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fanfictionalraven · 3 months

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Unforgettable

Title: Unforgettable

Song Inspiration: Unforgettable by Thomas Rhett

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,822

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published January, 2018. Flashbacks in italics.

You knew it was stupid to be mad. You weren’t exactly in a “normal” relationship. Dean wasn’t the roses, chocolates, or candle-lit dinners type. And, to be fair, you’d never really considered yourself the type to want those things either. You knew it was stupid to be mad. But, dammit, you couldn’t help it.

One year ago today, you and Dean had met and the chemistry was instantaneous. It had been a great night, the best night of your life honestly. The next day, he brought you back to the bunker and you’d never left. You’d never really defined the relationship, it was a sort of unspoken but obvious dedication.

So maybe it was a little unfair to expect any form of “anniversary” celebration or gifts. But was some form of acknowledgment too much to ask of whatever it was you had? Probably.

You groan and lay your head on the library table. Sam, sitting directly across from you with a lore book, was oblivious to your internal argument. He looks up now.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head, not moving it from the table. “What’s up?” You can hear the laughter in his voice.

“What are we?” You ask. There’s a moments silence before Sam speaks again.

“Well – we’re hunters,” he says. You sit up and narrow your eyes at him. “What?” He asks, laughing again.

“Me and Dean. What are we?” You ask again. His laughter stops and confusion spreads across his face. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we friends with benefits?”

“Pretty sure you should be having this conversation with Dean,” he tells you, looking back at his book. You groan and lay your head down again. “Why is this suddenly bothering you?”

“Because I can’t decide if I have the right to be mad that he doesn’t remember we met a year ago today,” you admit. Sam starts to laugh again and you sit up quickly.

“He forgot your anniversary, huh?” He asks. You shush him quickly, looking over your shoulder. Dean had been in the garage most of the morning working on his car but he could come back at any moment. “Look, Y/N, I’ve never seen Dean like this with anyone. Ever. You mean more to him than I’m sure he’s said. But he isn’t used to the whole relationship thing. I’m sure he’ll come around though.”

“Hey, Sweetheart. Can you come down here?” You hear Dean call from the hall. You sigh as you stand and start down the corridor. Of course, you had been overreacting. You knew how much Dean cared for you, even if he never said it. And you didn’t need a day set aside for him to prove it more.

You stop short at the entrance to the garage and smile. Dean is leaning back against the hood of the Impala, his hands shoved down in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing your favorite of his flannel shirts, the one that makes his eyes pop a little more. It was the same one he’d been wearing the night you met.

You’d rolled into Lebanon, Kansas earlier that day, having found a case. It was an easy one. Open and shut. A vengeful spirit terrorizing a local family. You’d already worked out who it was and were just waiting for the cover of night to go salt and burn the body.

While you were waiting, you’d decided to hit a local bar. The one you picked looked like just the perfect mix of seedy and respectable. You’d been sitting at the bar for over an hour now, nursing your second bottle of beer, when someone slides onto the stool next to you. A blue and green checkered flannel hugs the muscles of the man’s forearms in all the right ways as he flags the barkeep for a beer. You shake your head quickly, having to remind yourself why you’re here in the first place.

You allow yourself one glance at him and immediately regret it. He’s looking back at you with piercing green eyes, already mentally undressing you. You look forward quickly and take a long drink of your beer before turning to face him. He angles his body towards you as well, smiling in the most irresistible way.

“Look,” you start, avoiding his eyes. “I’m only here for work. I’m really not looking for a drunken one night stand.” They weren’t the words you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him where you were staying for the night but you knew you had to stay focused on the job and if he went back to your motel room you’d never want to leave again. The man laughs and you look up at him now.

“Okay number one, I’m completely sober,” he says before taking a long drink from his bottle. You feel your face heat up when he runs his tongue over his lips. “And B, I’m not looking for a one night stand either.”

“No?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from his lips. He smirks slightly and shakes his head.

“I’d need at least a week with you,” he says. You can’t help the laugh the erupts from you. He smiles as he watches you. “What do you say?” He asks. Before you can answer, someone else is tapping on your shoulder. You turn to find another man.

Under normal circumstances, those circumstances being the man you were currently sitting next to not being there, he would have been a perfectly attractive man. However, your present company seemed to make every other man on the planet pale in comparison. The new suitor smiles at you, a smile that would no doubt be dazzling if you hadn’t already seen the other man’s.

“Care to dance?” He asks, nodding towards the empty space in the room where one couple was drunkenly swaying to some song in their head. You could give him a simple ‘no thank you’ but quickly decide that wouldn’t be any fun. Instead, you reach over next to you, placing your hand on the knee of the man beside you. You feel him twitch under your touch and fight not to smirk.

“Sorry. My boyfriend just got off work,” you tell him. Your ‘boyfriend’ waves at the other guy, a smirking playing at his lips. The man leaves you alone, quickly moving on to another girl in the room. A hand comes over yours and you look over at him.

“Can I at least know my girlfriend’s name?” He asks. You laugh and pull your hand out from under his.

“Y/N,” you tell him, picking your bottle back up. You feel his eyes on you as you take a drink. “Y/N Y/L/N. And you are?”

“Dean Winchester,” he says quickly.

“Babe?” Dean’s voice draws you from the memory. He’s standing in front of you now, a piece of cloth in his hands. You look at it then at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If this is a kinky thing, I’m not in the mood,” you tell him. He rolls his eyes.

“Will you trust me?” He asks. You smile a little and nod. He moves to stand behind you and carefully slips the cloth over your eyes. You sigh as he ties it in place. “Can you see anything?” He asks. You hear him moving back around you and can imagine he’s waving a hand in front of your face.

“Nothing. Dean, what’s this about?” You ask him. He chuckles and takes your hands in his, pulling on you. You take a couple of clumsy steps and hear the door of the Impala opening.

“It’s a surprise,” he says, guiding you carefully into the front seat of the car.

“You’re acting weird,” you tell him. You know he rolls his eyes again before closing the door. A moment later, the door on your other side opens and you feel Dean slide into the seat next to you. His hand comes to rest on your knee, the way it always does when you’re in the car together, before the car starts to move. His thumb rubs against your knee as he drives quietly.

“The Dean Winchester?” You ask, staring at the man next to you. He sits back slightly and nods. You’d heard plenty of stories about the Winchesters and all of their exploits. “I heard you were dead. Like – three different times.”

“Didn’t take. You’re a hunter?” He asks. You nod and look back at the bottle in your hands.

“Are you here for the case?” You ask. He sits back, shaking his head.

“No, actually we live just up the road,” he tells you. You look at him quickly.

“You live somewhere? Like…permanently?” You ask. He laughs lightly and nods, leaning forward onto the bar.

“Yea. Sammy and I have a place. It’s, ugh, an old bunker for a secret society that died out in the 50’s. It’s pretty awesome,” he says. You nod, mulling this over for a moment. “So what’s the case?” He asks, looking back at you now. You shrug and glance at the window.

“Vengeful spirit. Wanna go on a salt and burn with me?” You ask, smiling at him. You knew you could definitely use the muscle. It would take you all night to dig the grave up on your own. But with Dean’s help you could be done in a few hours and maybe even have time for a little something else. Dean smiles as he watches you, as though reading your mind and nods.

“My car’s parked out front,” he says. You smile widely and quickly finish off your beer. Dean tosses some cash onto the bar before rising to his feet and holding a hand out for you. You take his hand, your fingers interlocking, as he pulls you from the bar.

You feel the car come to a stop and cut off. The driver door opens then closes and a moment later your door opens. Dean’s hand takes yours and he carefully helps you from the car. You can smell the dirt and feel the soft earth under your feet.

“Dean, where are we??” You ask, sighing. He stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders from behind. He reaches up and pulls the blindfold off. You blink against the late evening sunlight and look around. It was a sight you knew well but you were very confused as to why you were here. “A cemetery? Are we working a case?” You ask, looking back at Dean. He rolls his eyes.

“Not just any cemetery,” he says, turning you to face the graves again. You sigh as you look around before breaking into a wide smile as it hits you.

“Our first date,” you say as his arms snake around your waist.

You’re sitting on the edge of the hole you and Dean had been working on for some time now. He’s shed a couple of layers, his jacket and flannel shirt, leaving himself only in the tight black t-shirt that clung to him with sweat. You bite your lip as you watch him move another shovel full of dirt out of the hole.

“Ya know, as much as I love that you’re checking me out right now, we could be done if you’d help,” he says suddenly, looking over at you. You blink then smile coyly and shrug.

“Well, you’ve been trying to show off this whole time I thought I’d finally let you,” you tell him. He stops and turns to face you, resting his arm on the standing shovel.

“It is working?” He asks with a smirk. You shake your head as you look him over. Pushing off the ground, you slide down into the grave and walk over to him.

“I mean, if I had a thing for the sexy, bad-boy hunter with a heart of gold, maybe,” you say. He throws his head back laughing and you suddenly realize you could spend the rest of your life watching him laugh. You quickly shake away those thoughts as you reach for the shovel. You dig into the dirt and hit something hard instantly. Looking back at Dean, you smirk, “Finished.” His eyes narrow and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you kneel down and wipe the dirt from the top of the coffin. With Dean’s help, you pry open the top half of the casket.

“Well, there she is,” he says, pointing to the old bones.

Dean climbs out of the hole then offers you a hand. You take his hand and allow him to pull you out as well. Your pour the salt over the remains as Dean dumps the gasoline in. You pull the box of matches from your back jean pocket and strike one on the side of the box before dropping the lit match into the open coffin.

“So,” Dean starts as the flames engulf the body. You look over at him. “You think I’m sexy.” You roll your eyes and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him into a deep kiss quickly. His hands find your waist instantly as his lips move against yours. You pull away from his lips abruptly and take one of his hands in yours, pulling him away from the burning grave and back to the Impala parked a few yards away. “Are we leaving?” Dean asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice. You laugh lightly and open the back door before sliding in.

“You coming?” You ask, looking out at him when he doesn’t follow. He stares down at you in disbelief before shaking his head and getting in quickly, closing the door behind him. You move into his lap, straddling his waist as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Ya know, I’ve got a bed back at the bunker,” he says, his fingers grazing the skin at the edge of your shirt. You smile and lean in, kissing his lips briefly.

“We’ll get there eventually,” you tell him. He smirks slightly.

“Oh?” He asks. You laugh lightly and nod, running your fingers against the back of his neck.

“Well, yea. You said you’d need at least a week with me, right?” You ask. He blinks and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“I did say that,” he says, nodding. You smile and lean back in to him, pausing just before meeting his lips again. He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday, Sweetheart.” You let out a laugh before kissing him.

Dean’s lips graze against your cheek gently and you smile, running your hands over his arms. He squeezes your waist slightly before turning you around to face him. You bite your lip and look down.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” you confess. He smiles before his lips find your forehead and you look back up at him.

“I remember everything about that night. I remember what you were wearing, what you were drinking. I remember the entire conversation on the way to the cemetery. I remember that first kiss and then you taking charge like you did. I remember taking you back to the bunker and staying up all night just talking. And the next morning, we made breakfast together and you met Sammy,” he says, his eyes soft as he watches you. You swallow hard, suddenly on the brink of tears. “And you stayed for a week.”

“And that week turned into two which turned into a month,” you say, laughing lightly. Dean smiles and his lips graze down the bridge of your nose.

“And a year later, here we are,” he says, his voice soft. You smile and close your eyes, standing there in his arms. His lips brush against your cheek before coming to rest next to your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. Your smile somehow manages to grow even wider as you lean away from him slightly. He’s watching you again, afraid he’s stepped too far. You stand up and press your lips against his in a soft, tender kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before you pull away.

“I love you too,” you tell him. He lets out a breath and you laugh lightly. “Did you think otherwise?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re too good for me. It would make more sense if you didn’t,” he says. You roll your eyes at him before running your fingers into his hair.

“I moved in with you pretty much after one night together. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him. He smiles and nods slightly.

“Well that’s good, cause I meant what I said a year ago,” he tells you. You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna marry you someday.” You laugh again before pressing your lips against his, hoping it wouldn’t take him a year to get around to that too.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader #reader insert #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #song fic #fanfiction #fanfic #spn

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year

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right where i want you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That pulls a laugh from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His demeanor switches in an instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s this one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#walk him like a dog bitch walk him like a dog #rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbot smut #rhett abbott x you #outer range fic #outer range fanfic #outer range fanfiction #no use of y/n

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jungle-angel · 2 months

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Under The Stars In Spring (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett finally have some time alone so you decide to make use of the barn loft for once

Warnings: SMUT (18+ no minors allowed), breeding kink, Rhett being too sexy for his own good etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @bradleybeachbabe @bradshawsbaby @sebsxphia

You and Rhett practically jumped from the truck, running towards the barn and riding the high of his win from that night, his last and final ride of his career which had ended in a quick and sudden victory.

You and him slipped quietly into the dimly lit barn, all the critters having come in from the fields and pastures just hours before. Spring had officially come to Wabang and with it the warm weather which would allow you and Rhett to sleep in one of two places, either on the enclosed part of the porch or in the barn loft and it looked like the latter might just be where you ended up.

The two of you were giggling and laughing like a pair of naughty schoolkids, even as he drew you into his arms, his cobalt eyes staring into yours. You swayed against each other, filled with a longing you had only known once before. You didn't know where it came from or why it was there, only that you desperately needed and wanted Rhett.

"Sweetheart, look at me," he said, his voice deep and gravely.

You hummed as he tilted your chin up to meet his face. Yours and Rhett's eyes fluttered shut, only to be met with his warm lips pressing gentle kisses to your own.

"Want you so fuckin bad," he whispered. "M'so hot for you baby."

You reached up and gently brushed your fingertips against his cheek, shocked at how warm he was, burning even. You eagerly returned the kiss, your fingers gently hanging onto his shirt collar.

"Hayloft," you whispered in between.

"Hmmmm?" Rhett purred, brushing his cheek against yours.

"Hayloft," you whispered again. "Can't fuckin take it anymore, I need you."

Rhett laughed, low and deep in his chest as he followed behind you, right up to the hayloft. No sooner had that trapdoor shut than he pulled you into his strong arms and attacked your neck, drawing a moan from you. God it was heaven, the feeling of his warmth against yours and Rhett kissing every sensitive little spot.

"So sensitive," he chuckled naughtily.

You laughed a little before your hands gently pushed him onto the soft haypile, a cheeky look of admiration in his eyes as you straddled his lap and kissed him full on the lips. Your kissing grew sloppier and more needy as he pulled you against him, his denim clad hips rubbing against your own and in desperate need of just a little bit of friction.

"Aw fuck....." he hissed. "Gotta get this shit off."

You eagerly helped him push off his jacket, then his mint green flannel and the grey t-shirt he wore beneath, your hands roaming across his warm body, up and down his chest.

His hands roamed across your lower back, slipping up the fabric of your t-shirt to unhook your bra. He carefully pulled it off from under your shirt, pawing at your now freed breasts. Rhett pulled your t-shirt up and over your head before tossing it to the corner where his own lay in a heap.

"Oh honey," he groaned, your tits pressing against his own. "Feels so fuckin good, feelin your titties against mine."

You giggled a little before you trailed a kiss down his cheek and over his neck, ghosting across his collarbone and over his chest. Rhett sighed and moaned happily as you sucked and licked at his nipples, trailing over his sternum and down his belly.

"Wait......wait....." he said suddenly. "C'mere darlin......c'mere......"

You let your husband guide you up so that you were once again face to face as he pressed gentle little kisses to your lips. His belt clinked as you undid it, both of you freeing yourselves from the last few pieces of clothing.

"Want you to fuckin ride me," Rhett said, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"You sure?" you asked with a sly grin.

He nodded before pressing another kiss to your lips.

With Rhett's guidance, you eased yourself onto his hard, throbbing cock. You gasped at how easily it slipped into your wet, aching pussy and how gently his big hands had gripped your waist.

"Easy, easy there darlin......here we go....."

You gasped at the sensation, the pleasant tingling between your legs as your hips started to rock back and forth. It hurt a little, but it was only because your husband was so big.

