scouts check it out. Besides, when did you become the go-getter? I thought you and your Raph-chasm would have preferred taking it slow and safe!"

"Raph-chasm?!" he sputters. "Is Leo spreading that slander around?"

Mikey giggles.

"You do know we've been calling it that for years, right?"

Raph growls angrily.

"Dang it, Leo..."

Mikey giggles again.

"But for real, Raph... why are you so antsy?"

"I don't know... just a gut feeling. There's been reports of all kinds of crazy stuff since the invasion, and most of it has something to do with that new organization Donnie and April told us about..."

"What did they call it again? ESP?"

"EPF," Raphael corrects. "Earth Protection Force, or some junk."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Mikey hums, taking out a blue marker and drawing a mini version of Leo on Raph.

"Maybe, but it bothers me that they're everywhere." Raph shudders. "It's unsettling. What if they find us?"

"Find us...?" Mikey turns his head up. "What do you think they'd do?"

"I don't know. But I don't trust em. Something about it all just... bugs me."

Mikey is quiet for a second. He places the cap on his marker. He's managed to draw everyone in the family but himself.

"Well, if it bugs you, then... let's go check em out!"

"Wait, huh?"

"You're gut says they're untrustworthy? Then that's enough for me!" he says, jumping up from his spot. "Let's go see how bad they are."

"But... Leo said..."

"Weren't you the one just complaining about how you didn't think we should stand still and do nothing?" Mikey challenges.

"I know. But Leo is the leader, and I want to show him that I trust him."

"We do!" Mikey exclaims. "We're not storming a castle, we're checking out the scene. Leo wants to wait until we can get some actual intel? Then let's help him along! Let's grab a few listening devices or something and place them along the windows."

"Well... that would help... but we leave at the first sign of trouble, okay?"

"Absolutely!" Mikey salutes. "Now, am I breaking into Donnie's labs to get the spy stuff or are you?"

Raph chuckles as he stands, cracking his knuckles.

"You get the spy equipment, I'll get the weapons. Meet you at the tank."

The two give quick nods before heading off in separate directions.

Raph rushes to the training room and grabs the weapons. It is only then that he sees Mikey's doodles.

Oh, he should change his wraps. He doesn't have time to clean them off, and besides, he knows Mikey prefers to take pictures of all his doodles before getting rid of them.

Raph quickly grabs his sai and Mikey's nunchucks before heading to his room, grabbing a spare roll of black bandages, and carefully but speedily removing the one on his right arm. He just needs to replace the one arm, Mikey hasn't gotten to decorating the left yet. Maybe when they get back he can finish it...

He races back to the tunnel, seeing Mikey leaning against the ginormous tire of the turtle tank as he waits.

"There you are! Ready to go?"

"Sure thing. Do you wanna try driving tonight?"

"Can I?" Mikey asks with excitement.

"Sure, why not? You need the practice."

Mikey squeals with delight as he climbs in, Raph following suit.

The two drive away, making plans while Raph gives Mikey impromptu driving lessons. They joke, they laugh, Raph clings to his seat when Mikey's turns come in too sharply.

"Park over there," Raph says, pointing to an alley closeby to the targeted building.

Mikey nods with an "aye-aye, cap'n!" as he makes another sharp turn and hides the tank in the alley, activating a cloaking device Donnie came up with recently.

"Okay, got the listening doohickeys?"

"Right here!" Mikey says, reaching out and producing several small, round baubles with purple centers.

"Alright, so all we're gonna do is ninja up there, ninja a few of these around the perimeter, and then ninja out."

"That sounds just like the time future Leo saved a war camp!" Mikey giggles. "Or whatever Casey Jr. said."

"Uh, okay?" Raph offers. "I'll pretend like I understood that."

The two exit the vehicle and slink around the block, coming up on the building.

It looks like a normal building. No more than 13 stories, small windows with frosted glass, a rotating door that leads to a small lobby, a few security guards and an intern behind a desk. There's graffiti on the side of the wall, with what looks like an artist's rendition of the 'New York Heroes'. Mikey takes a quick selfie with it before getting back to the unsanctioned mission.

"You take the left side, I'll take the right," Raph whispers. "We don't have a lot of listening gadgets, so use 'em sparingly. Got it?"

"Got it!" Mikey whispers back.

He takes his chucks out and swings them up. A long glowing chain activates, and Mikey starts to scale the wall, swinging to the opposite side.

Raph starts pressing the small devices to the wall, doing two for each floor. Once the gadgets stick to the bricks, the purple centers start to blink.

After about five minutes, Raph's phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see that he's getting a call from Donnie.

Uh-oh.

He declines the call.

He presses two more devices to the wall before Donnie calls him again. Raph groans and pulls the phone out, answering it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Raphala, where are you?" Donnie asks. His tone sounds cheerful and fake. He can tell he's seething.

"Um, nowhere..."

"Nowhere? Really? Then, would you care to explain to me why I am getting bombarded with notifications about my spy tech being activated? And why when I checked the garage, the tank was gone? And why I cannot find you, nor Mikey, nor your gear anywhere within the lair??"

"Um... bad connection?" Raph tries.

"What are you doing."

"Nuthin'," Raph says, his voice squeaking. He clears his throat and tries again. "Just, y'know... ninja stuff."

"I can clearly see your location, Raph."

"Shoot, I forgot about that," he hisses. "I mean, uh..."

"Is that Raph?" Leo's voice comes into the call.

"Oh no," he groans.

"Let me talk to him."

"You had your chance," Donnie speaks into the phone, before handing it over to Leo.

"Raph. Where are you. What are you and Mikey doing with the listening devices."

"Okay, well, we were thinking," he starts, moving away from the alley for a moment as he talks with Leo on the phone. "We were thinking that maaayyybeee it would be a good idea to get some surveillance on the EPF place before our next big mission, and so --"

"And so you ignore the fact that I said to wait?!" Leo yells angrily. "Raph, we TALKED about this! I thought you said you were gonna let me be leader without pulling these kinds of stunts behind my back!"

"I'm not pulling any stunt! All we're doing is setting up the devices, then leaving! We just wanted to try and see if we could get any intel on them to help! We're not stupid enough to just go in and mess around, ya know!"

"Where's Mikey?" Leo asks exasperatedly. "He isn't answering his phone."

Raph turned back to look at the building he's walked away from. He looks up, and can see Mikey standing on the roof, looking around.

"He's on the roof," Raph sighs. "I'll go and get him."

Raph puts Leo on hold as he runs back to the building. Once in the alley, he starts jumping between walls, doing impressive parkour as he bounces back and forth and flips off of fire escapes until he's at the roof.

But Mikey isn't there.

