#rhett abbot x y/n

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: When your pastor wishes to practice fulfilling his God-given responsibilities, you're more than happy to oblige.

Warning: Strong breeding kink. Language, preacher!Rhett, female reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), creampies. I'd like to give my NSA agent a formal apology.

The praise got old after a while, the words all the same. He smiled and nodded as he made his way towards the back of the church, past the throngs of people. Their compliments washed over him. He had heard them all before. 

Beautiful sermon. So lovely. What a fresh take. What a way to take it back to tradition. 

He used to cling to every comment when he first began as the church's preacher. Hung to their every word. 

But now he had something more important. Something better than the congregation's words. Something that he believed rivaled heaven. 

You.

As he walked down the hallway of his church, the voices of adults faded away and were replaced with that of young children. 

Some say it was a miracle how quickly you had been able to grow the children’s ministry. Rhett knew it was because once you set your mind to something, you were determined to get it done. 

Like how you were determined to start a new life. Determined to put your past behind you. Determined to spend more time with him. 

Not that Rhett minded. He had already been thinking of ways he could get you involved, get to know you better, get to spend more time with you. He saw your potential, ever since he first met you at that church picnic. 

You were much like him. A good soul that had been led astray by wayward circumstances, desperately trying to get back to salvation. 

Which was why Rhett did everything he could to make you feel welcomed, to find a place for you. 

The clergy had been talking for years about expanding the Children's Ministry; expanding beyond a nursery, turning it into a place where all children could learn the valuable words of the Lord, where families could become a part of a welcoming community. 

Then you came along. It didn't strike Rhett as odd that you were working at the local diner, despite having gone to school for teaching. It wasn't his place to judge, after all, everyone had their reasons. 

Just like he had his for leaving Wabang. 

Rhett was convinced. Convinced that you were the answers to his prayers. That God had led you to him. 

You were much like him. You wanted to do good, to repent for your past sins. 

When he offered his help, you accepted graciously. After all, the program had to be blessed by the lead pastor. 

And soon, you were blessed by Rhett. In his office, bent over his desk. Over the front pew, right before his sermon. In his home, as he sat in his leather chair, while you were on your knees. In your home, your back against the bed while Rhett's mouth whispered words of praise against your cunt.

Reverend Abbott had many blessings to bestow onto you. 

But the biggest blessing Rhett wanted to give you- his last name- had to wait. As a preacher, he could get married. However, that didn't stop him from having to navigate the bullshit of church politics. That people felt strongly over who should be the wife of their preacher; after all, she would become the face of the church. 

You were willing to work your way up. Not that gaining the good graces of the congregation was hard. Everyone loved how you had dedicated yourself to creating the Sunday School program, how you took the time to get to know families, earning their trust when it came to looking after their children. 

Normally you would be leading the Sunday school session for the early school age children. But today you were in the nursery. A new couple was hesitant about leaving their first child alone, so to soothe their nerves you promised to be in the room.  

Rhett beamed with pride when he saw how relaxed the couple was after hearing you'd be there. Though his mood had dampened when he realized the only way he could show it in public was a simple squeeze of your shoulder. 

He wouldn’t have to do that much longer. Rhett had started receiving knowing glances when you were mentioned. Folks had begun coming up to him, telling him how good you had been for the church. 

The ball was rolling. Soon Rhett wouldn't have to sneak around and instead could kiss you whenever he wanted, instead of behind closed doors. 

Rhett was incredibly thankful, as the sight in front of him nearly brought him to his knees. 

Through the door window, he saw you in the nursery, wearing the same yellow gingham dress you wore to the church picnic where he first met you. In your arms was a baby you were rocking back and forth. 

You looked like a natural, like it was what you were always meant to do. You confided in Rhett that you did enjoy the times you got to go to the nursery, to spend time with the youngest. 

Rhett could see your mouth moving, a bright smile on your face as you spoke to the infant. You gently placed them in the nearby crib, rocking it to ensure the infant fell asleep. 

He watched as a toddler waddled up to you, pulling on the long skirt of your dress. You didn't mind, picking up the little tyke and resting him on your hip. 

Rhett gripped the door knob, trying to ground himself while all the blood in his body went straight to his cock. He tried to think of holy things, he really did. 

But the thought of you surrounded by children-his children, with your stomach round and full with his baby, refused to leave his mind. 

Perhaps it was a sign from God that he needed to explore. 

First, he needed to get you out of here and into a room alone with him. 

"Miss Fabre?" You had gotten better about responding to your 'name'. Soon you would have a new last name- Rhett's. One that was actually yours, one that would represent new beginnings.

It's what you deserved, after all your hardships. Rhett wasn't sure why someone like you had been given so many challenges. You didn't deserve to have to look over your shoulder, worried a remnant of the life you tried so hard to escape would show up. You still did, despite watching Rhett ensure your ghosts were laid to rest. 

You looked up, a sweet smile overtaking your face at the sight of him. 

He swore his knees nearly went weak. 

"How's our newest member of the congregation?" Rhett motioned to the crib you were nearby. 

"She's doing well!" You put the little toddler down, who was more than happy to scurry off and investigate the painting activity. 

"She was a little fussy at first, but settled right in." Rhett joined you by the crib, admiring how you looked down at the little one with such bright eyes and a smile nothing short of radiant. 

"That's because she had you," His voice was low in your ear. A shiver went down your spine when you felt his large hand squeeze your shoulder. 

"You're a natural at this, y'know that?" You could only nod, too busy focusing on the butterflies in your stomach. 

"Think one day you'll want your own?" Your head turned to find Rhett's blue eyes focused on the baby in the crib. 

"I do," you paused, your hand moving closer to Rhett's, "with the right person." 

Rhett's breath hitched upon feeling your pinky gently run along his hand. Your touch grounded him. To Rhett, it was his salvation. 

And he wanted to show that to you. 

"May I speak to you? Privately." 

You would do anything the owner of that deep voice asked. 

You nodded, following him out the door. As soon as you two were out of sight, his hand engulfed yours, leading you through the hallways of the church. 

"You leading me through a maze?" You giggled. Normally your laugh was music to Rhett's ears, a sound better than the choir. 

But there were more pressing matters at hand. 

As soon as the door to his office opened, Rhett's lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, his hands now on your shoulders, walking you backwards. 

The click of the door closing is now distant. Did he even close it all the way? Your head was clouded due to his addictive scent; rosemary that always lingered on him. 

His stubble is now brushing against the soft skin of your neck as his teeth nip down to your collarbone. Rhett's hands felt heavenly, squeezing your breasts through the soft fabric of your dress.

"Need my angel," he muttered against your skin, teeth nipping at the soft flush. 

You found yourself on his desk, legs spread wide enough for Rhett to get down on his knees, ready to worship at his favorite altar. 

The soft fabric of your dress is pushed upwards to your hips, exposing your clothed cunt. 

Rhett made quick work of removing the cotton fabric, stuffing it in his back pocket for later. 

A gasp fell from your lips upon feeling his stubble against your thighs, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh. 

"Rhett, some-fuck! Someone could walk i-in," you tried to get his attention by tugging on his dark blonde locks. The action only spurred him on, his tongue desperately lapping at your core. 

"Good, let'em see who you belong to." 

Everyday he was getting bolder. What had started out as small smiles and quick taps on the shoulder had turned into lingering touches and whispers in your ear, beyond what was appropriate for two colleagues, for two friends. 

Your teeth sunk into your fist, trying to contain your whimpers. As much as you loathed having to sneak around, it was for a good reason; you two were so close to being in the clear, to finally reaching the path God had intended for you two all along, despite the numerous obstacles thrown your way. 

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to push him away. Your body melts into him, relishing in his touch. 

Rhett easily works two fingers inside of you, thankful that he had you earlier this morning, hours before his first sermon. 

He knew greed was a sin. But was it greedy when he just wanted to fulfill his duty? 

"Such a good girl, always ready f'me." 

His words caused you to whimper, your hips bucking up towards his face. Rhett let out a chuckle, sending vibrations throughout your body as he looked up to see your withering form. 

Rhett thought it was better than any other icon he had ever seen. Your parted lips, half closed eyes, the small gasps that fell from your mouth. 

"You want it? Wanna be full of me?" 

"Always wanna be full of you." 

His cock twitched at your words, grunts falling from his lips as his hands fumbled to remove his belt. He pulled his pants and boxers down far enough to free his hard cock. 

Your arms extend out, finding his hair as his lips devour yours, swallowing your moans as he eases into you. 

Rhett can feel your hips squirm as you adjust to the sheer size of him. You bury your head into his neck, trying to muffle your gasps as he bottoms out. 

"S'fucking tight."

For a man of God, his mouth was sinful. 

He quickly set a fast pace, knowing how short he was on time. You buried your face into his neck, practically clinging onto him for dear life. 

"Want me to fill ya up angel?" You could only whimper in response, causing him to chuckle, "Course ya do. S'good f'me. Gonna be the perfect lil' wife f'me." 

Your walls clenched at his words. It wasn't the first time you two had spoken about this particular subject. But usually it was done with bashful smiles and Rhett's cheeks turning red as a tomato. 

This? This was bold. 

You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. If you hadn’t thought about taking the next steps with him. Haven’t thought about moving in with him, living on his ranch with a little one running around. 

"Ya like the sound of that? Gonna keep you full of me. Every day 'till it takes." 

His cock began brushing against the spot that made you see stars. Your lips pressed against his forehead, his mouth moving down your collarbone to the tops of your breasts. 

"Gonna look s'good, full of me," he pulled the fabric down before sinking his teeth into your skin. Rhett knew that you could easily cover the bite marks. In fact, he loved it. Loved knowing underneath that fabric were physical reminders of his devotion towards you. That you would be able to feel it, you would know it was there as folks tried to talk to you. 

That you were his. 

Those very thoughts sent your head reeling, pleasure surging throughout your body. Any concern about the door, someone walking by, the Millers' baby, were gone. All you could focus on was the way his cock made you feel so full. 

“Fuck, can’t wait until these get full. Ya gonna look so pretty angel, carryin’ our baby.” His tongue lapped at the fresh bite mark on your breasts. The action did little to soothe you, adding to the ache between your legs. 

Two fingers tapped at your bottom lip. You opened, moaning around his long digits. Soon, there would be a wedding band around one of them. Soon you two wouldn't have to go to restaurants in the next town over. Soon you would be able to hold his hand in public. 

Soon you two would have the life you always deserved, the life you both made so many sacrifices for, committed sins for. 

Rhett always said that sometimes God put good people in bad circumstances. And that in those cases, the Lord understood you had to do what was necessary to get out. 

You still doubt whether you were good. But with Rhett, you knew you could be. 

His fingers left your mouth, moving to just above where your bodies connected. 

"Gonna have ya sit in the front row. So everyone can see who you belong to. See who fucked a baby into ya." 

Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. Even with his button up, you knew there would be faint crescent-shaped marks. Not that Rhett minded. He liked the physical reminders of your devotion just as much as you, if not more. 

His hips rocked into yours. That, combined with the circles he was drawing on your clit, led to your undoing. His other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans. You should at least try to be quiet, given the circumstances. 

But that was near impossible with how his thick cock was dragging in and out of your wet cunt, prolonging your pleasure. He always made you feel so good, so full. 

"Rhett," his name weakly fell from your lips, barely audible over the obscene sound of his cock fucking your wetness back into you. 

"Whatcha need angel?" He grunted. Rhett liked to consider himself a good listener. Many had told him it was one of his strengths as a preacher. But it was so hard to focus on anything other than you. 

"Need….need y'to fill me up," your words were slurred, as if you were drunk off his cock. 

Wouldn't be the first time. 

His hands gripped the back of your thighs, bringing your legs up to his hips. The new angle allowed him to fuck you even deeper. 

"That's what ya want? Want me to fill ya up? Make ya mine?" 

"W-want it s'bad Rhett." His words made your walls clench, head spinning in a sickly sweet pleasure, "Wanna have your baby." 

None of the words that fell from his mouth could be found in the Bible. 

The oversensitivity combined with how deep he was fucking you caused you to teether back and forth from pleasure to pain. A near animalistic need was overtaking your body, the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of him coming deep inside of you. 

"Want me to keep going, don't ya? So deep inside ya, I bet ya want it to take." It made your head reel that this was the same man who an hour earlier, was speaking to a congregation about loving thy neighbor. 

His different layers were what caused you to fall in love with Rhett. The same man who was grunting words of pure filth was the same man who planned to make you dinner. It was the same man who personally saw to it that your demons were laid to rest, unable to haunt you ever again. 

The same man who was now pressing his lips gently to your forehead as he pulled out. 

"I'll feel ya up real good tonight angel, promise. But folks are probably wondering where we are." You nodded, though your body remained wrapped up in his. 

"You know, they're still gonna wonder where we are, even after they learn about us." 

Rhett simply smiled as he stuffed your panties into his back pocket. 

"Yeah, but they'll know better than to say anything about it." 

One of your eyebrows quirked upwards, "Perks of being a man of God?" 

His lips pressed against yours for a quick peck, "You'll get those perks too angel. Soon." 

It couldn't come soon enough.

[sushiwriterhere]

right where i want you

summary: "Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader word count: 6.1k warnings: sub!rhett, pseudo enemies-to-lovers!, mentions of violence, choking, dry humping, overstimulation, aftercare, potentially ooc, no use of y/n.  notes: uhhh walk him like a dog bitch walk him like a dog🗣😼 i'm not even gonna lie to y'all i've never seen outer range but lewis pullman is in my brain. pls let me know what u think! thank you to @sebsxphia for encouraging my rhett brainworms and to @rhettabbotts for reading a snippet ! my other works are here tagging: @lewmagoo @wkndwlff @bobfloyds @sometimesanalice @bradshawsbitch @roosterbruiser @withahappyrefrain @theharddeck - pls let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

You work a comb in steady, circular motions over your horse’s coat, watching as the dust and pollen raises into the soft afternoon light. Just under the background noise of the stable, you hear boots crunching and you immediately know who it is. All your time away hasn’t changed a thing, it seems. 

“Rhett Abbott you leave me alone or I’ll yell at the top of my lungs, I swear.” You don’t even turn around to look at him, as if not making eye contact would mean he’ll leave. He won’t. And he never does.

“How’d ‘ya know it was me?” You hear the way he kicks at the dirt of the barn floor with his boots absentmindedly, and you try to not let his presence rile you up too much since you know that’s what he wants.

You still don’t turn around to face him. “Because y’never leave me alone.” 

“I’m jus’ sweet on ‘ya. Couldn’t help it if I tried. Besides, missed ‘ya while ‘ya were away at that fancy east coast school o’ yours.”

“Well, have you tried?” You ignore the second part of what he said–you’re back for the summer, and you really haven’t been gone all that long even if your parents act like you’ve come back from the dead.

That pulls a laugh from him. 

For as long as you can remember, Rhett Abbott has been a pain in your ass. You were slightly younger than him but that somehow never stopped him from always finding a way to be in your presence. Your dad being Wabang’s sheriff didn’t seem to deter him either, especially when your dad started getting real prickly about having boys around. 

“Nope,” He lets his lips pop dramatically on the ‘p’ sound, then pauses as if to consider his next words, “Plus, you’re real cute when you’re mad.”

All you want is to turn around and throw the rubber brush you’ve got clenched in your fingers at his stupid, smug, face. You know the exact expression he’s wearing in that moment because it’s the same one he’s had every other time he’s taunted you. 

“Decide if you love me or hate me, Rhett Abbott. Quit wastin’ my time.” You hiss, and this time you do turn around. You refrain from throwing anything at him, though. 

“Aw, don’t get too upset now,” He pushes himself off the stall door he’d been leaning against and makes his way into your personal space.

You level him with a scathing glare before going back to grooming. Even the way he breathes around you seems to raise your hackles and you wonder if all this tension is ever going to resolve itself. If he’s ever going to leave you alone.

“I didn’t come by to bother ‘ya, honest.” He murmurs.

You don’t grant him a response, but he stays where he is, undeterred.

“I wanted to see if you’d come out tonight, everyone’s been missin’ ‘ya. Whole town’s in uproar that you’re back.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

That seems to satisfy him as a grin spreads across his face and he spins on his heel, whistling jauntily as he strolls out of the stable.

You’re loathe to admit it, but it makes something twist in your stomach at the thought that Rhett came by to invite you out, to tell you he missed you. That everyone missed you. You shove that feeling down, though. Rhett’s always just been a nuisance and the fact that he seems to have gotten far handsomer while you’d been away is not part of your calculus.

-

For all his insistence that he actually likes you, has been thinking about you this whole time, Rhett sure is more than happy to let some buckle bunny cuddle up to him. You swallow something down, not jealousy, but what feels like a lump in your throat. He’s a liar and you’re a fool. Rhett Abbott will never be anything but a good for nothing, sonofa—

You storm out of the bar in a huff, not noticing the way Rhett’s eyes follow you over the head of the bleach blonde who’s grasping the collar of his flannel. 

In missing Rhett’s gaze, you also miss the way James Earl follows you out. By the time you’re in the parking lot, it’s too late to turn around. James is between you and the door. 

He calls your name and it makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up, “Wait up!”

“Leave me alone, James.” You really don’t want to deal with him right now, you don’t want to deal with any men, for that matter. 

“I said wait.” His voice turns acidic and you pause before turning around slowly. There’s nowhere else for you to go but back into the bar, and you’re certain he won’t just let you walk off while you try to call your dad.

“Now that you’re back, I’m going to take you out to dinner.” James looks almost like he has good intentions, but you haven’t lost touch with the way news travels in Wabang just because you were separated by a few states. 

You know what the girls who stayed behind say about him. You heard the stories in high school about how he treated his girlfriends–always holding their arms too tight, a little too possessive. There’s nothing about him that you like, or even want to tolerate, at all.

“No, thank you, James. I really should get going.” You try to sound sweet, try to turn on the charm in hopes that he’ll change his mind. 

You turn your phone over in your hands, unlock it, and try to act nonchalant. You remember the Swiss army knife tucked in your bra if things get rough. 

His demeanor switches in an instant.

“You think just ‘cause you’re the sheriff's daughter you can just walk around like you own this place, huh? Too good for us with your fancy college? All of Wabang swoonin’ over a stuck up, prissy, little bitch.” The words are like poison, but you try to stand your ground, “Why I ought’a teach you a lesson.”

When James stalks your way, one hand starting to reach for you as you reel back in fear, you realize just what he intends. The world slows to a molasses, you’re outside your body as you freeze, unable to do much but witness what you know is about to happen to you.

Instead of James’ hand around your wrist or in your hair, Rhett’s voice breaks the moment, “Earl, I’ll make ‘ya sorry ‘ya ever look’d at ‘er if ‘ya don’t step away right now.” 

There he is, illuminated by the bar deck lights, one hand on his belt as he stalks into the parking lot. You’d call him your savior if you don’t blame him somehow; if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in whatever girl was giving him attention in that moment maybe you wouldn’t be here. 

“Like hell you will, Abbott. Leave us alone, this is none of your business.” James whirls around, his attention momentarily off you.

You think you can make your escape, make it back inside the bar where there are more eyes and call your dad to get him to pick you up. Instead, you watch as Rhett and James come face to face, both acting like macho idiots. 

They soil your plan for a hasty escape. It’s Rhett who makes the first move and shoves James, hard. In a split second they’re yelling obscenities at each other as Rhett grabs him by the collar to shake him and clock him across the face. His knuckles split open on James’ face and you aren’t sure if his nose is broken from the blow or not. 

“Stop it!” You try to at least get Rhett’s attention, maybe use his feelings for you for good, but it does little as James tries to gain the upper hand. “Rhett Abbott you fool, get off’a him!”

All at once, a few other patrons spill out of the bar doors at the commotion. You’re standing a few feet back from the pair as they tussle; there’s blood strewn in the dirt and you hope not too much of it is Rhett’s. Suddenly they’re being pulled apart.

You march up to James and stick a finger in his face as he struggles against the men holding his arms, “You ever try that shit with me again I’ll make sure my daddy gives you exactly what you deserve.”

His face is twisted up in a snarl, and he looks like he’s considering spitting in your face, “Still hiding behind your daddy? Figures.”

He’s hauled off in a moment before you can respond, no doubt to get cleaned up and have someone take a look at his nose. Maybe even to face your dad. You whirl around to start shouting at Rhett next, but he’s simply standing there, hands hanging loosely by his sides. No one’s restraining him anymore, they’re all dealing with James you guess, and you realize that it’s just the two of you in the parking lot at that point. 

You make your decision in an instant, “Give me your keys.” 

You don’t get closer to him, you just hold a hand out and look at him expectantly. Rhett doesn’t move. 

“Rhett Abbott, you damned fool, give me your keys so I can take your stupid ass home.” 

He has the audacity to smile wolfishly at you, cheek bruising, and say lowly as he walks to you, “Tryin’ to take me home, sugar?”

Snatching his keys from his fist, you turn around without responding. You don’t check if he’s following you, some part of you knows you don’t need to. 

You climb into the drivers side of his truck and start it, only barely waiting for him to get in and buckle up. Switching it into gear, you start driving. It’s deathly silent in the cab as you drive, ignoring far too many traffic laws along the way for someone who was raised by the sheriff. Rhett fidgets in his seat next to you. 

As you weave down the back country roads to his place, you distantly recall the time during high school when he’d bought the truck. All week, girls had flocked to him, begging him to teach them to drive stick (they all already knew) or even just sit in the back. Trucks were a dime a dozen, but Rhett Abbott’s was special in the eyes of all the future buckle bunnies. 

You’d watched the chaos from afar until he’d lifted his gaze from the girl tugging at his flannel to look at you. You’d looked away quickly, too embarrassed to be caught staring at him despite your continued insistence you didn’t like him in the slightest and that he never crossed your mind.

He never did end up giving any of the girls a chance. He wouldn’t even let them touch the keys.

Now here you are, driving his truck like it’s your own without a single complaint from him. 

