#sub!rhett

[rinkyrinkyrinky]

Suddenly remembered Link holding Rhett's waist gently at 2am

[casperghosty]

I can't get over how Link says "Good Boy" 🫠🥵😳

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

I have to ask about 'Make Me, Take Me, Break Me and Then We Snuggle' because that title is just awesome.

(Re: this post) hey, lovely anon! ❤️

This one was requested by @unhinged-nymph also.

That title is from ye olden days when I wasn't as boring and would name wips in silly ways. :D When I organized my writing I couldn't change it even though it's a monster.

That wip is very old, probably from 2019. Honestly, it might belong to the abandoned folder but I still haven't been able to let it go.

The premise: Link figures out Rhett has a bit of a submissive streak without him even really knowing it. Link is already familiar with domming and they enter into a platonic, non-sexual power dynamic relationship that eventually turns sexual.

Here's a little unedited snippet from the beginning (sfw):

It started small. One late evening they were in their office, still working on a project. Both of them were a bit on the edge; it had been a stressful week with unforeseen circumstances and unusual mishaps. Good Mythical Summer was getting closer and they had been filming like crazy to get the content ready in time for their vacation.

For the last hour they’d been bickering about a certain aspect of the script and Link was getting frustrated. And to top all that off, he was getting thirsty. Usually he’d just get himself a drink from the kitchen, probably ask if Rhett wanted something as well. But right now he was annoyed at Rhett and tired of his constant push backs.

“Get me a La Croix.” The words just spilled out of him – not angry, just resolute – like he knew Rhett would obey.

Rhett got up instantly and walked out of the office without saying a word. Link was startled by the sudden movement. He hadn’t actually expected Rhett to go. Link was sure Rhett would come back with a can just for himself and go on a rant about how Link doesn’t have manners. And when Rhett returned with just one can Link was sure he’d been right. He bristled. He was readying himself for the snippy exchange of words.

Link was more than surprised when Rhett just handed the drink to him and sat back down. Link stared at the can, dumbfounded. It was like a breath of fresh air. The day had been a constant struggle; every meeting an uphill battle. Asking something and just getting it… It probably shouldn’t have felt this good but it lit up something hidden in Link’s brain. He glanced at Rhett who was already absorbed in the word document on his laptop. Link waited for him to say something but Rhett stayed silent. The can opened with a hiss and Link took a deep gulp. Link instantly felt refreshed and calmer. 

“Thank you, Rhett,” he said empathically. Maybe this was Rhett’s unspoken way of apologizing for the tension between them. A small smile spread across Rhett’s face and Link could have sworn his cheeks got a hint of red on them. Rhett didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

[evilhorse]

But, even in a woman who’s as liberated as she wants to be, something there still is which melts at the Rhett Butler approach…

[delopsia]

Please | Rhett Abbott X Reader

Word Count: 1,800 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, handjobs, very brief edging. This post was brought to you by cheap wine.

It's not easy breaking Rhett down; it's not easy to dominate a man so rough at the edges, who keeps his power under an iron fist, oh so rarely yielding to another. Getting him to the point that he will squirm and beg is painstaking, but oh, when he does.

It's not that Rhett doesn't let you have your way; if you ask, he gives it to you, but there's a difference between a man laying back and letting you touch him and a man so desperate for your touch that he's in tears.

Your whole plan started when you were at a bar with Rhett, listening to one of your friends talk about how she broke down that stable hand across the bar until he begged her to let him cum. Hadn't thought much about it until it slipped out of Rhett's mouth.

"I'll never understand begging to cum," he said offhandedly, with his lips wrapped halfway around his beer.

Such a tiny comment, one that took only seconds to say and forget about, sparked a morbid curiosity in the back of your head. Just how hard would it be to bring him to that point? Teasing him over and over until he's crying, begging, trembling, all for you, all because of you.

You started out slow; always have to when it comes to Rhett. He's observant to a fault, sensitive to change, always seems to know when something is up. There's a fine line you straddle as you take up extra shifts, agree to go out with your friends more than often, subtly disrupting your active sex life without seeming suspicious. Even the Lord knows Rhett is a stubborn bastard that will only fold when he's desperate.

There's a point where you almost ditch your plans completely; when Rhett's fresh off his last bull ride of the night, and he's quietly kissing up your neck, murmuring about how long it's been, how bad he wants you.

"Darlin'," hardon pressed against the curve of your ass, "what do you say we get out of here, hm?" Hot breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it, nips at it with a sharp tooth.

God, how are you to deny him when he asks you so sweetly? Surely one time couldn't hurt.

Your falter only played into your hand, it seems, because the next morning, Rhett barely lets you leave for work, does this sleepy grabby hands thing as he whines for your attention.

"You're so busy anymore," he pouts in between kisses, "this was the most I've cuddled you in weeks." Begging in the most indirect of ways.

It's hard to stay away. Dragging yourself to work feels like walking into the gates of hell, and you're only able to do it by reminding yourself that your plan is almost ready to execute.

Almost.

Perry unintentionally sets the events of the night into motion.

The rodeo is in some tiny town you've never heard of, consisting of nothing but a gas station, a bank, and a handful of trailer homes that don't look too inhibited. It doesn't even have bleachers, and you're thankful that Rhett's mom packed some lawn chairs. Even more so when Perry plants his ass in your chair and gives you the perfect excuse to settle down in Rhett's lap.

"You best not be creating problems that you don't intend to solve, sweetheart," he murmurs in your ear, low and breathy, but he does nothing to stop the subtle squirming of your ass against his cock. One unintentionally bold move has him twitching against you, a soft little noise leaving his lips.

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for him, he has to get up and get ready for his ride. You don't miss how his eyes linger on you as he walks away like he's hoping you'll follow him. You don't.

Rhett's the one to find you next. All of a sudden, your back is hitting the concrete wall outside the bathrooms, and your senses are clouded by a sweaty, needy cowboy.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He grumbles in between the kisses he's peppering you with, teeth nipping at the juncture of your jaw. A heavy hardness presses against your hip, rubbing incessantly against you.

"I have a little bit of an idea," there was a follow-up to that statement, but Rhett's covering your lips with his own, hungrily licking into your mouth like a man starved. Dizzying, hot, desperate. So commanding that you think he just may get what he wants right here and now, with the whole rodeo as your witness, and yet when you cup him through his jeans, he jumps.

"I need you," he almost whines, right against your lips, "fuck, I need you, sweetheart."

Close, but not close enough. You want to hear him say please, need to hear him beg, first.

His rodeo buddies are an unintentional saving grace, crowing his name as loud as they can, flagging him back down. He's next up to ride, and for a second, you're concerned he may quit bull riding right then and there.

"Go get 'em, cowboy," squeezing him just to get that little gasp out of him.

His second ride is an absolute whirlwind that has your breath in your throat; he is absolutely glued to that bull — sexual frustration always did add to his stubbornness. The moment Rhett is on the other side of the fence, you're disappearing to rejoin Cecelia and the rest of his family. Rhett's usually good about minding around his mother, but as he rounds that corner, you're afraid he may just jump your bones.

Cecelia has plans, things to see, and booths of home goods to visit. She's in the middle of debating with Royal on which cast iron skillet to get. While just a few feet away, her son pants filthy noises into your ear, reddened from incessant nibblings. He's like a teething puppy.

"Baby," he breathes, God, it's almost pitiful what you've done to him, and all you've done is touch him through his jeans.

Fine, you'll give him a hint.

"What's the magic word?"

He stiffens, a little hitch in his breath, and then, "please." Barely audible, carried away with the wind.

Tilting your head to meet his eye, "I didn't hear you."

His adam's apple bobs as he tilts his head to look at his parents, then back at you, "please." It's shaky and uncertain, but it's there.

It's not easy to make a man like Rhett tremble, but oh, is the site below you worth it.

