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morallyinept · 2 months

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Azalea - A Lucien Flores One Shot

Summary: A man from your past shows up at a party and leaves you on the cusp of making a life changing choice. Do you stay, or do you leave with him?

Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader has hair long enough to be brushed over their shoulder and wears a dress.)

Word Count: 4.8k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶 “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F recieving/mild ass play/kissing/infidelity/mentions of past issues with alcolholism and addiction/toxic relationship traits/unrequited love and longing/Lucien's chains come with their own warning

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I get the sense (from the little clips we've seen of Lucien so far) that he's in love, and probably loves hard, and is messy and complicated with a turbulent past, and isn't a bad guy at all. So here he is, my version. I hope you like him. 😘 (I've used some of his lines from the clips we've seen too.)

MAIN MASTERLIST | LUCIEN FLORES MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As guests mingle and laughter fills the air in the grand house, you can’t shake off the heavy feeling of discontent grinding sharply around your teeth.

As you stand invisible amongst the cluster of your braying friends, you can't help but cast a wistful gaze back towards the brown eyes staring at you from across the room, loitering casually with a hand in his pocket and lips wrapped around a cigarette.

It makes your skin itch and pickle that he's here.

How is it that he’s fucking here?

He’s like a ghost haunting the hollows of your bones. A constant white noise that only you can hear.

He looks good, well. Better.

He has colour in the capillaries of his cheeks again, and the way he stands is different, he seems taller somehow, a little more grey and wispy, but still handsome. He’s put on a little weight, a small paunch evidence of that. He appears more foreboding with those squared-off shoulders in their thick broadness.

He smirks at you, he never smiles. Just smirks, crookedly and you look away immediately. Those itches and prickles melting into warm heat that floods down your spine.

Fuck, why is he here?

You turn your attention to Mitch, basking in the spotlight of adulation. His animated gestures and booming laughter echo out through the open windows, mingling with the soft strains of music drifting from within the dining room.

Guests cluster around him, hanging onto his every word; their faces alight with admiration and respect. And it makes you fucking sick.

You slip away unnoticed, carrying a bottle of open and warm champagne, seeking solace amidst the blood red azaleas in the expansive garden.

You’re drinking from the bottle of flattening fizz bitterly, leaving your partner toasting his fortune and parry, and there’s tension swirling around your gut that hasn’t died down since the vicious verbal spat you endured the previous night with him.

Your jaw still aches from clenching it all night.

As the celebration in the house continues, the siren call of the garden seems to provide a contrasting haven for you amidst the vibrant azalea bushes that grow plush and full.

An immediate sense of relief washes over your clammy skin, being away from the pomp and grandeur of the party inside, where Mitch holds court with his characteristic charisma. Mitch is a man of stature, exuding an air of confidence that borders on total arrogance.

Tonight's gathering is, after all, in honour of the recent success of his book - a testament to his hard ambition and callous drive. You have no idea what it’s about. You’ve not read it, tiring of your opinions and input being constantly quashed.

Mitch moves through the crowd with ease, regaling guests with anecdotes of his success and achievements, which doesn’t care to highlight the months of patience and suffering you’ve endured whilst he wrote it; his crackling laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the hum of vibrant conversation.

Despite the outward display of celebration, you can't shake off the underlying tautness swirling in your gut, lingering from the fight that still hovers between you both. Mitch's ego often overshadows the relationship, and controls it, leaving your own feelings and desires overlooked and unappreciated.

And as you find welcome loneliness in the garden, a fucking moment to just breathe, you can't help but wonder if Mitch has even noticed your absence amidst the ass-kissing bestowed upon him.

Well, it's all about having the right mindset, you see. I've always been driven by success, and I refuse to settle for anything less than the best...

You roll your eyes at Mitch's self-congratulatory tone that follows out the windows and berates you further. It’s moments like these that remind you of the growing chasm between you, feeling a pang of disconnection, a sense of longing for something more profound than the superficial trappings of hollow success.

You find yourself retreating deeper into the shadows of the garden, seeking pause amidst the fragrant blooms with the champagne bottle as your only companion.

And then, startled by a familiar voice, one that grates on you for completely different reasons, you find yourself vis-a-vis with your ex-boyfriend, Lucien Flores, who’s unabashedly shown up uninvited.

Somehow inserting himself back into your life in blocks of time to taunt you further no doubt. The tension between you is palpable as you exchange awkward looks amidst the blossoming flowers under the moonlit sky.

His molten brown eyes are soft and deep as he smirks in your direction as you cast an aloof glace over your shoulder at him that is anything but. You swig on the bottle like his presence hasn’t jangled your nerves tenfold, but you both know that it has.

You can feel his eyes wandering and burning holes across your body framed in a cascade of vibrant crimson fabric; its rich hue contrasting beautifully against the wild backdrop of the garden. With every step, the hem of the dress brushes against the dew-kissed grass as you turn from him and head further into the darker recesses of the plush oasis.

Lucien follows, checking behind him to make sure you’re both still alone.

Lush greenery envelopes the space, with vibrant bursts of blood colour provided by the clusters of azalea bushes in full bloom, their delicate petals casting a gentle fragrance into the air. He watches as your fingers brush through their leaves and velvety heads as you pass.

Stone pathways wind their way through the verdant landscape, leading to secluded alcoves, where you find yourself now with Lucien’s presence engulfing the small space.

“This isn't really a good time for your bullshit, Lucien." You say, as you drink from the bottle again, feeling a trickle of its nectar within roll down your chin.

“I wanted to see you, amante," (lover) he says, nonchalantly.

You wince at the endearing nickname he used to shower you with, whispers of it keening from a set of explorative lips as they inked the affectionate moniker under your skin.

“Really.” You snort rather ungraciously. “Why are you even here?”

He drags on the last of his cigarette, smoke billowing from pink lips, before flicking it away, its embers dying in the night. “Can we talk?”

You shake your head adamantly. “We never just talk. You know I'm with someone else now."

“Yeah. Mitch.” He nods over to the house, the party still in full swing. “Quite the catch.” He slurs with a strained hiss, then smirks.

“He wants kids,” you scoff.

And Lucien’s face softens. “You’d be a great mom.”

“I don’t want to be a mom.” You confirm and he nods.

“I know. That's why I got the snip.” His eyebrow flexes in sympathy. “Remember that summer in Tuscany?”

You shake your head again. “We never went to Tuscany.”

He thinks for a second through the haze and frowns. “No, that’s right. That was Annabelle.” He corrects with a dip in his cheeks. He simply clicks his tongue at his mistake.

“Right. Annabelle.” You bristle. “How is she these days?” Although you don’t really care.

“We should go.”

“To Tuscany?” You baulk.

“Yeah, let's go. Right now. Slip away.” He suggests with a warm seriousness.

“Lucien-”

“Kiss me.” He steps in gently and you place a palm on his chest; the silk of his shirt like fluid under your touch.

Your eyes trail over the shiny watercolour of it, the way it hangs flimsy and baggy at the hem before you brave yourself to trail upwards over the familiar shape of his chest and exposed collarbone, shiny with sweat in the hollow. A duo of gold chains knotted around one another twinkle at you before your eyes find his own.

“You are so unfair.” You shake your head despondently.

“You’ve wanted to kiss me since you saw me tonight.” Lucien states, casually. You feel him take the bottle from your fingers and he drinks a mouthful of it for himself.

“I thought you were sober.” You frown.

“I am, but I still drink.”

You roll your eyes as he clears his throat and puts the bottle down.

“I don’t even know why you’re here tonight. Who invited you?” You question with a knitted brow. You’re pretty certain he doesn't know anyone here. Except you.

You he knows really well. Too well.

He looks at you for a moment, head dipped and cocked to one side as if taking you all in.

“You’re not happy.” Lucien says, brushing your hair over your shoulder and it lingers there, his fingers in your roots gently massaging.

You turn, your nose brushing the inside of his wrist and inhale the scents there. The sun, the natural salt musk of his skin, cigarettes. You close your eyes just basking in the innocent feel of him. He was always so generous with his touch.

“No, I'm not.” You turn your face up to meet his. You can't lie to him, not when he sees you - really sees you. “But I wasn’t happy with you either.”

“I am sober.” He reassures, dropping his hand. “Eight months. I have control of my life now.”

“Right.” You fold in on yourself. You can’t go there. You refuse to go there.

“I came here to apologise to you.” Lucien says, stepping back and casting his glance down the pathway back at the house and its design.

“Is that what your sponsor suggested you do?” You remark.

“Is it Venetian?” He asks.

From the outside, the house exudes an air of opulence, with its intricate facade adorned with ornate columns and graceful archways reminiscent of palazzos.

You shrug, watching him carefully as he frowns.

“I never knew Mitch had such exquisite taste." Lucien smirks with a sneer.

“He doesn’t. It’s his parent’s second home. We’re renting it for the summer. His stupid book tour.” You mutter.

"Pshoo. Fancy." He shakes his head. “No, my sponsor didn’t tell me to come here to apologise to you.”

He turns back to you, his features soft and moulding into concern at your watery eyes looking back at him.

“You seem... melancholy." You feel his thumbs stroke either side of your face and this time you don’t stop him. Just helplessly letting those rough, calloused pads swipe over the skin under your eyes.

“You’re all glittery and sad,” Lucien says, looking at the metallic shadow brushed delicately over your eyelids.

“Why are you doing this?” You query, deflating. Surrendering.

“Doing what?”

“Torturing me.”

“You think this is torture?” Lucien asks, stroking your cheeks delicately. “It got dark. I wanted to see the sun again.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he presses a long, lingering kiss to your forehead.

A phantom sensation dances across your skin - a gentle caress, feather-light and tender in its hesitation. In that brief, ethereal moment, you feel transported back to a time when what you and Lucien had was untarnished by the shadows of addiction and betrayal - a time when his touch had been a balm to your weary heart.

And you missed the sun too.

He walks with you, guiding you backwards to the craggy, stone wall encased in the curve of the dark. You can still see his eyes as they drop to your lips and you remember the taste of him, choking on the smoke of him as he draws nearer to your face.

A hushed conversation stirs your attention from the other side of the wall. A faint, muffled voice drifts through the thick stone wall, and your heart clenches as you recognize Mitch's unmistakable tone.

Lucien covers your mouth gently with an engulfing, warm hand as he ghosts his nose gently over the skin of your neck.

It's hard to focus as you inhale a faint remant of his heady cologne, but on the other side of the wall you can hear your partner Mitch on the phone; his voice dripping with honeyed affection that he hasn’t used with you for a long time.

Lucien pulls back as you push against his chest, standing straight, his palm flat against the wall above your head as he listens out curiously with you.

I can’t stop thinking about you either, darling…

Lucien’s eyes drop to yours, his smirk dipping. “He’s fucking someone else?” He mouths.

You nod. You’ve suspected it for a while now and are only more confounded as to why you haven’t left him yet.

"Pendejo." (Asshole/idiot) Lucien bites in a growl.

As he’s speaking beyond the wall to his clandestine lover, Lucien pulls back, standing upright and shaking his head.

Your hands clench into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as Mitch waves his infidelity around the garden so casually.

His voice eventually fades out and Lucien takes one of your fists, unkinks your fingers, and brings your palm up to his mouth where he kisses it gently, eyes lancing at you, deep and entracing.

“Fuck him. Come with me to Tuscany.” Lucien drawls.