When you pull up to his house, you get out the same way you’d gotten in–without a word and barely waiting for him to catch up to you. It’s almost instinctual, the way you grab the house key from next to the truck one, unlock the door and shove inside, only knowing that he’s inside too because of the way the door slides shut softly instead of slamming. 

Once inside, you flick on the kitchen light and round on him, “Now why’d ‘ya have to go and start shit with James Earl, huh?”

Rhett looks like he’s just been scolded by his mother for leaving his socks on the floor at his ripe age, and he scoffs harshly. You don’t miss the way his knuckles are split and crusted in blood. There’s a bruise blooming high on one of his cheeks. 

“I’m the one startin’ shit? He was tryin’ somethin’ with you!” He takes a step toward you but you don’t move, “Earl’s a piece of shit and he got what was comin’ to him. I don’t regret a goddamn thing.”

“I had it handled.” Your defense is instinctual–knee jerk, even—everyone wants you to be fragile, to be something that needs protecting, and you’re sick of it. 

“Did ‘ya?” You’re toe to toe now, and his shoulders are heaving. “‘Cause what I saw said somethin’ else.”

For a moment, you think he might kiss you. It takes all of your mental effort not to shove him and start shouting at him for how stupid he is, so instead you raise a single eyebrow and plaster on your most disapproving expression possible. 

“I’m not arguin’ with you, Rhett Abbott. Get your damn first-aid kit and lemme clean ‘ya up.” 

For once in his life, he listens to you. Eventually you find yourself kneeling in front of him as he sinks into the couch. You’ve turned on one of the living room lights, but there’s still just barely enough light to make out the details of his face and the way he tore up his knuckles on James Earl’s nose and cheeks. 

“Now keep bein’ all tough, I better not hear ‘ya bitchin’ about the antiseptic hurtin’.” You don’t have it in you to actually hurt him though, so you keep the press of the rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton balls gentle. 

He draws his shoulders up by his ears regardless, hissing lightly when it stings. Thankfully, only his pinky knuckle is actually split open on his right hand, so he won’t be entirely useless at work. His left hand is in worse shape, with three of his knuckles bubbling blood where he managed to cut them open. Both hands are bruised.

He doesn’t comment on your position at his knees. 

“Earl’s nose better be fuckin’ broken.” Rhett finally breaks the silence as you finish cleaning his hands. 

You don’t grant him with a response. Instead you stand to your full height and make your way to the kitchen to throw away the cotton balls now soaked with his blood. Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

When you return to him, he hasn’t moved a muscle. He simply tips his head back to look at you. Slowly, you put one knee up on the couch next to his thighs, then the other, and all of a sudden you’re kneeling over his lap. The hem of your dress just barely brushes his jeans. He looks like he’s holding his breath and he barely exhales when you let your full weight rest on him.

“I need to make sure he didn’t break yours.” It’s a lame excuse and you both know it, but you know he won’t call you on it, not when your bare thighs are warm against his denim-clad ones. 

He smells like outside, like the evening sun, and something that tickles your nose; it’s uniquely Rhett. Privately, you wonder if all his clothes smell like him, and if they carry that scent even when he hasn’t worn them in a long while. 

Shifting in his lap, you cradle his face and turn it toward the light. As if he’s trying not to spook a wild horse, he very delicately places his hands on your thighs. He doesn’t grip them, doesn’t let his fingertips twitch, just rests his calloused palms against your bare skin.

“Looks fine to me.” You breathe out, realizing how close your faces are.

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment.” He’s trying to sound flirtatious, trying to sound like the casanova his reputation makes him out to be, only he’s breathless and his face is flushed and you can feel his pulse racing.

You hate when men think they can just take control of you in bed because they’re a man and you’re not. But with Rhett, you can tell you’ve got him right where you want him by the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and the way his hands rest on your thighs, fingertips just barely brushing the hem of your dress. 

Letting go of his face, you brush imaginary dust off his shoulders before letting one hand rest flat on his chest, and threading the other up into his hair. It’s silkier than you ever imagined despite the way you know you can safely assume he does jack all to take care of it. He’s so damn pretty it makes your chest ache.

Both of you are silent, only the sounds of your breathing barely audible. Ever so gently, you slide your hand from his hair to the base of his neck. He’s like a foal in the way you’re unsure of how he’ll react to your hand placement, a new sort of touch. His heart hammers in his chest beneath your palm.

He doesn’t bolt or react strongly. Instead, he swallows thickly against your hand, blinking slowly at the sensation of your fingers tucked neatly around his throat. You’re not squeezing in the slightest, just letting your fingers rest around the warm, tanned, skin of his neck.

“Are you going to behave, Rhett?” Your voice is low over the sounds of the night outside.

He nods as you flex your fingers gently, testing the waters, and his eyes flutter shut. Rocking your hips experimentally, you feel the way his grip tightens on your thighs and the way he’s hard against you. 

He likes it. He likes the way you’ve got a hand around his throat, the other resting gently on his chest. He isn’t fighting you, he isn’t arguing–for once in his life, he’s quiet in your presence. 

The realization of how obedient he’s being sends a skittering sort of arousal through you. You see yourself pulling on jeans tomorrow and finding his fingerprints on you. You see him staring at himself in the mirror in the morning, lost at how to cover up the evidence of what you’d done to him the night before.

“You’ve spent all this time pullin’ my pigtails, and now that I’m here you can’t even form words.” He keeps his eyes closed and nods ever so slightly.

You want to hate him. 

Oh how you want to hate Rhett Abbott. You want to hate the way he’s spent the last however many years following you around like a stray dog, poking fun at you and riling you up, just to have your attention. You want to hate the way he probably spent more time chasing boys off than your dad did. More than anything else you want to find it in you to feel something other than the way he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

“Whatever,” His voice is strained and he clears his throat before opening his eyes again, “Whatever you want, sugar. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“And if I want to get up right now, and never see you again?” You aren’t going to make this easy on him. 

Yelling at James Earl is one thing, almost beating him to a pulp is another. You can protect yourself, you’re not a damsel in distress, and above all Rhett needs to learn his place. You’re grateful he was there, you are. But you didn’t need him to go and get in trouble on your behalf.

“Now, sugar, I find it hard to believe—”

You move as if to stand up, going to remove the hand from his neck to use one of his shoulders as leverage. Before you can get far, really even one inch away from him, one of his hands is flying from your thighs to clutch at the wrist of the hand that’s leaving his throat. He holds you there, and you can feel the way his pulse is racing. He maintains the way he stares into your eyes, but this time his are wide, almost as if in fear that you’d actually get up and leave. 

“Try again.” You don’t change the way half your weight is off him, but you let him hold your wrist.

“Whatever you want, goes.” He swallows slowly before speaking again, “Will you just–Will you please sit back down?” 

He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

You ease yourself back into his lap and run your free hand in between you till you reach his erection. It sends a thrill through you to feel just how excited he is by all of this. You want to hear him say please again, you want to see how far you can push your luck with him in the palm of your hand. You want him to beg.

You laugh lightly, if not a bit cruelly, as you squeeze his cock over his jeans, “Does this turn you on, Rhett?” You pause to watch how his pupils dilate at your tone before pressing on, “Not much of a big, bad, man now, are ‘ya?”

To your surprise, that doesn’t set him off. Most men wouldn’t let you put your hand around their throat, much less question just how much of a man they are. But he barely reacts beyond his chest rising and falling, his hands moving back to fully settle on your thighs and this time, gripping tightly. 

“Like I said, whatever you want, sugar–I just want ‘ya to use me. Be good for something,” He licks his lips and exhales shakily, “Be good for you.” 

Jesus. His sincerity bleeds through in the way his face is flushed and he maintains steady eye contact. He doesn’t waver for a single moment. 

Something sick twists in your chest. Never before has a man been so willing, so pliant, for you. They’ve always tried to take what they want from you, always tried to make you submit. But what you actually wanted was this, Rhett’s eyes gazing pleadingly up at you while you sit in his lap. 

“So this is what you wanted all along, huh? Always following me around, playing pranks on me, just wanted me to get my hand around your throat and use you?” You’re goading him on, trying to discern exactly what he wants you to say, what he’ll let you get away with. 

With that, you lean close as if to kiss him and he closes his eyes lightly in anticipation, but at the last second turn your head so you can drag the tip of your nose across his cheek. The shudder that runs through him at the feather-light sensation is delicious; it makes you laugh lightly at how affected he is. His breaths are starting to come heavier, already betraying him if he tried to hide how badly he wants this. But he isn’t hiding, not in the slightest.

Now that you’re this close to him, the scent of him is overwhelming. It floods your mind and makes you almost lightheaded as you realize just how badly you want him. Part of it is that he’s so pliant, so willing, but the other part is the truth of the matter that you finally have to admit to yourself: you don’t hate Rhett Abbott. 

In fact, his whole years-long performance has only meant that his constant presence is lingering somewhere at the forefront of your mind regardless of whether he’s around or not. When you’d gone off to college, those nine months had been odd without him around. You’d half expected him to show up to walk you between lecture halls or push some frat boy off you at a party.

(What you don’t know is that Rhett did almost go out to visit you. He’d looked at plane tickets, at how long it might take him to drive. He decided against it when he remembered every time you’d rejected him or told him to, very unkindly, “fuck off”.)

“Can I kiss ‘ya?” His voice is rough and he licks his lips again, like it’s a nervous habit. 

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek and giggle softly to yourself when he whines and says, “That’s not what I meant and y’know it.”

Finally, you press your lips to his. They’re soft and warm and he’s so much better of a kisser than everyone else you’ve been with that it almost knocks the wind out of you. But he keeps you grounded, especially when his hand moves up to your jaw so he can coax it open. The way he licks into your mouth makes you let out a startled gasp. 

You don’t expect it to feel so good. It’s one thing to sit in his lap and flirt, it’s a whole other to taste him and understand why girls chase him endlessly. You can’t stop the way your hips move against his and he keeps one hand on your thigh while the other goes to your tits. His hand dwarfs your chest and he gropes you haphazardly. 

“Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined,” He sighs, pushing up against the hand that’s still around his throat. 

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off, Rhett.” You tease, wanting to see how far you can push him, see if you can still get a rise out of him.

But it seems he’s given up the fight now that you’re right where he wants you. He smiles gently as he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “I could finish in my pants like a damned teenager with you like this, sugar, doesn’t matter.”

Rhett Abbott, womanizer, absolute menace in your life, admitting that he’s got it so bad for you that he could come in his pants just from having you near him? You could’ve guessed that he wanted to fuck you, but you always thought it would be more of him getting his rocks off and letting you fend for yourself. It never would’ve occurred to you that this is how he’d be in the moment. Him admitting how weak he is for you makes your head spin.

You press yourself ever closer to him, licking into his mouth and trapping his hand between the two of you where it had been stroking your nipples through the thin fabric of your sundress. He manages to free it, though, and slides it down your side to where your thigh creases. He wraps it around you there and the the sheer size difference between his hand and your hip makes a twisted sort of want course in your veins.

The first press of his thumb against your clit through your panties sends a jolt through you. He keeps your hips moving in a steady rhythm against his as he works steady circles over your clit. His other hand won’t stay still as it runs up and down your back, rubs your nipples, yanks on the tips of your hair ever so slightly. It’s mind-numbingly filthy, the quiet of his house filled with both of your gasps and moans, your hand still on his neck. 

“Cum for me, sugar,” Then, as if he’s anticipating your chastisement, he adds, “Please.”

Your orgasm rips through you like white hot lighting as you gasp into his open mouth and he moans right along with you. You realize you’re chanting his name over and over like a prayer, completely unwittingly. He doesn’t let up with any of his movements, prolonging your pleasure til it folds into something more biting, just on the edge of overstimulating. 

“Fuck, Jesus,” He gasps, and after a moment, “I’ll be thinking ‘bout that til I die,” He rasps out, settling both of his hands on your hips and leaning his forehead against yours. 

You want to tease him about taking the Lord’s name in vain but you hold back. For a moment, it’s quiet. Your hips are still against his as you take in what just happened. It begins to dawn on you that he’s still hard under you, but he isn’t making any moves to change that. 

He starts to shift under you like he’s considering standing up but you stop him by leaning into him. 

“Ah ah, I’m not finished with you yet,” His eyes snap to yours in surprise.

“Rhett Abbott. Tellin’ me I could make you cum in your pants like a teen boy?” You lean back ever so slightly with a light snarl on your face, finally tightening your fingers to a tight grip in a way that makes his eyes glaze over, “Prove it.”

Pressing the heel of your palm into his crotch, you watch as he eyes scrunch shut and he grinds up once, twice, three times before a he releases a shaky exhale. You watch as he comes, as he pants and whines through his orgasm, the denim under your hand growing warm and wet. He doesn’t stop grinding and thrusting up against your hand til it draws a pained moan from him. 

“Can I–Can I keep going?” He tries to make eye contact but his eyes are too unfocused from pleasure, “Like it when it, ah, when it hurts.”

God, this is what you’ve been missing out on the whole time? You let yourself rock steadily in his lap as he grinds up against your hand and leans forward to kiss you messily. You wonder if he let the other girls he’s been with do this to him. But something tells you that isn’t the case–you really don’t want it to be.

The whines and gasps he’s letting out as he’s writhing below you are something from your most far-fetched fantasies. You’re only slightly stunned as you feel him get hard again below you, though it seems to draw out the pain more than the pleasure given the way his face twists up and the hiss he lets out. All at once he settles; and then he goes to lift your wrist away from his crotch. 

It’s terribly tender, the way he pulls away from you to press a kiss to the palm of your hand and smile widely at you. You almost get whiplash.

“What are you playin’ at?” You can’t help but settle back into your old ways–the Rhett Abbott you’ve known for so long has only really been around to aggravate you, the heartfelt way he’s looking at you sets you off kilter. 

When he laughs at the way you’re starting to get irritated, you try to pull your hand from his to no avail and it makes the heat rise in your face, “Knock it off, Rhett. You’re bein’ an asshole.”

But he just keeps smiling at you as he pulls your other hand off his neck so that he can place both on his shoulders and cradle your face, “You’re so beautiful.”

As if anticipating the way you’re going to react to his words, he pulls your face to his so that he can press your lips together once again. It’s nothing like before. Before it was all tongue and your lips barely meeting through the gasps and moans being pulled out of you. This time it’s something so warm, so delicate, it makes your chest hurt in a different way. 

“I hate you, Rhett Abbott,” You manage to gasp out once he pulls away fully, a sparkle in his eyes. It doesn’t have any heat to it, lacks all the rage it used to–this time, it just sounds like you might be trying to tell him you love him. 

He ignores you in favor of standing with you still in his arms and declaring, “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and go to bed.”

Somewhere between your orgasm and when he kissed you that final time, you think he might’ve figured it out too–that you don’t hate him and maybe you never have. Because you let him carry you through his dark home without protest. You let him undress you wordlessly, without fanfare and without ogling your naked form. He simply drops your soiled clothing into a laundry hamper and starts undressing himself.

You watch him strip as he turns on the shower and gestures for you to follow him in when he steps in. For just a second you stare at him, halfway in and halfway out from under the stream of water, the way he’s staring at you expectantly. 

He still has that bruise on his cheek from where James Earl hit him what feels like a lifetime ago. His knuckles are still split in some places, just turning that particular shade of red in others. He’s a goddamn vision under the yellow and white fluorescent lights of his bathroom. It makes you want to hold your breath for fear that you’ll disturb the moment somehow.

The shower proceeds without a hitch. It’s oddly lacking sexual tension, though you notice that he’s still half hard. You have half a mind to sink to your knees and suck him off, just to prove your point, just to show him you mean business. But the way he gently washes you as if he’d done it a million times before stops you. You let him clean you up between your legs without a protest.

When he opens the bathroom cabinet to reveal various creams and lotions after you’ve both stepped out and wrapped yourselves in towels, you feel yourself start to get angry. Is he seriously showing you all the products he buys for all the other girls he brings home?

Instead, he smiles sheepishly at you and rubs the back of his neck, “You always smell so good, I spent ages tryin’ to figure out which one you were usin’. Just bought all of ‘em at some point.”

You feel floored as the fight leaves your body. You don’t have a way to be upset about that. Wordlessly, you pick up one of the bottles tucked in the second row and hand it to him. 

“It’s this one.” 

The grin that spreads over his face is one of such genuine happiness it makes you want to squeal and run for the hills at the same time. You wonder distantly if he’ll ever stop making you feel like that–simultaneously like a trapped animal and like you’re the only girl he’s ever seen. You wonder if this (there’s a ‘this’?) will last long enough for you to find out.

He lends you one of his shirts and you’re pleased to find out that it does hold his smell. It sits long on you, settling around your knees, making you feel just a bit like a sexy ghost with the way it hugs your chest. He pulls on a pair of briefs before flicking off the overhead light and then throwing back the covers and patting the space next to him.

“You’re a vision for a blind man, sugar,” His voice carries through the otherwise silent room, “Now come to bed.”

It’s something out of a daydream, climbing into bed with Rhett Abbott. You’re immediately enveloped in his scent, the way his arm lays heavy around your waist and pulls you close to him. For once, you don’t fight him.

“You okay there, sugar? Been awfully quiet.” His voice is low right next to your ear before he turns away momentarily to turn off the bedside table light. His arm is back around you in an instant.

Wiggling yourself around in his arms, you turn so that the two of you are nose to nose. He smiles that smile again, the one that fills you with warmth and makes your stomach twist. There’s barely enough light from outside to really see him as your eyes adjust to the dark, but you know his face.

“I don’t think I hate you.” 

He starts laughing. It shakes his shoulders and makes the bed creak. His eyes screw up and you can feel the way his stomach moves against yours. You feel your shoulders go up by your ears and you try to pull away, embarrassed that he’s laughing.

“I’m sorry, sugar, c’mere,” He tugs you even closer to him than before, if possible, “I’m not laughin’ at you, I’m laughin’ only ‘cause I never hated you. I don’t really think you hated me either.”

“Hey!” You’re indignant, “Rhett Abbott, who’re you to tell me how I feel?”

“Alright, alright, sugar, I’ll take ‘yer word for it. My heroics do it for ‘ya?” You barely catch the way he winks at you in the dark, but it makes you want to bite him in retaliation.

“The way you almost got the snot beat outta ‘ya? Sure.” Scoffing, you turn yourself over so you’re facing away from him again, only you don’t move out of his arms. 

He huffs lightly in protest, but lets it go in favor of nuzzling into your hair and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. It sends a warm sort of heat through you. You’re not ready to fully give in to him yet, but you think he might be growing on you. You’ll just have to see.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Joy Ride

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Synopsis: When your boyfriend, Rhett, picks you up from a night out, you decide to show him how much you appreciate him on the way home.

or I just have a lot of thots about giving Rhett road head and this was the result pls enjoy (:

Word Count: ~1.7K.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI! Mentions of alcohol and drinking, smut, oral (m receiving), distracted driving?, Let me know if there’s any I’ve missed!

A/N: This is my first time posting any writing so please be kind! I’d love to hear any feedback, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated! Thank you so much for reading, I hope it’s not shit! <3 Also, I just wanna say a massive thank you to my beloved @sebsxphia for being an absolute angel and reading this through for me and encouraging me to post it, you're the best seb and I love you so much!!! <3

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*

It was nearing 2am when the ringing of Rhett’s phone pulled him out of the dozy state he’d fallen into watching a movie on the couch.

Seeing your contact photo, his sweet, shy girl in his favorite sundress and wearing his cowboy hat, had brought a tired smile to Rhett’s face.

He’d been waiting on your call. When you’d told him earlier that day that your girlfriends had invited you for a night out at a bar, Rhett was quick to offer to be your ride home.

“Oh no, Rhett, you don’t have to. I can just get an Uber home.” You’d tried to decline, not wanting to put him out, but he’d insisted. Told you to let loose and have fun catching up with your friends.

He’s more than happy to be picking you up in the middle of the night if it means he knows you’ll be getting home safe after your night of drinking. Even happier for the opportunity to just spend some time with his girl.

After only a few months of dating, Rhett’s pretty sure he’d do anything for you.

It’s now about 20 minutes since you’d called and asked him to come get you, since quickly shrugging on his jacket and hat and heading out the door, that Rhett’s parking his truck just down the road from the bar.

When you see your boyfriend walk in through the bar doors, in your drunken state, you’re up and running.

“RHETT!” Practically squealing out his name, you make a beeline towards him. Jumping into his arms, yours clumsily wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. You’re giggling and planting a big kiss on his lips as Rhett’s large hands come to cup the backs of your thighs to support you.

All the while, your friends watch on, laughing and cooing at the cuteness of the two of you. They loved seeing one of Wabang’s toughest, stoic cowboys go all soft for you, and only you.

After Rhett returns your kiss, you’re swiping the cowboy hat off his head and placing it atop your own with a grin and a glint in your glazed-over eyes.

Rhett gently places you back on the ground, chuckling at the state of you—a giggling mess, his hands on your waist to steady you.

He leans down to your height, gruff voice in your ear asking, “You ready to go, Sweetheart?”

The gravely nature of his deep voice leaves your head spinning, legs a little shakier than they already are due to the alcohol. He made your head spin more than any drink could.

It’s only after Rhett ensures that your friends have a safe way home that the two of you bid them goodnight, Rhett draping his jacket over your shoulders and leading you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back.

On the walk back to his truck, Rhett relishes in the way you’re all over him. He loves seeing you like this— your usual, slightly more reserved demeanor gone along with your inhibitions. He knows you’re probably going to go all shy on him when he lovingly teases you about it in the morning.

It’s something he’s only been witness to maybe a handful of times in the months of dating you and he finds it endearing.

The way you cling to his side, leaning up to place soft kisses to the skin of his neck, entangling your fingers with the ones of his hand that’s resting around your waist. Still giggling and whispering in his ear about how pretty you think he is.

“...so beautiful, Rhett. The prettiest cowboy, baby.”