Raph walks to the other side of the roof and looks over the edge.

Mikey isn't on the ground.

He notices a vent panel has been jimmied open.

"Oh no."

Raph grabs his phone.

"Um, Leo? I think he went in..."

"WHAT?!" Leo screams at him, causing Raph to pull his phone away from his ear.

"Why would he go in?!"

"I don't know!" Raph whimpers. "I told him we were only doing the exterior--"

"You shouldn't be there at all!"

"Should I go in after him?"

"No, don't -- wait for a minute, call him, maybe he'll answer you."

"Okay, yeah, I'll do that," he says, trying not to panic. "Call you back soon."

Raph hangs up and quickly dials Mikey.

It rings once before he answers.

"Shello?" he whispers.

"Mikey? Where are ya?!" Raph hisses at him. "I thought we said no inside stuff!"

"I saw a weird van pull up," he explains. "They took a krangified person in through the back."

"They what?"

"Yeah, I know. I wanted to see what they were gonna do with him."

"Mikey, I think you should get outta there," Raph whimpers.

"I will in just a sec, I think I found the room where... huh..."

Mikey's voice trails off.

"Mikey? Mikey, what is it?"

"I'm not sure... hold on a sec, 'kay?" Mikey whispers, his voice soft and secretive.

"Mikey, get out of there, now!" Raph scolds.

Mikey doesn’t respond.

Raph waits for him to say something. Anything. He hears Mikey gasp quietly.

"Ohmigosh," he whimpers. His voice is weak and his breathing fast. "Okay, that's enough for me, I'm coming out now!"

"Mikey?! What did you see, what's going on?"

He hears a clattering sound, a stifled gasp, muffled shouting.

"I dropped my phone," Mikey whimpers in fear. "I think they heard me."

"GET OUT NOW!" Raph yells. He dials Leo, adding him to the call.

"Raph? What's going --"

"Mikey's been made," Raph says in a panic.

"Get ouy of there, now!"

"Leo?" Mikey whispers nervously. "Is that you?"

"Mikey, we're on our way now, just get out as fast as you can! Don't worry about whether or not you're seen, just get out!"

"I'm trying!" Mikey cries nervously. "I'm stuck in the vents!!"

Raph hears a loud clang, followed by Mikey's screams and a thud.

"There he is!"

"Get him!"

"Come'ere, kid!"

Mikey yells in protest, terrified screams as he shouts at them to 'let me go, stop, leave me alone!'

Raph yells out into the phone. He's not sure what he yells, only that he wants Mikey back. He hears Leo yelling, too.

"Raph! Leo!" Mikey screams.

"MIKEY!!" the two yell back in unison.

The line goes dead.

A blue light ignites besides Raph, and Leo jumps through immediately, gasping for air as he stares down at Raph, who is on his hands and knees, holding the phone like it was Mikey's only lifeline.

"Where is he?" Leo pants. "Where is Mikey?"

Raph can't do anything but shake.

Mikey got captured... Because of him...

Raph lifts his face from the army of plushies he has been confiding in.

He takes in a deep breath.

He stands, going to a drawer and pulling out the wraps from that day. Almost a week ago.

The drawings are still there. The sketches and doodles are all intact. The image of a family is there, with each member colour-coded. Red, Blue, Purple... but it's missing their Orange brother. He never did get to finish that portrait.

Raphael leaves his train car and walks over to Mikey's. The door is wide open.

Inside, he sees Leo, slumped over on a beanbag chair and snoring softly, his mouth fallen open.

He hadn't said anything about sleeping in here.

He must've wanted to check on Mikey, too...

Raph grabs of one the extra blankets and pillows and adjusts his brother so that he can sleep more comfortably.

He takes residence in another beanbag chair opposite him.

Once settled, Raphael watches Mikey, who is sleeping peacefully and undisturbed, his tail swinging from side to side and his claws twitching on occasion.

Raph sighs.

Tears silently streak down his face as he cries himself to sleep.

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shirefantasies · 7 hours

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This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.

The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Balin

His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.

Dwalin

“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.

Thorin

His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”

Oin

His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”

Gloin

His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."

Bifur

Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”

Bofur

“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”

Bombur

Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”

Dori

"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."

Nori

“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”

Ori

“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”

Fili

You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."

Kili

"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."

Bilbo

“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”

Thranduil

Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.

Bard

He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”

Beorn

He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.

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4littlefishies · 3 days

Text

The 36th Floor - Something to Cherish

satoru gojo x suguru geto

warnings: none

wc: 8.7k

previous chapter here

“Sugu, give me attentionnn. I’ll leave you alone after, I promise!” Satoru draws out his demand as he drapes his body over the chair that sits next to his couch. He would normally be sitting on the couch next to Suguru, but his spot is currently being taken over by numerous different stacks of papers.

Suguru sits with one leg draped over the side of the couch with the other sitting up on the coffee table that’s also covered in an organized mess of papers. “Toru, I’m busy and we just ate dinner together not that long ago, and we both know that promise is not true.” He continues clicking away at his laptop as he talks. Satoru lifts his head up, looking over at him with a pout and his eyebrows furrowed. Suguru ignores the look that he knows he’s on the receiving end of and Satoru lets his head fall back over the chair once again. “Don’t you remember how busy we were before the Shanghai trip? I’m just as busy right now, if not more.” Suguru says, his voice still sweet in tone.

“But you’re leaving me.” Satoru whines.

“Yep, and I’m never coming back.” Suguru teases, the smirk loud in his voice. Satoru’s head shoots back up with a gasp.

“What?!” He cries out dramatically, playing along and looking at Suguru with wide eyes.

“You heard me.” Suguru finally looks over at Satoru, his bangs hanging in front of his face and the rest of his hair falling over his bare tattooed shoulders and chest. A sight that Satoru would look at all day if Suguru would let him.

“You’re coming back on Monday.” Satoru sits up, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Yes… and?” Suguru asks, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, waiting for Satoru to finish his thought.

“So you’re not never coming back.” Satoru says, very matter-of-factly, looking over at Suguru with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, somebody should get you a detective award or something.” Suguru retorts flatly, raising his eyebrows as he looks back to his laptop screen.

“Yeah, you’re right but Gugu, pay attention to meee.” Satoru draws out again just as he did the first time. Suguru takes a breath and lets it out with a long sigh before closing his laptop and setting it on the coffee table. As he consolidates his papers, Satoru is already standing up from his spot on the chair and cheerfully hurrying over to sit down on the couch next to Suguru. He immediately wraps his arms around Suguru’s shoulders, pulling himself in closer as he sits down and throws his legs across his lap.

Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s torso, pulling him more onto his lap and in for a deep kiss. Satoru smiles against his lips as they both breathe in deeply, letting out satisfied sighs into each other’s mouths. “It’s only for two nights, at least.” Suguru says sweetly, trying to make them both feel better as he pulls back, allowing Satoru to lay his head down in the crook of his neck.

“But it’s the weekend! I won’t even have work to distract me until you get back!” Satoru shoots back.

“You’ll be fine. Why don’t you hang out with Shoko or something?” Suguru suggests as his warm hand makes its way under Satoru’s shirt to rub gentle circles on the smooth skin of his back. “Although, she might be in bed all day tomorrow after tonight.” He continues. They had gone out for their Friday night drinks, and Shoko was staying out with Utahime and Haibara when the two of them were leaving and heading back to Satoru’s for the night.

Satoru reflexively calms at the feeling of Suguru’s hands on his back, his large hand warm against his skin. He stops for a moment, just feeling Suguru’s hand trace around in gentle circles before opening his mouth again. “Can’t Nanami take someone else?” He asks with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Why can’t he take one of the interns or something?” Suguru chuckles lightly at Satoru’s idea.

“Yeah? Would you rather Ino be in a cubicle next to you instead of me, too?” Suguru asks, continuing to rub his back softly and slowly.

“You know that’s not what I meant… Why is he taking you?”

“It’s kinda my job, Satoru.” Suguru cranes his neck to look at Satoru and raises an eyebrow at him, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “You jealous?”

“Yeah, of Nanami. He gets to spend all weekend with you.” Satoru lifts his head and says with a smile, making Suguru laugh lightly.

“Yeah, well you’re the one I’m coming home to. Not him.” Suguru looks into Satoru’s eyes with a smile while Satoru’s cheeks warm at his comment, putting a grin on his face. “And you have me tonight and tomorrow morning too. It’s only 48 hours.”

“That’s so many hours though!” Satoru cries out as he buries his head back into Suguru’s neck. His arm is held around the back of Suguru’s neck as he hides himself there.

“You’ll survive.” Satoru groans at his response not being the answer he was looking for. “I promise I’ll talk to you as often as I can, okay?” Suguru says sweetly, his other hand now holding the back of Satoru’s head, lightly massaging at his scalp. The snow white hair is soft in between his fingers until he scratches lightly at Satoru’s undercut. The short hairs slightly tickle Suguru’s fingers as he runs over it, the feeling familiar and soothing.

“What if I just come with you?” Satoru suggests, trying to find any way possible to not have to be apart for ‘so many hours’. Suguru chuckles lightly at his desperate pleas, craning his neck once again and watching as Satoru closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Suguru’s head rub.

“Satoru,” He says, sounding like a stern mother, “You’re going to stay here and you’re going to have a good weekend without me.”

“But what if I don’t?”

Suguru shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “Then you don’t, I guess.” Satoru sits quietly, just the sounds of their breathing and soft music playing through the speakers. “I’ll see you Monday morning though… I’ll bring you breakfast.” Suguru says sweetly, trying to make Satoru feel better about him leaving for the weekend.

Satoru kisses the side of Suguru’s head, feeling his soft hair against his lips. “You better.” He furrows his brows as he says it, his nose slightly scrunching with his cheeky smirk. “I’m really glad Nanami is finally seeing how good you are at your job.” Satoru says softly, changing the subject as he lifts his head once again. “You deserve a promotion.” Suguru smiles at his soft voice.

“You think so?” Suguru looks up at Satoru, their faces just inches apart. Satoru nods his head quickly.

Satoru reassures him, his voice soft and sweet. “Definitely. I think you should get his job.” Suguru chuckles at his ridiculous seeming suggestion. “Don’t laugh. You’d be really good at it. And… You’d probably get mad at me less than him for being late…” Suguru chuckles lightly before Satoru continues. “And you could bring your boyfriend on business trips with you.” He grumbles, still upset that Suguru’s leaving for the weekend.

“I beg to differ.” Suguru shoots back, pulling a laugh from both of them. “I think you’d piss me off just as much as you do him.” Suguru says, giving Satoru’s torso a tight squeeze and ignoring his latter comment. “At least I could really punish you for it though.” His voice is deep as he grasps Satoru’s hair, pulling his head back slightly to allow him to shove his face into his neck, leaving a few tender kisses behind before pulling back away.

“Yeah?” Satoru asks shakily, trying to sound as if his body isn’t nearly melting at the feeling of Suguru’s lips on his neck. He grips onto Suguru’s arm tightly, feeling his cheeks heat up as he hums, satisfied at the feeling.

“Mhmm.” He hums with a smile. “Like when you’re distracting me from doing work that needs to be done.” He looks up at Satoru with an eyebrow cocked, trying to get him to understand the hint he’s giving.

Satoru understands what he’s trying to say, but chooses to play dumb instead, trying to get his way. “Hm. Maybe you should do something about it then.” He says, looking down at Suguru with his bright blues half lidded. Lowering his face towards Suguru’s neck once more, but this time his lips press softly just underneath his jaw. He feels as Suguru’s hand presses harder against his back and smiles as he continues to leave tender kisses all over his neck. After a few moments longer, he sits back up, looking down at Suguru with a pout on his lips.

Suguru smiles at the sight, spreading his fingers out wide over Satoru’s back and pulling him in for one last kiss. He inhales deeply, taking in everything that Satoru’s giving him. Satoru’s lips are so soft against his own that he doesn’t mind when the kiss deepens and he feels Satoru’s hands tangled in his hair. He nips lightly at Satoru’s bottom lip, holding it lightly in between his teeth for a moment before letting go and looking up at him, their mouths still touching. “Why don’t you go pick some dessert?” He suggests against his lips, trying to get Satoru off of him so he can finish his work.

“Want you for dessert.” Satoru says, looking down at Suguru with a frown. He slowly moves his hips where he sits in Suguru’s lap, continuing to run his hands through his long dark silky smooth hair.

“You really are just asking for it aren’t you?”

“Yes, Suguru. That’s literally what I’m doing, thanks for finally noticing.” Satoru says back, his tone sarcastic.

Suguru clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “In that case… No.” He deludes, looking up at Satoru with raised eyebrows as he waits for him to stand up. Satoru’s face drops as he realizes that he’s not going to get what he wants.

“Don’t think that I can’t feel you getting hard under me.” Satoru teases as he reluctantly stands up and heads to the kitchen, pulling a soft chuckle from Suguru who can feel the heat in the tips of his ears.

