#rhett mclaughlin x reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diaryofassortedimagines · 26 days

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country music

rhett mclaughlin x reader

warnings: smut, road head/car sex, exhibitionism, cock warming, rough sex, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, public sex, rhett is so flirty, exaggerated country drawl and occasional southern slang (not a warning it’s just hot), dom/sub, switch!reader, switch!rhett, chubby/curvy!reader, rhett is an ass man, pwop, rhett sings

a/n: i’m back, baby! didn’t rly check for typos so sorry

You hated country music. Those piercing melodies and twangy, crackling voices were unbearable for you. Cutting your ears like dozens of tiny, thin blades. Worse yet, nearly every country song you hear talks about the same shit—Beer, tractors, farms, infidelity. It was infuriating to you. And yet, here you were, stuck in the middle of a sweaty country music festival. All because your best friend didn't wanna go alone, and you just had to be BFF of the year. She was having a wonderful time. You, on the other hand, were not. Those damned boots were digging into your skin and you were constantly being grazed and pushed by girls in pink cowboy hats and boys in riding boots. Everything about this situation was miserable.

"How much longer do we have to say here, Alyssa?" Your friend sneered at you.

"What? You're not enjoying the music and the deep fried mac and cheese?" You were not. You tried to pretend to, but you felt like you were at conservative Coachella.

Your nerves seemed to calm when the music stopped and there was a short break, only to light back up again when you heard the first voice of the night you didn't dread. The voice had the undeniable twang and drawl of every other artist, but was overlayed a soft, gentle quality. Amazingly, it was pleasant. You almost liked it. A smile crept on your face as Alyssa raised an eyebrow at you.

"Y/N, you're enjoying this one aren't you?" She snapped you out of your daze, and with a scoff you asked yourself the same question. You were enjoying this one, weren't you? Everything you stood for in music started to crumble. But Alyssa couldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Oh, please! I'm agonized. He sounds awful, and I mean look at him, he's--oh"

Stunning.

He was stunning. The demeaning sentence you planned fell apart when you swiveled around in your constrictive boots. You sure were glad you looked at him.

"Oh hon, I have been."

So maybe country music wasn't so bad. Maybe you even liked it a little bit. When it was him singing, perhaps country music wasn't the worst genre in the world. Twang and drawl was quite nice, as long as it was falling from his drunken lips. Even the scenery of this barn yard disaster became beautiful now that he graced it's stage. You suddenly noticed just how big the moon was tonight, but only because it's light glazed his neatly bearded face and the shimmering of his glossy leather jacket. Thick, honey golden coils rolled just to shoulder length and framed his dauntingly beautiful face. A strong beard ridden jaw, deep set eyes, high cheekbones. A face fit for a God. His stature must have been a deceiving illusion, for there was no way he was as tall as he was. The mic barely reached his chin when stretched to it's highest setting, and as your eyes traveled up his body and his mic, his smile caught your eyes. Shiny teeth with sharp, pronounced canines that stretched out between the romantic words he sang to a devious, almost tempting smile. Villainous, and you found yourself begging for the man to take your lip between the teeth of that evil smile. For him to do vile, unspeakable things to you. His face was fit for a God, yes. But his smile, that, was the devil itself. That extreme height, hefty, masculine build and threateningly warm grin. Perhaps he was better fit for a beast.

No, he could never be a beast. Not with those welcoming eyes. Not with that heavenly voice. Not with those flexible, long fingers and the way they bend guitar strings to his will. He wasn't a god, and he wasn't a beast. At this point, you questioned whether he was even a man. He was unlike anything you'd ever seen before, and far beyond anything you ever could've imagined.

"As long as you're there, that's where I wanna be..."

The song came to a close, but his mouth stayed parted in a smile. He slung the guitar over his head and out it to his right, and you found yourself jealous of the instrument. How unfair that those strings got to be played by his thick fingers, and you didn't. You needed to be played with by him, too.

And then he spoke, his smooth speaking voice almost more beautiful as his singing voice.

