#delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Don't mind me, just thinking about the way Rhett reacts when you give him the first hug he's had in years. How he stiffens when your arms curl around him, despite the grime and sweat that still clings to him from his ride. For a second or three, he forgets how to breathe. Arms dangling at his sides until he remembers how to move them. Hesitantly wrapping around you, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

And he just melts.

Warm breath fanning out against the crook of your neck, squeezing you close, unshaven cheek scratching your skin. You only meant for it to be a brief sort of thing, but you can't move. Not when you can feel his muscles slowly unraveling beneath your fingertips, every ounce of tension draining out of him with one little hug.

It takes him some time to let you go, and it's only because he's hankering to steal a kiss off of you, planting on big one on your cheek before moving on to your lips.

He doesn't immediately adjust to this new affection thing; you've got to do a lot of giving in the beginning. Hugs and kisses and everything in between, but as time passes, he starts getting the hang of it. Knows that he's more than allowed to sneak up behind you and hug you from behind. It's okay for him to reach for your hand just for the sake of it and that there doesn't have to be a reason to touch you.

But sooner or later, he becomes so comfortable with it that he's downright shameless about it. You can hold your hands up, and he'll squish his dirty face right between your palms, grinning from ear to ear. He'll let you spin him around and around at the bar. Ventures up to you when he unexpectedly sees you in public, just to pepper your cheek with kisses. Regardless of what kind of touch it is, he's grinning like the biggest idiot in the West.

#wrote this instead of what im supposed to be writing #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups #delgato's thinking

[delopsia]

Thinking about all the things Rhett had to deal with while growing up on the Abbott ranch and how his world tips on its head when you come into his life.

He's forever conscious of how Perry was born out of love, and he was born because Royal realized that it would be cheaper to have his kids working than it was to hire help. Poor Cecelia was so blindsided by her baby fever that she didn't realize why Royal went back on his "I only want one kid" statement until after Royal hauled five-year-old Rhett out to work on the ranch for the third day in a row. An entire two years younger than Perry had been when he started working.

And the problem with Royal, is that arguing with him only makes him dig his heels into the dirt, refusing to sway on his decision.

Most of the kids in his school worked and had their responsibilities to help keep the household running, but Rhett was the only one who had to do his homework on the bus because otherwise, he wouldn't have time to do it until he went to bed. Just like he was the only kid to miss every single field trip, because why should he go to the zoo with his class when he could be working with Royal?

He doesn't understand why his dad snaps at him for crying over his injuries but soon comes a time when he doesn't care about the bruises littering his arms. Gets annoyed when Perry cries about crushing his hand. Nothing's broken; there's no reason to get worked up over it.

That exact thinking keeps him quiet the first time he gets hurt bullriding. So focused on chasing the same small-town glory as his father that he doesn't mind the sprained ankle. Getting on again and again because, for a few fleeting seconds, the crowd cheers his name, and the sound of their applause is the thing he's grown to crave.

There was some point when the workload in the house started shifting. When Perry was starting to reach the end of his high school days, started to fight a little harder against Royal's iron fist. And with an explosive temper that nearly dulls Royal's, it only made sense that he started getting his way. Enjoying days off, weekends spent touring colleges, and venturing out into the real world, because of how his explosive demeanor always devolved into threats that shook his momma to her core.

But one less pair of hands on the ranch meant that the others had to take on more work, and with Royal's old bull riding injuries coming back to bite him, Rhett was the only one capable of taking it on. But just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Hiring just one ranch hand would have made all the difference, but the prospect of losing money is something Royal's always disagreed with. Slowly, Rhett's work days grow longer. Dinner time no longer makes the end of his work, having to go back out to finish up while everyone else showers and settles in for the night. Waking up before school to get a head start on chores, hoping he'll be done early tonight.

It never happens. Where he finds free time, Royal finds things he could be doing, and Rhett starts learning that lying about needing to do store runs is the only way he'll get a break.

The way Royal refused to let him and Perry have cellphones until they turned eighteen and could buy them with their own money. The result of a privilege revoked after a thirteen-year-old Perry got caught on his phone at two in the morning ended with a smashed phone and a brutal reminder of where the eldest son gets his anger from.

A rule that was forced to be overturned when Rhett was sixteen. All because something in the west pasture spooked his horse; she'd run him clean over in her attempt to get away from it, and he never saw her coming. He still doesn't remember hitting the ground, but he does recall the splitting ache in his skull when his eyes finally reopened.

With no cell phone, he had no way to call for help, forced to limp home on foot. He didn't get home until after dusk because Royal had written his absence off as teenage rebellion. A hospital visit later, Cecelia went behind her husband's back to buy new phones for both of her boys, but even the justification of keeping her boys safe wasn't enough for Royal. Because Rhett had made it home and was fine at the end of the day.

Then Rhett's eighteen, and he's just barely maintained his grades to graduate. He's got it in his head that he's going to move out, get out of this stuffy old town, and pave his own way, doing something, anything. But now Perry and Rebecca are moving into the house with their daughter, and Rhett's being asked to put off his plans until they get settled in.

He's nineteen when he gives up on trying to leave because something always needs him to stay home a little longer. He's twenty when he figures out why Royal drinks so much beer, gets hooked on the way the bitter liquid makes the ache in his shoulders disappear, and for the first time in a while, he's happy. Because you can't remember your sorrows when you're drunk.

Rhett's twenty-one when he can start wandering into bars, and he's twenty-one when he learns that there's a group of girls who come to rodeos, hoping to catch a steamy night with a bull rider, no strings attached. It's strange to kiss a girl you don't know the name of, waking up alone in a hotel bed with hardly any memory of what happened the night before. But for a few splitting seconds, he doesn't feel so alone in this big world, and he's clinging to it with every fiber of his being.