You wrinkle your nose. “What about Annabelle?”

He shrugs. “It didn’t work out.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You snort.

“Wasn’t the drinking.” He says, shaking his head and cupping your hand in between both of his ginormous ones. “Sober, remember?”

“You just drank from the champagne, I'm not an idiot.”

“Proof.” He says. “Proof that I can control it now.”

“You’ll never be able to control it.”

He nods. “Yeah, not without help. And I have help.”

You sigh and he looks at you earnestly pressing your hands to his chest. You can feel the ribbing of his heartbeat underneath them.

“I ended things with Annabelle ages ago.”

“Why? She was good for you.”

He breaks off with a garbled sigh amd swallows. You watch as he stares intonthe distance, and then he smirks.

“Do you remember when you threw my keys over the fence?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why did you leave her?” You say, fearing the answer.

“She’s not… you.” Lucien kisses your palm again and you can only watch him. Watch, rooted to the spot, heart thudding as he kisses slowly up your wrist and arm.

"I can't be with someone I don't love." He says simply.

You know it’s empty promises and hollow words as he paints this fantasy of a forever with him on your skin with his hot tongue. And it’s an illusion you’ll happily let yourself fall into for a while because it seems almost better than your current reality.

So you kiss him back. Pulling him by the lapels of his thin shirt until his lips are felt against yours, desperately.

He kisses you like the first time, when he was unsure and flighty. Before he became the man who broke your heart and left you walking barefoot on the shards of it.

His hands roam your face, cupping your cheek, thumbs stroking again as you feel his body crush against yours. Hips winding into your belly as he gasps around the taste of your lips.

You both part, panting and wanting, his deep eyes searching you out. He knows you’re in there somewhere, knows you’re better than this life, and also the one he tried - and failed - to give you.

Amidst the confusing turmoil, you can't ignore the unspoken longing lingering between you both, a palpable undercurrent of tension and desire on both parts.

He’s crushed tightly against you, bleeding into the shadows of the stone wall propped up behind you and your skin alike. You can almost feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, aquiline nose brushing up the side of your jaw inhaling the sweet scents of you that make his mouth water and his cock stiffen into your gut.

His hand pulls at the silk of your belt and your dress falls open, cascades of rich velvet and silk opening for his hands to roam gently over your naked skin.

You feel a rush of warmth flood your body despite the cool breeze puckering your nipples - warmth at the way Lucien looks at you, marvelling at you.

At the way he touches you, reigniting the sparks that you ensured you snuffed out a long time ago. You shudder at Lucien’s tender touch, the way his fingertips barely glide across your exposed skin, your weak heart fluttering in response to the raw vulnerability you see reflected back in his eyes.

You find yourself leaning into Lucien’s touch, finding solace and comfort in the unspoken connection that has always lingered between you both, despite everything. In that moment, amidst the fragrant blooms and the moonlit shadows, that small nagging thought mutates, that perhaps the love you’d always been searching for had been right here, in his stacked arms all along.

You shake your head, quickly gathering your wits and wrapping the dress around your body.

“We can’t do this.” You croak, trying to convince yourself of it despite all the blood in your veins rushing towards your centre and throbbing like a jungle drum.

“Yes we can.” Lucien assures. “I’ve fucking missed you, amante.”

It stops you in your tracks.

The words hang in the air, sharp and raw, teetering on the edge of a dreamy possibility that you’ve only allowed yourself to relive in the dark corners of your mind in quiet moments of a self-loathing masochism you allow yourself to harbour.

You feel his thick fingers on the tips of yours, a delicate yet invading touch that spreads its poison quickly and renders your resolve to crumble at your feet.

Any thoughts of regret are pushed aside as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him again.

Lucien worships your body as he trails his mouth over your naked breasts, sucking nipples into his mouth as he pushes you back against the wall. You gasp, already squirming and clenching as his lips leave more devastation.

He makes out with your stomach, dipping his tongue lavishly into your belly button as he sinks to his knees. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging gently as you wind fluffed, messy curls around them.

Lucien turns you with ease in his large hands, gathering your dress to the side, and kisses across your butt, biting the pert cheeks of them softly into his mouth as his hands pry them apart and his tongue makes lewd discoveries that make you gasp into the wall.

He crushes you to him, wrapping his arms around your thighs and forcing his face further in between your cheeks as you reach behind and rake desperately through his hair.

Running his tongue around the tight knot of your skin, and your mind can't help to revisit all the times when he claimed it with his fingers and cock too.

He kisses over the dimples of your thighs, all around them, under them, the backs of your knees - just everywhere and anywhere he can run his scuffed lips against.

Turning you again, he stares at your cunt inches from his nose, that’s soaking through the flimsy, black lace panties you’re wearing.

“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.” Lucien growls, looking up at you. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” You breathe resolutely. But you pull your panties aside and he gasps as you yank him forward by the back of his head.

He groans out in sweet relief as soon as his tongue makes contact, swiping into your soaked folds.

His hands run up the back of your thighs as he squeezes your ass, pushing your sopping cunt further onto his mouth.

“Yes, Lucien, get in there… get right in there,” you pant as your eyes roll back.

You struggle to stay upright, your body like jelly as you feel yourself slipping against the ragged stone wall against your skin.

He pries you open with his thumbs, licking over the shiny, wet bead of your clit and your thighs shakes uncontrollably. He brutally sucks it, flicking his tongue over and over in his determination to make you unravel.

He won’t stop until you come, you know this. He always was a generous lover in carefree abundance. Far from what you’re used to now - Mitch hasn't touched you in months, and the thought of it makes your skin crawl.

Lucien’s tongue works you up quickly, lapping and gliding expertly as he mouths on you exquisitely. You hear him grunt in hunger and want as he pulls you onto him further; his blunt fingertips pressing bruises into your ass cheeks as he grips tighter onto you, your hips winding into his face.

“Lucien…” you whine as you bubble and brew.

His eyes look up at you, mouth and nose buried into your core as you come; the silvery moon bathing your face in sweet, adoring kisses through its crescent smile as your body heats and your bones shake.

He lets you taste it as he rises up and kisses you, slipping his honey coated tongue back between your lips as you groan.

"Taste so fucking good." He groans.

His fingers attack your pussy, sliding in and pumping fast as you gasp. Clutching onto his shoulders, the silk bunches up around them in knotted waterfalls spilling over your knuckles as you claw and squeeze.

“Come for me again, baby.” Lucien encourages in a low, deep tone. Eyes watching you as the shadows of the alcove play over his ragged face like Rorschach inkblots.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, amante,” he grunts as you squeeze and contract around his fingers brushing over your spot. “And then I’m gonna take you away from here, away from that piece of shit, and fuck you again. And again.”

“Lucien, please…” you whimper.

“We belong together, baby. I fucking love you.” He mumbles into your lips. “I never stopped. Not once. And I know you didn’t either. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby... come for me, that's it, let go... come... Fuck, you're so beautiful.”

You cry out as your orgasm floods your body and his fingers. Your body shakes beyond your control, eyes glazed over and lost in a tumble of his sweet ramblings and bewitching ministrations.

“Come here.” Lucien reaches to his fly as he kisses your neck. His heady grunts sound like gravel in your ears, breath warming you with the acrid scent of smoke seeping into your pores.

He hoists your leg up over his thick arm, his hand coming to rest on your face again as you feel him run his cock through your folds. He dips his hips low as he breaks on through inside you.

“You feel that, you feel that all the way?” He asks, as he slides all the way in and out again.

“Lucien!” You gasp, your lips nipping onto his as you feel him pack you out. You never forgot the feel of him, so hard and thick.

"That's it, baby. Back where I belong."

His pants are desperate; puffy little breaths that soon grow into laboured whines of lusty need. Drunk off of you completely, sobriety smashed in an instant.

He vowed to stay away, to let you heal and move on, but he’s selfish. He knows he is. He can’t abstain, can’t ever quit you. It’s why he’s here, fucking another man’s woman because he’s selfish. Sabotaging every relationship he’s had since you, trapped in that cycle.

Basking in the addictive feel of your cunt squeezing around him as you come, watching as your eyes soar into the sky, howling his name into his mouth as he tastes your tongue and sucks on it greedily.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He grunts.

He comes inside you, filing you full, but he still keeps pumping, still keeps himself buried inside of you, fucking deep and slow. Unable to pull himself out of you, unable to be parted from you now that he has you back inside his hands.

You clutch on tighter to him, not wanting this to end; wanting to indulge in this secret shame in the back of the garden you've allowed yourself to wallow freely in.

He feels so good, so warm and thick. He peppers your face with kisses, the silk scruff of his jawline smooth against your cheeks. Your fingers coil in the curls behind his ears and the back of his bronzed neck, damp with sweat.

They tangle in the chains, one that you're pretty certain in your cock-addled haze that was a gift from you that he still wears - you pull him closer to you still.

“Come inside me again, Lucien,” you whisper as he pecks over your face gently.

“I wanna spend forever coming inside of you,” he whispers back, voice breaking.

And you know he means it. He always means what he says, it's just the follow through is often lost in translation. He’s not a bad man, you know this in your heart.

You spent days convincing your reflection in the mirror that he's not a bad man; he was just weak when you needed him to be strong - an unravelling mess. But he was your mess for time.

And now that he’s inside you again like this, so uncouthly unperturbed that anyone could venture down here and see him claiming you, you know a part of you still loves him too.

You believed it when he said he loved you and you suspect he probably hasn’t loved anyone else like he loved you.

It was raw, unfiltered. Intense. You know it because you felt it too. It hurt, viscerally. Consumed you both and spit you out.

A gaping wound that you’ve not been able to stitch up and every day you’re bleeding out. You wanna tell him how much it fucking hurt to watch him willingly drown, inadvertently pulling you under with him.

You want to lash out and scratch at his beautiful face, slap him and bite and bruise him like he bruised you.

But instead you kiss him, you hear him falter and become weak inside your ear and he groans and whimpers your name as he comes once more.

You let him flood you again, feel it dripping down your thighs, thick and warm as he stains your skin with him all over again.

In the afterglow of your post-coital bliss, your hand traces the contours of his weathered face, running lightly through the wiry greys along his jaw.

Lucien nestles into your palm, lips finding the skin to press in a kiss.

You want to believe it, you want to believe he’s changed and grown and learnt. That he's spent time reflecting, healing.

But you're still marred with the splinters of hurt that’ve lacerated your heart.

Looking into the rich, warm browns of melted chocolate, flecked with golden hues that dance like sunlight on water, you allow yourself to remember the days when Lucien was your everything.

When his gruff, nicotine soaked laughter was the sound that filled your days, and his touch chased away any fears you could harbour.

The ways he would fuck you for hours into the night; his sweat soaking into your skin, as you gnawed on his shoulder, like perfume you’d wear for days without showering him away.

You remember the first time you noticed the signs - the subtle scent of hard liquor on his breath, the empty bottles hidden away in the depths of your home in the most unusual of places. At first, you’d dismissed it as stress or a passing phase, but as the weeks turned into months, the truth became impossible to ignore.

You’d watched helplessly as Lucien spiralled further into the grip of his addiction, his once-charming demeanour giving way to bouts of anger and despair that would paint your bathroom in plumes of his vomit. You remember the sleepless nights spent drowning in tears, the ache in your chest that refused to relent, the biting emptiness that hollowed out your soul into a pair of unblinking eyes and a heart cemented over.