"Thanks for lending an ear, everybody. That was a James and The Shame original, for the love I've yet to find."

'James' You thought. 'What a lovely name.'

And then he looked at you. He looked at you of all hundreds of people in the crowd.

And then he smiled.

And then you nearly collapsed. Starstruck by the man bathed in stage lights, you were frozen and so quickly became so needy for the mysterious man a hundred feet away on a ten foot stage. You'd be damned if this James wasn't in your bed, or you in is, by the end of the night. By the end of the night, you would most certainly feel ashamed.

He kept your eyes locked with his and he hopped off the stage and came towards you. The crowd enveloped him as you nearly lost him in it, only being able to keep track of him because of his height that towered over the rest of the crowd. Face hidden by shorter dancers, all you could see was the top of his head and indistinguishable hair. He kept coming towards you, and despite your nerves, you didn't dare move. You felt hunted, yet bubbling with anticipation of a man of such beauty searching for you. He was getting closer, and you didn't know whether to be scared or aroused.

Closer... and closer... and closer... and suddenly,

Too close.

He finally emerged from the crowd, and he was just too close. There was nothing in this world that could've ever prepared you for what you were met with when he stepped in front of you. The scent of whiskey, sweat, and tobacco overwhelmed you, his chest mere inches from your face and you could almost feel the heat of his skin. A tight, white v-neck clung to his sweat drenched figure and was just damp enough for the lightly defined lines of his pecs and abs to show through. You so badly wanted to look up to meet his gaze, but truly questioned if you could even bear it. Before you could even start, you felt a finger light your nerves ablaze as the figure tilted your head up and your heart skipped a beat when his eyes met yours.

"S'wrong darlin'? You look a little dazed. Oh, don't tell me y'didn't like the song, huh?"

Good god. That drawl, that 'darling', that condescending, playful tone, that goddamn smile.

"No, no! The song was lovely. It's just..." you paused to find your next word.

It's just that you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen and I can't die happy until I'm fucked by you.

"It's just that I'm a little tired." That was a lie. You finished your sentence with a complete lie, for you were wide awake.

"Bummer, 'was hoping to get a drink with ya. But if y'too tired, I suppose I could just mosey on home." He took a step back, and instinctively you took a step forward. "Oh gosh! With that reaction time you can't be too tired, now can you?" His voice was deep with demeaning, feigned surprise and he rested his hands on his jean clad hips.

"I suppose I'm not too tired. Not too tired for a drink." You would need it if you were gonna spend a night with this man. He beamed, and there were those shiny teeth again. This time, his smile wasn't so devilish. This time, it was inviting and warm. Familiar like peach cobbler. Despite the need for his fingers inside you, being held by him and sung to suddenly became just as appealing. Soft, wholesome, loving actions.

"Ah! Well aren't I just a lucky boy?"

"That you are, James." He chuckled.

"Rhett, actually. Rhett James and The Shame McLaughlin. Common mistake. An' who might you be?"

"Y/N. Nice to meet you." You extended a hand for him to shake, but instead, he took the opportunity to link your arm with his and pull you close to him, walking you safely through the crowd.

"An utter pleasure to meet you too, Y/N. Now tell, me what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

'Pretty girl'. He thinks you're a pretty girl.

"Huh? Sorry, what'd you say?" Rhett laughed at you yet again.

"'Said what're you doin' at this festival?"

"Oh! Y'know Rhett, I don't know either. I--" Realization and panic dawned on you as you stopped walking. "I'm here for a friend. A friend which I have lost now! Give me a moment, I'm sorry." You flipped your phone out from your pocket, planning to call Alyssa. Instead, you were met with a single text.

Have fun with The Shame, girl.

"Everythin' okay? You have that dazed look on your face. 'Miss that pretty smile you got when you looked at me before." How embarrassing that a mere look at him made you grin. "Ah, there it is. D'you even notice you did that when I look at you?"

No. Not at all.

