#scent of wildflowers and dust | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

empyreva · 2 months

Text

Daisies

Summary: All you want is to have ONE nice date with Luke without him sabotaging it in some way--surely a flower meadow is safe

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, Luke and reader are sassy and silly with each other, flirting, teasing, Luke loves getting under your skin, implied sex, vague nudity, 17+

A/N: My thoughts got ahead of me....I liked the idea of reader being like the A type partner and Luke loves messing with her--but you braid flowers in his hair anyway!!

The air is thick with the scents of lavender and honeysuckle--wildflowers dancing with the wind, bending gently but never breaking under the force. Here and there, butterflies and bees dart from flower to flower, sipping nectar lazily.

As you step onto the sprawling expanse of green grass, you can't help but gasp at the scene in front of you. It was like Gaia herself handpicked this location--a sprawling meadow between junctions of neighboring forests, brimming with life. "Wow..." You breathed out, eyes wide with excitement for your perfect picnic date.

From behind you, the tall grass rustled--a strong arm snaking its way around your waist. Your boyfriend's eyes were pointed ahead, silently contemplating the sanctuary the two of you had found while attempting to get some private time away from the camp. Tugging on Luke's shirt, you enticed him to lean over for a quick kiss before you beckoned him to follow you as you searched for the perfect place to settle down--taking his hand in yours as you ventured further.

"Here's good?" You stopped in front of a small clearing in the field, a patch of dirt stripped bare and empty. Despite being objectively dead, it seemed well-loved, a little TLC would be needed to brush away dust and stray weeds--How many demigods before you had snuck away to this place? The romantic notion alone made your heart flutter.

"Perfect," Luke drawled, giving you a cheeky smile. Enthusiastically, you billowed out the large sheet you had tucked in the small picnic basket--fussing over making sure there were no crinkles in the fabric or sharp rocks underneath it. Watching you bend over and curse as dirt scuffed your pretty white dress had his own thoughts wandering--He honestly couldn't care less about where the two of you ended up.

After deeming everything to be perfectly in place, you dragged Luke down next to you, giggling as he stumbled into a comfortable sitting position. You began to ramble on about something--Luke honestly didn't care much for conversation. He offered you a couple "Mhm"s and "Oh yeah?"s, feigning interest in what you and Annabeth discovered while cleaning out the shed behind Athena's cabin. His eyes flickered down.

Gods, you weren't even wearing a bra.

"Luke--Luke!!" Suddenly you were right in front of him, nose to nose as your eyebrows furrowed. "Are you even listening?"

"Uh-uhm yeah--So uhhhhhh....So what happened after Percy killed that...Lizard?"

"Tarantula, Luke. And he didn't kill it, he just flung it somewhere and told Annabeth that he killed it," you sighed, pushing your hair back with one hand. Luke felt like he had been pierced through the heart, gazing intently at you as you preened yourself for a moment. "But, anyway, Annabeth was so cute because she..."

"It's a bit hot, don't you think?" He interjected, fingers skirting along the exposed flesh of your thigh--peeking out from beneath your white dress. "Like, I'm actually sooo hot--Aren't you feeling it?" You gasped and pouted, gently pushing his wandering hand back to his side of the blanket. No no, you weren't going to let him win, again. The last time the two of you even tried to leave for a date, he 'accidentally' spilled something all over your shirt so you had to change. In front of him.

"C'mon, Luke, the food's gonna go bad if we start now!" You whined, pointing at the two perfectly crafted sandwiches you made, not to mention the various fresh fruits you packed up for dessert!! Completely ignoring you, Luke shrugged his shirt off from over his head, letting it fall somewhere in the nearby daisies. A smirk danced across his face, noticing the way your gaze immediately diverted the second he was facing you again. His abs had a slight shine to them, his biceps flexing as he pushed himself onto his haunches. "A-Aren't you hungry? We've been walking for like--like an hour!"

"Oh, I'm hungry--starved, even..." Luke pushed the basket out of the way, a slow crawl landing his lips just a breath away from yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes locking with Luke's--Gods he just had this way of getting you right under his thumb. A large hand slipped all the way up your dress, gently massaging the burning-hot flesh of your chest.

"I just have this...craving for something else."

"This is fucking amazing, baby," Luke moaned, his fingers dwarfing what remained of his sandwich. His head lay on your bare lap, cradled between your knees as he lounged, free as a bird, basking in the warmth of the sun and summer air. "Best. Sandwich. Ever."

"Thank you," you huffed, one hand massaging his scalp as the other supported your dinner. "You spoilt brat..." Luke frowned at the words that you muttered under your breath, reaching a hand up to flick at your nose.

"Hey!"

"I'm not a brat," he whined, poking at your jaw like a child. "Don't say that."

"Don't say that," you mocked. "Gods, can you ever NOT act like a big baby."

"Just for you, my girl."

You looked down at your boyfriend's handsome face--His mischievous brown eyes sparkled under the soft rays of the setting sun, while his dark curls fell around his forehead in gentle waves. Laughter escaped him as you gave his ribs a soft tickle, and he tried to evade you for a second before you decided that you wanted to try and actually be romantic. Something about these teenage boys...

You turned to your side and reached over, plucking a few daisy blossoms from the ground—a bouquet of white. With a smile, you began delicately threading them through his locks. Some clung tight to his scalp, others drifted lightly to the tips of his curls. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, relishing the sensation of your fingers against his skin--the soft tugging and gentle petting as you crafted a sort of halo.

"My handsome boy," you murmured, hoping to commit this moment to memory. Luke was growing sleepy, you could tell by how his eyes fought to stay open long enough to gaze into yours--the rise and fall of his chest in the rhythm of a euphony of crickets in the distance. He looked so pretty like this, so vulnerable, so trusting. You wished that this day would never end.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #pjo tv show #percy jackson

410 notes · View notes

bby-deerling · 5 months

Note

hi! can you write ace x reader with the prompt “will you be there” (possibly after marine ford but if not that’s okay too 😭) i just feel like it’s fit him really well tysm 🫶

your mind anon <3<3........prepare for angst

ace + will you be there (sfw, gn!reader)

wc: 494 masterlist

cw: character death, grieving

Portgas D. Ace was dead. It was all over the newspapers, and hanging in the air in whispers wherever you went. His absence was heavy and suffocating, viscerally felt in the in the painful chill beneath your covers at night, or seen in the way Marco hung his head when he thought no one else was looking, or heard in the uncomfortable silence during dinner that usually was filled with Ace’s laughter, ringing out into the night. Ace’s hat gently swayed in the breeze atop his grave; you saw both him and Pops buried with your own two eyes—you saw them both meet their demises with your own two eyes.

However, despite all the looming evidence, something inside you couldn’t let go of the sensation that he was still with you. An old inside joke accidentally slides off your tongue when talking to Marco, and you feel the heat of his palms pressing into your shoulders. The shade of a cloud covers the deck, and you feel the brim of his hat shielding your face from the sun. An open flame, whether on the stove or belonging to a campfire became increasingly difficult to face; your eyes searched desperately for his face, his fingers, any sign of his presence. He visits you in your dreams nightly, leaving you a crushed pile of sobs when you awaken to an empty bed and the absence of his scent.

Even the novelty of sailing to uninhabited islands does nothing to curb the memories you’re constantly drowning in. The silky-smooth feeling of a flower petal between your fingers reminds you of the wildflower bouquets he would bring you, goofy grin on his face. Twinkling, bright stars shining uninhibitedly remind you of the dusting of freckles across his cheeks, and gleam of ambition in his eyes. The warm, comforting touch of your morning coffee touching your lips leaves you ghosting your fingers across them, almost able to close your eyes and feel his mouth pressed to yours.

Sometimes, these little reminders of Ace were soothing, leaving you grateful that he wouldn’t slip into the void of forgotten memories.

Sometimes, it was simply too much to handle.

“He’s just passing by to check on you. Hold some space for him to spend some time with you.” Marco says, rubbing your shoulder as you fall apart into sobs, collapsed on the deck. You aren’t even sure what caused that twinge of grief in your chest this time; perhaps there was no reason at all, and you simply could not contain your emotions any longer. However, Marco’s words comfort you for the time being, allowing you to steady your breathing and feel the peace of Ace’s spirit settling into the chasm in your chest.

The sun’s rays warm the exposed skin of your arms. In this moment, you simply breathe deeply with a weak smile, and let yourself imagine it’s the flames on the tips of his fingers tickling you instead.

#one piece x reader #x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #one piece scenario

161 notes · View notes

olive-fics · 6 months

Note

Maybe you could write abt older abby thats like a cowboy and her and the reader live together and their like happy n domestic?!

-Sure! Love this idea hehe (not proofread.. like usual)

Abby leaned against the wooden fence, her gaze fixed on the hills that stretched out before her. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue across the expanse of the farmland. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of hay and the sweet aroma of wildflowers. A toothpick sat between her teeth as she wiped small beads of sweat from her forehead onto her pants.

The sound of your voice carried from the barn, breaking the silence calling out that supper was ready. Abby pushed herself away from the fence, her worn boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as she walked towards the homestead.

Abby trudged up the porch steps, her boots heavy with the day's accumulated dirt, making sure to not track any more grime into the house. She had dirt, oil, and who knows what else on her hands from the farm work she had been doing.

"In the kitchen Abs!" You called out to her with a giggle.

You stood in the kitchen, your hand, steady and practiced, tapped a spatula against the sizzling pan of bacon, releasing a tantalizing symphony of sizzles and pops. Upon the wooden countertop, golden-brown biscuits, along with a pot simmered with corn and a plate of porkchops.

Abby walked in and leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen, she was dirty and smelled like the barn, her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead and neck..

"Well, aren't you a dirty lady?" you laughed, a playful glint in your eyes as you couldn't resist teasing her. You grabbed a damp rag from the sink, moving closer to where she stood. With a gentle touch, you began helping her wash away the grime from her face.

