#rhett abbott vibes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lewmagoo · 6 months

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try a little tenderness | rhett abbott

description: in which you take care of each other in different ways

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, slight angst, very brief mention of religious trauma, rhett's childhood trauma, smut, dom/sub undertones, rhett is a switch, mention of kink play, oral (m receiving), deep throating, cum swallowing

notes: just a self-indulgent little somethin'-somethin' with some holiday vibes to go along with it. hope y'all enjoy

You were barely holding it together.

The rain that poured from the dreary sky seemed to encapsulate your mood as you made your way home from work that evening. It was mid-November, and the weather was just beginning to make its shift into winter.

On your little homestead, you and your husband had been battening down the hatches, preparing the house and the surrounding property for the onslaught of frigid temperatures and snow storms that were sure to blow in over the next few weeks.

Wyoming winters were long and hard. But somehow, you didn’t mind them that much. Not when you had your little farmhouse to snuggle into on days when the weather got bad. You’d moved into the house when you and Rhett had first gotten married. Although it was a house that had been in your family for years, it was a fixer-upper, and everyone had told you that you were wasting your money. But the two of you were determined to make a home out of it. And you had. It was a safe haven for both of you.

And now, you were running to it, seeking refuge in its warmth, and in the comfort of your husband’s arms, because he was what made it a home.

They say home is where the heart is. He was your heart.

He was so much steadier than you were. At the moment, you felt incredibly fragile. As if a gust of cold wind would shatter you into millions of tiny pieces and leave Rhett to have to pick up those pieces and painstakingly glue you back together.

You’d been trying, but failing, to hold in your tears the entire thirty-minute drive home. You couldn’t even bring yourself to turn on your driving playlist to occupy the silence, you were simply too overwhelmed and needed the peace and quiet.

All you could think about was how deeply you longed to be in Rhett’s comforting embrace. He was the only one who could console you when you were like this. And he loved being that for you. Knowing he was your source of comfort above all others made him feel special. It made him feel needed.

It was him you depended on. Him you allowed to see you at your most vulnerable. He cherished those moments. Even though it pained him to see you suffering, it brought him some semblance of peace to know that he was providing you comfort.

He knew that things had been difficult for you as of late. You were at a crossroads in your life, forced to make some hard decisions that had been weighing heavily on you. You’d spent countless hours agonizing over them.

Sometimes, it felt as if your only easy choice in life had been choosing to marry Rhett. You’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. He was good. He was kind. And he loved you. Did he come with his fair share of struggles? Absolutely. But that was what made him human. All the things he had been through had shaped him into the perfect man for you.

You had both gone through hell to get to each other. Your souls were bonded together, forged in the fires of great tribulation. But you were stronger together because of it.

You had built a life together. One of peace and security, far away from those who had wronged you. Rhett had distanced himself from his family. He only kept in contact with his mother and his niece.

Gone were the days of walking on eggshells, trying to avoid knock-down drag-out arguments with his brother. He didn’t have to use that sort of caution with you, because you never treated him that way. He’d learned how to communicate his feelings, rather than fight about them. There were never screaming matches within the walls of your home. Never a raised voice. Never a harmful hand laid upon the other.

It was a place of solace. And that was why you were running to it.

As you pulled into the driveway, the rain gave way as the first flakes of November snow began to swirl from the sky. Normally, you would stop to admire them, but you hardly even noticed the white flurries as you pulled into the carport next to the house.

Your eyes were blurring with hot tears, and all you wanted was to get inside, to find Rhett and fall into his arms. But as you climbed out of the car, the strap of your bag got caught on the gearshift. You didn’t notice until it was too late, and in a very dramatic turn of events, the force of the catch was enough to send you stumbling. On the way down, your ribs clashed with the bottom edge of your car, sending sharp pain blossoming through your torso.

You yelped, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathed through the ache. Meanwhile, Rhett was inside the house, having just seen the flash of your headlights in the window, signaling that you’d arrived home. Eagerly, he headed to the kitchen, with the intent of making dinner, because it was his night to do so. He was making grilled cheese, the one thing he had finally mastered in the kitchen, and he wanted it to be nice and hot for you, so he’d waited until that moment to begin preparing dinner.

But as he set to work, he noticed that it was taking you a while to come inside. Curious, he glanced out the window that overlooked the carport, and to his surprise, he saw you on the ground next to your car.

His jovial mood dissipated, replaced with concern. Without hesitation, he hurried to the door, where he shoved his feet into his worn, old boots and then wrenched the door open.

“Darlin’?” He called out, as he stepped outside, boots crunching on gravel. Quickly, he rounded your car, which gave him a full view of you crumpled on the ground, crying. Immediately, he was rushing to your aid. “What happened?! Are y’alright?”

He knelt beside you, wide-eyed, searching your body for any signs of outward harm. His protective instincts had kicked in.

“I-I fell,” you managed to whimper out. Honestly, it wasn’t even the fact that you’d fallen that kept you on the ground. It was the fact that you were entirely depleted of physical and emotional strength, and once you’d hit the ground, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand back up.

“Are ya hurt?” That was his biggest concern. He’d drive you to the hospital if he had to.

Your bottom lip wobbled as a fresh wave of tears poured down your weather-cooled cheeks. “A-a little,�� came your response. You knew that your ribs were going to bruise.

“Hospital hurt?”

“No.”

Rhett nodded, relaxing a little. “Alright. I’ll help ya up. Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

Lovingly, he helped you to your feet, securing his arm around your waist, and grabbing your bag from the car before he led you into the house. The warmth washed over you immediately. You hadn’t realized how cold you were, but the slight tingle in your fingertips told you that you had certainly gotten a chill from outside.

Rhett closed the door behind you, effectively shutting out the cold. You stood there in the entryway, unmoving as you felt another wave of tears overcome you. Your husband hadn’t noticed yet, as he was taking off his boots, but when he stood up, he saw you frozen in place.

“What’s the matter, pun’kin?” He asked. His pronunciation of pumpkin, the sweet nickname he’d given you years ago when you were still dating.

His gentle concern was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Immediately, you turned, surging forward into his arms. It caught him by surprise, but he quickly recovered, wrapping you up in his embrace. You melted into a fit of sobs, burying your face against his broad chest.

“Hey now, I’ve got’ya. Ain’t never gonna let you go.”

His assurance only made you cry harder. You loved him so much. He was so good to you.

His hand, large and warm, came up to cradle the back of your head, and he slowly rocked from side to side, soothing you with a quiet “shh” as he let you cry. He didn’t inundate you with questions, although he did want to know what had you weeping so brokenly in his arms. It made his heart ache.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there in the entryway. It could’ve been a few minutes. It could’ve been a whole hour. But the comfort his embrace brought you was welcome. It calmed you down considerably.

After a while, you finally pulled back, lifting your face from his now tear-soaked shirt. His expression was soft, his lashes fluttering as he lifted his hand to dry what was left of your tears.

“Somebody make you cry?” He asked. He’d give them what-for if they had.

“I-it’s just…oh, it’s everything,” you whimpered. “Work sucked today, I felt like I was in fuckin’ purgatory. I don’t…I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Rhett sighed softly. Seeing you in pain made him feel so powerless. While he knew that he was providing you comfort, he still wished he could take all the hurt away. You didn’t deserve any of it. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead.

And then, “Let me take care of ya. ‘ve already got dinner started. How does a bath sound? I’ll get ya set up and then finish dinner so you can eat.”

“Good,” you whispered, as if you couldn’t find the strength to speak louder.

With a nod, Rhett set to work. “C’mon, let’s get you out of all these layers.”

He began carefully undoing your coat, which he removed from your body and promptly hung on the little coat rack by the door. Then he pulled your hat off your head and placed it on the pegboard that also housed different sets of keys.

He guided you to sit down on the bench near the shoe organizer, and there, he knelt before you, unlacing your boots. You watched him so tenderly, so reverently, care for you, and again, you felt yourself welling up with tears.

You hadn’t retained much from the time you’d spent growing up in church, aside from some trauma and a distaste for religion. But one Bible verse in particular popped into your head as you watched your husband remove your shoes. Most men will proclaim every one his own goodness: But a faithful man who can find?

Rhett never asked for anything. He never bragged about himself or his accomplishments. He was good and kind. A little rough around the edges, but he treated you like royalty, and respected you deeply. He was faithful to you, and to the homestead you had built together. He didn’t wander. He didn’t seek intimacy in the arms of another. He was anchored to you, for better or worse.

And now he was guiding you up the stairs and to the bedroom, his arm secure around your waist, part of him always touching you. Grounding you. He guided you to sit on the bed, leaving a kiss against the top of your head before he sauntered over to the dresser to choose some pajamas for you.