"Shhhhh.......sweetpea it's alright......" Rhett murmured, holding you close to his body, his hips rocking against your own, his gentle thrusts causing your stomachs to flutter. "Shhhh.......calm down now........there we go.......look at you takin me so well honey, I'm so proud of you......"

You pressed another kiss to his lips, overwhelmed by his praise. "You're too good to me Rhett," you sighed.

Rhett smiled into the kiss, taking careful pains to keep his own rhythm steady. "Shhhh darlin......." he hushed. "Wanna enjoy you........wanna feel you........there we go.......good girl.....damn honey, wanna fill you up so fuckin bad....."

You felt your legs clench and an explosion of warmth suddenly blooming between your legs, the both of you cumming at the same time. When you had both regained your senses, you helped clean each other up as best you could, snuggling under some of the barn blankets as you gently explored each other's bodies.

"You think it'll feel good to finally retire at thirty one?" you chuckled.

"(Y/n) I'm lookin forward to it," he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Still gotta work that teachin job at your school but it'll be worth it."

You leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before you both fell asleep in each other's arms, the sounds of the peepers lulling you both to sleep and the moon shining in through the skylight above.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #outer range #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader smut

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memento-rory · 23 days

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➞ 𝑭𝑨𝑻𝑬.

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a brief timeline of mythical!reader and spencer’s relationship. (requested by anon.)

✭ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: literally none. just a cute lil fic <3

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1.2k

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a very simple fic as it is technically my first one, but if you’d like a deeper look into this timeline, i’d be happy to oblige! <3 i love this little weirdo fr. no beta, we die like men here. (that being said if anyone ever wants to beta read for me, i would appreciate it <3 i always miss the dumbest shit fr.)

February, 2019.

It’s been a few hours since Mythical Entertainment announced they’ve acquired Smosh, and you can’t possibly be more excited. Rhett & Link throw a party to celebrate Smosh’s next chapter, and you gather in merriment with all of your coworkers, new and old.

You’ve only met a handful of Smosh members — Ian, Courtney, Shayne — all of whom have been featured on the GMM channel once or twice before. The rest are sort-of new (at least in person) faces, but they’re all nice enough, and before the night is over, you’ve introduced yourself to almost everyone, save for a man standing off to the side with a red Solo cup in his hand, just taking it all in.

“Great party, huh?” You ask him as you sidle up next to him, smiling.

He looks as though he’s a little surprised you’re talking to him, but he nods, swallowing a sip of his drink. “Yeah, awesome party.” He smiles softly, extending his hand out to you to shake. “I’m Spencer.”

“Hi, Spencer,” You shake his hand, grinning over at him, “I’m (Y/N), and I’m super excited to be working with you now.”

Spencer’s smile grows and his cheeks take on just a hint of pink. “Yeah, it’s gonna be great for sure. We’re all really excited too.”

His grip doesn’t loosen as your short conversation winds down, and his gaze lingers for a second too long before he realizes he’s still holding your hand.

April, 2019.

It’s been two months since the merger with Smosh, and you see Spencer everywhere. It’s to be expected, obviously — you work in the same office — but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t actively seeking him out most days.

He’s funny, he’s friendly, he’s charming. He knows everything there is to know about any game you’re ever interested in. He’s a great conversationalist too — every talk you have with him flows smoothly, there’s no awkwardness. You really enjoy him as a person, and he seems to feel the same.

He’s also very quietly thoughtful — if he makes a run to the kitchen for another Kickstart, he always grabs you something and swings by the Mythical side of the office to drop it off. He never draws any attention to it, he just starts up a conversation with you, like he just so happened to be in the Mythical area and coincidentally had your favorite snack or drink on hand.

He spends more time with you after this, inviting you to group hangouts on the weekends or to game with him late at night on Discord.

A month later he finally gets the courage to ask you on a date, and you give him a very enthusiastic “Yes.”

June, 2019.

It’s been a month since you agreed to a date with Spencer, and it’s been an absolute dream.

He takes you out on nice dates, but you spend most date nights at either of your places, watching movies or playing games in dim lighting and splitting takeout.

He asks you to be his girlfriend a month after your first date.

You haven’t told anyone, except for a few of each of your closest friends/coworkers. You’re able to keep it a secret until you accidentally show up to work wearing one of Spencer’s favorite crewnecks.

You decide to tell everyone at the company that day, and Ian claps Spencer heartily on the back. “I knew you had it in you.” He jokes, and everyone laughs.

You request that it be kept a secret, and several people make a motion of zipping their lips closed.

December, 2019.

It’s been six months since you and Spencer started dating, and he pops the question.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

The question doesn’t surprise you at all, really. You spent most of your time at Spencer’s place anyway. You tell him, “Absolutely, I do.”

People are quick to speculate after. There are so many photos of you and Spencer in the same rooms despite being apart. You show up in short bursts in Mythical videos wearing his clothes. You have pictures with his cat.

Most of the shared fanbase give you respect, reiterating to their peers that you’re just good pals, and talk mostly dies down.

You wouldn’t ever encourage them, but you have to hand it to your fanbases — they are good detectives.

June, 2020.

It’s been a year since you agreed to be Spencer’s girlfriend, six months since you moved into his place, and three months since quarantine started.

With a lot of the Mythical production being limited, you have a lot more free time, and Smosh fans have latched onto you. You do a couple gaming videos over Zoom with the Smosh Games crew, and comments flood about how Spencer can be heard in the background of some of your clips. Spencer streams on Twitch, and people in his chat swear they hear you singing in the other room.

Someone in chat asks him how he’s doing, and he instinctively starts his sentence with “We’re–” before stopping and correcting himself with “I’m–” but it’s too late. People demand to know who “we” includes, but he brushes over it, saying he was simply talking about him and his (and your) cat.

You let them speculate. God knows people could use some sort of hope.

June, 2023.

It’s been four years since you and Spencer made it official. Your relationship is as good as ever, the two of you obviously comfortable and happy with four years under your belt.

Ian and Anthony buy Smosh back from Mythical Entertainment. Obviously they throw a party, inviting all of the Mythical crew for one last hurrah together before (financially) parting ways.

The party is held in the same place as the one where everyone celebrated Mythical’s purchasing of Smosh so many years ago, and you have a moment of deja vu.

At your table, Spencer places his hand on your thigh, rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress. “We met here.” He says, with a goofy grin on his face.

“We did.” You beam back at him, “We’ve come full circle.”

Spencer proposes that night before bed. He can’t help himself.

(You’d discussed marriage before, both agreeing that five years together was the sweet spot for a proposal, but after ending up in the same celebration hall where you’d met, he knows this is fate.)

Of course you say yes, kissing him through happy tears, and later that night, you decide you want the entire world to know that Spencer Agnew belongs to you and only you, for the rest of time.

You snap a photo of the two of you, with your ring on full display by your face, before opening up Instagram to post it.

By the way. the caption reads.

You turn off your notifications and leave your phone on the nightstand for the rest of the night, losing yourself in the man who will soon be your husband.

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew x you #anon request #rory writes #requests are open! :)

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rhettabbotts · 1 month

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on days off, dilf!rhett likes to sleep in only if babysitter is with him. When she tries to get up and make coffee, he pulls her back into bed by the back of her neck or tugs on her hair 🤤

oh yes YES!!!

rhett hardly ever gets to sleep in. runnning a ranch is a full time job and then some. he’s usually up before the sun is but sundays are his resting days. and you better not even think about moving before 10am. his strong arms are locked around your middle in a vice grip, like you’ll float away if he lets go.

when you stir, his hold tightens. it nearly takes your breath away. you try to move away from the snoring cowboy slowly, desperately needing to use the bathroom and start a pot of coffee. all you get in return is a low grumble and a huff of air against your skin.

“where d’you think you’re goin’, little lady?” rhett protests, voice rough and laced with sleep.

“i need caffeine.”

“later.”

you roll your eyes affectionately and eventually pry yourself away from the human furnace but you don’t get very far before a hand wraps itself around your ponytail and tugs hard. hard enough to back you fall back into his chest.

“i said later,” rhett commanded.

needless to say, you didn’t make the coffee. but you definitely didn’t go back to sleep either.

#ugh i love them #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett x babysitter #dilf rhett 4 ever <3 #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott drabble

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 3 months

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You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink.... Word Count: 3744 TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)

Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat.

However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?

What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.

As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”

She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.

You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.

Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–

Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.

It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.

However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away.

You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.

Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity.

You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.

So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling.

Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.

The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”

Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.

Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding.

Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you.

But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages.

Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss.

But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?”

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”

He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next.

Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.

Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard.

Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”

Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.

Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip.

Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.

Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Thanks to @ohtobeleah for letting me include the honorary Dagger in her event 😂 I've wanted to write this for a while and it was the perfect motivation to do so

Tag list: @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @callsign-phoenix, @lt-natrace, @superskittles, @wkndwlff, @rhettabbotts, @ryebecca, @sio-ina-bottle, @lewmagoo, @basiccortez, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah

#fic #leahsgalentinesdayspecial #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #outer range #lewis pullman #fluff #love confessions #kissing #language tw #drinking tw #drunk behavior tw

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delopsia · 1 year

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About Last Night | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 6,700 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Virgin!Rhett, shameless childhood best friends to lovers trope, unprotected sex in a hotel room, loss of virginity, first kisses, reader teaching Rhett how to eat them out, and a lazy morning after snippet. A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Someone's gone and replaced your flowers with cement replicas. Hundreds of pounds each, weighing heavier and heavier with every moment that passes. Brittle stems threaten to slip out of your sweaty grasp and shatter into a million tiny pieces.

"What did you say?" His wavering words are so weak that you almost don't hear him speak at all.

But you do.

And repeating yourself is just as hard as it was the first time you opened your mouth.

"Congratulations."

Even from so far away, you can feel his gaze drop down to the colorful mess in your hands. Vivid hues of red and yellow, the dainty little petals still glistening from the sudden onset of rain. In hindsight, an umbrella would have been a good idea.

"You..." his head tilts back up, still not moving, "for...me?" Why is it that you already knew he would look behind himself, like someone better, more deserving, would be behind him?

You're glad you chose this spot to surprise him. Where it's dark, and the blinding stadium lights can't cast a spotlight on your contorting face as you scramble for words. Specific sounds that each carry their own unique meaning; all you need to do is open your mouth and make a noise.

But you can't.

Maybe you don't need to, though. Because Rhett's feet are moving, boots audibly scuffing against the dirt because he's not picking them up high enough. Albeit, moving very slowly, as if you're not real, just a ghost of the past that'll turn into mist if he isn't careful.

His heels dig into the ground a mere foot away from you. Like he's met the end of an invisible leash. Eyes back on the flowers, then you once more. "Sunflowers?"

"And tulips," the words spill out of your mouth so quickly that you hardly know what you said, "you...told me a long time ago that sunflowers were your favorite."

The red tulips only made their way into the bouquet because the florist had a shortage of sunflowers. It was either hand him an absurdly tiny bouquet of flowers or spruce it up with the same color tulips he gave you after graduation, way back when. Before you left.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Lightning flickers. Lights up the sky for the briefest instance. One fleeting shot of Rhett's face. Eyes so wet they shimmer. Dirt on his unshaven jaw. He reaches out. Doesn't take the flowers when you hold them out for him. No, he just...touches them. Like he's unsure if they're real.

"You told me that you were never coming back to Wabang," it's almost strange to hear his voice this clearly. No longer muffled by a cell phone speaker.

"I did," licking your lips, "but I never said I wouldn't come back for you."

That... maybe you shouldn't have said that. All it's taken is those few words for this cowboy to go still again. Doesn't even blink. All he's capable of is staring back at you. Blank. No easy-going smile. No childish teasing. Hell. He doesn't even breathe.

Again, lightning flashes across the sky. Veins of light scattering and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Even so, you catch the upturn of the corner of Rhett's lip. Lopsided. Fighting its way across his face.

His hand is traveling. Across the petals. Down the stems. Right across your boiling hand and up your arm. Feather-light, never vanishing. Doesn't stop until those wandering fingertips brush across your cheek.

All of a sudden, he's taking that last step forward. Closing the gap between your bodies. Thunder booms. Shaking the ground beneath your feat. Feels like a goddamn earthquake. But you can't think. Can't acknowledge the storm. Because Rhett's leaning in and. And. And—

"Just for me, huh?" His hot breath fans out against your lips. Noses bumping together. You've known this man your entire life. And yet. You don't recall ever being this close. But this. This.

You've waited a lifetime for this. "Yeah."

That smile breaks across his face. The last push you need to lean in.

You could never have imagined that Rhett Abbott's lips taste like strawberry chapstick.

It's only for a second, parting just as quickly as you'd met, eyes fluttering back open, even though you don't recall shutting them. But one kiss isn't enough. Not when Rhett's taking his hat off, pressing the brim of it flat against your shoulder blades, drawing you impossibly closer. Your arms find themselves winding around his neck as you meet him again, flowers draped haphazardly against his shoulder, long forgotten.

The storm is beginning to rage again, but all you're capable of comprehending is Rhett's mouth. Rhett's bitten lips and the barely there divot in the bottom left corner of them; remnants of a scar with a story that pains you to recall. Warm fingers grasp at your jaw, careful and delicate, keeps you grounded between every fleeting kiss. Each beginning before you've realized it; fleeting, too quick for your liking.

Maybe it's the kiss-drunk frustration that has your free hand moving, or maybe it's moving on its own; seizes that scruffy chin all the same. Two-day-old stubble scrapes against your palm as you hold him still to kiss him proper. The way you've been yearning for years.

Tiny, hard bullets strike at your exposed skin, bringing with them a rain so cold it stings. Your once quiet world dissolves into mind-numbing noise as hail bounces off of tin roofs and cracking pavement.

"Hang onto me," Rhett murmurs against your lips, so close but so hard to hear. He's stepping forward, carting you backward, leaving you with the choice to cling to his shoulders or fall. Doesn't stop until your back is hitting a cold building wall, your body shielded by the overhang of the roof.

"But the hail is still hitting you." Your lips are moving, but you can't hear what you're saying, not under this metal roof. There isn't enough room under it to cover him, too, not in this position; sleet striking against those broad shoulders, hail bouncing off his backside and landing by your feet.

He's tilting his hat back up, settling it right atop that soaked, tangled mop of hair. "Don't care."

Oh, how his mouth fits against yours so perfectly. A surging tide of warmth in this mind-numbingly cold rain, the only thing keeping you from being whisked away by the howling wind. Teeth nip at your lower lip with gentle tugs that have you gasping into his wickedly talented mouth. Even the stubble that scratches at your skin can't stop you from leaning into it; discomfort be damned.

Rhett's hands are everywhere, running up your hips, pressing into the space between your shoulder blades, curling around your jaw, tightening around your waist. So frenzied that you're distracted by their roaming until that hot, wet tongue laps against yours, and all of a sudden, you can't breathe.

"Fuck," he gasps; it's hard to feel so guilty about needing air when he's open-mouthed, panting like a dog in the summer sun.

Even the trembling that's settled into your hands can't stop you from trying to pull him closer, not a centimeter of space between your panting bodies. And God is Rhett trying his best to give you that; presses you flat against the wall, heaving chest bumping against yours whilst a wayward leg steps between yours—

"Ah."

Fuck, was that you?

Rhett's thigh shifts, has another one of those sounds boiling up in your throat as it unintentionally grinds against your core. A soft pressure that you're fighting the urge to grind against; barely there but enough to have your heart rate spiking.

"Shit," Rhett's eyes have gone wide, the whites of them flashing in the poor lighting. "Did I hurt you?"

Oblivious.

Completely, utterly oblivious.

"'m sorry," his muttering barely audible, already beginning to reel backward, "I didn't...did I overstep?"

Words would work just as well, but instead of opening your mouth, you find yourself stepping forward. Clinging to his wet shoulders for balance as you slot your thigh between his and raise it. Just high enough to press against that hardness that's formed in his jeans, straining against its confines.

Those eyelashes of his flutter, eyes rolling back for the briefest second. "Oh."

As the thunder rolls once more, his thighs flex, muscles contracting beautifully as he draws your leg harder against him. You're not even getting any attention, and yet the sensation of him grinding down against you is enough to have a shiver rattling down your spine. He's leaning back in, still panting as your lips brush together once more.