"I can do it myself, pumpkin," Abby giggled, her voice filled with affection. She leaned down and planted a soft, tender kiss onto your forehead. Her smile held a mixture of playfulness and gratitude, as she tried to keep her dirty hands away from your clean clothes and body.

"Baby it looks too good.. I can't wait to eat." Abby murmured into your ear. "I'll fix you a plate, hon. Go sit," you insisted with a warm smile, your voice filled with care and affection. You leaned in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her lips before she could protest.

With the plate of delicious food in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, you walked over to the table and set everything down. As Abby began to eat, you settled into your own seat across from her, your gaze fixed on her.

"It's great, Y/N. I love it like always." Abby giggled, her mouth muffled from the food, she said followed by a genuine smile.

"Good- I know how hard you've been working and I just wanted to make sure-"

"No need to explain yourself okay?" Abby put her hand on yours rubbing it gently. "It's wonderful my love."

You smiled and nodded.

♡

Later that night you snuggled next to Abby on the couch reading a book together, "Sense and Sensibility" -Jane Austen. Abby's hums were enough to make anyone drowsy, it was like a drug to you..slowly making your eyes heavier...

"Getting sleepy baby girl..?" Abby would murmur so she didn't wake you.. Gently petting your hair and caressing your cheek, she looked down at you and noticed you were out. Her lips pulling into a tender smile..She gently bookmarked the page in the book.

"alright then..bed time it is." She carefully lifted you into her arms, up the stairs, right into bed where she too would tuck you in and cuddle right behind you holding you close.

"Goodnight, my love."

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

hehe sorry for my break I've had no motivation to do anything. :,) I really like this prompt and I honestly wanna write more on it.. IDK YOU GUYS LMK!!!!! :))

ALSO. TYSM FOR 180 FOLLOWERS?? HELLO? WHERE DID U GUYS COME FROM LOL. I LOVE U ALL.

ok, peace!!

#tlou fic #fanfic #lesbian #wlw #tlou fanfiction #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #headcanons #headcanon #im so gay #cowgirl #cowboy #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #sfw interaction only #sfw little community

296 notes · View notes

palmtreesx3 · 9 months

Text

Season 1 Steve smells like chlorine and a twinge of cigarettes. He smells like a fresh shower after practice, spearmint gum and just-done laundry. He smells like light dusting of aerosol from his hairspray. He smells like just a touch of Ralph Lauren Polo - all bergamot and cedar and mossy - because his dad bought it for him and told him real men where cologne. He smells like hints of leather, because Harrington's only wear the real stuff. Tucking your nose into his neck smells like a boy trying to be a man, it smells safe and comfortable but a little daring. A little boy next door, but a little trouble all at once.

Season 2 Steve smells like a bit of leather and musk following him around after gym or basketball practice. There's the lingering soft and delicate floral notes of Nancy Wheelers perfume., but that's all quickly overpowered by the nutty, honey scent of his shampoo. He still smells like laundry, clean and crisp. Like fresh air and a fall breeze and a boy who likes to sit outside and think about what comes next. He smells like apple cider and nutmeg and a bonfire before the homecoming football game. He smells woodsy and grassy from his climb up the tall oak tree to get through your window and he smells like pencil shavings and the textbooks he's carrying around trying too hard too late to make something of himself.

Season 3 Steve smells like sweet vanilla bean and with undertones of disinfectant from scrubbing the dishes at Scoops at the end of his shift. It's all cherry chapstick on his lips, making things sweet. He smells like fruity popsicles and there's a buttery scent of popcorn on his jacket that he just can't shake from all his dates at the movie theater. He smells like root beer floats and fresh cut grass and the wildflowers he tucks behind your ears by the lake. He smells a bit like what you would expect sunshine feels like, on a warm summer day by the pool and when he leans in close, you just know he'll taste like butterscotch if you kiss because you already smell it on his tongue.

Season 4 Steve Smells like cherry rope candy and that Family Video vest permanently smelling of Calvin Klein Obsession for Men, all lavender and a little spice. He carries around the faintest smell of crisp apples and peach and maybe a little patchouli - Robin's perfume and shampoo clinging to him from their morning car rides and counteracting the waxy smell of 100 rewound VHS tapes. He smells warm, like a flickering fall fire might feel, and a bit like the coffee he's taken up drinking between dropping Robin off at school and the start of his shift. He smells less put together than before, but more natural, like the cedarwood candle he burns in the living room when you come over and he tries to impress you and the fresh linen smell of his sheets.

#steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington thoughts

329 notes · View notes

lebenspurpur · 1 year

Text

what do they smell like

AN: I know I did this before, but I need to correct myself. Plus, it was like 2 years ago, so..

ℝℤ 𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕄𝕪𝕖𝕣𝕤

Most of the time, he smells like sweat and that sweet coppery odor of blood.

That changes whenever he actually decides to take a shower and change his clothes.

Suddenly he smells like nothing. And I mean nothing.

If you inhale deeply enough, you might get a faint whiff of sanitizer, like the kind they use in hospitals, but that's it.

You can decide for yourself if that's a blessing or a curse.

𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Paraffin wax.

So he smells like plastic and, like, the worst kind.

Maybe you need to convince him to use some bee wax candles for a change. Or some wax that smells like something nice, at least.

Which makes me think of another headcannon: Vincent hates the smell of cheap scented candles. He can not stand them. You'd think his nose might be desensitized to bad smells by now, but no.

The only scented candles he allows in his basement are the expensive ones, with real dried flowers or some good essential oils.

Other than paraffin wax, he smells like his body wash, which is the same as Bo's.

(You can not convince me they do not share one. Maybe buy him some nice shampoo while we're at it.)

The smell of the wax easily overpowers anything else, though.

𝔹𝕠 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Bo prides himself on owning some really nice cologne.

So, if he applies that, he actually smells really nice.

Other than that: cigarettes.

I feel like he actually has a nice smell, though. He smells like someone who'd call you sugar, if that makes sense.

𝕃𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

I know, we have the ongoing joke of Lester smelling bad, but I've changed my mind.

Of course, after working, he smells very bad. Like a dead animal that has been cooking in the sun for way too long.

But he's a clean boy! After he takes a shower, he smells like a mix of leather and something flowery, airy. Kind of like a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. Don't ask me where that comes from.

When he's been crafting something, he also smells like hot glue and wood, but it's not powerful enough to be unpleasant.

𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕙𝕞𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕖

Dust.

Like, you know when something smells old because it's been standing somewhere without being touched for too long?

That's what he smells like.

He doesn't need to, though. He probably has an arsenal of really expensive perfumes and colognes standing somewhere in that mansion.

After he meets you, there's a slight chance that he'll take more care of himself. And in that case, he will finally use those fragrances.

As soon as he does that, he smells like that mansion looks. Rich, educated, charming, handsome even.

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥

Hay, dry earth, Tommy smells like a hot day on a field.

When he spent some more time in the basement, the smell becomes even earthier and damp. Like a crypt.

Though, most days the 'warm' smell is stronger and it's really wholesome. When you hug him, it feels like you're hugging a cat who's been lounging in the sun for a while and got all heated up. (I just want to hug him, man.)

𝕆𝕥𝕚𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕

Now, that man smells bad.

Rotting corpses, vomit kind of bad. It's not good.

When he does his makeup and actually showers, it's not that bad anymore. Then, he just smells like the makeup he applies (you know, the stuff they paint children's faces with?) and (probably Baby's) body wash.

𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Baby loves sweet perfumes, especially when they have a fruity note (pun intended).

She has a few fragrances she always uses, and they make her smell really nice, and really sweet, kind of like candy.

If she doesn't apply those, she smells like lotion and body oil.

Pretty, that's what she smells like.

ℝ𝕁 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Motor oil, leather and rain.

Motor oil from working on the trucks all day long, leather from his jackets. Where does the smell of rain come from? Don't ask me.

He smells really masculine in that sense, like a ride on a motorcycle.

𝕁𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕍𝕠𝕠𝕣𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤

Do corpses emit smell if they're still alive?

Well, Jason does.

He smells like wet earth, rain, and the forest. A really grounding smell overall.

Hugging him feels like laying on the forest ground after it has been raining for a while. In a nice way, though.

It's really refreshing, and really pleasant.

𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘

Amanda uses really nice body wash. Something that smells like pine needles.

Other than that, she smells like old metal and disinfectant.

Old metal, because she spends half of her days designing traps and disinfectant because of John.

634 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 8 months

Text

just you

pairing: itadori yuji x gn!reader

genre + warnings: - FLUFF !!

word count: 856

summary: so, this a song fic, inspired by the song, "nothing" by bruno major. listen while reading this for the full experience!

enjoyyy <3

“Long day today, huh?”

You open your door as you enter, followed by your pink-haired boyfriend. Opening your shoes and leaving them by the door you fall back on your cloud-like bed, hearing a sigh and feeling a familiar weight fall next to you.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Yuji stretches his arms and pulls you closer to his side. You turn your body and breathe in his scent, resting an arm over his abdomen. Feeling his hand stroke your hair, you feel the stress of the day's rigorous training melt off of you like the rain washing away the dust off leaves.

“So, what do you wanna do?” He asks as his hand stops its movements, causing you to whine and nudge his chest with your chin, urging him to continue. He chuckles and continues stroking your crown.

“I dunno… We can play Mario Kart?” You tangle your legs with his and feel the sweet embrace of an incoming sleep clouding your senses.

Yuji groans half-playfully, half-seriously, “Please, I can't deal with getting my ass beat right now.”

You let out a giggle and hug him a bit tighter, “You’re not that bad.”

You feel his smile against your forehead as he leaves a feather-light kiss, “I am, but it’s fine.”

Exhaling, you hum, “Well, we can watch a movie?”

