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tropes-and-tales · 5 months

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Mending Fences

Day 15: Virginity (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Childhood friends; yee-haw angst; idiots in love; pining; smut (PiV, protected and unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 6954

AN: This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anonymous type!

AN2: Believe me when I say this is not beta read and has not been edited at all. Shitty first drafts, all. Shitty first drafts foisted into publication.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

Wabang remains largely the same. Maria leaves town and Rhett despairs to have missed his chance. He throws himself into the ranch, into rodeo. He drinks. He scraps with the Tillersons.

Perry and Rebecca make him an uncle, which delights him. Royal makes his disappointment in his younger son no secret, which hurts Rhett deeper than he’ll admit to anyone.

Three years. Cecilia mentions you from time to time. When she runs into your uncle in town, she gets the news, which she conveys over the dinner table to the rest of the Abbotts. By the time it trickles down to Rhett, it’s just facts: how you like college, how you’re getting good grades.

Rhett doesn’t think his mother knows about your falling out. He thinks your uncle can guess at it: when Rhett sees the man in town, he’s met with a stony stare, curt words.

He hates the way he left it with you. Every time he thinks about it, his stomach twists and cramps at the wash of shame that courses through him. There are many times during those three years apart that he thinks of you, that he has the idle thought to reach out. He has your number, your email. He could reach out. He could apologize.

He always thinks of you when he’s working on the lower field of the Abbott Ranch. It butts against your family’s ranch, a quarter mile of shared fencing, and part of the reason why his mother and yours had been such good friends—and why you and Rhett had been childhood friends too. There’s a section of fencing with a gap perfectly sized for a child’s body, and both you and Rhett had squeezed through it plenty of times as you went to each other’s houses.

He doesn’t know why your friendship faded. You used to be inseparable as children, the best of friends. You used to play in the Abbott barn with Rhett until Royal shooed you both away. Rhett used to sleep beside you in a tent in your backyard, your mother within earshot and ready to usher you inside if either of you lost your nerve after a night of telling each other ghost stories.

And when your parents died, Rhett did everything he could to help, in his own childish way: he clowned around to try and coax a smile from you, he offered awkward hugs when you cried. Once, he even baked you cookies (with Cecilia’s help).

The drifting apart came in middle school, he guesses. That’s when the boys and girls started to separate. That’s when Perry made sly jokes about you, called you Rhett’s little girlfriend, and Rhett bristled at the taunt while you looked hurt at Rhett’s bristling. You spent less time together: Rhett fell in with the other boys who drove their trucks outside of town for bonfire parties on the range and dreamed of rodeo and buckle bunnies while you turned inward, studied harder, started dreaming of life outside of Wabang.

When he works on the Abbott ranch’s lower field, he sees the gap in the fencing and marvels that he was ever small enough to squeeze through it…and yet it gives him a pang to see it, to remember those golden years of his childhood he spent with you.

He could reach out. He could apologize. He could, after an opening salvo, express his own confusion and frustration about why you had asked him to take your virginity in the first place. He guesses that you trust him—or trusted him—but he can’t pretend it didn’t unnerve him all the same.

He could reach out, but he doesn’t.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

-----

It comes with no warning, the next time he sees you. There’s been no chatter about you returning to Wabang for the summer. You’ve spent other summers at college, working internships and taking classes, so Rhett didn’t expect to see you this summer.

Rhett sees you in the town proper, just like that, like it’s just another day. Which it is, except there you are: standing outside of a restaurant, balancing a flat box of pizza in one hand while a six-pack of beer dangles from the other hand. You’ve been cornered by one of the older Wabang residents, the mother of one of your high school classmates, and judging by the expression on your face, Rhett guesses you’re calculating how to extricate yourself from the situation.

He's idling in his truck and only has a moment to study you. You look exactly the same—same face, same hair—yet you seem completely different. It takes Rhett a long moment to realize why; he doesn’t piece it together until he’s pulled away and is driving towards the ranch.