A siren pierces the air. A steady wail that has your skin prickling. Rhett's arms tighten. Drawing you into his chest. As if he can protect you from a potential tornado.

"'ve gotta hotel down the road," he starts; between the storm and the siren, you're lucky you hear him at all, "do you maybe..."

He doesn't need to finish his sentence before you're nodding your head.

Your back hits the door so hard that the frame rattles. A sound that should be so quiet and yet sounds like it's being blasted through a megaphone, echoing down the hallway. You should be opening your eyes, looking around to see if anyone's heard it, but it's so hard to focus when Rhett's teeth graze your lips like that.

He hardly expects you to chase him when he retreats, eagerly nipping at that thin bottom lip, gently tugging. You're not sure if it's meant to be a warning or a tease, but he's gasping into your mouth all the same.

Next to you, his hand fumbles with the lock on the door, plastic card bumping into everything in its path on its way to swipe through the reader. Slides through once. Twice. Three times.

No dice.

"Are you sure it's the right key?"

"Well," drawing away, he looks over to the card reader. Tries again. Same result. "...It worked earlier."

A shrill beep cuts through the air. And all of a sudden, you're moving backward. Treading blindly through unfamiliar territory. Unnatural gait making it hard to keep your lips on Rhett's for more than a second at a time. Broken with every step. Teeth clattering together. Feet tangling. Shoes coming off. Landing God knows where.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, but Rhett's still moving; all it takes is the slightest collision of bodies, and you're falling back onto the mattress. Not as gracefully as you'd like, but thankfully, Rhett can't see it. Eyes closed as he reaches behind his head, hooking his thumb under the collar of his shirt and tugging it over his head.

You need a drink.

Or five.

Because since when did Rhett Abbott look like he was hand sculpted by the Gods? From the moment you catch sight of the hard lines of his stomach, you know you're in trouble. And that shirt just has to rise higher, slowly revealing the swell of his chest. The biggest part of him; wide, with muscles that look big and pillowy until they flex.

And the dull, golden lighting from the bedside lamp does nothing but cast deep shadows against where he's most defined; the fruit of a lifetime of manual labor. Built for purpose rather than appearance. Moving back out to Wabang suddenly doesn't sound so bad, not if you get to see this every day.

"I know I'm..." Rhett's reaching up, pawing a hand through his unruly hair, poorly conceals the redness that's blossomed in the tips of his ears. "Not much to look at, but..."

"I'd beg to differ." It's out of your mouth before you can realize it. Now it's your turn to sheepishly look at the wall, unwilling to let Rhett catch the horror flaming in your eyes, gaze trained on the wall.

The bed dips as he sinks down onto it, knees settling between your parted legs, slowly but surely crawling up until your faces are mere inches apart once more. Even the flexing of muscles in your peripheral cannot bring you away from your sudden interest in the tacky floral pattern the hotel has chosen for its wallpaper.

But the kisses being peppered across your cheek definitely threatens to break your resolve.

"Hey." Kiss. "D'you wanna look at me?" Kiss. "Hm?"

You're turning to meet that next kiss, neck straining as you twist to catch those swollen lips of his. In the back of your head, you have a sneaking suspicion that yours must be in a similar state. On their own, your legs are rising, thighs hitching over his hip bones like they're meant to be shelved there.

Thunder strikes the ground with a heavy fist, but even the earsplitting noise can't distract you from the way Rhett's hips grind down into yours. Jeans doing little to stop you from feeling the length of him, hard against your clothed cunt. Has you whining into his mouth, rising to meet him on the next roll downward. A wayward hand toys with the hem of your shirt, fingers delving just far enough to brush against skin before retreating as if you've burned him.

"It's alright," Without a second thought, you're reaching down, taking hold of his wrist, guiding it back, "You can touch me."

"'S this my ol' shirt?" He says it as if he doesn't already know the answer, words vibrating against your lips, whilst his hand cautiously smooths up your side. Blunt nails dragging against your skin, stopping just short of the swell of your breasts. Shy.

"No," you giggle, "I just happen to have a shirt identical to the one I hijacked from your closet." Funny; it feels like it was just yesterday. Two dumb teenagers ditching prom to go joyriding around town because their dates sucked, their clothes were too stiff, and the music was one step away from Kids Bop.

"Looks good on you," He's humming, thumb swiping back and forth at the sensitive skin beneath your breast; not stepping that line yet, but debating. "'M sure the fella who gave it to ya was a lot more fun than the noname who got his knickers 'n a twist 'cause your dress didn't match his tie."

You're sure you'd remember that guy's name if your attention wasn't already preoccupied with the feeling of endless muscle beneath your palms. Smoothing up Rhett's chest, stopping short of a tattoo and a scar.

"You can touch me, cowboy," you say, and it's almost a little ironic that you're giving him permission to touch your breasts, considering the heavy cock languidly rolling against you, "I don't mind."

Lightning flickers outside the window, just bright enough to cast a little more light on the way his eyebrows raise. "Are you sure?"

All it takes is your shallow nod, and finally, his big, rough palm is gliding over your chest; he's not even done anything, and you're gasping. So distracted that you're caught off guard by the lips that catch yours, swallowing down your noises as a thumb swirls over a rapidly hardening nipple.

On its own, one of your hands delves into those messy curls resting at his nape, tangling in them, pulling him down into you. His insistent mouth draws yours open, drowns you in remnants of strawberry chapstick and the vanilla candy he sucked on when he drove you here. Doesn't stop, even when your head is spinning.

His tongue meets with yours; such a sudden appearance that you both startle as if you've been struck by a bolt of lightning for crossing such a boundary.

You shouldn't be here; you shouldn't be beneath Rhett Abbott, shouldn't have your legs hitched over his hips, but kissing him is so natural. Easy. Like you were always meant to be wind up here, your hands in childhood best friend's hair and his disappearing beneath the shirt you so shamelessly took from his closet all those years ago. Maybe there was a truth to those undying rumors that once followed you like a plague.

There's a tug on the edge of your shirt, and it's a damn miracle you're able to tear your mouth off of his long enough to get it over your head.

"Fuck," Rhett's eyes downright sparkle at the sight of you, "ain't you just beautiful."

One kiss. Two. Three. Before he's nibbling at the junction of your jaw, working his way down to the soft spot beneath your ear, and all you're capable of is twisting your fingers in the waves of his hair. Silky soft, still damp from the rain. It's all you can do to keep yourself from floating out the window, feeling those wandering lips kiss their way down to your collarbones. Teeth nip at them, threaten to leave a mark, but never quite do.

"This okay?" He murmurs, somewhere in between kissing, licking, his way to the valley between your breasts.

There's more to that statement because he's still talking, but you're already answering him, "More than okay."

Fuck, his mouth is boiling. Tongue like lava as it tentatively laps over your nipple, saliva threatening to burn right through you. It's all you can focus on, sinful noise rolling out of your throat long forgotten. Back and forth, he rolls that delicate skin between his teeth until he's retreating to shower his attention on the other.

"Rhett," gasping, tugging at his hair, "fuck, Rhett."

"You make my name sound like sin, sweetheart," his chuckle vibrates through your bones like the thunder that rattles this old building, "y' gettin' impatient on me?"

Impatient? Fuck, you think you could die happy just with this.

But he's taking your needy huff as a yes, and you can't complain, not when his hands are sliding down either side of your waist, kissing a trail down your belly. Only interrupted by the waistband of your pants, but those thick fingers are quick to curl beneath.

When you don't tell him no, he tugs. You've hardly got the strength to raise your hips off the mattress, too preoccupied with the wet spot that's long since formed at the forefront of his jeans. Don't get to see it for long because the moment your pants hit the floor, he's thumbing open his belt buckle, the old metal rattling as he tugs those tight jeans past his thighs and down his legs.

You don't recall him having so many scars littered across those long legs of his, pale white with age. One of those things you've missed out on, you suppose.

As he settles back between your legs, running a palm up your thigh, there's a different air about him. Hesitation in his breath, bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth. Those eyes flicker up to you, almost...bashful. "'S this a bad time to admit I've never done this before?"

Huh.

"You mean to tell me that you look like that," you're reaching up to flick your thumb over his dusky pink nipple just to see him jump, "and nobody has tried to jump your bones yet?"

"I...yeah, but...I only," he stammers, cheeks ablaze, can't meet your eye, "wanted...you."

The power flickers while you curl your hand around his cheek, feeling the roughness of his jaw under your palm as he leans into it. In the back of your head, you know that you'll have to talk about these feelings eventually; the ones he's so shamelessly brandished in your absence, the same ones you've avoided, fearing the heartache of unrequited love.

But right now, all you're capable of is smiling dumbly as you lean up to kiss him. "I'll teach you," murmuring against his lips, "but you'll have to promise not to share those new skills with anyone else."

Rhett's sudden grin has your teeth clacking together. "I can work with that." He's got a pretty good start, already toying with the hem of your underwear by the time you lay back once more, obediently pulling them down your legs when you lift your hips for him.

"C'n I...?" Deep blues trained on the sight between your legs, teeth worrying that poor, abused bottom lip.

You think he's about to start drooling.

At your encouraging nod, one of his hands falls onto your bare knee, parts your legs the slightest bit. Slow, as if you'll stop him if he moves too quickly; he leans down to press his lips to the inside of your knee. Kissing, down the delicate flesh of your thigh, unafraid to leave a shower of faint marks in his wake. Marks who have the potential to blossom into dark bruises come morning.

Long hair cascades into his face the lower he goes; it's so easy to reach down and run your fingers through it, tangling as your hand comes to rest on the back of his head. Seems to be the only thing encouraging him to move on from your inner thigh.

Hot breath fans out against your cunt, his mouthing hanging open, but doesn't quite have the nerve to move yet. "And you'll tell me if I do something wrong?"

For a moment, you think you catch a glimpse of that old, shy kid he used to be. The one who preoccupied himself with drawing circles into the dirt with his boot because he couldn't handle making eye contact with you. "Yeah."

This old hotel room is so quiet that you can hear the wet, barely-there sound of his mouth opening, pink tongue poking out. Then he's leaning down, licking a tentative, fat stripe up your cunt. Pauses right above your clit, and when you don't voice any complaints, licks back down. It's not much, but you're sucking in a deep breath anyway.

He's trying. Eyebrows furrowed as he maps you out, lapping gingerly at your entrance, the only thing he seems to be generally familiar with. He's a little more confident as he nuzzles closer and slips that careful tongue inside of you. The tip of his nose brushes against your clit, such a soft contact that has you whining.

Fuck, you can't tell if the quickening of your heart is from his mouth or if it's brought on by how he blinks up at you with those curious ocean blues. Knows he's doing something right because he's rising back up to where his nose was just bumping into you.

"This shit's hard when you can't see what you're doing," he chuckles directly into you, doesn't seem to realize his lips are brushing against your clit as he speaks.

The hand in his hair reaches down, taking hold of that scruffy jaw of his, "Right..." lifting him just a smidge higher; fuck, now he's found it, "here."

Humming, Rhett's eyes flutter closed, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your newly-located clit. Takes it between his lips just to delicately roll it back and forth, sends a delicious shiver right up your spine.

"Rhett," whining his name. Fighting the urge to squirm against the mattress.

Maybe you made a mistake by helping him. Because now that he's found your clit, he's not giving it a moment's rest. Drawing intelligible shapes into it with his tongue, ventures away just long enough to make you think he's done, then returns with a surprising, sloppy vengeance. Downright drooling into you, drenching you so thoroughly that the fingers nudging at your entrance slide in with ease.

Albeit muffled, the sound of your name meets your ringing ears, "fuck, you taste good." Soft noises rumbling out of him, eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks so prettily.

It's as if that initial shyness has completely melted off of him, downright collapses against the bed. Free arm hooking around your thigh and grounding you doesn't let you squirm away from the two thick fingers sliding into you. Deliberate in the way they hook, massaging against your walls in search of something he knows is there.

Your hips twitch.

"That it?" Lord, he really has no issue speaking into your pussy, doesn't he? Doesn't care that his deep voice sends a wave of tingles burning up into your chest. All he's focused on is laving his dumb, hot tongue over that swollen bud and teasing that sweet spot he's found.

Abrupt hail beats against the window, wind screams as it whips around the building, so loud that your gasp is rendered inaudible. There could be a tornado outside your door, and all you can care about is prying your eyes open to look at Rhett fucking Abbott. Tongue hanging out, curls framing the sight of him buried between your legs.

Heat grows in your lower belly. An invisible coil winding tighter and tighter. Fuck, you're, you're—

"Please," struggling for air, your voice strained, "stop."

Everything goes black.

But your eyes are...open.

"Fuckin' hate this town," Rhett mutters under his breath, the faintest whisper of his voice; your giggle is louder than his words. "Hold on, think I got a light."

The bed rises as he clambers off of it, taking with him his ever-so-warm presence. Leaves you to shift against the bed, blinking dumbly as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Oh, how you have not missed the joy of Wabang power outages.

Something small hits the bed, rolls until it bumps against your naked hip. Feels like some sort of tube, not the flashlight you were expecting.

"Did you get lost?" You croak, twisting your head to look in the corner next to the bed. Where the hell did he go?

"'m down here." It's hard to catch, but there's sudden movement down by your feet. That old belt buckle chimes as Rhett riffles through his jeans. The sound stops. And then. Light.

"Forgot this dumb phone had a flashlight in it," he's yet to outgrow that sheepish grumble, light bouncing as he meanders to the bedside table. The phone doesn't create much light at all, hardly illuminates the room when he places it down, but it's enough. Even if it casts heavy shadows across Rhett's body, right down to...

"Good lord."

Rhett's attention snaps back to you. "What?"

But you...will be keeping your thoughts to yourself. Maybe the light is playing tricks on you. Because there is no way he's that well endowed. Thicker more than anything, cock leaning to the left, flushed red tip shiny and leaking against his hip.

The lube resting against your hip is about to become your best friend here in a minute.

"What?" He repeats, the corner of his lip rising as he settles back down on the bed, back in his place between your legs. God, his chin is dripping from you. Shimmering in the light. "'s there a monster lurkin' in here with us?"

"Yes," and you will not be elaborating.

That halfway smile explodes into a dopey grin. Seems to know what you're referring to as he reaches for that neglected bottle of lube.

It's not a trick of the light. The size of him never miraculously changes, even as that big hand of his strokes a generous amount of lube over himself. Explains why he drizzles more over his fingers, pushes them back into you once more with a sickly wet sound.

"D'you need more, first?" He asks. The both of you fully aware that even though he's got three fingers in you now, pumping into you in slow, careful strokes, it may not be enough.

It takes you a moment to decide, "I think I'm alright."

One of his hands falls down by your side, muscles rippling as he braces his weight on it, while the other...

The first kiss of his cockhead against your pussy has you gasping. Doesn't quite jump into pushing into you, instead pushing upward, spreading your lips around him as he rubs against you.

Your mouth opens, ready to hurry him up, but he's already heard what you're going to say.

"I know," he chirps, eyes rolling, "I know."

There's a newfound pressure between your legs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your delicate, dripping entrance. Pushing past that twitching ring of muscle, a pair of gasps dancing through the air, can't quite tell who made which sound.

Rhett's swearing under his breath, little incantations of filthy words that somehow don't measure up to how obscene it feels to stretch open around him. Lube audibly squishes as you struggle to relax and take that cock of his.

"Fuck," he's barely got the tip of himself inside of you, and he's already crumbling. Unable to sit upright anymore, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, muscles downright shivering. "'re you okay, doll?" His hips stalling.

"Keep moving, cowboy." You don't know when you started reaching up, but your arms are looping around Rhett's neck, drawing him down to meet your lips. Short. Messy. Can't close your mouth for more than a second at a time.

It's hard to recall what gave you so much confidence to begin with because it's long since washed away by the drag of his blunt head against your walls. So thick that he rubs right past that sensitive bundle of nerves, you don't recognize the sound it draws out of your bitten lips. Thighs fluttering, clamping down on those strong hips of his, unable to so much as squirm. All you can do is whimper and take it.

"C'n feel you flutterin' 'round me," he grunts against your lips, voice breathy. It's hard to even voluntarily clamp down around him, all to watch his head jolt backward, eyes falling closed. So, so sensitive, and he's only halfway in you. "Fuck, sweetie."