Until that's not enough, either. The scream of the crowd, the electric touch of those pretty girls that cheer his name, no longer make his days easier. Beer quits chasing away the pain in his joints, the prescription painkiller for an old injury in his wrist had might as well be candy, and he can only escape it by blacking out. He doesn't remember getting that DUI, but Officer Joy tells him that he was muttering about how Royal wanted him to chase down a cow that broke through the fence. He's in such rough shape that she intentionally forgets to discharge him, hoping the day of rest will do something to get rid of the bags under his eyes.

She isn't quite sure what to think when she learns that he's practically been running the Abbott ranch for the past few years. Royal always fails to mention his youngest son when he brags about his ranch.

Then you come along.

A fresh new face, one of the only people to move into Wabang rather than out of it because your new job led you all the way out here. It was Sherrif Joy who suggested you visit the Amelia County rodeo once or twice, and you'd only gone because there was nothing else to do. Rhett didn't notice you until Joy came to congratulate him on his ride, with you glued to her side. He hasn't stumbled through a hello in years, but he can hardly get it out of his mouth.

Your face sticks in his head while he works, and God, he doesn't even know your name, but his heart is jumping in his chest when you run into him at the store, time and time again. Until he finally cracks and starts a conversation with you while waiting in line, and somehow that ends in the two of you standing in the parking lot, talking until the store closes. An invitation to get drinks turns into dinner dates, and he's got something to look forward to again.

All of a sudden, you're massaging his overworked hands and cradling his scruffy face like he's made of glass. Whispering about how he needs rest and deserves all the love you shower him with, and he's not sure what to make of that. Can never figure out why his eyes water that first time he lays his head on your chest, listening to the pitter-patter of your heart while you play with his hair.

His momma is the only one whose ever done that; she stopped when he was fourteen.

He doesn't know how to tell you that he loves you. Those words choke in his throat every time he tries to utter them, stifling him into a painful silence that he can't escape. Instead, he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He works.

Replaces the busted locks in your doors, changes the oil in your car, he builds the porch you say you wanted, and he tinkers away at the little household annoyances. You want a fence? He's got it; he just needs to get up earlier to have time to build it. You're telling him that he doesn't have to do all these things for you, but work is the only thing he knows how to do. If he stops, then what else can he give you?

He doesn't understand what you see in him; he's not as energetic and fun as those other rodeo guys who eye you up every time they see you. They have more money, they're stronger, don't have the aches and pains of an old man, and they haven't got the reputation of being the town casanova.

He doesn't understand how you look at him like he's something precious—some priceless thing that deserves the world and more. There will come a day when you realize you deserve better, more than he could ever hope to give you, and he knows it'll break him, but he lets you love on him anyway. Because a few months spent with you is the best thing he could ever ask for, even if you walk away in the end.

But you're not walking away. Fuck, he's probably given you more opportunities than the Lord can count, but for some reason, you stay. And you're spending your first Christmas together, he's buying you too many sweets for Valentine's Day and he's spoiling you on your birthday, only to get confused when you surprise him with cake on his own birthday. Can't remember the last time he blew out candles, only realizes he was supposed to make a wish three days later.

Selfishly, he wishes that you'll be with him forever.

You're taking him to the zoo for one of your dates, and for the first time in his life, he's looking back at a tiger, and it's so, so different from the pictures. There are otters, bears, cheetahs, and wait, wait! Why are there goats in a zoo? Hasn't everyone met a goat before? What's so special about these ones? And how the fuck are giraffes so tall?

Royal says the red-panda plush Rhett hauls home is a waste of money. He could have saved that money to invest in land or a future, but all Rhett can think of is how, when he squeezes it to his chest at night, he can almost deceive himself into thinking it's you instead.

But then comes that big argument; he forgets what its about midway through, because he's realized that this is it. This is when you realize that he can't give you what you deserve. He can't blame you, but that still doesn't stop him from breaking when you walk out to your car.

He doesn't know what the hell to think when he realizes you're in the room with him. Couldn't hear the squeal of the door over the choked noises coming from his own mouth, eyes so clouded with tears that he can't even see you. But he can feel your arms around him, and he doesn't want to hug you out of fear of this being a dream. Yet you're still there, and you're not promising you're never leaving him, and he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. And it scares him so bad that he shakes with it.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to let go of him because he clings to you with this fear that you've never seen before. Words aren't enough to convince his broken heart that you're not going anywhere, and for the first time since you met him, he talks. Spills every fear and thought he's ever had through his hiccups, confirms your suspicions of how much he hurts, and unveils the sources of his insecurities.

Your big cowboy falls asleep with his face buried in your neck, and he's still there when you wake up. It's the third time he's stayed in bed and didn't go to work, but it's the first time he's chosen to stay. Usually, it's a physical injury that forces him to stay down, but this is an injury you can't see. A fracture in who he is, broken after a lifetime of increasing pressure that he never stood a chance against.

He follows you into the kitchen, no longer trying to conceal the limp in his left foot as he tries his best to help you cook breakfast. You don't know where his appetite came from, but you've never seen him meekly ask if he can make himself more fried eggs.

It's only after that he remembers the argument about how you got a job offer that would take you a few states away. Out of Wyoming and away from him. But it's your dream job, and it hurts to see Rhett's bottom lip wobble as he weakly tells you to go for it. Dreams come first, after all.

Like many things, he doesn't know what to think when you tell him your dream has changed. You want him to come with you. Leave this flyover town, find a job that doesn't ask the world of him, and share a cute little house with you somewhere in the countryside. He doesn't get why you'd want it with him, but fuck if that isn't the one thing he's always wanted.

Royal thinks that Rhett's lighter attitude is because of his recent decision to move in with you. Cecelia already knows what Rhett's up to without needing to be told.