You were in a haze, brought on by the rush of emotions you had experienced. Sleepy from crying, frazzled from your stress. You were lucky that Rhett was there to help you, because you felt so pathetic and incapable of caring for yourself in this state. You could manage alone if you had to, but you didn’t have to. As long as your husband was around, you’d never have to worry about being alone.

“You want to wear these, or these?” He asked, holding up a set of Christmas pajamas that were your own, and a pair of sweatpants and one of his Henleys.

Of course, you chose the sweats and his shirt, because you wanted to be entirely surrounded by everything that was him.

With your pajamas picked out, he guided you to the bathroom, where he had you sit upon the closed toilet seat while he began filling the tub, making sure the water was the perfect temperature. In the process, he grabbed the little space heater you kept in the bedroom, and he set it up in the corner of the bathroom, to warm up the cold tiles so you wouldn’t catch a chill.

You smiled fondly at his attentiveness. “I love you,” you spoke.

He paused, his face softening, his eyes fluttering. “And I love you, pun’kin.” He kissed the top of your head before he motioned for you to stand. There, he began undressing you, and you allowed him to, because you didn’t have the energy to do it yourself.

After the bath was filled, and the bubbles were in, he guided you into the water. “I’m gonna’ go finish makin’ us dinner, alright?”

But you frowned at that. “No, wan’ you to get in with me.”

“And I’d love to get in with ya, but you haven’t eaten anything since your lunch break, right?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Since 11:30 actually.”

“Uh-huh, exactly. That’s why I’m feedin’ you dinner. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ my baby starve.” Another kiss was left upon your head. “Just relax and enjoy your bath. I’ll be back in a few to help ya get dressed. Then we can eat.”

That piqued your interest. “Can we watch a holiday movie?” You asked.

He hummed, a twinkle in his eye. “‘course we can, sweet thing.”

As he turned to leave, you spoke up. “Hey, Rhett?”

In the doorway, he turned. “Hm?”

“Thank you for takin’ care of me.”

He shook his head. “That ain’t somethin’ you need to thank me for. Carin’ for you is my job, and I’m always gonna do it.”

What a man he was. Once he left the room, you found yourself reflecting upon how blessed you were to have him. When you’d first met him, he was a broken man with so much love to give, but no one to bestow it upon, except for his niece. But she wasn’t his child, so he found himself holding back, because even though he didn’t agree with the way his brother parented her, he didn’t want to overstep.

Of course, he would’ve made a better father to Amy than Perry ever could. But that was neither here nor there. Now, Rhett barely spoke to his brother. For his own well-being, he’d cut ties with Royal and Perry. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he was better now because of it.

There were behaviors he’d worked hard to unlearn after he entered into a relationship with you. Trouble communicating and processing his emotions was the most glaring issue. Those first few years together were no picnic. You had argued often. All you asked for was for him to be open and honest with you. He bucked against it like an untamed horse. The thought of being exposed and vulnerable in that way terrified him.

He didn’t want you to see the wounded, ugly parts of him. Didn’t want you to see him cry, because his father had drilled into his head that showing emotion was feminine. Men don’t cry, he’d tell his son. It was simply because he didn’t want to deal with Rhett’s emotional nature.

Rhett, who had always been a sensitive soul, learned to hide that sensitivity early on. Don’t cry, for fear of being told “I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about.”

In recent years, since Amy was born, Royal had softened a bit. But he was still just as hard on his youngest son. Rhett was the workhorse. The dependable one. The one who would grit his teeth and get the job done without complaining.

And God forbid if he tried to complain. Royal wasn’t one for physical violence, it just wasn’t in his nature. But when Rhett was seventeen years old, he’d gotten fed up with the verbal lashing from his father. It was the first time he’d really tried to stand up for himself and tell Royal to shove it, in not-so-delicate terms. But it hadn’t ended well. Royal had backhanded Rhett so hard he saw stars, and ended up with a bloody lip.

The man had felt bad about his reaction, but the thing about Royal Abbott was, he didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in his nature. Rhett couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever heard ‘I’m sorry’ come out of his father’s mouth.

That moment was what made Rhett realize he couldn’t stay in such a toxic environment. He longed to leave the confines of the Abbott Ranch behind and pave his own way. But that was easier said than done. A sense of responsibility to his family kept him chained down to Wabang. He seemed to be destined to spend the rest of his days as a bull rider, living in his father’s shadow, busting his ass and receiving nothing in return.

And then he met you.

You made him believe there was more to life. You made him believe he could chase his dreams and achieve them. You made him believe in himself.

He had learned so much from you. And through you, he had found freedom. You were the first person, aside from Amy, who’d ever truly believed in him. And here he’d spend the better part of ten years pining after a girl named Maria, who had never and would never return his affection

He remembered being so glad when she returned to town after being at college for the last few years. He thought maybe things would be different. Maybe she would see him for who he was and finally reciprocate his feelings.

But all she’d done was string him along and make him feel like shit for never leaving Wabang. In the end, she lost any interest she might’ve had in Rhett, leaving him dejected.

And then you showed up. You were new in town. Your grandparents had just bought a new house in Florida, but still had yet to successfully sell their ranch. While they transitioned to a new house in a new state, they asked you if you would be willing to stay at their place until it sold. Dissatisfied with your current job and living situation, you agreed.

Soon, you found yourself in an unfamiliar town in Wyoming, the last place you ever thought you’d be. You got a job through Amelia Elementary School, teaching piano. One of your students was Amy Abbott, and this was how you met her uncle, Rhett.

You should have known it from the second you saw him. He appeared rough and tumble, but when he introduced himself to you, his eyes, bright and blue, were soft, and you swore you saw the hint of a blush in the apples of his cheeks.

That was what did you in. There was a softness to him that tugged on your heartstrings. You had Amy twice a week for lessons. Rhett picked her up each time, and you found yourself looking forward to seeing him.

Over the course of the next few months, he swallowed his fear of rejection and worked up the courage to ask you to go for coffee. Rhett wasn’t a fan of the fancy lattes and whatnot that Two Horns Coffee sold in downtown Wabang, but he’d noticed you often had a coffee cup from the place in hand, and he wanted to take you somewhere you liked.

That was how he found himself seated in a quaint little cafe that totally wasn’t his style, in favor of getting to know you. That day, you talked for hours, until the coffee shop employees were shooing you out because it was closing time. And after that, you walked through the town and continued talking.

Rhett wasn’t loud or boisterous or pompous. He was quiet and gentle. He was shy, which surprised you. He seemed so confident, but really, it was all a front. Everyone perceived him a certain way. He was the promiscuous bull rider with a new buckle bunny in his bed every night.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He admitted to you that he hadn’t slept with anyone since Maria a few months ago, and before her, the last time anyone had been in his bed was the night of his 21st birthday. Some girl he barely knew.

His family’s perception of his promiscuity stemmed from that instance, where Royal had caught the girl sneaking off early in the morning. Since then, Rhett hadn’t been able to live it down. In the minds of his family, he was the man-whoring problem child.

Rhett never bothered to correct them, because what was the use?

But when you looked at him, you saw him. The real him. Shy and slightly awkward. Fidgety, unable to sit still. Kind and loving. Determined.

He liked that. He felt seen and heard with you. He never felt like a burden. And because of this, he found himself drawn to you more and more. Soon enough, a romance blossomed between you. While it had its ups and downs, there was no doubt in each other’s minds that this was it. You were bonded for the rest of your lives.

Your wedding came not long after. An intimate occasion with your closest friends and family. A beautiful ceremony in the mountains. After that, you moved into the home you’d been staying in since you moved to Wabang. As it turned out, your grandparents’ little ranch never sold, which left you and Rhett to move into it.

You offered to pay in full for it, but your grandparents wouldn’t hear of it, insisting it was your wedding gift. The house did, however, need a lot of renovations, and that was where a lot of your money went.

Since then, you had turned the house into everything you’d always dreamed of, and you’d started a wholesome life within its walls.

Here Rhett was, thinking he needed to leave Wabang. But in reality, it wasn’t his hometown that he needed to distance himself from. Miraculously, his mental well-being increased tenfold when he escaped from beneath Royal’s thumb and started living his own life.

And that was the thing of it, too. Rhett had a purpose here, on your little ranch. He could cultivate that intrinsic need to take care of things. He could take care of the land. He could take care of the animals. The only animals you had were your horse, Marabel, and Rhett’s horse, Esmeralda. But he had hopes of one day opening a horse sanctuary on your land.

That was his dream. Not professional bull riding, like he’d spent so long trying to convince himself of. He loved horses, and wanted to do everything he could to help the animals that had always meant so much to him.