Naked, pale skin shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that glistens as his entire body trembles against the wine-red comforter. His hips squirm as your palm strokes up his twitching shaft, toned stomach contracting as you press a kiss to it.

"Feels good," murmured into the sheets, "fuck, it feels good."

He's close; you know it in the way his jaw slackens, forgoing his efforts to stifle the soft, barely there whines that emanate from the back of his throat. So close to an audible sound, yet a far cry from the sob that falls from his lips when your hand abruptly leaves.

"Please," like a mantra, over and over, "please, baby, please let me cum."

Your fingers trace up and down his pale thighs, watching in earnest at how he squirms at your touch; his body feels like it's on fire, burning hot everywhere your hands roam. The closer your hand draws to his cock, the tighter he's wound, stilling until even his lungs have frozen.

Your palm wraps around him once more, and it's like you've squeezed that halted breath right out of him, deflating as you finally, finally give him the attention he's begging for.

"Please don't stop," he shudders, bites down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to swallow down the pretty whimper that ripples out of him.

It's a noise that rarely graces your ears, loud and unmistakable, something he tries so hard to keep at bay. It's your favorite sound of his, prides you every time you hear it because only you are able to draw such a sound out of your stubborn cowboy. Not anyone else, not the buckle bunnies, and not that girl who's been pursuing him ever since she got back from college, only you.

"Do you want to cum?" You purr, working up a painstakingly slow rhythm that you know isn't enough.

Watery blue eyes flicker open, "please." He's irresistible like this. Needy, writhing against the sheets as you take him apart, brick by brick. His hair is an absolute wreck, stuck to his sweaty forehead and pinkened cheeks. What a sight for sore eyes.

"Darlin', please," weaker this time, hips bucking up into your palm; he's close again.

You're far too happy to give him what he wants. Squeezing just a little tighter, moving just a little faster, flicking your wrist the way you know he likes. His jaw falls open, graces you with even more of those whimpers you so rarely get to hear.

Large fingers wrap around your free hand, fumbling until he can hold it, squeeze it, "I'm—"

His words are lost as his body arches off the bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head just before they can squeeze shut. Thick ropes of hot cum shoot across his toned stomach, coating your hand.

For a moment, the only sound that pierces the silence is the soft squelch of your wet hand around his cock, and then he's coming down. Whimpering softly as your hand continues to work his tender cock, up and down at that same wicked pace until he's squirming away from it. Every breath he takes is shuddering, thighs twitching even as your hand slips off of him.

His hand doesn't let go of yours, even as you reach up to wipe away the stray tear that managed to work its way down his rosy cheek. He sniffles and then, "good fuckin' lord, sweetheart."

There he is.

Rhett only lets go of you for a minute, just long enough to let you fetch a warm cloth to clean up the pearly white mess pooling on his stomach. A process that doesn't take more than a minute or two but is long enough to have him reaching for you the moment you step back through the threshold.

"C'mere," he grumbles, and as soon as his fingers find purchase on your waist, you're being dragged under the covers.

The lightest of trembles still remain, quaking through his body in waves, even as his head comes to settle on your chest, your fingers combing through his tangled hair.

"You alright?" He'd never used his safeword, didn't even mouth it, and yet you're still hesitant to ask.

Rhett squeezes you just a little tighter, tilting his head up to plant a wet kiss on your jaw, "never been better, doll."

There's no doubt he's gonna get you back for this; too stubborn to let go of his competitive steak that easily. He'll probably be between your legs within the hour, giving you a taste of your own medicine until he's confident that he's gained the upper hand.

You'll worry about that later; for now, you're happy to just enjoy the fruits of your efforts.

[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…”

[beachbabey]

enoch enoch, okay hear me out. breeding kink with rhettt right?? OKAY BUT LISTEN….. breeding kink with sub!rhett

oh, anon you know me so well… 🥺🥺🥺

"You gonna fill me up, my good boy?" you purr to him, sinking down onto his cock at a painfully slow pace, watching his face for every minuscule expression, every bead of sweat to run down his temples, every flutter of his eyelashes, every inch of his neck that he bared to you when you clench around him.

"Yes..fuck...god. Please!! Need it inside you. Please, Bambi. Need you to take my cum, please, please.. I'll be good……be a good boy for you Bambi”

He’s blubbering utter nonsense at this point, so pussydrink he can’t even open his eyes fully, his jaw going slack and a small puddle of drool forming at the corner of his mouth that makes you slow your pace and lean down to lap up and pressing a small chaste kiss there, showing him a little softness before setting a merciless pace with your hips, clenching every time your hips crash down on to his. Gritting your teeth and ignoring the burning ache in your thighs.

"Come on then, come for me, put a fuckin' baby in me, Abbott"

[mith-gifs-wrestling]

As far as I can tell, this is the only time Kenny Omega and Stu Grayson shared the ring pre-AEW... but here in 2009 they synced up pretty well!

[christinered]

It's about to become most uncomfortable.

You aren't going to like this at all.

Oooooh but I will.

Ready?

~Red

[rinkyrinkyrinky]

Rhett McLaughlin and his obsession with being a good boy

[snugglebabylink]

R is for randy, a friend i wish i had H is for harry, another friend i wish i had is for hairy, his head is covered in it 🦁 E is for eccentric because his opinions surprise me T is for top this! T is for ha take that!

M is for micro 👀 C is for cabbage L is for laughs for days A is for just accept yourself dude, you're too old to change U is for u are a friend G is for gosh, your last name sure is long H is for hey! i know you, man 😜 L is for long walks I is for intricate. look at all the pieces N is for neal. his best friends last name 🙋‍♂️ 

bought to you by Charles Lincoln Neal III, 2022

[delopsia]

DEL PLEASE IGNORE THIS REQUEST / THOUGHT IF SUCH THINGS ARE CLOSED BUT 💃🏽 i was re-reading wildflowers and... pillow princess rhett? 💐 he went from strictly riding your strap to letting you lay him the fuck down? 👀🎤 would you mind elaborating?

the way in which I have needed a few DAYS to process this concept, oh my god, okay, okay. I didn't mean for this to turn into 2,600 words, but it did?? 😭

The process of turning Rhett into a pillow princess is like a game of tug of war. It's a wonder how you've even got him riding a strap in the first place. 

When you first brought it up, he just laughed and asked if you were playing another one of those cute pranks you found on the internet. But you weren't laughing, and his ears were slowly turning bright red as he stuttered out a meek "absolutely not."

Alright. Worth a try, but you can't say you're surprised about his answer. He's still figuring out that he's allowed to be human and not be called weak for it. He probably needs a good decade or two before he can even talk about the concept without crawling out of his own skin. 

But when you tumble around in the bench seat of his pickup, and he squirms out of those old, faded blue jeans, you know something is amiss. There's no need for them to come off, not when his zipper works just fine. 

What you don't know is that Rhett's been regretting telling you no for weeks. He can't quit thinking about it; the longer it floats around his head, the more he wants to go back on his word. So, so curious, but he's already given you an answer; he's afraid to go back on that. 

The only thing that can worm it out of Rhett is the lack of impulse control that comes when he's tired.

"Ya remember that thing," even now, with his cock in your mouth, he's so nervous about bringing it up that he's about to climb out the window and flee the country, "that you suggested, with the..." and the words are too heavy for his tongue to lift. The simple idea of saying it out loud has his tongue bolted to the floor of his mouth.

At first, he's convinced he's made a mistake. Your curious fingertips tickle, and it's such an odd sensation to feel someone prod around inside of you. But then you're hitting something, and he's absolutely hooked on it. Just say the word, and he's so ready to go that his thighs are trembling before you've even got him undressed. 

But Rhett Abbott is finicky as all hell. He'll drive his truck through a burning building, but if anyone else is in the driver's seat, he freaks out.