It takes a year for you to move. Just after you lock your front door for the last time, Cecelia's car appears in the driveway. Neither of you can figure out how she knew you two were moving out today, but she's brought a box of things that her youngest deserves to have. Pictures, his first belt buckle, that first cellphone that got drowned in the kitchen sink, and a freshly knitted blanket. A housewarming gift. She says it's good luck for a couple to have one and to not hesitate to call if you need anything.

That blanket sits on the back of the couch in your new living room. Rhett only curls up with it when he's feeling homesick, which had might as well be the entirety of the first six months in this new house. He finds a job at a local ranch, is lucky enough to have his beloved horse shipped out to stay there, and slowly, his true colors start to bleed through.

Or maybe they were always there, simply dulled by the exhaustion that once seemed to permanently sit in his weary bones.

Because his smile reaches his eyes more often, and his prescription painkillers have long since expired. His body a touch softer, the result of a rediscovered appetite, and he reaches for you more than he does a can of beer. Gripings about his father are replaced by laughter that echoes down the hall. He's still got that limp, but he chases you up the stairs quicker than he used to. Those gaudy belt buckles never leave, and never do you. Always there when he comes home from work, ready to meet him for his favorite welcome-home kiss.

Rhett will never be the son Royal asked for, but he will always be the man you've dreamed of.

And he's more than enough.

#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups #delgato's thinking #tw food #tw alcohol

[delopsia]

With how dedicated and passionate Rhett is about bull riding, can you even imagine how crazy he would be about you when you two get together? The pictures, bringing you up in every conversation, the gifts, the amount of attention this love-starved cowboy would drown you in?

You forgot to get something at the store? Don't move, he'll get it on his way to your place. No, no, don't pay him back, it's fine.

Want him to come over? He's jumping around the kitchen, pulling his boots on, and rushing out the door. He'll be there before you can get off the phone.

Date night? You're not paying for a damn thing. He's opening doors for you, burning your favorite music onto a CD because his truck doesn't have an AUX cord, bringing blankets if you get cold on those Wyoming nights. His hair is freshly washed, he's broken out the cologne, cleaned the dirt out of his nails, that flannel is ironed, and the only reason he didn't shave was because you once said you liked the scruffy look on him.

Need help with Holiday decor or getting your winter clothes out? He's here like he's being paid to do it, doesn't care how strong you say you are, you ain't touchin' that there box of sweaters.

You gave him something? He's physically welded to it. The chest at the foot of his bed is filled with items you've given him, delicately wrapped in cloth so it doesn't break.

Want to show him off to your friends? Take him to a company event? He's not fond of venturing into new situations, but he's bumbling along behind you, glued to your side. He will loop a finger into your belt loop, or hold onto the strap of your bag to keep himself from losing you.

Left your clothes with him? Well, he'd wash them before giving them back if he weren't actively snuggling up to your sweater at night because it still smells like you, and he can't sleep without you :( It gets so bad that you two bought blankets to swap back and forth, so you always have a little bit of each other in bed.

And it's the strangest fucking thing for his family to witness because he couldn't give a damn about any of things if it were anyone else. Cecelia can't even get him to visit a church lunch, and here he is following you to the restaurant in town that he can't stand because you wanted to go. He doesn't enjoy gifts from other people; if Perry asks him to meet at the Pit Bar, Rhett takes three hours to get around to it.

He's not a very social man who much prefers to live in the country, and yet he will move to the city and share an apartment with fifteen people if that's what you ask of him. He doesn't speak much, but he will badger his momma's ear off about you.

Everyone expects for it to wear off as time goes by. Once the honeymoon phase is over, he'll fade back into his usual self, and maybe he does take five minutes longer to get ready these days, but he's just like that. Dedicated to and in love with everything about you until the day he dies. He's completely and utterly wrapped around your finger, and he has no plans of ever changing that.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

The way that Rhett just has so much odd shit on him at all times.

On your first date, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hunk of jasper. In the middle of a store, he reached into his shoe and pulled out a broken ruler; said something about forgetting that he put it there and meant to throw it away. Your friend was musing about how ridiculous coin collecting is, and he, for some reason, had a rare penny lurking in his shirt pocket.

More than once, you've turned around and caught him chewing on something he didn't have before. Boiled peanuts, hard candy, gum. He'll offer you some, but it's always warm from being snug against his body all day. At an obscure diner outside of Wabang, Rhett suddenly pulled a gift card out. He'd been carrying it for two years by that point, and he's still got it because there's a dollar and some change left on it.

There's a packet of salt that came in handy when you were given the blandest fries the earth has ever seen. Amy gave him a charm when she was three, and he's still carrying it around. He's got a key that goes to something on the ranch, but nobody remembers to what. You forgot a bracelet in his truck and only realized he had it when you saw it around his wrist. For safekeeping, he said.

You found a little pony figurine in the grass, and it spent a month riding in his shirt pocket until it jumped out and briefly became lost. Now, it sits on a shelf in the bedroom. Amongst all the other trinkets that have spent time hauling around with your beloved cowboy.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #tw food #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Thinking about how Rhett gets so overwhelmed with affection that he winds up chewing on you.

Carefully nibbling on your fingers when they ghost past his lips, holding one between his teeth, guiding himself up to mouth at the side of your palm. Toying at your collar when he's kissing down your chest. Hugging you from behind and teasing the thin skin of your neck or bothering the shell of your ear until you wave him off.

It's never anything more than a soft pressure, enough for you to feel the grooves of his teeth but not enough to hurt you. The scrape of his unshaven face is harsher than his bite, dragging across your skin with every affectionate nibble.

#i had to get it out of my head #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups #rhett abbott

[delopsia]

In love with the idea of kissing the cut on Rhett's nose.

Initially, Rhett doesn't think a whole lot about it. Cecelia fusses about it scarring, but he's not all that worried; he's got a myriad of other scars, several of them with far worse stories. This one is nothing in comparison, just a scrape from Perry's ring when that fight broke out in the kitchen.