“Shut up and bring something good back.” Suguru says, picking up his laptop once again to try and focus on his work and ignore the ache between his legs. For the rest of the night, Suguru stays sprawled out on Satoru’s couch, working on last minute preparations before having to head to the bullet train station in the morning. He was spending the night at Satoru’s place not just because it was closer to the station, but also so that he could spend more time with Satoru before leaving. He would never admit it out loud, but he’s just as clingy to Satoru as Satoru is to him; just a little better at hiding it.

The two of them finally relax into Satoru’s bed, up against each other under the covers. “How am I gonna sleep without my Suguboo?” Satoru asks, his voice quiet as he speaks into Suguru’s ear. Suguru’s back is pressed against Satoru’s chest, and Satoru drapes his arm over Suguru’s chest, pulling him close as if he’s going to run away.

“Probably with your eyes closed.” Suguru says flatly, his eyes already closed and his hand resting on top of Satoru’s, holding it softly.

“I’m gonna hide your shoes so you can’t leave.”

“You’re gonna-” He stops to laugh at the ridiculous comment. “You’re gonna what?”

“You heard me. I’m gonna hide your shoes so you can’t leave in the morning.”

“What a weirdly specific threat.” Suguru continues, still lightly chuckling as he says it.

Satoru smiles into Suguru’s hair. “Good though, right?” He asks, trying to get affirmation that it was indeed a good idea.

Suguru sleepily laughs again. “Yeah that would be pretty good.” His thumb lightly caresses the back of Satoru’s hand before he gives it a light squeeze. He takes a long and slow breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m gonna miss you too, baby.” Satoru’s breath tickles the side of his neck just before he feels his soft lips leaving a kiss just above where his dragon tattoo ends.

“I know… I just wish I could go with you.” Satoru says, sounding slightly defeated, but also tired from the long day.

“I’m sorry baby…” Suguru says. It rolls off his tongue like honey, immediately making Satoru smile at the way he calls him baby. “We’ll go on a trip together soon, okay?”

“Other than TDL, right?” Satoru asks, suddenly excited and wanting to make sure that he meant two separate things.

Suguru’s eyes grow heavier and heavier as he smiles, too sleepy to laugh anymore at this point. “Yes, Satoru, other than TDL.”

“Where?” Satoru asks, now eager to plan a vacation with Suguru.

“We can talk about it when I get back, okay?” Suguru suggests, fighting to stay awake at this point.

Satoru’s tired eyes widen at the possibilities. His mind starts racing with places that they could go. He makes it his mission to do research while Suguru’s gone and find where they should go on a trip. “Deal.” Satoru says softly, giving Suguru a light squeeze. “Goodnight Sugu.”

“Goodnight Toru.” Suguru grumbles, mostly asleep at this point. “I love you.” He manages to mumble out before almost immediately falling asleep. Satoru is not far behind and closes his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to Suguru’s shoulder and letting himself finally drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Their Saturday morning looks very similar to how a normal weekday morning would when the two of them are together. Suguru’s alarm goes off and he gets out of bed while Satoru stays and sleeps a bit longer. He heads out to the kitchen to make his coffee and start on some breakfast. Satoru had offered to buy everything Suguru needed so that he could make his “fancy coffee” at his apartment. He of course found it difficult to refuse, but politely did anyways, knowing how much everything would cost. The next time he was at Satoru’s he noticed the new chemex, bean grinder, and milk frother on the countertop. He can’t help but smile every time he uses them, knowing that Satoru just wanted him to be happy in his home.

After he’s done, he makes sure to set some food aside for Satoru once he finally wakes up. He feeds Shiro while he’s up so that Satoru doesn’t have to worry about it later. After downing the rest of his coffee and cleaning out the mug, he heads back into the bedroom.

Satoru remains under the blanket, but has migrated into the middle of his bed, sprawled out taking up as much space as possible. Suguru chuckles lightly at the sight as he heads into the bathroom, flicking on the bright vanity lights. “Satoru, if you want to shower, better do it now.” He calls out behind him as he goes to turn on the water. He runs a brush through his hair quickly before hanging on the doorway of the bathroom. “You coming?” He asks, seeing that Satoru has shifted in the bed.

“Mmmh.” He groans, still half asleep with his face still shoved into the pillows. Suguru chuckles to himself and heads back into the bathroom, slowly shedding his pants and stepping into the hot shower. He lets out a satisfied sigh as the water runs over his skin and saturates his hair, his bangs sticking to his forehead before he brushes them back out of his face.

Suguru goes through his quick routine and is about to turn off the shower when Satoru finally joins him in the bathroom, eyes mostly closed and already stripped of his pajamas. He watches as Satoru pulls open the door and steps inside, eyes still closed and a sleepy pout on his lips. “Good morning my sleeping beauty.” Suguru says, using Satoru’s own words on him. Satoru hums from deep in his chest as he steps under the water, wrapping his arms around Suguru’s neck and laying his head down as if he’s trying to fall back asleep. Suguru smirks as he feels Satoru’s hard length pressed up against him.

“Have a good dream?” Suguru asks, a teasing tone apparent in his voice. Satoru stands up off of him and opens his eyes just enough to glare at Suguru.

“Shut up…” Satoru grumbles, his voice gravely from sleep. “You were there, of course it was good.” Satoru stands under the water and closes his eyes once again, remembering the dream he was having and wishing he was still asleep. The dull throbbing between his legs isn’t going away; it’s practically begging for some relief. He hisses when he suddenly feels Suguru’s lips around his sensitive tip. His eyes shoot back open, now seeing Suguru kneeling in front of him.

“I’m sorry for teasing you last night.” Suguru starts as he brings his hand up to wrap around the base. “Will you ever forgive me, Toru?” He asks, his tone teasing and completely unapologetic with his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, his lips slightly parted as he looks down at the alluring view in front of him. Suguru presses soft kisses around Satoru’s hot tip, already beginning to leak precum. “You can’t apologize for teasing me by teasing me more, Sugu.” Satoru says, holding his hand underneath Suguru’s chin and looking down at him with begging eyes. He looks down at Suguru’s legs as he kneels, admiring how particularly strong and sculpted his legs looked at this moment.

“Can’t I?” Suguru asks, still unapologetically kissing slowly down his length and leaving soft kisses on the front of his thighs. The smirk on his face as he looks up is enough to drive Satoru absolutely mad.

“Suguu.” Satoru whines, his hips reflexively jerking forward, chasing any kind of friction he can get. He’s fully awake now, brushing his dripping hair back out of his face as he looks down at Suguru who smiles slyly back up at him.

Suguru watches the way Satoru squirms in front of him a moment longer before finally taking him into his mouth. He looks up through his eyelashes, their eyes meeting as Satoru lets out a satisfied moan, finally feeling the warmth and wetness of Suguru’s mouth wrapped around his needy length.