It’s moments like these; alone on an empty street in the middle of the night, just the two of you, that Rhett doesn’t feel the need to be bashful about the blush that he knows is currently coloring his cheeks due to such affection.

After helping you into the truck and buckling you in, Rhett walks around to the driver’s side. Letting out a low chuckle as he watches you through the windows. You’re removing his cowboy hat from your head and tossing it into the backseat.

Rhett drives with a warm hand on your thigh, gently soothing it along your skin as he asks you how your night was. You grab ahold of Rhett’s hand, telling him all about the events of the evening and how fun it was to catch up with your friends.

The feel of his large, calloused palm is a sharp contrast in your smaller, softer one. You’re playing with the fingers that had been tracing along your thigh, before bringing it up to your lips to place a soft kiss to his knuckles.

In your still-slightly tipsy state, you’re thanking him for coming to get you. Telling him how much you appreciate him, how much you love him, and Rhett swears he feels his heart double in size.

The two of you had only recently made that declaration, and he still wasn’t used to how much he loved hearing you say it.

Pressing another delicate kiss to Rhett’s hand, you release it in favor of reaching over to run your hand over his lap. Cupping him through his Wranglers, your lip quirks as his hips jolt in surprise, involuntarily bucking toward your touch.

You scoot a little closer to him on the bench seat of his truck, hands working their way up to his belt buckle.

“What are you doing, Bunny?” A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as you begin to unbuckle it.

“I really appreciate you baby. Just wanna show you how much.” You implore with a voice full of need, hungrily eyeing the bulge in his jeans as you work to free his already-hardening cock.

“Honey, you don’t have to-” Rhett begins to speak, but is cut off by the hitching of his breath when your hand begins to stroke him.

Leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, you feel him twitch in your hand as he nearly swerves his truck onto the wrong side of the street. Luckily, there’s really nobody on the road at this late hour.

You lick at the beads of precum that dribble from his slit, still stroking his shaft as you take him into your mouth. Humming softly at the familiar taste of him, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure down Rhett’s spine.

He’s driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other in your hair as you eagerly suck his cock. Your warm, wet mouth taking in more of his length while your hand continues to work at the base, stroking whatever you can’t fit. He tries not to buck his hips up too much, not wanting to cause you any discomfort.

“Easy Bunny, easy.” He groans out as you take him down your throat, nearly losing his mind when he feels you gag around him. Swallowing and trying to relax your throat as you hold him there.

The feeling of the tip of your nose pressing against the curls at Rhett’s pelvis as you swallow his entire length has the both of you moaning. His aloud and yours muffled against him, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.

It’s taking Rhett everything in him to keep his focus on the road while you release him with an audible ‘pop’. A string of saliva still connecting the head of his cock and your plush lips, your hand wraps around his shaft as you give yourself a moment to breathe.

You’re placing little kitten licks to his tip while you stroke him once more, kissing your way down his length and back up again. Laving your tongue along the prominent vein that spans the underside of his cock before you take him back into your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you pick up the pace.

It’s when he’s stopped at a red light that Rhett looks down at you, wondering what the fuck he did to deserve you.

Your pretty lips wrapped around him, staring back up at him with those wide, innocent doe eyes. Mascara tears trailing down your cheeks, your fingernails digging into his denim-clad thigh.

“Fucking hell, Bunny!” With a particularly harsh suck, Rhett reaches his high with a grunt. Eyes rolling back in his head as he sends hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

You keep him in your mouth, continuing to suck him gently. Prolonging his high until he’s well and truly spent. You moan at the heady taste of him, his grip in your hair tightening, cock twitching on your tongue from the overstimulation.

When you’re certain you’ve swallowed down every last drop of cum Rhett had to offer, you release him with one final kiss to his tip, making his entire body jolt with sensitivity. His grasp on your hair going slack as you carefully tuck him back into his pants.

It’s a good thing there are no cars on the road behind you because Rhett’s frozen for a good few minutes. Eyes glazed over much like yours when he picked you up from the bar, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how long he’s sat there in such a state before you’re softly calling his name, leaning over to place a kiss to his flushed cheek.

Before you’re whispering, “Baby, the light is green...” and falling back into your seat in a fit of giggles as he fails to come back down to earth.

When Rhett’s breathing finally returns to normal, he’s grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you into a feverish kiss.

It’s hungry and full of need, Rhett groaning as he tastes himself on your tongue. Pulling quiet little whines from your throat as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth.

When Rhett pulls back, his eyes are wild. Pupils blown, barely a hint of that beautiful, crystalline blue you’ve come to love is visible.

He starts up the car again, and this time it’s you that’s left breathless. Left in a daze as he practically growls out, accent as strong as you’ve ever heard it,

“Gotta get you home so I can return the favor. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, bunny.”

...

Thank you for reading! xx

(Credit to @h0neyfire for the Rhett photos for the header (: )

Tagging a couple people I think might enjoy this <;3 @angelic-dreams13 @rhettabbotts <3

[ereardon]

Have Your Space – Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: Rhett has been dying to get out of Wabang for as long as you can remember. But when the time actually comes, the money is saved, the bags are packed, you’re crippled with fear. Fear of leaving the only place you’ve ever known. But Rhett can’t stay a minute longer, and you won’t chain him to your door. So it’s time to say goodbye, even if it breaks both of your hearts.  

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, angst, illusion to smut, alcoholism 

A/N: This is based on a fav Kacey Musgraves song of mine, Space Cowboy. All italicized lines are lyrics. 

WC: 2.2K

You look out the window while I look at you. 

“We gotta go,” Rhett says as the mountains slip by, your arm resting on the windowsill, bracelets rattling as the truck bumps down the dirt road. “Baby, we gotta get out of here.” 

“I can’t. Not yet.” Tears squeeze out of your eyes, down your cheeks, dripping onto your threadbare tank top. 

“Why not?” he demands, his voice raspy. You would know Rhett’s voice anywhere. It penetrates your dreams. His voice is your alarm, your goodnight prayer. It’s your salvation. And it’s about to be ripped away. 

“You know why,” you choke out. 

He knows. The whole town knows. It’s your grandfather, ill on his deathbed. It’s your mama, unable to make ends meet with a drunk for a husband. It’s your niece, who needs someone in her life to take care of her where a floozy of a mother and an absent father fail her. 

It’s the fact that you can trace every inch of Wabang with your eyes closed. It’s the fact that a part of you doesn’t know who you would be anywhere else. 

And that terrifies you to your core. 

Rhett is scared, too. He’s terrified. But he’s done. Done letting this town call him names. Done letting Perry and his dad dictate how he should act, what he should say, telling him he’s not good enough when you both know the truth. 

He’s better than both of them combined. He’s better than you, too. 

And that’s why he has to go. 

But roads weren’t made to not go down. And there ain’t room for both of us in this town. 

You were fifteen the first time you laid eyes on Rhett Abbott. You had heard about the local bull rider, of course you had. Even then, his reputation preceded him. You were the mousy girl in class who had never had a boyfriend. What would Rhett Abbott of all people see in you? 

But he saw something. He started to wait for you after class, offering to walk you home. One Friday night, he invited you to the rodeo and behind the bleachers he kissed you for the first time, his soft lips and rough hands smoothing over you and you felt like you might float away.

You were seventeen the first time you realized you loved Rhett Abbott. Sitting in the passenger seat of his beat up truck, listening to songs that you didn’t know the lyrics to. Pulling over and letting Rhett lay out blankets in the bed of the truck, tasting vodka for the first time as the stars glittered above you. 

And before you could even say it, Rhett said it first. “I love you,” he whispered, his blue eyes locked on yours. 

You stroked one hand down his arm, feeling the bumps and bruises from his ride the day before. “I love you, too,” you murmured and he sealed his lips over yours, slotting one thigh between your legs, leaning you back against the blankets, making you his. 

After, as you lay with his shirt wrapped around your body, sticky with sweat, he looked at you. “I want more than this place,” he said. “Come with me.” 

And boots weren’t made for sitting by the door, since you don’t wanna stay anymore. 

The bags are packed. The money is in the safe. Rhett rumbles through the door after a long day, finding you near the stove, stirring a pot of chicken and dumplings. 

“Hi darlin’,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. He smells like dirt and sweat and the sun, all things you have come to associate with Rhett. 

You stir the wooden spoon in the pot, a hand-me-down from your grandmother when you and Rhett moved into your place three years before, the silence overwhelming. 

He leans back and squints. “Baby, what is it?” 

You finally look up. Taking in how tired he looks. He’s caked in dirt, he has scratches all up and down one arm, a tear starting to form in his jeans that you know in a few weeks you’ll have to clumsily patch. 

He wants more than this. This small life. This small town. These small people. He deserves more. 

You smile tiredly. “It’s nothing. Go get cleaned up, dinner is ready.” 

Rhett watches you for a moment, eyes trailing over your face, trying to find the fault lines of the lies. But what he doesn’t know is that there are no cracks, no fissures. Because the lies are no just longer cracks along your surface. It’s the entirety. You’re lying to him. You’re lying to yourself. It’s who you are, it’s what you are. 

You are no longer the girl he fell in love with. 

He just has yet to see it. 

Well, sunsets fade, and love does too. 

“I told you she ain’t a threat!” Rhett’s voice booms. The open air is thick with humidity and you feel your small sundress sticking to your legs, your stomach, your ass, this heat makes everything stick in places you don’t want it to, especially Maria fucking Olivares. 

“Then why is she sidling up to you?” you hiss. Maria has been a thorn in the side of your relationship ever since she set her eyes on Rhett. And no matter how many times he tries to tell you he’s not interested, there’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you otherwise. 

It’s the same voice that told you he was the one. It’s the voice that tells you it’s not time to leave. 

It’s a voice you trust. 

Rhett tosses up his arms in frustration. “Darlin’, you’re going to send me to an early grave. Maria is a friend, that’s all.” He steps closer, one rough hand sliding beneath your chin, tipping your eyes toward his. “Do you trust me?” 

Saying I don’t know would be like saying that the sky ain’t blue. 

“That Abbott boy ain’t gonna take you anywhere except a dirt hole next to your granddad.” 

You turn, eyes wide and burning. “Don’t say that.” 

Your father tips back in his recliner, so many stains mixed in with the brown fabric that it looks like a pattern. He lights a cigarette, fiery ember practically staring you in the face. “You’re gonna end up just like your mama,” he croaks. “Knocked up and stuck.” 

You tighten your fists together at your side. You had just broken your one rule. Never tell your father anything. He was known to kill hope, along with liver cells.

His water eyes search yours. “You ain’t getting out of here, princess. None of us are.” 

Yeah, we had our day in the sun.

The sun is hot on your bare skin. You and Rhett spent the morning swimming in the lake. The warm July sun scorches your exposed skin but you don’t care. 

It’s hard to care for anything more than what’s in front of you, when what’s in front of you is Rhett, a hat tipped over his face, his naked body spread out on a towel, muscular arms crossed over his bare chest. 

You lean down, pressing your lips to his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

He removes his hat, turns to you with a smile. 

“Wish everyday was like this,” you say softly. 

“It could be,” Rhett murmurs, voice deep and gruff, sending shivers down your spine. How could one person be so perfect? 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let’s get out of here,” he says and it’s the first time he’s brought it up. But the idea has been bubbling at the surface for him for a while. Perhaps forever. He wants more than this. 

He wants it all with you. 

Rhett props himself up on his side, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m saving up,” he confesses and it feels like chains dropping off of his limbs, confiding in you. “Doing the rodeo circuit until I make enough money for the both of us.” 

“To do what?” 

“Leave,” he says. “Get out of here. Start fresh. Somewhere where they don’t know me or my family. Somewhere where I can do something important.” 

“You can do important things here.” You think of your family, your friends, your burdens. You had never thought about what it would be like to leave Wabang. It had never been an option. 

Rhett shakes his head, grabs your hand, kisses the back of it softly. “Nothing here for me, but you. So let’s go. Let’s get out, while we still can.” 

Shoulda learned from the movies that good guys don’t run away. 

“It ain’t running,” Rhett corrects. “It’s leaving. They’re different.” 

“Feels the same,” you say, folding your clothes, but it feels like your arms are underwater and you’re struggling against the current. 

“It’s not.” 

You look up. Rhett’s bag is packed. On his left hand, the new gold band glints in the afternoon sun that streams through the window. The gold is yet unmarred, no weathered scratches. Your thumb automatically reaches down to trace the edge of your matching ring, the feeling still foreign. 

The finger feels pinched even though the jeweler assured you it was the right size. Maybe it’s not the ring that feels cloying. 

“What about Amy?” you ask. He looks up, stunned. She’s his Achilles heel and you know it. 

His face contorts in pain. “Don’t bring her into this.” 

“That’s inevitable, Rhett,” you cry. “Can’t you see? We’re leaving a hole and everyone in our lives is going to fall into it.” 

“They’ll be fine,” he assures you. 

“What if we stay?” you ask softly. 

Rhett’s face goes stone cold. “Then I’ll be the one falling into the hole,” he says. 

I know my place and it ain’t with you. 

Rhett thinks you’re asleep but how could you be? You’re lying on your side, eyes closed, as his side of the bed jiggles, the familiar wobble of the crappy mattress as he rolls out of bed, feet stamping onto the hardwood floor. A sliver of light illuminates the room and then it’s gone the moment he closes the door behind him. 

You wait a few minutes before sitting up, trailing after him. 

You know, before you even make your way through the house, that he’s outside sitting on his rocking chair, looking out over the green lawn. As you stand at the door, watching him, tears fill your eyes. 

His left arm is in a cast, only fingers visible beneath the white netting. It was a hard ride. A bad one. 

Usually on bad nights like tonight, you would take care of him. Help him shower, rinse off the dirt, sit down as he eats whatever warm meal you left for him in the oven. Take him to bed, press your lips to every bump and bruise on his skin, real or imagined, kiss away the pain, hold him as he falls asleep. 

Tonight, he came home to find you already in bed, room shrouded in darkness. No food waiting on the warmer. 

You both knew. Tonight was his last ride. Tomorrow was meant to be the start of it all. 

It would be the start of something. Just not what Rhett wanted. 

Rhett turns, just as you’re about to retreat from the window. He catches your eyes and suddenly you’re frozen, rooted in place. He knows. You both know. 

I’ll see you around again. 

Morning sun streams through the curtains but you’re already awake. 

The bags are packed, the bathroom cabinets are half cleared. The mudroom is suspiciously empty of coveralls and dirty boots and ripped shirts. 

You sit up, drag yourself out of bed, look at the reflection in the mirror. Who is she? 

Outside, Rhett sits on the edge of his truck bumper, head hung low. The familiar squeak of the screen door – he promised to fix it and never did – forces Rhett to look up. 

“Sugar?” he says softly. 

You step closer until you’re pulled into his orbit. His hands on your waist, pressing firmly against your shirt, his t-shirt, that hangs on your frame, legs bare. You raise your eyes to him. “Rhett.” 

“I love you, darlin’.” 

“I know.” 

Neither of you says anything as he presses his lips to your forehead and you back away, Rhett stepping forward, pulling open the driver’s door, sliding inside, rough hands gripping the wheel.  

Go on ride away, in your Silverado. 

He looks in the rearview mirror. You stand with your hand covering your mouth, unable to say goodbye. Rhett notices that your finger is bare, the gold band that once constricted your finger lying at the bottom of his now empty sock drawer. 

He tugs the truck into drive. He holds his breath, thinking the taillights might wake you up. He waits and hopes that you’ll change your mind, shake your head, jog forward, say you made a mistake, say you want to go, say you don’t need space, say all you need is him. 

But you don’t. 

He lets out his breath and drives toward the sun. 

You can have your space, Cowboy.

Tag list/people I think might enjoy this:

@bobfloydsbabe @wkndwlff @double-j @momc95 @sadpetalsstuff @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @writercole @coffeeandcuriosities @xoxabs88xox @xomrsalliej4787xo @iangiemae @djs8891 @rosiahills22

@a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @blue-aconite @fudge13 @avengers-fixation @valkyrja-siren-blog @callsign-joyride @beyondthesefourwalls @mandylove1000 @callsign-magnolia @yanna-banana

[roosterbruiser]

Millie, would love Rhett and a nerdy!reader kissing for the first time after Rhett realizes she had a huge crush on him in high school

Thanks for the slumber party!

when you saw Rhett at the bar on your third night back in Wabang, you were surprised. not surprised that he was there, at the bar, but surprised that he had aged like a fine wine. cowboy hat intact, body sinewy and tanned from ranch work, scruff across his cheeks.

keen to just smile at him and wave across the room at your longest crush, you were surprised when he suddenly caught your gaze and did a double-take.

abandoning Perry altogether, Rhett monied across the room, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a lazy smile.

"hey, you!" he said, chipper as ever. "god, I ain't seen you in years! how you been, honey?"

and then he was pulling you into a flannel-scented hug, overwhelming you entirely.

it wasn't even that he was mean to you in high school. but you were the kind of girl who studied in the library, sat at the front of the class, and got early acceptance letters from a handful of colleges. Rhett, on the other hand, was less studious than you were. the kinda boy that smoked in the courtyard and lounged in the back of class, only engaging when it was forced out of him.

"I'm-i'm good! you?" you asked, grinning, trying to control your rapid heartbeat.

Rhett pulled back and drank you in, your glittering eyes and your manicured nails and those glasses that he's always liked perched on your nose.

"better now," he told you. "god, what's it been? like, five-six years?"

still awestruck, you nod.

"somethin' like that."

Rhett chewed his lip for a moment, glancing back over at where he left Perry standing.

"you wanna drink with me?" he asks. "c'mon. my treat?"

the two of you have been dancing around it all night long.

sitting across from each other in this smoky bar, more than a few beers shared between the two of you, leaning in close to each other because the crowd's getting rowdier (but really because you can't get enough of that deeply masculine scent that is thick on his pulse points and he keeps getting butterflies when he gets a waft of your shampoo).

as the night has dragged on, Rhett's cheeks rosier than ever and your laugh growing louder, Rhett finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from your lips. they're so beautiful--wet and painted with a lipstick that's steadily been wearing off all night, molding around your teeth as you beam at him.

"how'd I miss you in high school?" he asks, brows furrowed.

you nearly choke on your beer, brows furrowing. resting the glass on the table, you tilt your head at him.

"what d'you mean?" you ask, voice soft. "you didn't miss me in high school. we had algebra together!"

Rhett nods, leaning back against the booth and crossing his arms.

"I's too busy passin' notes in algebra," Rhett admits somewhat coyly, scratching the back of his neck. "didn't learn anythin'."

"on the contrary, I never passed notes in algebra," you smile softly. "and I sure didn't miss you, Rhett."

Rhett's brows flick upwards in surprise. you're a bit embarrassed at this fact--but only for a moment. suddenly, Rhett is gathering one of the white napkins on the table and plucking one of the little pencils that's been forgotten there after trivia night.

"what're you doin'?" you ask, nose wrinkled in amusement.

"writin' you a note," he says. he glances up at you, catches your gaze on the napkin. protectively, he wraps an arm around it and raises his brows at you. "no peekin'."

"sorry," you laugh, flushing.

he writes for only a few moments, gazing down at his scrawl before he slides the napkin face-down across the table. then he leans back, swallows hard, and watches you carefully.

you're not sure what to expect, really. maybe his number. maybe just a simple hi. but when you turn the napkin over, it nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs.

can I kiss you?

-Rhett

he watches you read it with his lip tucked between his teeth. he's a little fuzzy around the edges, a little drunk on beer and a lot drunk on you. but then you're looking back up at him, pupils blown, smile dying.

"yeah," you say, voice thin.

he moves first, leaning forward across the table, cupping your cheek with a rough hand. every breath you breathe fans out across his bottom lip and he shivers, nuzzling his nose against yours.

and honestly, you've dreamed of this before. locking lips with Rhett Abbott in his shitty pickup truck or under the bleachers after a football game, tasting all that tobacco and oak on his lips. digging your fingers into the skin of his shoulders, hearing your name tumble off his lips in a moment of utter rapture.

he grazes your bottom lip with his thumb, then very gingerly pinches your chin and closes the distance between your mouths. he tastes like beer and so do you, but there is something distinctly sweet there, too. something that is not a flavor so much as a feeling, a promise.

and when you pull back finally, face hot, he peppers a couple more kisses around your pretty mouth.

"wanna know somethin'?" you ask, eyes slipped shut.

"I do," he whispers.

"I've been waitin' on you to kiss me since high school."

he chuckles, kisses you again.

"should've done it sooner," he tells you. "my apologies."

when you walk out of the bar later that night, arms hooked together, you're wearing his hat and he's donning your glasses.

[sweetlittlegingy]

Burning House

♤ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Blue Jeans Masterlist

♤ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Y/n "Tilly" Tillerson

♤ Word Count: 6.3K

♤ Warnings: Smut 18+, family fighting, reader gets hit (not by Rhett), angst, fluff

♤ A/n: I haven't written smut in years, so let me know. Also, I'm 30 minutes late, but this week has been a lot. Also, you are responsible for your own content consumption. This is an 18+ fic, please respect that.

♤ Library | Main Masterlist

The shatter of glass pulls you from your thoughts, a reminder of where you were. Thrown once again into the fire. Tugging your jeans the rest of the way up, you button the brass button. The tank top you’re wearing sticks to you like a second skin, in the hot Wyoming weather.

Yanking it off you grab an old Coors shirt, slipping it over you frame, before reaching down to tug on your boots. Mud flicks off on to the carpet, making you roll your eyes, you’d have to clean it before your mother saw.

You hadn’t been home in almost four years, leaving Wabang in the dust when you got accepted to Montana State to pursue a degree in business.

Montana had been your number one choice in schools for two reasons; it was out of state away from family, and it was still close enough that Rhett could drive down. It’d been at least 8 months since you’d last seen him, to say you were wound tight was an understatement.

The harsh reality of your father getting sick and you having to come home was thrown into your face, not even a week ago. Your mother made it quite clear, that whether you wanted to or not, you would be coming home with her.