The first time you lay eyes on that minuscule little cut, it's a day old and the last damn thing on Rhett's busy mind. He hardly notices you asking about it, only mutters its origin when you curl your hands around his rough cheeks. He's up in his head again when you lean in and press a kiss to the mark.

When you press your lips to it again after the rodeo, he thinks it's from the excitement of him confessing that he wants to leave town with you.

But then you kiss it again in the aftermath of the bison running his truck off the road. Another time, when you fall into the sheets of a cheap hotel in the morning when he's working on his truck. Again, when he admits he already misses his family. He loses count after you get carried away during a movie, peppering his freshly shaven face with so many kisses that he can't help but dissolve into a fit of giggles.

It heals within the week, leaving behind a scar, just like his momma predicted. A bright pink mark that, by summer, has faded into a thin white line.

Life hasn't changed all that much; he hasn't left Wabang, but he shares a home with you now, and that's more than enough. He may have won last year's rodeo, but he's already competing again, chasing that PBR pipedream while you cheer him on from the stadium. The dent in the truck is fixed, the wood under the billboard is still marred, and insurance has yet to believe him about the apocalyptic bison situation.

Most of all, you still kiss that mark. Rhett's so used to it that he's learned to tilt his head without being prompted to give you better access. Welcome home and goodbye kisses, just because, to ease the tension after a fight and in the heated excitement of a winning ride. In the odd case you forget, he's leaning in to nudge you with his nose until you give him his honorary smooch.

And when he steps out from under the blinding stadium lights, dirt clinging to his boots and a fresh mark on his jaw, courtesy of a bull's horn, he knows exactly what new habit is about to form.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Rhett, who forgets how big he is and keeps accidentally smothering you. Rolling on top of you in bed and damn near crushing you in the process, suddenly draping himself across your back and accidentally taking you both to the floor. Running up to you after winning the rodeo and slamming into you like he's playing in the NFL, getting pouty when he realizes his shoulders are too big for him to squeeze into your clothes. He can't help it; he just gets so lost in the moment that he forgets he's a giant wall of hard muscle and bone.

But you make it work. He learns to straddle your hips when he rolls over onto your chest in the morning and to give you a warning when he decides to lean his weight on you. The excited slamming of his body against yours never ends, but you find a brand of clothing you can share. More than once, you catch Rhett in town, snug as can be in one of your shirts. Happiest cowboy in the west 🐂

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #the warmup got a little odd today #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Rhett has never really gotten the whole Valentine's thing.

You noticed it the first February you spent together; he'd been tilting his head at the endless pink and red aisles, quietly asking you what the point of it all was. Why give chocolates and plushes on a specific day when you can do it year-round? What's so special about it all?

He says all that as if he doesn't participate in it, too. Bringing you plushes of adorable animals holding little red hearts, sweets and flowers, and anything else that reminded him of you. He may not understand it, but he's not about to let his feelings cause him to miss out on spoiling you with your favorite things.

This year, though, you've got an idea.

With the recent hustle and bustle around the ranch he's working at, Rhett hasn't been home as much as usual. And when he is, those pretty eyes are so damn sleepy that he's got no energy to look around and notice where you've begun stashing things.

A bottle of champagne because every time he sees it in the store, he wonders what it tastes like. Variety chocolates, too many boxes of candy hearts, a bath gift set because he's always bugging you to take a bath together. Chocolate-covered pretzels, cookies, and handmade candies from the little shop that just opened in town. Best of all, you've gotten your hands on a pink masturbation sleeve. So well colored that it practically disappears once you've tucked everything into the basket, tied off with a long red ribbon.

Rhett heads out the door before dawn on Valentine's Day, leaving you with his traditional kiss on the forehead and a small bundle of goodies on the bedside table, ready for you to find them when your eyes open. It's full of all your usual favorites, topped off with an oversized plush of a strawberry cow. He must have kept it hidden in his clothes because when you hug it to your chest, it smells like him.

His eyes were hardly open when he left the house, and they're much of the same when he stumbles through the front door sometime after seven, calling your name as he toes off his boots. The only reason he notices the rose petals and candles scattered across the floor, is because one of his shoes fell off the rack.

He's not entirely sure what to think. Poking at the tiny, battery-powered candles with his foot as he follows the trail you've created for him. Still calling out your name, unsure as to why you have yet to show yourself.

It's the basket that gets him to stop in his tracks. Adorably placed in the center of the bed, right next to your brand-new cow. Virtually silent as he shifts the items inside, a grin sprawling across his face as he takes in all of the things you've gathered for him.

Soft hands appear on his waist, leading the way as your arms wrap around him, "Happy Valentine's Day, cowboy."

"Y' got all this fer me?" He's already toying with one of the chocolates, trying his best to conceal the excitement that rushes through his system.

And so far, he hasn't noticed his new toy.

"Mhm," pressing your lips to the back of his neck.

You knew he would open that bath set first, sleepy eyes flickering between you and the bathroom as if to ask for one more gift. So what if you've already got the water good and warm, ready to go the moment you turn it back on? It's just a coincidence.

It's been a minute since you've watched him peel off his shirt, pale skin bearing a few more bruises than normal. A scattering of blue and purple across his ribs from the unbridled rage of a particularly fussy heifer. Green and yellow spots on his thighs, with an origin he doesn't quite recall, but lets you kiss them regardless.

The water is absurdly pink, and if you'd known there was glitter in this bath bomb, you would have chosen a different set. You'll be sparkling for weeks. But you've already settled into it; Rhett is situating his back against your chest, head resting against yours, and you can't bring yourself to complain. Especially not when he dares to bite into a nondescript chocolate, nose wrinkling as he realizes it's filled with artificial cherry.

"Ain't even the good kind," he grumbles, tossing it toward the trash bin. For once, his aim is perfect.