 Your fingers are one thing. Small, doesn't quite reach as deep as the strap does. It hardly bugs him if he's in control or not because he knows he can easily reach down and pull them out. Such a small intrusion that it doesn't phase him.

The strap is something else entirely. You've asked him about it before, but he doesn't know how to explain it. Deep down, he knows it's just you; you're the only person who seems to get him, the only one who he can truly be himself around. And yet, letting you lay him down and fuck him as he does you...

it scares the hell out of him.

Maybe it's the unfamiliarity with it all, the lack of control, submitting to and taking whatever it is you choose to give him. Or maybe it's the overwhelming vulnerability that comes with having someone quite literally inside of you. Whatever it is, he struggles with it.

There's one afternoon when you almost get him there. 

You've just gotten home from a long weekend at an out-of-state rodeo; Rhett's exhausted; you're a little car-sick from Perry's shit driving, and both of you are struggling not to jump each other's bones. Rodeo nights almost always end in sex; there's no better way to burn off that excess adrenaline and energy. 

But you've spent the past two nights sharing a hotel room with Rhett's nosey parents because Perry can't even book a hotel room without fucking it up. Two nights in a row, you and Rhett have stumbled out of those rodeo grounds, lip-locked, halfway out of your clothes, so, so close to getting what you want. Only to be interrupted by Rhett's nosey mother wondering where he is.

Rhett's pulled something in his back, but he's babbling about wanting you to ride you, and it's not quite possible with how those muscles ache once he's on top of you. He tries, fuck, he really tries, but he can't even straddle you without wincing.

So here you've got him, pale thighs wrapped around your hips while you gently ease his favorite strap into him. It's rather new, the thickest one in the collection, and somewhat short compared to the others, but he loves the stretch of it. 

"How're you feeling?" You're only halfway in, guided by the hand on your waist that tells you when to move and when to stop. 

A thin sheen of sweat covers his chest, glistening as it rises and falls with deep breaths that whistle through his dry throat. Eyelashes flutter, hips shifting up.

"Lil' further," he croaks, licking his lips. But as you do just that, you watch that thin ring of muscle clamp down, and he yelps, "stop, stop, stop—!"

You've already stopped, but it's too late. You recognize that torn look in his eye, tied between want and nerves. Nerves that ultimately win because he can't relax around the silicone again. 

"I can't," breaking eye contact, he turns to hide his face in the pillow, "it's not...I don't think I can..."

The night ends much differently than anticipated. Sleepy, slow sex that's made up of more kisses than anything else. He gave it a shot, and he recognized when he couldn't do it, that's all that matters to you.

You'd be lying if the fantasy of laying Rhett the fuck down and ruining him didn't plague you. It visits you in your dreams and sits in the back of your head while you're at work. Alas, you can always satiate those wonders with the pretty sight of Rhett's thighs straining as he rides you. 

"Gotta be ready for that rodeo tomorrow," he says like it's a believable excuse. You and he are both very aware that he's becoming addicted to this. 

For a while there, you forget about it. 

Until Rhett's last rodeo of the season comes around, and, although he ultimately wins, he pays the price for it. Somewhere between falling off the bull and landing, the animal turns around and blindly runs him over. The announcer calls it Wabang's most crushing win yet.

"I 'oughta step on you myself," you hiss, but your words carry no venom. You wish they did, there's an attempt to mix it in there, but it fades when you realize he's trying for a hello kiss. 

"'m sorry," words murmured between stolen kisses, "if it helps, I'd much rather you bein' the one to step on me."

Bruises decorate his skin like polka dots, his left hand has been stepped on, a few fingers dislocated, and his ankle isn't broken, but it's close enough to it that a hospital visit is necessary. There are more injuries than meets the eye, a mild concussion slipped past the initial checks, and he's got a gnarly cut on the back of his head that requires some stitches. The nurse wants to keep him overnight, but Rhett may actually implode.

What isn't damaged, though, is his sex drive.

Actually, you think it has only increased. Until he's allowed to walk without that boot on his foot, he's stuck in crutches that his injured hand can barely hang onto, forcing him off the ranch until further notice. A rare opportunity for him to spend a few weeks with you. Nothing to take him away, and only hand him back when he's so exhausted that he can barely walk. 

But he's got nothing to do. 

Movies on the couch only go so far. He's been busying himself with sneaking out to bring you lunch while you're at work and has been putting in his every effort to understand this golf game on his laptop, but he's bored. All of a sudden, he has time to think, and he hates it. Thinking leads to images of you appearing in his head, and those images lead to a familiar tightening in his sweatpants.

A tightening that he can't do a goddamn thing about because his dominant hand can barely even hold a cup, never mind wrap around his cock. It just feels weird with the other one. 

Then comes a morning when he wakes up in your bed, and his mind starts wandering.

And it wanders

and it wanders. 

To how much he wishes he were able to ride you in this state, to how he misses the stretch of that pink strap, to how wonderful that silicone feels against his prostate. It's hard to avoid; he knows where you keep those toys, and his eyes dart in that direction every chance they get. He turns on a sad movie. Talks to his momma for an hour and a half. Bakes those cookies you forgot to put in the oven and sits in front of it, watching them the entire time.

but

he

just

can't

quit

fucking

thinking

about

it.

When you come home that afternoon, you're pleasantly greeted by the aroma of freshly baked cookies wrapping around you like a warm hug on a winter day. They're already put away, the baking sheet freshly washed and drying on the rack, with no sign of Rhett to be found.

"Rhett?" You don't know what you expected, but you didn't expect...this. 

There, laying in that clawfoot bath, his good arm draped across the rim, chin propped on top of it, is Rhett. From a distance, he looks like he's just woken up, but as you step into the bathroom, you recognize that it's more resigned frustration than anything else.

"When you get the chance," he's staring off into the distance, eyes glazed over, sounding something like a zombie, "will you please try to fuck me again?"

They say a cold shower helps, but as you help him out of the tub, you realize that it must not apply to baths because he's completely unaffected. Hard, wetly smacking against his thigh so loud that it echoes, evoking a laugh out of both of you. 

On your first pass through the bedroom, you hadn't noticed the lubricant sitting on the bedside table, but it's the first thing your eyes land on once you're settled between his pale legs. You don't recall leaving it there; it's been a few days since you last used it, but it doesn't take you long to figure out how it wound up there.

"You loosened yourself up for me?" It's more of an observation than a question; Rhett's tight. It usually takes a few minutes just to work him up to two fingers, but you've already got three in him, working in and out in slow strokes.

"My good hand turns out to be useful after all," that smugness melts away the second you walk your fingers up the underside of his cock, so worked up that even this is heaven. 

And, so, here you are. 

In that same position you were the last time, Rhett's pretty legs wrapped around your hips, squeezing you tight as you push his favorite pink strap into his loosened hole. But this time is different.

His legs are urging you faster, deeper, too impatient to let you move at your own pace, head resting against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering. Those blue eyes are so dark that they look brown, glossed over with a frenzied want; it's intoxicating to look at. Your hips come flush together, nothing else for him to take, and with a soft gasp, he smiles.

"How do you feel?" You murmur, running your hand up his chest, watching how his back arches up into your touch.

"Fuckin' full," his voice is strained, always gets like this in the beginning, "y'can move."

Tentatively, you draw back, only about halfway, then push back in. Rhett's eyes flutter wide open, the whites so bright in this dim bedroom, before they flutter shut with the softest whimper you've ever heard. You repeat it; he grabs ahold of the headboard. 

Over the years, you've put in the hard work of teaching Rhett that he's allowed to make noise in bed; you want to hear those breathy little sounds, but never have you heard him quite like this. The sounds you're fucking out of him are downright filthy, whining high in his throat, gasping for breath around strangled moans, whimpering with every long thrust in. 

Grabby hands reach up for you, "closer," the word quite literally punched out of him by a twitchy thrust; your hips aren't quite used to this yet, "please, please, I want...I want..."