Satoru keeps eye contact, letting out a low groan at the feeling. “Fuck, Sugu,” He starts, but is quickly silenced when Suguru starts taking him deeper with every stroke of his lips. “Holy shit.” He breathily moans out, his mouth hanging open as he watches himself fully disappear into Suguru’s mouth as he swallows the whole thing. He grips tightly onto Suguru’s shoulder, his fingertips desperately digging into the flesh. The feeling of the hot water falling on his back is pushed to the side, more important matters making him completely unaware that the water is even still on.

Looking up at him with innocent eyes, Suguru pulls off of him for a moment, continuing his pace with his hand. “You’re doing so good for me baby, are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?”

Satoru nods his head, holding his bottom lip in between his teeth. “Mmhm.�� He whines, looking down at Suguru as he moves with a smile to replace his hand with his mouth once again. “Ah- ngh, fuck.” He whimpers, his legs starting to feel like jelly underneath him. He brushes his fingers gently through Suguru’s hair on both sides of his head, gathering all of his hair and holding it in his fist at the back of his head. “My Sugu- ah- my- Sugu’s so pretty.” He manages to choke out as he holds his hair, watching amazed at the way he takes all of him into his mouth. He can’t help but buck his hips forward, letting out another moan as he feels his tip hip the back of Suguru’s throat.

He looks down, as if to apologize, but Suguru is looking back up at him with inviting eyes. Suguru nods his head, knowing that the both of them have the same idea. Without even giving it a second thought, Satoru starts moving at his own pace while Suguru stills, relaxing his throat more and letting Satoru continue. The bathroom is quickly filled with Satoru’s moans and lewd noises as he lets himself go.

Suguru’s fingers grip tightly onto the back of Satoru’s thighs, helping to hold him up as he lets him fuck into his throat. He’s more than happy to let Satoru abuse the back of his throat with his throbbing tip, contently watching as Satoru’s eyes roll back in his head and his eyelashes flutter rapidly, barely able to stand from the feeling. “Ah, fuck fuck fuck.” Satoru mewls, nearing the edge of his climax. The feeling of his grip on Suguru’s hair is more than enough to tell him that Satoru’s almost there. “Gonna cum- ha, ah fuck- Sugu, cumming!” He shakily cries out as Suguru feels him twitching in his mouth and cumming down his throat. His hips slow as Suguru picks back up for him, sucking and swallowing every drop that Satoru has to give him.

Satoru grabs onto Suguru’s shoulder with his free hand, his legs feeling like they could give out at any moment. He lets out a breath with a shudder, closing his eyes and breathing heavily as Suguru stands up in front of him. “You think that’ll hold you off until Monday?” Suguru jokes with a sly smirk.

Satoru smiles, still panting as he wraps his arms around Suguru’s shoulders, pulling him in for a long kiss. He feels Suguru’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him even closer, still helping to hold him upright. “I think you just made it harder for me to let you leave.” Satoru whispers against Suguru’s lips. They both smile before Suguru leaves him with one more quick peck before turning around and squeezing as much water out of his hair as he can, preparing once again to get out of the shower.

“Okay, we gotta get out now.” He says, reaching for the shower door.

“Wait! You distracted me and I haven’t even done anything I need to in here.” Satoru protests, trying to hold the door closed.

“Satoru, I have to dry my hair. You can stay in, but I’m leaving here at 8 with or without you.” Suguru says, letting Satoru know he’s completely serious with just his face. Satoru nods his head and lets go of the door, letting Suguru pull it open. The next thing heard is a slap that rings out throughout the steamy bathroom, and Suguru immediately feels a sting on his ass. He turns around only to see Satoru standing under the water with a shit eating grin. He looks back at him with a straight smile and an eyebrow cocked, just his face alone saying ‘really?’

Before Satoru can do anything to protect himself, Suguru steps back into the shower and starts tickling him relentlessly. When he can’t think of anything else to get Satoru back for whatever he’s doing or done, usually then Suguru resorts to tickling him instead.

“Sugu, no!” He starts, his irrepressible laugh filling the bathroom. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it! Sugu no!” He does his best to push Suguru away, but finds himself feeling too weak to do anything. “No really! I’m gonna piss my pants!” He cries out, despite still being in the shower and not wearing any pants. He’s doubled over, trying to shield himself, his core still sore from his recent orgasm and now from the uncontrollable laughter.

Suguru stops after that comment, shaking his head with a smile. “Stupid.” He chuckles softly. “Hurry up.” He says as he opens the door behind his back, not trusting that Satoru wouldn’t smack his ass again. Satoru turns back around, grabbing his shampoo from the shelf when Suguru smacks his ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Ah!” Satoru yelps out, the bottle falling to the ground with a loud bang. He whips his head around to Suguru who’s already out of the shower with the door closed behind him. “I did not hit you that hard!” Satoru shouts, the glass slightly muffling his voice as Suguru dries himself off.

“Thought I’d give you something to cherish while I’m gone.”

“Most people leave a love note, flowers, hell, maybe even something sweet! But no, I’m left with a five star at 28 years old.” Satoru continues rambling on and on while Suguru continues his after shower routine.

“If you want, I can give you a matching one on the other side.” Suguru suggests sarcastically, turning around to look at Satoru as he hears the water shut off. Satoru opens the door and steps out, quickly drying himself off and joining Suguru at the counter as he dries his hair. He looks at Suguru, making eye contact with him in the mirror. He doesn’t say anything, just wiggling his eyebrows as he hangs up the towel. As soon as he turns around, Suguru leaves a hard smack on the other side of his ass.

Satoru immediately responds with an overdramatic fake moan, looking at Suguru as it leaves his mouth. Suguru tries to contain his chuckle, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. “Idiot.” He says with a smile as he meets Satoru with his hands going to rest on his bare hips before their lips meet. Satoru rests his hands in the same spot on Suguru’s hips as they share a slow tender kiss. Satoru’s fingers fidget with the towel that’s tied low on his hips, sticking his thumbs between the towel and his skin before loosening it enough that it falls to the floor. Suguru smiles against Satoru’s lips as he feels it fall away before pulling away and bending over to pick it up, the smile still on his lips. “Get dressed.” He says, hanging it up and heading out of the bathroom. Satoru lets out a groan before following him into his closet to get dressed. Once they’re both dressed, Suguru looks like he’s ready to go to work, while Satoru looks like he’s ready for a run through the park.

“Sugu?” Satoru asks, knowing that Suguru is about to do his hair. Suguru looks over at him from where he stands behind the couch, waiting for Satoru to finish his sentence. “Can I brush your hair?” He asks, looking down at the brush in Suguru’s hand.