He was working toward making that dream a reality. And someday soon, it would be.

It was amazing to see the difference in him, since he’d started chasing after what he loved. He was no longer a man chained down to a life he didn’t want. He’d found a sense of freedom, and now, he was happier than he’d ever been.

Yes, he had you to thank for it. But really, the determination to live a better life came from him. You were simply the one that lit the fire beneath him. Now he was a roaring flame, burning brighter than the sun.

You were so proud of how far he’d come. And he was proud of himself, too. He had every right to be.

He’d taken his ranch expertise and found a job at a horse ranch just outside of town. This allowed him to continuously be around the animals that he loved, while also making money. The owner was quite well off, and was paying Rhett handsomely.

For the first time in his life, he was making a steady income, and he could provide for not only himself, but for you as well. You had your own job, and could hold your own, of course. But Rhett liked knowing he could take care of you. And you appreciated it. Coming from a family who’d never uttered so much as a thank you for all he did, it was refreshing to have someone express their unending gratitude for his care.

Something as simple as making you grilled cheese for dinner made his heart soar, because after a difficult day, you were depending on him to care and provide for you. And he’d be damned if he was going to let you fend for yourself.

Watching you struggle had been hard for him. He hated seeing you in such a state of unrest. The changing of the seasons didn’t help, either. You were always hit with a bad wave of seasonal depression as soon as the clocks fell back. The early darkness made you sad.

So Rhett did all he could to help you bear that burden. And tonight, he was determined to help you feel better. While you enjoyed your bath, he set to work finishing up dinner preparations. A little while later, with sandwiches at the ready and the living room set up with blankets and pillows, he rejoined you in the bathroom.

“Hey, pun’kin. Y’ready?” He asked.

You smiled sleepily at him. “Mhm.”

So, he began the process of helping you out of the tub. He toweled you off, and then reverently smoothed your favorite lotion onto your skin. You were in a state of bliss as his large, but gentle, hands traveled over your body. He aided you in changing into your pajamas, and then he pulled a pair of cozy socks onto your feet.

“C’mon now, let’s go eat ‘fore it gets cold.”

With that, he bent to shut off the space heater before he guided you out of the bathroom and down the stairs. When you walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but smile. He’d spread multiple blankets and pillows across the couch, creating a soft, cozy resting place. The fireplace was roaring, the low lights were on, and when you glanced at the window, you saw the snow was now falling in white sheets, making you feel as if you were inside a snow globe.

“Oh, this is perfect,” you whispered.

Rhett beamed. “Go on, have a seat. I’ll get ya a drink. What do you want? Coke Zero? Some sweet tea?”

“Tea, please!” You quickly replied. One of the things Rhett could make besides grilled cheese was a mean sweet tea. Not too sweet, with just enough tea flavor that it wasn’t overpowering. It was your favorite.

“Comin’ right up, chickadee.”

As you settled into the soft blankets on the couch, Rhett hurried to grab drinks for both of you. Soon, he was rejoining you, presenting you with a glass of tea, complete with a straw. You thanked him, and he smiled before he set about selecting a holiday movie. The 1947 version of Miracle on 34th Street was his choice, and soon, you were cuddled up together as the opening credits rolled, enjoying your dinner of grilled cheese.

And just for a little while, things didn’t seem so bad. The harsh reality of life was dulled if only for a time, softened by the sweet delicateness of this moment shared between you.

After you finished your food, you curled into Rhett’s side, your head on his shoulder. Content, he rested his cheek atop your head. You knew it was inevitable that he’d fall asleep. With a full tummy, and a cozy couch beneath him, he was sure to doze off. Rhett liked to stay busy, so during moments when he wasn’t, such as sitting down to watch a movie, he would almost always fall asleep. Years of being a workin’ man will do that to a body.

He expected you to fall asleep, too. You’d had such a difficult day, and he was fully prepared to spend the rest of the night asleep on the couch with you.

However, you were still wide awake as the movie neared the ending. Instead of drowsiness, you were filled with immense gratefulness. Rhett had come home from a long day of working in the cold, and had prepared you dinner and ran you a bath, simply because you’d had a bad day. He didn’t have to do such things, but he wanted to.

He didn’t expect you to turn cartwheels and thank him in some dramatic way, but as you lay curled against him, you were struck with an idea. Albeit a mischievous one.

You shifted, moving to glance at him. He was barely awake, his big, round eyes droopy. But then you began to nuzzle against him, kissing his jaw lightly. At first, he didn’t think anything of it. But then, one of your hands worked its way beneath the hem of his shirt, rubbing at the skin there.

“Your hands are wanderin’,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“I know,” you replied with a smile.

“What’re you doin’, girl?” He continued as your hand went toward his chest.

“Can’t I touch my man?”

“Sure y’can. But with you there’s always some ulterior motive. Little tease.”

He let out the softest of surprised squeaks when you tweaked his nipples, feeling them harden beneath your touch. “Not teasing. Just exploring.” Your lips attached to his jaw again, where you kissed and nipped at the scruffy skin.

He began to melt beneath you, always a sucker for your loving touch. Your wandering hand trailed down his abdomen, and stopped just above the waistband of his plaid lounge pants.

“Darlin’…” he warned, as your fingers swirled through the light dusting of hair that led down into his pants.

“What?” Deft fingers traveled beneath the band of elastic. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, which pleased you greatly, and gave you easy access. You brushed against the base of his cock, gripping onto it purposefully. He sucked in a breath, his hips jolting.

“Just wanted to thank you,” you hummed against his neck. “Always take such good care of me. Thought I’d take care of you.”

You stroked him once. Twice. Palm running over silky skin. You longed to feel him grow in your hand. It was so erotic to you. Holding that thick, beautiful cock of his while it swelled to full hardness.

“Wanna see it,” you spoke again.

Rhett lifted his hips off the couch and haphazardly pushed his pants down toward his thighs. That was all you needed. His lower half was exposed, just enough for you to free him from the confines. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you languidly ran your hand up and down, resting your head on his chest as you watched him harden.

God, you wanted to worship him. So that was what you did.

You turned, moving to trail kisses down his smooth chest, stopping to leave a kiss against the raised scar that sat upon his shoulder. An unfortunate accident with a bull some years back.

Then you went lower, lower, lower. Hands exploring, lips traveling. Soon, you were kneeling between his strong thighs, gazing up at him. You tugged his pants the rest of the way down, discarding them entirely so you could have uninhibited access.

“S’pretty,” you hummed, as you admired him. It took him a moment to realize you were talking about his cock. His cheeks turned a shade of pink. But his bashfulness was soon forgotten when you leaned forward and began kissing along the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, offering tentative kitten licks as you went.

He watched as you rubbed your cheek against him, nuzzling him as you kissed at his sensitive balls. You wanted to take a moment to truly appreciate what was before you. Standing tall and proud, something Rhett had every right to boast about if he wanted.

But he didn’t. And that was where you came in, talking him up because you loved the way it rendered him speechless and blushing.

“So big, I don’t know how it even fits inside me,” you mused. And it was the truth. But he was careful when he fucked you, never wanting to hurt you. Of course, that didn’t mean he was gentle. He had his gentle moments when you needed them, but he also had his moments where he fucked you within an inch of your life. You loved the balance. And you loved that he was mindful of what your body could handle. He’d never push you past your limits. Getting you to safeword was not the end goal. He wanted you to be able to enjoy intense scenes, without being pushed too far to the point where it took you out of the moment.

Together, you had built a steady trust in each other, with boundaries put in place. Even in the midst of those scenes, you felt safe with Rhett. Protected. Even in the throes of intense passion, he was still looking out for you.

But sometimes, something simple was all you needed. Like now, for instance. Lazily mouthing at his dick, relishing in the sharp saltiness on your tongue, and the deep muskiness that could only be described as Rhett. There was something so manly about it, and it sent a needy ache thrumming through your core.

Meanwhile, Rhett was blissed out above you, torn between admiring you between his legs, and letting his head fall back against the couch as he relished in the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. Sinful and heavenly all at once.

After spending time kissing and licking at him, you finally moved to focus on his tip, blushed and glimmering in the low light. Eyes flickering up to meet his hooded gaze, you parted your lips and very slowly began to swirl your tongue around him. Making a show of it, you focused your attention on the slit, tongue flicking back and forth until you were rewarded with a bead of precum, which you eagerly lapped up.

“Oh, oh darlin’,” he breathed, hands gripping at the blankets beneath him. “You an’ that mouth of yours.”

You hummed around him, closing your lips around the tip and suckling softly before you began inching your way down. Being able to deep-throat him had taken practice. You remembered the way he reacted when you first took all of him. Unbeknownst to him, you’d been using a toy that was roughly the same size as him, training your throat to be able to take him.