You seem different because you seem taller—because you’re standing straight. Perfect posture, shoulders back. Rhett’s never seen you stand like that before: as a teenager, you had a way of walking bent over a little, your shoulders rounded over and in like you were trying to pull in on yourself.

-----

He catches glimpses of you here and there. He hears people mention you—college girl back from the great wider world—and Rhett can’t quite account for the feelings your name or face stir up in him. Sometimes it makes him duck his head, slink around guilty, like others could read those terrible words his said to you the last time he saw you.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, he had said. The words are seared into his memory, as permanent as any tattoo.

Other times, though, the mention of your name or a glimpse of you fills him with a lightness, an airy feeling he remembers from your childhood together. Like all he has to do is slip through that gap in the fencing to go find you, to take your hand in his for some adventure.

-----

It’s funny how some of the stringent cliques of high school soften once everyone graduates. Rhett still hangs out with his friends from then, since none of them have left Wabang, but interlopers come and go and are no worse for wear for it.

The bonfires still occur out on the range but there’s less stridency about who does and doesn’t belong, who was and wasn’t invited.

You never went to a bonfire in high school. You weren’t exactly friendless back then, but you hung with similarly quiet and studious girls. Girls who spent their Friday nights sleeping over at each other’s houses, watching movies and dreaming about lives far from Wabang. But one early summer night, you turn up at the bonfire, in tow with Billy Tillerson and his girlfriend and a handful of other friends.

That riot of feelings. Guilt and hope in equal measure. The beer Rhett has already drank doesn’t help. He’s just tipsy enough, his thoughts just fuzzy and sluggish enough that when you turn up in the circle of firelight, he openly gapes at you, and it draws your attention.

Three years after that terrible fucking night at the hotel, Rhett Abbott is finally looking you square in the eye.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, his memory hisses at him, and a sick wave of shame washes through him.

But if you’re remembering the terrible thing he said, Rhett can’t tell. You stare at him in the flickering firelight, but then you tip your head at him, a scant nod, and the corners of your lips curve into a semblance of a smile.

It’s been three years, so it’s better than nothing.

-----

He sees you again in the next few weeks, here and there. At the bar, around town. Each time, you exchange nods of recognition but little else.

Cecilia gets wind of you being back for the summer, and she spends a Saturday morning baking up a double batch of your favorite cookies—pumpkin chocolate chip. She underbakes them a shade so they stay soft in the middle, just as you and Rhett always liked them best when you were kids, and then she thrusts the foil-covered platter into her younger son’s hands with the directive to deliver them to you.

Maybe Rhett never gave his mother enough credit. Cecilia seems to know about the rift between you after all.

“Life’s too short to stay mad,” she tells him before she sends him on his way.

“Who says anyone’s mad?”

She rolls her eyes, a universal expression that all mothers seem to have that says I’m your mother, you’re not pulling a fast one on me.

“Her mom and I were best friends, but we had our spats. We never let it turn into a cold war, though. Talk it out, yell if you have to, but work through it.” She pats his shoulder, and her eyes have a film of tears as she remembers her best friend, your mother, dead now for these long years. “Life’s too short.”

-----

Something about his mother’s words make Rhett take the old path to your house—through the lower field, to the gap in the shared fencing, though he has to climb over the fence now that he’s too big to squeeze through the narrow space between the posts.

Each step towards your farmhouse brings back a million memories. There’s the overgrown bank of Rocky Mountain iris. Rhett remembers how you cut a bouquet of them (uneven, stems weeping sap) for when his childhood dog died and was buried behind the Abbott barn. There’s a wide fire pit where your father used to patiently supervise as the two of you caught marshmallows on fire for s'mores. There’s the flat patch of prairie where your parents pitched a small pup-tent that you and Rhett used to sleep in during warm summer nights.

It baffles him that he used to sleep right beside you, tucked in his Power Rangers sleeping bag while you slept in your Sailor Moon one beside him. It baffles him how childhood can be so completely innocent, and how it can slip away in an instant.