Yuji hums as he untangles his legs from yours and retracts his hand from your hair, proceeding to stand up to shed his uniform jacket. You lean up on your forearms and watch him carry your laptop back to bed. As he opens it and turns on the power, you get up off the bed to finally change your clothes and wear something more comfortable and loose. You open your designated 'Yuji' drawer, full of clothes you'd previously stolen from him, and fling a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants toward your distracted boyfriend.

“Hey, I've been looking everywhere for these!”

You get up on the bed and sit next to him, lifting his arm and bringing it around your shoulder, “Everywhere but here weirdly.” You look at him and grin as he narrows his eyes at you, albeit playfully.

“How many of my clothes do you have here?”

You shrug, “So what movie do you wanna watch?”

Yuji looks at you with deadpan eyes as you try to hold back your smile, “Oh, really? So I can choose this time?”

You gasp dramatically, “You always get to choose.”

At that, he barks a laugh, “Yeah sure.” He removes his arm from its permanent spot around your shoulder to type in the name of the movie. He sets the laptop down on the center of the bed and moves back to lean against you, resting his arm back over your shoulder.

You can't control the smile that overtakes your features as you watch “The Notebook” play for the billionth time. Squishing his cheeks you give him a loud kiss on his jaw, “You love this movie, babe. Don't lie.”

Yuji pulls you to his chest and breathes in your scent as his hand returns to your hair and you know he’s smiling from the sound of his voice, “No I don't. It’s stupid.”

Life was unpredictable for you both. There was a lot of death, a lot of pain, suffering, and very little time to step back and just live. So, falling in love was the last thing on Yuji’s mind; with Sukuna constantly chattering about and destroying his mental peace, Yuji had no time to think about anything other than simply surviving and getting through the day, to see the sunrise. Then, he fell in love with you, and somehow, the noises in his head seemed to dim down. They were still there, of course, Sukuna made sure to never give Yuji a moment’s rest, yet all he could ever think about was you. Thoughts of you flooded his mind from day to night; whether you were safe, how your mission went, how he’d like to bring you to the new cafe he discovered with Nobara and Megumi, how your eyes would light up seeing the little bouquet he’d made for you full of wildflowers he'd collected, how your cheeks would turn red when he’d give you a sly kiss on the nape of your neck when Gojo-sensei wasn’t looking, how you’d sing whatever song is in your mind and do a little shoulder dance to accompany it. When he’s fighting curses, he thinks of how quickly he can kill the curse so he can rush back home to find you and lay around doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. You saved him from sinking into the depths of his mind. Saved him from being dragged down by the claws of the king of curses and the expectations of the world. With you, he’s just Yuji. With you, doing nothing is a luxury.

A soft poke to his cheek snaps him back to reality, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

He sighs and gazes down at you, smiling and leaning down to gently kiss the little pout on your curious face.

“Nothing.”

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

a/n: i had to write smth for the greenest flag the world has ever seen <3 also, this is my first official attempt at writing a song fic so if you liked it and wanna see more, feel free to hmu in the asks or messages!

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

#itadori yuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x you #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk itadori #jjk fluff #jjk imagine #yuuji itadori #itadori fluff #itadori yuji x you #jjk drabble

131 notes · View notes

lokidokieokie · 1 year

Text

The Calm After the Storm

Summary: After a grueling mission, Bucky and Y/n find solace and strength in each other's love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warning(s): fluffy fluff, mentions of a tough mission, lovey dovey things, Bucky Barnes ('cause he's just a warning himself), lemme know if I missed anything

The sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the tranquil lake as Bucky and Y/n sat side by side on a weathered wooden dock. The air was filled with a gentle breeze, carrying the scent of fresh pine trees and wildflowers. It was a moment of respite after a tumultuous mission, and the both of them relished in the tranquility that surrounded them.

Bucky turned his head to steal a glance at her. The fading light illuminated her face, highlighting the subtle freckles that dusted her cheeks and the soft curve of her lips. The remnants of worry and exhaustion were etched on her features, but they were slowly fading away, replaced by a sense of calm. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle yet filled with genuine concern.

She turned to face him, their eyes meeting. She offered a small smile in return, her fingers tracing circles on the dock's worn wood. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just glad we made it back in one piece."

Bucky's metal arm brushed against her own, a silent show of solidarity. "You were amazing out there, you know. I don't know what I would've done without you by my side."

A blush crept onto her cheeks as she averted her gaze, the praise making her heart flutter. "You weren't so bad yourself, Sergeant Barnes. As always, you kicked some serious butt."

Bucky chuckled, the sound melodic and warm. "Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?"

The two fell into a comfortable silence, their shoulders touching as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. The vibrant colours of dusk reflected on the water, casting an ethereal glow that seemed to mirror the connection between Bucky and Y/n. They had been through countless battles together, their shared experiences forging an unbreakable bond.

Her fingers intertwined with Bucky's, their hands fitting together perfectly like the missing pieces of a puzzle. Bucky's touch sent a wave of reassurance and comfort through her, erasing any lingering traces of fear. It was a silent understanding, a language spoken between them without words.

"You know," she began softly, her voice laced with vulnerability, "I don't think I could've come this far without you. You've been my anchor, James."

Bucky squeezed her hand gently, his voice filled with unwavering sincerity. "And you've been mine, Y/n. You've shown me that there's still goodness left in this world, even after everything I've done."

Their gazes met once more, the depth of their feelings mirrored in their eyes. Time seemed to stand still as they leaned in, their lips brushing against each other's in a tender kiss. It was a silent promise, a shared understanding of the love and support they found in one another.

As they pulled apart, Bucky rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "We'll always have each other's backs, no matter what comes our way. I'll protect you, Y/n. Always."

A tear slipped down Ella's cheek, but it held no sadness. It was a tear of gratitude, of immense love for the man before her. "And I'll stand by your side, Bucky. Through thick and thin."

In that moment, as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, Bucky and Y/n found solace in each other's arms. The echoes of their past faded away, replaced by the promise of a brighter future. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, drawing strength from their unwavering love and unbreakable bond.

As the stars twinkled in the night sky, the lake embraced their shared silence, forever holding their secret love story beneath its gentle ripples.

A/N ahhh, I just love those two with a passion!

I would also like to apologise for not updating any stories in a while...I've been focusing on my Uni work (shocking, I know); and I've finally just found out where I'm being placed for my teaching practical 😳

New chapters of all my series (both normal and mini) should be coming out soon :)

tagging the usual, please lemme know if you'd like to be removed or added to the taglist :)

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad

#bucky barnes #james “bucky” barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #fluffy mcfluff #avenger!reader #avenger!fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

191 notes · View notes

ravennaortiz · 2 months

Text

Companion piece can be found here.

Summary: Gilly has always known you were the one. Even when he pushed you away. For years he tortured himself until one day you came back home to Santo Padre to stay. As always 18+, general themes of the show.

Word Count: 1.6K

"So you gonna get the balls to ask her out or what?" inquired Coco as he slid into the chair next to Gilly who had been watching you play pool with Angel. Gilly sighed as he took a drink of his beer. "I don't know that I deserve her man. Not after how I ended things" he replied remorsefully. "I mean she seems like the forgiving type. Boy Scout and Angel broke that Snowman thing her mama got her and she forgave them. Not like you beat the shit out of her or something heinous" shrugged Coco as he fixed his gaze on his best friend.

Gilly pondered the events of the last few weeks. Coco had a fair point about your forgiving nature. Though he still couldn't look back on that fateful day he had up ended both your lives and not feel like an ogre. "You spent over three grand on a snowman. Don't act like she's not special. We all see it man. Forgive yourself for being an idiot and then get your girl" Coco stated firmly before casting a look over to where you and Angel were laughing. "If you don't make your move soon. One of us will have too" he added with a grin. "None of you are man enough for her" snapped Gilly his eyes flashing with anger at the idea of one of his brothers putting moves on you.

"Simmer down" muttered Coco as he laughed at how easily Gilly had been riled. "Seriously though. We all like her man. She fits in well. Like she's always been around. Gilly rolled his eyes "You just like the free food Coco". Coco shrugged before standing up. "What can I say I'm a simple man. Gilly laughed loudly "Simple is right".

The next morning Gilly woke up with you on his mind. Which wasn't unusual but this time he could feel your presence like you were next to him in his bed. He rolled over breathing deeply into the pillow and could almost make out your scent. The conversation last night with Coco had only spurred his feelings on. He knew he needed to tell you he still had feelings for you. That he had never stopped but he was unsure if you would be accepting. Had too much time passed for him to make amends? Yes you had let him back into your life but he could still feel a wall between the two of you that he wasn't sure he could break through. He got dressed quickly knowing he needed to make a couple stops before he went over to your house.

***

Gilly kneeled down in front of the headstone and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dusted it off. He then put the wildflower bouquet into the vase next to it before taking a deep breath. He was more nervous then he expected given that he had been doing this routine every week for several months and speaking to the dead wasn't unusual for him.

"Morning Mama Kay" he uttered as he cleared his throat. "Your little girl is still doing fine, I know you know that" he chuckled to himself. "She sure misses ya a lot. I do too. You always saw the good in me and were the only adult who gave a damn about me. You gave me a sanctuary from war zone I was born into. I hope you know how thankful I was growing up." A burst of wind pushed at him out of no where. "Alright, alright no need to shove" Gilly mumbled as he put his hands up in defeat.

"I guess what I came here to say is I am gonna finally ask her to give me a second chance. I know I don't deserve one and honestly she is still too good for me. I know my lifestyle is.....dangerous but I promise you I would never let anything happen to her." Gilly paused as he collected his thoughts trying to stop the rambling. He could hear Mama Kay's voice telling him to get to the point. Gilly took a deep breath then turned his face up to the sky. " I'm ready to be the man she needs and I just want to know if that is okay with you?" blurted Gilly as he bowed his head and closed his eyes. Several minutes passed before he felt a gentle warmth brush his cheek. "Thank you Mama Kay" he whispered before kissing the headstone and getting up to head back to his bike.