You wonder if that’s why you’re with Mitch now. Wonder if perhaps that this is all you deserve; that you’ll never be happy, so what's the point in trying to fight for it?

The nights had become endless cycles of fear and uncertainty, each day a desperate struggle to hold your crumbling world together. You’d become withdrawn, adept at hiding the truth from your friends and family, plastering on a smile to conceal the pain.

But amidst the chaos and despair, there had been moments of hope - fleeting glimpses of the man you had once loved, the man buried beneath the weight of his addiction and trying to swim out of it.

And though you had often questioned your decision to stay as long as you did, you can't deny the flicker of love that still burns within you for him, the belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there’s still a chance for redemption.

And you hate yourself for allowing your mind to go there.

Lucien reaches to the bush and plucks an azalea off the stem and combs it behind your ear.

“Beautiful.” He says with a smile. Not a smirk, a smile.

“I can’t go back to that place, Lucien.” You say, shaking your head.

You stare out at the house and the sounds of music and chatter still tinkle down the pathway towards you both.

“I know,” he says, running a hand through his hair listlessly.

You untangle the flower from your hair and look at it resting in your palm, the velvety petals smoothed out under your thumb as you stroke.

“But you can’t stay here, either.” His voice pulls you from your swampy thoughts.

"No," you agree. You turn to glance back at the house.

“Come with me,” Lucien pleads softly, deep eyes searching yours out. "What's stopping you, baby?"

Fingertips on your chin tilt you towards him. You tuck the flower inside his breast pocket and he looks forlorn as you do, eyes sinking and any trace of a smile vanishing.

You wrap your dress around your waist and he watches you belt it up into a messy bow on your hip. You can still feel him pooling between your legs.

You take in a deep breath, a steadying one that seeks clarity through the confusion, and inhale the familiar, swarming fragrance of the azaleas one last time.

My first time writing for Lucien and I'd love to know your thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog too so others can read and enjoy. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | LUCIEN FLORES MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Tagging @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @undercoverpena @linzels-blog @avastrasposts @trulybetty

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #lucien flores #the uninvited #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores x f!reader #jett's writing

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satorudoll · 10 months

Text

☆ HE'S MINE ALL MINE —

#part 2!

: ̗̀➛┊! please read pt.1 before starting this, or it will seem like a block of nonsense !┊

☆ nerd + secret boyfriend!gojo x popular!fem reader

content: MDNI! explicit content, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, cunnilingus

word count : 7.5k

You stare at your reflection in the dressing table mirror, messed mascara that had run down and dried on your once pink cheeks, your eyes blank and shoulders slumped as you sat still on your vanity table as deftones continued to beat through your speaker,

but your ears were too numb to comprehend any passing sound right now.

"Are you seriously planning to not move from there!" Your elder sister barges into your room with annoyance, finding you sitting in your lacy tank top and grey shorts, face a mess, and your hair looking like you needed a seriously long shower.

"oh god you haven't done shit from the past two days- And- What on earth have you done to your room?!" She look arounds the small room made of pastel pink walls that had light scent of peony lingering over them, random black and white posters of artists and bands glued on those walls and your mess of a bed in middle of it all that had all your plushies and comic books lying around, leaving barely any space for a human body to rest, the lace curtains pulled over to block any ray of sunlight that could ruin your mood any further.

Your sister yelps while trying to make her way towards you as she almost trips over an empty can of coke that your forgot to dispose.

She manages to make it to you and stands besides your sitting figure before resting her hands on her hips and staring at you through your reflection as well.

"are you taking drugs?" she murmured.

"No!" that causes you to immediately snap your head towards her with big eyes.

She cocks a brow at you,

"Geez chill, clean you damn room up and come down to eat!"

She turns away and starts making her way back, pausing and picking up the pile of your bras from the floor, shaking her head and throwing them up your already messy bed before leaving your room.

"fuck.." you whine as you scratch your head and finally standing up from there, but you just end up pulling your phone from the nightstand and jumping to lay on your bed not caring about the kuromi plushies that were being squished under your weight.

Your mind takes you back to the evening from two days ago.

You walked up to Gojo and Utahime, interrupting whatever convo they were having.

You quietly walk up to them and Gojo notices you first while Utahime was telling him something,

Utahime turns her head noticing your presence,

then she turns to look back up at Gojo,

She raises a brow looking between you both

"Y/n? something wrong?" She asks,

She didn't think you were here for Gojo, She knew who you were though, the whole school knew the party animal ofc. But she had no idea you would have anything to do with the class nerd.

You quietly stare back at her,

what are you supposed to say? Should you just say you were here for your boyfriend? But what if Gojo gets annoyed because he was meaning to end it with you?

As hundreds of answers ran through your head and your mind was trying to choose the best answer, Satoru spoke up instead.

"She needs to borrow some of my extra notes. Exams are coming so its going to be necessary." Satoru speaks up, Utahime makes a face and looks at you,

"Ask me next time instead, I make better notes than him," She assured you causing Satoru to knit his brows at her

"Leave already" He says making her shrug and walk away.

She walks past you, leaving the both of you alone in the silent halls as the sounds of her footsteps fades farther away and the palms of your hand grow clammy again.

"You alright?"

Your head snaps up when Satoru's calm voice reaches your eardrums. The voice that has grown so much on you.

You turn towards him and fold your arms, looking down at your pumps as you mutter,

"where were you? you missed the class.."

He notices you looking agitated and responds in an assuring tone,

"I was assigned some work so it too way longer than i thought. Its fine there wasnt any issue"

Something about that annoys you,

maybe because you spent the entire 45 minutes fighting your the anxiety in your head, thinking that he was gonna break it off with you.

"Well you need the notes, i-" You shove your hand in your bag to pull out the notes you wrote, but he speaks up,

"Oh, don't worry about that. Utahime showed me the ones she wrote, i took the pics."

That makes you come to a full stop, as your brows knit together,

Your face snaps up at him,

He was staring back at you looking confused after noting the annoyed expression you had on.

"Don't worry i'll send them to you too along with the previous-"

You cut him off with a loud,

"Oh fuck this! i don't need any notes, fuck this shit!" You turn on your heels and stormed off.

This time Satoru definitely got the hint that something was wrong.

"Y/n!" He calls out for you with a growing frown and an even deeper growing confused expression on his face as he starts walking fast to catch up with you,

He didn't have any problem catching up with you thanks to his long legs.

He grabs you by the arms from behind and forces you to stop.

You tried pushing him, so he ended up pushing you instead against the wall, caging you between his arms

"Ugh, let me go!" You yelp, you wanted to bite your tongue down, you were feeling like your emotions were all over the place and you wanted to run away as far as possible before you mutter something wrong in this state that you might regret later.

"Calm down." Satoru gently voices while you try to wiggle out of his arms looking like a restless mad child.

"Y/n, calm down." He says again but in a much harsher tone causing you to finally stop at this point.

But you still didn't wanna look up at him.

He doesn't forces you to look up either, instead,

"Tell me, what's wrong?" he softly asks making you wanna further beat yourself for being the dramatic person that you are.

"I wanna go home." was your answer.

He blinks a couple of times,

"are you not well?" He asks, earning a shake of your head.

He finally sighs,

"Do you not feel comfortable telling me? We can go to the pharmacy and get you something if you aren't well right now. You should get something before it gets worst."

Your eyes get glossy by every passing second of you staring at the floor,

maybe it was a small thing, maybe whatever Satoru does for you is no big deal to some, maybe it is the bare minimum.

But you were someone who have never been lucky enough to get even that. So maybe that's why whatever Satoru did for you felt like a big deal.

And once again your head was filled with the big question mark of,

'What am i gonna do if he leaves me?'

Before Satoru could pull you out of your thoughts you finally shove his chest,

"I'm annoyed!" You were finally staring right at him,

His puzzled look was trying so hard to study you,

"Then tell me what's annoying you Y/N!" He finally was growing annoyed but still trying to keep his composure for you.

"You barely look at me when we are at school! You don't even try to lift your head from those damn books of yours to turn around and look at me! I feel like a fucking wall! I can chatter like a parrot all day as we sit and I barely manage to get a word or two out from you! It doesn't feel good Satoru!" You rant, a tear finally slipping out of your eyes.

Satoru watches with wide eyes and knitted brow but tries to move his hand up to wipe your cheek when he sees your tear run down,

"Don't touch me right now!" You yell and push his hand away,

He sighs and looks down for a second before lifting his head back up,

"Why are you suddenly so mad.. I told you, we have plenty of time to talk outside school-"

"Why??" you cut him off, your brows knitting as you bring your face closer to him.

"Are you embarrassed of being seen with me here !?" You finally speak out.

"What?? Of cour-"

You cut him off yet again,

"Hell, we don't even talk that much outside school either.. We don't do shit aside from fuck every now and than and stroll somewhere nearby when you feel like it."

You felt like the stop button of your mouth broke for good because at this point you were letting out everything that's coming in your mind straight out of your mouth

"Am I here to blow your steam?? Couldn't you find a nicer cunt than mine therefore you agreed to my childish proposal of going out so you couldn't give a fuck more than that because I'm just a dog barking as usual and following you around !? Can you try to make some sacrifices! Just tell me you don't want me around if I'm that annoying stop walking and treating me like a dog! Stop being so high on your pedestal, you might think so but I really am not a slut throwing myself at every moving body!"

You are breathing heavily,

He is watching,

Your eyes burning and legs growing colder every passing second, head filled with screams of regrets and embarrassment. You surely didn't mean to deliver the message that way, Sure you had a lot of problems to discuss with him but conveying your message this was was not on the plan.

Your vision gets blurry as you notice how his crystal eyes were surprisingly turning a darker hue of blue. Almost as if he looked thrown away, and so..

hurt.

oh god, you hurt him.

You both didn't move for a good minute or two.

Just staring at eachothers eyes,

one pair that was glossy while the other getting gloomier.

You still couldnt make up what was actually going in his genius brain but then he breaks the eye contact, pulling his backpack up on his shoulders he turns away from you and starts walking away without a word.

The way he walked away from anyone else.

You stand there frozen, not really thinking he would just blatantly walk away. He never walked away from you. Even when you first started sitting with him and being annoying.

Your stomach churned and heart throbbed in pain, you rather him cuss you out for being such a petty brat than not even bother saying a word to you.

Praying in your head he stop and turns back to take you with him,

Your eyes stayed glue at the hallway wall as you heard his footsteps eventually just fade away.

back to the present day,

you stared at your phone screen.

Staring at Satoru's name on the contact list, which was all the way down the bottom now being supported by no new notifications, your and his chatroom was shoved down by all the other random people who texted you.

He hasn't texted you anything for two days,

You were too afraid to even press his name on the contact list.

The silence he replied to you with from two days ago before the weekends started still booming and clawing at the walls of your head.

As you kept your eyes glued on Satoru and your messages a notification pops up.

Shoko:

"haven't seen you all weekend, just checking up on you"

You tiredly reply a "im good"

your message is instantly read and answered,

Shoko:

"its been so long y/n, the whole party misses you! I wont force you to go but there is a party at Geto's tonight"

You scrunch your nose remembering the pool party Choso was mentioning to you about in the hallways.