Growing up as the youngest Tillerson, and a girl at that, hadn’t been an easy feat. The constant reminder that you would never fully be in control of your life, not while being a part of this family at least.

Luke and Billy were fine, as fine as they could be. Luke was so far up your mother’s ass, that you were surprised he could even function when she wasn’t around. While Billy was completely brainwashed by your father.

Though you would have happily dealt with them over your father and Trevor. Those two had tempers and matched against your own; the state of your life had been on fire for as long as you could remember.

The three of your tempers flaring at every incident, ended in more fist fights than you could remember, and the list of broken items was never ending. Fuel was just added to the fire when your mom was home, having all four of you in the same room always ended with Sheriff Joy, coming out on calls of domestic disturbances.

A quick look in the mirror, you double-check your makeup and hair and decide that you're more than hot enough to make a surprise appearance at the Handsome Gambler. Another crash has you looking back at your door, silently wondering what the hell was wrong now. Pulling open your bedroom door, you can hear the yelling voices of Luke and Trevor. Forgoing your hat for the night, you make your way to the den.

There was only one hat that you be wearing tonight, come hell or high water it would be yours.

Both voices raise, nearly scream, when suddenly a third voice cuts through causing you to pause your descent down the stairs.

“What she wants doesn’t matter, damn it.” A rough cough rises from your father’s chest, “She doesn’t even know what the hell’s going on, if you two idiots could keep your voice down.”

You mind races, trying to think of anything they could be talking about. Though you come up blank, having been gone you hadn’t worried about your father and brothers.

What in the hell could be so important that they needed to keep it from you? Staying on the stairs, out of sight you wait for them to go on.

“She’s gonna find out, I’m surprised Rhett hasn’t already told her. Abbott doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut.” You’d known that was Luke, his voice not rough like your fathers and Trevor’s. 

Though you couldn’t figure out why in the world they were talking about you and Rhett. It had been years since they’d seen the two of you together and there was no way they knew the two of you were still a thing.

The two of you grew up together, best friends since you were children. You knew every part of each other, sharing your deepest secrets, and eventually an unbreakable love. Puberty had hit the both of you like a fright train, leading to you two fucking in every pasture between his and your house. Fucking; eventually turned into more, friends falling in love hard and fast.

You’d officially been together three years when you graduated, though your story tale came to a sudden halt when you received your acceptance letter. With you moving and Rhett actively pursuing bull riding, the both of you had decided to end your relationship.

The both of you left it on good terms, and Rhett still came up to Bozeman, the six-hour drive nothing compared to trips he made on the circuit. You hadn’t told Rhett that you were coming home, the spur of the moment decision made by your mother prevented it, but you knew he’d be out tonight.

No longer giving a shit if they saw you, you make your way down the stairs. Their talking cutting off completely when you came into view, your brothers and father staring holes into your head as you push through the den into the kitchen.

“Don’t stop talking on my account.” The snap in your voice is evident.

The four sets of eyes following your every move, still not talking, as you dig around in the key jar.

“What are you doing?” It’s Trevor that speaks up first, his tone already pissy.

“What’s it look like?” You throw him a look over your shoulder, your gaze condensing in every way. His gaze back is still questioning, and you wonder if he truly is an idiot.

“I’m getting the fucking keys Trevor.”

A smile graces your face as you find the set to your father’s new pickup, the one he hadn’t been able to drive since he’d gotten sick. You raise your hand in triumph showing them, and silently waiting for the pushback.

“Where do you think that you're going?” This time it’s Luke that questions you, his tone less sharp not wanting to set off your temper.

Luke had learned over the years what buttons not to push, while Trevor knew exactly which one to push. It was like he thrived off the idea of making you mad, to see just how much you’d blow up.

“I’m not going to just sit around; I don’t really feel like listening to ya’ll fight. Mom might have forced me back, but she didn’t say I had to stay on the ranch.” Your eyebrow slightly raises “I’m going for a drink.”

Before you can turn to leave, a harsh, forced laugh falls from Trevor’s lips.

“When did you turn into such a fucking bitch? Saying that mom forced you here, like this ranch isn’t the thing that’s given you everything.”

Your jaw ached from how tightly you’d clenched it, all of them just staring at you. No words to defend you, you hadn’t expected it, but it would have been a nice surprise.

Trevor might have been right about your childhood. Getting everything you wanted, it wasn’t like you asked for it, it was just there. The exact way it was for each of your brothers, the only difference is that you left, and when you left so did daddy’s money.

Sure, you could have asked, begged, but you didn’t need it. You maintained a job with a company up in Bozeman, that paid you more than enough to live and the thought to being debited to this place, was enough for you to live on a smaller means.

“Unlike you Trevor, I no longer live off Daddy’s money. Though since I’m being forced to stay here, I will be taking liberties. The first on being, using the damn pickup.” The rattle you made with the keys, finally setting him off.

You’d said the wrong thing before, but the fire in Trevor’s eyes hadn’t been one you’d personally seen. Before you can make a move for the door, he was on you, the whip of your head and crack of the back of his hand on your face echoing through the kitchen.

Silent rage, you couldn’t feel the pain. The heaving of your chest should have been notion enough that you were pissed. It’s not till you feel the blood running down your lip, that you realize he’d done damage.

Sure, Trevor and your father had hurt you before, but it had been a long time since they had struck you on the face. You raise your hand up, still clutching the keys and brush your fingers over you lip. The blood smears as you do, feeling an evident spilt and swelling.

No one moves, Trevor stands just in front of you, while the other three don’t do so much as comment.

The harsh laugh that falls from your lips, should scare them. You never wanted to see a pissed off woman laugh, that was common sense, but to see a pissed off Tillerson woman laughing.

They should have been running.

Acting on pure instinct your fist reals back, flying at Trevor before anyone can react. The resounding crack of his nose brings you joy, his figure doubling over sightly. Your fist already rising back, ready to maim him. You’d seen bright red and you didn’t want to stop, not when he was the one doubled over in pain.

It’s only the feeling of Luke wrapping his arms around your waist, and dragging you back from Trevor that makes you stop.

“Calm down, damn it.” It’s your father that yells, the four of your gazes snapping directly to him.

Your lips curl back in disgust, of course it wasn’t an issue if you were the one bleeding. Oh, but if anyone touches poor Trevor, the fucking world was ending.

You scoff, shaking Luke off and double check that you still have your keys. Grabbing your purse, that had fallen, you move to leave, leaning into Trevor as he tries to stop the bleeding.

Your voice as sharp as a knife, “I’m not little anymore Trev. You touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

Pushing past him ,you brush off your shirt noticing that drops of blood had collected on it. Cursing you brother once again, you head out the door, only offering Billy a goodbye.

Walking to the truck, you can’t stop the smirk that rises on your lips. You were ready to get absolutely hammered and fall into Rhett’s bed in a tangle of limbs.

Not caring that it’s your father’s truck, or that it was in fact brand new, you peel out the drive gravel flying. Your fingers beat along the steering wheel, music blasting and windows down.

Flicking down the visor you silently thank your father, you didn’t smoke normally, but occasionally you’d light one up. Flipping open the box of Marlboro’s, you slip one between your lips. Grabbing the lighter in the cup holder, the sweet relief the nicotine gives you instantly calms your jittery limbs.

The cigarette only just brushes against the left side of your bottom lip and has you wincing, the pain finally setting in. You’d need a stiff drink to take that edge off, the glowing neon sign of the Handsome Gambler a welcomed sight.

You’d checked your lip in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the swelling and taking a wet napkin to your chin, removing the dried blood. The music can be heard before you even make it to the door, upon opening it, it increases ten-folds. Rumbling through your body and instantly soothing you. The red glowing neon of the bar was a tad obnoxious but wasn’t unbearable.

The click of your boots draw eyes to you instantly, though the only set you're looking for sits at the end of the bar. Leaning over a glass of whiskey, unfazed by his surroundings.

You don’t take time to acknowledged anyone else, your sights set and your feet carrying you without another thought in the world.

He doesn’t notice you leaning on the bar next to him, surely overthinking his last ride, and it isn’t until you grab the hat off his head that you get his attention. You’re sure that bar goes silent as the hat settles on your head, a familiar piece; one you’ve worn on many occasions.

Your hand is reaching for his whiskey before he can even comprehend that it’s you. Shooting the drink back, you rest the glass once again between his fingers and let your eyes finally meet his.

Wonder and questioning cross his face. His eyes going to your lip and your positive you see a flash of rage, before his eyes move to the hat on your head and a smug smirk settles on his lips.

“You know there’s a certain rule about stealing a cowboys hat Tilly?”

His nickname for you falling from his lip, nearly has you melting into a puddle on the ground, but you hold strong.

A hum and a nod of your head is the only recognition you given him, before moving to him. His legs opening for you like muscle memory, and your arms lacing around his neck. Your mouth resting just inches from his ear, your breath hot against him.

“And I fully intend on cashing in on those rules tonight, Abbott.”

The way his grip tightens on your waist has your toes curling in anticipation, the burning in your core igniting now that Rhett’s within your hold. Your eyes meet his and your breath catches, the blue of his eyes no longer visible. His pupils blown, watching your every move, and full of want.

It’s his hand that comes up and knocks the brim of his hat up, his eyes taking in the way your lips part as tiny soft pants fall from them.

Every time, it was like this. Like no time had passed since the last time your trembling form was under him. The way that your body became putty in his hands would have been annoying, if you didn’t like it so damn much.

No, those hands and his mouth were a God sent you were sure, or maybe hell sent. Given the way they could have you trembling like a leaf and Rhett’s name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your lip slips between your teeth, gently biting it, not caring any longer about the cut. Your stare is unwavering, neither of you paying mind to the bar surrounding you and you can’t deny the way your body craves him.

The whiskey you shot earlier didn’t come close to warming you up like he did, as his hands leave a trail of flames in their wake gently rub up your sides.

“You that needy, you have to come down here to me? Nobody work you over like me, hmm Tilly.”

You know he’ll question you later, want to know the full story. But it’s the fact that he knows just what you need to hear, the need to forget all the shit, that has you wanting to crawl up into his lap.

“No baby, I came cause I heard you needed me.”

Your hands slip into the hair at the base of his neck, lightly scratching and he can’t hide the shiver that slips up the base of his spine.

“Heard none of the bunnies could take you like I can. They're just too breakable for you.”

The tension has the both of you leaning in closer to each other, waiting for the other one to beg. You can feel Rhett’s breath hot against your lips, just barley touching, though not nearly like how you’re craving him. The need to have him flush against you, making your legs shake as tears run down your face.

Rhett caves just barely, his tongue slipping out and licking at your bottom lip. Swiping over the cut, a stinging jolt of pain and need courses through your veins. The moan that erupts from your chest, makes him smirk and pull you closer to him.  Your thigh barley nudging the front of his pants, his cock hard and pulsing against the thick denim.

Glancing down, the imprint against his jeans has your core clenching and a tiny whine coming from your throat. A chuckle falls his lips, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You that needy, girl?”

Your head is nodding before you can even think to stop it. The need to be owned by Rhett, out-weighting your usually independent nature. He knew it, he always did. It was one of his favorite things about you; how you were a spitfire to anyone else, but when he pushed just right, you’d be on your knees.

The closeness in proximity to each other, leaves no room for outside interference.

You hadn’t seen her coming back from the bathroom, in her barley there shorts, and trashy boots. Though the whiny voice stating Rhett’s name pulls your gaze to the girl standing next to you.

Rhett’s vision never leaves your face, waiting to see how you’d react. He always loved to see you get territorial, and had a habit of forgetting to tell you about other girls hitting on him at the bar.

Your eyes rack up her form, your head tilling to the side as you take in her appearance. Looking back the Rhett, you see him shrug his shoulders, silently telling you to handle it.

Turning to her, the smile dropping from your face, “He’s got his hands full bunny.”

The hands once on your waist, slip down to grab your ass. Giving it a harsh squeeze, that has your legs clenching.

“I already claimed him for the night.” Her tone bitter, acting like she has made some miraculous point.

Your jaw ticks at her stupidity and the fact that she thinks that she has some claim over him.

The only person that had a claim over Rhett Abbott was you, and it always would be you.

Turning to full face her, Rhett’s hands settling on your hips, hands sneaking under your shirt.

“No bunny, you didn’t.” The tone of your voice is sharp and you’re sure the once loud bar has gone silent.

“For one, he’s a person, not an object, and “claims” can’t be made over him.” You take a step closer to her, your gaze unwavering. “Though if anyone has a claim over him, it’s me and this damn hat proves it.”

The flick of your finger against the hat, has her eyes rising to the hat resting on your head. Her eyes find yours again, and you can see the gears trying to turn in her head. Just as her mouth opens to say something; you’re quick to shut her up.

“I think you’d better leave bunny, unless you wanna find out just how I got the split lip.”

Her eyes flicker to your lip then back to your eyes, fire burning behind your gaze, and you watch as she realizes how serious you are. Her face falling and a slight fear crosses her eyes before she’s turning and walking away.

You turn back around to Rhett, a smug smirk resting on his lip. A new hunger burns in his eyes as he watches you and his hands slide back down to grab your ass.

“You put a claim on me girl?”

“I’ve had a claim on you, since that first time you fucked me behind the church.”

You can see the memory flashing through his mind, and before you realize it, he’s up and pulling you out of the bar to his pickup.

Your back hits the passenger door of his pick, your gazes watching one another. It’s you that sneaks up a hand around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. Not caring that you were the one to break this time, all you knew was that you needed Rhett like you needed air to breathe.

The clash of your lips against one another, stings slightly against your split lip, but the way Rhett’s leg slots between your knees has you forgetting.

It’s when Rhett nips at your bottom lip that has you cursing. Rhett’s fast to pull back, his eyes dropping to your lip and that anger from earlier reappears.

“Who the fuck did it?” the question leaves no room for you to evade it. Trapped within his arms and his hard gaze.

��Trevor.” His name taste like acid on your tongue and your sure Rhett doesn’t miss the way your grimace.

The hands at your hip tighten, surely causing bruises, and your hands drop to rub Rhett’s shoulders. A silent gesture from you, telling him that you’re okay.  

“I’ll fucking kill him.” And the heat between you is forgotten by him. The only thing incasing him now, was his anger aimed directly at your brother.

Rhett feels the way his breath picks up, he knew that your family was a bunch of assholes and that you all fought religiously. Hell, he’d been there for a few of them when you were both still in high school.

But to hear that Trevor had physically put his hands on you, set off something entirely new within him.

He doesn’t hear you; a ringing has started in his ears, and he can’t stop the replaying imagery in his mind of Trevor hitting you. He’s making his way around the pick-up and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Tilly get in.” His voice is harsh and has you climbing in quickly.

Before you know it, he’s pulling from the parking spot and heading back towards both of your homes.

“Rhett what are you thinking?” though you don’t receive an answer, the sound of gravel underneath the tire’s echoes through the cab.

You can see the steam rolling off him and though you should be scared, you know that Rhett would never hurt you. The split in the road ahead is looming, one to the Abbott Ranch and the other to your families.

Looking over to Rhett you can see his hands shaking in rage. Reaching over you take one of his hands from the steering wheel and hold it against your lips. Giving his knuckles repeated kisses, as his gaze settles on your face.

“Pull over baby.” Your voice is soft and not demanding, though you know that Rhett will listen to your gentle request.

The truck stops in the middle of the road, and you can see a storm rising up against the mountains. Much like the one that is clearly racking through Rhett’s mind, he’s eyes look back to your eyes, watching the way you continually kiss his knuckles.

A shuttered breath leaves his lips, and his head is bowing down into his chest. His voice quiet, but you still hear him.

“He hit you.” The shake and pain in his voice is clear as day. “He put his fucking hands on you, and they did nothing.”

His face snaps to you, as you go to correct him, words failing you. His gaze proves that he already knows the truth.

“Okay, so they did nothing. What’s new?” The laugh that leaves you is more strained than you planned, “I got a good hit in though, think I broke his nose.”

Rhett watches you as you tell him, a chuckle leaves his lips at your comment. The hand you’d been kissing, raising to brush against your cheek.

“My Girl.”

Such wonder and love in his tone, his eyes showing nothing but pride in you. The feeling rattles you to your core. You and Rhett had broken things off, but that didn’t mean you stopped loving him.

The look he’s giving you, makes it seem like he still loved you too. You’re up and climbing across the truck before you can seconded guess the decision.  

Climbing over into his lap, needing to be next to him, to feel him and know that he was with you.

He welcomes you, grabbing your hips to settle your thighs on either side of his lap. One hand coming to rest on your cheek, grazing the split in your lip once again.

“He deserves so much more than just a fucking broken nose.” You nuzzle into his palm, placing kisses into it.

“And you would have killed him without a seconded thought?” Your laugh is silenced, as Rhett straightens your face to look at him.

“I’d burn the fucking world to the ground for you Tilly.” The way he says it, causes your core to clench.

A commandment of love, without actually saying the words.

You know that he would, but hearing the rasp and seriousness in his voice, made you feel like you were about to combust.

Your lips surge forward, kissing him in the only way you know how to express your feelings. You needed him and you didn’t care if you were in the middle of a public road. You needed him to quench the burning in your core. To make you scream his name, to feel his length hit that spongy little spot that only he reached.

Your need for him, drowning out the pain in your lip.

Your teeth clashed against one another, Rhett’s hand rising up to knock the hat off your head.  His hand settling at the back of your hair, pulling you down harder into him. His hip bucking slightly as you grind down against his hard length, pressing into you through the two layers of denim.

The harsh tug on your hair has your head dropping back and an airy moan falling from your lips. Rhett’s lips trail down your neck, wet open mouth kisses left in his wake.

You’d missed this, the way that only he knew your body.

And just like every time, his lips settle over the junction of your neck and collarbone, teasing and biting the spot.

Your hips push down harder, your core burning with need, his lips never leave your neck. Marking you as his own. No one would question if you were together by the end of the night, he was gonna make sure of it.

It’s the nip of his teeth, that has you let out a loud moan, and your hips moving on their own accord. His hands falling to your ass, pushing, and pulling you.  

“Atta girl, let me hear you.”

A whine breaks through your lips at the praise, keening in delight. The cab of the truck getting entirely too hot, and Rhett’s hands find the bottom of your shirt tugging it over your head.

Your lips finding each other again, tastes of whiskey and mint reach your lips, your tongue teasing his bottom lip.

His hands grasping and running over your unclothed top, hands slipping behind you and flicking the clasp of your bra.

Your eyes meet each other, time slowing. Your hands hold your bra in place, Rhett’s hands raising to trace your arms. His fingers slipping into the straps, to tug them down softy. His mouth descending to your collarbone, kissing over the tops of your breast.

Your back arches, your hips lifting slightly, chasing his tongue. He laughs at you softy, before striping your bra completely from your body.

A low groan leaves his lips, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” His hand rising to cup one breast, thumb grazing your nipple. A shiver consumes your body, as your nipple erects in the cool air. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

He smirks at you, a teasing look that has you whining and your hands pulling his head down.

“So fuckin’ needy.”

The only reply falling from your lips is a moan, as his lips wrap around the bud. His other hand coming up to tug on the other. Your hands raking through his hair, tugging him forward, the tug of his teeth on you makes your head drop back. Your eyes falling shut, enjoying the way Rhett encompasses you.

He works your body over, still full clothed in front of you, and yet has you begging for release.

Quiet pleas fall from your lips, your need consuming every inch of your body.

“Please. Need it, Rhett. Need you.”

His hips buck up into you, and a high-pitched whine leaves you. Your hands moving to paw at his shirt, the need to feel him, is the only thought coursing through your mind.

You try to unbutton his shirt, but you can’t seem to process it. An upset whine from you, has Rhett’s hands replacing yours, getting the shirt off far quicker than you could.

Your hands falling to trace along his stomach, a smile gracing your lips, and you’re leaning in to kiss him.

Pressing into to him, needing the feel of his skin pressed against your own. The kiss far more than just that, Rhett’s hands rising to cradle your face, and, in that moment, you know you can’t leave him again.

He was as much a part of you, as your need to breath. Without him; it was like you’d been under water, your surrounding muffled. Being back; was like you were experiencing the world again, like you’d been gasping for air, and he was that first breath.

“Need you, Tilly.” The hand cradling your face, has his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. Gently tugging it down, you nipping as his thumb, your gaze never leaving one another.

“Let me have you.” The look in his eyes, pleading for you. Not for just a fuck; but you, wholly.

“I’m yours, Abbott.” Kissing him softy, leaning back to mutter against his lips. “Only ever been yours.”

He sucks in a harsh breath, his eyes watching you, silently questioning you. Waiting for you to laugh in his face, to tell him you didn’t mean it.

“I’m serious Rhett, —” Your voice cracks slightly as you watch him, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through your body. “I — I’m not leaving you again. I can’t.”

You're afraid that tears might fall, the events of the night weighing on you. You know that Rhett loves you, you don’t need to hear it, he’d showed you how he did your whole life.

“I love you so fuckin’ much Tilly, never been anyone else. Not even with you gone.” Your breath is sucked from your chest when he mutters it. Your eyes shocked and questioning. “No one else baby, not even the bunnies.”

The revelation has you surging forward in need, finding out that he had always been yours, sets your skin a flame. Your hands fall to this belt buckle, tugging it undone, as he works at your jeans. The both of you curse as Rhett gets your jeans unzipped, but can’t lower them down your legs. You rise up, ripping them and your panties down your legs, and throwing them into the back of the truck.

Rhett laughs as you do it, your friendship and teasing spilling through the tension momentarily.

“Don’t laugh a me.” Your voice is teasing as you say it, loving the ways his laugh is so carefree. “Now get those off.” You motion to his jeans, more than ready to feel all of him against you.

“Yes Ma’am.”

He pulls them down quickly; a groan leaving his lips at his hard cock snaps up to rest against his tone stomach. The tip red and dripping with precum, your hand reaching out to stroke him.