***

Gilly sat waiting for your answer. You nodded and looked down at your mug of tea as you considered what Gilly had told you. The difference of this conversation versus the one that gutted you was not lost on you. He had laid all his cards on the table. He could only hope you had forgiven him for being a dumb kid all those years ago when he had broken up with you hours before getting on a plane for his first deployment. He had been in love with you since that first crooked smile you had flashed his way in eight grade. By your freshmen year the two of you were a couple and glued to each others sides through high school and your first two years of college.

He did his best to tell you he was not the right man for you and never would be. That he could never provide you the life you wanted and deserved. He remembered almost giving in when you dropped to your knees into the dirt and gravel latching onto his pant leg as you pleaded with him. You told him how much he meant to you and that you loved him and wanted only him forever. You denied his words that he wasn't enough or good enough for your love. The tears poured down your face and the urge to wipe them away was overwhelming. He choked back his own sob as he pried you off him and picked you up.

Squeezing your arms just enough to quiet your sobs he drove the final nail home. "Tell me why you can't get it through your head I don't want you any more" he had asked you. He watched every emotion play across your face before you quietly asked "Why? Why are you being so cruel?" He never gave you an answer he just simply let you go and turned his back on you. Your sobs echoed in his head every night as he recalled getting in his car and driving away.

You didn't know this but he only got a half mile down the road before he was sobbing himself. He was only going to stay in the military for so long but each time he set foot on U.S soil his actions hit him like a ton of bricks all over again. He could only blame himself for his loneliness. Which is why he had reached out to Mama Kay. Wanting to feel a connection back home but also wanting to see how you were doing. He had been pleased to get a letter back that was full of warmth, love and a photo of the two of you.

Reaching across the table you took his hand in yours and swallowed hard. If this was going to work you were going to have to tell him a secret that you had harbored all these years. That you had banned your mother from telling him as well once you realized they had reconnected. Gilly watched you closely and held his breath as he watched two tears trail down your cheeks. "I never stopped loving you Gilly. You were always the one for me too. I want to try again too" you started as he smiled happily at you.

"I need to tell you something though first". You were getting ready to hurt him and you hated yourself for it. "I was pregnant." you whispered as you looked down at the table unable to see the pain crush the bear of a man in front of you. Gilly felt like a train had ran him over as his brain rushed to understand. The implication of your words hit him. Not only had he left you while you were in a vulnerable state but something had happened as well. Gilly blinked back tears. Monsters don't get to grieve he thought to himself.

You tensed as you heard Gilly get up from his chair and your heart dropped. You were losing him again. Sobs wracked your body as you felt the pain of both losses all over again. "Shhhh. Its okay" murmured Gilly as he knelt next to you grabbing your hands in his. "I'm not going anywhere. Right here is where I want to be" he added as you cried into his shoulder.

After a few moments you had calmed down some. Gilly carefully used his thumb to brush the lingering tears from your face. "May I ask what happened?' he asked quietly as he met your eyes. You simply nodded as your heart clenched and your stomach rolled at the memory. "I was depressed, scared and angry. The pregnancy was so extremely difficult and we were high risk on top of everything. I was bedridden for most of it in the hopes not working and such would help with the stress and symptoms.

I went into labor too early still, ended up going into cardiac arrest and she didn't make it. She was a tiny little thing and she fought like hell to live but...." you stated just shaking your head as the memories played in your mind. The whirring of machines, panic stricken faces, yelling nurses and doctors as they tried to save both of you. Then the darkness came as you started to fade away. The next thing you remember was waking up to your Mama praying over you as she squeezed your hands.

"I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything and it won't fix what happened or fix the pain" stated Gilly as he caressed your cheek gently. "This news doesn't change how I feel about you though. I hope you know that". "I will always regret what I did and that I wasn't here for you.

You closed your eyes as you leaned into the tender caresses letting his words wash over you. "I've felt like a failure for so long Gilly. Couldn't keep my man, couldn't be pregnant correctly, couldn't keep my baby alive. I felt like I was never suppose to know love, kindness or grace. Mama always told me I was wrong. She always talked highly of you." you murmured as you thought back onto some of your moms last words.

"Gilly was a scared boy who made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Its how you fix a mistake that matters.

"Your mama was something special. Just like you" replied Gilly as he smiled before leaning forward and gently placing a kiss on your lips. "Let me love you and cherish until death knocks for us" he whispered as he pulled back slightly. "I love you" you murmured before meeting his lips again.

***

Kneeling down at the tiny bear shaped tombstone you gently cleaned away the dirt and weeds as your hands shook slightly. "Sofia, my sweet angel. I want you to finally meet your daddy" you murmured as you looked up at Gilly who had tears in his eyes. "Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me the most." stated Gilly as he moved to his knees and laid a bouquet of flowers down before kissing the tombstone.

#ravennasmasterlist #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #gilly lopez imagine #gilly lopez x reader #gilly lopez #mayans gilly #gilly x reader #gilly lopez mayans #mayans fanfiction #mayans fanfic

33 notes · View notes

palladiumfragments · 5 months

Text

haven in the hollow

ethereal and spellbound, the song blooms golden fairy dust springs out, spirals, soars sweeping away all that belongs to the sublunary slowly the walls fade away, shimmering as they go. now pulled into a realm of ineffable beauty of rolling hills and lush valleys filled with delicate mist and mossy stones. an endless stretch of fragrant green speckled with wildflowers here and there of majestic cliffs eternally reaching for the stars scintillating faintly in the firmament of castle ruins crowned with gulls flying in echelon white as the surf-worn shore below. the song crescendos, gossamer dress billowing in the wind, running toward a forest of pines where perpetual twilight reigns. the scene shifts, sunlight falling through cedars strikes upon a spinning figure with soulful eyes barefoot, arms stretched out like wings face ablazed with unbridled euphoria. the ending unfolds, flying over a gleaming fjord kissed by a sweet-scented wind beneath a peach-pink sky lulled by the haunting, unceasing murmur of the brine, promising to pull me back.

#poetry #spilled ink #writerscreed #poemsbyme #nature #smittenbypoetry #bitsofstarglow #writeblrcafe #poeticstories #musings #excerpt from a book i'll never write

50 notes · View notes

sneezysubbyboi · 1 year

Text

Horny for sneezes caused by unexpected disasters/accidents

Like the classic dropping a big bag a flour on the table a bit too harshly

Or the pepper shaker cap snapping open from a shake too hard, the overwhelming scent of spices filling the air as soon as it all spills out

Or the vacuum cleaner being at its limit and suddenly bursting open with a horrible cloud of dust

Or walking through a field before falling face-first into a patch of wildflowers you’re deathly allergic to, the pollen flying everywhere

Just love these snzarios where the person is immediately thrown into their triggers at their worst, and have no time to react to it.. their nose flying into a sneezy fury within a few seconds with little regard to who’s around to witness~

#I think these happened a LOT in cartoons and i’ve grown attached to these scenarios #snzblr #snz #snz kink #sneeze kink #snzfucker

180 notes · View notes

mxnsterbabe · 10 months

Text

Male Ghost/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,611 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist Tags & Warnings: mentions of death, fires

You've always loved abandoned places, and photographing them. When you find a strange young man in all of your photos, you’re determined to find out what's going on.

You’ve always loved taking photos. One of your very first birthday presents as a kid was an old-fashioned camera, and you’ve been obsessed ever since.

The old college was the object of your affection today. Its weathered bricks and rusted iron gates hinted at a past full of memories. Its story was a tragic one, marred by a devastating fire, and you were there to capture it.

As you stepped onto the moss-covered path leading to the college, you were wrapped in an almost tangible silence. You could hear the distant rustling of the wind, punctuated by a crow's call. The college stood tall, basking in the morning light that highlighted its aged beauty.

You aimed your camera at the entrance, a mix of harsh angles and soft shadows. The shutter clicked, and you felt a surge of satisfaction, having captured a fragment of history. You stepped inside, where scents of dampness, old books, and lingering darkroom chemicals mixed, and found your way to the photography room.

The remnants of burnt photos clung to the walls there, making the room feel like a tribute to the past. You noticed one photo in particular, a young lad's face frozen in time. The thought of his untimely death tugged at your heart. It seemed unfair that the school closed its doors after his loss, but now, through your lens, you would keep his memory alive.

You roamed the empty college, nature claiming it piece by piece. Ivy crept up the walls, dorms sat empty and quiet, and everywhere, there was an odd sense of stillness. Despite the eerie tranquillity, you couldn't help but admire the beauty in the decay.

Climbing a worn-out staircase, you reached the second floor, where the footprints of nature were even more pronounced. Sunlight filtered through cracked windows, casting an ethereal glow on the wildflowers sprouting from the tiled floor.

As dusk started to fall, you came upon a door down the corridor. Intrigue pulled you toward it, but as you stepped closer, a sudden flutter of wings sent your heart racing. Birds had made a home in the room, and their sudden departure left you startled.

With your heart still pounding, you glanced at the now empty room in the dim light. You couldn't help but wonder what other secrets the college held. Little did you know, one secret was already closely observing you. A presence, unseen yet deeply interested in your exploration.

With your heart still pounding from the sudden flutter of wings, you regained your composure and brought your camera back to focus. The room, now void of its avian inhabitants, offered a serene spectacle of fading sunlight dancing with the floating dust. You snapped a picture, preserving the scene of tranquil stillness.

Next, you knelt to capture the wildflowers that were stubbornly sprouting through the rotting wooden floor. These little bursts of colour, defiant in their surroundings, told a silent tale of life's relentless persistence. Their delicate beauty, juxtaposed against the stark decay, made for an enchanting sight.