His head drops into your neck, breath warming the skin there, unintentionally gives you a picture-perfect view of his back. A myriad of smooth muscles flexing under the effort of keeping himself up as he pushes into you. So captivating that you hardly realize he's long since quit moving, hips flush with yours.

It's hard to breathe. As if you can't get enough air into your lungs. Nerves wound so tight you fear they'll snap if Rhett so much as twitches inside of you.

"You okay?" His voice sounds so different, an octave lower, gravelly, unruly hair hanging low in his face as he lifts his head.

Involuntarily, you clench down around him. A little flex of muscle that has the both of you closing your eyes. "I think so."

By the time he works up the courage to draw back, the arms bracketing your head are shaking. Maybe you'd have the nerve to tease him if that first shallow thrust into you didn't effectively erase every thought from your head. You can't tell if it's beginner's luck or an advantage of being so thick, but he massages against your sweet spot so nicely.

Your hands are sliding down his pale back, nails biting into the muscle there, "just like that."

"Yeah?" You've forgotten how wonderful that cocky tone sounds on him. He's drawing back a little further this time, albeit slow on that second, careful push back into you. Like he'll break you if he moves too quickly.

Countless times you've pictured this exact scenario in your head; two of you tangled up in a hotel room bed, crossing the one line you were told not to. Steamy dreams depicting a man who fucks you up against the wall, unafraid to take what's his, and whistful daydreams of a cowboy who treats you like royalty as he makes a mess of you.

Never once did this manifest in your thoughts.

His lips ghosting over your features, unable to stay in one place too long. Shamelessly fucks you slow on this thick cock of his, works his way up to deep strokes that make your nails bite into his skin, drowning in the wet drag that makes you feel every inch of him. Outside, the storm rages on, a chaos of noises that these old walls fail to muffle.

But it's still too quiet.

Lightning flickers outside. Lights up the room as you reach out to pry his lip out from between his teeth.

"I wanna hear you," you murmur, squeezing your legs around his hips.

Rhett's eyes avert; can't look you in the eye, despite being so deep inside of you that you can feel his heavy balls pressing into your skin. "Shits embarrassin'."

"It's just me, dummy," as if to emphasize your words, you're leaning up to catch his lips in your own. Unwilling to let him stifle his noises any longer, swallowing down the reluctant whines you draw right out of him.

Such a simple sound that has you clamping down around his cock, downright shivering around him. Only serves to illicit a breathy whimper of your name, starts a downward spiral that you don't think you'll ever come back from.

Your dominant hand is reaching down, fingertips finding your swollen, nearly forgotten clit. A particularly hard thrust has you breaking away from his lips, head hitting the mattress with a soft cry. That initial slowness is starting to fray at the seams, and you don't think you're going to survive it.

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

Deliberate, he repeats it. A wet noise tearing through the room. Once. Twice. Until he's finding a rhythm, strokes punctuated by his breathy gasps for air and pitchy noises. You don't know if it's the sound of him or the delicious way his fat cockhead kisses that little bundle of nerves, but a familiar heat is blooming in your belly regardless.

"'M sorry, I can't help myself," Rhett sputters, words nearly lost to the obscene squelch between your legs. Lube and your own wetness creating a downright mess. "Feel so fuckin' good 'round me."

Every thrust has your body rocking against the bed, almost can't keep your fingers on your tingling clit. It's a fight just to find your voice."Fuck you like you mean it, Rhett."

When you said that, you hadn't expected him to lean back onto his haunches, big palms splaying around your hips, as he fucks into you with purpose. This cheap mattress is starting to squeak, loud enough to be heard in the room next to yours, but you're so preoccupied with the sight between your legs that you can't be brought to care.

His cell phone light casts just enough light for you to catch sight of his thick cock disappearing between your legs. So wet that it's shiny, catching in the light and drawing your eyes back to it every time you go to look away. Powerless to stop him from fucking you how he wants, bullying those sensitive nerves until you're lightheaded, head rolling backward.

"Close," Rhett warns. If you knew where your voice went, you'd be muttering much of the same.

You find yourself fluttering around him again, heat tightening in your belly as he all but collapses on top of you. Face buried in your neck once more, deep, guttural sounds spilling into your skin as the rhythm of his hips begins to falter. Twitchy. Thrusts shortening. Rhett's name is tumbling off your lips. The fingers on your clit growing shaky. Legs clenching around him.

"Rhett," supposed to be a warning. Something. Anything.

But it's too late. Pointless. Without further warning, your body goes taut. Back arching, shaking, as that heat spreads and washes over you, cumming around Rhett's spasming cock with a strangled cry. Can feel his hips stall against yours, his whimpered cry muffled by your shoulder.

Distantly, you're aware of how full you still are. Know that he hasn't pulled out in the slightest, cock twitching as his sticky, hot cum fills you. That's probably another line you weren't supposed to cross, but to hell with it.

The darkness behind your eyelids suddenly isn't so dark anymore. And as you pry them open, you find yourself nearly blinded.

Seems the power came back.

Rhett's already beginning to peel his sweaty body away from yours, albeit at a snail's pace. Fixated on the obscene sight of where your bodies connect, so wet that one of you will likely need to change the sheets after this. The light of his phone was decent, but the bedside lamp properly illuminates him. Cheeks pink, lips so bitten you're surprised he hasn't drawn blood.

"Didn't mean to..." he pants, voice barely there, "didn't mean to cum inside you." Those and of his are moving your legs on their own, parting them, gives himself a better view as he slowly pulls out of you. "I think can see the appeal, though."

And as his eyes flick up to drink up your expression, corner of his lip rising, the thought of cleanup doesn't sound so bad.

You don't recall your bed ever being this warm.

Or...lumpy, for that matter.

This isn't your bed.

But even so, opening your eyes is a tremendous task that you take on as slowly as you can. Taking a deep breath, feeling the stiff sheets move with your body, nose catching a hint of coffee and something fresh, crisp. Identical to the Autumn breeze that filters through Wabang every year, used to nip at your skin as you waited on that slow school bus to pick you and Rhett up.

Your eyes snap open. A switch flipped.

This isn't your bed.

And this isn't your childhood bedroom, either.

This hotel room is familiar, though. Tacky, from the wallpaper to the choice of decor. Bed frame built to appear as if it's been constructed by scrap pieces of chopped wood, an iron sign of a momma bear and her cubs hanging on the wall behind your head. So painfully trademark of Wabang that it hurts.

There are flowers on the bedside table. Familiar red tulips and vivid yellow sunflowers precariously placed in a thin, plastic cup. A second cup sits on top of the first, upside down, the bottom crudely cut out for the stems to fit through it. A makeshift support. You recognize that craftmanship. As if your thoughts have manifested his appearance, the bathroom door squeals open.

There he is.

Severely lacking a shirt, in nothing but his old, sun-bleached jeans, the longer ends of his hair tied back into a small ponytail. His left-hand nurses a cup of coffee, and the right, carefully supported by an off-white brace. That wrist never really did heal the same, another one of those free rodeo trophies.

"Mornin, sleepy head," he chirps, and the roughness in his voice suggests he hasn't been up for long, "thought you'd never wake up."

"My dignity can't take dying in a tacky hotel room," you don't recognize your voice. Strangely raw.

Sitting up requires some effort. Body still half-asleep, limbs downright useless as you drag yourself up from the mattress to take a better look around the room. Are those...your clothes on the floor?

Images flash through your head. Blurry, there and gone in the blink of an eye. Memories flood back into the forefront of your mind like a bad dream. What did you do? Why did you do it? There's absolutely no going back from this—

The bed dips as Rhett settles onto the edge of the mattress. And though you're searching for a hint, a suggestion, of regret, you fail to find it. He's all meek smiles and red ears as he leans over to place his cup on the table. Flashing a series of marks on his back, pale pink in color.

His good hand comes down to squeeze your knee through the comforter, just like it always does. "About last night..."

You don't regret it. And by the looks of it, neither does he. Has no problem locking eyes with you; something unknown burning behind those deep blue eyes as teeth sink into his thin bottom lip. Lips you would give both your kidneys just to kiss one more time. As you drag your attention away from his mouth, your eyes meet once more.

The corner of his lip draws upward.

You don't know who moves first. All you know is that you're surging forward, he's catching your needy mouth in his, and you're falling back into the sheets as one. Hands exploring, pawing at what little clothing dares get between you, hearts aching for more, more, more.

Words can wait a little longer.

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #ao3 oneshot #oneshot #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert

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callsign-hexen · 9 months

Text

Western Skies

Summary: after having dinner with the rest of the Abbott family, you and Rhett enjoy some time together in the field

word count: 4.2K

Warnings: cursing, Rhett being a shy boy around Reader, making out in a field, doing more stuff in a field, dirty talk, oral sex (female), a slight hand job, vaginal fingering, PiV sex in a field, cream pie (reader is on birth control, but wrap it before you tap it, folks), 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, AFAB reader, no use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: This took longer to make due to procrastination, a summer class, and a bachelorette party weekend. Some of the spicy dialogue is based on things that my boyfriend has said to me. I have PLENTY of ideas, but any suggestions or requests are welcome! Enjoy!

You and Rhett had only been seeing each other for two months. You met him years ago in high school when your family moved to town in the middle of your sophomore year. You never talked, but he admired you from afar, almost as if it were love at first sight. Not quite love at the time, but the feeling that something was here. The pretty new girl in town, the one who was quiet, shy, and would never talk unless someone spoke to you first. Usually, it was somebody asking the age-old question: “Why move here?”. You never really knew how to answer that question, as simple as it was. A small town like Wabang being as boring as it is, especially to a teenager, one would wonder who the hell would want to move in instead of moving out.

The two of you somehow managed to never start a conversation with each other for the rest of your high school years. But you knew of each other’s existence well enough that if someone were to have told either of you news about the other that had been going through the town, you would generally know who they were talking about.

Rhett had kept you in the back of his mind as he went throughout his life in Wabang, even during the whole Maria debacle. He often thought of himself as a creep for it, always thinking about a girl he had never even spoken to. But it felt impossible not to do so as he saw you everywhere. At school, at the rodeos, at the general store that you worked at, he would even see you at church whenever his mother would drag him along with the rest of the Abbott clan.

It would only get worse when you started babysitting Amy a few years back.

There was a time when Amy was small enough to where she couldn’t properly learn to ride a horse yet, and the ranch work got so tough that all of the family would have to pitch in on the fields, even Rebecca. With Amy being too young, they had to have someone watch her while everyone else took care of the ranch. That was when you walked further into Rhett’s life.

He happened to be near the front door as he heard a knock early that morning. He was never told who was going to watch Amy; so, as he opened the door, the last person he expected to see was you. You were wearing an oversized sweater that was long enough to cover your hands to combat the chilly morning of the fall season, jeans, and an old pair of boots that he remembers you wearing throughout high school. He almost froze on the spot, taking you in as you stood on the porch. You look up at him, eyes illuminated by the porch light that was turned on as the sun has just barely risen. “W-what are you doin’ here?” he asked you, finally finding his voice.

You breathed out a small laugh, “Well good morning to you too, Rhett. Your mom and Rebecca asked me to watch Amy while you guys go take care of things, so here I am,” you said. You motioned a request to come in with your hand, he moved aside so quickly he almost trip on the carpet. You stepped inside, taking in the Abbott house. You’ve never been over, let alone inside of it.

“So, how’ve you been, Rhett? I’ve seen you at the rodeos, you’re doing pretty good,” you said as you walked around the living room. Rhett already felt his knees grow weak the second he saw you, but every time you say his name, he felt as if he could fall to his knees in an instant if he heard it one too many times. “You come to the rodeos?” He asked you; it took everything in him to keep his voice from giving away how nervous you made him. He felt as if he were a small child talking to their crush for the first time. “Only every one there is, got nothing else to do at night besides staying at home with a cat,” you laughed as you replied, looking over your shoulder at him as you made your way to the kitchen to meet Cecelia as she put on a pot of coffee.

You continued to watch over Amy for three months, after that you two became so close that she and Rebecca would make regular appearances at the General Store to visit you as you worked. It took one year of that for Amy to finally bring Rhett along. And a few short months after for Rhett to finally get the guts to ask you out.

Amy was over looking at the little toy dispensers at the front, searching in her pockets for a quarter or two. Rhett was with you at the register in the back, leaning against it as you cleaned up to close the store, it was a Sunday afternoon which normally meant to close up early around 5 o’clock. He volunteered to straighten up some papers, flyers, and other little things that lined themselves up at the counter. He looked over at you as you swept the floors. “So,” he started, already thinking that he should stop while he’s ahead to keep himself from embarrassment, “what are your plans this week?” You looked up from the floor as you swept the dirt into the dustpan, shrugging, “I’m not sure, mostly just work here and there. I’ll probably just stay home for a bit until this week’s rodeo.” You went over to the trashcan to empty the pan before putting the broom up. “Do you happen to have anything going on around, say Friday night?” he asked, his guts churning as if someone was trying to make butter out of his intestines.

You looked back at him after closing the maintenance closet, “Well, I think I just have a small shift here that morning, but I don’t think I have anything in mind that night. Why?” Rhett shifted his weight on his feet, looking down at the floor before finally looking up and into your eyes. “Well,” he started, “I was wonderin’, if you had nothing goin’ on that night, if you would want to go grab a drink with me? Just us,” Rhett could barely get his words out. You turn to full face him head on, “Just us?” you asked him. He nods at you almost too fast, too eager; he curses himself internally. “Y-yeah, just us two. You don’t have to, it was just a tho-”

“I would love to,” you said before he could finish. “Pick me up at 8:00?”

He froze in his spot; the best possible outcome has now become his worst fear. Last time he felt like this, he was on the back of a bull for the first time in his life. “Absolutely” he said, feeling a little more sure of himself. You gave him your signature, sweet smile, “fantastic, I’ll see you then!”

The two of you have been inseparable since then. Being with each other every night, out late until the two of you were forced to go back to your respected houses. Two months later, to now, you lay in the pasture. The sun was setting over the horizon, coating the field in a gold hue. It was days like these that you knew you would look back on when things got tough. Just the two of you, and the fields of the Abbott land.

You laid tucked into Rhett’s side with your head on his chest, one of his arms was around you, and the other behind his head which had his hat covering his face. His eyes shut as the two of you laid peacefully, bathing in the sunset. The both of you were laying down on an old blanket that Rhett kept in his truck for these days. The ones where you just enjoyed each other’s company under the fiery skies.

His truck was behind you by a couple of yards. The two of you had finished dinner with his folks just an hour before, your first time having dinner with them as Rhett’s girlfriend. The Abbots aren’t a dressy bunch, so you just wore boots, jeans, and a tank top covered by a flannel. Afterward, he has asked you if you wanted to take a drive and watch the sun set. You could never turn down such a request.

You turned your head slightly, almost shoving it into his neck, breathing in the slight scent of the cigarettes he smoked and the cologne he bought only because he thought you would prefer it. You don’t, but it does smell nice. His hold tightened around you, squeezing you into his chest as he shifted his head towards you. His hat raised just enough for his face to show as he looked down at you. You lifted your gaze up to look at him, into his eyes. His azure eyes shone with a brightness that you could feel almost as strongly as the sun ahead of you. A sea that you could dive in and never wish to return. Your eyes had never seen the ocean in real time before, but if you did, you knew it would rival the one in his. He looked at you, his nose touching yours just slightly. You could feel his breath on your lips, his body heat mixing with yours nearly overheating you in the chilly fall evening. As you stared into each other’s eyes, the heat grew more and more. The both of you could feel your want for each other, looking at your lips in contemplation. You tilted your head, silently asking for him to make a move. Answering your call, he slowly leaned down to you and pressed his lips against yours with you leaning up to meet him.

You two had shared kisses before; when he would come back from riding a bull, when he would get hurt doing so, when he dropped you off at home after a date, when you greeted him outside of the General Store after a work shift, and sometimes when you just felt like it. But this was different. Those were harmless, “I adore you”, “I’ll see you soon” kisses. This, this was full of want.

His hands roamed your body with such tenderness that you felt that if they were any lighter, it would be like he was never there.