His length pulses in your palm and you can’t stop the way you bite your lip. The need to taste him overwhelming; the need to have him groaning under your touch.  

His eyes move down to glance at your dripping heat, his hands reaching out to grab you instantly. Fingers tracing down your hip bones and up your thighs, teasing you, your cunt clenching down in anticipation.

“Touch me, please Rhett.”

As the last syllable of his name leaves your lips, his fingers ghost along your slit. Slipping into you slightly, then pulling out to graze your clit. Your hips buck as he does it.

Rhett’s other hand comes up to rest on your hip, holding you in place.

“Hold still.” The bite in his tone pulls at your core, his eyes watching your reaction. Gaging just how far he can push you, and when you bite your lip, his hold on you tightens a bit more.

“You gonna be my good girl?”

The way your eyes snap up to him, slightly glazed over, and the hurried nod you give him, makes him let out a low groan.

His fingers slipping back into your tight channel, nudging that spongy little spot, barely grazing it. Your hips drop farther onto his lap, working to feel him just a bit deeper and when they don’t, you’re crying out.

“Need your cock.” The burning in your core insufferable; and making your mind hazy.

“Take it darlin’.” His nose nudges against your own, lips barley touching.

“Take what’s yours, baby.”

Heat surrounds you, your mind lost in need, and you’re moving to hover over his cock as he finishes the sentence. Your mind only clearing up slightly, looking up into his eyes.

“There’s never been anyone else for me either.”

And you’re sinking down around him.

Those eight months apart, make it feel like he might break you. Your legs tremble, your heat stretching and you’re cursing out.

Your head drops back as a gasp falls from your lips. His cock hitting that little spot perfectly. Too deep, but not deep enough.

A string of breathy whines fall from your lips, and Rhett swears you’ve never looked prettier.

Eye’s glazed over, lips unable to form words, so fucked out, and all you’ve done it sit on his cock.

His hips buck up just sightly, and you’re dropping forward leaning against his chest, mumbling incoherently.

“So, fucking tight for me baby.” His hips buck once more, enjoying the reaction from you. Like his cock has broken your mind, leaving you to be his perfect little doll. “Such a good pussy baby.”

The praise has you keening against his chest, your hips rising up slightly, before dropping back down. Your heat clenching around him, like a vice, his own head dropping back to rest against the seat.

“That’s it baby, take what you need.”

His words spur you on, hands resting on his shoulders as your repeatedly rise and fall on his length. Your hands move to the back of his hair and pull him forward. Needing to feel his lips on you, the pace of your hips speed up.

The burning in your core only rising. Mouths barely touching each other, as breathy whines fall from your lips, working to keep yourself upright.

A particular hard thrust from Rhett has your head dropping back and a loud moan to leaving your body.

Rhett’s lips surge forward, working on your neck as your fingers dig into his scalp.  Tugging and pulling his hair as you climb higher.  

 He can’t hold himself any longer, grasping your hips he pulls you up off himself only slightly. Before you can even register what’s going on, Rhett’s got the center console up and you laid out stretching across the seats.

His eyes watch the way your chest rises in hurried breaths, how he’s got you laid out before him like a god damn feast.

He’s sinking back into you, grabbing both your legs, and wrapping them around his waist. Fucking into you at a feverish speed, your hands above you, grasping the door handle. White knuckled and crying out every time Rhett surges forward.  

The heat within your core becoming all too much as he fucks you. Hips snapping, and hitting that little spot, that has tears gathering in your eyes.

“Please, need it.”

Your babbling uncontrollable, body withering underneath Rhett.

“I’ve got you Tilly.” The snapping of his hips speeding up, and his hand reaching up to cradle your face. Your wild eyes silently beg him for more, anything to push you over the end.

His own release, tittering on the edge. He needed you to come first though, need it to see his girl fall apart on his cock.

To feel your cunt clench down on his cock, as you screamed out his name.

A sharp whine leaves your lips and Rhett feels you clench around him. His hand resting on your face, thumb stroking your cheek, waiting to give you that final push.

Your eyes fall to each other, silently begging.

“Let go baby, daddy’s got you.”

You tumble over the edge, hands grasping at Rhett. Cunt clenching around him, as his own hips stutter.

“Wanna feel you daddy. Need to feel your cum.” Your voice is breathy, as you clench around him even tighter.

Rhett’s hands fall to rest by your head, hips stilling as he coats your walls. His hips slowly fucking into you, coating you completely.

Claiming you as his, and his alone.

His face rests in your neck, as he feathers gentle kisses across your neck and jaw. Causing you to giggle, when he kisses behind your ear.

The both of you enjoy the feeling of each other, needing this moment of peace in each other’s presence.

Rhett pulls away slightly and your hand holds onto his cheek as he stares into your eyes. Love seeping from them, and incasing the both of you.

There would never be anyone else for you, he was it.

Your first love, your best friend, and the man you wanted to marry. How you stayed away for so long eluded you, but you wouldn’t be doing it again.

“I love you, Rhett Abbott.”

[delopsia]

Tied To Your Body | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex, mentions of Rhett having a popcorn fixation (in other words ~mentions of food~), sex in a truck, a little bit of running from Maria, and mentions of Rhett recently losing his virginity to the reader ❤

They never talk about the beginning of the rodeo season.

No, no, they always talk about the end of it. 

When the stakes are at their highest, one wrong move can cost you everything you've been working towards. A bracing breeze half-heartedly nipping at your skin, crisp with everything Autumn. Leaves painted in their favorite warm tones, yellow, red, and orange, when the local farmers are harvesting their corn and soybeans, and the days become shorter and shorter.

They never talk about how the season starts in the Spring. The air always deceptively cold. One week, there's snow on the ground, and you're shivering up in the stands; the next, it feels like a hot summer day, and you're sweating through your clothes. When unexpected showers can come at any time, without warning, and when the pollen gives your allergies a run for their money, reminding you of your own mortality. 

The weatherman said it would be quite warm tonight; the temperature appropriate for a t-shirt and shorts. But here you are, freezing your ass off because you took his advice and wore a short skirt.

Talk about the mistake of your life.

Pacing next to the fence line, jumping up and down, daydreaming about snuggling up next to a nice, cozy fire, nothing is working. In fact, it only serves to make you even colder, and when you step away from your spot along the fence for the briefest of seconds, your spot is taken. Some large, older man who scowls at you when you so much as breathe in his direction.

From across the rodeo grounds, hidden behind the elderly asshole who just spit tobacco on the ground next to your feet, you're staring daggers into the side of Rhett Abbott's skull. How has this unsocialized, pale cowboy dragged you all the way out to a rodeo three hours outside of Wabang? Where in your life did you make the turn that led you down this old dirt path? 

A blaring horn has you turning your gaze back to the left, just in time to catch glimpse of a black and white bull as it bursts out into the ring, his unfortunate rider already soaring through the open air. Your eyes flick back to where Rhett was once standing, waiting on his final ride of the night.

But he's not there.

What's worse is that you can't figure out where he could have made off to. Leading you to stand on your tiptoes and glance around in hopes of catching glimpse of that not-so-unique cowboy hat. So many brown hats in this crowded place. None of them attached to Rhett Abbott.

God, you hope he's not off buying popcorn. 

It's hard to recall how it came about. It may have gotten its start when he bought a Christmas popcorn tin because there was an adorable litter of golden retriever puppies on it, didn't know there was popcorn inside until later. Or, it could have been that time you took him to a proper movie theater, introduced him to the concept of sneaking snacks in via your purse and the wonders of theater popcorn.

Maybe it's both, but whatever the case, you can't seem to get the fool away from it. Every event ends with a surprise appearance of popcorn. 

"Ya look cold." 

It takes you a moment to realize that the voice is coming from your right, concealed by an unfamiliar group of people shuffling past. But you'd recognize that old denim jacket from anywhere, the dark blue one with the flannel lining inside, just barely peeking out. No popcorn in hand. 

"Because I am," you grit, barely concealing the chattering of your teeth, "what gives it away?"

Rhett hums, like he's deep in thought, "everythin'."

Maybe you would have a witty comeback to grill him about his lack of descriptors, but the beginnings of it are snuffed out as he settles next to you. Opening up big, inviting arms,  encouraging you to snuggle into him, and you do just that. Stepping closer, you tuck yourself right into his side, head resting against his shoulder, where you can hear his heartbeat the slightest bit.

It may be cold outside, but Rhett's a goddamn heater. Warm enough to melt the invisible frost from your poor skin, your own little bundle of fire to keep you from getting frostbite. 

"Shame we're in public," he muses as he presses his astoundingly frigid nose into your temple, "can think of much better ways to warm ya up."

You've created a monster.

You knew that being his first would unleash something, but good lord, you did not expect him to become a downright addict. Ready to drop to his knees at the drop of his own hat, the slightest notion of sex has him 

Rolling your eyes as if you're not squeezing your legs just a little tighter, "you need to go to a rehab."

For no reason in particular.

Yeah.

No reason at all.

"Not sure how you expect me t'go 'bout that, doll," a scruffy chin scratches your cheek as he presses a kiss there, "'please help me, doc, I can't take my mind off my girlfriend's tight lil' pussy'."

"Rhett!" 

This place is far too loud for anyone to have heard him, but you still catch yourself glancing around, fully expecting to catch sight of the horrified eyes of an eavesdropper. You find none. 

A second kiss is pressed to your jaw. Then a third, right where your neck meets with your jaw bone, trailing sloppily toward the soft spot beneath your ear. His favorite spot to nibble on, threatening to leave a mark but never quite following through with it. That poor heart of his can't handle the embarrassment of his momma noticing and putting two and two together. 

"Y'smell nice," He murmurs against your skin, "much better than 'em ol' bulls."

You'll take his word for it; he reeks of the very bulls he speaks of, "gee, thanks," squirming, unable to escape the cowboy-shaped glue trap you've mistakenly snuggled up into, "your compliments are impeccable."

The world tilts. Something hard hits your ass.

Just a second ago, you were face-to-face with Rhett. Now you're at eye level with a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. An ache already blossoming in your right shoulder. 

Rhett's yelling something, but you don't know what or at who. What you do know is that there are hands appearing in front of you, big, familiar, encompassing yours as they warily slide into his grasp. 

"Y'alright?" There's a stiffness to his concern; you don't know what for.

You're still processing what just happened, but you're nodding, "yeah." Your ass hurts. 

It's hard to focus on, though, because Rhett's gingerly releasing your hands, hovering, as if you'll fall again if he moves too quick. You don't see it until he turns; just a few feet away stands a familiar, broody old man rubbing his shoulder like he's smacked it on something. 

"Don't you think you owe somebody an apology?" 

Oh.

The guy is too far away for you to hear what he says, but it doesn't look like any apology you've ever seen. What you do see, though, is a right hand reaching for something on his hip. 

"Rhett," your hand is shooting up on its own accord, catching him by the shoulder; it's not a firm grip by any means, but he stops regardless. 

You want to say something more; not here, not now, not when you've still got your final ride coming up, but Rhett's already backing off. Odd to think that this has happened so many times that you've practically got him trained.

"Prick just knocked you clean off your feet," he hisses, hands coming down to cradle your hips, loose, as if they're made of glass, "y'gotta let me make 'n example outta somebody, one of these days."

"I will," you probably won't, "but right now, you've already got two jobs on your plate."

Like a puppy, his head tilts to the side, the sweetest of subconscious habits, "whaddaya mean?"

"Keeping me warm," leaning upward as you speak, brushing the tips of your noses together, "and winning this rodeo, so we can have something to celebrate tonight."

His left eye twitches. What blue was left in those already dark irises is gone in an instant, as black as the night sky. "Celebrate, huh?"

It's probably just a coincidence.

There's absolutely no way that your little pre-ride remark triggered Rhett to jump from position number nine to number one. But he's spinning around in the ring, searching for your face, grinning from ear to ear when he spots you. Proud. 

Those eyes are still black when he disappears behind the chutes, easily becoming lost in that endless sea of bull riders. Whether or not one of those riders will beat his score before the night is over is anyone's guess, but to you, he's already won. The show's over, ready to be packed up and for everyone to hit the road.

All you can think of right now is your warm bed. How cozy it'll be when you cuddle up in it together, freshly showered. You can already feel his chin hooking over your shoulder, arms loosely draped around your waist, watching what videos play on your phone, curious. So eager to learn what the hell a Tumblr is because his phone is so ancient that he can't download apps anymore. 

Just the thought of it has you yawning; this concrete sidewalk might as well be a bed because you're considering taking a nap right here and now. 

A heavy chest bumps into your back, hard enough to startle your yawn. There is only one man who kisses up your neck like that, starting with the skin peeking out from your shirt collar. All the while, the edge of his hat bumps into you. "Was I good 'nough for ya, doll?" 

One of these days, he'll figure out that the answer is always going to be yes. 

Teeth nibble on the shell of your ear, toying with it like a teething puppy. In this chilly Spring air, his breath tickling your skin feels like fire, burning everything it touches in the most delicious of ways. But it's nowhere near as hot as the palms that are sliding beneath your shirt, pressing firm against your soft belly. 

"Well, hello to you too," your words are meant to be louder, but they're lost to the wind the moment his tongue darts out to soothe over his little bites. 

On their own, your hips wander backward, finding a familiar tent in his old jeans. The ones that are a size too small, leftover from his high school days, worn with the intent of ripping them up during a ride, but the material too stubborn to actually do so. Horrible for him but wonderful for you to watch him jump until it squeezes over his ass. 

"So goddamn p'rty when you're standin' over 'ere," voice a few octaves deeper than usual, rough, gravelly, like how it sounds when he's just woken up, "y'got a dozen riders makin' heart eyes back there."

You just can't help the question boiling on your tongue. "Are you one of them?" 

"Always," and that is definitely his dick pressing into the curve of your ass. Riled up, and all you've done is stand here and shiver. 

Tied to your body, this one is. 

Leaning into him, you tilt your head to the side, your nose bumping into his as you do so, too close for your own good. Pearly white teeth sink into his thin bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth as if reigning himself in from acting out in public. But oh, those bitten lips look so kissable. One little kiss couldn't...hurt...

"Rhett!" That's not your voice, and it's certainly not Rhett's. 

If he hears it, he doesn't react, too focused on closing the gap between your mouths to do much else. One brush, and already you can taste the buttered popcorn he's splurged on. You're sure you'll find a fresh bag in his—

"Rhett!" There it is again. On your left. Closer this time. 

This time, he draws away, narrow eyes darting across the rodeo grounds. It's not confusion that contorts his face; it's recognition. A visible, 'aha!' moment, concealed in the widening of his eyes. 

"Rhett!"

"Shit." 

It's not until the third step that you realize you're moving, escorted away by the thick forearms that secure you into his side. There's a temptation to stop, dig your heels into the ground until he explains what the hell's going on, but you doubt he'd even feel your resistance. Built like those bulls that he rides for fun. 

"Who was that?" You squeak, stumbling along in tandem with his step. Asking where you're going is pointless when he's already got you directed toward the parking lot.

Rhett's head swivels, peering over his shoulder. Whatever he sees has him moving a little quicker. "Maria." 

Now that's a name you haven't heard in a minute. You forget her last name, but you can recall enough to know that he had quite the crush on her back in high school. His momma never quite shuts up about it, convinced that since her first love worked out, Rhett's will, too, even if he's moved on. 

That being said, you don't know how many people quite literally run from their so-called first love. 

"And we're fleeing the vicinity because...?" Voice bouncing as you speak, your skirt catching in the wind and smacking against your thighs with every step.

"Once she starts a-talkin'," steering you left; his truck sits on the very end, sticking out like a sore thumb compared to all the pavement princesses in this town, "she'll never stop."

And here, Cecelia wonders why the topic of Maria never bugs you.

Unlike these other vehicles, Rhett's farm truck doesn't come with the luxury of a key fob. Too old for such technology, doesn't even possess powered windows. Instead of carting you towards the passenger door, he stops on the driver's side, jamming his key into the tiny lock. He's got no choice but to open it manually, and yet, you still find your heart fluttering in your chest when he opens it for you.

"Up, up, up," by the time you register his voice, you're already squeezing past the steering wheel. Spurs jingle behind you, the truck shaking as Rhett all but throws himself into the vehicle. 

There's a large bag of popcorn in your seat. A bag that certainly was not there a little bit ago.

He sees it. 

You see it. 

He sees you see it. 

Kisses pepper along your cheek. One after another, insistent, doing their absolute best to distract you from the snack he's become so horribly obsessed with.

"Rhett," you warn,  scooting away, but he follows. They tickle, his breath disturbing all those sensitive spots along your cold skin, forcing the corners of your lips to turn upward. "What're you doing?"

"Nothin'," but you can feel his smile as he continues to drown you with them, slowly but surely making his way to your lips. Pausing just before your mouths meet, darkened eyes flitting up to meet with yours, unsure, searching. 

Nothing, your ass.

It's hard to tease him over his eating habits when you've got him looking at you the way he does. Awestruck that you're real, sitting right here in the middle of his beat-up farm truck. All those kisses he's given you, and yet, he waits for you to seal the gap. 

One kiss couldn't hurt, right?

He knows it's coming, and yet, he has the audacity to give you that little, surprised inhale when your mouth meets with his. Always so shocked by your kisses, like he's never had them before a day in his life. Lips feather-light as they mold to slot with yours, have never known a kiss other than yours.

Only one kiss. Only one. You know what more can lead to, and a rodeo parking lot isn't the time nor the place for that. Tentative lips snatch a second kiss away from you, a mere peck, something meant to be fleeting, but it's all you can even think about. 

Maybe...maybe a few more couldn't hurt. 

The brim of his hat bumps into your head as you come back for more; if your eyes were open, you're sure you'd laugh over how it's barely hanging on, but you couldn't open them even if you wanted to. Fingertips graze the side of your neck, drawing up to curl around your jaw, anchoring you there. 

It was you who didn't want to kiss him more than once, and yet; it's you who greedily leans into him, chasing his touch. But is it chasing if he's meeting you halfway? Always on the same page, tilting his head whenever you do, matching your angle, following your quickening pace. 

A big hand takes hold of your waist, pushing, urging you to lie back against the seat. These cloth seats are anything but high quality, but after sitting on bleachers until your ass went numb, they feel like they've been hand-crafted by the gods above. 

Your head hits something soft, crunching under your weight. "Is that what I think it is?" 

Rhett's ears flush red, as vibrant as the car parked next to you. Without a word, he reaches behind your head, sliding the bag of popcorn out and setting it on the floorboard. You'd tease him if it weren't for the crippling realization that he's slid between your legs. Tattered jeans rough against your bare thighs, legs split wide to fit around his hips. 

Curious, they tilt forward, clothed bulge rubbing over your thin panties. You have to fight the urge to push yourself up against him; it feels so right, but you're in public.

"Ain't nobody fixin' to come lookin' for us," and the uncouth bastard does it again, dragging his clothed hard-on right where you want him. Still stretched from your rendezvous in the shower this morning, then again when you had a few extra minutes after you visited him on the ranch. 

"That's not what I'm worried about," you don't think Maria would follow you all the way out here anyway, "I'm worried about the potential public indecency charges."

Calloused hands run up your inner thighs, and those worries downright evaporate from your brain altogether. They drag back up, then back down, continuing even when you unintentionally squeeze your legs together, heat blossoming there. 

"Ain't this the kind of thing you read 'bout in those...smuck stories you like?" His eyebrows furrow; knows that's not the right word, but he can't quit pin it.

He might as well be illiterate, but he's pretty damn good at remembering what you read. 

"Have you been taking notes?"

"Just a few." His head drops, hair falling out from behind his ear, barely concealing those bashful eyes as he tries to look anywhere but at you. Unable to meet your eye after such a confession. Sometimes you forget that just a few weeks ago, he'd never done anything like this before. 

As you reach up to curl your hands around his cheeks, scruffy but remarkably squishy beneath your palms, you recognize that you're creating a monster. Once you start doing something, it's hard for either of you to stop. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. However, if he keeps looking at you like that, all soft and shit, you're not going to be responsible for what happens next.

"Those notes had better be good, cowboy," and then you're drawing him down to steal a kiss off those swollen lips of his. Lingering, not quite ready to let go now that you've closed that gap. 

This close, you can feel his mouth turn upward, contorting against yours, unable to hide it in the slightest. "Only one way to find out," another peck, "right?"

Perfectly mirroring the ones he peppered up the back of your neck, he leaves open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Pays special attention to the sensitive collarbones that lie just below, peeking out from your top. Teeth nibbling on the bones, enough to elicit a gasp from you, then soothing over his marks with a warm tongue. 

A tongue that you have become far too familiar with as of late. 

Hands creep up your shirt, his nails dragging up the sides of your waist, stopping just below your ribcage. It tickles, sends your back arching under his touch, unsure if you want more or to get away from it. 

If you were anywhere else, he'd work you out of every article of clothing that clings to your body; but you're still somewhat in public. Instead, he settles for pushing your shirt upward, showering your belly with the same love and affection he blessed your neck with. 

"So pretty," his words punctuated by kisses, "can't believe you're real, sometimes." 

Boots bump against the door; he's gone as far back as he physically can. His face falls, looking backward to try and find more space, but he has none. Still unfamiliar with the logistics of jamming two bodies into the front seat of this old GMC. 

Gingerly, he pulls your panties to the side, but he doesn't touch you like you expect him to, "can y'check if you need prep, doll?" 

Certainly not what you'd expected him to say in the slightest. "Did you break your fingers while you were out there?" But your dominant hand is already rising to his mouth, two fingers nudging at his lips. 

"Nah," tongue rolling out like a welcome mat, he welcomes them inside, carefully wetting them, "but they're too dirty for me to be touchin' ya here." 

One of his hands rises, revealing the dirt that's collected beneath his nails and in the wrinkles of his fingers. You don't want to know what you could catch from that. 