As the sun began its descent, it cast a golden glow over the room. The college, bathed in the soft twilight, seemed ethereal, almost out of a dream. You took a few more photos, captivated by the contrast between the old and the new, the quiet stories etched into every brick and tile.

With the day slowly turning into night, you decided it was time to review your work. Finding an old, yet sturdy-looking chair, you sat down and started scrolling through the images on your camera.

Each photo seemed to narrate a different chapter of the college's past. The morning sun kissing the ivy on the entrance, the silence echoing in the empty dorm rooms, the charred photographs telling a tale of lost innocence, the resilient wildflowers adding their vibrant notes. All of it together painted a picture of the college’s past, its abandonment and its resilient beauty.

However, as you were perusing through your captures, something caught your eye. A vague outline of a figure, a young man, was visible in almost all the photos. It was faint, almost translucent, but undeniably present.

A moment of confusion swept over you. Could it have been a trespasser? The very thought seemed ridiculous. You were alone in the college, weren’t you? The deafening silence, the solitude, everything had felt so real.

Then, a sudden realisation dawned upon you. The outline, the posture, the boyish presence, it reminded you of the photograph you’d seen in the darkroom. The boy who had died in the fire. Could it really be him? A shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

The silence around you became suffocating. The seemingly peaceful abandoned college no longer felt serene, not with the ghost of its past haunting your photographs. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and fascination warring within you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as a gust of wind rattled the broken window pane, snapping you out of your reverie. Setting your camera aside, you made your way to the window, the ancient floorboards creaking under your weight. Looking outside, you found the once tranquil courtyard now caught in a whirling dance with the wind. The ivy leaves fluttered wildly against the stone walls and the dust rose in flurrying swirls from the worn-out pathways.

Then, in the midst of this whirlwind, you saw him. There, standing in the open courtyard, was the shadowy figure of the boy. This time he was not a vague silhouette in the corner of a photograph, but a nearly solid figure beneath the dimming light. He was distant yet distinct, ethereal yet so vividly present.

His form seemed to flicker, wavering between the lines of reality and illusion. One moment he appeared as solid as you and the next, he was but a wisp of smoke dissolving into the wind. Yet, during those brief instances of solidity, he seemed to be looking up at you. His gaze held a trace of melancholy that chilled your spine.

His figure stood in stark contrast to the bustling courtyard, a still presence amidst the chaos. His somber silhouette, coupled with the unruly dance of the wind, lent the scene an eerie, almost surreal quality.

And then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving only the wind howling in his wake. The courtyard was once again just an abandoned remnant of the college’s past, the spectral figure a fleeting memory.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The image of the ghostly figure, so vivid and yet so evanescent, was etched in your mind. The sorrow in his gaze haunted you, triggering a mix of fear and an unexpected sympathy.

Staring at the empty courtyard, you vowed to yourself that you would return. You needed to uncover the truth, to understand the story of the boy trapped between the realms of the living and the dead. The once simple photography project had turned into a quest that you were determined to see through.

***

Three days passed since your eerie encounter, and each day found you back at the abandoned college. Your camera was a constant companion, capturing scenes of nature's relentless reclamation and the college’s poignant decay. Yet, nothing out of the ordinary appeared in your photos. The spectral figure of the young man remained absent, and you found no traces of the hauntingly sad gaze you had seen.

Every click of the shutter echoed your growing disappointment. Had you imagined it all? Was the specter merely a figment of your overactive imagination, or somebody else who had snuck onto the grounds? It was hard to shake off the idea, especially when the only evidence you had were the inexplicable photographs from your first visit. They still showed the almost transparent figure of the young man, each one a silent testament to the uncanny experience you couldn't forget.

On the fourth day, you found yourself heading back to the college. It had become more of a habit, a daily routine. The excitement that had driven you before was replaced by a heavy sense of scepticism. You no longer expected to see the ghostly figure again.

You walked through the college grounds, capturing photos with a mechanical detachment. The courtyard, once the stage for the spectral apparition, was just a patch of worn-out grass and dancing shadows. You snapped a photo out of habit, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

When you glanced down to review the photograph, your heart skipped a beat. There, in the photograph of the courtyard, was the familiar silhouette. The spectral figure had returned, as faint and elusive as before. This time, however, there was an undeniable presence about him. He seemed less like a trick of light and more like a lost soul, still bound to the world he had left two decades ago.

Standing in the middle of the empty courtyard, you took a deep breath and called out. Your voice echoed off the crumbling walls of the college, the words carried away by the gentle breeze. It was a desperate plea, an attempt to convince yourself that the ghostly figure was not a figment of your imagination. Perhaps, you reasoned, it was just an intruder, someone like you who was trespassing in the abandoned building.

But as you stared at the empty courtyard, you knew you didn't truly believe that. There was a part of you that yearned for the figure to be the ghostly apparition, the tragic spirit of the college's past.

Minutes ticked by and your call was met with only silence. A sinking feeling started to gnaw at you, the feeling of disappointment tinged with relief. Just as you were about to accept the empty echoes as your answer, a figure materialised at the far end of the courtyard.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you recognised him. The spectral figure, the ghostly boy, was standing there, in broad daylight. Your heart pounded in your chest, its rhythmic thump amplifying the silence around you.

Despite his ethereal appearance, he seemed so normal. He was a young man, his dark, fluffy blonde hair tousled by the wind. His boyish face held an expression of wistful longing. But his figure, so clear one moment, would flicker the next, waver and ripple like an image on a static-ridden television screen. His ghostly form was an eerie reminder of the tragic past that tied him to the college, even in death.

A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. Your camera dangled from your neck, forgotten for the moment. You were seeing him, really seeing him for the first time. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as the reality of the situation settled in.

With a shaky breath, you stepped forward, your voice echoing in the eerie silence of the courtyard. "Who are you?" you called out, your question hanging in the air. He stood there, silent and still, his form flickering like an old film reel. His face held an expression of yearning, but he made no attempt to answer.

Undeterred, you continued, your voice growing bolder. "Why are you here? Why are you showing yourself to me?" The questions poured out, filling the emptiness of the courtyard, but the ghostly figure remained silent. His only response was an increasingly pained expression, a look of pure frustration. It was as though he wanted to answer but couldn't.

You watched him, a figure both present and absent, flickering between existence and oblivion. The sadness etched on his face resonated with you. It didn't seem like he was choosing not to respond. It was as if he couldn't. An unnerving thought dawned upon you. "Can you not speak?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

His figure flickered rapidly at your question, his form dissolving into a ripple of static before reassembling again. His gaze bore into yours, eyes filled with a profound sorrow. You felt a pang of empathy. Here was a spirit, forever trapped in the shell of his past, unable to communicate his story.

Your heart ached at the one-sided conversation. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In every ghost story you had ever heard, the spirit had a voice, a way to convey its message. This ghost, this young man trapped in his spectral form, seemed devoid of that privilege.

Emboldened by your resolve, you reached out towards him. To your surprise, he didn't recede but moved closer. His presence felt like a chill wind, tangible yet incorporeal. The odd paradox made you shudder, but your curiosity was stronger than your fear.

You took a moment to study him, really take in his appearance. His boyish face was marked by an ethereal beauty, his skin oddly perfect. His dark, fluffy blonde hair was tousled by an unseen wind, giving him a somewhat carefree air that was at odds with the tragic circumstances of his existence. His eyes, however, held sadness. They were a pale blue that held your gaze, their depth revealing a hint of the life he once had, the life that was snatched away so abruptly.

Suddenly, his hand raised, fingers outstretched towards you. It was a ghostly hand, the skin translucent, shimmering in an almost ethereal light. He pointed towards your jacket pocket, his gaze following his gesture.

Puzzled, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the old photograph you had found. The one of the courtyard, where he first appeared to you. You were about to turn it around when something caught your eye. The back of the photograph held a faint inscription that you hadn't noticed before.

Theodore.

The name hit you like a wave, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise. "Theodore?" You questioned, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

His form flickered for a moment before steadying, his gaze meeting yours. He nodded, and you found your answer.

In a leap of faith, you reached out to touch his extended hand. You half expected your fingers to pass through him, to feel the cold air instead of skin. To your surprise, your hand met his. For a brief moment, he was solid, as real as anyone alive.

His expression reflected your shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then, something wonderful happened. His eyes softened, a glimmer of joy dancing in their depths. The loneliness that had previously clung to him seemed to lift for that moment, replaced by a sense of relief. It made you wonder, how long had he been alone? How long since he'd felt any form of contact?

You held his hand, feeling an odd sense of warmth seep into your fingers. It was strange, touching a ghost, his skin warm but not quite real.

The moment was fleeting. His form began to waver, his hand growing translucent under your touch. His solidity was fading, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

In those precious few seconds before he disappeared completely, you did something impulsive. You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. His form flickered at the contact, a silent gasp escaping him. He looked at you, surprise etched on his face. Before he could respond, you whispered a promise to him, your words carried by the wind, "I'll visit again, Theodore."

With that, he disappeared, his form dissolving into thin air, leaving only the echo of your promise and the memory of his presence. As you stood there in the empty courtyard, the weight of his touch still lingering on your skin, you knew that your promise was not an empty one.

#exophilia #exophilia fiction #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: ghost

105 notes · View notes

her-stars · 10 months

Text

The woman who wears the moon as her crown 🌙🌠

she twirls like a galaxy slow-spinning through my night sky. Cheeks blushing July sunsets. casting spells with her eyes. kissing me, beneath the milky twilight. she smelled of lavender with skin of pearls. To love her eternally, like the sun does the moon, always lifting her up with light. just with her touch it was electric. I am wildly dreaming of escape painting a portrait of the life of her and I. her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high. my darling my flower, I'll never let you wither. wind stirring the scent of wildflowers, summer nights feel like velvet on my skin. silvery threads of moonlight tangled in my hair shimmered like pixie dust. she kissed goodbye with a bite like a luscious peach and it felt so sweet. I'll see her again in dreams spinning in my night sky.