Your hands brushed through his hair, knocking the hat further off of his head, combing through the dark blonde strands as your lips covered his in a loving, fiery kiss. The sun had set down a little further, the transition between summer and fall causing a chill through the air, causing you to lean further into his arms. The more this goes on, the more his hands grip your hips, almost forgetting to be gentle. You almost want him to.

He moves your leg over to shift over is hip, you’re almost laying on top of him at this point. His hand slides up to cup your ass as the other is wrapped around your shoulder, keeping you close to him as you moan into his mouth at the touch. He starts to kiss down you jaw to your neck, giving tiny nips at your throat. You gasp at the painful pleasure he gave you. He sits up, taking you with him and shifting you over into his lap completely, your thighs on the other sides of his hips. His arms are wrapped around your back, one hand up behind your neck, holding you in place gently, afraid of taking things too far without your say so. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, your tongues dance in a battle for dominance. Your hands moved up around his neck, playing with the curls of his hair. His lips moved further down to your collar bone, moving the collar of your shirt down just enough to place his lips just under it to put a hickey where nobody but him can see it. When he was done, he put his hands back around you, and kissed up to right below your ear where you jaw ended. He quickly learned that you liked that as your moans got louder and began to slowly grind your hips into his. You started to feel him getting harder, you reach down to rub him through his jeans, but he stops you. His hands raised up and placed themselves on your back; you could feel his lips move against your ear as he whispered, “We can stop anytime you say, just give me the word. I don’t want you doing something you don’t want to, or something you regret.”

You leaned back to look him in his cerulean eyes, placing your forehead against his. “I could never regret anything with you, Rhett. I want everything with you, anything you can give me I will happily take and give anything in return. I want you”

His arms tightened around you, holding you impossibly close to him. Sliding them down to your hips. You moved along in the rhythm of his hands, fingers still lacing themselves through his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. A low rumble in his throat tells you to pull just a bit harder. He goes back to his previous quest to kissing your neck. You moan as he reaches the right spot that makes your eyes roll back. His hands squeeze your hips as you roll them into his. He sucks a hickey onto your collar bone as he removes the flannel off of your shoulders, down your arms, and lays it on the grass beside you. He raises your top to remove it as well, his lips going further down into your cleavage. He feels like he finally reached paradise, maybe he didn’t get up from the ground that the bull threw him in this past weekend like he thought he did. He’s just been resting until he found his way into his heaven.

As he cups your breasts, he pushes them together slightly to leave kisses down lower and lower. You remove your hands from his hair to reach back to remove our bra, revealing yourself to him.

“Was this your plan, Rhett? Take me out into a field, make me bare as you ravish me fully clothed?” you smirk at him, going to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Isn’t that every man’s dream?” he retorts back, leaning up to place his lips on yours again as he helps you take his shirt off. Your lips reconnect as your hands slide up his chest, feeling his scar on his left shoulder you often wonder how he got it; the best bet was a riding accident. Out of the many he has had over the years. Flush, chest to chest, the both of you feeling each other over and over until you believed that you had a map of each other in your brain to forever keep. He let out a low grown as you pulled his hair again. He grabbed a good hold on you, lifting himself onto his knees, taking you up with him as your legs wrapped around him fully. He leaned over and carefully placed you onto the ground, keeping himself hovering over you.

He looked down at you as you gazed up at him, his hair in his face, lips slightly swollen after the passionate kisses you had shared. He brought one of his hands up to move a few strands of hair from your face, getting lost in your eyes. “The things you do to me, and what I want to do to you,” he said softly, cupping your cheek. You tightened your legs around him, bringing his hips closer to yours as you locked him in. “What is it you want to do to me, Rhett?” you whispered so softly that he was surprised he could hear it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, your nose, and then finally on your lips again. He then placed his lips next to your ear, “I want to do everything, I want to strip you bare in this field and have you close to me. I want to have you writhe under the sky while you scream my name, we’re so far that nobody could hear you for miles. I want to be inside of you, to feel you.” He moved his kisses down your neck, to your collar bone. “The warmth,” he kept moving down further to kiss each of your breasts and then travelled down the valley. “The wet,” he said as he reached the button on your pants, undoing it as he looked back up at you. “But most of all, I want to hear you beg.”

You helped him slide your jeans from your legs, his lips immediately attacking your inner thighs as they get out of his way and join the rest of your clothes. His hands rubbing up and down your legs; feeling the smooth skin as they wrap around his shoulders, locking him in as he kissed down your inner thighs. He slid his hands up to lay on the dip in your waist as his placed a kiss on your panties, teeth tugging at the fabric lightly. You could feel his breath against your skin, your legs tightened around him in anticipation, his hands tightened around your waist as they slide down to the elastic of your underwear. Hooking his fingers in the band, he began pulling them down as he nipped at your thighs before raising up to hover above you, looking into the depths of your eyes.

You laid bare before him in the grass field on his family’s land, the sun has gone down just enough for the sky to be a dark purple. Becoming dark but you could still see enough to see the loving lust in his eyes as he stared down at you. He brought a hand up to cup your face, his thumb rubbing lightly over your cheekbone before kissing your lips. He traveled the kisses down your body to land him self back down between your legs, finally making his way to where you’ve needed him.

Wrapping his hands around your thighs he pulled you to him; he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You shivered under his touch, your hands moving into his hair. He took his time, methodically moving from licking you to sucking slightly on the bundle of nerves that made you twitch at every stimulation. He closed his eyes and reveled in the taste of you, he could live off of you for the rest of his time here on earth and whatever lies afterwards. You moan loudly as he latched his lips around your clit; sucking and licking like his life depended on it. You pulled his hair as you felt your arousal grow tighter. “You taste so good, darlin’. Fuck, you taste so good,” he shifted one of his hands from your things and inserted a finger into you, going in and out, curling. It feels so different than when you do it. His hands, his fingers, are so much bigger than your small ones. Ever since you first saw them, your dreamed about how they would feel all over you, inside of you.

He went up to kiss your neck again, making his way up to your mouth. You moan into him, silencing your cries. “Let me hear you, baby. What do you want?” he says as he pulls back to look you in the eyes, his finger curling into your sweet spot, quickening his pace. “a..another f-finger” you respond, trying to keep focus as he shifts his thumb to rub your clit with the same pace as his fingers. “You wan’ me to add another finger? You want me to fuck you with my figers before stuffing you with my cock?” He rests his forehead to yours, his breath colliding with yours and in almost kiss. “P-please! Please let me cum!” you almost scream, Rhett laughs lowly as he slides another finger into your quivering cunt. He keeps increasing his pace as you feel yourself getting closer to your climax. Your leg begins to shake a bit as you cling to him, pulling his hair, sinking your nails into his arm. “I can feel you baby, cum for me, scream for me,” he kisses you one last time before reaching a hand to pull your hair slightly, not going too hard in case you don’t like it, but you love it. Your moans grew louder as you feel yourself cumming around his fingers, your cries echoing through the clearing. His fingers continue, but slow down slightly to ride you through your high. You shove your face into his neck, kissing it as you feel his fingers slow to a stop.

You pull your head from his neck, looking him in the face. He stares into your eyes as he slides his fingers out from you, bringing them to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. He leans in to kiss you, you can taste yourself on him, his tongue. You bring your hang down, feeling him rock hard in his jeans. You help him undo his belt, pulling his cock out, feeling the precum on his tip. He moans at your touch, his grip on you tightens as you rub him. “I didn’t bring anything with me, this wasn’t my immediate plan,” he whispers to you, kissing you softly. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” you whisper back. “So am I,” he kisses you again, running his fingers through your hair.

He disconnects your lips, raising himself to hover above you as he pumps himself a few times. He rubs his tip through your fold one, twice, before sliding himself into your slowly, not wanting to hurt you. You moan as he enters you, adjusting to his size. Once he’s in, he leans back down to you, giving you a second to really adjust to him. He kisses your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as your moans mix together. After a minute or two, he begins to move. Slowly rocking in and out of you as you cling to him. He laid kisses down your neck, grunting into you. His hips slowly gaining pace, you moan as you tighten your hold on him. Your hands gripping his shoulders, moving your hips with his. He places his hands on each side of your head, moving one to up your face. “F-faster…please,” you plead softly as you look up at him. He quickens his pace slightly, “need me to go faster? If you want me to do that, you need to speak to me clearly sweetheart,” he says down to you. You can barely think, it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone, especially someone like Rhett. “Please go faster, Rhett. Please”

He lowers himself down to you, his lips touching yours, but not kissing you. Holding you close he says, “say my name, call it out. Let everyone know who has you, who is doing this to you?” He quickens his pace, a hand in your hair and a hand holding your leg to him. “R-rhett! Fuck, Rhett!” you scream, your voice echoing through the field. You grab at his hair, pulling it as he slams into you. You hold each other as you move together. You felt the knot tighten once more, your moans growing louder. His moans grew with yours. He can feel you near your orgasm, his hand going to rub your clit. “Rhett” you started to beg, “cum for me, baby. I can feel you, please cum for me,” he says. You became undone before him, screaming his name into the air, holding him close to you as you shake under his touch. He follows you shortly after, grunting and moaning into your neck. He slows his hips down to ride the both of you through your highs.

You look up to the dark sky, seeing the constellations and the stars that surrounded the two of you. You could only hear your breaths along with the noises of the wildlife around you. The two of you felt so close to each other and the earth, one with nature.

He looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “This isn’t how I planned this, y’know? I was gonna take you out to somewhere nice, do it in an actual bed and not a blanket in a field,” he said softly. You laugh lightly at him, the sweet plan he had for such an intimate time in your relationship. “I don’t know,” you said, “this is pretty nice. A clear night sky, a small chill in the air combatting with body heat. I’d take this over a nice dinner any day.” He laughs with you, kissing you softly as you laid in each other’s arms. You knew that you needed to get up so that he could take you home before you fall asleep here. But you can’t bring yourself to get out of his arms or tell him different. For now, you lay in your peaceful little world to yourselves. The two of you forever, as it should be

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#rhett abbot x reader #lewis pullman #rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbot smut #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 3 months

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You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?”

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

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#sfw repost #fic #leahsgalentinesdayspecial #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #outer range #lewis pullman #fluff #love confessions #kissing #language tw #drinking tw #drunk behavior tw

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wyn-n-tonic · 9 months

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Something In the Static

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Uhhhh... warning you now that I don't know what happened here. Gif is just a gif.

“You ever reckon I’m holding you back?”

No Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.

No kiss.

Not even a Hey, baby.

Just the sound of the door closing and the smell of a beer washed down by rain coming in before he does. Before those words come out of his mouth.

And you must really show your confusion because he repeats them; he repeats this question that is so beyond comprehension that he says it again. Three fucking times like it’s one for every year you’ve been back here.

Glasses off, you study him, sopping wet like a half drowned dog. “I'm going to ignore, Rhett Abbott, that you probably tracked cow shit through my goddamn living room seeing as you still have your boots on just so I can ask you if you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” But it is not a question, not really, and he knows that.

“Do you ever reck—“

“No, I fucking heard you.” It’s like he’s giving you one to grow on, to cover this upcoming year. “There's a book in your hands and he’s lucky he hasn’t caught it with his forehead. “Go take a shower, you smell like a distillery.”

“But—“

“No.” You’ve gone back to your book, curled up and into the pillow as he stalks away through to the attached bathroom in your periphery.

He gets like this sometimes. Not lately but sometimes. Like he’s got some preemptive grief he’s trying to work through and part of working through that is ensuring that it’ll be needed at all.

You don’t hear the water—stopping or starting—and you don’t hear when he comes back. For such a large man, he sure is light on his feet. It’s only when the mattress dips beneath his weight and the smell of soap and the coconut body wash you know he stole from you that you fully register his presence.

Rhett buries his face into your back and breathes deep, large, calloused hands sneaking beneath your shirt. His shirt. For a moment, you almost want to ask him if you can keep it when he succeeds in his agenda to push you away.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“You could fool me about that sometimes.”

Another sound, more words muffled by the fabric pulled between his teeth as he bites down and pushes himself closer.

“I thought you were over this shit, Rhett,” you say, staring down at the page that hasn’t turned since he came in. He was over this shit, these were never his words in the first place. These are the words of his brother; the words of the all the jackasses he’s never been able to escape. All these words picking at his deepest insecurities to give them life.

Some half-assed apology tumbles forward and his weight shifts until he’s pulling you over and around to face him and his bloodshot eyes. “Saw your mom today,” he says. “She said you might get promoted.”

“Might.”

“But you’d possibly have to travel a lot,” he says, “and that’s not something you’d have to do if you’d have just stayed in Chicago.”

“I didn’t want to stay in Chicago.”

Rhett’s eyes close and he takes a breath before saying, “I always have and I always will stand still. I-I’m stuck here and you came back for me.”

“I adore you, Rhett Abbott, so I’m going to give you the kindness of my cruelty which is where I hope yours is coming from, too,” you tell him, thumbing away one of the silent tears slipping from the corner of his eye. “It’s a little hypocritical to suggest I came back here for you while your own insecurity has you accusing me of resentment. I came back here for me and you were such a large part of that, Rhett, you were. I chose you and choosing you means choosing here and I don’t hate you for it.”

“But you should get to see the world, you’re not doing that here.”

“And I wouldn’t do that spending half my life locked in an office the size of a broom closet in some high rise in a big city just so I can pay rent and die alone either.”

There’s rawness in your voice as you practically scream it because you can’t do this again. You told him last time that it had to be the last time. You took his ring and made him promise that it would be.

“I'll be better for you,” he promises. He practically pleads. “I’ll do better for you.”

“But I don’t know what you mean by that,” you tell him. “Doing better for me is putting these thoughts out of your head and having the confidence in me that I am making decisions with my eyes open.”

“But I could be different for you,” he says. There’s no telling how much alcohol he’s had or how much is still pumping through his system. “I-I can—“

“I don’t want different, I want you. I live with you, I’m in love with you. If I wanted different, I would say something. If I wanted change, I would work with you to make it happen. I am fine where we are, I am happy.”

“But the promotion—“

“I don’t want it, Rhett,” you say. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want it, I told my mom because I needed to talk through all the ways I didn’t want it without you doing this shit to me again. Why don’t you understand that?”

He flattens himself out onto his back, both hands coming up to cover his face. He’s still naked from his shower, warm from the water and the beer and just the fact that he is. Always so warm, a comforting blanket and the only person you ever want.

Pushed up and on your knees, you stare down at him. “Rhett, I was really depressed when I wasn’t here.”

“What does that—“

“Doesn’t matter because I didn’t want you to see me like that, I didn’t want to be like that. You’re not some static creature firmly planted into the ground with petrified roots and you’re not a bear trap holding me in your jaws either.”

He relaxes. There’s always some point that he does when all the tension melts out of him and he’s no longer a board but your boy again. “I want you to stop drinking about this shit.”

He mumbles that he knows as he sits up, back pressed up against the headboard. “I think you want me to stop drinking altogether.”

Reaching out, you wipe another stray tear off of his cheek. “I’m in love with you but I didn’t come back for you and I’m not staying because of you.”

A beat passes and then he pushes his hair back while laughing. A pitiful ass fucking sound. “And to think I spent all day out in the pasture thinking about being between your legs. I didn’t even mean to go out fucking drinking, I just had to pick up feed, ran into your mama and ended up there.”

“Didn't answer your phone,” you add, “didn't apologize at all—“

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“Don't honey me, Rhett Abbott,” you tell him, “and you’re damn right you’ll be between my legs. You have a lot more apologizing to do than just that pitiful shit.”

Rhett twitches, his muscles flexing of their own accord beneath his smooth skin, and he groans. “You wanna do it right now?”

Your head shakes. "Maybe I would’ve if you’d come home on time,” you tell him, stretching out beside him. “These conversations take all my energy.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Do it again and I won’t even let you sleep in here.”

He laughs and it only makes him twitch again against his stomach.

“I'm serious, Rhett,” you tell him, glancing over the fact that you’re fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. “But I don’t like being mad at you, I don’t like being jealous and I know that you have a lot of jealousy and I don’t like that either.”

And even that makes him twitch.

“I like being here with you,” you go on, lips dragging across the skin of his rib; over the tattoo of your name he never told you he was getting. “And if I came back for anything, it was for this massive dick.”

Twitches. Again.

Which makes him cover himself, one massive hand cupping over his length. “Now you’re just teasing me, sweetheart.”