Suguru is caught slightly by surprise, but smiles at the question before looking down at his watch. Much to his delight, they’re running a little bit ahead, so he happily agrees. He sits down in one of the arm chairs by the window and drapes his hair over the back, letting it flow down freely. Satoru pulls the other chair up behind the one Suguru sits in and sits down, spreading his knees wide and leaning forward. He starts at the ends, gently brushing them out and working his way up until he’s slowly brushing from Suguru’s scalp all the way down to the ends. Suguru lets out a satisfied sigh, letting his head fall back as Satoru continues brushing, the bristles feeling good against his head. He remembers back to the first time Satoru had asked to brush his hair and what a mess that was. In mere seconds, he somehow made it worse than it was to begin with, and Suguru was sure he had a bald spot somewhere from Satoru pulling so hard. After that disaster, Suguru then taught him how he should brush his hair. “You’re so good at this, baby.” Suguru praises sweetly, leaning his head back even more to look up at Satoru with a smile on his face.

Satoru smiles wide and drops the brush to his side before leaning down to kiss Suguru, their noses hitting each other’s chins as their lips come together. Satoru goes back in for two, three kisses before standing back up and finishing brushing out Suguru’s hair before handing the brush back to him.

“Thank you, baby.” Suguru says, his voice quiet yet just as sweet and syrupy as ever as he takes the brush from him. He had taught Satoru how he ties his hair up as well, but he usually just preferred to do it himself so that it was exactly how he wanted it every time.

The summer morning air is warm, it being the middle of July. The light breeze makes the light beaming down from the sun feel absolutely perfect. After they begin on their way to the bullet train station, Satoru grabs Suguru’s bag from him, carrying it for him as they walk. “I can carry that, Toru.” Suguru says, looking over and shoving his hands into his pockets as they walk down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, but I’m the stronger one, so I should carry it for you.” Satoru says confidently, his chest held proud as he carries the bag that a kindergartener could carry with no issue.

“You’re the stronger one?” Suguru asks, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Of course I am!”

Suguru lets out a scoff that turns into a chuckle. “I’d like to see how you would prove that.”

“Oh I don’t need to prove it, it’s just the truth.” Satoru says, seeming like he’s even convinced himself. Suguru smiles with his tongue in his cheek.

“Whatever you say, dear.” Suguru says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, shaking his head as they continue towards their destination.

“Don’t say that like you don’t believe it.” Satoru says, raising his eyebrows at Suguru.

“Until you can give me hard proof, I’m not buying that for a second. Maybe between you and Shoko, because I know you don’t mean between the two of us.” Suguru continues on with a light laugh.

Satoru furrows his brows and twists his mouth to the side, sticking his free hand into Suguru’s pocket to grab his hand and lace their fingers together as they walk. Suguru smiles, pulling their hands out of his pocket and giving Satoru’s hand a squeeze. The station comes into view as they quickly approach the large red building covered in white windows. They make their way inside the busy station along with the myriad of people coming and going.

Suguru takes his bag back from Satoru as they approach an empty bench. He sets it down and quickly texts Nanami to let him know where he’s at before turning to look at Satoru with a soft smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my sweet.” Satoru says, wrapping his arms around Suguru’s shoulders and pulling him for a tight hug and kissing him on the cheek. “Have a good trip, but don’t have too much fun without me.”

Suguru chuckles just before their hug breaks apart. “I’ll try not to.” He says, looking at Satoru with a soft smile, not ready to leave him just yet. He leaves a quick peck on Satoru’s lips, not wanting to do much more in such a busy place. “You have a good weekend, okay? Enjoy your run, I’ll get you something good from Kyoto.” Satoru nods his head with a smile before pulling Suguru in for one last hug, squeezing him extra tight before letting go.

Suddenly, Satoru’s eyes widen as he looks over Suguru’s shoulder to see Nanami from a distance, walking in their direction. Suguru turns over his shoulder to see him, waving as he approaches. “Good morning Nanami!” Satoru says with a big smile on his face.

Nanami presses his lips together, taking a deep breath as he makes it to them. “Good morning, Gojo.” He says dully with a straight smile before looking over to Suguru as well. “Good morning, Geto. Ready to go?”

“Yep!” He says before quickly turning and leaning back towards Satoru. Nanami turns to look in the direction they need to head to get to their train while Suguru rests his hand on Satoru’s hip for a quick second as he whispers a hurried, “Love you, bye.”

“Bye.” Satoru whispers back before their lips meet one last time with a quick peck before Suguru turns back around to Nanami, following him to where they need to go.