As soon as you were about to send a 'no',

you pause.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't desperately needed to get your mind out off all the mess.

maybe you forgot the party animal you used to be when you got with Satoru. Maybe if you feel the thrill of it all over again you would realise how wrong you were, that Satoru really wasn't as addictive as you were thinking him to be.

and so,

you ended up agreeing to Shoko, making a mental note that you were heading there to prepare yourself for any sort of confrontation that Satoru and you might have in school tomorrow.

you were shaking your feet as you stared at the clock slowly striking 8:15,

sitting on your living room sofa ready in your lacy black mini dress and pink high platform heels. Hair done and spraying the most expensive perfume you could find in your closet. Just because you didn't attend a party in weeks doesn't mean you were gonna let go all your efforts of looking good.

But you were supposed to leave like fifteen minutes ago.

so why weren't you able to move?

Is it because its been so long?

"you haven't left yet?" your head turns to look at the raven haired woman in her pj shorts and random oversized shirt who was striding around the kitchen looking for something.

You shake your head noticing the notification from Shoko who was asking if you were going to be late.

"Is something going on?" You hear your sister's voice who stopped doing whatever she was doing and was standing next to you now.

"no.. im just.. second guessing"

you shrug

she furrows her brows, "you are really changing, that's a new. I haven't seen you be this way since ever."

you let her words sink in, and mutter,

"is that bad..?"

She nonchalantly shakes her head,

"i dont think so, you are about to go out and actually live a life in just few months anyways. you wont be in school anymore, me and mom wont be here 24/7 for you. i think its really good, like cmon, ive never seen you working on a fucking school assignment till 4am until a week ago. That's the time when you are out partying ignoring my calls of worries."

You remember the day she was talking about, your assignment was due that very day and Satoru didn't mind when you called him at 10 pm and he had to stay up all night that day to help you complete the assignment. You remember how tired his eyes looked the very next day, but he never complained. He said nothing even if it was your fault for keeping the work until last second.

You even got an A for that assignment, you've never gotten an A.

You were so excitedly tapping your foot on the floor that day when you received the grades, and it took everything in you to not hug Satoru in front of everyone right than and there. Satoru noticed that and let a small smile unconsciously slip past his lips as he continued taking his notes.

You remember screeching when the school got over and jumping on your boyfriend in the empty classroom,

and he held you without a word, he just smiled as he held you and you talked on and on about how happy you were.

and he just listened.

Your heart dully throbbing in pain when you recall the memories now,

You weren't mad at Satoru because he was a bad person,

but because being with him made you feel like a bad person.

You didn't want to accept that you might not deserve him and that somebody way better than you was out there for him.

You felt like it was better for you to just break up at this point than being together and hurting him from such a close distance.

"is it because of that boyfriend of yours?" your sister finally decides to bring it up

That causes your head to snap at her with big eyes

"what do you mean?"

"You didn't think nobody was going to notice that a random dude whose odd hair you can spot from miles away was dropping you everyday, did you?" she points,

"you are so stereotypical, cant normal friends walk eachother home??" you try to cover your secret anyway as you could,

"you both were literally making out for 10 minutes outside the entrance." She immidiately counter attacks on you.

That makes you shut up instantly.

"i never saw a guy drop you home, otherwise i wouldn't have even brought it up"

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. Your sister notices that and laughs,

"never thought you would be beating yourself over a nerdy guy like that out of all the guys I've seen you with."

you admit, "I didn't either."

"maybe that's good, you just have to try something different if the old ones don't work out. You have to step out from your comfort zone to find the things meant for you."

you wish it was that easy for you both who were in the opposite sides of the poles from each other to actually work out.

She walks away back to the kitchen but not before saying,

"and don't even think of staying back tonight, I'm kicking you out, my boyfriend will be here any minute and we agreed to let me have the house to myself."

and that's how you found yourself standing in front of another one of those big villas, you can hear the booming music and screams from where you stood.

Heaving a big sigh of frustration you twist and crack your hands and neck ready to not go back home anytime soon.

Trying to hold your big smile up you storm into the party, letting your hair flow through the cold winds of the night, not minding that you were wearing a sleeveless dress right now since you'd be covered in sweat from being in the middle of the roaring crowd in no time anyways.

You turn your head around every now and than to greet and wave back to the people who noticed and called for you,

some random people who you don't even remember running up to you and wrapping their arms around your shoulders.

The past you wouldn't have minded it and would've went along with the flow, but you wanted to shove the people aside right now.

However you refrain yourself from doing so, you didn't want to be a "bummer" like those people whom you used to refer to as 'party poppers' in the past.

You laugh along, acting fine and letting those people chattering around you guide you inside the house.

The surroundings around you slowly fades away to darkness, people's presence being illuminated by the several bright colors of spotlight that maniacally ran across the room. Your heartbeat growing louder from how hard the music was was beating through the air.

The huge villa was covered in tall white walls and windows, pine trees scattered around the big garden where you could see the big pool filled with floats of every shape glowing. You swore you saw a float shaped like a dick.

"Y/nnn, thank gawdd!" You see Shoko approach you in her bright red mini leather dress and high knee boots

"I thought you were gonna ditch me againnn" she whines, her eyes in the brink of shutting, You could smell the strong scent of alcohol everytime she tried muttering another word to you. You just arrived here and she was already out of it.

You decided that you were gonna let yourself loose and have so much fun tonight as well.

You weren't having an ounce of fun, the only thing you laughed at ever since you came here was when Shoko told you that she was so out of it that she thought Geto was her pet Doberman and tried kissing him as he started screaming and tried shaking her awake but she ended up throwing up all over him so he had left to change,

so now here she was, with you, trying to make you seem like a busy person in the party.

You were turning down anybody who came up to you and tried dragging you onto the dance floor, instead of loosing yourself tonight the music irritated your veins.

Shoko continued to slur some more of her 'fun' encounters that she had in the party during your absence while you nodded and your eyes continued lingering around the other moving bodies.

But your eyes suddenly halted its movements when you noticed the soothing color of night snow in midst of the crowd.

Your eyes got bigger,

the tall figure had his back faced, talking to some other people that you couldn't make out who due to how dark that side of the room was.

There was no way he was here.

How the fuck would he be here, he literally turned down all the parties you invited him to up until now and you always ended up ditching them along with him.

Why the hell would he suddenly be in one.

You were forcing yourself to look away when you noticed that the figure was about to turn around,

but its like someone had locked your gaze towards that direction, you weren't able to look away.

He turns around completely,

and your eyes caught his,

suddenly the loud booming of the music became dull in your ears and your vision became a bit more clearer, because you have no idea if you were biased, but he was standing out amongst the whole sea of people who filled this big space.

It was prolly the snowy white locks of his hair,

or his crystal blue eyes,

or the fact that he wasn't dressed anything like the Satoru you've been seeing this whole time.

Your boyfriend who was standing and staring back at you from the other end of the room wore a pair of loose black jeans, matched with a big leather jacket (you couldn't make out if the jacket was big or his frame was actually that buff, you would have no problem believing the later one), both the black fits contrasted by the oversized white jacket he wore underneath, and a small silver chain trailed around his neck.

He looked nothing like the nerd you saw everyday in school, or the guy in random sweats outside school, he looked more like the guy he showed you when you both were alone.

his white hair a bit parted and his glasses missing.

Any other day you would have stormed up to him to hide him because it felt illegal for him to be standing out in front of the whole world looking that fucking good.

But tonight your brows twitched, you grew annoyed at how you couldn't even walk up to him because what if he walked away from you like the other day, but this time in front of the whole crowd?? you were so fucking sure people will start chattering and you will be nothing but a an awkward figure of embarrassment.

You couldn't read his eyes, you never could.

That was just another reason that annoyed you,

what you did notice though was that he looked surprised to see you here, but definitely not as much as you were to see him.

You just forced your gaze to rip away from him and turn to face Shoko who was laughing at god knows what, she didn't even notice that you were focused on something other than her adventurous encounters. But you rather hear those than go near Satoru right now.

You grew way more awkward than when you came here since you knew now Satoru was here as well, you tried so hard to focus on Shoko's words but your heart wasn't letting you focus on any other presence in the room. It felt like you and Satoru were the only ones alone in this big room, no matter how loud it got.

You curse before turning your head to look at your side and quickly grabbing the cup of beer that was lying there since forever.

You chugged it down feeling the burning liquid prickle your throat but it was nothing compared to how much your chest was burning, tossing away the now empty cup you grab Shoko by the hand, and drag her away with you to leave the room because you doubt you will be able to otherwise focus on anything else other than the lingering gaze that was looming over you from across the room.

You took her all the way to the garden trying to not trip, you regretted wearing such high platform heels, they were way taller than what you would usually wear, but you just really didn't want them to be collecting dust. You gave up and wore them at the end with the mindset that if your ankles broke tonight then it was karma coming at you for being such an ass to your boyfriend, all the logical thinking had left your body in the last two days.

"What if i throw uph in the poolll" Shoko slurs as you shove her to lay down on the lawn chairs while you make your way to the pool,

"You aren't going to the pool, I am. And what you need, is sleep." You start unzipping your dress, stripping into your baby pink bikini.

You felt stares fall upon your figure but you didn't care since you weren't the only ones in so less clothing, literally half of the crowd here were in the verge of being fully naked.

Shoko whined but she shut up as soon as she started because her eyes gave out on her and now she had left to the wild dreamlands of her fever dreams.

you slowly stepped down the pool starring down at how it made your body glow.

You slowly swam around, at one point wondering if you should just drown here.

Shaking the thought away not wanting a whole case on Geto's hand you rose back up.

Taking a deep breathe as your pushed the wet locks of your hair back you didn't notice a figure approach you from the back.

You flinch and immediately turn to shove the person who suddenly wrapped their arms around your bare waist.

It was your last ex, of course.

The one who cheated on you, but you really didn't felt like crying that day because your short lived romance was anyways in the brink of fading into dust. But that didn't make him seem like a less of a jerk to you though.

You spent your good 10 minutes cussing him out and outing most of his dirty laundry in middle of the whole crowd of people watching your breakup unfold, just because you wanted to pull something funny and felt like he deserved it.

"I haven't seen you around in weeks" He speaks casually, leaning back against the half wall and slowly turning his gaze looking around for something interesting.

"you still stink, Naoya." You blatantly reply, shoving his hand away from your waist and folding your arms to leans your back on the half wall as well.

"glad to know your foul mouth is still healthy as ever" he laughs.

"shut up whore." you pass him a disgusted look, "what are you even doing here? no bitches willing to hold your dick?"

he sighs,

"saw none better than you here."

That makes you roll your eyes hard,

"I'm the dumbfck here trying to talk you here, bye" you try getting out of the pool but he immediately pulls you back by waist,

"you fuc-"

he cuts you off pulling you closer to him, your boobs pressed against his chest as his face is so fucking close to yours.

"you play so fucking hard doll, you've always been that way. why? is it fun to watch me yearn and long for you?" he whispers making your knit your brows farther wondering if he was drunk too.

"i bet you haven't found a dick big enough yet that can fit in every corner of your-"

you punch his nose,

nobody notices though since the party was that loud except two or three people who were closer to you, passing by the pool but they didn't seem to care, knowing that was just you being you,

"OW! the fuck!?" he immediately yelps shoving you away,

"you fucking bet i did whore, and if you want ill find some for you to ride as well!" You harshly splash the water at his face when he was just about to retract his palms back from his face earning another yelp from him.