#lesbian #wlw blog #sapphic poem #wlw writing #queer #lgbtq #sapphic yearning #wlw textpost #wlw poetry #girlswholikegirls #pansexual #wlw post #bisexual #sapphic

70 notes · View notes

randooffthestreet99 · 9 months

Text

So, this is the fic I was talking about the other day. It can be x reader, or x oc, it doesn't matter. It also includes bad sans poly, so be warned.

"-----, Come on!" The young girl in the white dress laughed, her skirts billowing in the wind. He laughed as well, chasing after her, his lover.

He finally caught up to her, tackling her, and they rolled down the grassy hill, falling into the field of wildflowers. They lay there, giggling and smiling at each other. He took her hand into his own, grinning. "I love you."

She beamed at him, scooting closer. "I love you too, -----." They lay there together, watching the fluffy clouds in the summer haze. Suddenly, the sky grew dark, and she sat up.

"We need to go." He sat up too. "Yeah, looks like it's going to rain." The air was growing thick and heavy, like tar.

She appeared frightened as she looked into the distance, before looking back at him, gripping his hands. "No, you need to leave. You can't be here."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?" She squeezed his hands reassuringly. "Go. I'll be okay." His eyebrows furrowed. "Why can't you come with me?" She gave him a sad smile before leaning in and whispering in a much deeper voice.

"Nightmare. Wake up."

He sat up in his bed, gasping for air. Where...where was she? There was a gentle hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. "Deep breaths, Mare....deep breaths...." His lover?

He finally regained his senses, taking in his surroundings. The familiar large bed, the dark silken sheets, the heavy tendrils on his back. This was home now. Had been for hundreds of years. He turned around to face his lover, who had come to wake him up.

"Are you alright, Nightmare?" It was Dust, worry shining in his eyelights. "Normally it's us having bad dreams, not you." Nightmare sighed softly. "Quite alright, thank you." He stood up. "Has Horror made our breakfast?"

Dust nodded. "Yeah. H sent me up to get you." Nightmare hummed and walked to his closet, pulling out his nicer suit, and Dust raised an eyebrow. "That time of year?" He let out a soft breath, changing into it. "Yes."

They went downstairs, joining the others at the dining table. Their other three lovers made note of Nightmare’s outfit, but didn't say anything. Nightmare quickly finished his meal, putting away his plate and kissing Horror's head.

"Breakfast was lovely. Thank you." Horror smiled warmly at him. " 'f course, Boss." Killer pouted. "What, no kiss for the rest of us?" Nightmare chuckled fondly, walking over and pressing his teeth to Killer's head as well. Killer grinned up at him. "Aw, now Crossy and Dustbin are missing out."

Nightmare sighed and quickly pecked the other two on the cheek. "Better?" Killer nodded, looking smug. He began to walk away, but Cross stopped him. "Tell her we say hi and to come visit?"

Nightmare smiled affectionately at him. "Of course." He opened a portal to Outertale.

He walked into Waterfall's caverns, picking the more beautiful echo flowers. He knew she would like them, and their star adorned petals. Only the best for her. He opened the next portal, unstable and glitchy as it was.

He stepped in, inhaling the familiar scent of tress long gone and slightly burnt apple pie. He wandered to the hill he'd spent most of his childhood on, and sat down in front of the stump of his mother.

He lay the flowers at the girl's feet, her beauty timeless, encased in stone.

"I thought you'd like these. You always loved the stars, the nighttime. Saw beauty in the darker things, in me." He laughed, sounding sad.

"The others can't wait to meet you. I'm sure you'll adore them..." He hung his head. "I cannot wait for you to be by my side, my queen. I...I miss you." He sighed shakily.

"Does Dream still visit? I hope he does, you two were great friends. Perhaps he'll come after I leave. I had a dream about you, love. Was that you? Perhaps... I do apologize for not visiting last year. I was incapacitated." He chuckled.

"Can I stay here with you, darling? Just...for a while?" He shut his eyes, leaning against the tree stump. "Thank you...

You were always too kind to me."

#bad sanses #bad sanses x reader #nightmare sans #passive nightmare sans #nightmare x reader #nightmare sans x reader #cross sans #killer sans #baby's first fic #oneshot #sans x reader #sans x oc #dust sans #horror sans #outertale echo flowers

67 notes · View notes

delopsia · 1 year

Text

Wildflowers | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,400 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Mildly dubious consent, ✨sex pollen✨, overstimulation, unprotected sex, dominant AND submissive Rhett, with a side of Rhett crying during sex :))

Rhett wasn't lying when he said that a mysterious patch of wildflowers had sprouted in the west pasture.

Vibrant patches of yellow, red, blue, and purple gathered up in a perfect circle. Royal says it's probably an invasive flower that's blown over from the Tillerson land, but you don't think you've ever seen a flower naturally grow so...neatly before. It's far too meticulous to be seeds that have blown over.

A handful of them sits inside a dainty vase on the windowsill. One of each variant, because you'd commented on how pretty they were but never specified your favorite, and Rhett couldn't miss his opportunity to bring them when he came to fetch the chaps he forgot here.

"I'm gonna be out there for half of my life pulling those sons of bitches," he'd said as he placed them into your vase, "couldn't cut them to save my life."

They look like just any other flower, but they've all got inky black centers that turn to dust under your touch. Strangest of all, they don't have a scent, not a singular floral note to be found. Rhett says they smell like cinnamon, but even now, as you dip your nose into them, you're getting absolutely nothing.

A faint buzz in the sink startles you from your daze.

Ah, right.

You're in the middle of cleaning your small collection of bedroom toys, and you've accidentally turned on the small toy, vibrating angrily beneath the soapy water. This one has always been sensitive; you're pretty sure it's the same one that buzzed halfway across the floor this morning when Rhett accidentally knocked their storage box over in his rush to get to work.

You would be more irked about this if you didn't already have it planned to do a deep clean. Some of these need to find their way out of your collection as it is. One of these vibrators doesn't charge anymore; your little size queen fusses about how this specific pink strap is too small, so there's no need for it hanging around either, you suppose.

Then, of course, there are the half-dozen bullet vibes. Tiny little things, all but one, are the same brand, and they're all different colors. This silver one started out as your personal one, but then, of course, Rhett came along, and with him came a hell of a lot of ventures that the old thing can't keep up with.

He got you this red one as a cheeky surprise one day, but it rolled off and went missing, so you moved on to a black one. That one grew legs and walked away. So then came the pink, white, and finally, a neon yellow that can be seen from a mile away.

Rhett found the red under his bed the other day. The black one was under your dresser, the pink one was in Rhett's old jacket that he hasn't worn since last winter, and the white was simply in his truck.

They all work just fine, but do you really need six of these? Oh, but what if they wander off again...

Shit, there goes that toy again.

Setting the properly washed silicone atop a towel with its buddies, you reach for the last thing you've got to clean.

A simple black plug.

It's Rhett's favorite, curved to press ever so delicately against his prostate and thick enough to shut him up, even on his brattiest of days. Who would have ever thought that Rhett could become so comfortable in this sort of thing? Certainly not you, that's for sure.

A remote sits off to the side, kept close, so you don't lose it again.

Just outside your window, Rhett's truck drives by, already slowing down as he makes to recklessly pull into your driveway. Odd, he's not been gone for longer than an hour.

In the amount of time it takes you to finish cleaning this toy, Rhett has already stepped in through the side door, the hinges squealing as they open and shut. You can hear him all the way from here, the clicking of boots, the shuffling of those leather chaps as his legs brush together with every step.

"Rhett?"

Silence. Hmm, maybe he forgot something else? But the only thing you can think of him leaving here is the old rodeo t-shirt that's currently draped over your body.

A stray hand skitters up your bare thigh, seemingly appearing from thin air, making you jump, and you're sure you'd have fallen if it weren't for the warm body that presses so firmly against you. Familiar cologne graces your senses as Rhett's hot hand slides between your thighs, cupping your sex in his palm.

"Darlin'," his voice gravely as he whispers into your ear, a shiver ripples down your spine.

"Rhett?" Startled dumb by his unannounced appearance, "what're you—"

One wandering finger presses against your entrance, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from entering. His hips press further, something hard nudging against the curve of your ass, "—something's in them fuckin' flowers."

Your gaze flutters to the innocent flowers on the windowsill, just as vibrant as they were the last time you saw them. The vase is light in your hand as you bring it closer, looking at them closer. They seem fine, still no scent to be found.

"Do they not make you feel any different?" You can't figure out why he seems so surprised; why would wildflowers...

That thought is lost as you turn in Rhett's arms, unintentionally brushing the gathering of flowers against his nose. The pale blue of his eyes disappears as they dilate, almost turning black in just a second's time.

He recoils, shaking his head as if to clear an intrusive thought.

It all becomes a blur. One moment he's reaching out, yanking that vase from your palm and throwing it toward the sink; the next, your back is hitting the kitchen table, the wood creaking under your weight.

"So pretty in my fuckin' t-shirt," he growls into your ear, and you've got no strength to stop him from settling between your thighs, hips rolling into you, "I know I just fucked ya this mornin' darling, but God, I need you again."

The kiss that he silences your next words with is feverish, just as much of a whirlwind as the ones brought by the spring storms. You feel drunk, moving so slow while he moves so, so fast, legs struggling to secure around his waist. He's still got those chaps on, the material so slick that you can't get a good grip on him.

It's not until his thick finger sinks into you that you realize he's reached between your legs again. You weren't ready for it, but your walls yield to him anyway, the digit thrusting in and out of you as it curls, searching. Involuntarily, your body jolts as he finds it, and there's no way you can miss the way his lips quirk up as he continues to rub it.