Satoru watches as they walk towards their platform, waving at Suguru with a smile when he turns around one last time before disappearing out of sight. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a forced sigh, turning and heading back towards the front doors. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his headphones and sticks them into his ears before opening his phone and finding his playlist that he runs to. He presses play and takes off, running back towards his apartment to start off his weekend without Suguru.

~~~~~~~~~~

Suguru and Nanami make it onto their train with plenty of time to spare, both of them being pretty punctual people. Suguru definitely didn’t want to relive the nightmare of running through the airport on his and Satoru’s trip to Shanghai, so he made sure to be there early. They get settled into their seats, Suguru sitting in the one closest to the window, and both pull out their laptops, prepared to work during the couple hours it takes to get to Kyoto.

The train just starts to pull away when Suguru’s phone vibrates on the tray in front of him. He picks it up and reads the text from Satoru.

‘We miss you already!’

The text is accompanied by a picture of a very sweaty but smiley Satoru and a peaceful looking Shiro. He smiles before setting it back down, not wanting to be on his phone while Nanami is working right next to him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh, trying to rid himself of the tight feeling in his chest, already missing Satoru and wishing he were here with them. Not even just as his boyfriend, but as coworkers. Satoru made the work day much more bearable and entertaining, making it seem to pass by quicker.

“Everything alright?” Nanami asks, noticing the sigh that Suguru lets out as he sets his phone back down to the side of his laptop.

“Yeah, it’s just Satoru…” Suguru responds sheepishly. The entire office knows about their relationship at this point, but he still feels kind of awkward talking about it to their boss.

Nanami chuckles lightly, taking a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “My wife’s the same… I mean, I go away for work all the time but she never makes it easy to leave.” He has a smile as he says it, thinking about her.

“No kidding.” Suguru says with a breathy chuckle. He feels slightly better thinking about how he’s feeling. At least it’s not just me.

“It just makes coming home even better, though.” Nanami adds, noticing the tenseness and hoping his words give Suguru some comfort.

Aside from this brief departure, their conversation stays about work the entire time; going over numbers, ways that Suguru can help Nanami better while they’re there, things that they can talk about if they get asked about x, y, or z. They were prepared for anything. The two and a half hours seem to go by in a flash and before either of them know it, the train is approaching their stop. They gather their things and make it off quickly and head out towards the front of the station to find their ride.

Once they make it into the car, Nanami lays out their plan for the day. “We’re staying in the same hotel that the conference is in, so that’s a plus.” He explains. “We’ll drop off our things and then head to our first meeting in the conference hall.”

Suguru makes note of all the times Nanami is explaining. He’s glad to learn that their day is going to be over by 7 and their first meeting tomorrow isn’t until 10, so he doesn’t have to get up super early either. He quickly texts Satoru right before they make it to the hotel.

‘Just made it to the hotel’ His fingers quickly type out another message. ‘I’ll text you when I can 🖤’

Satoru’s response almost immediately comes back. ‘Shiro’s already telling me how much she misses u ☹️’

Suguru smiles down at his phone, sending his final response as they pull up to the hotel.

‘Tell her I miss her just as much’

The two of them make it inside with all of their belongings and Nanami gets them checked in. “Good thing I had Ijichi get us an early check in time.” He says, handing Suguru the key to his room. Their rooms are up on the 7th floor, so they head towards the elevator. The lobby is filled with people, similarly to them, there for the conference. The chatter of the crowd is muffled and fades as the elevator doors close, taking them up to their floor.

“You’re in 716 and I’m right across the hall in 717.” Nanami says as they round the corner after exiting the elevator into the hallway. Suguru follows him down towards their rooms before heaching his. “Meet downstairs in-'' he looks down at his watch, “15 minutes?” Nanami says as they both turn to open their doors.

“Yes sir.” Suguru says with a smile as they both head into their separate rooms. Suguru closes the door and sets his bag down before turning on the light. He looks at the single bed in the room and is immediately brought back to the Shanghai trip with Satoru. He chuckles lightly to himself, all these months later still unable to believe that Shoko convinced Ijichi to get them a room with only one bed in it. He opens the curtains, looking out at the view and letting some light in before he lays down on top of the covers, stretching out with a groan after sitting for so long on the train. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that Satoru had responded to his text.

‘Her daddy misses you more 🥺’

Suguru rolls his eyes with a smile. There’s my Satoru. His fingers quickly work to facetime Satoru. He’s not surprised when it doesn’t even finish ringing once before Satoru answers.

“Hi Sugu!” Satoru exclaims, a wide smile on his face and his eyes nearly squeezed shut from it.

“Daddy? Really?” Suguru asks, raising his eyebrows at Satoru through the screen, a slight smirk on his face. He holds the phone above his face as he lays back on the bed.

“I’m Shiro’s daddy, Suguru, whether you like it or not.” Satoru responds. Suguru lets out a sigh that turns into a chuckle. “How was the ride?” He continues, genuinely wanting to know how Suguru’s been in the 4 long hours they’d been apart.

“It was good. We finished pretty much everything we needed to, so we’re all set for today.” Suguru brings his arm up to slide his hand under the back of his head. “What have you been up to?” Suguru was also curious as to what Satoru was doing without him. He watches as Satoru walks around his living room and eventually plops down in the chair next to his couch.

“I’m going over to Shoko’s in a little while, but I think I’m gonna head over to the cafe and grab some lunch before I go.” Satoru holds the phone in front of his face, looking past the screen and down at the ground where Shiro looks up at him.

“Tell Yuji I say hi.” Suguru says, knowing that if they aren’t there together, Yuji will ask where the other is. “So, Sho’s not hungover, I take it?”

“Don’t think so. Not enough to not hang out at least, but we’re just gonna be at her place anyways… When’s your first meeting?” Satoru asks, smiling at Suguru through the screen.

“I’m meeting Nanami downstairs in 10 minutes.” Suguru explains, looking at the time, making sure it isn’t secretly moving faster than he realizes. “I’ll call you again when I’m done, okay?”

“I will be patiently awaiting your call.” Satoru says sweetly.

“Both of us know you will not be patient.”

“What can I say? I miss my Sugu.”

Suguru chuckles lightly at his response. “Satoru, we haven’t even been apart for half a day.”

“But I still miss you!”

“We’re apart for longer on days when I don’t sleep over.”

“Yeah but at least we’re in the same city!” Satoru exclaims, trying to explain his reasoning. “And you’re not busy with work!”

“I know, I know…” Suguru takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh, a soft smile on his face. “I miss you too, baby.” Satoru smiles back at him.

“And we haven’t gone more than one night in a row without sleeping together in months! And now I have to do two?! It’s madness!” Satoru shouts, going back to his previous point.

“Oh, the horror.” Suguru plays along, a soft smile on his face as he watches how Satoru’s dramatic expressions and movements translate through the phone.

“I’ll start a worldwide movement.”

“Toru, I’ll be home before you even get that started.”

“Is that a challenge?” Satoru raises his eyebrows with an excited look on his face.

Suguru laughs, shaking his head as he sits up. “Not at all, actually.”

“Good.” Satoru starts. “I could definitely do it, but that sounds like a lot of work.” Suguru chuckles lightly before Satoru speaks up once more. “Okay sugarplum, I guess I’ll let you go to your big important work meetings.” Satoru says with a teasing tone in his voice.

Suguru smiles at the nickname, always excited to hear what new things Satoru will come up with. “I’ll talk to you once I get back up here later, okay?” He stands up and starts to slowly and aimlessly pace around.

“You better!”

“I will, I promise.” Suguru chuckles lightly at Satoru’s enthusiasm. “Have fun with Shoko, tell her I say hi.”

“I will, Sugu. I love you, have a good meeting!”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll talk to you later, bye.”