"Of course I did. And yes, everything's fine. My friend found something to occupy herself."

"Good, gives us plenty of time." His voice was lined with mockery and suggestiveness, intentionally trying to drive you closer and closer to submission and desire. It was working. You tried to match his tone, but were failing miserably. Flirting usually came naturally to you, but apparently, Rhett James McLaughlin was your undoing.

"Time for what?"

"To get to know each other, of course. It's not so easy to do that at a loud festival like this. Now, how do you feel about getting in a strangers car to go meet him in a bar?"

"A stranger? Never. But you don't feel so strange."

"Y'feel quite nice, too, darlin. 'llow me to lead the way then."

The walk to his car was long and trudged with grass and mud. But you didn't care about that. You were more focused on how nice the conversation you were having was. Not to mention the firm grip he had on the right side of your hip so that your left side was pressed tight to him. Reaching the car was a bittersweet moment. Being alone with him in any capacity was enticing, but to feel his hand leave your hip and his body leave your side was saddening.

"Lemme get the door for ya, toots." Getting in the car was tempting, yes, but as he opened the door and kept his right hand on the handle, you saw an opportunity you couldn't resist.

Pumped up on adrenaline, you slammed the door shut and pushed him against it in one movement, hand now gripping the hem of his shirt. It took every ounce of bravery you had, for suddenly you couldn't even move. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and grinned down at you, brimming with lust and anticipation.

"Quite the initiative, love. I like that." he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and you suddenly realized you weren't fit to dominate a man like him. "That it? What, s'that all ya got? Hm?" You were only able to manage a nod. "Aw, sweet thing. I'll take care'f the rest, yeah?"

"Yeah." You muttered just loud enough for him to hear. He was quick take hold of the hand you once had on his shirt and pin it against the car door, swapping positions with you. His large body trapped your plush, curvy frame against the metal, his whole body pressed almost flat against yours. Finally his lips meant yours, and you felt hot and desperate and needy. It was heated and urgent, his hands roaming every bit of you; arms, hips, breasts, waist, ass, especially. Anything he could get his hands. This was a kind of and level of mutual lust you've never felt before or even knew existed. His rough beard scrubbed against your soft skin and the taste of his saliva mixing with yours was addictive. Strong hips grinded into yours as his tongue pushed its way past your lips and into your mouth, searching for something he was happy to never find. Moans and whimpers came from both of you as he grinded against you and gripped the fat of your ass.

"Good lord, toots, I need you." His voice was barely a whisper, but his hands were urgently dipping past your denim shorts and into your lace panties. Calloused fingers quickly finding that perfect spot and pulling you apart. Your head hit the back of the car window as you moaned louder than anticipated and gripped his arm. "Watch your head, darlin'. Gosh, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?" He was utterly entranced with the way your mouth parted so wide and the sweet sounds that came out of it. Sweet sounds that were all his doing.

"Rhe-Rhett, what if someone sees us?"

" Well, that'd be just fine. After all, it'd still be my fingers you ridin' and making you feel so good, wouldn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Use those words, pretty girl. Who's making you feel this good?"

All you could seem to manage was a whimper. A piteous, slutty whimper that progressed as his lips came to the crux of your ear to speak in a breathy whisper. "Did you not hear me the first time, hun? Who's making you feel this good?"

"Mphh! Ah, you, y-you are."

"That's right, sweet girl. 'Look so pretty ridin' my fingers." Between the nibbles on your neck, the dirty whispers in your ear and the rough fingers of a guitarists in your pussy, you felt yourself coming closer and closer by the second. Hands entangled in his hair, you forgot where you were and tipped your head back in a loud, revealing moan. "Ah ah ah, quiet now sugar. Weren't you the one worried about getting caught?"

"I-I can't h-help it—mphh!"

"It's okay, sweetheart. Go ahead, cum on my fingers." As if by only his request, you came the second he commanded, knees trembling and only being supported by Rhett as he caught you. Your self respect melted as you watched his fingers come to his lips to lick your juices off with a delighted groan. In an instant, Rhett used one hand to open the door and the other hand to lift you into the back of the truck.