Pleasantly, you're surprised to find that there's hardly any resistance when you press your wet fingers inside. You'd been expecting more, something that required a little effort to take care of, but then again, you've had little time to recover from the last round. "I think I'm good." 

Magic is the only way you can explain how easily he undoes that buckle of his, clasped one second, unclasped the next. You could spend an hour practicing and still never get that same result, but Rhett makes it look so easy that it's almost infuriating. 

He's the one to pull his zipper down, but it's you who reaches past the confines of those jeans and fishes him out of his boxers. Heavy in your palm, twitching the moment you've got him within your grasp. Not quite as scary as it looks when it's fighting against the material of his too-small pants.

"Hands always so goddamn soft," he breathes, bracing a hand against the seat.

It's too easy to guide him down, tapping that plush head against your entrance for the third time today. And yet, still, that forward tilt of his hips has you gasping, like it's been weeks since the last time you felt this.

"Shit," you can't help but swear, you're going to be so sore come tomorrow morning, "Rhett."

It's hard to understand why you're saying his name in the first place. So taken aback by the drag of his blunt head against your walls that you can't focus on what's coming out of your mouth. Rhett drops back down, forearms bracing on either side of your head as he presses your noses together. 

His cockhead bumps against that sensitive bundle of nerves, and your thighs clamp down around his hips. It's annoying how slow he is with you, how gentle, even when he's aware that you can take him without batting an eye at this point. Stops midway to see if you give him any indications to stop.

"Rhett, if you don't get your dick all the way in me, I swear to—"

His hips quirk upward, and all of a sudden, he's bottoming out. Punching the air from your lungs, stars sparkling behind your eyelids. You've gotta start watching what you wish for.

"What was that?" Smug, grinning against your cheekbone. "Hm?"

Like you said, you're creating a monster. 

But now that you've shattered that initial slowness, he's completely abandoned it. Hips drawing back, then pushing right back in, a short stroke, but offers you no opportunity to gather your bearings. Gives you no chance to prepare yourself for the obscene squelch that he works out of you.

"Asshole," your voice is strained, barely there. 

Again, he repeats it, recreating the same deliberate motion that has you reaching up to grasp his bicep. Need something to hold onto because that sound coming from between your legs is going to send you straight to hell. Over and over, until you're contemplating starting the truck just to blast the radio, drown out that awfully wet noise altogether. 

Teeth nip at your jaw, "touch yourself for me, doll."

He doesn't need to tell you twice. 

Your hand bumps into his belly on its way down, not enough space between your bodies for it to fit. But then he's leaning up a bit, unintentionally changing the angle of his hips and—

"Fuck," you just about jump out the goddamn window. One little alteration, and he's kissing that abused, oversensitive spot again. 

"There she is," he hisses directly into your ear, "this where you wanted me, hm?"

You almost don't think you need to press your fingertips to your exhausted clit, but they do so anyway. Spiraling in tandem with his motions, a slight tremor hidden in your hand. Now that Rhett's found it, he's not letting up on it. Even as his pace gradually quickens, thrusts becoming harder as he gains his confidence, it's never left alone. That fat head bumps into it on every fucking drag. 

"And to think you couldn't," hiccuping, "couldn't find it a few weeks ago."

You're powerless to stop him from massaging that gooey spot. With every stroke, you find yourself clamping down around him a little tighter, a fluttering vice around his cock. Milking those deep, guttural sounds right out of him, sweet noises gracing your ears like tiny blessings. Makes your hand tremble even more, unable to keep your fingers on your swollen clit.

The motions of his hips are starting to lose their rhythm, cock jerkily plunging into your wet heat with reckless abandon. "But now y'can't get 'nough of me," his words are so jumbled together that he sounds drunk, "lyin' back 'n lettin' me take care of ya." 

If his crumbling rhythm isn't enough of a hint, those breathy grunts are. Never seeming to fall from his tongue until he's teetering over the edges of bliss; one of these days, you'll get him to sing you a melody the whole way through. Your fingers barely have the capacity to swirl around your clit, knocked away by your mutual deterioration. 

"Y'gonna cum for me?" He murmurs, toying with your earlobe, "hm?"

Distantly, you're aware of the truck shaking, rocking back and forth with his motions, like you're laying out in the open sea. Heat tightens in your belly, and in tandem, your thighs clench around his hips, giving him no room to pull away. 

"Rhett," you warn, but it's pointless. Already there. Warning a few seconds too late. 

Your head feels like it's been filled with sand, unable to comprehend much more than the wave of heat that washes over you. Fluttering around air, distantly aware of a sudden wetness at your entrance that you can't quite place. Can vaguely hear the pitchy gasps that tickle down your neck as he cums, such wonderful noises that drag you back down to Earth. 

It's dark.

Even as you realize that your eyes have closed and find the strength to open them, you can still hardly see a thing. Rhett's silhouette is the only thing you can see in this dark truck, hovering above you, curls bouncing as he fumbles through the glove box. Was it this dark the whole time?

A light flickers outside, the streetlamp kicking back on.

Oh.

Rhett's softening cockhead bumps against your swollen cunt, only serves to spread the thick, white cum he's left along your puffy entrance and clit. You're not sure where you'd rather him cum, but you still weren't expecting him to pull out. 

"How's a bath and a movie sound, hm?" He muses, plucking a napkin from his hellishly organized compartment. It's rough, and you're pretty sure that it's from Mcdonald's, but it's better than nothing.

On its own accord, your hand reaches up, pushing loose hair back behind his ear. "Can't handle a shower?" 

"Can you?" 

You hate that he's got a point. But, you've been graced with a three-hour drive home to recover. Plenty of time for you to gather your bearings, convince yourself you can do it, and then give up halfway through and ask him to carry you.  

"Is the popcorn going to be a part of the movie?" Your legs ache as you sit up, exhausted from being split apart so often. 

He hums, long and dramatic, like your question requires more than a half second of thought, "maybe." Then he's leaning over, the tip of his nose bumping into yours, "but it'll cost you a kiss."

One kiss couldn't hurt. Right?

You're grinning too much for it to be a proper one, but still, your lips meet for the briefest smooch of the night. A kiss is a kiss. 

There's movement behind his head. The head of a dark-haired woman stepping past, opening up the door to the red truck parked just beside you. 

Maria.

Rhett sees her.

You see her.

He sees you see her. 

Keys jingle, and with a rather unhappy grumble, Rhett's truck roars to life. 

"Are we still running from her?" You find yourself asking, halfway between buckling yourself in. 

The answer comes in the form of the truck lurching forward, angry, ready to get on the highway and embark on that ridiculously long drive home. 

"Yes, ma'am," Rhett still finds the opportunity to reach over and squeeze your knee, always has to be touching you, "and this time we're running all the way back home and never coming back out."

Here you go again.

[az-cain]

Bruised Thighs/Flowery Sheets

rhett abbott x reader ≈ 3300 words

TUMBLR ATE THE ASK DAMMIT, i am so so sorry anon, but it said:

If you're taking requests...sub!Rhett needing help to clear out his mind after having a rough ride and he can't stop the self-doubt. Poor boy just needs to be fucked so good his brain stops functioning 😈

this is pure filth! i love it. so fun to write. thank you to @girl-in-the-chairs-void for encouraging me and my terrible thoughts lmao, i wouldn’t have picked it back up today were it not for you.

TW FOR: description of bruises and hard landings, mild angst, brief mention of shitty fathers and poor body image, food and a poor relationship with it (ice cream), mild dacryphilia (crying kink), spanking, oral sex m&f!receiving, anal fingering m!receiving, pegging, dumbification, pet names (honey, baby, good boy, sweetie, darlin’)

Rhett’s thighs always hurt after a ride. The bull’s bucking consistently left his legs black and blue, so he’d grown accustomed to the pain. What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, however, was the sting of his forearms smacking the dirt on a bad dismount. The gravel dug in even through the thick shirt he wore, and the disappointment pierced through his skin beside it. As he scrambled away from the raging bull and into the pen, he sighed heavily, wearily, looking at the time. Five seconds. He hadn’t even made it ¾ of where he needed to be.

As he passed by his father, who clapped him on the back with a lightly-disguised look of displeasure and murmured common words of reassurance, he struggled to smile gratefully. He’d had an off day, he knew that was all. It was only a qualifier, so he wasn’t out of the game. Still, the stinging anger that rested behind his eyes refused to subside until he saw you.

You had his red flannel unbuttoned across your chest and your sports bra exposed to the wind, the summer night heat beating down on the whole stadium. Your jean shorts were just long enough to be decent, and the smile you gave him was anything but. His worries melted away, now just residing in his mind as a quiet nagging voice.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him eagerly and letting him bury his sweaty forehead in your equally sweaty neck. “How are you feeling after that dismount?”

He pulled back and tried to smile, lips quivering slightly, but ultimately shook his head in resignation. “Not great.”

You rubbed up and down his upper arms, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. “I know. You want to go get ice cream?”

He nodded with a sniffle, feeling like a child. He knew, though, that you only wanted to cheer him up. So, as you led him to his truck and pulled his keys out of your pocket to unlock it, he straightened his back and tried to push his bad thoughts from his mind.

Did it work? Not entirely.

As you shifted into drive, he clicked his seatbelt into place and felt you set your hand on his knee. You rubbed comforting circles on the soft skin and hummed along to the pop song filtering through the stifling summer air, made more tolerable by the blasting A/C and the open windows. He was struck, silently, by how much he loved you, and it gave him pause. Your hand on his knee calmed him significantly, almost enough to make him stop thinking about his off day.

As you pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru, you moved your hand back to the steering wheel. “Same as always?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled gently, so entirely enamored with you.

He listened to you order for the two of you, the crackling response that was nearly inaudible, and your loud “thank you.” As you waited in the drive-thru line, you cranked up the radio and plugged in the classic rock cassette he’d recorded for you, much to your amusement.

A number of sleazy songs played loudly across his cheap, 20-year-old speakers, and as you sang— or belted, rather— the lyrics, he couldn’t find it in him to care that the two of you were being the annoying drive-thru patrons everyone despised. The pencil you’d found to use as a microphone was dropped into the cupholder as you lowered the volume and met the teenager’s extended hand with a thank you, collecting the two cups of ice cream that you handed to him. He took small spoonfuls of the stuff as you drove home, the negative thoughts seeping back in in the form of body image. He wondered if he’d have gotten a better time today if he didn’t eat so much ice cream.

Of course, he knew that these thoughts were silly, so he did his best to put them out of his mind as you pulled into the driveway of your home and helped him out of the car, offering yourself as a brace for his bruised thighs and stinging forearms.

You entered the house together, settled on the dark couch and ate silently with one another, content to simply be in each others’ presence. When you’d both finished, you took his cup and ventured into the kitchen to throw both away before returning to your seat. At your gesture, he laid his head upon your thigh and let your hands come to rest in his hair. You sat there, running your fingers through his long hair for minutes, until you began to want more.

You tugged lightly on it, just testing the waters, and Rhett keened, whimpering through the muffling of his palm. “Please,” he whined quietly. A faint smile split your cheeks and you hummed, continuing to scratch his scalp like you’d never pulled on it. “Want you,” he continued, turning to meet your eyes and lifting his hips off of the soft couch to try and find friction against his jeans.

Chuckling softly at his neediness, you nodded. “Okay, honey. Let’s go to the bedroom.” With that, you patted his shoulder to make him move, and stood up behind him. When he moved slowly because of his sore thighs, you smacked his ass. A loud groan ripped through him— and through you— as you said “C’mon, baby.”

He started walking faster, your legs keeping easy pace, and made it into the bedroom quickly. He turned around and grabbed for you, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“Need you, please,” he whined again, to which you pressed your lips against his harder, biting at his bottom lip and swiping your tongue against his. His desperation only served to turn you on, lightning ripping through your lower abdomen.

You pressed one more harsh kiss against his lips before you squeezed his ass and commanded, “Strip.”

Ever obedient, he reached to tug off his tight t-shirt as you took a step backwards. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, his boots slipping off of his feet with ease, jeans and boxers falling to the carpet with the quiet whoosh of denim against skin. You watched eagerly as his cock, red and swollen, smacked against his milky-white thigh; you listened as he whimpered from the small amount of contact. You felt yourself clench with excitement as his hand twitched towards it, but you met his eyes and shook your head solemnly. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily, and nodded quickly in return.

“Good boy,” you crooned, approaching him again. One of your fingers traced along the ridge of his cock, a hum breaking from your chest as he bucked against you with a cry. “Stay still for me, sweetie. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words were quiet, but the obedience warranted some kind of reward; noting this, you kissed down his neck, to his torso, to his Adonis belt, to the base of his cock, all the while slipping to your knees before him.

His breathing sped up, bruised thighs clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you said, kissing along the tops of his thighs gently, working ever closer with each kiss.

Finally, reaching the wiry hair at the top of his cock, you looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were foggy, lust-addled and exhausted, but when he met yours, you saw them warm up slightly with adoration.

You held that eye contact as you kissed down his length, gently taking the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly. A wail broke from his lips as he doubled over, hands balling up into fists with concentration. “Please, please, oh god—” Rhett breathed the words quietly, just loud enough to be heard over your own breaths.

The resolve to be good for you made you moan around him, your thighs pressing together to find some sort of friction. Your mouth popped off of his tip with a pleased hum. “Use your words, baby.”

He struggled to meet your eyes, his pretty blues looking straight through you for a moment before you snapped your fingers to catch his attention. He focused in on you, just barely, and you raised your brows. “Words, darlin’.”

He nodded absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Please, oh— please suck me off— or— or fuck me, please,” he stuttered out, breaths coming quickly as he tried to process what he was asking for.

You closed your hand around one of his ass cheeks, avoiding the tender bruises. In response, you got a broken moan and a few senseless words of thanks. “Good boy, thank you for telling me what you need. Let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

Finally, you opened your mouth and let his dick fall onto your tongue, drool sliding down the length of it. You used your spare hand to collect the moisture, stroking it from where it fell from your mouth to the base of his cock. He sobbed above you quietly, eyes still fogged when you look up. The wiry hair scratched at your hand as you held his base tightly, allowing yourself to take him into your throat carefully, but not wanting him to let go just yet. It was a struggle not to gag, as it always was, because his cock filled your throat with so pleasant an ache. Still pushing your thighs together, you shifted your weight slowly to try and find some relief against your clit, moaning harshly around him when you succeeded, punching a groan out of him at the vibrations.

The hand that remained on his ass started to squeeze again, working its way between his cheeks. You sunk your middle finger in, searching for his rim. Finding it rather quickly, you reveled in the loud, strangled noises he made as you circled it with some pressure. He begged and pleaded for more nearly incoherently. “Oh god, please, oh my god,” was most of what you pieced together. Not deigning to pull off of him to respond, tongue and mouth still working around him, you pushed those two fingers in gently, more harsh crows tearing from his chest.

Distantly, you mourned the fact that you wouldn’t get to take him down your throat entirely, needing to keep that hand there for his sake. But still, you were having your fun and getting off on just this, your spit dripping down his cock and onto your wrist, and the middle finger from your other hand teasing lightly around his most sensitive spot. He was sobbing above you, hands balled into fists as he approached the edge but couldn’t quite reach it.

Quiet whines, praises, and pleas left his throat, high-pitched and needy; putty in your hands. Your jaw had begun to ache rather quickly, the sheer girth of him making the fun short-lived. So, pulling back and standing up, you told him to get on the bed. You tore your own shirt and pants off of your body, needing your overheated skin exposed to the air.

Rhett had laid down face-up, just how you’d wanted. Walking up to him, you slipped a finger between your thighs to show him just how slick you were. You were positively aching: throbs of pleasure were radiating through your hips with every step you took, the sight of his cock twitching against him and the sound of his whimpers only exacerbating the issue.

When you reached the bed, you climbed up onto him to straddle his face, his eyes following your pussy eagerly. “Oh fuck,” he whined, hips canting off the bed with desire, before you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock again, He panted below you, breaths completely erratic as you settled down onto him. Your hand tangled in his hair, balancing you directly over his open mouth as you kept a tight clutch on his dick. Licking eagerly into you, Rhett pushed his hips down to try and keep from thrusting into your fist. As a reward and in order to satisfy that ache, you ground down against him. His nose caught your clit, and you groaned a guttural sound that sounded like you were being torn in two. Again, and again, his nose caught your clit, and you felt that tightness ratchet higher and higher within you. After one more good grind down against his open mouth, his tongue trying to work its way inside of you, you let go, collapsing forward as you let his cock go, one hand clutching tightly into his hair and the other against the headboard. Shocks wracked your body, moans leaving your mouth entangled with expletives in a stream. You sat atop him for a few more moments, still clenching lightly as you tried to gather yourself.

When you finally felt that you’d recovered, you dismounted his face with one more grind and strutted to the bathroom to get the strap-on, sure to sway your hips for the boy watching. You pulled it and the lube from the cabinet you kept it in and rinsed it thoroughly, removing any dust that may have settled since you last used it— purely a precaution, but you were nothing if not thorough. Having shook most of the water off and slid the harness and vibrating dildo on, you shut the bathroom light off and emerged to find Rhett face-down on the bed, knees spread below him and hands clutching the sheets beside his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’re so smart. Just what I wanted to see,” you crooned, one hand coming up to smack the unbruised part of his ass as you approached the bed. He rocked forward with the impact, arching his back towards you as he cried out.

You popped the cap of your water-based lube and slicked your fingers, warming them up for a moment before tracing circles around his asshole and slipping two fingers into him. With a loud moan, he pressed back against you, ignoring your command to stay still for the first time that night.

Smacking him lightly again, you scoffed lightheartedly. “Already fucked stupid? Stay still, baby.”

He nodded, sobbing muffled apologies into his pillowcase as you worked another finger in. Taking his sobs as a good enough apology, you grabbed for the base of him again and pressed gently at his prostate. He wailed into the pillowcase, his head flying back and forth as he struggled to keep still for you.

When you pulled your fingers back, he settled down a little, just enough to catch his breath. Moving up enough to level your hips with his, you smiled down at the sight of his farmer’s tan-striped back arched against your flowery sheets, the perfect composition of beauty, before you pressed the head of the silicone cock into his ass.

Slipping past his rim, you continued to slide in slowly, letting him adjust to the width of the toy splitting him. You didn’t use this one often, usually opting for the thinner pink one, but you really wanted to fuck the brains out of him tonight. It seemed that this toy was the right choice for that objective, because he was babbling mindlessly into the pillow, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, you pulled your hips back, then slammed into him with all of your might, sure to angle your hips down. He screamed into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he let go, streaks of come spurting onto the bed as he shook like a leaf. “Fuck!” You heard, the first intelligible word you’d gotten in minutes. He rocked back against you and continued his babbling, still recovering from his last orgasm but wanting more.

With a smile, you continued to rock into him slowly, stroking up and down his back with a nail for a few minutes to allow him to recover. When his breathing seemed to return to a steady pace and his hands had returned to an open position, you reached down to flip on the vibrator, the harness resting against your clit perfectly.

He jumped at the sudden change, but quickly melted again with a moan when he realized what happened. “Oh my god…” he sighed, hands balling into fists once more. You rocked into him slowly, testing the waters, before slamming your hips against his ass and setting a grueling pace.

The vibrator allowed you to find pleasure, steadily building both of you up as you whispered praises to the cowboy underneath your hands. You ran your palms along his ass, squeezing occasionally to get a garbled moan out of him.

Angling your hips down, you set yourself to getting him off at the same time as you, because you felt yourself rapidly approaching that peak. “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it,” you murmured half to yourself and half to him as you nailed his prostate. He rubbed his face into the pillow at the thrusts, trying desperately to muffle his desperate sounds.

You leaned back and wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, throbs resonating through your hips as you tried to hold on. Just as you were about to give up and let go, he wailed into the pillow and thrust his hips into your palm, hot, sticky ropes of come falling onto the bed. Content, you thrust into him one more time to rub your clit harshly along that bump in your harness, letting go with a cry of your own and grinding your hips against his as you rode it out. The waves died down, your walls still clenching lightly as you pulled off of him and discarded your harness in the bathroom sink. You grabbed a towel and ran warm water over it and wiped yourself down before repeating the process and bringing the cloth to the bedroom.

He murmured your name, reaching back to stroke your hair when you bent over his back to kiss his neck. “Roll over, baby,” you murmured against his skin. With a groan, he obeyed you, his eyes cracking open to meet your own.

You tenderly wiped his thighs and ass, wary of his hiss of discomfort, meeting his eyes again and only continuing at his nod. You folded the cloth to swipe quickly at his sweaty armpits and chest before you tugged him out of the bed, throwing the blankets (that had luckily been at the foot of the bed) to the floor, stripping the sheets, and removing the bed cover. You turned to tread to the linen closet to grab the extra sheets, turning over your shoulder to see him behind you, butt-naked and tired, coming to help you.

You waited for him to catch up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, continuing to walk to the closet and collecting the sheets. After you’d returned to the bedroom, you struggled to put the fitted sheet on together, threw the flat sheet on top, and reassembled your bed set.

Utterly tired, you collapsed into bed together, your head lying on his chest and feet curled behind you. You turned to press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes closed, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, Rhett.”

He pressed a big, scar-mottled, and calloused hand to your hair and bent to kiss your head: you felt the rumble in his own chest and the swell in your own when he opened his mouth and got nothing coherent out, his “I love you too” sounding more like an “Aluh’y’t…”

[intricatechaosofyou]

OH MY, MY, MY

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC (Daisy Miller) ; Outer Range

Summary: Rhett Abbott and Daisy Miller. Best friends since kindergarten. What happens when they get older?

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s Mary’s Song (Oh, my, my, my)

Warnings: mentions of violence, language

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

5 YEARS

When the school bell rang, the kids poured out of Amelia County Elementary School. It had been the first day of kindergarten for Daisy Miller and she was excited to tell her mother about the events of the day.

“Mama!” Daisy cried, running towards the woman.

With a smile, her mother bent down and hugged her tight. “Hi, flower! How was your first day of school?”