Now you could take him like a champ, and it drove him wild.

Slowly, slowly, you took more of him, relaxing your throat, until your nose was pressed against the gathering of dark hair around the base. He kept himself neatly groomed, but left just enough behind because he knew how much you loved it.

“‘at’s it, atta girl,” he graveled, fighting the urge to place his hand atop your head and hold you in place. But he would soon quickly lose that air of dominance to you.

You swallowed around him, which stole the air from his lungs, before you pulled back, kissing at the tip, wet with your spit. As you took a moment to catch your breath, you brought a hand up to toy with his heavy balls.

“Ha!” He gasped, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Sensitive?” You asked.

“Uh-huh,” he answered. “Ain’t had ‘em played with in a while.”

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, mouth still against the soft skin of his cock. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? Haven’t played with these big sensitive balls. Haven’t milked the cum out of them in so long.”

“F-fuck!” You’d taken him all the way to the hilt again without warning.

It was true. It had been a while. It had been a crazy few weeks for both of you, and you hadn’t had time to really enjoy each other in the way that you wanted. A few quickies here and there hadn’t satisfied that burning desire you held for one another.

Rhett didn’t like getting off without you. Sometimes, he would, if he was ever out of town or vice versa. But he much preferred being with you. He craved you. Fantasized about you. Wanted only you. His hand didn’t cut it. Your mouth and pussy were what he wanted.

And oh, how good your mouth was. You knew exactly how to pleasure him. Knew he loved when you swirled your tongue against the underside of his tip, where he was most sensitive. Knew he couldn’t get enough of your hands on his balls while you took him down your throat. Knew he loved when you rubbed your face all over his dick.

When you pulled your mouth off of him again, you rubbed the tip all over your lips, kissing softly, humming against him. Then you went back to tonguing the underside, and he gasped sharply, hips jolting.

You took that opportunity to close your mouth around him and let him slide naturally to the back of your throat again. You used your other hand to massage down his shaft as you pulled back up, never leaving him without a moment of stimulation.

“Y’ keep doin’ that and I won’t last,” he warned.

“That’s the idea,” you replied with a smile.

He moaned softly, letting his head fall back as you swallowed around him. This time, you stayed down longer, gulping as you did, and the sound drove him wild. You were drooling all over him, pulling out all the stops to bring him to the edge.

And it was working. He was so pent up, and you both knew he wasn’t going to last. He’d begun to tremble, his thighs shaking at either side of your head. His hands clenched and unclenched around the blankets he held. His hips had begun to move of their own volition.

“You’re squirming,” you teased.

“Ca-can’t help it,” he stammered. “Your—fuck—your mouth is so g— ah!”

He couldn’t even get the words out. You kept pressing your tongue against that damn spot, knowing it would get him all worked up. He was losing his coherence the longer it went on. Mumbled half phrases, with gasps and whines mixed in. It was so easy to work him up like this. He was always so responsive.

Interestingly enough, he hadn’t always been like this. In the beginning, he’d been more reserved. He was shy about the sounds he made. Ashamed of his whines and whimpers. He was holding back, and you could tell. So, little by little, you encouraged him to be more vocal.

“Wanna hear you. Wanna know it feels good for you,” you’d told him, and he hadn’t really thought of it that way. As much as he loved hearing you and knowing he was making you feel good, he realized you also wanted the same thing from him.

It took him a little while to feel confident enough to freely make those sounds of pleasure, but once he finally got past that hurdle, you couldn’t shut him up if you tried. Not that you wanted to, either.

There was something about this man of few words being unable to remain silent that really got to you. You’d expected him to be all gravelly grunts and groans. And he was. But he whimpered, too. A lot. Especially when you got him feeling really good.

He was so easy to rile up. Whether he was assuming the dominant or submissive role, or just simply making love to you with no kinky games involved. Get him close to orgasm, and sounds would pour from his throat uncontrollably.

Like now, for instance. He was so beautiful this way. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back, his mouth open to let out unsteady gasps. You loved how you could reduce him to such a state. This strong, steady man, who’d just so tenderly taken care of you, was now trying to hold it together so he wouldn’t come too soon.

But you wanted it. “Nuh-uh, don’t you hold back,” you told him.

He took a shuddering breath. “Honey…”

“C’mon,” you coaxed, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking quickly. “Know you wanna come in my mouth, wanna watch me swallow all of it.”

And oh, he did. One thing about Rhett was that he loved watching you take his cum. Whether it be smeared across your pretty face, painted onto your chest, dripping out of your pussy, or in your mouth.

Right now, you wanted it in your mouth. And you were determined to get it. Keeping your tongue right against his tip, you tightened your grip on him only slightly, moving your hand with purpose. Your other hand was at his balls again, massaging in time with the hand on his shaft.

His eyes swam with unshed tears, and he gritted his teeth, breathing harshly through his nose. Warmth was beginning to crackle to life at the base of his spine, as if you’d just lit a fuse.

You pulled out all the stops, taking him to the hilt again before you resumed that pleasurable torture against his tip. Alternating back and forth, bringing him closer and closer and closer to the edge, watching through hooded eyes as he lost himself, chest heaving, body trembling.

“C-close,” he gasped.

“Come down my throat,” you urged, before you placed his cock against your tongue, stroking hard and fast as you brought him toward his end.

Rhett gazed down at you, and you caught his eye, your face pleading as you eagerly awaited his load. He could barely take the sight, and he threw his head back, groaning deeply. “F-fuck, darlin’, I’m—”

And then he whined. Keening high in his chest, his hips shunted forward. You could feel him pulse beneath your touch, and in an instant, you closed your mouth around him, creating a seal so that nothing would escape. You took all he had to give, swallowing every last drop of his seed like the good girl you were, all while he gasped and whined and softly sobbed above you.

As he came down, he twitched in your mouth, the sensitivity mounting. He hissed as you pulled off his cock, sucking any remnants of cum from his skin before you released the softening shaft. You pressed a gently kiss to the tip before you innocently looked up at him.

Breathlessly, he swore. “Get up here,” he murmured, and you smiled, climbing up into his lap. He searched for your lips, and you kissed him, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Mm, nearly sucked m’ soul outta me,” he teased.

“That was the idea,” you said with a giggle.

He leaned in to kiss you again. His eyes were droopy, sleepiness evident in his features. “Should return the favor,” he continued when he broke the kiss, but you shook your head.

“Uh-uh, that was my way of thanking you for taking care of me. We’re even.”

“But I wan’...” he paused to yawn, “wan’ make you feel good, too.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised. “For now, let’s just rest.” Another kiss was pressed to his lips before you reluctantly slid off him to retrieve his pants from the floor. You had just enough time to pull them onto his body before he had fallen asleep.

Lovingly, you brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead before you settled down beside him, pulling the blanket over you both. “I love you, cowboy,” you whispered, as you nestled yourself against his side. How grateful you were for him. This good and kind man was all yours. You silently thanked the universe for giving him to you.

And sure enough, the next morning, you woke to his head between your thighs, sending you to a place of absolute, unadulterated bliss.

Yes, you were thankful for him indeed.

taglist:

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @peachystenbrough @attapullman @auroralightsthesky @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @hangmanapologist @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @callsign-magnolia @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @nobody7102 @milesmillergf @idontcare-11 @theliterarybeldam @yanna-banana @floydsglasses @whisperofsong @1-800-floyd @floydsmuse @cruel-winter-nights @goldenseresinretriever @keep-on-burnin @happyrebelruins @bamfkurt @swiftsgirlfriend @virgo-wonder @seitmai-too @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fic

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laracrofted · 11 months

Text

downright iconic

synopsis: after handsome gambler’s hometown show, you follow lead guitarist rhett abbott on his smoke break.

pairing: rockstar!rhett abbott x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, ageless blogs that interact will be blocked, swearing, explicit smut (semi-public oral, masturbation, spitting, praise, degradation (slut is used a lot, so is groupie), brief hair pulling, dirty talk, role play, like... rhett is kind of mean but it's been negotiated off-screen, i swear), and smoking (wc: 4K)

note: so... i'd like to blame @lewmagoo for enabling me and my guitarist rhett agenda, but in the end, i can only blame myself for this one. please read the warnings!

listen to gibson girl by ethel cain before/after/during for the full experience, i.e. a sexy guitar solo and general vibes.

so many people interacted with the original post so i'm only tagging people who asked: @theharddeck @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @blitchen @becks-things @ryebecca @perpetuelledaydreaming @rhettabbotts @starlightmoon2020 @wkndwlff @broketraveler87 @thedroneranger @high-speed-r @sebsxphia @cherrycola27 @uhhhhhhhhwat @roosterbruiser @pillow-titties @whoeverineedtobe @bobfloydsbabe @petcr3

You’re watching him the whole show. How could you not?