But his disappointment is short-lived. Cut short by the lips that appear on his naked shoulder, the bad one that never truly recovered from his rodeo wreck. Guiding yourself up the side of his neck, drinking in his pretty groan as his mouth meets with yours, albeit strained from the angle.

Your hands roam across his soft belly, daring to dip down to massage the insides of his thighs, just shy of his rapidly swelling cock. Rubbing up, up, up, to lightly trace your nails across his balls, then back down again. Those eyelashes are fluttering. Breathing a little quicker than he was before.

"Where did...where did you get..." stumbling over his own words, as your hand reaches off to the side and produces that little sleeve. Pale pink, textured on the inside, just opaque enough for you to see through it.

Getting lube on him while in the water is certainly a...process, but Rhett is so damn eager that he hardly seems to notice your struggle.

You know you've made a good decision when his hips buck up, water sloshing as he cries out, so surprised by the feel of this unassuming little toy. One of your hands splays out against his chest, holding him to you, can feel the way his heart jumps when you glide the toy across him again.

"Again," he babbles, pawing at your wrist, still pumping him, "do that, do that—hah!"

It's a wonder the water stays in the bath because he can hardly keep himself still. Squirming and involuntarily kicking his legs, clinging to your wrist one moment and squeezing the edge of the tub the next. Only manages to keep still when he's twisted and turned enough to jam his head into the crook of your neck, panting so heavily that he sounds like he's run a marathon.

You could string it out. Edge him until he can't hold back any longer, but the exhaustion in his bones suggests he can't take any more pushing this week. So when he starts whimpering about being close, begging and begging you to let him cum, you do. Marveling at the sight of his head tilting, eyes falling shut as he cums with a cry that echoes all throughout the house.

By the time you get him into bed, he's as limp as a damn noodle. Struggling to keep himself upright, damn near falling into the sheets the moment he's close enough. The only reason he doesn't fall asleep when his head hits the pillow is because he's too busy waiting for you to settle into his arms.

Then he falls asleep in the middle of his thank you. And maybe he's starting to get the point of this whole Valentine's thing because you wake up to the feeling of him kissing your thighs late in the morning. Smooches punctuated with lazy mutterings about how he wishes Valentine's Day lasted a whole week rather than just one day.

He makes the festivities last for an entire seven days, that's for sure.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #tw food #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

What it feels like to date Lewis Pullman's characters, but it's described using specific experiences.

Ingredients: ✰ Robert "Bob" Floyd, Rhett Abbott, Miles Miller, Major Major, and Harrison Knott. Warning: Contains mentions of food and vague PTSD references.

Robert "Bob" Floyd: Stuttered hello's and gazes trained on the floor. Sneaking out of social events in favor of quiet walks on the beach that end in being chased by an upset crustacean. The strum of a guitar as he plays you your favorite song. Shy smiles and binging movies. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch and gradually scooting closer until someone works up the nerve to rest their head on the others shoulder. Afternoon naps together and dramatic yawns until the other gets the idea.

Foggy glasses, niche fandom references, and inside jokes only you understand. Matching necklaces and otter plushes. Date nights to aquariums and zoos and sanctuaries. Borderline swearing and giggling at his poorly swapped words because he's afraid to say 'fuck'. Sharing embarrassing stories to cheer each other up. Always walking hand in hand. Kisses on cheeks and bear hugs that nearly swallow you whole.

Rhett Abbott: Wayward glances from across the bar and taking his hat off when he introduces himself to you. Spurs jingling as he walks you to his truck and him running ahead to hold the door for you. Watching him search for you in the crowd. Adrenaline-filled kisses that knock you off your feet. Greedily squeezing his biceps and hoping he doesn't catch onto you. Splitting gas station snacks and stopping by to see you while he's running errands. Kissing his bruised knuckles after a bar fight.

Putting his hat on your head and watching the way his eyes darken. Late-night drives and horseback rides across the ranch. Late-night conversations in the bed of his truck. A scruffy cheek squishing against yours to make you laugh. Dancing in the light of his headlights. Staying up late to listen to the thunderstorm rage on. Sleeping on each other's chests and stories about old scars. Matching necklaces and cowboy hats.

Miles Miller: Batting his eyelashes at you and forgetting to say hello. Glances out of corners of eyes and panicking when your eyes meet. Covering his ears during holiday fireworks and shaky hugs after an unexpected loud noise. Matching rings when you start dating. Carnival dates, stealing bites of each other's snacks, and buying a plushie from the store because neither of you could win the games. Sharing books and cozy sweaters. Rubbing your noses together when even kisses feel like too much for him to handle.

Pressing cold feet against each other in bed and giggling when the other yelps. Dissolving into tears over kisses against scars and bearing painful insecurities, all for the other to see. Sucking on butterscotch and seeing who can blow the biggest bubblegum bubble. Open-mouthed kisses across skin and whispering the things you love about each other. Snuggling him because he drank a milkshake, knowing his tummy would get upset later.

Major Major: Lingering glances at each other's lips, heads gravitating closer and closer, too shy to make the first move. Brushes of his hand against yours while you walk together. Knick knacks left on the dash of your car and in the crevices of your home, made just for you. Blurted Iloveyou's and frantic text messages that ask you on a date and the immediate panic that ensues. Him always seeking permission before touching you. Unprovoked compliments and nearly fleeing the room after.

Wide-eyed kisses. Shaky apologies for the hands that have landed on your waist. Matching sock collections and joining him on the floor when he's too nervous to get in bed with you. A handmade ship in a bottle with two little stick-men that resemble you and him. Fingers walking across naked skin. Fighting each other with action figures and fake swords. Toying with your fingers and his jaw dropping every time he lays eyes on you.

Harrison Knott: Being late to your destination and running right smack into each other. Frantic apologies after telling a really bad joke. Sand in your clothes and owning too many sandals to count. Custom Spotify playlists, homemade cassette mix tapes, and collecting CDs at yard sales. Taking polaroids of each other on dates and swearing at the seagulls who snatch your food from your hands. Shameless matching outfits.