It feels strange to settle onto your forearms, caging his head in much as he does to you, but oh, is it nice. You're starting to see why Rhett does the things he does; there's nothing quite like feeling those strong hands cling to your shoulders, dull nails lightly scratching. 

"Fuck, fuck, please keep doin' that," he doesn't even need to tell you; there's nothing you want to see more than his back arching up into your short thrusts, cock bouncing against his belly as he tries to stifle his sounds. "Feels good, baby, that feels so—ah~!"

That's not all, though; no, he lets you roll him over and fuck him from behind. Face against the pillow, peeking over his shoulder. Gets a little impatient when you stop to admire the view, cock heavy between his legs, ass so soft and squishy in your hand. 

"Y'g'nna take a fuckin' take a picture or somethin'?" He grunts, muffled by the pillow. And actually, now that he's given you the idea...

By the time you slide back into him, he's gotten needy again, babbling into the pillow as you fill him up. This position is easier for you, one hand between his shoulder blades, pinning him down while you fuck him with those long, slow strokes that have his legs kicking against the bed. 

"You don't, that's—hah!" Weakly, one hand reaches out to grasp your wrist, like you'll fly away if he doesn't. "That's mean."

Taking your hand off his shoulders, you reach beneath him, taking hold of his neglected length and watching him jump, "what were you saying?"

He's going to get you back for that one later, but right now, all he can do is bury his face into the pillow and take what you give him. Pushing his ass back into your thrusts, meeting you halfway, fucking himself in and out of your loose hand. He doesn't need much, not by a long shot. The muscles in his back begin to ripple, tightening as his whimpers gradually become pitchier. 

"Come on, cowboy," you coo, smug, "cum for me." And with the faintest whimper, his left leg kicks against the mattress, and he paints your hand white.

What you don't realize at the time is that you've created a monster.

Now that Rhett's had a taste, he's hooked. All you have to do is give him a certain look, and he's putty in your hand. Ready for just about anything. Willing to get on his knees and messily suck off your strap until you're satisfied, always eager to open his legs for you. 

When he gets out of that boot, it only gets worse. As soon as you get home, you bend him over the kitchen island until he's sobbing. On a slow day at work, you grab a bag and make it a point to fuck him out in the field, and you're sure to make him keep those old leather chaps on. The only time he complains is when he has to walk home on shaky legs.

You've thought about this for months, but now, you've not only got what you wanted, but you've also got an entire folder's worth of new material in your phone too.

You know. Just in case.

[sprhinklesome]

What’s one headcanon that you think other shippers wouldn’t agree/sharing similar interest with you?

That Link is the protective one 😌

[lewmagoo]

diamond cowboy | rhett abbott

description: in which a good ride comes with an even greater reward

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, semi public sex, unprotected piv sex, light choking, begging, overstimulation, creampie, dom/sub undertones

There was nothing like watching your man standing in the middle of the ring, breathless and sweaty, pride glowing on his face as thunderous cheering erupted around him. 

He wasn’t one that craved attention on a regular basis. He preferred a quiet “good job” over dramatic praise. But after a good ride, that kind of over-the-top praise made his heart soar. He was on top of the world, king of the rodeo. The best fuckin’ bull rider there was. 

But there was only one person in the crowd whose approval he searched for. Wild blue eyes flickered to the stands, scanning, hoping, and finally, he saw you. Jumping up and down in the stands, shouting his name, cheering for him. 

His chest flooded with warmth. His face broke into a smile. He thumped his fist against his chest, right over his heart, and you placed your own hand over yours. You were so proud of him. He could see it written all over your face. 

And that alone made it all worth it. The broken bones. The dislocated shoulders. The concussions. The blood, sweat, and tears that had gotten him to this point. As long as you were there, his biggest cheerleader, all was right with the world. 

As he looked into your eyes, the deafening noise of the crowd seemed to fade into the background. “I love you,” you mouthed. 

He grinned. “I know,” he mouthed back. 

It was a good ride. His best ride. The ride that would advance his career and change the trajectory of your lives for the better. 

It was amazing, how far he’d come. After he had left his family’s house and started his life with you, things had changed. He’d come into his own. He was no longer living in the shadows of his father and brother. He felt freer than he’d ever felt before. 

It was only natural that he rode better, too. He had more energy to put into his craft, and it showed. He’d quickly climbed to the top of the rodeo circuit and was now entering into a fruitful riding career. 

You were so unbelievably proud of him. Though watching him ride was often stressful, and seeing him sustain countless injuries made your heart ache, you wanted him to chase his dream. You’d never dream of trying to hold him back from it. 

And it was worth it to see the joy on his beautiful face. He was glowing from the inside out. A diamond cowboy. 

You knew he’d seek you out after he cleared the arena. You made your way down from the stands as quickly as you could, dodging friends who threw congratulations your way, praising your man’s victory. You shouted thanks over your shoulder, breezing through the crowd until you found yourself back behind the stands. 

You kept moving, scurrying to the area marked riders only. You waited at the gate for a beat, knowing Rhett would emerge soon, and you wanted to be the first person he saw when he did. 

You were vibrating with excited energy, bouncing on the balls of your feet, eager to catch a glimpse of him coming toward you. And then, finally, he emerged. Had in hand, as it had flown off during his ride, and he hadn’t bothered to put it back on. His hair was tousled, and he wore a big grin on his face. 

As soon as he saw you, that smile went impossibly wider. He broke into a jog, reaching out to unlatch the gate, slipping through the opening with ease. 

“We did it, baby!” He exclaimed, and you laughed musically as he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. 

“No, you did it!” Came your breathless response, after he set you back down. Your hands came up to hold his face, and you beamed up at him, your eyes shining. 

He kissed you deeply. “Naw, there’s no me without you. I did it because I knew you were up there watchin’ me, cheerin' me on. We did it.”

You hummed, smiling against his mouth. “Alright then, I won’t argue with you, cowboy.” You let your hands rest against his broad chest, where you could feel his heart thudding like racing hoofbeats upon the ground. 

His large, calloused hands gripped your hips, pulling you against him, his body warm and thrumming with adrenaline still. He kissed you again, his lips searing against yours, hot and needy. 

He was always like this after a good ride. A live wire, sizzling and crackling with white-hot energy. You could see it in the way his eyes shimmered in the yellow light cast by the lights above you. 

And you could feel it when he pressed his hips into you, a telltale hardness in his jeans that had your mouth running dry. The glimmer in his eyes darkened into something else. 

It came as no surprise to you, because it wasn’t the first time it had happened. But it still pulled a surprised squeak from you, especially when he pushed you back against the fence, his weight leaning into you. 

“R-Rhett!” You peeped, “here?!”

But you already knew the answer. 

“Need you now, darlin’. All I could think about after I jumped off that fuckin’ bull was how badly I wanted to sink into this little pussy of yours and celebrate my victory.”

“But what if someone sees?” Your resolve was melting as he pressed hot kisses down your jaw.

“They ain’t gonna see,” he replied, “an’ if they do, then we’ll give ‘em a good show. I need my girl now. Can’t wait ‘til we get home.”

And how could you ever deny him? Especially when his teeth were nipping at your skin, and he’d managed to slide his thigh between your legs, already applying pressure where you needed him most, your panties the only thing separating your skin from touching the denim. You were grateful you’d decided to wear a dress. 

Rhett leaned back, hand catching your arm. “C’mere.” Quickly, he pulled you after him, guiding you further from the gates. You soon found yourself between a set of trailers, shrouded in shadow, but only a few steps away from the main path, where anyone could happen upon you. 

That didn’t matter, though. Not when his day old stubble was prickling at your sensitive skin as he kissed and licked down your neck, tasting you, savoring you. He breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you. The perfume he liked, mixed with your natural scent. It drove him wild. 