Handsome Gambler broke out on the basically nonexistent Wabang music scene a few years back and quickly became something of a local marvel.

A hidden gem in the realest sense.

Forged in the blistering sun that beat down on the cattle ranches and dude ranches of Wyoming and Montana all summer long where half of five-person Handsome Gambler still worked in the slow season... a real rock band.

After a year or so, larger opportunities arose in out-of-town bars, and soon enough, Handsome Gambler were selling out dives up and down the Rockies.

They'd gotten enough local buzz for the Casper Star-Tribune to cover the release of the debut album last summer, both in print and online, calling them an electric revival of the musician who works with their hands. Blue collar rockstars.

And in the deep red shadows of the stage, no other description could do Rhett Abbott justice. He looks so ruggedly handsome, like a goddamn rockstar.

Loose strands of dark hair fall in his face, in his eyes as Rhett bends over a dark red Gibson – a beautiful electric guitar, saved up and paid for with rodeo earnings.

A guitar pick is between his lips, narrow and pursed in concentration. He reaches up and plucks it from his mouth, swiping his tongue across his chapped bottom lip, preparing for the upcoming guitar solo.

Tonight is their last show in a nine week tour, and for all intents and purposes since most of Handsome Gambler is from Wabang, their hometown show.

It's a packed house, if much smaller than their usual venues these days.

You’d seen them at Million Dollar Cowboy bar down in Jackson in a 400 person crowd right around when Handsome Gambler put out their debut album, which had really gained them all the attention.

A sleek concept album. Spinning a shadowy narrow of forgotten love and wasted youth and western nights, humming cicadas and wildfire smoke on the mountains and rich earth stained black with rain and death and in the aftermath, a dusting of wildflowers that sprouted anyway – in and over a dozen songs, woven with seductive guitar solos and haunting vocals, morose and longing.

Like a ghost, come down from the mountains.

You'd bought the album on the release date and listened on the floor of your old apartment, back against the scratchy carpet, hands folded at your bellybutton, eyes closed.

On your first listen, you'd hit with repeat without hesitation; on your second, you'd cried.

It was brilliant, meant to be heard live in a hazy dive, dense with bodies and liquor and smoke, like this one.

His solo comes, and Rhett slides down on his knees in the center of the stage; faded, once dark denim stretched taut around his muscular thighs.

He sits back on his haunches, gaze slanted, watching the guitar and nothing else. Gorgeous hands slide reverently up and down the neck of the instrument, veins visible, muscles straining in his strong arms, in his beautiful neck.

Head falling back, Rhett closes his eyes, caught in the music and carried downriver.

Seeing him like this reminds you of another piece in the Tribune last summer.

A freelance music writer had spent an afternoon with him before a show for an in-depth profile on the origins of the band, on the music, on Rhett as the North Star the rest of Handsome Gambler often described him as:

"Handsome Gambler is Not Afraid to Lose."

WABANG, Wyo. – It’s an unseasonably warm June in Wabang, dry enough to brown the fields and make the local ranchers worried about wildfire, but in a secluded diner on the edge of town, former competitive bull rider and now, lead guitarist Rhett Abbott looks like a man who isn’t afraid of a little risk.

The diner was his choice, a run down place with enough charm in the form of checkered floors and old autographed photos in chipped wood frames to make it feel retro instead and according to him, the best pancakes in the whole damn state.

And – with a laugh – some of the worst coffee.

Over good pancakes, chocolate chip with homemade whipped cream, and bad coffee, I ask him about Handsome Gambler’s influences.

He co-wrote their entire debut album and came up with the instrumental interlude in the middle, which serves as the musical crux of the album.

A blend of slow and sorrowful guitar and bass and nature ambience, recorded on Abbott's phone on a late April night after a bad rain storm, which dares to go on for an ambitious four and a half minutes.

At my question, Abbott kind of smiles – half on, half off, an expression I notice often over our breakfast interview – and from memory, rattles off names like Grateful Dead, Springsteen in the "Born in the U.S.A." years ("I’m On Fire" is mentioned more than once and with great admiration), Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Fire on the Mountain" (Abbott is specific here, from The Marshall Tucker Band's 1976 album, "Searchin' for a Rainbow," not the Grateful Dead song), and more.

Household names. Ambitious names. One could almost roll their eyes if Abbott didn’t sound so sincere.

"I've always loved music. We didn't have a whole lot of live music around, not like in the big cities, but as a kid, Ma used to bring me to some of the cover band nights at this bar in town. S'closed down now, but I heard my first Led Zeppelin song there. Some drunk guy singing 'Going to California' in the wrong key for eight fucking minutes."

"She got me an old CD player for my room the next Christmas, and I'd put on Zeppelin IV and crank it all the way up. She'd come in screaming at me to turn it down, probably secretly regretted ever buying it for me."

Curious, I ask if Abbott remembers the name of the bar.

He grins, a full grin. "Handsome Gambler."

You love that profile, reread it often. His answers are so genuine, so sincere.

Every word, answer, description screams that Rhett Abbott is a man who loves music, who absolutely worships it with every bone in his body.

You can see it clear as day right now.

He plays with such ardent devotion, and caught in his thrall, you're short of breath, hand pressed across your collarbone, over your aching heart.

Applause breaks out at the end of the song, and Rhett's blue gaze blazes over the crowd and in a startling rush, lands right on you.

Your breath catches.

He has an intense stare, all scrunched brows and clenched jaw, covered in stubble, and middle-of-a-flame blue eyes, burning and bright.

He holds your gaze, drinking in the awe, the undisguised adoration in your expression.

Another starstruck fan in the crowd.

You wonder if Rhett can sense the want that warms your lower abdomen, descending from the moment Rhett stepped on the stage, a since-cast-aside black Stetson pulled low over his smoldering gaze, guitar slung carelessly over his good shoulder, and his arms – his bulging arms.

He must.

Because in a blink and miss it moment, Rhett winks at you.

One of the girls at the next table over lets out a piercing squeal, bragging to her friends that the sexy cowboy with the guitar winked at her.

But no, Rhett had winked at you, rockstar Rhett Abbott.

You look down, sipping from the rim of your rocks glass, letting the whiskey sour ground the explosion of butterflies in your stomach.

A kind of giddiness sparks in your chest, mixed with something darker and headier. Something like anticipation.

One look at Rhett reveals a smirk, kicking up the corner of his mouth, as Handsome Gambler kicks off the next song – the last song of the night.

You drain the contents of the glass. It burns the whole way down, a struck match, a good burn.

"Need a light, darlin'?"

Rhett is leaning against the brick, watching you search around your purse for an excuse to be in the alley right now, in the alley with him.

You used to carry around an old pack of cigarettes from your college days – a built in excuse to get out of an awkward social situation, stepping outside for a smoke.

Are you missing them in the darkness, or did you leave them at home?

A sidelong glance at him. You nod.

He offers you a lighter – a gleaming brass, not some garbage from the gas station – and when your arms remain loose at your sides, not moving to grab it from him, his brow quirks in question.

Heat rises in your cheeks. “Oh, I don't have a – Can I get one actually? Must’ve left my pack at home.”

You stumble over your words and fuck, Rhett must know now.

You'd seen him slip out of the side Emergency Exit door and followed him out here, made brave with whiskey sours and adrenaline.

A door that is still cracked open, enough for a crackle of music and a faint haze of red light to seep out into the cool night and barely illuminate your faces.

The expression on his is hard to read.

An open pack of Marlboro Reds – a little smushed from being roughly pulled from and shoved back into his back pocket over and over – is held out to you, and Rhett lets you pluck one from the middle.

Sets one in between his lips.

And with a crooked finger, Rhett gestures for you to come close, closer, until you’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on his skin, damp and flushed from the show.

You suck in a breath, and Rhett smoothly lights both of your cigarettes with a deft click. A quick flash of orange flame. You barely even notice, preoccupied with the press of his mouth around the cigarette, so close to your own.

He straightens, pulling back but only enough to not blow the smoke right in your face. He inhales and blows it out of the side of his mouth, watching you.

You hold in a cough, wincing at the acrid taste, and mimic him.

Breathe in and out and in again.

His gaze drops down, caught in the rise and fall and rise of your chest.

He squints, eyes crinkling in the corners, and with vague disappointment, you realize Rhett is checking out your shirt and not your cleavage.

Armed with a pair of eyebrow scissors and a dream, you'd cropped and cut and ripped until an enticing sliver of stomach and a hint of cleavage would be visible, almost but not quite showing the red lace of your bra. Just in case.