Sitting in his lap at a bonfire and feeling his eyes rake over your frame the entire time. Sticking bows from gifts on each other. Deep sea fishing and getting seasick midway through. Him rolling on top of you to keep you from getting up in the morning. Late night skinny dipping and falling into the backseat. Big hands drawing you in for kisses when the whole world is watching.

#dont ask how i got here #rhett abbott #miles miller #harrison knott #major major #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #rhett abbott x reader #miles miller x reader #harrison knott x reader #major major x reader #delgato's warmups #tw food mention #tw ptsd #<- if you squint but <3

[delopsia]

Thinking about how, early in your relationship, you joked with Rhett by telling him to send you a picture after he got out of the shower. And Rhett, not being able to tell if it was sarcasm or not and not really caring, did just that. Sending you a half-thought-out photo of himself in the bathroom mirror, the fog crudely wiped away by his hand.

A perfect image of that white towel hanging loosely from his hips, water dripping from the ends of his curls and down his broad chest. Perfectly showing off that bull tattoo and the gentle dip of his abdomen. One of his hands is rubbing a towel at the side of his head, his nose scrunched as he tries to focus on drying his hair and taking a photo with his other hand.

Does he expect it to affect you as much as it does? No, but there's something in your reaction that has him doing it again the next time he takes a shower. And it's the best and worst thing he's ever done because every single photo is a treat, but as time goes on, those photos start growing bolder.

Towel dipping lower and lower until you open your phone at the grocery store to find a photo of Rhett, fresh out of the shower, leaned against the wall, one hand on his phone and the other around his cock, accompanied by a message suggesting that you to stop by the ranch while his folks are out for the evening.

So now you're at the grocery store for the second time today, waddling by the cart while Rhett helps you finish your shopping.

All because of some post-shower photos that got out of hand.

#i need to be muzzled #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's thinking #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Rhett's truck is so damn loud. It's not even something he's done to it intentionally; she's just loud because she wants to be loud.

You can hear him coming down the road long before you can see him. He has to shut it off when y'all order at a drive-thru, and no matter how loud the radio blares, you can always hear its soft purr in the background.

The best part about it is when you lose him at the rodeo, he doesn't carry his phone out of fear of losing it, and it makes locating him nearly impossible. All he's gotta do is get it running, and you can follow the sound of that old Sierra until you find him. It's foolproof, and without fail, you'll always find him leaned against the side, waiting to shower you with kisses and rub his dirty cheek against yours.

#rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

You know something is wrong when you wake to the sound of him in the bathroom at half past six. A full hour after he's supposed to be out the door and off to work.

The front door is ajar, and his boots lay scattered about the floor as if he's kicked them off in his rush back into the house. His phone still sits on the table, and his truck rumbles outside, the engine warm and ready to take on the day. But the cowboy who drives it isn't there.

You know that for certain because you can see his sock-covered foot through the crack in the bathroom door. He's curled himself around the toilet, sweaty cheek resting on his forearm, half-lidded eyes gazing into the water, unsure of whether his stomach is done churning or not.

"Rhett?" Your voice is nothing but a whisper, too loud in this quiet little room. And you'd worry that he didn't hear you if not for the hesitant lift of his gaze. Distant and unfocused, like he's left a portion of himself elsewhere.

It's a wonder that he's managed to dress himself, and even then, he's only been able to do so much. Has squeezed into those too-tight Wranglers but forgot to pick out a buckle to snap onto his belt, and you're fairly certain the t-shirt clinging to him is the same one he wore to bed.

"'m okay," he croaks, tone so gravelly that you hardly believe it's coming from him at all. But his stomach seems to have a different opinion, because he's lurching toward the toilet in a matter of moments.

The only thing you can do is gather his hair into your hands and hold it back. His skin burns with an invisible wildfire, damp with a thin sheen of sweat, and he feels even warmer when you flatten the back of your palm against his forehead.

And yet, your big, dumb cowboy is reaching for his hat that, at some point or another, wound up in the bathtub and tries to place it on his head. It should be muscle memory, and yet, he places it too far forward, entirely covering his eyes.

Pinching the brim, you tilt it back, peering into those barely-there blues, "You're sick, cowboy."

"No 'm not," there's the tiniest shred of insistence in his tone, the most he can manage. God, how did he even get out to his truck like this?

Your head shakes, "you can't go to work like this."

And despite his slow tipping forward, unable to stop himself from collapsing into your arms, he still seems to think that he's fine. He can still make it to work. This will wear off come sunrise.

But the sun is already peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with hues of yellow, orange, and gold. Far too bright for your gloomy cowboy to look at, covering his eyes when it peeks through the blinds. Still insists that he'll grab his truck keys and head out in a few minutes and doesn't believe that he's already got it running until after you return with them in your hand.

"Whaddaya mean?" He's gotten himself to his feet, but he's long since slouched against the wall. Doesn't seem to have realized that he's doing it, either. "I didn't...I..."

It's the tripping over his own feet that finally draws him back to bed. Snuggling beneath the covers, small trash can next to the bedside table, just in case. His nose wrinkles when you feed him some medicine, damn near turns green when you ask if he wants any crackers or tea.

This is the first time you've seen him genuinely sick; in the past, it's only ever been allergies and the slightest bit of food sickness, but somehow, you already know exactly how he's going to act.

Clingy.

He insists on snuggling on top of you, and when his belly grows too uncomfortable for that position, he's on his side, wedged into the gap below your chin. Sleep comes to him in bits and pieces, cut short by nausea and the scratchiness in the back of his throat.