The house looks the same from the outside, and when Rhett knocks at the back door, he finds that he’s…not excited, exactly. But not dreading it. You were his best friend, and his mother is right. Life is too short.

Your uncle is the one who answers the door, and the cool expression on his face pulls Rhett up short. But he says nothing other than “c’mon in, then,” and once Rhett steps into the house, your uncle hollers for you somewhere deeper in the home. Tells you that you have a visitor and that he’s heading into town for supplies.

Then Rhett hears the familiar cadence of you running down the stairs, and it tugs at something in his chest—you ran down those stairs the same way as a child, hitting the top three carefully, then rushing down the rest. You must meet your uncle near the front door because he hears the two of you murmuring, but he can’t make out the words. Then the door slamming, the roar of your uncle’s truck’s engine, and then you’re standing in front of him, the same semblance of a smile from the bonfire.

*****

The two of you sit outside near the fire pit, the platter of cookies between you. You have no idea what bit Rhett’s ass, but after the barest bit of small talk (“How’s it going?” and “How’s college?”), he immediately launches into the big shit.

“I hate how we left it,” he starts. “That night. You know.”

You bite back a snort, and you pluck another cookie from the platter, break it in half, pop it in your mouth. You chew slowly, give yourself time for that old wash of shame to course through you, then ebb away. It still makes your face burn hot, three years later. Every time the memory surfaces, you shove it down, but not before you remember the mortification of getting cold feet, of standing in front of him half naked while he called you the town orphan.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“I should have never said it.”

You shrug. “S’fine.”

“It’s not.” He sighs, takes his ball cap off and swipes his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shoulda said it sooner. Should have apologized that same night.”

You glance over at him. You take in his profile: his jaw twitches at how tight he must be clenching it, and his blue eyes are fixed out in the field, the stretch of land between your ranch and his. He’s so damned handsome, but you often forget the fact because you still think of him as just the boy next door, your childhood best friend, and you didn’t think of him in terms of “handsome” or not back then.

You shift your gaze back to your shoes. “I should have apologized too. I should have never put you in that position in the first place.” A beat, and you add, softer, “I’m sorry, Rhett.”

You hear movement beside you and feel his eyes on you. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” He sounds surprised, and it makes you turn and look him in the eyes for the first time since you sat down.

“I do. It was awkward, and I made it more awkward, and it was stupid.” You shake your head, huff in frustration to remember the girl you’d been three years ago. Not that long, really, but you’ve grown up a lot since then. “I was an idiot.”

Rhett chances a smile. “You’re a lot of things, but idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, but it was stupid to ask you.”

His smile slips a bit; he leans back a shade. “It wasn’t stupid—”

“I mean, I put you in a weird position. That’s all I mean. And it was stupid for me to be so worried about it. It’ll happen how it happens. We aren’t…I mean, we weren’t…” You trail off, huff in frustration again. “We used to be best friends.”

He sighs too. “Yeah, I know.”

“And then we weren’t.”

“I know.”

“And I guess I was getting nervous about leaving Wabang, and nervous about going away to college, and I missed my friend and had this…this problem, I guess, so…” You hold up your hands, helpless, and it makes Rhett smile again.

“Not everything is a problem that you need to solve,” he says, and he sways towards you, elbows you in the side just like he used to do.

You laugh a little. “That was, though.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Says the guy who never had that problem.”

He laughs, elbows you lightly again. “You give me too much credit.”

That makes you remember the tenor of the situation three years ago. High school. Rhett pining over Maria. She left Wabang, you heard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him now. “I heard Maria left town.”

He shrugs but doesn’t say anything about it. He reaches out for another cookie and eats it, licks a crumb off his thumb.

“Anyway, I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things so weird,” you add.

He chuckles, elbows you a third time. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things fucking awful.”