A crooked smirk dances on his lips, amused, as Rhett reads the name across the black fabric.

“A Floyd fan, huh? Y’got a thing for drummers, darlin’?”

You manage not to squirm but only just.

You like Bob Floyd. He’s a great dummer, real sweet.

(“It’s Bob, like Dylan,” Bob mumbled against the microphone earlier, during his introduction, looking very Born in the U.S.A. Springsteen in a plain white shirt and a camo baseball hat. At the sound of his voice, a drunk girl in the audience shrieked I love you, Bob, and Bob went beet red. “I , uh – Thank you. We love you too, Wabang.”)

You shrug in lieu of an answer, and Rhett's smirk grows a little wider, a little mean.

"Why're you out here with me then, pretendin' to want a smoke?"

You look him up and down, as if considering.

“Well, I really hoped Floyd might be around, but…”

An obvious lie, but Rhett was a bull rider before. Some part of him must still possess that combative edge, that competitive streak.

You'd like to see him all riled up.

His gaze darkens, pupils blown.

A warning.

A snorting and kicking bull who's spent all night in a chute.

You bite back a smirk.

His voice is so low, so rough, scraping across your burning skin like day old stubble.

“S’that right? Are you a groupie or something? Some slut who’d let any of us bend you over and use you? Who’d suck any of our cocks?”

He is so very close you right now, crowding in.

“Maybe…”

Is that really your voice? All smooth and alluring?

Sucking on the end of the cigarette, you hollow your cheeks out with your inhale and relish in the way Rhett watches you.

You ash the cigarette, watching the red embers fall and fade.

“I mean, I do really love your music.”

His next words come out in a harsh exhale.

“Take off your panties.”

You blink at him, a little surprised, and Rhett cocks his head.

Like I dare you.

Also like I don’t believe you.

You slide them down your legs and place them in his open palm, fingers brushing against his. They are red lace and damp, obviously so.

They had been ever since Rhett had flicked his guitar pick at you during the last song and before, even.

He chuckles and shoves them in his back pocket.

“You liar. I recognize you. Saw you in there, watching me the whole goddamn show. You came out here lookin’ for me, didn’t you?”

Not Floyd is implied.

You nod, mouth dry, unable to keep up the lie.

“And what were you hopin’ would happen, darlin’? How good of a groupie are you lookin’ to be?”

“Anything, Rhett,” you breathe, pretense all but gone, "as good as you want me to be.”

A wolfish grin cuts across his face. Good answer.

He catches your chin between his fingers, pressing hard enough to bruise. Pulls your cigarette from your parted lips and crushes it under his black cowboy boot.

"It's your lucky day, darlin’. Get on your knees."

You drop your purse. Almost bruise your knees on the asphalt, and for a brief second, Rhett's eyes go wide with something like concern.

You've already moved on, pushing aside the groan of your knees, not bothered.

You undo his massive belt buckle – gleaming, like the lighter, an intricate design – and pull down his zipper in one quick move, eager. You look up at him, glossed lips already parted in mindless anticipation, and Rhett looks back with nothing but amused desire, that mean smirk.

“What? You lookin’ for an invitation or somethin’?” he asks, voice full of gravel. He is still smoking the cigarette, red embers reflected in his dark and shining eyes. “You wanted some cock so goddamn bad. Take it out.”

You swallow hard and shove his boxers down until Rhett’s cock springs free, hard and dripping and beautiful.

A soft, longing breath escapes you, and Rhett smirks down at you.

You should probably work him up some, work him over with your hands until Rhett is desperate for you to put your mouth on him, but…

You put your mouth on him, desperate for the weight of him on your tongue.

You go deeper and choke, moisture streaming from your eyes and down your cheeks.

You’re a little out of practice. It's been a while, a little over two months.

You want him deeper, so much deeper, but…

Too much, too fast.

You have to pull back, gasping for breath, and Rhett makes a disappointed tsk sound. Blows out another puff of smoke.

“You can do better than that, right, darlin’? Because I bet I could go back in there and find some other slut who’d swallow my come in a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

So damn degrading. You're on fire, smearing across your inner thighs without your underwear.

“I can. Let me do it again. I promise I can.”

You sound downright pathetic. Can't even be bothered to care.

His smirk widens, and Rhett flicks the cigarette to the side.

"Gimme your hand," he urges in a low voice.

Fingers banded around your wrist, Rhett is not overly rough, careful not to yank and strain your shoulder, but he's not gentle either.

He presses down hard on the flesh between your thumb and pointer finger until your clenched fist opens for him.

His spit slaps against the center of your palm.

And is it your imagination that Rhett brushes a kiss across your pulse?

He guides your hand back down on him – around him – and works your hand around the base of his cock in hard and unforgiving strokes, working the length of him too big for you to reach with your mouth right now.

Determined, you lick at him, running your tongue along the slit of his cock, the vein that runs down the side, and sink your mouth around him until your lips brush against his clenching fingers.

Swallow around him.

Above you, Rhett shudders, dropping his head back against the brick, spasming on your tongue and hitting the back of your warm throat with an involuntarily jerk that makes you gag.

A low murmur of shit, sorry, darlin’ rushes from his mouth before Rhett seems to remember himself.

No longer apologetic, Rhett catches your hair in his free hand, giving a good, solid pull, and continues to work your hand around him with the other. His fingers grow slick with your spit, dribbling from the sides of your mouth, wetting the coarse hair on his knuckles.

He's muttering under his breath, curses and praises and words too low for you to make out over the wet sound of him.

“Fuck. So good, darlin'. So goddamn good."

A moan vibrates around him, and Rhett curses again, louder.

“S’that good, that what you needed? You needed my cock in your mouth? Anyone could walk out here. Anyone could come out here and see you on your knees, swallowing me whole like a desperate little slut.”

You whimper in answer, like yes, like please, like more, I desperately need you to say more, and a hand scrapes across your cheek, calloused and warm and rough, a slow stroke.

“But I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Good little groupie like you.”

Damp arousal drips down your leg, and you can't handle it anymore, you need, you need, you –

He doesn't miss a beat, not Rhett.

He sees you move, sees your hand pull at the denim, desperate for friction, for anything. A strained groan slides down your spine.

"Jesus Christ... How wet're you from suckin' my cock? Show me."

This seems like an impossible demand in this situation – you on your knees with your mouth full of him – but you've always been creative.

You gather your arousal, gasping at your own wetness, somehow surprised even in all this, and hold your hand out for him in the light.

Red light shines across your glistening fingers.

"God..." Rhett seems almost amazed. "Haven't even touched you, darlin'. You're so wet for me."

Awe burns away, leaving something more carnal in the ashes.

His eyes are half-lidded and nearly black, a summer storm on the indigo horizon.

"Touch yourself for me," Rhett rasps out, an order, a need.

And spits on your glistening fingers.

It's so wet and depraved and so fucking good, fingers dripping with his saliva and your own arousal, spreading his saliva across your cunt, rolling over your slick and swollen clit, clenching around nothing.

Every sweet sensation makes you gasp around his cock, growing more and more desperate, as Rhett pushes in and out of your mouth, spilling sweet and filthy words like a recitation.

"So fucking wet for me. So goddamn good."

"Come for me and my cock. Gonna come on your hand and swallow my cum, like a good little slut."

You imagine Rhett is the one touching you right now.

He is pinching at your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with thick and unrelenting fingers. He is parting you with knuckles covered in wet hair and stretching you out for him. He is giving you even a mere fraction of the rapt and devoted attention Rhett displayed earlier on stage, single-minded and focused on your pleasure.

And come with a muffled whine, eyes rolling back in your head.

Only seconds later, Rhett spurts down your throat with a near animalistic grunt, mouth falling open in pleasure. You swallow every drop.

Awash in the red glow of the aftermath, Rhett studies you with an unreadable expression again. You are standing again now, smoothing down your clothes and brushing the gravel and dirt from your knees.

You're both breathing hard.

He crooks a finger. "C'mere."

You go without hesitation, and Rhett grabs your wrist again, slower and gentler now, and pulls your fingers into his mouth, sucking the arousal from your skin.

He lets out a reverent groan, eyes filled with amazement and wide blue awe, flooding back in like a dam that's been cracked down the middle.

A smile pulls at your mouth, and Rhett crushes you against him. You loop your arms around his strong neck, and Rhett buries his face in the hinge of your shoulder with a content sigh.

"Missed you s'damn much, darlin'."

He murmurs the words against your forehead, smearing a kiss across your brow, stubble a pleasant and familiar prickle against your damp skin.