“You broke my heart when you walked your scrawny little ass in here and asked me if I hate you for making me stand still, so I think I’m entitled to it.”

“I just think about all the things you could be doing and all the things you have done, you know?” Rhett shifts his body back down the bed to lay flat beside you and turns until he’s facing you. “I'm just some dumb cowboy who can barely operate a toaster.”

“And it’s the best damn toast I’ve ever had.”

This conversation has gotten off the rails now and, truthfully, the hurt it caused to begin with has faded. All to leave two tired bodies next to one another, nose to nose with nothing but your own clothes between you.

“Touch yourself,” you tell him.

“I want to touch you,” he responds, followed by a promise that it doesn’t have to be much; that he just wants to hold your hand.

His eyes are just innocent enough to believe, pulling you in until his lips are on yours. Because that’s also how this works. He says something hurtful out of insecurity, betraying the insecurity he has in your relationship because he doesn’t believe he’s good enough. He takes his slap on the wrist, the talking down, and then he curls into and around you. Some sort of protection as if he needs the closeness of the night to convince him.

“Can I just be inside of you?” He finally asks, fingers creeping over the elastic waistband of your panties. “Please?”

“There it is,” you tease. “You know you can just ask to fall asleep inside of me, you don’t have to make me sad to do it.”

Guilt flashes across his face, so heavy with the day and the work and this on every feature, before he smiles. “Is that a yes?”

He doesn’t wait a second longer as soon as the word yes starts to form in your mouth, doing his best to pull the soft material down and off of you with the help of your twisting hips. Then he pushes inside, easy the way it always is for him.

As he settles, lips mouthing at your pulse point, he says, “will you tell me again? Just one more time?”

“I'm in love with you, Rhett Abbott,” you indulge him, “and if I have to be caught between somebody’s teeth, I’d rather it be yours than job’s or anybody else for that matter.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.”

“Clean the cow shit out of my rug and then I’ll accept the apology.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range fanfiction #goodbye