“Bye!” Satoru peeps out just before their facetime ends.

Suguru sets down his phone on the bathroom counter and brushes out and reties his hair back up, wishing that Satoru was here to brush it again as he did earlier in the morning. He lets out a sigh before slipping his phone and wallet into his pocket and heading out the door, ready to head downstairs and meet Nanami to really get their day started.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought you were bringing food.” Shoko says, looking unimpressed at an empty handed Satoru that stands at her front door with her eyebrows furrowed and her arms crossed.

“Happy Saturday to you too!” Satoru says, making his way past her and inside her apartment. “Why d’you look like you died and came back to life?”

Shoko scoffs, shuffling behind him with a rotten face as he heads through the kitchen and into the living room to sit himself down on the couch. “You are getting us food, right?” She asks, choosing to ignore his obnoxious question and getting right to the point. Falling into her normal corner spot on the couch, she looks at Satoru, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“Of course. I wanted to wait to see what you were feeling before getting anything.” Satoru responds, looking up at the tv to see what Shoko was watching. “What is this?” He asks, nodding his head up at the tv, curious as to what he’s looking at.

“The Bachelorette.” She says quickly brushing off the question, trying to focus on more important matters. “So what are we getting for dinner?”

“Find whatever you want and I’ll order it.” Satoru shoots back, now focused on the dramatic scene playing out on the tv. He opens his phone and tosses it over to her side of the couch so that she can pick what she wants. “So there’s just a bunch of guys and one girl?” Satoru asks, wanting to know more.

“Yeah, have you never seen it before?” Shoko asks, scrolling through her options.

“No.” Satoru sits back, crossing his arms and letting his knees fall away from each other. “I don’t really spend my time like that.” His mind immediately goes to Suguru, the thing that most of his free time was spent on.

“That sounded pretentious.” Shoko chuckles lightly as she says it, finally seeming to decide on something. “How do you feel about pizza?”

“Pizza’s fine.” He says, brushing off her first comment completely and continuing to watch the tv.

“Do you have a preference or…?” Shoko continues, waiting for an answer that doesn’t ever come. He just shakes his head, not even looking over at her. She finishes picking out what she wants and hands the phone back to Satoru. “Does that sound good?” She asks.

Satoru quickly looks and adds two small chocolate cakes and orders it. “It should be here in about 30 minutes, it looks like.” He says, setting his phone down on the couch beside him. Shoko gives him a thumbs up, pulling her blanket back over herself and cozying into the corner of the couch more. “Is this all you had planned today?” Satoru asks, gesturing his head up at the tv once again.

“Yeah, pretty much.” She says with a shrug. “Went a little too hard last night.”

“Why invite me over then?”

“So you could get me food.” Shoko says flatly. Satoru shakes his head with a smile on his face. “And-” She continues dramatically, “I know how clingy you two are. I figured you’d feel better if you were around someone else.” Satoru scoffs, holding his hand to his chest, but Shoko stops him before he can go any further. “And don’t try to bullshit me and say that isn’t true because I think we both know it’s the truth, Gojo.”

Satoru thinks about trying to argue, but he knows that she sees right through it. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up.” She shoots back.

Satoru shakes his head with a smile, focusing back on the show for a minute before he notices Kai come strolling out of the hallway leading towards her room. “Kai!” He lets out a projected whisper, not wanting to scare him back into hiding. He pats the couch a few times beside him, immediately enticing Kai to see what’s up. He hurries over, jumping up next to Satoru and starting to rub his face against his hand. “Hi buddy.” Satoru says as he turns to pet Kai with both hands. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I think he has a new favorite person.” Shoko pipes up. Satoru looks over at her with his brows furrowed.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Utahime’s been over a lot recently and he really likes her.” Shoko says, looking down at Kai as she speaks, a soft smile on her face.

“You sure it’s only him who really likes her?” Satoru asks, his teasing not concealed whatsoever. Shoko’s cheeks immediately turn pink at his question.

“Shut up.” Shoko says, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume on the tv slightly.

“Shoko, come on.” Satoru says, trying to get her to talk about it.

“We’re really good friends.” She says, not wanting to get deeper into it.

“Mmhm.” Satoru hums, seeming to finally take that for an answer. She thinks he’s done when there’s a long silence before he speaks up once again, the smirk on his face lacing itself to his voice. “Suguru and I were ‘really good friends’ at one point too.” Shoko quickly grabs the throw pillow beside her and literally throws it at Satoru, who effortlessly catches it. 5

“Gojo! I said shut up!” She shouts, her face getting progressively more pink as time goes on.

“I know it’s called a throw pillow, but I don’t think you’re actually supposed to throw them.” Satoru fluffs the pillow back up before setting it back on the couch beside Shoko. She groans and Satoru smiles, obviously proud of what he’s done. “I won’t tell anyone.” He says, looking over at her as she tries to sink herself deeper into the couch.

“Okay, can we just stop talking about this now?” She asks, feeling like her face is burning up.

“Yeah, because I need you to explain to me the whole premise of the show.” Shoko’s thankful that Satoru finally drops the subject and immediately switches gears to explain every detail possible to Satoru. He listens intently as she explains the show's inner workings and what’s already happened in the season thus far. Satoru continues asking questions very curiously, and Shoko continues to answer them until their food gets delivered.

They grab their food, opting to eat on the couch while they continue watching. They watch quietly for a while, more focused on their food than talking. Satoru grabs some more while Shoko sets her plate on the coffee table. “Have you talked to Geto?”

“For just a little bit right after he got there, but they pretty much immediately went into a meeting.” Satoru answers as he sits back down on the couch. His eyes look down at the ground, wondering what he’s up to at the moment. Probably sitting in some uncomfortable chair listening to some man talk about some new program that’s supposed to help raise their profits somehow.

Shoko nods her head, humming softly in response. “At least he’s not somewhere fun like Okinawa.” As soon as Satoru hears that, an idea pops into his head. He pulls out his phone and sends a text to Suguru, knowing that he won't see it until later, but needing to get his thought out.

‘What if we go to Okinawa?’ He clicks send and sets his phone back down. “Yeah, I just wish he were here though, you know?” Satoru says with a sigh.

“Codependent.” Shoko says, faking a cough as she says it.

“Excuse me?” Satoru sas with a growing smile as he turns his head to look at Shoko.

“I said co-de-pen-dent.” She emphasizes each syllable as she says it, looking him right in the eyes.

“You’re addicted to cigarettes.” Satoru shoots back, his eyebrows furrowed at her. This banter was something normal for the two of them, their relationship mostly like that of a brother and sister. Almost nothing was too far in between them.

“Trust fund baby.” She quickly spits out, a smirk on her face as she says it.

“Wait, you invited me over here to buy you food and you’re making fun of me?” Putting an end to their playful bickering back and forth.

“Yeah, because you’re a trust fund baby.”

Satoru scoffs and shakes his head. “We’ll see how you feel when I start refusing to buy your drinks for you.” Shoko takes a breath, ready to fire back, but Satoru stops her before she can even get it out. “And don't even think about asking Suguru, because I’ll tell him not to either.” Satoru says, raising his eyebrows at her, knowing he’s got the upper hand. “You can ask your really good friend Utahime to buy them for you, right?” Satoru asks, teasing her once again.

“Okay, okay, shut up, you win.” She says, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, looking defeated.

Satoru smiles smugly, proud of himself as he sits back into the couch, crossing his arms and looking up at the tv. He can’t help but start thinking silently to himself, Suguru and I have really gotta start watching this together.

chapter 19

#satosugu #stsg #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #office au #4littlefishies #the 36th floor

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