Come noon, his stomach grumbles for something that he's not entirely sure he can keep down. But you wander into the kitchen to make him a bowl of chicken noodle soup, and soon, that scent draws him out. Still looks a little uneasy, as he rests on the couch, quietly watching you work. Eating isn't exactly the most pleasant experience; his body screams at him to eat, but his stomach isn't so keen on the whole idea.

He lays on the couch with his head in your lap until the nausea subsides, then meekly meets your eye and asks if that offer to make tea still stands.

It does.

And as soon as he's had his fill, you're guiding him into the bath before drowsiness can take hold of him. You're initially trying to stay outside the tub, but one way or another, you wind up in there with him, washing the soap from his hair and massaging those bulky shoulders. He does his best to return the favor, running the cloth over your skin, but he's moving so slowly that he might as well not be doing anything at all.

He frowns when he catches himself leaning in for a kiss. Finds this whole 'spreading germs' thing to be cruel and unusual punishment. Brightens when you fold and kiss him anyway. He was certainly contagious yesterday, and with the way you were all over him, there's no way you haven't caught what he's got.

Watching movies on the couch ends in sleeping against one another, and moving yourselves to bed leaves you wide awake and watching videos on your phones.

Come morning, you wake to the damning sensation of a stuffy nose and a churning stomach. Rhett finds you sometime after you've stumbled into the bathroom, kissing your cheek as he tells you that he's already called off work.

Reheating soup comes in the form of leaning against each other in front of the stove, waiting for it to boil. You finish those movies and fall asleep amidst the next one. Washing each other in the shower, swaying back and forth, uncoordinated and clumsy, like it's your first day on Earth.

You know he's feeling better when he tugs you out the front door for a sunset drive under the guise of getting snacks and clearing your heads. Come morning, you'll feel his stubble scratch your cheek as he leaves a kiss there with a whispered, "I love you."

Rhett doesn't get sick very often, but oh, when he does...

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's moodboards #delgato's warmups #tw vomit #<- its a really vague mention but i felt the need to tag

[delopsia]

The best rodeos are the ones on cold autumn nights. When the air is crisp and warm as the sun sets, gradually plummeting into a chilly night, the sharp teeth of the wind nipping at your exposed skin. The kind of cold where you can see your own breath fanning out in front of your face, and Rhett's trusty truck blanket can only do so much to ward it off.

It's nipping at him, too. Bouncing up and down on his heels, arms folded up against his vest-clad chest, clinging to whatever warmth he's got left. But then he's climbing onto the back of a thousand-pound bull, beaten down by the golden stadium lights and the kindling flame that is his own body. Muscles flexing, fighting to stay on as the bull twists and bucks, never has more than two feet on the ground at a time.

He could barely feel his own fingers when he climbed into the chute, but when the buzzer sounds and his feet hit the dirt of the arena, he's on fire.

The rodeo is far from over, but as far as the arena is concerned, his ride is done, and there's no point in keeping him cooped up among the riders who haven't had their moment in the spotlight yet. So off he goes, wriggling out of his vest in his rush to get up into the stands.

You never know when he's coming, but the giggles from the buckle bunnies in front of you never fail to give him away. Taking two stairs at a time spurs clinking with every step, chaps and all. Whether it be the rush of a big win or the lull of a loss, he's only ever thinking about one thing.

Wrapping you up in his arms and rubbing his rough, dirty cheek against yours. Grinning from ear to ear at your squeal for him to cut it out. But you can't entirely complain because these nights are the ones where Rhett is the warmest. He's a rough and tough cowboy promoted to the prestigious position of teddy bear, hugging you close and warding off the wind like a massive wall.

He loves to keep an arm looped around your waist as you head to the truck. Beckons you to sit in the middle of the bench seat and rubs your thigh with his palm as the heat begins to kick on.

And, of course, there's always time to warm up even more once you start unbuttoning his shirt 🌷

#delgato's warmups #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader

[delopsia]

It's officially calving season.

That time of year when Wabang starts to see the slightest bit more sun, and your beloved cowboy begins spending a little extra time at the ranch. It's not his fault; between tagging calves and looking after the little ones who were rejected by their mommas, his time simply gets eaten up.

But it's not all bad. Rhett makes up for his absence by sending you a photo of every calf that sets foot on the ranch. They're not supposed to have names, but you give each of them one, anyway.

Saturdays become a day of cozying up to him in the barn while you help feed one of the orphaned calves from a bottle. About once a week, he comes home unusually early because most of the calves are born the moment his back is turned.

And then, every once in a while, your phone will ding with a slightly different message.

Rhett, up in a tree, waiting on an angry momma to quit trying to steamroll him. It usually lasts a few minutes at best, but more than once, you've called him sometime later to find that he was still up in the damn tree. His horse has wandered off, grazing in the field, and Perry won't help until he gets at least a hundred photos out of the situation.

Rhett always comes home grumbling about how ridiculous his job is, greets you with a kiss, and hops into the shower to scrub the leaves from his hair. So long as you can hear the water running, you'll be cozied up in the corner of the couch, giggling at the video Perry sent, of Rhett up in that damn tree.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's warmups

[delopsia]

Still stuck thinking about how, after the wedding, Bobby decides to get your and Rhett's favorite flowers tattooed on his hips. It's supposed to be a surprise, but the night before, he winds up telling his own secret because he's afraid of going alone. Squeezing your hand when the tattoo needle touches his skin for the first time. Rolling his eyes when Rhett teases him for getting worked up over nothing.

They're simple little things, two or three inches long at most, your flower on his right hip and Rhett's on the left one, but for Robert I-Don't-Do-Tattoos Floyd, it's a lot.

He's fine until the waistband of his sweats rubs across the sensitive skin afterward, sucking in a sharp breath and squeezing his eyes shut. In fact, he spends the next week and a half wearing nothing but boxers and soft shorts. It's hard for you and Rhett to resist grabbing greedy handfuls of his ass; it's right there.