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ghxst-heart · 1 year

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ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ ─ ʀʜᴇᴛᴛ ᴀʙʙᴏᴛᴛ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rhett wasn’t a religious man; he hadn’t been for a long time. Still, he went to church with his family every Sunday and kept his eyes trained on the pulpit. His mother thought that he was finally taking in what Pastor Simon said to heart, but only one thing could have the youngest Abbott so entranced; the preacher’s daughter that dutifully sat in the front row, every Sunday. ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 18+, MINORS DNI, mentions of alcohol and hangovers, swearing, use of gendered pet names (pretty girl, angel, darling), descriptions of sexual acts in a church, brief description of male masturbation, semi-public sex, slight size kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (p in v; wrap it before you tap it), creampie, if I missed anything, please let me know, this is my first time posting smut haha ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪɴғᴏ: Pronouns used are She/Her/Hers, AFAB!Reader, beginnings of a FWB relationship between Rhett and Reader. ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: Fem!Reader, Romantic!Reader X Rhett Abbott ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ: MINORS DNI!! My blog is strictly 18+!! Any minors or ageless/blank blogs interacting with my fics or my blog will be blocked (and, yes, I do check). I can't stop you from reading my fics, but I can stop you from accessing my fics if my boundaries aren't respected. Your media consumption is your own responsibility, just as it is mine regarding what I post. Please tread thoughtfully and carefully, and keep yourselves happy, healthy, and safe.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The air in the sanctuary was thick as Pastor Simon droned through his sermon, pacing the length of the pulpit with his bible clutched tightly in his old hands. His voice boomed through the small space, echoing off the wood-paneled walls and resounding in Rhett’s ears as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head. His Stetson hung low over his forehead, trying to shield his sensitive blue eyes from the blinding morning light seeping through the windows. His hangovers were never this intense; either he had drunk too much the previous night, or Pastor Simon’s voice was so boring that it was causing him physical pain.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett felt a harsh pinch on his thigh, and he flinched, ready to snap at whoever bothered him, but he quickly realized that it was his mother silently reminding him to stay awake. His mouth fell into a sarcastic sneer before he recovered and offered his mother a firm nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile to appease her. Cecilia frowned, and he fought against a whiney comment, instead opting for a quiet grumble as he sat up straight in his chair. He gave her a pointed look and removed his Stetson from his head, and she hummed in approval, pleased that he had taken her silent direction.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett hadn’t thought that his silent squabble had earned anyone’s attention, but he knew he had been caught when his eyes met the pastor’s daughter’s gaze across the room. (Y/N) had turned her head over her shoulder, a small, amused smile on her face as she watched Cecilia scold Rhett as if he were five years old again. Rhett readjusted in his seat, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he felt the tips of his ears begin to burn with embarrassment under her stare. (Y/N)’s head tilted slightly as if she were asking him a question, but before he could think of an answer to a question he didn’t know, she returned her attention to the pulpit, nodding along with her father’s sermon.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The young Abbott man kept his eyes on (Y/N) as she gathered her hair in her hands and let the strands settle over one shoulder, exposing her neck to his eyes. Her fingertips grazed her skin, nails lightly scratching the base of her throat before she dropped her hand to her lap again. Her chin tilted up, extending her neck and stretching her muscles before she relaxed, dropping her chin so she could read the bible resting over her knees.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The way that Rhett and (Y/N) were seated gave them direct views of one another, and Rhett could see most of her body. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, relaxed against the seat of her chair. Her skirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her thighs. She mindlessly toyed with the hem, pulling it higher and higher up her leg. Rhett thickly swallowed, letting his mind swim with sinful thoughts of marking up her legs, littering them with pretty purple bruises and love bites. He thought of kneading the soft flesh with his calloused hands, relishing in the goosebumps he would leave behind, and how the plush fat would feel wrapped around his head, muffling his hearing so he’d only just barely hear the beautiful noises he would draw out of her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett was thrown from his thoughts when (Y/N) suddenly readjusted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and swiveling her body, so she was sitting sideways on the chair. He panicked, body flushing with embarrassment as his eyes flashed up to her face, finding that she was already staring at him. He had been caught staring at her legs, his mind running rampant with fantasies. (Y/N) grinned, her teeth chewing on her lip as she let her eyes wander over Rhett’s body before she looked at the pulpit once more, pretending as if she hadn’t exposed Rhett’s shamelessness in checking her out.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) had always been an interesting woman. She was the epitome of a pastor’s daughter. She attended church every Sunday, helped out in the daycare on weekdays, was active in the Women’s Group, and helped plan fundraising events for families in the congregation that needed extra funds. She never did anything wrong, anything sinful, and always said the nicest things with a bright smile on her face. She wore conservative clothes, nothing too tight or revealing, and her face was always cleared of heavy makeup, giving her such an innocent look with lightly coated lashes, soft rosy cheeks, and glossy lips. But Rhett had always thought there was something more just underneath the surface.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎They had grown up together, going through elementary to high school in the same classes. While Rhett grew rebellious and ambitious to achieve fame as a bull rider, (Y/N) remained the sweet, innocent girl that was content to live her life in Wabang as the pastor’s daughter. By graduation, they were nothing more than strangers to one another, their reputations landing them on different ends of Wabang High’s social stratosphere. But that didn’t stop Rhett from watching her as she led the congregation in song or served food at the church’s monthly luncheon, blushing when she’d catch his eye or muttering an excuse to leave before his stomach would lurch with a delicious, yet sometimes overwhelming, fluttery feeling.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett was too young and stupid to realize what his longing looks and flustered words around her meant. He was too naive to understand that his nerves and the funny feeling in his stomach meant more than just a childhood crush. For years, the youngest Abbott oftentimes tried to convince himself that he was just imagining the lingering stares or the suggestive brushing of her fingertips against him when she passed him. He tried to brush it off as his darkest fantasies trying to turn polite glances and innocent touches into something more, his mind playing cruel tricks on him in place of his lonesome nights.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎But, that was before they grew up. Now, after being in the world and experiencing real attraction, real lust, he was convinced that it was something more. He was convinced that (Y/N) knew what she was doing and that she was purposeful in how she looked at him or placed her hand over his when handing him his food at the luncheons. He was certain now that he wasn’t imagining things when she smirked and turned away, continuing to innocently play with her skirt and show Rhett more and more of her skin after she’d caught him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The idea went straight to his dick, and he was suddenly readjusting in his seat, sitting up straight and tightening his arms across his chest as he willed his mind to think of anything else. He’d never hear the end of it if his brother had caught him with a hard-on during the middle of Pastor Simon’s retelling of the story of Esther. Even with his hopes of being inconspicuous, Perry glanced over and silently chuckled, shaking his head as he grinned before returning his eyes to the front of the sanctuary. Rhett felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, and he quietly cleared his throat as he tried his hardest to focus on Pastor Simon’s sermon.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett could feel (Y/N)’s eyes on him, flickering toward him every few minutes to check if he was still watching her. He was trying his hardest not to, but knowing that she wanted him to be looking at her made it difficult to think of anything else. It was made even worse when she stood up, her hands smoothing down her sweater and skirt as she made her way to take her father’s place on the small stage, smiling warmly at the congregation in front of her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett watched as (Y/N) cleared her throat, positioning herself behind the altar and opening her bible as she prepared to read the excerpt from the book of Corinthians, transitioning the service from her father’s sermon to communion. Before she began, (Y/N) let her eyes scan the small crowd, searching for her volunteer to help her with communion.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett thought back to high school, to when she’d silently cycle through the children and teens around her, but she’d always fall back on Rhett to help. Back then, he was convinced that she was just trying to get him to participate, trying to lead him to the Lord by the small first step of offering communion. A part of him hoped that she’d ask him to help just so he could feel the brush of her fingertips as she handed him the chalice filled with grape juice, or the press of her shoulder against his bicep as they stood side by side and let the congregation come to them to eat their bread and drink their “wine.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ��‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Like she had been all morning, (Y/N) surprised him by calling his niece to the pulpit. “Amy, honey, can you come up ‘ere and help me with communion?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett’s niece jumped up from her spot at the end of the row his family sat in, bouncing with giddiness as she walked up the aisle to assist (Y/N). She smiled brightly as she took her spot beside (Y/N), her hands folded neatly behind her back as (Y/N) pointed out the verse she wanted Amy to read, as if she didn’t already know it by heart. Even Rhett had it memorized, but that was because he used to be the Abbott standing behind the altar every week.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The young Abbott man tried to pay attention to his niece so he could tell her how well she did later on after the service. He tried to watch his niece carefully break the bread, offering it to (Y/N) so she could take communion before repeating the young woman’s actions. However, all he could think of was the way (Y/N)’s delicate hands would feel tracing indistinct patterns over his body, her glossed lips following closely behind her hands’ trails.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) turned to the congregation once more, motioning with her hands as she called them up to take communion. The Abbott family sat patiently, waiting until the row ahead of them had moved into the aisle to stand. Rhett slowly stood and placed his Stetsen on his chair, trying his hardest to hide his growing problem in his jeans without drawing attention to himself. He was successful for the most part, but he could feel (Y/N)’s eyes on him as he moved to stand in the aisle. Their eyes met, and he watched as her eyes subtly flickered toward his hips and her teeth caught her bottom lip, suppressing a grin as she blessed a congregation member while they dipped their bread in the grape juice. Rhett felt his heart hammer in his chest, his body tingling with nerves as the knowledge that she knew the effect she had on him settled in his mind.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Before he knew it, Rhett was standing before (Y/N) in front of the altar. His hands shook slightly as he tore a piece of bread from the plate Amy held before he turned to (Y/N). He slowly met her eyes, his chest feeling tight as he raised his hand to dip his bread into the grape juice. He had always thought that her eyes were pretty; they gleamed with purity and a hint of mischief that he only ever saw when he was in such close proximity to her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett was so focused on her eyes that he didn’t realize that he was practically soaking the piece of bread in the grape juice until it became heavy between his fingertips. He fought against his first instinct to curse (Cecelia had always scolded him for cursing in the Lord’s Home) and quickly pulled it toward his lips, his free hand cupping under his chin to catch any drops, but that didn’t stop a few dribbles of juice from landing on his bottom lip. Before he could react, (Y/N) had reached up and wiped away the juice with her thumb, and Rhett would have been embarrassed by the doting action if she hadn’t brought the digit to her mouth and licked the grape juice off her skin, her lips wrapping around her thumb and her cheeks hollowing just enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but Rhett caught it.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The young Abbott man’s mouth suddenly felt dryer than a desert, and his brain began to short-circuit. (Y/N) silently giggled and blessed him, ultimately sending him on his way back to his seat with her teeth running over her bottom lip teasingly. Rhett awkwardly cleared his throat and turned around, stiffly walking back down the aisle with his head bowed bashfully. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, unable to look at anyone in fear that they would notice the growing bulge in his jeans.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett spent the rest of the service with his jaw locked and eyes fixed in a frustrated stare on (Y/N). His mind was racing with images of her mouth around his fingers, her tongue trailing along his digits as she sucked on them. It wasn’t helping his hard-on, not in the slightest, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that was exactly what she wanted. The congregation finally began to sing the closing song, and Rhett was the first one out the sanctuary doors once Pastor Simon sent them off with a blessing, making a beeline to the restrooms.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The moment the bathroom door was shut, he was unbuckling his jeans and pulling out his dick with a groan, back collapsed against the wall, and his hand furiously working to relieve his pent-up frustration. It wasn’t hard to get himself over the edge after nearly an hour of teasing, but a part of him still felt like an inexperienced teenager getting himself off for the first time. He came with a muffled grunt, his free hand bunched into a tight fist between his teeth. Rhett slumped against the wall, his head leaned back as his chest heaved, the poor Abbott man struggling to catch his breath.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Shit,” Rhett cursed, pushing off the wall and reaching out to grab paper towels to clean himself up. After he tucked himself back into his jeans and washed his hands, he took a moment to clear his head, his hands braced on the sink basin as his head hung low. He slowly looked up and met his eyes in the mirror, a flash of shame washing over him, but it was quickly replaced with panic when he heard (Y/N)'s voice.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Oh, I think I saw him head to the restroom, Mrs. Abbott. He looked a little pale, though. I hope he’s not gettin’ sick.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Her voice was soft and sweet, like the taste of Cecelia’s sweet iced tea on a hot summer day. Rhett thickly swallowed, his eyes locked on the door as he tried to remember whether he locked it or not. A quick glance at the handle told him that, no, he hadn’t; he had been too focused on (Y/N), her legs, her lips, her tongue. Rhett quietly groaned, his head falling back on his shoulders as his hands ran down his face. Thank God no one walked in before he was finished.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎He knew his mother wouldn’t divulge to the pastor’s daughter that he was probably hungover, and he had never been so thankful for his mother’s need to keep appearances around the congregation before. He just hoped that that was all she assumed was wrong with him. He was proven right when he heard his mother respond to the sweet girl that has been subtly teasing her son for the better part of an hour.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Thank you, dear. Let ‘im know we’re gon’ be out in the parkin’ lot when he comes out, will ya?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett let out a relieved breath as his head fell once more, before he shook his hair from his eyes and pushed himself up from the sink. He looked over his reflection, letting out a long breath through his nose as he willed the flush of color to disappear from his cheeks and neck. He took a few minutes to ensure that all the churchgoers had filed out of the church before forcing himself to exit the bathroom. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans before tucking them into his pockets, pushing his way out the front doors to join his family when he was met with the harsh late-morning sunlight and dry Wyoming heat.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Goddamn, it’s bright out here,” Rhett mumbled when he reached his family. They were hanging around the bed of his and Royal’s trucks, his father entertaining Amy’s constant questions about Pastor Simon’s sermon while Perry and Rebecca were lost in each other, still just as in love with each other as the day they met. Cecelia, however, stood with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face as she watched her youngest make his way to them.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Cecelia was quiet as she scolded Rhett, making sure that the rest of their family was preoccupied before she began to lay into him. “Now, I’m happy that you’re comin’ t’church with us again, but you can’t bust outta there like a bull the moment the service is over, Rhett. It’s rude; not only to Pastor Simon, but to God, too.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett grumbled, his light eyes squinting and pulling his face into a slight scowl as he looked at his mother, “I know. ‘M sorry, Ma. Won’t happen again.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Damn right, it won’t.” Cecelia affirmed, firmly nodding her head as she turned her attention to the rest of the Abbott family. “Alright, everyone in the trucks. I‘m sure we wasted ‘nough time gettin’ to the diner. Only table open’ll be right near the kitchen. Let’s go.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Shotgun!” Amy quickly shouted, leaping down from the tailgate and running around to the front of Rhett’s truck. She anxiously yanked on the handle as Rhett pulled his keys from his pocket. She began to whine, her head lolling on her shoulders as she began to pester her uncle, “Uncle Rhett! Open the door!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett chuckled, shaking his head as he fumbled with the keys. He reached up to adjust his hat, but his hand was met with his slightly greasy hair instead of his worn Stetson. “Dammit. Amy, go ahead an’ hop in with grandma and grandpa, I left my hat inside.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“But I wanna ride with you!” Amy sadly said, dragging out the last syllable in an attempt to get Rhett to forget his hat and drive her to the diner.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I know ya do, sweetcheeks. But Uncle Rhett ain’t Uncle Rhett without his hat, is he?” Rhett hummed and stepped up to his niece, placing his large hands on her small face and pinching her cheeks in an attempt to get her to smile. When he got a sheepish giggle from her, he grinned and stood up straight, softly pushing her in the direction of his mother. “Go on to the diner, I’ll catch up in a few. Forgot my hat inside.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Cecelia narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t push the issue any further. “Alright. Amy, hon, c’mon now.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett began to walk back to the church, suddenly realizing how empty the parking lot was. After his father pulled out of the lot, only his truck and (Y/N)'s old Dodge were left, three spots separating them. Even Pastor Simon and his wife had left. A rush of anxiety ran down his spine, but there was a spot of confidence growing with the idea that he and (Y/N) would be alone in the church. He couldn’t act on her taunting with the entire congregation surrounding them, but maybe now he could. Even if he can’t do anything physically, the least they could do would be to talk about it, set some boundaries if they were to really begin what they both wanted.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The church door quietly slammed shut behind him, effectively closing him and (Y/N) off from the rest of the town. Rhett couldn’t remember the last time they had truly been alone together. Maybe that time in high school when she had to tutor him in English? Thinking back on it, Rhett realized that she had been playing this game with him since way back then; her foot would knock against his leg under the table, slowly dragging up his calf until she reached the top of his boot before she retreated, offering him a sly glance and reciting the question she had asked him when he gave her an awestruck look. A quiet scoff fell from Rhett’s lips; he had been so oblivious for so long.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Not headed to the diner yet, Rhett?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett’s head snapped up from the old carpeting in the lobby, finding the angelic vision that was (Y/N). She stood outside her father’s office, holding a handful of bibles in her arms that pressed against her chest and made her breasts push just that much further out of the low neckline of her sweater. Rhett thickly swallowed, forcing his eyes to find hers, but that didn’t help much, either. Her eyes were wide, almost doe-like, as if she had been asking him about something as mundane as the weather.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“No, ma’am.” Rhett shyly said, the tips of his ears tinted pink when he saw the small smile on (Y/N)’s face when he called her ‘ma’am.’ He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I, uh, I forgot my hat; thought I left it in the sanctuary.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) hummed, her eyes quickly scanning the small lobby before landing on the open sanctuary doors. Sure enough, Rhett’s Stetson sat on the seat he claimed every Sunday. (Y/N) quietly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she slyly glanced toward Rhett. “An’ here I thought ya just wanted an excuse to come an’ talk t’me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Her tone was low and suggestive, sending blood straight to his dick as she ran her tongue over her lip before sinking her teeth into it and tilting her head in the most innocent way.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Do I need an excuse to come an’ talk t’ya?” Rhett rasped, his voice sounding gravelly as it caught in his throat. However, even with the nerves slowly working their way down his spine, he managed to notice the way that (Y/N) shifted her weight, moving one foot closer to the other as her knees knocked together, almost as if she were trying to subtly relieve tension. All of his nerves disappeared, and Rhett was filled with a sense of confidence that inflated his ego just enough for him to know that he had the same effect on her that she did him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) hummed, shaking her head as Rhett watched her teeth nibble the inside of her cheek as if she were hiding a sly grin. She pointed a finger over her shoulder toward the sanctuary doors across the hall, “Your hat’s in the sanctuary if ya wanted to grab it. Though, I’m not sure I want ya to have it back; I’ve been looking for a new Stetson to wear to the rodeos.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett knew this was his chance to get (Y/N) alone in a room that had a lock on the door. And, if he was reading her signs correctly, that was what she wanted, too. So, mustering up as much confidence as he could, he tried to sound as inconspicuously seductive as possible as he stepped closer to her and asked, “If ya wanted t’wear my hat to my rides, all ya had to do was ask, angel.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I suppose this is me askin’, then.” It was as if all his prayers had been answered when he saw her pupils dilate and her breath catch in her throat as she nodded once more. This time, after a short, collective breath, she let that troublemaking smirk settle on her glossed lips as she held a hand out for him to take, “Want me to model it for ya, then? Make sure it looks alright?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“So long as you know what happens when you wear a cowboy’s hat, darlin’.” Rhett smoothly said. He surprised himself with his response, but he didn’t let himself show it. (Y/N) grinned, a quiet giggle slipping past her lips as she wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand, urging him to take it.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I do,” she easily said, and that was all it took. Rhett slipped his calloused hand into hers, and his first thought was how small her hand was compared to his. When she threaded her fingers into the spaces between his, the contrast of his rough fingertips against the soft skin of her hand immediately replaced that thought, and it was quickly followed by the idea of how her small, soft hands would feel wrapped around his cock. His jeans tightened around his hips as she led him to the sanctuary, his body beginning to buzz with adrenaline as the realization that this was finally happening settled in his mind. He felt like he was about to perform in a rodeo, that familiar twinge of nerves and self-assurance making his heartbeat echo in his ears.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The sanctuary doors were hardly shut before Rhett had his lips on (Y/N)'s and his hands on her hips, pushing her against the doors with a deep groan. The bibles in her hands tumbled to the floor as her small hands wove into his hair, pulling him closer to her with every passing second. Her lips were soft and warm, yet sticky from her lip gloss. She tasted like strawberries and remnants of the grape juice from communion, an intoxicating combination that Rhett couldn’t get enough of. Rhett groaned into her mouth, a smirk toying on the corners of his lips when she roughly pulled on his hair. It stung, but the feel of her mouth on his and her back arching against his body made the sensation feel deliciously blissful.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎It was as if his hands had a mind of their own, wandering across any part of her body he could touch. They splayed across her back, tugging her closer before they slid around her waist and began to inch upwards under her sweater, itching to feel the weight of her breasts in his palms. His fingertips traced the underwire of her bra, the satin fabric cool to the touch and a stark contrast from her quickly warming skin. Rhett could feel that wherever he touched her, a trail of goosebumps followed his hands and her body flooded with warmth. It was mesmerizing, fueling his need to touch every part of her as he kissed her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett began to nibble on her bottom lip and (Y/N) opened her mouth to him, exhaling deeply through her nose, almost as if she were trying to keep quiet, but her efforts were hardly concealed when a quiet whine floated past her lips as his tongue grazed hers. He breathlessly chuckled, pulling away slightly and tightening his grip on her waist as he said, “C’mon, angel. Don’t hide those sounds from me. Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎His words pulled a breathy moan from her lips, telling Rhett exactly what effect he had on her before she had the chance to vocally do so. Rhett began to trail wet kisses across her jaw, gently nipping at the skin just below the bone before he soothed it with a slow swipe of his tongue, making sure not to leave any marks. (Y/N) sighed, her head falling back against the sanctuary doors as her hands began to explore the expanse of his clothed chest, fingernails catching on the fabric of his flannel, “I knew you were lookin’ at me this mornin’. Knew you wanted me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’ve been wantin’ t’have you like this since high school, darlin’.” Rhett admitted, his voice breathless against her skin. The taste of her strawberry lip gloss was beginning to get lost with the salty taste of perspiration on her skin as the dry Wyoming air clung to their bodies, warming them up in the stuffy sanctuary. Rhett mouthed his way back up to her lips, the tip of his nose nudging hers as he cheekily said, “Think you have, too, hmm?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)'s pretty eyes fluttered open slightly, pupils blown and mascara beginning to dot along the skin under her lash line. She gave him a grin, her chin jutting out so her lips brushed against his with every word she spoke. “Y’have no idea, Rhett. No idea.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett wasn’t sure who moved first, the feeling of her tongue moving against his as their mouths worked on one another drowning out anything else in his head. He slotted his thigh between her legs, a deep groan rumbling in the back of his throat when he felt her arousal begin to seep into the denim of his jeans. His calloused hands wandered further down her body, along the smooth skin of her legs that hadn’t left his mind since he’d caught a glimpse earlier that morning, before they slipped under the hem of her skirt and bunched it around her waist so he could easily guide her hips along his thigh.