Hands tore at each others clothes as soon as he'd placed you gently on the car seat-quite literally, tore.

"Rhett! This shirt was expens—"

"Whatever, I'll buy ya a new one, for fucks sake jus' get this off." He groaned as he stumbled around the hook of your bra. At this point, the both of you were past the point of being smooth and romantic. Now, it was only pure, unadulterated lust and desire for the other. A passionate, almost aggressive arousal. "Them too.”

You weren't sure how exactly it happened, but in an instant, you were completely bare and his majestic hair was squeezed between your thighs.

Tongue darting out to lick a stripe against your folds, he drew a gasp from you and delighted in the way it grew into a silent moan as he drank you in. Sucking your clit with his chapped lips, drawing figure 8's with his tongue, occasionally dipping into your whole with his tongue.

"Taste' so good, darlin"" Shivers shot through your body as he spoke, moaned, and chuckled at your writhing against your core. He was just too good at that, too good at making you go insane and making you feel dazed out of reality. Your fingers gripped his thick curls as his fingers went into you, curling up and pumping at a torturous pace.

"God, Rhett, don't stop. I'm c-close-" You were seeing stars now, and as Rhett went harder on your clit you felt yourself finally unravel, gushing with liquid white gold. "You're s-so good at that. So good…”

"I hope you don't think we're done, darlin'. Haven’t even gotten the chance to get my cock in your pretty lil’ pussy, yet.” That same devious grin that drove you crazy was evident in his voice alone as his hand gripped your neck and pulled you forward, crashing your lips onto his. It was a nice, pleasant, tender change from before, although short lasted. You quickly found yourself roughly positioned in between the two front seats, arms resting on the console and ass towards him. He slapped your ass just hard enough to make you moan and leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"Still want this?" The answer was a resounding yes that you could only vocalize in an affirmative hum. "No, no, no, sweetheart. Needa hear those words."

"I need it. Please, God, I need it. For fucks sake just fuck me alre—" Rhett cut you off as he thrusted into you. He was so much thicker and longer than you'd expected that not even his previous finger was enough to prep you for it.

"Right there! Y-yes right there!"

"Fuck, you're so tight. Ah. Never hadda dick this big in ya, have ya?" His pace started slow, torturously slow. Scurvy knave wanted you to beg. He got what he wanted, of course, as you pushed yourself back against him.

"More... m-more, please. Faster..." His thrusts quickened so much, so fast as he leaned over you and supported himself on the dashboard, reaching forward with his other hand to switch the radio on.

He just had to ruin it. Country music. A brief part of you for a brief second was upset at that dreaded melody, but you were quick to forget it as Rhett fucked you into it. Music? Awful. Rhett's cock? Unbelievable. With each and every thrust, you found yourself loving country music more and more.

"C-close, baby. Your pussy was fuckin' made for me." He gave an out of character, submissive whimper that certainly didn't match his actions as he felt his stomach swirl and his muscles tense.

"M-me too." Those were the only coherent words you were able to intentionally get out.

Subconsciously, you whispered words of praise and pleasure, biting into the cars console as Rhett's pace matched the fast beat of the music.

"Y'gon' come for me, sweetheart? Do it, do it for me. With me." He reached around and under you to rub your clit, and the knot that had been tying tighter and tighter since you met his eyes finally unwrapped. Rhett followed as he felt your walls flutter around him. Pornographic, neutralized moans rang out from the both of you as you felt warm ribbons of his cum fill you up. He kept you tight in his arms, cock still in you, as he leant back and sat in the back seat with you on his lap.

"W-wait, Rhett. Were you wearing a condom?"

"Don't worry, I got the Brosectomy. Come back to my place for a few more rounds?" He laughed to himself, and although you didn't know what that meant, you did know one thing.

You loved country music.

—

part 2, mayhaps?

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