You elbow him back finally, the answer to his outreach, the old call and response from your childhood. “I missed you, you know. In high school and in college both.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, and it feels good, like you’ve excised some old wound together, and now you can perhaps be friends again.

*****

The two of you don’t go all the way back to childhood, but you build something else. Tentative at first, stilted moments of conversation when you see each other in the wild, but each time feels a little easier.

You’re interning with the town veterinary clinic, and you join the old doctor as he makes house calls from ranch to ranch. You help steady horses while he vaccinates them. You smear on paste for ringworm, hold his instruments when he cleans a hoof abscess. You help him birth breech cattle; you stroke the muzzle of an old dog when it’s put to sleep.

Rhett sees you when you join the vet at the Abbott ranch one day. Royal’s favorite mare has a bad back hoof, and it makes Rhett smile to see you so professional. You question Royal about the horse’s diet; you question the vet about what he thinks. The vet asks you for your opinion, and you pause before you answer, look off into the distance thoughtfully before you tell him that a supplement of copper and zinc will help.

Cecilia invites you in afterwards for lemonade, and you accept gratefully. The two of you chat, and Rhett is left as a third wheel so he gets to look his fill of you. You seem more…comfortable with yourself. He noticed it that first day when he saw you again in Wabang. You sit up straight; you don’t curl in on yourself like you want to be invisible. He remembers you from high school, how you always seemed to be mid-cringe…and it reminds him of that night in the hotel, how you had cringed away from him, shirtless as he got frustrated because you had been nervous.

He knows he apologized and you apologized and it should all be behind you, but it still makes him feel queasy with shame. Pity-fucking the town orphan.

“Your mom would be proud,” Cecilia tells you, and you duck your head, mumble something, and just like that, you’re that high school girl again. It makes the queasy wash of shame cede to a wave of protectiveness in Rhett.

Then you stand up and thank her for the lemonade, and she makes you promise to join them for dinner soon. When you nod at Rhett, you try to step past him but he blocks your path.

“Hug tax,” he says, but it makes you burst into laughter. Your mom used to do that: block yours (and his, when he visited) path, demanded hugs as payment for passage.

“I smell like horse manure and sweat, Rhett Abbott.”

“I guarantee you I smell worse, but rules are rules.” He holds his arms open, and you laugh again, step into them for a moment. When he whispers “you stink” into your ear, it earns him a squawk of outrage and a pinch to his side, but you laugh the whole way back to your truck.

-----

You join them for dinner a few nights later. You get to meet the newest Abbotts, Rebecca and Amy, and you break up the general tension that radiates off of the dour Royal like a miasma.

The dinner is largely uneventful. Rhett catches you matching faces across the table at Amy, which makes the little girl laugh. Cecilia asks about your years at college so far, and Perry jokingly asks if you’ve had any boyfriends since Rhett.

“No, none,” you reply simply, but it makes Rhett think. It makes the gears start to turn. He always assumed your so-called problem was solved while you were away, your virginity shed in some dorm room or apartment or at a party. But he searches back to that conversation you had when he brought you the peace-offering cookies. What did you say as you stammered out your own apology?

It’ll happen how it happens.

Present tense, not past.

-----

He verifies it over that same weekend. There’s another bonfire. You turn up with the same crew as before—apparently you’re friendly with Billy Tillerson’s girlfriend. Now that you and Rhett are back on good terms, he approaches you halfway through the night, and the two of you peel off a little separate from the rest.

“Big fan of the Tillersons then?” he asks, his tone mock-disgusted. You hear the underlying playfulness and laugh.

“There’s a certain brand loyalty there, yeah.”

Rhett pulls a face, which makes you elbow him. “Why?”

“Well, their cousin Drew took me to the winter formal sophomore year.”

“So?”

Another elbow to his side. “He was my first kiss.”

“Gross.”

You laugh again. “It could have been worse. He popped a mint beforehand, at least.”

Rhett grunts at that, but he lets the moment lie for a beat before he asks, in a tone he hopes is casual, “did Drew Tillerson help you with your other problem too?”