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) pulled her lips from his with a whine, grinding her hips down onto him as her nimble fingers began to make quick work of the buttons on his flannel, expertly unbuttoning it before untucking it from his jeans and pushing it aside so her hands could feel the smooth muscles of his chest. Rhett had never been so glad to forgo an undershirt in his life; if he had to wait to have her hands on his skin any longer, he would have combusted. He could feel his cock hardening in his jeans again when her hands traveled lower, her fingertips brushing along the flexing muscles of his stomach as her lips attached to his peck, right over his bull rider tattoo. He sucked in a sharp breath when her teeth dragged up his neck and grazed his pulse point before dragging down to the base of his throat just above his clavicle.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Fuck,” Rhett cursed, leaning his head to the side to give her more access to his throat. She giggled against his skin, her nails raking down his torso again as she sank her teeth into his skin before soothing the mark with her warm tongue. Rhett bit his lip as he shakily exhaled, pulling his body back as one hand trailed up her body to cup her jaw, holding her face in place so he could kiss her again. Everything about her was addictive, from the taste of her lip gloss to the way her wet, clothed cunt dragged along his jeans. Rhett was sure that he had died and gone to Heaven when her fingers hooked into his belt loops and pulled his hips flush against hers, her mouth against his muffling the grunt forcing itself from his lips when his dick pressed against her hip bone.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Rhett,” (Y/N) panted, their hot breaths mingling in the sparse distance between their mouths, “I need you.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Where d’you need me, pretty girl?” Rhett whispered, thickly swallowing as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingertips began to gently play with the band of her panties, the satin fabric smooth against his rough hands slightly as he toyed with her. He let an accomplished smile tug at his lips when she bucked her hips toward him, chasing the brief feeling of his hands when he pulled away. Rhett traced a soft line down the front of her core, relishing in the choked hum of approval that left her lips. “Do you need me here? Hmm?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Yes,” (Y/N) sighed, hands bunching into the fabric of his open flannel to keep his body on hers. She licked her lips and swallowed, a relieved smile covering her lips, “Yes, please.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett chuckled, a low rumbling sound in the back of his throat, but it was cut off with a proud groan when he felt just how soaked she was. She was practically dripping, and he was the cause of it. He hooked a finger around the satin, pushing it to the side to swipe his fingers through her folds, collecting her arousal and spreading it across his fingertips.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Oh, shit,” (Y/N) gasped, her forehead falling forward on his shoulder as she braced her hands on his torso. She hummed as Rhett gently circled her clit, biting her lips as her body jolted with pleasure.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Angel, I’ve barely touched you,” Rhett teased, but his voice was the furthest thing from jovial. His voice was deep, laced with lust and barely above a whisper. A part of him was hardly able to believe that this was happening, but when he felt her body shudder against his as he pressed two fingers against her clit, he knew that this was real. He didn’t just feel like his prayers had been answered; he knew they had been.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) shakily exhaled, pulling her head back and snaking her hands up his torso to grab onto the curls of hair at the nape of his neck. Her eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten as she leveled her doe-like eyes with his. She was completely at his mercy. “More, please. I need more of you.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Without warning, Rhett dipped his fingers to her entrance and slowly pushed his ring and middle fingers in, cursing when he felt her warm walls instinctively clench around his digits. (Y/N) moaned, her body falling lax against the doors as her hands scrambled to find purchase in his hair. Rhett began to pump his fingers, his free hand holding up his weight against the door by her head. He kept reaching for that special spot inside of her, curling his fingers to find the spot that would make her legs shake and her chest heave with labored breaths. He knew he’d found it when he felt that spongy part against his calloused fingertips, and she surged forward and attached her lips to his, whimpering when he picked up the pace of his fingers. Her mouth opened in a silent moan, and Rhett took advantage of her parted lips to lick into her mouth, swallowing every small whine and whimper that left her sweet lips.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Goddamn, you look so pretty, all needy f’me,” Rhett grunted, feeling her wetness begin to drip down his knuckles into the palm of his hand. His dick twitched in his jeans, desperately aching for attention, but he was easily able to put aside his needs when he heard the melodic sound of her breath catching in her throat as a strangled moan at his praise. He cupped his hand around her, pushing the heel of his palm against her clit as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. Her hips began to grind against his hand, chasing her high with determined circles.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Oh, fuck, Rhett, please,” (Y/N) began to ramble, her chest heaving as he pushed her closer to the edge. She tightened her hold on his hair, pulling his face closer as she looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, silently pleading with him. “Don’t stop, please. I’m so, so close. Please, Rhett.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A dark chuckle left his throat as he ducked his head and placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin just below her ear. He smirked at the high-pitched noise she made when he began scissoring his fingers inside her, teeth pulling at her earlobe before he whispered, “Let go, angel. Give it t’me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) came with a shrill cry, her body collapsing against his as she weakly clung to him. Rhett moaned when he felt her legs attempt to snap shut around his thigh and hand, her cum slowly seeping from her cunt and making a mess all over his fingers and jeans. His cock pushed against the constraints of his jeans when he looked down to see his hand glistening with her arousal, and his chest swelled when he thought of the fact that he made her cum with nothing but his fingers. He continued to slowly pump his fingers in and out of her, carrying her through her orgasm until her body stopped shaking.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)'s hands bunched into the fabric of his open flannel, grounding herself until she found her bearings again. Rhett gently pulled his hand away from her, holding it up to watch her slick shine in the dim sunlight filtering through the sanctuary windows. He was suddenly filled with the need to taste her, so he brought his fingers to his lips and began to lick his fingers. He moaned, swearing that he had never tasted anything so sweet in his life. She tasted better than any freshly baked apple pie or hand-churned ice cream he’d ever had.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“So sweet, angel,” Rhett hummed, savoring the taste of her with his eyes half-closed before they widened. (Y/N) had taken a hold of his wrist, pulling his hand from his lips to hers and slowly sucked his fingers into her mouth, a purring sound leaving her throat as her tongue swirled around his digits. Rhett’s jaw slacked, his eyes darkening as he watched her clean her mess off his fingers. He reached his other hand down to palm himself over his jeans, shaking his head in amazement when she pulled her mouth off his fingers with a faint pop. “Jesus Christ, darlin’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) giggled, still sounding breathless as she began to push him toward the back row of chairs in the sanctuary, her hands firm on his shoulders. She directed him to a chair and gently sat him down, kneeling in front of him and running her hands slowly up his thighs. “My turn, cowboy.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett could hardly breathe as her dainty hands trailed up his thighs toward his belt buckle, his hands flexing and unflexing around the edge of the chair, unsure what to do with them. (Y/N) hummed, taking one hand off his leg to take hold of his, silently directing him to hold her jaw before she resumed her quest of unbuckling that large buckle around his hips. Rhett had been hard as a rock nearly the whole morning, but he felt as if he was growing harder as he watched the sight in front of him, his dick throbbing beneath the feather-light pressure of her forearm over it as she slid the leather belt out of the clasp.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Fuck,” Rhett hissed, watching with lust-blown eyes as she unzipped his jeans, her movements so painfully slow just to tease him. Although he complied and lifted his hips when she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxers, he couldn’t stop the flash of annoyance that rippled through his body as he watched her take her sweet time. The young Abbott man let his hand slide from her jaw to her chin, holding it firmly between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled her gaze to his eyes. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his cheek fluttering with aroused frustration as he sharply said, “I didn’t tease you, now did I?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) bit her lip, shaking her head before laying it on the top of his thigh, just out of reach from where he wanted her to touch him the most. She lazily traced a finger up and down the outline of his cock tenting his boxers, which was pulsing now that the tight denim had been removed. His hips involuntarily bucked up, his body betraying the slight dominating bite in his tone, which only brought a sly grin to (Y/N)'s face.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“No, but if I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this for as long as I have, I’m gonna enjoy every second of it.” (Y/N) sassed, her brows raising slightly as she challenged him. All the while, her finger kept running that same trail up his clothed cock. Her eyes never left the path of her finger, simply enamored with the idea of what Rhett hid underneath those Levi jeans. Rhett gulped, struggling to regain some control over the situation as she began to apply more pressure to her ministrations, soon letting her wrist go limp so she could use her palm to trace his cock instead of a single finger.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if ya picked up the pace, angel,” Rhett said, his voice sounding as if it was stuck in his throat. He watched as she licked her lips, her eyes growing wider as she met his gaze. If he felt breathless before, that was nothing compared to the vision of (Y/N) kneeling between his legs with her palm moving agonizingly slow across his dick. She looked ethereal, a slight halo of dim lighting surrounding her from the dust-covered windows behind her. She looked as if she belonged there, sat dutifully before him with her doe-eyes and kiss-swollen lip tucked between her teeth.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Y’know, patience is a virtue, Mr. Abbott.” (Y/N) airily said, her cheeks proudly flushing when Rhett’s chest stopped moving. Rhett wasn’t sure where the reaction came from; he’d never imagined that being scolded and called ‘Mr. Abbott’ would send his body into a frenzy, sparking a need deep within his soul to shove his dick down her throat. He needed her to wrap her perfectly pouted lips around his cock, and he needed her to do it now.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett tightened his grip on her chin, pulling her face off his thigh before bunching his other hand in her hair to pull her face closer to his as he sat up. His face hardened as he looked her over, eyes narrowing as his voice deepened, a dominating side overtaking any faint nerves he might have still had. “Y’better put that mouth to use before I do it for you.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A grin spread across (Y/N)'s face and she leaned up to press a searing kiss to his lips. It was all tongue and teeth, but Rhett hardly had time to register that he could still gather the faint taste of her cum on her lips before she suddenly reached a hand into his boxers and wrapped her small hand around him. An almost animalistic growl left his lips as his jaw slacked, his breath shaky when she gently swiped her thumb over his tip and collected the precum leaking from the slit. Rhett had never been overly vocal, but he couldn’t help the way he moaned when (Y/N) pulled away from his lips and placed a delicate kiss to his tip over his boxers. It was just a taste of what was to come, and he was already beginning to fall apart.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) let that soft giggle of hers trickle from her lips, thoroughly amused by the young Abbott man’s reaction, before she swiftly pulled his boxers down enough to free his cock, letting it fall against his toned stomach. Rhett opened his mouth to tell her to use hers, but a strangled groan replaced any words he was about to say when she leaned forward and licked a slow, hot stripe up his shaft, her eyes never leaving his.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett’s back collapsed against the chair, a shudder washing over his body when she finally wrapped her lips around his tip, her tongue teasing his slit and a hum of appreciation sounding from the back of her throat. Rhett’s hold in her hair tightened, the veins in his forearm beginning to protrude slightly as he let his body take over, bucking his hips and pushing himself further into her warm mouth.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“There ya go, darlin’.” Rhett mumbled, his head falling back as a deep breath left his lips. (Y/N) slowly dipped her head, taking more of him in her mouth as she hummed, the vibrations in her throat adding to Rhett’s pleasure. Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly pumping what she couldn’t fit into her mouth as she began to bob her head. The combination of her warm mouth and the sounds of appreciation she was quietly making was enough to make Rhett’s head spin. He swore he had never felt anything so good in his life, finally having the girl he’s pined after for years with her lips around his dick and her lust-blown eyes glancing up at him through her lashes.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)'s free hand was gently running across his hip, her nails scratching his skin so lightly that Rhett hardly realized what she was doing until he let go of her jaw to take her hand in his. He sighed, eyes rolling back when she let go of his cock and pushed her head down further until the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat. A deep rumble of a groan left his lips and his fingers laced through hers, squeezing her hand tightly in appreciation.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Rhett breathed, tucking his chin to his chest so he could watch her continue to take him deeper and deeper until her nose nearly brushed the patch of hair at the base of his cock. It truly was a sight to behold; the beautiful preacher’s daughter deepthroating the wild bull rider known for sleeping around. Rhett knew he’d never be able to forget the image of (Y/N) between his legs, and the realization that he’d have this memory to look back on the next time he was feeling lonely made his cock twitch in her mouth. (Y/N) let out a long breath before attempting to take him further, and the feeling of her nose finally reaching his pubic bone had Rhett bucking his hips before he could stop himself.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) gagged around him, and that didn’t help the way the coil in Rhett’s stomach tightened with the need to feel her do that again, and keep her mouth stuffed full of him. He let go of her hand and let it join his other hand in her hair, but before he could force her to cockwarm him with her throat, he was somehow able to have the thought that she might not want to. And Rhett was a gentleman, even with lust clouding his senses. If he wanted to ensure that this wasn’t a one-time deal, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“This okay, angel?” Rhett rasped, his voice gravelly and somewhat hoarse. (Y/N) looked up at him, her lashes clumped together slightly and wet with unshed tears, her mascara beginning to trail down the apples of her cheeks, but that couldn’t do anything to hide the earnest look in her eyes. She pulled off of his cock with a gasp, her head nodding eagerly as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“More than okay.” (Y/N) breathlessly said, already leaning down to take him in her mouth again. Rhett moaned when she sunk down around him without hesitation, a deep exhale through her nose tickling his pubic hair as she hummed around him again. Her hands rested on his hips, fingers flexing as she focused on her breathing. Rhett was utterly entranced as he watched her, so eager to please him and bring him his release right there in the church sanctuary. His stomach began to churn, his breathing becoming uneven and ragged as he shakily exhaled. She slowly pulled her mouth up his shaft, tongue swirling around his tip before dipping down once more, not stopping until she was completely full of him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett could feel his orgasm was fast approaching as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting and tightening around him before she pulled up and suckled his tip, her tongue running along the slit as she lazily pumped him with one hand so she could catch her breath. The coil in Rhett’s stomach began to subside, but that allowed his head to clear enough to realize that if he was going to cum, it wasn’t going to be in her mouth. That was going to be an image he could capture at another time, but right now, all he wanted was to have the picture of her riding him wearing his Stetson ingrained in his mind.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett heaved a long breath, his chest deflating slightly as he slid a hand around her chin again. With a mumbled, ‘Come ‘ere, angel,’ he brought her lips to his, kissing her sweetly before he found that dominating side from moments ago. “You gon’ model that hat f’me or what, honey?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)'s eyes lit up as she giggled, nodding her head and reaching over to grab his Stetson from the seat beside him. She kept her eyes on his as she situated it on her head, adjusting it so it hung low over her eyes the way he had it that morning. Her head tilted back, gaze meeting his through hooded eyes as she teasingly turned her face from side to side to show it off.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What d’ya think, Rhett?” (Y/N) teased, leaning down to kitten-lick the tip of his cock, quiet moans leaving her lips as she gathered the leaking precum on her tongue. All Rhett could do was groan, his dick throbbing against his stomach as he looked her over with hungry eyes. He had never seen a more perfect sight, not even the Tetons at sunset could compete with her wearing his hat.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett clicked his tongue and smirked, his fingers tightening around her chin slightly as he breathlessly said, “You’re gon’ make me an even bigger goddamn sinner, sweetheart. You look so fuckin’ perfect wearing my hat with my dick in your mouth.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) giddily hummed, wrapping her lips around his tip once more and dipping her head until the rim of the hat hit Rhett’s abs. She pulled off him again with a soft pop, sitting back on her heels as she hummed contentedly. She grinned up at him, eyes playful as she asked, “Now, isn’t there somethin’ I’m supposed to do if I’m wearin’ a cowboy’s hat?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett chuckled, simultaneously amused and aroused by her seemingly innocent question. He nodded, leaning forward as his hands slipped to her biceps to pull her up on her knees again. “Get up here in my lap, pretty girl. Time to show ya somethin’ ‘bout ridin’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) wasted no time in standing to her feet, teasingly trailing her fingertips up her thighs until they breached the hem of her skirt and tucked into the band of her ruined satin panties before she swiftly pulled them down her legs and stepped out of them. She smirked as she leaned forward and tucked the panties into his front pocket before straddling his thighs. Rhett’s hands immediately found her hips, pushing her skirt up so he could feel her hot skin against his rough hands and direct her dripping core to drag over his cock. They both moaned at the feeling, (Y/N)'s head lolling on her shoulders as her hands gripped his shoulders.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Please, Rhett,” (Y/N) whined, her teasing nature long gone as she began to grind along the length of his cock. She gasped when the tip bumped her clit, her eyes fluttering shut as her fingers flexed in pleasure. She licked her lips, that intoxicating strawberry lipstick long gone as she reached a shaky hand up to hold his hat on her head. “Rhett, please, fuck me.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett had imagined her begging for his cock so many times, but nothing could have prepared him for the feral feeling that would spread like wildfire through his chest when she finally did. It was pure instinct as one of his hands left her hips and grasped the base of his cock, the other holding her firmly in place as he aligned himself with her entrance.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett’s eyes flickered up to her face to watch her as he eased her down onto his length, his jaw slacking at the sight. Her lips parted, eyes screwed shut, and cheeks flushed as a breathy moan left her lips. His hat was slightly askew on her head, casting a shadow over half of her face as her chest heaved with panted breaths. Rhett swore he could have cum right then, the feeling of her tight walls slowly encapsulating him and hugging every inch perfectly as she whimpered above him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Jesus, angel,” Rhett sighed, his hands tightening on her hips as she lowered herself until he was fully sheathed inside of her. He could feel that sweet spongy spot against his tip, every breath she took, and every noise she made making her walls flutter around him in a way that made him wonder why he’d never acted on his desires sooner. He’d been missing out on all of this for years, but there was no way he was going to anymore. She hadn’t even begun to ride him and he was already so far gone for her he knew she’d ruined any other woman for him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) shakily exhaled, her chest dropping forward so she could press and hungry kiss to his lips as she began to raise her hips. Her movements were agonizingly slow, every shift of her muscles calculated to bring the both of them the most pleasure possible. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as she sunk down on him again, faster than the first time, before repeating her actions. Each time she lowered her hips against his, her pace grew faster and harder, a steady stream of skin slapping skin filling the sanctuary.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett let out a string of curses as she began to circle her hips every time she sunk down on him, a hand flying up to the back of her neck to keep her lips on his as his hips began to buck up into her. He met every bounce, every roll of her hips in perfect synchronicity; it was as if they had been fucking one another for years and knew exactly how to bring each other to the brink without a second thought. Every lovesick idea that Rhett had that they were perfect for one another was confirmed as their bodies moved, chasing their highs as their stomachs churned with desire.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) bunched the fabric of his flannel in her hands, supporting her weight on his chest as she bounced on his cock, keeping each one small so he hardly left her cunt at all but still hit her g-spot with every thrust. Rhett felt her walls clench around him as she whimpered, “I’m so, so close, Rhett. Oh, my god. Fuck!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett grunted in concentration as one hand slid from her hip to the front of her body, his fingers splayed across her stomach as his thumb began to circle her clit. He could feel his cock pushing against her stomach with every thrust, sending his body and mind into a frenzy as he sped up the speed of his thrusts. Rhett couldn’t even form complete words, anything he wanted to say was lost in his throat as it turned into desperate moans and grunts. His mind began to cloud with nothing but the want to make her cum, and he began to tighten the circles his thumb was making on her clit, focusing purely on the small bundle of nerves as she frantically ground her hips against his.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” (Y/N)'s words were jumbled, running together as she clung to Rhett’s shoulders. Rhett could feel his orgasm quickly approaching with each brush of his tip against her g-spot and each tug of his hair. (Y/N)'s walls clung to him, pulsing as he finally pushed her over the cliff, sending her spiraling into a trembling orgasm that had her entire body jolting with pleasure.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Shit, angel, I’m close.” Rhett wasn’t far behind, and although he wanted nothing more than to cum inside her and claim her as his own, he didn’t want to fuck this up. He grunted, slowing his hips just enough to keep himself right on the edge of an orgasm to ask, “Where d’you want me, pretty girl?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Inside!” (Y/N) practically begged, finding the strength to pull her head back and meet his eyes. Hers were wide, pleading with him to cum inside of her as she nodded her head. “Please, Rhett, please, I want it all.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎That was all it took to hurl him over the edge. Rhett’s hips stuttered before they stilled, the coil in his stomach snapping as he came inside her, painting her warm walls with his seed as a pathetic moan tumbled past his lips. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body shook, her pussy clenching around him and milking him for everything he had. His entire body tensed, fingers flexed so hard around her hips that he knew there’d be bruises when he let go of her. He had never cum so hard, his orgasm taking every ounce of energy and more until the last spurt of cum.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎They were both absolutely spent, lungs burning for air as they attempted to catch their breaths. It was eerily silent in the old, stuffy sanctuary, save for their labored breaths and the nearly undetectable sound of (Y/N)'s nails running across Rhett’s chest. Rhett was slowly becoming aware of the sticky sheen of sweat covering their bodies and the mess pooling around the base of his softening cock as their combined cum leaked from her pussy. (Y/N) lazily kissed at Rhett’s neck, grounding herself with the action before she pushed herself up, hands braced on his pecs as she grinned at him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) playfully bit her lips, meeting his shining blue eyes as she said, “You’re not gettin’ this hat back, cowboy.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett breathlessly chuckled, pushing his hair back from his face as he gazed up at her. “If I get t’fuck you like that when ya wear it, I don’ want it back. Jesus Christ.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) giggled and reached up to tilt the hat back as she leaned down, softly kissing his lips before she sat back up, smirking as he chased after her before his back collapsed against the chair again. She slowly lifted herself off of him, letting her skirt drop to cover herself as she stood on wobbly legs, “I’m gonna go get us somethin’ t’clean up with.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“No, no, I got it.” Rhett immediately said, pushing himself off the chair and scrambling to tuck himself back into his boxers. He adjusted his jeans on his hips, but opted to leave them undone until he was cleaned up. He smiled at (Y/N) and leaned down over her, tilting her chin up as he whispered, “Least I can do after the best sex of my life, sweetheart.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett placed a chaste kiss to her lips before he stood up straight and made his way to the altar at the other end of the room, knowing that they kept napkins in one of the tables back there. He returned with a handful, kneeling before her and carefully wiping her legs clean of their cum with whispered apologies if she hissed from oversensitivity. It was such a stark contrast from his fast and brutal pace that (Y/N) was wistfully sighing, watching him with adoring eyes as he wiped himself down and tossed the napkins into a bin near the sanctuary doors.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) stood up and slowly walked over to Rhett, her arms circling his waist as he finished buckling his belt as she grinned up at him. “Y’know, maybe I’ll wear the hat to the rodeos this weekend. Could be your good luck charm.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett chuckled and turned around in her arms, hands gently squeezing her waist as he hummed in approval. “Ya want everyone t’see ya wearing my hat?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) eagerly nodded, eyes glinting with mischief as she said, “Been lookin’ for a way outta my daddy’s house for years. Maybe he’ll be mad enough t’kick me out if he sees me wearin’ the hat of ‘that damn Abbot boy.’”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Rhett smiled and flicked the brim of the hat, letting it settle above her eyebrows so he could see her eyes better. “Good idea, angel. Then I’d get ya all t’myself.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) stretched up on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his, sighing contentedly as Rhett pulled her body flush against his. Rhett knew he had gotten himself into a tricky situation by fucking the preacher’s daughter, but with her lips against his, the opinions and judgements of the residents of Wabang couldn’t have mattered any less to him. He had an angel that could sin like the devil in his arms.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hehe the full fic is finally here! i'm super excited but also a little nervous, this is my first time posting smut online, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! the end is a little rushed, but i was just super excited to get this out for you guys, so here we are lol i have an idea in mind for a part two if anyone would be interested? let me know, love you all so so much!

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @callsign-joyride, @downinroma,

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