You were pressed against the outside of the trailer, it’s cold metal sending a chill through the fabric of your dress. But you’d warm up soon enough. 

Besides, you hardly had time to register the coldness when you felt Rhett against you again, hard cock trapped within the confines of his Wranglers, grinding against your lower abdomen. 

He was so strong, teeming with virile energy, keyed up from the high of his ride. You felt your knees growing weak, knowing he could toss you around like a ragdoll and do whatever he pleased with you. It was a strength that came from holding onto thousand pound bulls, hauling bales of hay, and wrangling stray cattle. 

You slid your hands along his defined arms, the muscle flexing beneath the fabric of his cotton shirt. Blue, like his eyes. You could hardly take the time to marvel at it, because his lips were on yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth. He tasted of the beer he’d downed before his ride. 

Beyond you, you could hear voices, and the knowledge that anyone could walk past and see what you were doing sent a shiver down your spine, and warmth blooming between your thighs. 

But again, you were distracted by the man before you, pawing at you, kissing at your skin, nipping at the flesh. Your head was beginning to feel like it was filled with static, your brain short-circuiting with each hot kiss and drag of his fingers. 

And then, suddenly, he pulled back. “Hold on,” he mumbled, moving to reach into the breast pocket of his shirt. He slipped a small packet of wet wipes out of the pocket, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him quickly wipe his hands. 

“You came prepared, huh?” You teased. 

His eyes twinkled. “Sure did. I was anticipatin’ a win, figured I’d keep wipes on hand for afterward.”

“You’re a sly dog, Mr. Abbott.”

He smirked as he tucked the packet of wipes back into his pocket. “What can I say? Always gotta be ready to touch m’ girl. Ain’t about to get your delicate lil pussy all dirty with my filthy fingers now.” 

You appreciated him for it. He tried hard to consider things like this. Making sure he was looking out for you, even in the little things, was important to him. 

Your mind went blank, however, when he slid his warm hand down the front of your body, pushing past the fabric of your panties until his fingers struck gold. Already slick for him, your cunt accepted his fingers with ease. He circled your sensitive clit for a moment before he traveled lower, prodding at your entrance. 

Two thick fingers slipped inside you. You whimpered, your knees almost buckling. He held you upright, his arm secured around your waist as he curled those digits within you. You kissed him feverishly, whining against his mouth, fire burning within you, licking at your skin, threatening to consume you whole already. 

You couldn’t help but push your hips into his touch, humping his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. He sped up his movements, just so he could hear the sound of your wetness emanate from between your thighs. 

“You dirty lil thang,” he drawled, eyes narrowing, much like a cat’s. “You fuckin’ love this.”

“Uh-huh,” you sighed in agreement as you pressed your lips to his jaw, sucking on the stubbled skin. 

He moved his fingers faster, deeper, thumb coming up to encircle your now swollen clit. It was almost pathetic, how much of an effect he had on you. He’d barely gotten started and you were already losing yourself, your brain turning to mush at his touch. 

He knew exactly how to angle his fingers to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. And then, all at once, he added a third finger into the mix, and your cunt stretched to accommodate it. 

“Oh!” You gasped. 

“Gotta get you ready f’r me, honey,” came his words, breathed hotly into your mouth. 

“I am ready,” you wanted to say, but you were entirely speechless as he moved his fingers hard and fast, enough to jar your entire being. You were so wet, it was beginning to drip down his fingers and coat his palm. 

He kept going, even as he lifted his other hand to unbuckle his belt. You might’ve marveled at the fact that he’d done it one-handed, if you weren’t so distracted by the way he filled you with his fingers. 

Your head lolled back against the cool wall of the trailer, your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched your jaw, body shaking uncontrollably. Faster and faster he went, determined to make you fall apart before he even got his cock in you. 

He shoved the fabric of his jeans aside, his boxers following, just enough to free his achingly hard cock. You could feel it against your hip, and it drew you back to the present as you gasped and reached for it. “Want it in me,” you pleaded, but he shook his head. 

“Not yet. Wan’ you to squirt all over m’ fingers first.”

Whining, you sought out his lips again, and he kissed you languidly as he expertly brought you to that peak. You could feel it building like a storm cloud, threatening to open and bring forth a torrential downpour. 

Your mouths were open against each other. You moaned into his, and he grunted into yours, so desperate to make you come, so eager to bring you pleasure. 

And then, the tension released, and you squealed, legs buckling beneath you as you flooded his hand and your panties with the warmth of your release. Rhett growled, his eyes fluttering as he watched you come apart, trembling as he caught you with his free arm. 

“That’s it, there ya go. Let it all out for me. C’mon, I know you got more in there. Give it to me,” he rasped as he continued to move his fingers. 

You were making such a mess. You could feel it beginning to drip down your legs, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Finally, Rhett gave you some reprieve, sliding his hand away. 

You watched through hazy eyes as he sucked his fingers clean and murmured “fuckin’ delicious.”

He used the wetness on his palm as lubricant as he wrapped his hand firmly around his cock and gave it a few deliberate strokes. You couldn’t help but salivate over the sight. Even in the dim light, you could see how hard and swollen it was, blushing tip shimmering with molten arousal. You wanted it in your mouth. But there’d be time for that later. For now, both of you were desperate for him to be inside you. 

“Turn,” he commanded, strong hands grasping your hips and turning you so that your back was facing him. He placed his palm against your back and gently urged you to lean forward. You placed your hands against the wall of the trailer as he shoved your dress up again and yanked your panties down your legs, just far enough for him to have access. 

Then you felt him, sliding through your puffy folds. Hard and thick and thrumming with need. “You want it?” He gruffed. 

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding eagerly. 

“Really? Cause you don’t sound like you do.”

“Please, Rhett. I want it. I need it.”

He gave your ass a hearty smack, at which you jolted, gasping sharply. “Fuckin’ beg for it.”

He kept sliding the tip past your entrance, teasing you, never granting you what you desired so badly. “Pl-please, sir. I want your cock so bad, it hurts. I need you inside me, I need you to pump me full, please, please, ple—ah!”

Your final plea was cut short as he shunted his hips forward, filling you all at once. Your eyes watered at the stretch. Your toes curled. Your spine tingled. It punched the oxygen right out of your lungs. 

“There ya go. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He pulled his hips back before thrusting forward again, and you couldn’t contain the yelp that left you. 

Suddenly, his hand was clamped over your mouth. “Better keep quiet. Don’t want everyone t’ know what a slut you are, lettin’ your cowboy fuck you where anyone could see.” And then, “or, maybe you want that, huh?” Another deep thrust. “Want ‘em all to see how dumb y’ get when my cock is inside ya.”

If only they knew. 

In reality, you were well aware that Rhett would never let anyone see you like this. You both got off on the thrill of it, but he’d never purposely put you in a situation where someone would see you like this. It was why you were pushed into the shadows against the trailer, in a secluded part of the rodeo grounds, and his body was shielding yours. No one could see you over the broad frame of his shoulders. 

He’d protect you always, even in moments like this. Especially in moments like this. Your most vulnerable state. Strung out on desire, brain fuzzy with need, your inhibitions gone. This sight was for his eyes, and his eyes only. And you trusted him to watch over you when you were like this. 

And what a state you were in. Mouth open, eyes shut, shivering under his touch as he held your hips tightly and repeatedly drove his cock into your velvety depths. One of his hands came around the front of your body, disappearing to the place where your bodies met. There, his deft fingers began tracing expert figure eights on your clit, and you threw your head back against his shoulder. 

His free arm supported your weight, muscles bulging as he held you tight, making sure you didn’t fall. His grunts were low against the shell of your ear, animalistic in tone. Feral, in a way. 

Under his breath, you could just barely make out the words “take it, take it, take it.”