You melt against him, nudging your nose under his jaw and inhaling his scent, sweat and tobacco and mountain air and him. "Don't be gone for s'damn long then next time, rockstar."

"Come w'me next time."

He sounds almost drunk, mumbling and slurring against your bare skin, drunk on your proximity after nine long weeks apart from each other.

"Can't. Who else is supposed to write profiles on local up-and-coming bands? You should see the other writer that the Tribune hired. He's like... the med-iest of all the -ocres.”

His laugh is a warm puff of breath against your neck, which after nothing but phone and video calls is almost enough to make you sniffle against his shoulder.

You've missed him so damn much.

"Ah, right. It'd be selfish of me to deprive the whole damn state of your brilliance." He pulls back and looks you right in the eye, a gentle nudge under your chin. "Was that... You're okay, right?"

You smile wide. "I'm perfect."

"Good." He grins, a full grin that Rhett had flashed you for the first time over good pancakes and bad coffee months ago. "Because goddamn, you're so incredible. That was somethin' else, darlin'."

You'd been the one to come up with the idea, a perfect welcome home for him at the end of the nine week tour, a call back to the confession you'd made around a month of dating.

You know all I wanted to do when I saw you play for the first time was follow you on your smoke break and suck your cock, but I had to be a professional...

"We can pretend to be strangers. You can see me across a crowded room, and I can follow you out on your smoke break and..."

"And what?"

"That'd be up to you, wouldn't it, rockstar? I'd be like... your groupie or something."

You let the idea sink in, smiling and on the other end of the phone, Rhett swore under his breath.

You grin at him now.

"You were pretty incredible yourself, but right now, I do kind of want my boyfriend to kiss me."

His eyes are warm, light. "Yeah? D'you miss him that much?"

"So very much."

He cups the nape of your neck and leans in for a kiss, a firm and aching and devouring and loving kiss.

You kiss and kiss until Bob Floyd comes out to grab him for the encore.

"You're wanted, rockstar."

He gives you a wide grin and plants a kiss on the center of your wrist, right on your racing pulse.

"See you after the show, m'love."

You are sipping a water at the bar when Rhett comes back out on stage, all bright eyes and mussed hair and a bare scrap of red lace hanging out of his back pocket.

Impossible to miss.

You choke on your water, and Rhett winks.

note: so... i saw this photo of lewis said, yeah, guitarist rhett on his knees for a solo, and all of the sudden, i was spending hours reading musician profiles and assembling a list of handsome gambler-ish songs. life moves pretty fast 🤠

i could probably be persuaded to write more about them if anyone is interested.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fic #rockstar!rhett #guitarist!rhett #fic: downright iconic #laracrofted writes #fic: rhett abbott

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Cowboy Trouble

Summary: When your boyfriend loses a game of poker, Rip Wheeler claims a night with you as the reward.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader x Rip Wheeler

W/C: 3K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving), anal sex, threesome, slight spitting kink, soft dom vibes, fingering and dirty talk. This is pure filth.

A/N: Thank you @writercole and @whatblogisthis216 for your help with this story and Cole again for the beautiful moodboard. Thanks to @imjess-themess for the idea of the poker game and @therebeccaw and @blue-aconite for beta'ing.

Masterlist ♡ Outer Range Masterlist

Rhett takes a seat in the corner of the hotel room, hat tipped back and a glass of whiskey in his hand. Your own mouth tingles from the two shots you took earlier in the lobby bar. The liquor helps to round the edges of your nerves. Tonight is a first for you and Rhett but something you’ve both wanted for a while. When your boyfriend caught Rip watching you on occasion it seemed like kismet. The Dutton’s ranch foreman was powerful and alluring but most importantly someone Rhett trusted. For all his violence, you knew Rip was a good man, kind but a little broken. Not unlike Rhett in that regard.

You sigh, relaxing into Rip’s hold as he runs his calloused hands over your smooth skin. When you look at Rhett his attention isn’t focused on you but rather Rip. He watches the way the older man slowly undresses you and mouths at the skin of your neck. You reach back and bury your hand in Rip’s thick hair, tugging light and pulling a groan from him. You feel hot and shaky, primed for his touch by the flash of jealousy in your boyfriend’s dark blue eyes. Rhett’s always been a little possessive and you’ve never loved that trait more than you do now. If looks could kill, Rip would be dead but the other man doesn’t seem to mind, his touch confident and sure. His hands feel like Rhett’s, roughened by their line of work, but they’re bigger than your boyfriend's. You shudder at the way one large hand spans over your delicate throat while the other cups your breasts.

"This just for me?" Rip asks, plucking at the flimsy strap of your lacy bra.

You smile at him over your shoulder, suddenly feeling a little shy. Rhett picked out the set yesterday, the color chosen specifically to compliment your skin tone. After you modeled it for him he’d taken you in the dressing room, bending you over the velvet bench and keeping you quiet with a hand over your mouth. He didn’t even bother to remove the lingerie, just pulled the underwear aside and sunk himself to the hilt, telling you to remember who you really belong to when you wore it later.

“For you and Rhett,” you tell Rip, glancing over at your boyfriend. Rhett takes a long sip of his drink, his pink lips shiny. The dark look in his eyes sends a bolt of desire through your body and you press yourself against Rip in response.

“Well, thank you, Darlin,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down your stomach until he reaches between your legs.

He rubs you over the thin layer of cloth until you're damp and squirming in his arms. Every time you make a little sound or beg him for more, Rhett shifts in his seat and rubs his palm over his thigh. You drop your head back to rest against Rip’s chest while he works you over with soft touches and whispered words meant for just the two of you. When you’re close to your peak he finally draws away and turns you to face him. He makes quick work of unhooking your bra and drawing down your underwear. The latter gets stuffed into his pocket and your mind buzzes at the thought of what he might do with it later.

Both men are still fully dressed while you’re completely naked. You feel vulnerable and powerless under their gaze, hyper-aware you’re at their mercy. That thought sends an unexpected wave of heat through your chest and you let Rip guide you to lay back on the bed. He arranges you so Rhett can see everything. Rip caresses your jaw with his big hand and tells you what a good girl you're being for him. You jump when he settles a hand on your knee, glazing back at Rhett.

“Easy now,” he whispers, speaking to you like a spooked horse and running his hands up and down your splayed thighs. “Look at me, sweetheart. Rhett’s not in control here,” he reminds you.

You shudder, eyes closing briefly as he works one thick finger inside and curls it upward. It feels good and isn’t long before a second and third join the first. You shift your hips down to drive his fingers deeper, grasping his forearm when he thumbs your clit. He works you into a desperate state, watching you with dark, wanting eyes. When he finally pulls his fingers out they glisten with your arousal. You watch, breathless when he moves away from you and approaches Rhett, dipping his fingers into your boyfriend’s whiskey and swirling them around. Rhett maintains eye contact with Rip as he downs the drink in one swig.

Rip smirks and returns to you, shedding his shirt and unbuckling his belt. You relax on the bed, dropping your hand between your thighs to rub your clit while he undresses. Once Rip is naked, he climbs onto the bed, his impressive cock bobbing between his thick thighs. You know it's going to be a tight fit and your cunt throbs in anticipation.

“Do I need a condom?” He asks you.

You glance at Rhett and he nods. Your boyfriend’s the only man you ever let come inside you and knowing he wants Rip to have you that way almost makes you dizzy.

“No,” you promise, reaching up to touch Rip’s beard. It’s softer than you expect and he smiles in return, nudging your thighs farther apart to accommodate his bulk. He pushes inside slowly, a hand on your jaw keeping you focused on him and him alone. “Don’t want to miss a minute of this,” he tells you, staring down at you without blinking until his hips are flush with yours.

You feel incredibly full and you roll your hips in response, needing something. Rip chuckles and pulls back only to move forward in one smooth but harsh stroke. You moan and beg him to do it again. He obliges until you’re almost crying around him because it feels so good. The drag of his cock inside you, the scrape of his beard over your nipples and the bruising grip on your hip all work together to have you coming around his cock in no time. The hand that cups your cheek blocks out any view of Rhett and he keeps you focused on him while he fucks you through it, prolonging the pleasure you feel.

When you’re finally coming down, his hand drops to the back of your neck while the hand on your hip tightens. The world spins and Rip rolls the two of you. Suddenly you’re on top of him, his hard cock sliding even deeper inside. Both of you groan when you flutter around him.

“Take a second to find your breath,” he urges, rubbing your waist.

You glance over at Rhett and meet his stormy blue eyes. He’s leaning forward in the chair, another full glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. You notice the bulge in his jeans and the white knuckle grip he has on his thigh. When your brows draw together in concern he shoots you a wink and leans back, rubbing his palm over his bulge.