You push yourself up from the pool, head feeling hotter than ever as you storm away to get your dress. you didn't even bother drying yourself, you just put your thin dress back on not giving a fuck about the way you just made the dry fabric completely drenched in a second as soon as it came in contact with the wet one.

You look down to take Shoko with you, but pause looking at her peacefully snoring state,

Shaking your head you walk back into the villa by yourself, unbothered about the trail of water you were leaving behind, but most of the people around you were doing the same. You feel horrible for whoever was cleaning this place up later.

As you mindlessly walked around pushing past people you felt your nose starting to burn, eyes becoming glossier.

You felt like a fucking mess.

So you pause, you don't take any steps further,

even if you were about to burst into tears right this instant here, nobody in this room would notice you.

Just as you were about to let a sob slip you feel someone trace your arm,

Your head snaps back to look at the tall brunette guy,

his doe eyes looks at you as he held a sweet smile on his face,

he didn't seem like a bad person, i mean you wouldn't know,

but he just gave off a good person vibe,

he looked drunk as well though.

But he didn't try groping you.

So you just stared at him, he was so out of it but he was waiting for you to join him and dance.

And you let every weight on your mind and shoulder fall down.

you were so tired.

You turn around fully to face him.

stepping closer to him he takes the hint and lets his hand fall down your hip, feeling the wet fabric under his palms he drunkenly blurts

"..is it raining here?" he questions innocently craning his head up to look at the ceiling.

That makes you laugh.

This one heartier than when you laughed at Shoko's story.

You keep your hands on his shoulders planning to start dancing,

but suddenly someone pulls one of your hand away from his shoulder.

Your nostrils filled with the familiar minty scent, you froze.

not wanting to look up, although the brunette guy was already staring at the person next to you both with a clueless expression.

"..am-am i interrupting something?" the brunette guy hiccups like a dumbhead when it was the other way around.

You couldn't even open your mouth, your lips suddenly felt so heavy and you still weren't turning your head to look at your side.

Your left hand still in his big warm ones.

"Y/n.." Satoru finally lets out in his low toned voice.

You didn't know if it was his presence or the insanely wet fabric on your skin that was making you slowly feel feverish

"Y/n.. please.. look at me.." He softly pleads,

something in his tone this time breaks your heart, crumbling ever so slowly you finally look up at him.

Satoru wasn't going to force you to go with him,

he wasn't going to force you to come with him if you didn't want to.

He instead kept all his faith on you, for you to choose him.

You stared at his face that looked a bit tired, his brows arched down as his eyes looked dull blue tonight, just like the other day.

Satoru looked sad,

You couldn't push him any further, it was painful,

you let go your other hand that was resting on the brunette's shoulder and he looked like he was conscious enough to let your hips go as well.

Satoru didn't seem to care how sweaty your hand was as he held them tight and turned around as soon as you let the brunette go like he was praying you chose him and didn't turn his time, taking long strides in his black converse he walks away, taking you with him,

he was holding tightly onto your hand, like you would leave as soon as he let it a bit loose, nobody noticed your small frame walking behind his big one that covered you up entirely.

You felt small once again.

You didn't notice that all the loud voices suddenly grew quite,

You hear the sound of door shut, and finally look around finding yourself in a big bedroom,

The room was spacious and interior clean, wood paneled walls decorated the four sides, only two long golden lights hanging from the ceiling leaving the room to look a bit dim, tall windows hidden behind the long beige curtains that were drawn over them, and a big canopy bed in middle of the bedroom.

Your head noted that it must be one of the spare rooms in here.

You felt a bit better as the light scent of vanilla and cashmere started to linger around you instead of all the sweat and mixed perfume of everyone in the crowd.

What you didn't like was however the silence that was eating you up now.

Satoru was still holding onto your hand.

You look up at him this time, and he turns his body towards you as well, not letting your hand go,

He notices you drenched from head to toe,

he didn't notice it before since it was way too dark in the room and he was too busy rushing to get you two out of there.

"Did someone push you in the pool??" He questions, worry laced in his tone,

you shake your head

"no, i was taking a swim.."

That makes his eyebrows knit further,

he sighs and pulls you to the bed,

making you sit down he finally lets go off your hand, walking away into the bathroom he comes back in seconds with a towel in his hand.

Satoru walks back up to you and gets on his knees in front of you, he wraps the towel over your head and starts rubbing the soft fabric against the locks of your wet hair.

you quietly look down at your lap, playing with your fingers.

He gently starts to dry you face and neck,

"Wait my makeup-"

"you can worry about that later" he heaves.

the more he dried your skin the more wet your eyes grew,

you felt your bottom lips quiver and you finally let out a weak,

"why are you going out with me?"

Satoru stops drying your skin and his gaze moves up to your face,

"you've grown on me y/n.." he says in a gentle tone as his hand moves up to caress your warm cheek.

"don't you wanna be with me anymore?" he questions,

patiently waiting for you to answer,

"i-" you start tearing up

"i wanna be with you so much, i wanna be by your side all time, I don't mind if I look like a dog running behind you, but you feel too good for me" you sob and he doesn't interrupt you, instead he continues to caress your cheek with his thumb, listening to your every word,

"I feel like if you actually decide to step out into the world you will notice people who are way better than me," you hiccup embarrassed at all the things you were confessing but he just quietly wipes your tears.

"you can do so much more than me- and a year ago I would have never guessed that ill be running my mouth like a parrot right now sobbing for you but who am I to know! I'm just an idiot who doesn't even have control over herself, I'm just insecure and scared that the world will realize how nice of guy you are, how kind your heart is and then they'll try to take you away, I even wrote down notes for you that day when you missed the class, and it is the most detailed notes I have ever made but its still no- "

"you made notes for me??" he finally cuts you off,

his curious eyes staring at you as you stop flinging your arms around from all the explanation and let out a small

"yes.."

He watches you finally go quite and he proceeds to cup your face, caressing your warm face as your nervous heart starts to slowly melt away when you see him softly smiling back at you.

"why would I have to go around caring to look for someone better if you are becoming better for me baby?"

that makes you slowly tear up again, you swore another thing Satoru has turned you into is a little crybaby.

This man just had that grip over you.

He engulfs you in his warm arms as you say

"sorry.. I really didn't mean any words that I said that day.. you looked so hurt.. I couldn't bring myself to face you.." you cry and his warm hug grows tighter as he rubs your head to calm you down,

"I'm sorry too.. shouldn't have left you there and walked away either" he says.

"i love you" you slip out,

that makes him pause,

he pulls his head back and looks at your eyes,

and questions,

"what?"

Your cheeks grow warm as you mumble,

"ugh I'm not saying it again, you heard me !"

you burry your head in his neck embarrassed.

"I didn't even hear you because of all the snot in your nose!" he defends.

"shut up, liar!" you smack his chest.

he heartily laughs before slowly smashing his lips against yours,

you immediately welcome him in your warm arms,

the rough texture of his lips softly crushing against your delicate ones.

his wet tongue slowly grazing against your warm ones,

Satoru swiftly pushes you up the soft bed and breaks the kiss, trailing his tongue down your chin, licking all the way to the side of your neck, slowly sinking his teeth into your warm skin making your moan and wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer,

running one of his hand down to your thigh, he gropes it before running them back all way up,

going further and further up under the wet fabric that was clinging onto your warm skin,

he pulls his face away slamming his lips on yours again after leaving a soft imprint of blur and purple on your neck, giving you a hard long peck before pulling away and taking his leather jacket off, pulling his white shirt over his head that causes his white locks to tousle before falling back to cover parts of his hooded eyes,

he grins down at you and whispers

"Why don't you start marking me up? so that whoever tries to take me away from you will know they can never be better than you?"

Your cheeks grow warm at that as he takes your hands and makes them rest on his firm chest

"c'mon baby, I want you to mark every inch of my skin.. wont you?" He smiles as you nod your head and trail your fingers over his soft pale skin,

But growing impatient he take a lock of your hair in his hand and shoves your face against his skin,

and you obediently lap it, before widening your mouth and sinking your teeth into his skin starting to suck on it

"suck it harder baby, take a mouthful of that skin" how else will they know I'm yours otherwise?"

You eagerly do as he tells you to, sucking a mouthful of his skin, leaving bitten bruises of blue and purple splattered across his pale chest as he watches your with a proud expression,

finally getting enough of it he flips your body, pushing the front of your body against the soft sheets he looks down at your figure with his hooded eyes,

releasing soft breathy pants through his parted lips as he pulls your thighs up so your back arches and your big plump ass was in his clear view,

he looked drunk,

but he swore he didn't have even an ounce of liquid ever since he entered the villa.

well of course you had to make up for how thirsty he was though,

He knit his brows, he felt hornier than usual he had to admit,

was two days of not having his face buried between your boobs and having you whining against his lap when you both were alone making him this desperate?

He could feel his thick cock grow painfully angry every second inside his boxers. The tight waist of his jeans bringing not even a little comfort.

"toru.." you whine, pushing your ass further back, bringing it closer to his face,

he grunts,

"yes baby.." he starts to quickly unbutton and pull the zip of his pants down. Shoving his hand in his boxers as he stares at the thin wet fabric of your bikini cover your ass,

he pulls his dick out, sighing as soon as some feeling of relief washes through his veins.

And quickly he pushes your thighs together, pulling down the bottoms of your bikini revealing your wet ass cheeks that had slick run down from your gaping and pulsing cunt.

He pushes his face in your ass, kissing and making out with your drooling hole before he plunges his tongue in, caressing the gummy walls of your insides as your cry loud and feel literal tremors run down your hips from the way he was easing the bundle of your nerves, pushing his hand up to messily rub and pinch your clit, holding the hard shell of your core in his palm as he massages it. Eyes sealed from feeling pure bliss, his nose buried against your puffy cheeks intoxicated by the strong smell of your inside,

his burning cock so fucking hard as it pulsated and released precum every passing second, he wanted you to stop him and grab his cock, for you to tell him to shut the fuck up and take his cock in your hand and shove it in your tight cunt.

But at the same time he wanted you to stay patient and let his hungry self eat,

No alcohol induced body in the room could compare to how pussydrunk your boyfriend was right now.

"Toru- Fuck! need your cock! please.." you whine trying to pull your ass away which was so tightly in the hold of his big palms,

He sucks hard, feeling the warm liquid of your insides gush down his tongue everytime he tried moving it deeper in your depths.

You felt your walls painfully tighten as you tried pushing him away but he just slaps your hand and buries his face harder,

"you love me baby?" he grunts as he slowly lets go your thighs finally and takes his hot sticky length in his palm

"love you toru.. so much" you mewl,

you get pushed up as he plunges his heavy girthy length into your warmth, immediately burying his face in your neck and hugging you tight from behind as he lets out a soft cry,

You could tell he was extra sensitive than usual today, you loved it so much,

you would like to believe it was the extra effect of you finally showing to him that your love for him was so important to you and how much you appreciated the way he took care of you,

His lips brushes up against the shell of your ear, biting it as you feel him grow thicker inside you, he held you so close, feeling his face grow warmer feeling the sensation of the way you both were connected down there. The skin of your bare asscheeks feeling the prickly trail of his snowy white hair down there

"I love you y/n" he cries as you feel his girth throb hard, your walls instantly clenching around him earning another moan from his throat.

you feel your cheeks grow warmer and the corner of your eyes start getting wet,

he brings his lips even closer to your ears and licks the lobe of your ear, trailing his right hand up and pulling your hands which was gripping the sheets so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours,

you cry as his other free hand goes down between your legs and roughly runs his fingers over your clit and through your folds.