And you did. Every inch of him. You’d be sore later, you knew you would be. But you didn’t care. Not when he kept hitting it just right, filling you with such ease and precision. His fingers at your little gathering of nerves had your vision sparkling with electricity, fizzling within the darkness of your eyelids. 

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so it came as no surprise to you that your body was already beginning to climb that peak again. This time it came from deeper within, a flame that had once been dormant, now burning intensely, spreading throughout your entire body. 

The hand that was over your mouth lowered to your throat, and he fucked you even harder as he began to squeeze, fingers pressing into the sides of your neck. He wasn’t cutting off your airflow. No, he was slowing the blood flow, which left you feeling euphoric and lightheaded, as if you were outside of your body, watching him fuck you. 

At that point, you were speechless. Couldn’t utter a coherent word if you tried. All that came past your parted, kiss-bitten lips were squeaks and moans, whimpers and gasps. There were no words to adequately describe the pleasure you were feeling. 

With each push and pull of his cock inside you, you could feel his heavy balls tap against your slick cunt. The sound was lewd and filthy. This entire encounter was filthy. Your panties pushed halfway down your thighs, his jeans haphazardly bunched below his ass. It was a dirty, hurried fuck, and you both loved it. 

With his fingers on your clit and his hand on your throat, you were plummeting toward your end, and he could tell. “That pussy’s squeezin’ me,” he gritted out, “you’re close, aren’t you?”

“Y-y-ye…s,” was all you could muster, as your eyes rolled back. 

He slowed down only slightly, rolling his hips against yours, cock nestled deep. His fingers pressed more insistently against your swollen bundle, and your legs began to tremble. 

He lowered the hand that was around your throat, instead bringing it down to grope at your bouncing breasts, fingers tugging at each nipple. It only added to the shock of bliss already running through you. 

“C’mon, darlin’. Want y’ to come all over me. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

It was right there, just out of your reach, so close you could almost taste it. Warmth blossoming from your head to your toes, intense and all-consuming. Almost there, almost there, almost there. 

“I said, come,” came the deep, commanding growl in your ear. 

And you did. With a strangled cry, you fell apart again, body going rigid in Rhett’s arms as it washed over you. He held you close, grunting as your cunt pulsed around him. The feeling nearly sent him over the edge, but he refused to succumb to it just yet. He was determined to pull one more orgasm out of you before he came. 

He gave you a moment of reprieve, letting you come down slowly from the glorious intensity, your body jolting with the aftershocks. You pressed your hot cheek against the cold exterior of the trailer, in an effort to cool down. You felt as if you’d burst into flames. 

As the haze cleared from your mind, you became aware that Rhett had slowed down, cock nestled deep inside you, in an effort to stave off his end. The evidence of your orgasm had dripped down his shaft, toward his full balls, and it was driving him wild. The fact that he had this affect on you, that he could make you come repeatedly, did wonders for his ego. 

You looked back in fondness at the time you’d first gotten together, and took time to explore one another. Rhett had a reputation. People thought of him as a man whoring cowboy. But in reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

He’d only been with one other person before you. She was his first everything. First girlfriend, first kiss, first introduction to sex. She was all he’d ever known. He had no idea how wonderfully fulfilling that sex could be, because she, being a little older and more experienced than him, had never taught him. 

It wasn’t until he began a relationship with you that he learned how sweet that connection was. How pleasurable it could be. He was free to explore his fantasies, and learn how vitally important aftercare was. 

Aftercare. Something he hadn’t experienced before. You had shown him how you needed to be cared for after sex, and in turn, you had administered care to him, as well. Your dynamic would switch, at times. Sometimes he was the dominant one. Sometimes you were. But no matter who bore what title, aftercare was non-negotiable for both parties. 

You found that Rhett especially needed gentle reassurance after a particularly intense scene. He doubted himself sometimes, as a dominant. What if he was being too rough with you? What if he hurt you? 

But you were always there to assure him that you trusted him implicitly, that you knew he’d never push you too far. 

It had taken a while to build his confidence, but he’d come a long way since then, and now, the two of you had a healthy dynamic. It was why you both felt comfortable sneaking around like this in public. 

“Y’ still with me, chickadee?” His breathless voice brought you back to the present. 

“Y-yeah,” you managed. 

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Think ya can give me another one?” 

You let out an unsteady sigh, leaning your head back against him. “I think so.”

Another kiss to your shoulder, his stubble nipping at your skin. “Okay, just need y’to hold on a little longer. ‘m almost there.”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt him begin to move again. Slowly at first, building his rhythm. 

You were so sensitive, and impossibly wet, so much so that as he moved, the obscene squelch of your slick could be heard. 

His fingers found their way to your throbbing clit again, and you jolted, entirely too sensitive. “Oh!”

His forearm wrapped around your middle, and he held you in place as he began to quicken his pace. Deep, hurried, sharp thrusts that stole the breath from you. You clawed at the side of the trailer, trying and failing to find purchase, in an attempt to hold on. 

Rhett was so big and broad against you, his weight grounding you. In the moment, he was using you for his pleasure, even as his fingers continued to rub at you. He grunted and growled in your ear, rutting deep within you. 

“Gon’ come,” he grunted, as your head lolled back against him and your mouth fell open. “Gon’ fill your cute lil pussy up, make you walk around with me runnin’ down your legs.”

“Pl-please!” You squeaked. You wanted it so badly. Walking around with his cum seeping out of you made you feel claimed. Like you belonged to him. 

“Yeah?” He was growing breathless, fucked out, “that what you want? For me t’ stuff you full of me?”

But you could barely answer because he was hitting your spot just right, and you knew you were going to fall apart again. All you could do was tremble pathetically in his arms. 

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you closed your lips around then, mouthing at the digits, using them to muffle your too-loud cries. Rhett’s moans in your ear made your head spin. Low at first, but growing in pitch until they were almost whimpers. 

His mouth was open against your ear, breath hot and heavy. But you were distracted by the swell of his cock within you. Before you even realized what was happening, your third and final orgasm washed over you. It felt like your veins were filled with fizzy champagne. Deliciously warm, almost comforting, as it surged through you. 

You whined deep within your chest, going limp in his arms as you reveled in ecstasy. A sleepy smile graced your features as you heard him gasp sharply, and seconds later, you could feel it. Warmth blossoming within you, seeping out around the edges, painting everything milky white. 

“Tha-thank yo…uuuu,” you babbled, eyes rolling back as he gave you everything he had to give. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he sighed, as you went limp in his arms. His own thighs were quaking, muscles fatigued from his ride, and from fucking you, but he remained steady as he caught your exhausted form. 

Slowly, he eased his softening cock out of you, and you hissed softly at the feeling, knowing you were going to be sore later. But he was there to soothe you, loving fingers cupping your soaked pussy, applying gentle pressure. 

“Here,” he hummed, pulling back to turn you gently. He hitched your leg over his hip as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of wipes he’d used earlier. He was careful to wipe you clean as best as he could, in the dark lighting, and the awkward angle. 

“I’ll finish cleanin’ you up at home, alright baby?” He promised. Sleepily, you nodded. With a soft smile, he kissed your nose. “Did so good f’r me.”

You giggled, almost loopy. “Love you,” you slurred. 

He reached up to lovingly stroke your cheek. “Love you too, sweet thing.”

He helped get you looking presentable again, pulling your dress back to where it belonged, wiping the tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed from your cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get home.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and buckled his belt before he bent and grabbed his hat, which you hadn’t even realized had fallen to the dusty earth. Then, a brawny arm was secured around your waist as he guided you out of the shadows. He checked to make sure the coast was clear, and after he was certain it was safe, the two of you made your way across the lot, to the place where his truck was parked. 

Your legs were unsteady the entire way, so he had to hold you upright. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourselves. You felt like a couple of teenagers, sneaking around. In a way, it was exhilarating. 

“You’re walkin’ like a baby deer,” Rhett teased as he led you to the passenger side of his truck. 