You laugh again, but there’s less merriment in it. “Negative, Ghost Rider.”

Maybe he shouldn’t push it, but he’s had a few shots of Fireball chased by plenty of beer, so he plunges head-first. “Someone at college, then?”

That doesn’t elicit a laugh. “No,” you reply, and now there’s an edge of tension in your voice. A tread lightly edge. Which…Rhett Abbott rarely treads lightly—he more often charges headfirst like a bull, and that’s exactly what he does now.

“Someone I know?”

“No.” He glances at you, catches your narrowed eyes fixed on the fire. “Leave it, Rhett.”

He doesn’t leave it. He plunges head first. “So it’s still a problem?”

It must be. You must still be a virgin because you’re so discomfited. You obviously hear judgement in his voice—judgement that doesn’t exist, of course—because you hike your shoulders up around your ears and hunch away from him. You look so much like your high school self, suddenly insecure and cringing, and you mumble something about it not being a problem for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem for anyone else, and then you duck away to go find someone else to talk to.

-----

The two of you hang out through the summer. He works at the ranch and you have your internship, but you fall into the habit of spending the evenings together. The weekends. You go to the rodeo with him, watch from the stands. Sometimes you sit with Perry and Rebecca when they come, and Perry makes sly comments to Rhett afterwards. He calls you his girlfriend, just as he had teased when you were kids, but it hits Rhett different now.

Things with you feel easy. Low stakes. You’re friends again, and you slowly open up to each other. Rhett tells you a little about Royal, their difficult relationship that has only grown more strained the older Rhett has gotten. You talk about college, how lonely it can be since you are so focused on your studies. Veterinary school is more competitive than med school, you tell him, so how can you make time for friends?

The corollary is how can you make time for love? How can you make time to lose your virginity?

When you asked him to take your virginity three years ago, he had been confused and a little uncomfortable about he. He couldn’t understand why you’d ask him, but with three years’ worth of added life experience, Rhett guesses that you asked because you trust him. Wabang isn’t that big of a town. There’s a dearth of available men you could have asked, especially back in high school.

Three years later, the memory makes a million emotions flit through Rhett. A nostalgia for when life was slightly easier back then. Shame that he had said what he did, sadness that he didn’t reach out sooner, that he let the bad feelings lie for three years.

But you had trusted him, even back then, so he wonders if you trust him now. Would you ask him again, if you weren’t so embarrassed? What if that evening in the hotel room had gone differently? What if, instead of getting frustrated with how nervous you were, he had been a gentler man—what if he had handed you your shirt, pulled you into a hug, laid down on the bed with you and watched a movie instead? What if you had fallen asleep together instead, just like when you were kids?

He has to wonder if that disastrous evening has made your virginity an even bigger deal. That you had a plan to lose it, and that plan had gone horribly, so now it’s more of an issue.

Pity-fucking the town orphan. The memory stings. There were so many kinder things he could have said.

Well, he has a semblance of a second chance now. He sees you nearly every day. You laugh with him again, have long chats. Maybe he can do it over again, better the second time around.

-----

He’s the one who asks, the second time around.

The two of you are in his truck, driving back from Wabang. Your truck is in the shop, so Rhett picked you up from work, but he takes the long way home. You fiddle with the radio, scan through the static until you find the old country station out of Jackson. There’s an old Loretta Lynn song playing that you hum along to, and you seem to be in a good mood, so Rhett plunges headfirst into it.

“If you wanted to try again,” he says, and his voice is rough at the edges. “I was gonna offer…”

He trails off, and you stop humming along, and Loretta finishes her song, gives way to Merle Haggard singing about how his mama tried.

“Rhett,” is all you say, but his name is both a sigh and a warning.

“I’m just saying.” He swallows, tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I messed up before. Ruined it.” He glances over at you, but your face is turned away from him. You’re looking out the window at the Wyoming dusk as the sun sets.