"Fuck, you get wet so easily for me," nipping at your ear, "what if I rub that swollen little clit too, hm? Does that feel good, Princess?"

You don't know if you're reacting to his fingers or his words, but your hips squirm further into his touch regardless. His hot tongue laps at the underside of your jaw as he eases a second finger inside, properly fucking you with his fingers now, in tune with his thumb as it rubs your clit, up and down, repeatedly.

"Rhett," you plead, "Rhett, what's gotten into you?"

His hand slides out from your panties, and for a fleeting second, you think that maybe he's gotten a grip on himself. Until you feel the thin material sliding down your legs, garment tossed aside.

You find your answer wrapped in the wild look in his eye, crazed, desperate. The sound of his zipper coming down is so loud in your ears; wow, okay, he's not taking his jeans off either. He grips your hips with his big hands, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and securing your legs up over his hips, right where his jeans end.

"Such a pretty mess for me," Rhett hisses as he fishes himself out of his jeans. The strap of those old chaps catches against his length as he eases himself out, the material ultimately sinking lower down his hips, settling right atop the base of him.

His cock is so warm that it burns as the plush head of it meets your glistening cunt, rubbing up and down, the lightest of pressure teasing your clit, "fuck, but I don't have time to put a condom on, baby."

Then he's sliding back down, pressing against your still-stretched entrance until it gives, opening up to take him in. You can already feel yourself growing wetter around him, unnaturally so, dripping like someone's turned on a faucet. He stops just shy of your sweet spot, not even halfway in yet, sending you into an impatient, squirming frenzy. No, no, he's so close to it; why did he stop now?

"Look between your legs, baby girl," it's not a request; it's an order, "watch my cock as it disappears into your tight little pussy."

You don't have much of a choice but to look down, watching almost helplessly as he starts to sink into you again, sinking into you so, so slowly. Held in place by the strong, calloused hands that threaten to leave bruises on your hips, forced to lie there and feel yourself open up around him, inch by excruciatingly slow inch.

The entire Abbott family is big, you knew that from the moment you saw them for the first time, but damn, you had no idea that could apply here too. Rhett's not as long as he is thick, stretching you so wide around him that you fear you may never be able to take anything smaller. Feels like he's reaching up into your upper belly, pressing into your lungs. It's getting harder and harder to take a proper breath, reduced to nothing but soft, whimpering gasps as you look at him sliding inside.

"That's right, Princess," Rhett cooes, thumbs stroking circles into your ass, spiraling over and over, "stretchin' out around me so well. Keep breathin' for me; you're almost there."

His hips come flush to yours with an obscene squelch that makes your face heat up, embarrassment creeping up onto your face. It's just Rhett, but that was such a loud noise. He isn't still for any longer than a few seconds, drawing back halfway, just to sink back into you faster but still too damn slow.

Again, there's that filthy wet noise as he bottoms out, echoing throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and dancing down the hallway. He's shifting his angle, driving up into that spot that has your cunt quivering around him, punching a small whimper from deep within your throat.

Rhett's lips quirk up, smiling devilishly as he repeats it again and again, and with each thrust, you're only growing louder, a little wetter around his dick. That filthy noise only grows with your cries; you don't know what you want; you want his cock head to keep hitting that spot, but that noise. Those wet quenches from you tightening around him each time he sinks in. You can feel how red your face is growing; you're so wet that it feels downright shameful.

"Aw, baby, no need to get so shy," lowering himself onto his forearms, bracing his weight on either side of your head, "just means your pussy is getting fucked nice and deep; it feels good, doesn't it?" Just barely, you manage to nod a yes. "Then those are good noises, darlin'; means I'm doin' my job right."

He finds your lips with his own, hips moving so roughly that he can barely hold the kiss, broken apart by those rhythmic thrusts. He's getting twitchy, unintentionally slams into you harder, pushing you further up the table.

"Oh fuck," he moans into your mouth, "clenchin' so much around me, darlin'."

The parting of his lips grants you the perfect opportunity to meet his tongue with your own, lacing together in the sloppiest of dances, the sound akin to the one he's creating between your quivering legs.

Too soon, he's leaning back, standing up straight as he starts to properly drill into you, the kitchen table creaking with every heavy thrust. Your hands are scrambling for something to hold onto, struggling for purchase as he bullies his fat cockhead into that spongey little spot. Too much, too much, too much.

"You're so cute," Rhett hisses as you cling onto the hands that hold your poor hips, "who would have thought such a precious little thing would let a cowboy wreck her pussy, hm?"

It's hard to tell if it's his words or the way he keeps kissing your sweet spot that makes you start to flutter around him, involuntarily spasming as he brings you closer and closer. Downright punching the breath out of your lungs now, it'll be a miracle if you can stand after he's done ruining you.

"Fuck 'm gonna cum," he warns, chuckling as your eyes widen, "do you want me to cum in your sweet little cunt, Princess?"

Words are getting harder to come up with, your brain growing foggier with every crushing thrust of his big hips. It feels so good that the edges of your vision are going white, every sense clouding with Rhett, Rhett Rhett.

"I need you to answer me, baby," he's leaning down, forcing you to look into his darkened eyes, tone lowering "do you want me to cum inside you?"

Fuck, yes, yes, okay. Just barely holding onto control over your own body, you nod your head, humming as loudly as you can. Who cares if it's a bitch to clean his cum out of you, you're too close for him to go pulling out now.

His thrusts are quickening, ruining his rhythm in the most delicious and erratic of ways, "oh fuck, baby; I'm gonna fill you up," eyelashes fluttering as those pretty irises roll into the back of his head, "gonna make such a mess out of you."

The room is starting to spin, lungs burning for a proper breath, that coil in your belly pulling tighter and tighter; you're so close—

"Rhett!" A cry that's so weak that it's nothing more than a mere whimper, and that's all Rhett needs for his hips to pin yours to the table as he cums inside of you.

Thick, sticky ropes of white paint your abused, swollen walls. Body trembling like a leaf underneath him as his cum fills you up, have no choice but to feel him pulse deep inside of you. Such a mess, and you didn't

you didn't cum.

Fuck, you're so close, and yet it's not—it's not enough.

When he's done, Rhett gently slides out of you, blinking rapidly as if surprised by what's just happened, like he's just awoken from a dream. Leaving you with nothing but air to clench around, air that doesn't hit that swollen, throbbing spot inside of your gummy walls.

In the back of your head, some sort of switch flicks on.

That loosened feeling, the one that's already settling deep into your sore muscles, vanishes in an instant. Boosted with a sudden surge of energy, you sit up. Rhett's backing up, and no, no, that won't do a damn bit.

"Baby, what—ah!" His head tilts back as your fingers wrap into his hair and pull backward. Pliant in the palm of your hand, putting up no fight as you take the reins from him.

It's not until you get him down on the kitchen floor that he starts to catch on, shaking hand reaching between your legs as you straddle him.

"No," you hiss, smacking his hands back, "you're going to make me cum just from your cock."

Rhett yelps as you take hold of his still-hard cock, stroking it once, twice, before you line him back up with your dripping cunt. His chest heaving, deep, audible breaths that never seem to give him the air he's craving.

"Wait, wait, I'm—" he's cut off by his own pitchy moan as you ease him back inside, "sensitive!"

His hips buck, involuntarily pushing himself further into you, and with a resounding thud, his head hits the floor, lips parting with a gasp. The further you take him in, the further his eyes roll into the back of his head, back arching off the ground so prettily that you wish you could take a photo. The way his messy hair fans out in a halo around him, the soft bit of tummy that peeks out from under his flannel.

As soon as you feel him bottom out, you're planting your hands on his firm chest and lifting yourself back up, impatient, chasing that high that was so rudely ripped from your grasp. Below you, Rhett reaches up to cover his mouth with a sweaty palm, barely muffling his hoarse whimper as you start to ride him. Suddenly shy, afraid of his own filthy sounds.

"Oh, but you were so vocal just a minute ago," your thoughts are tumbling off your tongue before you even realize it, doesn't even feel like your mouth is attached to your body anymore. "Is the big cowboy too shy to moan in front of a lady?"

It's almost easy, reaching up and removing his hand from his mouth, and oh, there we go. There's those soft sounds rippling out of his throat, pitcher than his normal tone. His hand is like velcro; once you've taken hold of it, he doesn't let go, clinging to your wrist with a weakened grip.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, too sensitive," breath hitching as you reflexively clench down around him, "baby, baby, please I—"

The jump from a defiant, wild-eyed cowboy to a submissive, whimpering puddle of a man is so drastic that you fear it's going to give you whiplash. And to think that it's you who has made him like this, all by yourself. Not the girls who giggle and wave when he's fresh off a bull, not the nameless veterinarian who just came back into town, no, just you.

His thighs tremble as you work back up to the pace he'd set before, squirming below you, panting through parted lips. You're searching, seeking that still-tingling spot, wriggling above him as you try to find it. There's that sound again; the filthy squelch each time your hips move downward, so full of his cum and your own wetness that you can feel it move with every motion.

Hand rising, you take hold of his jaw, directing his unfocused gaze toward you, "I know you've got it in you; just hold on."

As if to reinforce your statement, Rhett nods, barely able to produce his little 'mhm' of agreement. You've done this before; he's got it in him.

Then his hips twitch, and he's hitting the exact spot you've been seeking, pussy tightening like a vice around him, only serves to make him cry out along with you. Slack-jawed, clinging to you the best that his trembling hands will allow. It's like he'll float off into space if he lets go. With the way your head is starting to spin, you fear you may float away as well, just about dizzy from the way he drives directly into that soft spot.

"Feels good," Rhett babbles, "fuck, that feels so good."