“That’s your fault, sir,” you teased right back, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Acting like a sex-starved maniac.”

He grinned before he tipped his hat up and leaned down to kiss you. “Can’t help it. Get so pent up after a good ride. S’the worst when I’m outta town and you ain’t with me. Feel like I’m gon’ combust.”

“Good thing I was with you tonight then, huh?” You said with a good-natured smile. 

He tapped your nose playfully. “Get in the truck, chickadee.”

With a mock salute, you climbed inside, and once you were settled, he shut the door behind you and came around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. 

You snuggled against his side the entire ride home, feeling rather sleepy after the events of the night. In fact, you managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the drive, waking only when he came to a stop in your driveway. 

“C’mon now, sleepy girl. Let’s getcha inside so I can clean you up proper.”

He coaxed you out of the truck, and you held his hand as he led you up the porch steps and into the house. You let him take the reins, because you were much too drowsy to be of much help. He took you upstairs, and there, you climbed into the shower together. 

The water made you somewhat more alert, and as he began to rinse you down, you stayed his hands. “Wanna take care of you too,” you said. 

So, you took the time to tenderly scrub him down as well, wanting to show him love. You spent a long while tending to each other, relishing in the closeness, the intimacy. Both of you enjoyed aftercare immensely, even more than the sex act itself at times. It was a way to show reverence and appreciation to the other. 

“You’re so good t’ me, baby,” Rhett lulled, and you hummed at his praise, kissing at his chest. 

“You deserve it,” came your reply. 

He hugged you close before he finally shut off the water. He leaned out of the shower to open the towel warmer you kept nearby. A device that he’d scoffed at in the beginning, claiming it was a ridiculous and frivolous waste of money. But he had to admit, he loved the thing. There was nothing better than getting out of the shower and wrapping up in a nice, warm towel. 

He wrapped you in yours before he grabbed his own. Together, you set about completing your evening routine. Rhett helped massage lotion into your skin, and you did the same to him. 

A little while later, all cozy in clean pajamas, you found yourselves sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, close enough that your knees were touching. A pint of chocolate ice cream sat between you both. 

“How does it feel to be king of the rodeo?” You asked with a smile. 

He shook his head. “You’re speakin’ too highly of me.”

“It’s true. You’re making a name for yourself, Rhett. Nobody even refers to you as ‘Royal Abbott’s son’ anymore. They see you. Rhett Abbott, Pro Bull Rider.”

Rhett’s eyes glimmered as he sucked a scoop of ice cream from his spoon. “It feels damn good. But like I said earlier, there’s no me without you. I’m where I am because you pushed me to be better. You showed me life was worth livin’. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

You tried to protest, but he shook his head. “You’re my saving grace, darlin’. Always have been, always will be.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. Leaning forward, you stole a sweet kiss, too verklempt to utter a verbal reply. You loved that he could go from rough and tumble to tender and loving just like that. As if he hadn’t just taken you within an inch of your life at the very public rodeo grounds. 

He was back to being your soft, gentle cowboy whose heart was often too big to fit in his own chest. But what he couldn’t fit within his rib cage, you held delicately in your hands, promising never to break it. 

“I love you,” you spoke for what felt like the hundredth time that night. But you’d say it a hundred more without thinking twice about it. 

“I love you more, chickadee.”

“I love you most.”

-

taglist:

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @peachystenbrough @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @hangmanapologist @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @nobody7102 @milesmillergf @idontcare-11 @yanna-banana @floydsglasses @whisperofsong @floydsmuse @happyrebelruins @seitmai-too @just-in-case-iloveyou

[sebsxphia]

gentle, rough and loving.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: rhett abbott’s aftercare is the final piece to the puzzle you need.

￫ word count: 2.5K.

￫ music: listen to the incredible and beautiful playlist made by @laracrofted for this fic here! 💽

￫ c/w: endings of smut, endings of BDSM/rough sex, mentions of BDSM, rope, derogatory language used towards reader, one mention of no previous aftercare in previous relationships, sub space, soothing injuries, kissing, swearing, rhett giving you proper aftercare, rhett being an absolute sweetheart and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: i’m dedicating this piece to the wonderfully talented @lewmagoo. their writing is absolutely phenomenal, and what always gets me most, is the beautiful aftercare that they write. therefore, this piece was born! please kindly check out their writing, i cannot recommend it enough! <3 i hope you enjoy! <3 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Gentle, rough and loving are the three words you would use to describe what it felt like to make love to Rhett Abbott. He had your face pushed down with one hand, onto the hard and cold floorboards of your living room floor. His other hand was gripping at your hip so hard, you knew his fingertips would leave bruises. Yet, the hand that was pressed on your face had his fingers curling round to the rise of your cheek, so the wooden floorboards wouldn’t hurt too much. The hand on your hip worked to steady your wrecked frame, so you would never fall forward and hurt your neck.

He had secured your wrists tightly together with some rope. The rope itself wasn’t some tattered and fraying rope that he had found in his barn, no. Rhett had insisted that he purchased proper bondage rope. Your safety was of the upmost importance to him, regardless that he was treating you like a common whore in this very moment. He used his extensive, and ever growing knowledge of cowboy knots, to tie your wrists together and let them rest on the arch of your back. It was the perfect centre of gravity so that you wouldn’t topple over when his thrusts became particularly rough.

At the beginning of your relationship, before any rougher type of sex had occurred, you explained to Rhett your prior experience of aftercare with previous partners was, minimal, to say the least. It was during the quiet confines of your shared bed during one moonlit night. You remember the look on his face, shadowed gently by the moonlight filtering in through your lacy curtains. His face contorted into hard lines above his eyebrows, yet his eyes still wore a soft and loving gaze for you. He was both angry beyond belief that no one would take care of you like that, and deeply consoling to your fears and hurt.

“I promise you, I’ll never let that happen to you, m’love. You’re safe with me. I hope y’ can come to trust me, in time.”

He understood that he had to earn that trust from you in time, and he made a promise to himself that gentle night that he would.

A year later and Rhett had kept his promise.

After the scene was over and he came down from his own ecstasy inducing high, the word loving, was about to replace the word rough. He could still hear your faint whimpers that escaped your mouth in time with your body twitching from your heightened sensitivity. With heightened caution, he slowly slipped his fingers out from under your cheek to allow for your face to gently meet the floorboards. His other hand still had a hold on your hips to steady you, but his moved his fingertips an inch upwards so he wouldn’t press down on the particularly sore points. His hand from your face traveled over the base of your skull, along your spine in your neck and dipped in between your shoulder blades. This was when you first registered his voice.

“Darlin’, can y’ feel that? Feel my hand on your neck?” You let out a small grunt in response. You had intended it to be a hum in agreement, but with lack of water it distorted your voice. He understood your tone none the less and made a mental note to get you water as soon as he was able. He continued to trace your spine with his hand until he reached your tied wrists. He was allowing you to feel his gentle touch, to remind you that his far rougher touch was finished now. His fingertips reached your bound wrists and you heard him speak again.

“I’m goin’ un-tie your wrists now, darlin’. I won’t let y’ go, I promise.” He worked his set of fingers nimbly to un-tie the knots. He only ever used knots that were quick and easy to un-tie, especially with one hand. As you felt the rope be pulled out from underneath your wrists like a table cloth off a table, your wrists went limp and they slid down your hips. Rhett was quick to grasp onto them to allow your centre of gravity to stay. You huffed out a groan that he could only register as, exhaustion.

He made another mental note. “Your poor back and wrists, they must be so sore. Cream, after water.”