Tears escape your eyes and Satoru kisses them clean,

"I love you baby, love you so much.. i-i only want you with me baby.. lets just love eachother.. hm?" he whispers, cradling you in his arms as he presses another kiss on your cheek, moving his head down and sucking the skin of your neck which was layered in thin sheet of sweat as he thrusts his hips hard, you both cry into eachothers warmth as you feel him start to penetrate your throbbing cunt balls deep, giving you strong yet long slow thrusts.

"love you toruu.." you moan and he kisses your lips, holding you so close to him,

"love you my baby... love you so much"

"ok soo.. i know i said they are the most detailed notes that I've ever made but I'm pretty sure I missed a couple of lines because I was too worried and zoning out every now and than thinking where you were yk."

He stares at you, raising a brow the more you spoke,

"so like we might still need the ones Utahime gave you." You smile at him innocently, tucking your chin on your hands, which were resting over his bare broad chest.

before he could respond the door flies open making you yelp and Satoru quickly wraps his arms around your frame to cover you up although thankfully you had already pulled the duvets up to your chest.

You and Satoru stare at the doorframe mortified,

another pair of mortified expressions looking back at you both,

Geto and Choso stood there with his jaw slacked open.

"The hell, did you not lock the door!?" you suddenly questioned Satoru who looks at you equally shocked.

"i did! You know I'm not that careless!"

before you could reply Geto spoke up

"Uh- I used my spare keys."

You and Satoru rolled eyes at that.

Choso screams "You are sleeping with that nerd!? You don't even answer my texts!"

its been a few weeks since,

You found out you weren't the only popular kid close to Satoru, Geto and him were close too.

You had no idea how you managed to never know an info like that, when asked he said he didn't think of it as a necessary information.

and turns out Utahime and Gojo really weren't on that good terms,

Utahime was whispering string of unimaginable profanities at him that day while Satoru was mockingly laughing at her and pissing her off even further.

You really are bad at reading situations guess.

nothing much has really changed since,

except, after Choso and Geto promised you both to keep your secret safe somehow ever so mysteriously the rumors of you and Satoru dating started to spread.

And it got confirmed when you just decided to stand up from your seat during lunch one day and sit down on your boyfriend's thick thighs like it was your birthright, you couldn't help it. They looked so thick and seatable.

The entire class stopped doing whatever they were doing and the room erupted in buzzing murmurs,

Satoru paused chewing on his food, surprised at your sudden move,

but he didn't push you off or anything.

Instead he proceeded to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you steady and peck our cheek before calmly picking up his chopsticks back again and continuing to eat.

That made you dramatically squeal and kick your feet as you watched the shell of his ear turn a very light shade of pink.

What a cute nerdy boyfriend you've got yourself who treats you like his literal princess <3

☆ — REBLOGS ARE APPRECITED !

(my hand hurts)

taglist: @ritsatoru @waka-babe

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #jjk #bookmark #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fic #nerd gojo #fluff #𝓵𝓸𝓿3𝓻𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱

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nsharks · 5 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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4imhry · 22 days

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toji & plush thighs <3

thighjobs are so fucking hotttttt!!

your thighs. your plush thighs are turning him on. so bad. you can be wearing shorts, trousers, pyjama pants or hardly anything and he will still get turned on by them. but right now, you were wearing a tight, thin yoga shorts. it wasn’t helping his hormones at all. you were sleeping with your back facing him, ass pressing so close to his raging hard on. his pre cum were literally oozing from his boxers.

“ugh..look what you do to me princess.” he said as he softly squish your ass.

toji can’t help but kept thinking of how pathetic he was from his cock erected by seeing your plushy thighs alone. he grunted softly as he palm himself through his grey pants. fuck. he needed you. wanted that sweet tight cunt of yours sucking his whole big cock as he kept kissing your cervix with his fat tip, wanted to wake you up with his cum gushing out of your pussy. (but he actually doesn’t want to)

he moaned as he immediately took off his pants, instantly rutting between your ass like an animal in heat. his huge hands found it’s place on your waist as he rut himself between your ass, the tip rubbing your clit as well. his speed was painfully slow for him because he didn’t want to wake you up from your deep slumber. his long cock was enough to reach the front of your cunt.

the tip of his cock often making contact with your drenching folds—mixed with his pre cum was torture for a lad named, toji. frequent chants of your name as he keep going, and going as his pre cum dripping from his thick veiny cock smeared all over the front of your tight yoga pants.

“so.fucking.hot.” he said as keep rolling his body against yours.

his movements slightly halted when you shifted in your sleep, clenching your thighs together unconsciously which applies more pressure to his cock. your murmured something incoherent but he shrugged it off, his two big palms slightly tighten its grip on your hips as he kept sliding, and rubbing his cock against your drenched cunt. “mmh haaah–fuck.”

he kept humping, humping and humping desperately to reach his orgasm. the thought of using you while you’re sleeping and the feeling of his swollen tip often rubbing against your soaking clit–the tip occasionally got inside your cunt slightly made him want to cum so bad. “o-ohh..y-yes haaaah.”

“want to c-cum.” he heaved as he keep rutting against you like a rabbit in heat. the sound of his groans and small whines filled the room while he sinfully rut his cock between your thighs.

“toji..” you lowly moaned when his movement accelerated, waking you up in process.

“baby, i-im sorry—haaah..ngh.” his thrusts becomes sloppy, the veins aligning his cock became even more prominent and his pinkish tip was on the edge of exploding anytime soon. he pulled you even closer to his body, your back pressed flush against his chest as he kept humping you. toji was intoxicated. too intoxicated with you to not have any sexual intercourse every time he saw those damn plushy thighs that drove him insane.

loud moans of his name erupted from your lips, increasing his ego knowing he made you feel good.

“does that feels good, baby?” his voice were hoarse and husky, adding even more fuel to the aching feeling in your cunt. his other hand sneaked to your breasts, squishing and fondle with your nipples while the other hand kept a tight grip on your hip, his hips now sensually humping your thighs in a godly speed which caused your to roll your eye due to the immense pleasure he gave you.

“t-toji! mmph...” his swollen cockhead was rubbing against your cunt–your arousal seeping out from your yoga pants. he went ballistic on you as soon as he realised you’re completely awake. he ended up cumming a few minutes after, thick rope of cums smearing the bedsheet. though he got hard again when you sensually grind yourself on him, feeling extremely horny because your man just can’t take his eyes–hands off of you.

oh boy, you were in for a longggggggg ride.

#fushiguro toji #jujutsu toji #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk toji #dilf toji #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji imagine #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji headcanons

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writingwithfolklore · 11 months

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Level Up Your Descriptions

I learnt a tip for resume writing that I find applies pretty well to novel writing too. Essentially, you shouldn’t write on your resume that you took orders and handled cash at the till at your restaurant job because people already know what a server does. You should write the unexpected or unique things you bring to the job.

Same with writing descriptions in fiction. There are certain things that people are going to automatically assume about others, about a place, about a thing. For example, you wouldn’t say, “she grabbed out brown coffee” or “the car drove on four wheels.” Because when we think coffee, we already think brown/beans, and when we think car, we already think four wheels.

This seems obvious, until you consider that mentioning that the café is warmly decorated, cozy, and is full of writers working on manuscripts and people catching up over coffee is… exactly that. While maybe a baseline of information like this is appropriate, all you needed to say was ‘café’ and we’re already in this image. For a setting or person that doesn’t mean much to the story, this could suffice.

However, for an important element in the narrative, you’re going to want to bring your descriptions beyond that assumed/obvious baseline.

We know an elderly person is going to have grey hair, shuffle slowly, and speak in a creaky voice. We might not know that their purse seems far too heavy for them, and they have a distinct smell of gunpowder that follows them into rooms.

I’m reading a book right now by Jasper FForde called ‘Jack Spratt Investigates The Big Over Easy’ and it’s full of interesting and unexpected descriptions. Here is one of my favourites:

“The years had been charitable to Mrs. Spratt, and despite her age she was as bright as a button and had certainly not lost any of her youthful zest. Jack put it down to quantity of children. It had either made her tough in old age or worn her out—if the latter, then without Jack and his nine elder siblings, she might have lived to one hundred ninety-six. She painted people’s pets in oils because ‘someone has to,’ collected small pottery animals, Blue Baboon LPs and Jellyman commemorative plates. She had been widowed seventeen years.”

Think of what things make a person or space you know well unique, and try to imbue those details into your work. What makes a place look lived in? What sort of objects or feel or smell does it have? What distinguishes your best friend from others in a crowd?

Feel free to share a description that's really stuck with you!

#writing #writers #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing community #books #film #filmmaking #screenwriting #novel writing #fanfiction #writeblr #descriptions #character description #level up your descriptions

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shellshocklove · 17 hours

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

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The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This <s>new</s> temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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bethanythebogwitch · 7 months

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I am a survivor of Florida, having gone to college there for 4.5 years. There's a lot (a LOT) to not like about Florida, but the wildlife is not one of those things. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'm gonna talk about the most famous Florida resident, the manatee. And why stop there? I'll discuss all the sirenians in one go.

(image: three manatees facing the camera. They are rotund, resembling a potato in shape. Their heads are smaller and end in squarish snouts. They have two flippers at the front of the head. The tail is flat, wide, and round. They are grey all over)

The sirenians are a taxonomic order of marine mammals consisting of 4 living members: three species of manatee and the dugong. They are the only herbivorous order of marine mammals, a trait that has given the the nickname "sea cows". The name Sirenia comes from the sirens of greek myth. In the original story, the sirens were bird with the heads and breasts of women, but later stories turned them into mermaids and that's the version that's stuck. There are unconfirmed stories that European sailors (the most common story uses Christopher Columbus) mistook manatees for mermaids, which is why they're named after sirens.

(image: a manatee facing the camera. Its face is visible, revealing two nostrils on a broad, flat shout covered in whiskers. It's eyes are located above the snout and are small and black. It is grey, but has patches of greenish algae growing on it)

Sirenians all have a pretty similar body plan. They are fusiform (bulky in the middle and narrower at the ends) and very bulky animals not built for speed. They don't ned to be fast (though are capable of short bursts of speed) because unlike other marine mammals, they are herbivorous. The vast majority of a sirenian's diet consists of sea grass and most of the rest is other aquatic plants. All species have been known to supplement their diet with invertebrates, mostly during times of poor food availability. When feeding, they move their snouts through the sediment, letting sensory bristles detect plants. They then use their flexible and muscular lips to pull up the sea grass, roots and all. While an individual can eat up to 15% of their body weight a day, they are known to seek out seagrass patches with higher nitrogen content instead of eating everything they can get. This reliance on seagrass limits the range of sirenians to shallow coastal areas, rivers, and estuaries in warm climates. Hearing and touch (with the bristles that cover their bodies) are their main senses. Their eyes are weak, making them almost blind. Sirenians are large, with the largest ever known, Stellar's sea cow, growing up to 10 meters (33 ft) and 11 tons. Mature sirenians are large enough to have no natural predators. Like all marine mammals not named sea otters, sirenians have a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm. Their bones are extremely dense and likely act as ballast to counteract the buoyancy of the blubber. In the marine mammal breath-holding competition, sirenians do pretty bad. They can hold their breath for about 15 minutes at max.