“It was great! You gotta meet my new friend!” Daisy stated, tugging on her mother’s sleeve.

Chuckling, her mother followed her across the courtyard. She was expecting to be led to another little girl but was surprised to see they were headed in the direction of a little boy tugging his mother in the same way Daisy was.

The two women looked at each other and smiled.

“Hi, Cecilia.”

“Hi, Jo. I see Rhett and Daisy have hit it off,” Cecilia laughed.

Jo nodded and looked down at the little boy. He looked just like his brother, with the exception of the black eye he was sporting. Perry didn’t seem like one for fights but it looked like Rhett might be. “It’s nice to meet you, Rhett. What happened to your eye?”

“Oh, Daisy punched me.”

Cecilia and Jo both gasped, looking down at the innocent looking girl.

“Daisy Caroline Miller! You punched him?” Jo asked, astonished.

Daisy just nodded. “He pulled my braid so I punched him.”

“It was a good punch, ma’am!” Rhett commented. “And I deserved it.”

“And now we’re best friends!” Daisy proclaimed with a wide smile, making Rhett nod in agreement.

Jo and Cecilia didn’t have any time to argue as the two children were already talking to each other again, giggling as if the punch had never happened.

“Why don’t you, Jack, and Daisy come over to the ranch for dinner this Friday?” Cecilia offered with a small chuckle.

“That sounds nice. Hopefully there won’t be any more punching,” Jo added, looking at the two children, bright smiles on their faces as they talked.

—————-

7 YEARS

“Rhett!” Daisy called, chasing after the boy.

Rhett simply giggled as he continued running across the field. His breathing was labored as he sprinted in an attempt to evade the girl behind him.

As he made a sharp turn, Daisy nearly slipped but she managed to regain her footing, not giving up in her pursuit.

A few seconds later, she managed to grab Rhett’s wrist and the two went tumbling down, landing in a pile of limbs and giggles.

“How dare you take my hair tie, Rhett,” Daisy scolded, still struggling to catch her breath. There was no bite to her words and she was barely holding back her laughter.

Rhett shrugged and smiled. “You look better with your hair down.”

Blushing, Daisy looked down at her lap. She pulled the blue ribbon from the boy’s hand and tied it around his wrist like a bracelet. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, Wildflower.”

“Anytime, Cowboy. Now,” she trailed off before shoving Rhett’s shoulder. “Tag! You're it!”

With that, she took off in a sprint towards the house.

Rhett just laughed and ran after her. “Daisy!”

—————-

14 YEARS

“I’m gonna kill him!” Rhett growled.

“N- no,” Daisy cried, reaching out for his arm. “You don’t need to.”

Rhett frowned and sat down on the edge of her bed. “He made you cry. ‘Course I need to.”

Letting out a watery laugh, Daisy wiped her tears. “Always the protector.”

“For you? Always,” Rhett replied with a small smile, brushing the hair back from her face. He put his arm around her shoulders, letting Daisy move to curl up into his side, head resting on his chest.

“Can’t believe he kissed Stacy,” she muttered.

“I don’t know what for,” Rhett replied. “She ain’t got nothing on you.”

Scoffing, Daisy crossed her arms. “Obviously something or else Trevor wouldn’t have stuck his tongue down her throat.”

“He’s just stupid.” Rhett sighed and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect.”

“Thanks,” Daisy mumbled. “But that doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck.”

“They don’t call it a heartbreak for nothing,” Rhett retorted.

“Don’t get smart with me, Abbott.”

“Just trying to make you feel better.”

Daisy smiled, gently fiddling with the blue ribbon Rhett kept tied around his wrist at all times. He had worn it since she put it there seven years ago, barely ever taking it off. It was then she realized that maybe this is what real love felt like.

—————-

15 YEARS

Daisy slipped through the door of the spare bedroom, out into the hallway of the Abbotts’ house.

While she had been over to study with Rhett for the upcoming chemistry exam, fluffy flakes had started to fall, coating Amelia county in a white blanket of snow. It was too hazardous for her to try to make it home, so Cecilia suggested she stay the night, an offer Daisy immediately took up.

Tip-toeing through the hall, Daisy stopped outside Rhett’s door. The second she opened the door, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the darkened room. Daisy looked up to find Rhett, huge smile plastered on his face.

Suddenly, the two burst into laughter, trying to keep their giggles quiet so Royal wouldn’t come looking for them.

As their giggles died down, Daisy leaned further into Rhett. “It’s cold.”

“C’mon,” Rhett muttered with a fond smile. “Let’s get you to bed.” He easily picked Daisy up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He set her in bed before placing a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled up at him and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck. The fond look in his eyes made her shiver.

“You gonna kiss me?” Daisy asked breathlessly.

“You want me to?”

Instead of answering, Daisy pulled him down and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was slow, comfortable. It felt natural, the way their lips moved together as if they had been doing it their whole lives.

When they finally parted, Rhett stared at her with wide eyes and swollen lips. “Does this mean I get to take you out on a date?”

Daisy rolled her eyes and pulled him into bed next to her. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, Cowboy.”

Smiling, Rhett pecked her lips once again before settling down with her, his head resting on her chest as she combed her fingers through his hair.

And the next morning, when Cecilia came up to tell the two that school had been canceled due to the snow, she found the two of them still tangled up together. With a knowing smile, she decided to let the two sleep a bit longer.

—————-

19 YEARS

Rhett’s eyes searched the crowd as he settled in on top of the bull for his final ride. He needed a good ride if he was going to win. As his crystal blue eyes scanned the crowd, they finally spotted Daisy waving at him from her seat. He smiled at her before turning back to the handlers and nodding.

Just like that, the gate opened and he was holding on for dear life.

“C’mon, Rhett!” Daisy cheered, her voice seemingly the only one he could hear despite the deafening roar of the audience.

When the buzzer sounded, Rhett held on for a few more seconds before making a reasonably graceful dismount. He stumbled a few steps and looked up at the scoreboard to find his name next to the large number one.

He smiled and waved to the crowd, basking in the victory. Looking towards Daisy’s seat, he saw her on her feet, cheering for him as loud as he could.

Touching the blue ribbon she had given him, which was now tied securely around his hat, he mouthed to her, “I love you.”

“I love you, more,” she mouthed back.

—————

23 YEARS

“What about buttercups for the centerpieces?” Daisy suggested from her perch on Rhett’s lap. “I think they’d be pretty.”

“Whatever you want, honey.”

“It’s your wedding, too, you know,” Daisy chided, poking his ribs gently.

“I mean, that was pretty obvious when I proposed,” Rhett snarked, playing with the new engagement ring that sat on her finger.

“Exactly,” Daisy laughed. “So you should have an opinion on these things. I mean what do you want this wedding to look like?”

“Just you and me. That’s all I need.” Rhett smiled and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

Daisy giggled. “As adorable as that is, it doesn’t help.”

“Fine, fine. I like buttercups. They remind me of you, Wildflower.”

Daisy smiled and leaned her head on Rhett’s shoulder. “Who’d have thought we’d be getting hitched after all these years?”

“Me. You had me from that punch,” Rhett mumbled.

“You deserved it,” she retorted with a smirk.

“I did,” he laughed. “You wanna know why I pulled your braid that day?”

“Why?”

“I thought you were pretty.”

“No way!” Daisy laughed.

“I did. Pulling your braid was the only way I could think of to get you to talk to me.”

“Well, I’m glad you did it. Cause I thought you were the cutest boy I’d ever met.”

“Really?”

Daisy nodded. “And you still are, Rhett.”

He smiled, resting his chin atop her head. “I love you, Daisy.”

“I love you, too.”

[princessphilly]

Hey hey hey. Can you tell me your thots on deep throating/throat training with Rhett?

@sebsxphia @thesluttyarchivist @hederasgarden @therebeccaw @withahappyrefrain @writercole @whoeverineedtobe @newlibrary

“Tap my leg if it’s too much.”

You tried to nod as you felt his cock enter your mouth, slow and steady. Your head was hanging off of the bed, the rest of your body lying on the bed, as you slowly took more of his dick into your mouth. Gulping slightly, you gagged a bit before Rhett pulled out your mouth.

“That was fine,” you said, your voice already a bit rough. Rhett grunted before slipping inside of your mouth again. This time he went a bit deeper and you relaxed your jaw and tried to relax your throat. However, it was too much and you tapped his leg as you felt yourself feel like heaving.

“Good girl,” Rhett praised, rewarding you with his fingers touching your needy pussy. “You took more of me this time, we’ll try again later.”

[withahappyrefrain]

If your requests are still open, please may I request number 23 from the fluff list for our favourite cowboy Rhett Abbott? I've never watched Outer Range but thanks to Tumblr I'm now obsessed with him 😍 I am also crazy obsessed with your writing and have spent most of my lunch hour reading through your work. You are one talented lady 😘

Hello folks, I present Smitten!Rhett. Some language, lots of pining. I can't write a blurb to save my life.

Shoutout to @rae-gar-targaryen for reading over this and giving amazing feedback and being the reason why I was able to end this fic

You stood out like a sore thumb at the bar. 

The neon lights highlighted your sweet smile. How your eyes lit up and the corners around them crinkled. The way your nose slightly scrunched up as you waved your delicate hand to the bartender. The flex of your jaw as you called out your drink order.

Rhett couldn't take his eyes off you. Every motion, every little gesture, every small change was memorizing.

It made no sense to him that an angel like you was in a place like this. Not the bar, but Wabang of all the places. It just didn't add up. 

He was already three glasses of straight whiskey in. Normally that wouldn't bother him. Certainly wouldn't stop him from going up to you and making a move, just like he did with all the other buckle bunnies.

But that's not what you were. Rhett couldn't put his finger on it, but you were different somehow. He just knew it. So he just stayed in the corner of the bar, stealing glances when he could, observing you chat to other folks.

Disappointment flared through his heart when he saw you accept your check from the bartender. A whole night had gone by and all he had done was just stare at you.

Disappointment was beginning to morph into anger at himself when the most incredulous thing happened.

You peered up through your lashes, your bright eyes meeting his.

And then you smiled at him.

Your smile put him at ease. Rhett could feel all the tension leave his body, a lightness replacing the anger and bitterness he could never shake off until now.

By the time he had processed it, you were gone.

So Rhett looked for you everywhere after that night. He offered to go to the store, go into town for any little thing. He even went to church with Cecelia and Amy.

Not that he paid any attention to what the pastor was saying. Instead, his cerulean eyes searched for your face amongst the crowd, desperate for another encounter-one where he could actually talk to you.

Who needed heaven when you existed?

After no luck the following week, Rhett began to sink into despair. It was entirely possible  that you had just stopped by that one night, a pitstop in-between visits. It was entirely possible he would never learn your name, much less what your voice sounded like. You would just represent a million what-if's, a million regrets, a million-

"Can I get a gin and tonic?"

Rhett gripped the glass of whisky in his hand. The voice was sweet and lithe. It was comforting, like finding an old toy from your childhood that had been tucked away for many years.

Part of him didn't want to look, afraid to find disappointment. He shouldn't be afraid, considering all the disappointments life had handed him in the past.

Somehow he got the courage to look up. and suddenly, all the other nights he had come in to only leave alone and disheartened were worth it. There you were, at the bar, just a few feet away.

Rhett's eyes followed you as you grabbed your drink and walked over to a booth. You were alone.

Maybe you were waiting for other folks to show up. Maybe friends, maybe a date. Rhett's stomach lurched at the thought.

He didn't usually have a problem going up to girls and talking to them. In fact, he was known for it. He knew all the tricks; a tip of the hat to them, cranking up the drawl in his voice like a dial on an old radio, as he leaned in to whisper something dirty in their ear that he never meant, but it would get them into bed with him that night. 

And yet, the only thing he could (barely) get out when he walked up to you was, "Is-is this seat taken?"

You looked up to find eyes as deep as the sea staring at you.

A hesitant smile stretched across your face as you took him in. Meanwhile, Rhett was trying to count all the different hues in your eyes.

"Depends on what you're hoping to get out of it," you told him before taking another sip of your drink.

"A conversation?" He looked down at his feet, hoping you wouldn't be able to see that the tops of his cheeks were turning pink. Rhett feels himself flush with an uncommon sense of embarrassment, he feels stupid for thinking someone like you would want to talk to some cowboy who's more known for the notches on his bedpost than the number of successful rodeos he's been in.

Rhett was about to turn around, mumbling an apology when your voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I'd like that."

It wasn't until you motioned to the empty spot next to you that Rhett believed what you said.

Talking to you was the easiest thing he had ever done. The conversation flowed freely as you two talked about anything and everything under the artificial lights of the bar.

You were new to town. The reason Rhett never saw you throughout the day was because you were a teacher at the local elementary school. It was also why you didn't come to the bar that often. You taught fourth grade, the solar system was your favorite subject to teach and you had a cat named Rusty.

Rhett was a man of few words, except apparently when it came to you. For the first time since God knows when, he found himself comfortable talking about himself. What bull riding was like, growing up on a ranch, dumb shit he did in high school.

Every time self-doubt began to creep its way into his head, trying to tell him that no one, especially you, wanted to hear him, your bright eyes and sweet smile reassured him.

He liked it. He liked you.

Which was why when he saw sleep in your eyes, he said "We should do this again."

"I think we should," you grinned, the gesture making Rhett's heart flutter.

And so that's what you two did. You would meet up, sometimes at the bar, sometimes at the local diner. Occasionally, Rhett would take you out to the pasture and the two of you would lie in the bed of his trunk with pillows and blankets while you watched the stars.

No matter the location, the two of you would just talk, learning about each other as much as possible. Trying to make each other smile as much as possible.

"You have a great smile, you should show it more," you told Rhett, secretly enjoying how the tips of his ears were turning pink at your compliment.

"You make that easy," He muttered, slyly grinning at how your nose scrunched up, a tall tale sign that you were flustered.

It was true. Life was a lot easier to swallow when you were around. You were the highlight of his day and he counted down the minutes until he could see you again.

Rhett never thought about married life until you came along. He always assumed that wasn't for him, given his numerous failed attempts at being in a relationship. After Maria, he assumed that it just wasn't in him.

Perhaps there wasn't something wrong with him. Perhaps he had just been with the wrong people.

Because he could envision that life with you so clearly. It was easy to imagine with you. 

It was why Rhett saw red when he walked into the bar one night to see Billy Tillerson talking to you at the bar.

That shithead wasn't paying any attention to what you were saying, he was too busy staring at your chest.

At first, Rhett wanted to go over there and punch him. But then that would put you at risk of getting hurt. As much as Rhett would love to give Billy a broken nose, he didn't want to hurt you.

So he opted for the next best thing.

"Hey Rhe-" your words turned into a shriek upon Rhett picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Back off Tillerson," Rhett spat as he carried you out of the bar, ignoring your demands for him to put you down.

"What the hell was that about?!" You asked once your feet were back on the ground. You two were outside the bar now, ignoring the strange looks from the other bar patrons.

"Did you see how he was looking at ya? He didn't want to actually talk to ya," Rhett huffed.

"I figured that out within two minutes. But I was handling him just fine!" You placed your hands on your hips, matching Rhett's stance.

"I don't like him being around ya."

"And who are you to tell me who I can and can't be with?" It wasn't that you wanted to be around that Tillerson. Moreso you wanted Rhett to define what you two were. This dance you two had started had been going on for about a month now. It could end one of two ways: you and Rhett happy or you heartbroken. You'd rather know the ending now.

Rhett knew that too. Which was why he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"I'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children." His voice was soft. Ironic, considering his words took the air out of your lungs.

"Probably?" Was all you could get out.

"I mean....we haven't talked about kids yet," He said, a sheepish look mixing with his flushed cheeks. His cerulean eyes that you thought about every night before you went to sleep were now looking everywhere except you.

"You haven't even kissed me yet, Rhett."

“I mean….I can fix that right now,” He ran a hand through his dark blonde locks, attempting to display some confidence after his whisky-fueled confession, “If-if you want.”

It was clear as day that he was nervous. Not that you mind. You had heard the stories, had been given all the warnings from your friends about Rhett Abbott. That he was only interested in three things: rodeos, drinking, and fucking. That he only looked for something quick that would satisfy his needs that night, leaving in the morning to never talk to you again. 

But that’s not what happened when you met him. You were careful to keep your guard up, not that it was up for very long. Rhett broke down your walls, washed away all your hesitation with his attentiveness and sweetness he showered you in. When you spoke, he didn’t just listen. He hung onto your every word, like a child desperate to hear the end of their bedtime story before sleep took over. 

For a while, you knew that he actually liked you. Knew that if you did take him into your bedroom, he wouldn’t run away before you woke up. But knowing and seeing it in action were two different things. And in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt still sprouted. 

Until now. 

“I was beginning to think you never would,” You smirked. 

Now it was your turn to knock the air out of Rhett’s lungs just by a few words.

“Minx,” was all he could get out before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss. You could taste the remnants of whisky on his lips. The way his large hands were able to cup not just your jaw, but nearly your whole neck made you feel safe and secure. In that moment, nothing else mattered; not the bright neon lights that lit up the bar sign, or the onlookers telling you to get a room. All that mattered was that Rhett’s lips were soft and they were on yours. 

“How many kids ya want?” He asked after you two parted for some much needed oxygen. 

At first his words confused you, then you couldn’t help but chuckle when you made the connection, “At least three. Maybe four. Depends on how I feel when we get to our third one. You’re going to kiss me again, right?”

And Rhett was never one to refuse his lady.

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

@rhettabbotts @mothdruid @sebsxphia @theharddeck @sovereign-lights @mxgyver

[bippot]

Human Radiator blew my fucking mind!! It was so amazing!! Rhett being so smitten and awestruck of how in love he was with the reader was incredible!!

“You need to let me spoil you once in a while.” A smile crept across his face at that and she continued, “Need to take care of my pretty boy.” Every time she called him that, he became a mess of emotions, his chest growing warm and his heart racing. His eyes fell shut briefly as he leaned into her touch, the smell of her perfume invading his senses, his heart beating rapidly as he tried to calm himself down. It wasn’t fair, he thought to himself. How unfair was it that her scent could still affect him this way? That her touch still made his heart ache and his blood run hotter than it normally would when she was so close to him? But he wasn’t going to deny what had happened. He had gone too far to stop himself from falling for her, and he wasn’t about to start denying the feelings that he harbored anymore. “Love you, baby” he admitted sheepishly, almost shyly into the fabric of shoulder. HDFWKFGWHSKJDHSGH I CANT EVEN PUT INTO WORDS ABOUT HOW THAT PART MADE ME FEEL 😍😍🥹🥹🥰🥰 and also the part where the reader sat in Rhett’s lap while he ate and he kept asking her to say that she loves him was so sweet and just melted my heart!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lovely! So happy that you liked it :)

[filmtv2022]

All Series/Works Masterlist:

I'm going to compile my series masterlists & any standalone pieces that I write in this post (at least for now). The look of the list will change as I write more. Happy reading!

Please assume that ALL works are 18+

All reader pairings are written as female readers unless otherwise stated in the description

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

(Series) To The Bitter End: Doc Holliday x Earp!reader (completed)

15 Chapters (word count - approx. 47k)

Story Summary: The youngest Earp sibling joins her older brothers in Tombstone with the hope that the new climate will ease her consumption/tuberculosis symptoms and reconnect her family.  But as she settles into this new life, will she find something worth living for? Someone who can tame the loneliness? --------------------------------------------- (Series) By Your Side: Rhett Abbott x reader (completed)

23 Chapters (word count - 115k)

Story Description: Returning to Wabang was never something that Y/N had planned on, but with the loss of her father leaving her the sole owner of her family’s farm she must go back. Time spent at home forces Y/N to face the people she left behind. Will Y/N be able to navigate the murky waters of her past and present as the lines between them blur? 

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

(One-shot) One More Ride: Rhett Abbot x Reader

(18+ MDNI) Rhett & Y/N spend their last night in Wabang together. Pushing away the weight of the world by falling into one another's arms. 

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

(One-shot) When does it stop?: Jake Seresin x original character (reference to Bradley Bradshaw x original character)

Word Count - 397

Based on the thought of what would have happened if Bradley had been married before the Uranium mission, and Jake had been unable to save him and Maverick.

________________________________ (One-shot) Coming Home: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Reader

Word Count - approx. 5k

Story Summary: Mickey and Y/N are visiting Y/N’s hometown while away on leave. Shockingly, the pair find themselves invited to her childhood friend’s Halloween gathering. This might sound like a dream, but it’s been four years since Y/N’s had any real contact with her friend, but with a little encouragement she decided to face her fears and go. While Y/N expects awkwardness to ensue, she certainly never expected to catch a raging case of baby fever.  

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

(One-shot) Summer Haze: Robert 'bob' Floyd x Reader

Word Count: approx. 3k

Story Summary: After years of dancing around their feelings for one another, Y/N and Bob find their way back to one another at a community potluck.

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

(Mini-series - Completed)

Together: Jake 'Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Together Part 2: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Together Part 3: Jake 'hangman' Seresin x Reader

Word Count: approx. 6k

Story Summary: Y/N and Jake have been friends since their time at the Naval Academy. The two of them acting as each others’ refuge during every up and down. But when a death in the family rocks Y/N’s foundation the two are forced to acknowledge the reality that their feelings for one another go far beyond just a friendship.

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

(Series) Moving Foward Masterlist

Y/N Kazansky is many things. A loyal daughter, a world-class fighter pilot, and a fierce protector of those she holds most dear. But beyond the shiny exterior is a wounded woman looking to find her way back to the life she'd known and loved. When a mission brings her back to Top Gun, she is forced to confront the sins of her past while focusing on the uncertain future falling into place in front of her. 

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

(Series) (In the Bleak Midwinter)

Left with the dying wish of her husband, Y/N finds herself in Birmingham in search of one Thomas Shelby. Old wounds for both will be brought to light as the pair finds a way to heal from the hurt of the past together.