“Shh, m’love. I know, I know. I’m goin’ turn you over now, okay?” The hand on your hip guided you down to the floor and then slid round to your belly, to turn you around to face him. The gentle hold on your wrists let go momentarily before he gathered them back in his hand to rest on your stomach. He had you turned over and now sat in his lap, as he sat on the floor. He had one hand resting in between your shoulder blades, allowing him to hold you up right and see your face. Your cheeks were flushed a rosy red, with tear stains tracking down your flesh. Your eyes were drooping and completely glazed over, and you wore a cock drunk, lopsided smile.

He was proud that he could fuck you so good that you would end up as a wreck like this, but that was done now. It was now his responsibility to be gentle and loving with you, and take care of you.

“Can you tell me your name?” Rhett avoided using any pet names that would be used during a scene like that, as to not push you into subspace any further.

“Bambi?” You croaked out with your eyebrows furrowing slightly. His lips quirked up in the corner of his mouth, but he kept it hidden from you.

“That’s not your name right now. Can y’ tell me your name?”

Your brow furrowed deeper and you inhaled a shaky breath. Your glazed over eyes scanned his face and he felt a wave of relief when he saw your eyes crinkle in the corners ever so slightly. It was a tell tale sign that you were coming back around and you remembered Rhett as your lover and someone who was safe, to you. You called out your own name and he placed a softening kiss to your forehead with praise.

“Atta’ girl.” He beamed in delight. “That’s your name ‘nd I’m here to take care of y’ now, okay, darlin’?” You nodded in response and removed your hands from his to grab onto the collar of his plaid shirt. You buried your face into his neck, letting your cheeks scratch over his stubble and your nose inhale his familiar scent, grounding you further.

“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett…” You mumbled incoherently into his flesh.

He smiled to himself and moved his hand to cradle your head. “That’s right, sweetheart. It’s me, you’re safe now. I’m gon’ take y’ upstairs ‘nd get y’ cleaned up, okay?”

You nodded against his shoulder and let him scoop you up under your thighs, allowing himself to get off his knees and cradled you next to his torso. He carried you up the stairs to your shared bedroom, letting you down softly onto the mattress below. He shed his own plaid shirt and instructed you to sit up briefly. He guided your arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around your bare chest, noticing you were shivering slightly. You held tightly onto his biceps as he pulled away from you. There was a look in your eyes, a pleading desperation for Rhett not to leave you. He recognized it instantly and reassured you within a second.

“I jus’ need to get y’ some water and ointment first, m’love. I’m gon’ be ten seconds.” He pressed another praising kiss to your forehead. Your glazed over eyes looked almost tearful and it caused his stomach to drop through the floor. It teared at his heartstrings, knowing that you entrusted him so deeply like this.

You watched as he left your bedroom, with the glass from your nightstand in his hand. You kept your eyes intently focused on the doorway and awaited for his return from the bathroom. You heard the faucet running and the pipes shaking throughout the rest of your home. When he returned, you held out your hand, as to beckon him for his reassuring presence. He squatted down by the bedside and handed you the glass. He reached up to brush the hair out of your eyes, looking up at you with a prideful smile when you gulped down the soothing liquid within seconds.

“I’ll get y’ another glass in a bit. Can I have your wrists first, please?”

Rhett was well aware of the fuzzy headspace that you could be in. Regardless of the stage, he understood that you may be unable to communicate back to him. Therefore, asking for your permission, or telling you what he was doing was always first on his mind.

You held out your wrists and let him take them delicately into his own hands. His calloused fingertips had always been rough, since the day you met him, but somehow, when they were drawing over your skin it seemed as though it was a featherlight and tender touch. You adored how your rough and tough cowboy, could be so gentle and loving.

He moved the ointment over your wrists and asked you to sit up next so he could soothe your aching back. He could feel your eyes fixated on him the whole time. You were tracing and following his every move. But he knew it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, it was because you were finally receiving the proper aftercare that you deserved and you wanted to burn it into your memory forever. He could feel how your body was keening into his loving touch, with every simple swipe and stroke of the cooling ointment. When his fingertips ran over your wrist, he could sense your pulse coming back to a resting rate, which pleased him greatly.

When the pain points that he was aware of were covered, he moved onto your needs that you perhaps hadn’t yet communicated to him.

“Darlin’, can y’ tell, or point, to any other parts that hurt, please?” You out stretched your finger to point at your knees and he let out a quiet chuckle to himself. “Of course. I’m not surprised, y’ took me s’ well, sweetheart.”

He moved up and onto the bed, and caught your gaze in the process. Your eyes had lit up and sparkled brightly at his sweet praise. Your mouth was parted with an anticipated smile.

“I— I did?”

Your fingers twiddled with one another in your lap. He recognized how your body language shifted and the look you wore on your face. You were asking for praise and reassurance, something that you had never had prior.

“Oh, m’love,” he scooted up to where you sat against the headboard. He knelt next to you and took your face in his hands again. “You did incredible for me. I’m s’ proud of you. You’re such a good bunny for me.” He leaned down to gingerly press a kiss to your cheek but your lips met his instead. You hovered mere millimeters away from his lips and you swore you could’ve felt a zap! of electricity connect you both. You felt his warm breath fan over your lips and you gazed up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed thickly and his voice got caught in his throat. “Can I kiss you, darlin’?”

“Please, Rhett.” You breathlessly pleaded. He leaned in to meet your lips and your body almost went limp against his. The first loving kiss that came after a particularly rough fucking, was always the final piece to the puzzle. Like clockwork, you came back around and you were now fully understanding of your surroundings and who you were with. You were with your Rhett, who was gentle, rough and loving.

He pulled away, with you both letting out a small gasp at the sudden contact of air. He held your gaze for a couple of moments longer. He loved the way how you keened into his touch, how you were moving your face to press your cheeks harder against his large hands.

“Let me finish taking care of your knees, ‘nd then I’ll cuddle up close to you, okay?” You nodded in his hold and let him slip away, back down to your legs.

Moments later your body was smoothed out with the ointment, you had another glass of water down you and you had been moved back into Rhett’s arms. He’d pulled out your old laptop from underneath your bed to watch something easy, alongside some emergencies snacks for occasions such as these.

He had taken his plaid shirt off you at your request. You wanted to feel the ever comforting feeling of skin on skin contact. He was sat back against the headboard with you in between his legs. His broad and toned thighs were locking around you and keeping you protected. His hands ran up and down your arms in soothing strokes, and sketched out mindless shapes on your flesh. He occasionally dipped into the snack you had in your hand to feed you one or feed himself, which always earned a giggle from you.

“Do y’ want a bath after this, darlin’? I’ll give y’ a proper massage too, the lavender oil and everythin’.”

Your head rolled back into the crook of his neck and onto his shoulder. You let out a satisfied hum and looked upwards towards Rhett. Your hands moved to cradle the back of his skull and toy with the lick of hairs at the base of his neck. He craned his face down to catch your satisfied, yet still drooping gaze.

“Please, lover.” You paused for a second and sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. “You’re s’ gentle, rough and loving to me.”

If your hand was on his chest right now, you’d be able to feel his heart beating in double time. So fast, it could burst right through his chest. Your trust was solidified in Rhett and it made his heart feel as though there was a bed of wildflowers blooming inside of him.

“Anythin’ for you, m’love. I’ll always take care of you.”

“I’ll always take care of you too, cowboy.”

Your own statement was as true as his. After a particularly rough ride and having his knees scraped and his shoulder pushed out of his socket, you would be there. Your hands would roughly grip at his chest and shoulder to pop the bone back in its place, but your hands would turn gentle as you pressed the cotton pad to his bloodied knees. You would lovingly run your hands through his hair as he lay with his cheek pressed on your bare chest, when the exhaustion would wrack his body entirely.

You loved and cared so deeply for each other, that you both knew no one would, or could, ever match that.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97

tagging who maybe be interested: @sunblchdfly @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloyds @peachystenbrough @sugarcoated-lame @sushiwriterhere

[rinkyrinkyrinky]

I love how they're enjoying this so much 😭