(image: a dugong. It is similar in appearance to a manatee, but skinnier. Its tail is a fluke with two points. Its head is larger and the snout and mouth point downwards)

Sirenian reproduction is somewhat poorly-understood. They only have a single calf at a time (with a gestation period of about a year) and mothers will raise them for one to two years. Calves mature quickly, reaching sexual maturity in around 2-5 years in manatees and 8 years in dugongs, though most females do not give birth until between 6 and 15 years. Their nipples are located behind the flippers, making a nursing calf appear to be sucking its mother's armpit. Sirenians are solitary animals who typically only congregate in groups when females are in estrus. Males are believed to compete for the right to mate and may engage in lekking. Lekking is when a male will claim a territory and mate with females in this territory while chasing opposing males out. Sirenians live long lives, with the oldest known individual being a female dugong that lived to 73. Despite how long they live, each female will only get pregnant a few times in her life.

(image: a manatee mother with calf. The calf looks like a smaller version of the mother and is suckling, making it appear to be biting the mother's armpit)

As with all marine mammals, sirenians are descended from land mammals. The study of sirenian evolution has led to a surprising conclusion: the closest relatives of sirenians are elephants. It sounds weird, but there is substantial DNA evidence supporting this conclusion. In addition, the tusks of a dugong (see below) and flexible and prehensile lips of sirenians are based on the same structures as the tusks and trunks of elephants. It gets better, the next closest relative of both groups are the hyraxes, who look more like rodents than anything that should be related to an elephant or a manatee. All three are part of a clade called paenungulata, which is part of a clade called afrotheria. The other main group within afrotheria is afroinsectiphilia, which consists of aardvarks and various shrews. The afrotherian family reunions must be wild.

(image: a scientific diagram showing a cladogram of afrotheria and the groups within it. source)

The dugong (Dugong dugon) is the last surviving member of its family, which also included the now extinct giant Stellar's sea cow. The easiest way to tell a dugong apart from a manatee is its tail, which is shaped like a dolphin's fluke instead of the round tails of manatees. Internally, there are also multiple differences, many of them relating to the skull. The skull has a very distinct shape, with the upper jaw bending down at a sharp angle. The tip of the upper jaw has two short tusks emerging from it. These tusks are found in moth males and females, but develop differently. In males, they emerge when the calf reaches sexual maturity, while those of females only emerge later in life and sometimes not at all. It is believed that these tusks are used by males to fight over females, as males are often found with scars matching the shape of the tusks. Dugong teeth as simpler than those of manatees, being simple pegs. While manatee teeth will be replaced continuously through life, dugongs only get one set and have to make it count. Dugongs reach an average length of 3 m (10 ft) and 420 kg (930 lbs). Dugongs have the largest range of any sirenian, stretching from east Africa to the Solomon islands east of Australia. This range is fragmented rather than continuous and dugongs are separated into multiple isolated populations. The largest population is believed to exist in northern Australia.

(image: a dugong feeding on seagrass, seen from the front. It's snout is being dragged through the sediment, leaving a cloud of dirt behind it. Small yellow fish surround it)

The west Indian manatee (Trichechus manatus) does not live in west India. It lives in North America. I dunno who named it, but you had one job. The species is divided into two subspecies: the Florida manatee (T. m. latriostris) found in the Gulf of Mexico and east coast of the United States, and the Antillean manatee (T. m. manatus) found in the Caribbean and down south to Brazil. The Antillean subspecies is much more poorly known compared to the Florida subspecies. The Florida manatee may be the most well-studied of all manatees due to the extensive conservation efforts regarding them since the 1970s. Like other manatees, the WI manatee has a round, paddle-like tail and fingernails on its flippers. Their diaphragms are divided into two hemidiaphragms, each of which contracts one lung. They have the northernmost territory of all manatees, which comes with some consequences. They are susceptible to stress and even death when exposed to water under 20 degrees C (68 F). They travel south during winter, usually to southern Florida, but conservationists still have to rehabilitate manatees harmed by cool water every year.

(image: tourists in transparent kayaks observing a west Indian manatee swim below them)

The Amazonian manatee (Trichechus inunguis) is the only sirenian that lives entirely in freshwater, residing in the Amazon river basin. They move seasonally inhabiting flooded areas during the wet season and lakes during the dry season. They fast during the dry season, subsisting off of their fat stores. There are believed to be multiple relatively isolated populations of Amazonian manatee, but studying them is difficult due to them preferring to live in areas away from humans. The Amazonian manatee is the smallest sirenian, reaching between 160 and 230 cm (5 ft 4 in to 7 ft 7 in) and 120 to 270 kg (265 to 595 lbs). Scientist Marc van Roosmalen has proposed the existence of a related species, the dwarf manatee, that lives only in one tributary of Aripuanã river, which is in the habitat range of the Amazonian manatee. Their existence is debated, but most manatee scientists think that they are misidentified juvenile Amazonian manatees.

(image: an Amazonian manatee with calf, seen from ahead and below. they have the same body plan as the above images, but are a darker grey with a white patch on the stomach)

The African manatee (Trichechus senegalensis) is the only species found in the old world, in west Africa from Senegal to Angola. They occupy the largest range of habitats of all sirenians, from tropical islands to flooded forests, to offshore sand flats, to lakes and rivers. They will swim up river during the wet season and back down during dry season. Some isolated populations live exclusively in rivers, never venturing out to sea. They are the most omnivorous of the sirenians, seeking out invertebrates to eat and stealing fish from nets. Many cultural groups in their range consider the African manatee sacred, some saying they used to be people and that killing one requires paying a penance. Mami Wata, a water spirit revered in throughout west, central, and south Africa, has been identified with manatees by some folklorists.

(image: an African manatee seen from the side in an aquarium. It looks almost identical to the west Indian manatee)

All sirenians are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, except for the Antillean manatee, which is endangered. As they have few to no predators as adults, the primary threats for all sirenians come from humans. Boat strikes and getting tangled in nets kills and injures many individuals, possibly more than die of natural causes. This is not helped by them lacking fear responses to predators, meaning they don't flee from humans and boats. All species were historically hunted for their meat, blubber, and bones, reducing their populations. While all species are now legally protected, poaching and legal hunting by indigenous groups still occurs. They are also threatened by habitat loss as coastal development, pollution, and climate change reduces the range of seagrass. Damming has also reduced their ability to travel up rivers, cutting off valuable feeding ground. Learning about freshwater ecology will make you despise dams. In the United States, the west Indian manatee has become an icon of conservation, especially in Florida, where they have extensive legal protections. Controversially, the US government reduced their legal protections in 2017, much to the ire of many conservation groups. The manatee is the state marine mammal of Florida, presumably narrowly beating out dolphins and meth heads wandering around the everglades.

(image: two juvenile manatees who were abandoned by their mothers. They are being bottle fed by employees of the Cincinnati zoo. Ideally, they will be able to be released into the wild once weaned)

#wet beast wednesday #sirenia #manatee #dugong #west indian manatee #amazonian manatee #african manatee #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #marine mammals

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swallowtail-lotus · 3 months

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🔱Secret Lullaby {Poseidon x Goddess!Reader}🔱

Repost of my original post from my old blog.

God, just looking at him makes me want to kiss him 😍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the middle of your greenhouse, patting a small bunny that hopped in your lap. You watched the past few rounds of ragnarok with sad eyes, feeling dread inside.

Being the God/Goddess of peace wasn't easy.

You love humans and everything on Earth, as it is your home. Before you went to Valhalla, you used to live in a forest where no human dared to set foot in unless If they wanted a death wish.

Of course, you never brought harm to humans but you eventually left after Zeus found you and offered you to live with the gods.

Being the secretive being you are, you agreed but only if no deity disturbs you when you wanted to be left alone and to never let them know of your secret place.

So far, no God or Goddess has ever found your greenhouse. Even if they bothered to try, they couldn't find it. This was due to one of your masking spells, which was more effective to deities compared to the humans.

Thinking back on how the gods have tried to get answers out of you, but failed due to your ability to slip away fast enough. Those thoughts escalated to your past, where you were once filled with joy.

With your mother, who had lost her life to another God.

"I miss you, mother. So very much."

You thought, wiping away tears that slowly trickled down your face. You looked down at the bunny, who looked up and sat up. It leaned against your chest, trying to lean its face towards yours. You lifted the small bunny up and felt its face nuzzle yours, an attempt to cheer you up.

"Ah, thank you. I feel better now."

You cooed softly, patting its head with a sad smile. You felt something nudge your leg, something hard. You leaned forward to see a small harp near your right foot and a grey bunny pushing it towards your foot.

You held your hand over the harp, watching it levitate towards your hand. The grey bunny hopped on your right leg, nuzzling your waist while the white bunny copied the grey bunny.

"Such cuties."

You mumbled softly, watching them get comfortable on your lap and stopped to lay down. Your fingers hovered over the strings of your harp, slightly shaking from the sadness building up.

"Hope you're hearing this, mother..."

You muttered under your breath, strumming your harp slowly. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drown in the melodic music from your strumming. You opened your lips to sing quietly.

Soon, the animals in your greenhouse started to gather around, watching and listening to your voice. Then, the plants started swaying slowly to the music. At the end of the lullaby, a voice brought you out of your thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes shot open at the sudden voice, growing wider when you saw who it was.

It was none other than Poseidon, the Sea God himself.

You stared at the God before you, internally panicking, mainly about how he knew of your greenhouse. You placed the harp down nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

"I-I was just playing a lullaby. Umm, how did you find my greenhouse?"

You squeaked out, feeling yourself shrink smaller when the God took a few steps forward, not too close to you.

"... It wasn't hard to follow you. I've known for a long time."

He answered, his emotionless face along with his voice sending chills down your spine. You knew very well he never speaks much to any being, even to his brothers. So him speaking to you now of all times baffled you. Truth be told, he has spoke to you more times than anyone else. But hearing him ask about your main hobby was strange.

The reason behind that was most likely because you were a Ruler, the Ruler of Nature.

"So you have. Never expected less from you, of course."

You spoke, gripping your clothes so tightly. Poseidon raised his eyebrows slightly, his shoulders dropping.

"....."

He kept silent, staring down at you with his dull eyes. Your head was down, but you knew he was staring. The sound of his boots clicking away got your attention. You held the bunnies close to you, standing up from your seat.

"See you, Lord Poseidon."

You whispered. Poseidon stopped at the entrance of your greenhouse, giving you the side eye glance.

".... Goodbye."

Those was the last words he let out before leaving. You stood in silence, a confused look on your face.

"What just happened?"

#record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #poseidon x reader

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muchosbesitos · 8 months

Text

fetish

pairing: ex boyfriend miguel x fem reader

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), doggy, and mating press (pretty sure i probs forgot smth 🧍🏻)

author’s note: i got the idea from listening to the song and i hope you enjoy lol :)

word count: 2830

You swore to yourself that last time was the last time that you would hook up with your ex again, but despite how much you wanted to, you still found your way under his sheets again. Even though you said those words to him at the end of the night, you both knew you were lying and would continue with that cycle. Miguel wasn't a bad boyfriend per se, he did have some struggles with communicating properly and had some unresolved mommy issues, but he treated you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. In the time that you did spend together anyways, since he did always prioritize the Spider Society over you.