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

(One-shot) Every Part of You - Aziraphale x Reader

(One-shot) Ineffable Agony - Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley (gender neutral reader)

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Bad News

Pairings:Rhett abbot x reader

Warnings: mention of car accident, injuries

Thank you once again to the amazing @callsign-phoenix for proofreading for me.

This is my first Outer Range fic I’ve written and I was a planning on it having a part 2 but we will see. Let me know if you’d like me to do anymore parts.

You’d been sitting in a lay-by for the last hour with your coworker. It had been a quiet shift so far, with no calls, which was unusual for a Saturday night in Wabang. You’d only had one call so far and that was just to patch up some guys after a bar fight. Only 2 hours left and then you’d be finished for the weekend.

“Ugh, I hate waiting around,” Jen, your partner, said next to you, stretching out her arms over the steering wheel of the ambulance. “I feel like I’m on edge the whole time. 10 years I’ve been doing this and it still never gets any better.”

You laughed, taking a sip from your coke can. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hate waiting for something to happen.” You continued talking when a voice came through over the radio.

“We have a category one call. I repeat a category one call. An RTC just off the highway heading east. Two-car collision with 4 casualties. Are any units free to respond? I repeat, are there any units?”

“Guess that’s for us,” Jen said, picking up the radio. “Unit 402 responding.”

“Duty calls,” you said, doing up your seatbelt, as Jen pulled out onto the highway. You weren’t far from the accident and arrived in no time, the blue lights of the sheriff's cars illuminating the scene. As you approached a man stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms frantically. As you came closer, you saw his face illuminated in the headlights. “Perry,” you whispered, leaning forward onto the dashboard. “Oh my god, Perry!”

Before Jen had even stopped the vehicle you were out of the door and running towards him. “Perry, what happened? Where’s Rhett?” You asked frantically.

“No no no (y/n). What are you doing here? You're not… you’re not meant to be here. You can’t. Rhett said you were off the weekend.”

Perry looked panicked, he had a large gash across his forehead and he was holding onto his ribs.

“I… I swapped shifts so I’d be off with Rhett for his ride next week. I…” you stammered, adrenaline running through your veins. You composed yourself, you were here to do a job. “Perry, who is hurt? What happened?”

“Umm well, it was dark. Rhett and I were coming back from the bar and it was out of nowhere, I don’t know how… it was the Tillersons, they came out of nowhere and hit us and the truck flipped… I,” he gulped and ran a hand over his tear-stained face. “Rhett was driving and I…”

“No. No, he can’t,” you cried, trying to push past Perry who was holding you back, despite his injured arm.

“(Y/n)? What’s happening?” Jen came up behind you with both of your medical bags.

You stared at her, too shocked to speak.

“It’s Rhett,” Perry explained the situation to Jen, who nodded before making her way over to Rhett’s truck.

“(Y/n), I want you to go and check the Tillerson boys, ok? You can’t be dealing with Rhett, alrigh?. I’ll call for another team, and as soon as they are here you can be with him. Perry, go sit in the back of the ambulance.”

You froze for a moment before snapping back to reality and heading over to the other truck. Both the Tillerson boys had gotten away with light scratches and bruises. The police were already talking to the boys when you reached them. Sheriff Joy Hawk greeted you. You assessed Luke and Billy whilst she questioned them, you bit your tongue as they made up excuses. As you were cleaning the last of their wounds the second ambulance team turned up.

“You’re all done. You need to go to the hospital for an assessment, just to make sure. You can go in the second ambulance.” You grabbed your bag and as you walked away you turned back to look at them. “I swear to god if anything happens to my husband I will never forgive you.”

As you stood up Joy pulled you in for a tight hug. “It’s going to be ok (y/n). They’re not going to get away with this. I promise.”

You nodded at her as you sniffed, wiping your nose. “I, umm… I need to be with Rhett.”

Joy nodded, letting go of your shoulders and you turned to make your way over to the second ambulance.

You explained to the other EMTs what had happened and one of them went over to help Jen, while the other went to help the Tillersons into the vehicle. You reached the ambulance where Perry was sitting, his knee bouncing nervously. “You ok, Perry?” You asked him as you assessed the wound on his head and helped him put his right arm into a sling, it was almost certainly broken.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” He started sobbing. “I’m so sorry I didn’t look after him.”

“Perry. Perry listen to me, this is not your fault. I do not blame you and neither will Rhett. I promise you. But I need you to be strong now, ok? I need you to be strong for Rhett and I need you to be strong for me. Can you do that for me, Perry?” You asked, holding onto your brother-in law’s shoulder.

“Ok,” he mumbled.

“Ok good. Now I’m going to help the others with Rhett, ok? Just stay here and wait for us.” You picked up your bag and headed over to his truck.

As you approached Rhett’s truck Jen and the other EMT already had Rhett on a stretcher, neck brace secured and a tourniquet around his leg, above where a large shard of glass was protruding from his thigh. He had a large gash on the side of his head and his nose had been bleeding. He looked a mess and as you made eye contact with Jen you could tell it was bad.

“How bad is it, Jen?” You asked, lip quivering as the tears that had been building up threatened to fall.

“He has extensive bruises across his abdomen and multiple stab wounds where the glass shattered. (Y/n), I’m concerned he may also have a spinal injury, but we need to get him to the hospital ASAP so they can assess him further.” She nodded her head towards the second ambulance. “(Y/n), I think you should ride with the Tillersons in the other ambulance, I don’t think you should be involved with Rhett, ok, love? As soon as we get to the hospital you can be there for him as his family.”

You tried to protest but you knew she was right, you wouldn’t be thinking straight if you were looking after Rhett.

“Ok,” you gulped back the tears that were threatening to fall as you watched the love of your life secured in the back of the ambulance.

“I’ll be there with him, (y/n). I promise.” Perry said, placing a hand on your shoulder, it was his turn to comfort you.

“Thanks, Per,” you said, watching as Jen ushered Perry into the back before closing the door. She gave you a reassuring smile before going around to the driver's side. You made your way over to the other ambulance.

The trip to the hospital was silent. The other EMT, who you learned was called Ben, tried to make conversation where he could but you just didn’t feel like talking. Jen had messaged you when Rhett had been taken in and it seemed like an age before you reached them.

As soon as the ambulance pulled up outside you were out and heading straight to the front desk. The nurse directed you to where Rhett had been taken and when you reached the unit the doctor in charge told you he had been taken to surgery due to internal bleeding. His X-rays had shown that his collar bone was broken and his right leg was fractured, he also had multiple broken ribs and they were concerned he had spinal damage but couldn’t know for sure until the swelling went down. You were ushered to the waiting room where you joined Perry.

You sat in silence, Perry hugging you close as you cried. How could this be happening? You and Rhett had been married for 6 months and you had so many plans ahead of you. Only the other morning you were talking about having a baby. The wait felt like forever, your mind racing with the events of the evening. Perry had gone to get you both a coffee and his parents who said they would be there as soon as they could. Not long after he returned a doctor appeared. He approached you slowly, a solemn look on his face.

“Mrs Abbott, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @blue-aconite @imjess-themess @a-reader-and-a-writer @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden

[roosterbruiser]

"go to sleep, you haven't gotten any rest in the past couple of days" with Step Dad Rhett wanting to take care of baby so Mama can rest??

Forrest hasn't been sleeping well at all.

not even just the usual wake-up-every-two-hours-wanting-the-boob kind of not sleeping. it's different than that; your bouncing baby boy has been screaming through the night. already you've taken him to the pediatrician (or two or three) and they've all told you the same thing: he's teething. it''ll pass.

you're certain that it's much easier for them to say that when they're not the ones rocking a baby at three in the morning after precisely thirty-three minutes of actual sleep. and even if you had more grit, more patience, more energy, you would still be entirely deflated just hearing those pitiful cries from your baby boy. they puncture the still and quiet air inside your house--so much so that it sometimes makes the neighbors dog's howl.

so, you're spread thin. so thin that you're pretty sure you're see-through.

Rhett knows this as soon as you answer the door. he's smiling softly just in anticipation of seeing you--but when you swing the door open, Forrest tucked against your chest and wailing, that soft smile dissipates immediately.

"hey," you say, voice stained with tears. "c'mon in."

and then you're walking away from the door, wiping tired tears off your cheeks, sniffling hard. Forrest's little voice is ragged by now, but it hasn't stopped his upset.

"s'goin' on, darlin'?" Rhett asks, quickly stepping into the house and shutting the front door behind him.

he takes in the state of the house: the bottles on the table, the oragel infant on the couch, the unfolded blankets strewn over the chairs, the spinning record in the corner. his heart squeezes; you usually keep such a tidy house, it's important to you.

and if your house wasn't a dead giveaway, than the mere sight of you definitely is. hair thrown up lazily, shoulders practically sitting under your ears, tear-stained face, dry lips, unwashed body.

"teethin'. apparently."

you're still bouncing Forrest, pressing salty kisses against his tufts of brown hair, trying to soothe him.

Rhett feels a little bit out of his depth. he knew what it meant getting involved with you--it meant you and Forrest, always. he can't have one without the other and at this point, a few months in, he doesn't want one without the other.

he watches, wordlessly, from his spot on the entryway rug and racks his brain. how can he help you? tidy up the living room? let you shower? offer to take Forrest on a ride while you rest? he's chewing the inside of his cheek, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his Levi's when you suddenly turn and meet his gaze.

oh. you're exhausted. like the kind of exhausted that can fall asleep standing up like a horse. the kind of exhausted that makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"darlin'," Rhett starts softly, crossing the living room to stand before you.

if you were any less tired, you'd be embarrassed about your tears. but you just sniffle and look up at him, entire body pulsing and aching.

"I'm so tired," you say quietly, still bouncing. "I'm so tired that it's scarin' me, Rhett."

Rhett, with his breath held in his throat, gently swipes the tears from your face. you relish in the warmth of his rough palm, inhaling all that leather on his skin, and almost let your eyes flutter shut.

but then Rhett is taking Forrest from you, his eyes pouring into yours, reading every crease between your brows and pull of your lips. he doesn't wanna overstep.

you let him take Forrest--your arms falling limp at your sides, vibrating with tired.

and in Rhett's arms, Forrest looks tinier than ever. how could something that small make you feel this fucking tired? and all that tired, all that sadness, washes away entirely when Rhett presses a kiss to the top of Forrest's fuzzy head. he hasn't stopped wailing, not, not yet. but Rhett's got this. his arms are secured, his hands are in the right place, his nose is pressing against his head.

"we'll be alright, huh?" Rhett whispers to Forrest, pressing a few more kisses to the top of his head, inhaling all that milk and talcum powder on his skin. "'ve got this, huh, bubba?"

you're fairly certain that your heart is about to pump out of your chest and fall right onto the floor, staining the wood.

Rhett looks away from Forrest's ruddy cheeks up to your face, which is wet with tears all over again.

"s'wrong?" he asks you, securing Forrest against him before he reaches out to stroke your cheek. you fall into his touch and his throat aches with affection. "this okay?"

you nod profusely. you've just never seen a man love Forrest the way Rhett does. in fact, you've never seen any man love Forrest at all.

"m'so happy," you whimper.

a smile tugs at Rhett's lips.

"thought you were so tired it scared ya?" he says.

you shake your head, sniffling.

"not anymore," you tell him.

he nods. and when he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his scruff delicately scratching your skin, Forrest finally starts to quiet. he's still crying, sure, but Rhett reckons he would be, too, if he was cutting three teeth at once.

"get some rest, mama," Rhett insists, muffled from your own skin. "we've got this, alright? me and Forrest're gonna be just fine."

[sweetlittlegingy]

Deep In Her Heart, The Thunder Rolls

♤ Next Chapter | Blue Jeans Masterlist

♤ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Y/n "Tilly" Tillerson

♤ Word Count: 2.2 K

♤ Warnings: Fluff, Cuddly!Rhett, Horny!thots, Angst..

♤ A/n: It's just a blurb, a bit of setup for part 3...

♤ Library | Main Masterlist

To say that Rhett Abbott was sweet on you, was the understatement of the century. You left Wabang for college a year and a half ago, and though you “broke up,” the two of you remained faithful to one another.

I wasn’t that you had promised each other that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone else. No, you just could never find anyone that seemed better than Rhett. You were still in love with the man, and the fact that he came up to Bozeman at least once every 6 months, kept you more than satisfied.

The both of you had decided to keep your situation on a need-to-know bases, as in no one else needed to know. It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no it was more the fact that you were just both very private people, especially when it came to each other. Rhett had come up with an array of excuses to tell his family about why he was constantly going to Bosman.

From circuit business, to needing a new Stetson, to events, nothing was off the table when it came to seeing you. You thankfully had your own dorm room, meaning that no matter when Rhett showed up, he always had a place to stay. His appearances became so regular, that the dorm building security guard had come to know Rhett by name and would hold a conversation every time he visited.

Most of the time, Rhett’s visits ended with the two of you locked in your room for the whole weekend. Only ever coming out when you’d ordered food, or to go on the occasional date night. It wasn’t that you were to sex-crazed individuals, which you were, but the deep need that you both had to just be in each other’s presence was overwhelming.

You and Rhett were like a part of each other’s souls, as if at one point you’d been so deeply intertwined, that when you parted it was as if you could barely breathe. You had etched your mark on each other’s souls, and there would be no removing it.

…

Rhett was coming up for the weekend, and while you hadn’t seen him in two months, you talked every day. You had been working through your assignments, wanting to have everything finished and turned in before he showed up. The massive write-up for econ, had been time-consuming. The actual writing of the paper had been easy enough, though the hours you spent researching the economic downfall in the 1930s had been studious and mind-numbing.

You loved school, really, but between the tutoring and honor society, you were more than ready for a chill, relaxing weekend with Rhett.

Clicking submit on the paper, you glance at your phone, and two unread messages flash across the screen. One from Rhett stating that he was just pulling into the dorm parking, and the other from Daniel, a guy that you’d been “helping” in classes.

Hey T, did you finish up that chemistry assignment? It's due Sunday.

Alright, so maybe you weren’t just helping, but Daniel was a busy guy and paid you well for the work you did.

Yeah, I emailed it to you this morning, but my venmo isn’t working. I need cash.

You type out the message and hit send, throwing your phone back onto your bed as a knock sounds at your door. You're up and moving without a second thought for the outfit you're wearing, the booty shorts barely peeking out from under one of Rhett’s oversized hoodies. Your hair in a clear mess atop your head, barely being held up by the claw clip.

You pull open the door swiftly, only to find Rhett talking with your neighbor, the bitch. Every time Rhett was over, she made goo-goo eyes at him. Clearly trying to get in his pants, you’d think she would have gotten the message after hearing you scream Rhett’s name during every visit.

Rhett turns to you when you open the door, though your eyes are focused on Danica. Your hand grasps at the shirt Rhett is wearing, and tug him harshly into the room. Your eyes never leave Danica as she glares at you, a fake smile plastered on your lips before you rudely slam the door in her face.

“Tilly, that wasn’t very nice.” The teasing, yet cocky tone in his voice has you rolling your eyes.

“I don’t like sharing, Abbott.” Your voice clipped and harsh, as your eyes soften when looking up into his own.

One hand settles to rest on his abdomen, as the other wraps up around his neck. You deliver a harsh tug, pulling Rhett down and slotting your lips against one another. You can feel Rhett’s smile against your lips, his hands drop down around your waist, slip beneath the hoodie and tap your ass, signaling you to jump.

You waste no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, both arms curling around his neck. One slipped up to grasp the Stetson atop his head, pulling away from the kiss for a second and tossing the hat onto your desk. The idea of your lips being apart is clearly displeasing to Rhett. As one of his hands slips from underneath your ass, to grasp your cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger, pressing his lips back against yours.

Your lips work against each other, hot needy kisses pass between you. Your tongues work in tandem against each other, pushing and pulling in a network of want and passion. You don't even notice that the pair of you have moved until Rhett has you pressed against your mattress.

The pressure of his belt buckle against your cunt has you bucking your hips, and a wanton moan slips past your lips.

“Hold on, sugar.”

Rhett pulls away, his hand slips up to cradle you face, thumb brushing against your swollen bottom lip.

“Just let me look at you.”

Your face nuzzles into the palm of his hand, kissing it gently. The blue in Rhett’s eyes shines bright, and the small specks of green peek out from behind his iris. His stare makes you blush, it was always like he could see right into your soul. Moments like this were always more vulnerable than any other time, even in moments when you were naked and exposed.

“I missed you.”

The comment slips past your lips, so quiet and gentle. Though it causes Rhett to smile, before pressing a small against your lips. Foreheads resting against one another, the weight of his body settles against your own.

“I missed you, Til.” Noses bopping against each other, before Rhett is standing. Slipping the button-up off his shoulders, the clank of his buckle releasing sounds, as he pushes his pants to the floor. He motions towards you to sit up, his hands reach for the bottom of the hoodie, slipping it from your form.

“Think this is mine, darlin’.

“Did you bring me a new one? It doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

He laughs slightly at your question, reaching to tug your shorts off. Leaving the both of you in your underwear and pulling you to lay on his chest as you settle on the bed.

“Don’t I always?”

Your head nods against his chest, knowing that every time Rhett came up, he brought you a sweater that he’d been wearing. You told them that the smell of his aftershave had comforted you and had made you feel like you weren’t so far apart.

The warmth of his body seeps deep into your bones, and your eyes start to drift off. The stress of the week fades from your hold, as Rhett runs a single hand up and down your spine.

“Sleep Tilly.”

The last thing you remember is a soft kiss being placed against the crown of your head, both yours and Rhett’s breath settling out into a slow rhythm, encased by sleep.

…

The loud knocking at your door wakes you and Rhett up, stretching up to place a sweet kiss against Rhett’s lips, you slowly move from the bed. Though Rhett reaches out, holding on to your waist, as he whines into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles you and you can’t help but to giggle.

Your bubble is once again, popped as the knocking ensues again. Rhett finally releases you, so that you can pull on the hoodie and shorts. Glancing back over your shoulder you laugh at the sight, Rhett laid out on your bed, arms tucked behind his head, in nothing but his boxers. The sight makes your toes curl in want, your eyes racking up his form. To find a wide smile directed at you, his baby blues shimmering with mischief.

“Y/n, open the damn door.”

Daniel's voice has you moving again, grasping the handle of the door and ripping it wide open. Had you ripped it open so wide, in hopes that Danica would once again be lurking and see an almost naked Rhett spread out? Yes, though your hopes are dashed away when you see it’s only Daniel.

 “Hey D, come on in.”

His eyes move behind you, settling against Rhett who waves a hand slightly. Not moving an inch from his spot, clearly comfortable in his skin.

“Baby, this is Daniel.” You motion between the two, eye’s finding Daniel’s. “D, this is Rhett.”

Each of them exchanging pleasantries, though nothing more. You push off the door, where you had been leaning, and reach under your desk in search of the chemistry binder from last year.

You find the worn binder and toss it to Daniel, eyes tracing to see if you have anything else that might help him.

“That’s all my notes from Granger's class last year. More than enough to help you pass tests and I can finish out the papers. But I want extra for the final, I’m gonna have a packed schedule with just my work.”

Rhett silently watches you, his sweet girl is hard-assing this massive guy and making demands. He always liked it when you were bossy, he thought it made you look hot. That fire in your eyes, always set him a light.

Daniel slips two crisp hundred dollar bills in your palm and glances back to Rhett, who only smiles wider. You laugh at him, your eyes rolling, and then look back toward Daniel.

“That’s fine,” He shakes the binder at you slightly, with a grateful smile. “Thanks, for this too.”

You give him another smile, and move to open the door for him. Trying to be polite, but more than ready to be back in bed with Rhett.

“Alright, it was nice meeting you.” Another wave passes between the two men, then Daniel is out the door. Calling a ‘thanks again’ over his shoulder as he leaves.

You turn around on your heel, and a smile spreads across your face seeing Rhett in your bed. Before he has time to react, you’re moving for the cowboy, jumping up in his lap and snuggling up against his neck.

“Quiet the criminal, aren’t you?” his teasing tone has you laughing in his neck, arms, and legs wrapping around him like a koala.

“Daniel doesn’t have the time, and I like the extra cash.”

Rhett hums against the crown of your head, his arms wrapping around you in a tight grip.

“Long as you’re being careful, baby. Don’t think I missed the tattoos, I’m not stupid darin’.”

A heavy sigh is released from your chest, you pull away from Rhett so that you’re sitting in his lap. His hands automatically find home on your hips under the hoodie, gentle circles from his thumb rubbed into your hip bones.

“Look I know. Daniel is into some shady stuff, but he’s always been nice to me and if I called him for anything, he would be there.” Your fingers spin in your lap, a nervous habit. “It’s just nice to know that without you here, I have someone else that has my back. I don’t trust guys in general, but especially on campus.”

Rhett notices your slight nervous nature, and the tone you have when you mention the guys living on the campus. He’d seen them enough and known right away that they were douchebags, but you had never mentioned having trouble.

“There something I need to know about baby?”

The term of endearment has you glancing up, loving how sweet the tough cowboy could be with you.

“I had some problems when I first moved in, but Daniel ended them almost instantly. I didn’t wanna worry you, you already have so much going on.”

Your eyes causally avoid Rhett’s, already feeling bad that you’ve kept it from him. Rhett moves you sit up, and pulls you so your flush with his chest. So close that your eyes can’t help but to look at each other.

“Tilly, I don’t care what is going on in my life. You tell me from now on, please?”

It was rare to hear Rhett ask anyone ‘please,’ and the tone in his voice makes your stomach clench in pain. The thought of hurting him, even if it was on accident, was the worst possible thing you could think of happening. He was your person and you’d only ever kept it from him because you thought you were protecting him.

“I’m sorry baby, never again.”

The placement of your lips against his is out of the pure need to express your love, to prove how much he really meant to you.

“Promise?” The question whispered against your lips.

“I promise.”

…

I was a promise that you kept,

until you couldn’t.