And he whines so, so much when you gently massage lotion into those flushed red spots. A little bit sore and incredibly distracted by how you felt the need to get down on your knees to do this.

The markings are sensitive to the touch for the longest time, but Rhett figures out that his lips are softer than his hands are. Sends Bobby into a fit of giggles when he peppers the little flowers with kisses for the first time. Even when they no longer hurt, it's still customary to love on them every time you can.

He always hums when a wary finger traces across them, lashes fluttering, so content with the feeling that he nearly forgets what he was doing.

The tattoos are low enough to hide beneath his waistband, and for the longest time, you and Rhett are the only ones aware of their existence. He has no shame in them, but when his shorts ride too low during a game of dogfight football, and Jake loudly asks if that's a tattoo on his hip, he turns cherry red.

It was Nat who affectionately began to call him Rosehips, a little inside joke between the group that slowly leaked into the household. Rhett loves to say it in playful greeting; you murmur it in between kisses down his belly; it's his name in at least four contact lists, and he's teetering wildly close to it becoming a secondary callsign.

The name never gets out of his close-knit groups. Some folks have taken to calling him by it, but the meaning behind the name has yet to fall upon the wrong ears. Less than a dozen people know about the dainty flowers decorating his hips, and he's more than content to keep it that way.

It's been four years, and Maverick still can't figure out why the hell everyone keeps calling Bob 'Rosehips'. Since when did roses have hips?

#bob floyd #rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #delgato's warmups #hawthorn au

[delopsia]

Every once in a while, Bobby wakes up on the metaphorical wrong side of the bed. It's odd; he can have a completely normal week, and then one day, he opens his eyes and finds that his spirits have plummeted from the clouds and landed in the gutter. There's no true reason for it; it's just one of those things.

He doesn't want to drag himself out of bed, but your alarm will go off in an hour, and Rhett's already in the room. Fully dressed and ready for work, coming in to give his goodbye kisses. One on your forehead and one on Bob's bitten lips. Alas, there's no point in staying home when his biggest comforts will be gone by nine.

The coffee maker seems to take a few minutes longer than it usually does, his shoelace has a knot in it that has him swearing under his breath as he tries to undo it, and there's always that one car that has to pull out in front of him at the very last minute. Every little thing, the slightest remark from a coworker, has the little voice in his head griping.

By the time he gets home, he's entirely over it, craving to let go of everything and start afresh come morning. But his metaphorical hands are welded in place. No matter how long he sits there and tries, he can't let go.

But there is one thing that works without fail, and he's just in luck. Rhett's truck is rumbling up the driveway.

His favorite cowboy is in the house for all of thirty seconds before Bob jumps on him. Taking them both down to the floor, Rhett's giggling like music to his ears as they wrestle to see who comes out on top. Bobby can see a perfect opening to come out on top; he's got the footing to flip them over. All he needs is to tickle his fingers up Rhett's sides, and he'll have the upper hand, but that isn't what he wants.

No. Instead, he's batting his eyes and admitting defeat as he rolls himself upward. It's one of those rare days when he lets Rhett pick him up and put him against the wall, legs coiled around his hips, arms clinging to those broad, thick shoulders.

Rhett figured Bob out a long time ago. He gets into moods that only resolve themselves when his control is taken away, but he also doesn't like having to ask. So, instead, he goes out of his way to provoke you and Rhett into taking it from him. Intentionally gets under your skin and initiates things, only to turn around and give up the lead rope as soon as he can.

Fortunately for all involved, Rhett loves to take advantage of this rare side of Bobby. Carrying him up to the bedroom, making a big show of his muscles as he unbuttons his flannel, drags it out until he hears your car pulling into the garage. The sight you walk in on never fails to nearly knock you off your damn feet.

Bob's laid out on his belly, cheek squished into his folded arms, hips held high by a pillow. Rhett's between his legs. Has one hand pressed firm at the small of his back, pushing the tip of himself into Bobby's cute little ass, refusing to give him anything more. Wriggling backward just gets Bobby a sharp smack against his ass, still pink from the last reminder, and it's the most frustrating, wonderful thing he's felt in weeks.

But right as he pipes up to say hello to you, Rhett finally starts sinking further inside, and his words are interrupted with a whimper, legs kicking behind him. It's easy for the three of you to fall into place. Taking turns with him, Rhett peels off the condom and nudges himself past Bob's lips, guiding him by his hair while you push your strap back into him.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks, choking as Rhett's cock hits the back of his throat, muffling his whimpers as you pass over his prostate. It's not until Rhett hauls him up and kisses him that you really hear how loud he's gotten. Unable to close his mouth, babbling nonsense about wanting more and more and more. It takes one pump of your hand to have him cumming, making a damn mess of the sheets, but it's not enough. It's still not enough.

At some point, you tucker out. Skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, body too damn tired to go another round, and Bob's still mouthing at your neck. It's all Rhett can do to push into him again, Bob's tear-stricken face buried in your belly as Rhett fucks him, panting like a dog.

Your gentle hand guides him through a second orgasm, and the feeling of Rhett cumming in him is enough to take him down a notch for a little while. But he's not truly rung out until he's taken again in the shower. Fucked on your fingers and Rhett's too-thick cock until his knees buckle out from under him.

He's too worn out to move, and that's exactly what he was craving. Nuzzling up to you on the couch afterward, snug in one of Rhett's t-shirts. It's a little strange to see him without his glasses, and he can't exactly see anything within a few feet of him, but he's content.

He'll talk about it sometime tomorrow, come morning he'll be red in the face and limping around the house, finding his past actions a little bit silly. But today, all he wants is to forgo the sound of his own voice and bask in this sleepy, rundown state you two have put him into.

His morning may have started horribly, but as long as he's in your and Rhett's arms, he's guaranteed to have a wonderful night.

#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #hawthorn au #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #rhett abbott #delgato's warmups