You spent your day off running some errands and taking care of your mental health, watching some tv and finding ways to unwind for the following work week. Around 11 while you were binging your favorite series, your phone pinged with a message from Miguel.

stop going back to him(pls): I managed to leave hq early if you wanna come over. I bought those empanadas you liked from Queens.

You felt the internal conflict in your brain, wanting to say no to him and stay home but you also knew that a part of you missed having Miguel hold you and tell you sweet nothings after having sex. You thought about it for a couple seconds before realizing that you'd binged the entire series in one sitting, blaming that as the reason why you would go over to Miguel's place. You wanted to be mad at him for reaching out after telling him that last time would be the last time, but how could you if you kept going back despite pushing him away?

Your palms grew clammy as you paced around Miguel's front porch, thinking if you should just run away and never come back here. You stopped your pacing and looked up when you heard the front door open, seeing Miguel standing there with a puzzled look on his face. "I didn't mean to interrupt your quarter life crisis but my camera sent out an alert," he spoke up a bit later, rubbing the back of his back awkwardly. Your common sense went out the window when you saw him leaning against the doorframe in just a pair of grey sweatpants hung just low enough to get a glimpse of his happy trail and water droplets clinging to his pecs like he just got out the shower.

You stepped into his house, noting that he'd made it look a bit more homely, turning on a eucalyptus candle and had even gotten a small, black cat. Your brow arched as the cat approached you, since Miguel wasn't too fond of animals usually, but you bent down to pet it nonetheless. "My therapist said it might be helpful to get some sort of grieving buddy," he mumbled, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. "It's cute, what's it's name?" you asked, taking the cat in your arms as you stroked its back. "That's Apollo, he's a pretty decent cat. Doesn't poop outside the litter box," Miguel said, looking over at you as you scratched Apollo’s belly and sat down on the couch.

Miguel handed you the empanada he'd mentioned in the texts wrapped up in a napkin along with a ice cold Coke. "Colombian empanadas?" You asked, pursing your lips a little in amusement since you knew Miguel usually preferred mexican ones. "The little mexican restaurant around the corner was closed, but I'll have to give it to you, those are pretty good," he replied as he sat down on the couch next to you, turning on the tv. He placed one arm around your shoulders as you ate your empanada, just enjoying the pleasure of your company at the moment. "How's it going at the society?" You asked curiously, glancing over at him as you saw his jaw clench a bit. "It's good, got some new recruits and we're in the process of training them," he says after a couple seconds, his jaw unclenching as he takes a bite out of his empanada.

About half an hour later, you two had finished up eating up the empanadas and were just curled up on the couch watching Breaking Bad. "What if we run off to New Mexico and cook meth?" You asked Miguel, your lips curling into a smile as he shook his head, laughing a bit. "Knowing you, we'd probably end up burning the rv," he replied, poking your cheek teasingly. "Well that's what you're there for, for all the science-y stuff while I sit there and look pretty," you told him, a grin on your face as you made the suggestion. His hand gently rubbed circles on your lower back as you leaned against his shoulder, before he spoke out again, "Do you wanna head to the bedroom?"

You knew you should've stopped it there, after he asked you that question but you couldn't help but nod and walk with him to the bedroom. He walked with you to the bedroom, leaving the cat laying on the couch, while his hand gently stroked your back. The physical affection he was giving you was unusual, but you still basked it in the small acts nonetheless. He closed the door behind you, grabbing some of the research papers he had on his bed and putting them off to the side. You took off your shoes and set them off the side, looking over at Miguel as he walked closer to you.

"I missed you," he whispered against your neck, his fangs gently grazing the skin as he started to kiss it. You felt your legs tremble underneath you from how sweetly his lips were running against your skin and Miguel gestured for you to jump, leading you two to his bed. He sat down, placing you on his lap as he started to unbutton your blouse. "Siempre te ves tan chula, corazón," he spoke softly, like the words were only dignified to be heard by you two as he leaned in and pressed soft kisses on your collarbone. He bit down on your shoulder and ran over it with his tongue, letting out a soft moan as your hands tugged on his hair. He continued to nip and lick at your skin, soft moans and heavy breaths filling up the room before he reached your bra. "Are you sure about this, querida?" He asked, his finger toying with the strap as he looked at you for any signs of discomfort. "I'm sure," you replied, watching as his eyes darkened with need and he snapped your bra with his talon. (you always look so gorgeous, love/darling)

"Was it really necessary to snap my bra off?" You grumbled a bit, the thought dying off as you felt his mouth envelop your nipple. "I'll buy you as many bras as you want," he murmured, lifting his head up slightly so you'd hear him before going back to sucking on your nipples. His tongue formed small circles around your areola as your hands wound tightly in his hair. His other hand began rubbing small circles too, providing you with the same amount of pleasure in each one. He pulled away from your nipple a couple seconds later just to switch places, leaving small marks and hickeys in his wake.

He laid you down on the bed after he was sufficiently satisfied with the marks he left on your breasts, working on taking off your pants. You saw the look in his eyes darken a bit as he spread your legs apart, realizing that you weren't wearing any panties. "Toda mojadita y solo para mí, hm?" He said as he got in between your legs, looking up at you. "Solo para ti," you murmured, your hands tangled up in his hair as he slowly started kissing on your calves. It was true, even if you reprimanded yourself every time you exited Miguel's house with your makeup messed up, nobody could make you feel or make you cum the same way that he did. His mouth moved upwards, leaving small kisses as he did before he reached your pussy. He let out a small chuckle as he saw you open your legs instinctively, almost welcoming him in. "What if we try something new?" (all wet and just for me/just for you)

When Miguel had suggested something new, your brain started conjuring up what he could be talking about but you didn't think he'd actually tell you to sit on his face. "I'm Spider-Man, cmon, what could go wrong?" He remarked after you made a comment about crashing his face, your face flushing a shade of deep red. "Fine, but if it starts to get too much just tell me," you said to him after a while of consideration, sitting on his lap. "I think I should be the one telling you that," he replied with a small chuckle, helping you move up to his face. You felt yourself growing nervous as you looked down at Miguel, his eyes glistening with want. You decided to hover against his face for now, feeling his tongue gently running through your thighs.

"I thought I told you to use my face like a damn chair. ¿Qué parte de eso no entiendes, preciosura?" He asked, tsking his tongue as his hands pushed down on your thighs. You gave up on your last bit of resistance when you noticed how much he seemed to want it, your thighs on either side of his face. He let out a small groan as he licked a stripe on your folds, your thighs enclosing tighter around his head. He pulled on your folds gently, his hands massaging your thighs as he took his time to really taste you. (what part of that don’t you understand, precious?)

His tongue slipped inside, licking away at the wetness that was building up. He plunged his tongue deep inside of you, swirling it in just the right way that had your mouth wide open and your hands gripping his hair tightly. "Don't stop," you moaned out, feeling him start to suck on your pussy with a new vigor. You began moving your hips against his face, seeking out your release. His mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it and licking it with just the right amount of pressure as two of his fingers plunged deep inside you. He curled his fingers, pumping them in and out at a steady pace and you felt your orgasm building up. "Miguel, I'm about to cum," you warned, but he didn't relent and held you down with his other hand.

He started licking up your release from your pussy and off his fingers, helping you get off his face. You got a good look at his face, noticing how soaked his mouth and chin were but he didn't seem to care. "Tan deliciosa," he murmured, raising your chin as he kissed you softly. The taste of you and him combined was intoxicating, something that you couldn't get in another place. You got down on your knees, starting to take Miguel's sweats off before he did it for you, taking them off in record time. "And here you were calling me out for not having panties," you said with a small laugh, his cock slapping your chin as he finished up with taking off his pants. "Gotta let the cheeks breathe." (so delicious)

You swiped the precum building up at the tip with your pointer finger, your gaze on him as you licked it. Your mouth enclosed around his cock, your gaze on him as you started to suck on the tip. He put his hand at the back of your head, slowly starting to guide you deeper. One of your hands was wrapped around his shaft, pumping the parts that you couldn't take in your mouth as your other hand cupped his balls, massaging them. He let out a moan when he looked down to see your nose pressed against his pubic hair, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You pulled away, a string of saliva left before you went back to sucking on his cock.

He let out a guttural moan as your mouth enclosed around his cock perfectly, your hands cupping and tugging on his balls. You took more of his length in your mouth, looking up at him as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. "I'm gonna cum, princesa," he moaned out, his hand on the back of your head. You didn't relent, your mouth still taking his length entirely as he shot out spurts of cum in your mouth. He released completely in your moan, your eyes capturing his as you swallowed his cum. He took your hand, helping you up as he guided you back to the bed. "On your hands and knees, cariño." (princess/sweetheart)

You quickly got to your hands and knees, letting out a small yelp as you felt a slap on your ass. He gripped your hips tightly as he slipped inside you, your previous orgasm providing him with the lubrication he needed. He started off slow, his hands on your hips as he thrusted before quickening his pace. His heavy balls slapped against your thighs as his hips moved at an animalistic pace to help you both reach that peak of pleasure. His hand pulled on your hair, pulling you close to him as he kissed on your shoulders, biting down. He couldn't help but smile at seeing your shoulders marked by him, knowing that he imprinted himself on you at least for a couple days. One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing fervent circles on it as he basked in the way your hands clawed at the sheets underneath you. Your mouth contorted in an 'o' shape, letting out moans of Miguel's name.

"Right there, Miguel!" You moaned out loudly, holding the sheets underneath you in a vice as you felt your orgasm building up once more. With one final thrust of his hips, you slumped against the bed as you came, clear liquid coating the base of Miguel's cock. You took a few moments to come down from your high, looking over to see that Miguel was already ready for the second round. You laid on your back when he pushed your knees against your chest, slowly pushing his cock back inside you.

Your walls tightly clamped around his cock as he started to thrust inside you, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he started to move faster. Miguel’s gaze was focused on the way your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he thrusted faster, your walls clenching around him tightly. "You say each time is the last one but no one can fuck you like this, hm?" He said, his mouth in a cocky smirk as he continued to move against you. "No! Nobody can," You babbled, all coherent thought dying with each one of his thrusts. He let out a small chuckle before one of his hands started to circle around your clit, rubbing it just right. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix as he thrusted deeply, your hands clutching onto the sheets even tighter.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock brush up against your g-spot, your toes curling as he made it his mission to continue to hit that spot. Your walls clenched around his cock tightly before you came once more, clear white liquid hitting his abdomen. "No one else can make you squirt like I can, isn't that right?" He teased you, thrusting in you one last time before he came, his cum dripping from your pussy to his bedsheets. He took out his softening cock out of you a couple seconds later, grabbing a rag from his bedside table to clean you up.

"You don't have to go right away, y'know? Stay a while," he spoke up after a while, rubbing small circles on your stomach as he looked at you. However, you were already wallowing in regret as he did so, blaming yourself for not having enough self control to deny his desires every time he called. Despite all this, you did stay for a while and enjoyed his company, pretending for a moment that he did actually want something more with you apart from a late night fuck.

You quickly picked up your clothes about an hour later, putting them on as you glanced over to see Miguel already looking at you. You finished up getting dressed and fixed up your hair, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. You lingered for a moment before whispering, "This is the last time."

You could only hoped that you sounded convincing enough to Miguel.

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