Rhett's properly squirming now. Sounds becoming more and more urgent as you use him for your own pleasure. You reach up, pressing a tentative thumb to his bottom lip. Not missing a beat, he rises, just enough to take your finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digit like it's a sweet treat on a summer day.

"'m gonna cum again," he murmurs around your finger, easily welcoming a second one, "fuck, you're ridin' me so hard."

"Better be careful," you taunt, catching his tongue between your fingers, "I'm not stopping until you get me off."

With the softest whimper, his hips jolt upward, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you as he cums for a second time. Spasming below you, those pretty eyes squeezing shut as it wracks through his body like an earthquake.

True to your word, you keep going.

Long gone is Rhett's ability to stay quiet, whining, reduced to soft babbles of words that you can't make out. With your now wet fingers, you reach between your bodies, fingertips finding your swollen, neglected clit. So sensitive from the lack of attention, just one touch makes your hips stutter, heat pooling between your legs once more.

There's a hiccup below you.

Oh.

"Please," he rattles, voice barely there as tears well in the corners of his eyes, "fuck—fuck, please cum, baby, please—"

Too weak to even hold you anymore, his hands fall onto either side of him, palms to the ceiling as he just takes it. Can't help the broken sobs bubble up with each fall of your hips, his plush head hitting that spongey spot inside your trembling walls. You can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, growing breathless as you feel yourself start to tumble closer and closer.

Rhett's hips jolt up, slamming into you, and that's all it takes.

Spasming around him, you finally, finally cum. Hips going suddenly still form the force of it, as you flutter and tighten around him. Your lungs are burning, can't quite tell if you've quit breathing or if he's just punched the air out of him. What you do know is that there's a ringing in your ear as you come down from it, so loud that you can't hear anything else.

Weakly, you lift yourself, letting his cock ease out of you, and yikes, he's going to need to have a hell of a time washing these jeans and these poor old chaps.

As the ringing leaves your ears, you settle into a messy heap next to him, hips too sore to stay wrapped around him any longer than necessary. Has your lower back been killing you this whole time?

Rhett's loud, shaky sob takes you away from your thoughts.

"'m still fuckin' hard," he whimpers, and oh, you didn't realize how much he was actually crying, "it hurts."

His cock rests against his stomach just as normal as day, flushed and leaking into the fabric of his clothes. You almost don't believe it until you reach out and ghost your fingers over him. Still hard, but so sensitive that he jumps away from your barely-there touch.

"Rhett..." you don't know what to say; this has never happened before; what in the world are you supposed to do?

Reaching up, you curl your hand around his cheek, watching as he sniffles and leans into it, like a touch-starved puppy. You're trying to wipe away his tears, but each time your thumb strokes one away, another rolls out. He doesn't seem to have any ideas himself, timidly reaching for himself and then jumping as if his own touch has burned him.

Your eyes dart back to the kitchen sink, then back to him. "...do you want the plug?"

He's quiet.

Then, slowly offers you an unsure nod of his head. "Please."

Despite giving you his consent to get up and fetch it from the counter, he starts fussing the moment you stumble up onto your trembling legs. Pitifully reaching out for you because the submissive in him is convinced that one day you're going to leave him all by himself in this fragile headspace.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promise, lifting the remote for him to see, "I promise."

You need to get the lubricant from the bedroom, and you truly don't know how you're going to do it. The bedroom is carpeted, and that is definitely Rhett's cum you feel dripping down your inner thigh. The last thing you want to deal with is cleaning that out of the carpet but at the same time—

oh.

Nevermind.

It seems Rhett already has you covered because he lifts his hips, fishing around in his back pocket until he produces a few packets of lube. Huh, didn't know he still carried some on him.

"What possesses you to carry lube packets everywhere?" You ask, watching as he fumbles with the thin strap of his chaps; you don't even want to know how wet that material is.

"Expect the unexpected," he mutters, "like mysterious aphrodisiac wildflowers that pop up in your west pasture."

Still going on about the flowers.

Tilting your head, you cast a wayward glance toward the innocent little things. Could it...actually be the flowers?

It takes a solid four seconds of thought for you to decide that maybe there really is something up with them. In one quick motion, you left the vase and dump the contents out the open window.

Rhett's kicking off his shoes, grumbling to himself as he fidgets with the jeans that stubbornly stick to his hips. Just a hair too small, the kind that hugs his thighs and ass like it's their only purpose. He's got no real choice but to wear them because the next size up is too long in the legs.

And you are eternally thankful.

Even as you have to stop and help him pull them off, the chaps coming along with them and landing in a messy pile on the kitchen floor. You can't complain. Not when you get to watch Rhett jump to fit himself into those tight-fitting jeans every morning.

"My ass needs to get smaller," he grumbles. Oh, the jeans seem to have taken his briefs with them.

Biting back your hundred and thirty reasons why his ass is perfect the way that it is, you settle between his already parted legs, opening up one of the packets. His thighs timidly press against either side of your hips, like you'll slip away again if he doesn't hold onto you.

The lubricant is already warm, almost hot, as it drizzles around your fingers. One of the perks of being carried around in his pocket, you suppose. There's not a lot in this little packet, but it'll suffice.

Even from such a simple thing, his entrance flutters as you press the pad of your finger to it, anticipating something that hasn't even come yet. His head bounces with a short nod, nonverbally telling you to hurry up.

It only takes the slightest of pressure for him to open up around your finger, surprisingly...loose.

"Tried to take care of it at the ranch," he offers, cheeks pink, "wasn't enough to even cum."

Rhett's statement is proven true when he opens up for your second and third fingers without much resistance. In and out, gentle, long thrusts of your fingers that make his legs start to squirm, shuffling back and forth with anticipation. You haven't searched for his prostate yet, simply mesmerized by the way he opens up and takes your fingers, pink rim stretched and clinging to everything you offer him.

His cock rests flat against his stomach, flushed an angry shade of red as it continues to leak and make a mess of the bottom of his flannel. Your eyes are still trained on it as your fingers crook, and it jumps.

Rhett's back arches off the ground, a silent, strained noise tearing out of his throat, "ahaa—!"

He's squirming again, hips writhing as you continue to abuse his rubbery prostate. Head tilted to the side, panting, watching with the softest eyes as you do it to him. Innocent even, like he isn't sure what's going on or why, but he's following your lead because he trusts it.

Too soon, you're pulling your hand back, almost lured back into giving him more when he gasps so pitifully.

"Hold on, baby," you soothe, opening another packet, "I'm only stopping for a few seconds."

The plug is still somewhat damp from its earlier washing, almost doesn't even need the lube, to begin with, but the last thing you want to do is hurt him. He doesn't skimp out on the lube when you need it, and neither will you.

When it's properly slicked, you pass it off to his already open hand. It's cute how he clings to that tiny bit of control whenever he's feeling fragile. Reminds you of how he used to fuss about only riding your strap because he was still nervous about giving you complete control down there.

Now he's turned into your pillow princess and gets fussy when his thighs start to burn from riding you.

He hisses as he works it into himself, and as he busies himself with that, you move to settle down by his side instead. Where you can comfortably reach for his cock, but also run your clean hand through his hair.

His back arches up once more as it fully slides inside, moaning behind closed lips at the feeling. Then, slowly, he offers up a little hum, and you already know what to do.

Picking up the remote, you turn it on.

As if touched by a live wire, his body jerks as the toy audibly buzzes to life, crooked perfectly against his sensitive prostate, "oh fuck."

"Do you want me to touch you?" To which he nods feverishly.

He's rock solid and throbbing in your hand, unwavering from his first two orgasms, stubbornly flushed and leaking like he hasn't been touched in months. His hips twitching backward are the only sign of how many times he's cum, running from the feeling.

"Higher, please, high—ah!" Cut off by his own cry as the vibrating plug jumps up a notch, eyes squeezing shut as he shudders through it.

When those baby blues open, they're watery again.

"Rhett?" Reaching for his cheek, feeling him needily lean into it.

"I wanna cum," curling toward you, lifting his head to nuzzle directly into your belly, "please, it hurts—I wanna cum again."

Changing the setting one more time, you let him snuggle closer. Cradling the back of his head as your other hand works his sensitive, likely sore cock, swirling around just the way he's always liked. You can almost feel the plug working him, slow pulses that offer just enough attention to his prostate; it's his favorite setting.

"I've got you," your voice feels too loud compared to his minuscule whimpers and the distant buzz of the toy.

He's starting to shake again, overwhelmed as tears wet your shirt, holding onto you with what strength he's got left. Hiccuping, making such sounds that you've never heard come from him before.

With little to no warning, he cums for the third time. He's got nothing to give you, pulsing in your hand but producing little more than precum, breathing hard through his nose.

Then he goes still.

"Rhett?" Turning it off, you move to pull away, trying to get a look at his face. "Rhett?"

Boneless, he wriggles closer, refusing to let you go. Not passed out as you feared.

It takes him a while to lift his head, peering up at you with swollen, red eyes and the wobbliest smile. "Will you stay with me for a minute?"

Simultaneously, your heart breaks and melts. So precious, but it makes you so sad to realize that he's still afraid when he's like this.

You don't know how long you spend laying on your own kitchen floor with Rhett quietly resting on top of you. Both sticky messes from your ventures, minds just now starting to catch up to what in the world just happened. The tile needs mopping before things start to dry in places they shouldn't, and both of you need a long bath that will hopefully wash away whatever spell those wildflowers allegedly cast upon Rhett.

"Aphrodisiac flowers, huh?" You ask, stroking his hair, "that's...new."

"Dad's gonna have to find someone else to tear them up," laughing weakly, Rhett tilts his head up to look at you, "my dick might fall off if I get into them again."

Those flowers take root and grow back next Spring right outside your kitchen window.

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #ao3 oneshot #oneshot #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #sex pollen #what the FUCK happened here

228 notes · View notes