“Focus on Rip,” he directs.

You turn your attention back to the other man and watch him reach for the cowboy that he abandoned earlier in the evening on the bedside table. He sets it on your head with a smirk, tugging it down at the same time he rolls his hips. You gasp and pitch forward, settling your hands on his broad chest.

“Ride me, darlin’. I know Rhett’s taught you that much.”

You don’t dare look at your boyfriend when you rise up on your knees and drop back down on Rip’s thick cock. Your thighs tremble, your body still weak from your earlier orgasm. Rip helps you with a steady grip on your waist. You settle into a rhythm, circling your hips and rising up high enough to almost let his cock slip out before falling back down. Rip’s eyes close, his curly hair wild around his flushed face. You feel powerful riding him like this, working you both into a desperate, wanton state. Your own plesure builds at the base of your spine, another orgasm buzzing into existence the longer you fuck yourself on him. Rip seems to feel it too, pressing his roughened thumb into your clit and circling it over that sensitive bundle of flesh until you’re mewling for him.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering.

“Look at your boyfriend while you come apart on my cock,” Rip demands, fucking up into you with hard, unrelenting strokes as his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. “Tell him how good it feels to have me come inside you.”

“Rip, please,” you beg.

“Tell him,” the other man demands, ceasing his movement. You whine in frustration and try to ride him yourself but a bruising grip on your hips halts any movement. In desperation, you look back at Rhett.

“Feels good,” you moan, rewarded for your statement when Rip returns to fucking you. “He’s gonna come inside me, I want him to,” you pant, the last word turning into a wail as you come apart and your vision goes fuzzy.

Rhett curses and Rip groans deeply, stilling and flooding you with his warmth. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and you struggle to pull air into your lungs. Every part of you feels weak and loose. Strong, warm hands settle on your shoulders, and the hat on your head is plucked off. You look up at Rhett, leaning into him as he strokes your sweaty back. He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you roughly.

“Think she might need some help dismounting,” Rip suggests, his voice grizzled.

You wince as Rhett helps you off the other man’s cock and onto your feet, leaning heavily into his body. A trickle of cum leaks down your legs and you press them together, rubbing your face against Rhett’s chest. He cups the back of your head and you sigh, taking in his familiar scent. When Rhett reaches for your dress on the floor Rip clears his throat. You look over your shoulder to see him leaning casually against the headboard, an arm tucked behind his head.

“I was promised a full night,” he says, stroking his beard and staring at your body.

“Ready for another round already, old man?” Rhett questions, brow arched.

“In a few minutes. Thought maybe you’d like the chance to fuck your girl at least once tonight.”

“You want to watch me and her together?”

You can hear the surprise in Rhett’s voice and look back up at him. You know from the way his tongue runs over his lower lip slowly that he’s not entirely opposed to the idea, just taken aback. He looks down at you and you nod, letting him know you're game.

"You said it's my night with her and right now, that's what I want to see,” Rip says. “Put her on her stomach.”

Rhett helps you back on the bed before stepping back to undress. Rip pulls you to lay beside him, rolling on his side and smoothing a hand down your back and over the swell of your ass. You jolt forward when he curls two fingers inside you, gathering the mess the two of you made together. He drags his wet fingers up the back of your thighs and stops short of your ass.

“Can I touch you there?” He asks, nuzzling your face.

“Yes." Your breath catches when drags his fingers between your cheeks and finds your tight bud.

“Has Rhett fucked you here before?” He asks, using the wetness he gathered to tease your entrance.

You nod and drop your head to rest on the back of your hands, squirming as Rip teases the ring of your ass. It burns a little when he pushes inside but you want it, pressing back with a groan. Behind you the bed dips and another pair of hands settle on your body. Rhett places a chain of kisses between your shoulder blades and settles himself over the backs of your thighs. You close your eyes, letting Rip tease you.

“She’s gonna need lube,” Rip says, withdrawing his hand.

“No shit,” Rhett shoots back.

“Please,” you moan, arching back.

“Easy, we’re getting there,” Rhett promises you.

You glance over your shoulder in time to see Rhett take a bottle Rip hands him. Your boyfriend carefully works a finger inside you and you drop your head forward. He’s slow and methodical, letting you get used to the sensation before adding a second and scissoring you open. You roll your hips, your cunt feeling empty again each time Rhett fucks you.

"Hmm, gonna need a little more lube," Rhett hums, his fingers continuing to stretch your tight hole. You feel, rather than see, his warm saliva drip into your ass.

It’s filthy and you love it, moaning in response. You surrender to his quiet ministrations, rocking your hips back and forth as he continues to stretch you open. You’re not sure how long Rhett works you over, body feeling warm and relaxed but when he eventually pulls away your whine.

“Shh, we’re almost there,” he promises you, pushing your legs apart to kneel between them. “In the meantime, I think Rip needs a little attention.”

You lift your head just as Rip settles in front of you, his long legs resting on either side of your body. His cock is inches from your face and he’s already half hard again, stroking himself while he watches you. You rise up on your elbows and shift forward to take the tip between your lips, teasing his head with your tongue when you feel Rhett’s thick cock nudge your back entrance. When you open your mouth to welcome Rip’s cock inside, your boyfriend pushes the head of his cock past your tight ring.

The action jolts you forward and you swallow more of Rip then you intend, eyes watering with tears but you don’t pull back, moaning around his length while Rhett slowly feeds your ass more of his cock. Rip’s large hand settles on the back of your head, careful not to exert pressure. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, tasting the tartness of your own arousal and the salty warmth of his.

Rhett pushes the last few inches inside while Rip gently presses on the back of your head until you’ve taken him down to the base. Your tongue darts out to taste his firm balls. You’re full in the best way and none of you move, savoring the feeling until your need for air has you drawing back. Rhett follows suit and you pull off Rip with a gasp, eyes closing when Rhett slides back inside and begins to slowly fill your ass again.

You nearly forget about Rip until he guides you back to his cock, letting you take over once your lips close over his head. You tease his slit with your tongue as Rhett picks up his pace. Your cunt flutters around nothing and that needy pressure builds in your lower stomach.

“Fuck,” Rhett gasps, curling his body over yours as pushes you harder and harder into the bed. His weight on you feels good and you grasp Rip’s cock and drag your lips down the underside, tracing the prominent vein you find there until you reach his balls. You suck on them gently, pumping his cock in time with your boyfriend's thrusts.

“Put your mouth back on him,” Rhett pants. “Take all of him down.”

Rhett’s commanding tone hastens your own desire and you do as he asked. Rip sighs and cups your face with both hands, thrusting shallowly into your mouth a few times. You relax your throat so you can take all he has to offer. He pumps into you once, twice and then floods you with his hot, salty cum. You gag but keep your face pressed to his stomach when Rhett grips your hips and pulls up so he can force a hand under you and strum your clit.

It’s hardly the kind of touch you normally need but they've both got your body so primed it sends you flying. You gurgle around Rip, his come dripping down your chin as you fall into unimaginable pleasure. Rhett fucks you harder and faster until finding his own release with a shout, his hot come filling your ass. You lift off Rip with a wet gasp, lungs burning. Every part of your body hums with pleasure and you shudder while Rhett continues to lazily thrust into you.

You feel like you might pass out, body overwrought, but Rip has more in store for you, nudging your mouth open again. He rests the tip between your lips and you close your mouth around him, sucking gently and drawing out more of his salty taste. He groans and pets the crown of your head.

“Good girl,” he praises, staring down at you, his cheeks flushed. “Keep sucking.”

“The best girl,” Rhett agrees, kissing the back of your neck.

You feel empty when he pulls out of you and groans at the loss of fullness. Rip pulls away a second later and they both turn you on your back. Someone drags a warm cloth between your legs to clean you up while another pair of hands wipe the tears and come from your face. You open your eyes and see Rhett hovering over you. He encourages you to drink some water and smiles down at you.

“Proud of my girl,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You sigh happily and lay back, letting Rip cover you with the thick comforter. He kisses your cheek and whispers his thanks.

“Anytime you wanna lose at poker again, you give me a call,” Rip says.

“Anytime you want to fuck my girl again, you can give us a call,” Rhett shoots back.

The stunned silence has you cracking open an eye to watch the two men face off. “Are you both going to let me sleep alone?” You ask. “I’m cold.”

Rhett smiles at you, reaching down to squeeze your ankle while Rip stares at you. “Well?” You question.

“You heard the lady,” Rhett says, stalking forward and slipping into bed beside you.

“Who am I to say no to such a request,” Rip replies, his plump lips drawing up under his beard.

♡

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#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x you #rip wheeler #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fan fic

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