“Rhett, c’mon.” Less a warning now, more a plea.

“I want to,” is all he says, and you don’t reply. You don’t say anything else other than to murmur your thanks for the ride when he drops you off, and he doesn’t talk to you again until you call him days later and say, “okay.”

-----

Three years later, he does so much better.

He keeps it simple this time. He remembers all those sleepovers in the pup tent, your parents within earshot of any nighttime terrors. He remembers sleeping beside you, waking up to dawn bleeding in through the nylon of the tent, dew coating everything when your mom would unzip the little door and tell you that there were chocolate chip pancakes ready for the two of you.

You’ve never been a high maintenance sort of girl. You’ve always loved the wilderness around Wabang, the endless sky and wild storms and purple mountain ranges in the distance. Where better than to do this than under the night sky, out on the range?

Rhett lays down a thick bedroll in the bed of his truck, then covers it with blankets. It’s a banner night in Wyoming: cool but not cold, the warmth of the summer day bleeding away to a comfortable coolness. The bugs are few. The sky is a velvety blue-black above you, the stars a scatter of diamonds tossed across it. The faintest band of orange glows in the west, the last bit of sunlight before it’s full dark.

You’re just as nervous as before, but Rhett keeps his head this time. He’s not a boy masquerading as a man this time; he’s older, smarter, has more experience. Three years ago, Rhett only had a handful of sexual encounters to his repertoire—a handful of disappointing moments, drunken rendezvous with girls from high school, a couple of flings. Nothing deep or meaningful.

He smooths his hands over your arms, then reaches up and cups your face. He studies you a moment, takes in the unsteady way you’re breathing. You’re his oldest and dearest friend, and he feels a weird twinge in his chest. He chalks it up to nervousness on his part, but he’ll wonder later if perhaps it is love.

“Okay?” he asks, and you nod.

He bends his head and kisses you, and it’s the same as before. You’re tentative with each other, but you warm up to him quickly: you kiss him back, tease at him with a shy little sweep of your tongue, and when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, you’re right there—sighing against him, sinking your teeth lightly into his lower lip before you suck against it.

You must have kissed, at least, in college. You’re better at it now. The thought should encourage him—he won’t be your only experience—but he feels an odd wash of jealousy. He pictures you making out with someone better than him, better looking and smarter and on track to being more successful.

He takes it as slow as you need. He lets you set the pace. He strips you out of your clothing, and he allows you to strip him out of his, and you don’t cringe from him this time. It’s likely because it’s dark outside; Rhett can’t see much, but you feel amazing under his searching hands, soft and warm. When he trails his fingertips over your bare skin, he feels how you break out in goosebumps, and he marvels at how sensitive you are.

Rhett’s learned a lot in the intervening years. He’s no longer an eighteen year-old fumbling through sexual interludes. He has a better understanding of women. He spends a long moment stretched out beside you in the bed of his truck, working his fingers into your tight heat, feeling how wet you get as he eases you into this. He pushes one finger, then a second. He scissors them inside you, feels the slick muscles of your core push back against him.

“Just relax,” he whispers against your neck, and he kisses you there. He feels your pulse under his lips, and he nuzzles against you, takes in the scent of your skin. A moment later, he feels you relax a fraction, the tight grip on his fingers released just a bit.

He can feel you relax more as he kisses you, as he fingers you. You’re warming up to the moment, pushing past whatever insecurities you have. The setting helps, he thinks. It’s not some anonymous hotel room with beige carpeting and the faint scent of old secondhand smoke. It’s outside, the open range of your home that you love so much. A waning moon and a million stars burn above you. It must be a million times more magical than a three-star hotel by the interstate exit.

It's certainly better for him. It takes him no time at all to get hard, even if he’s nervous. You’re his oldest, dearest friend, and he’s never thought of you as a woman, really. He’s never considered you as a sexual being, so it’s a revelation to see your naked body under the faint moonlight. It’s a revelation to touch you, to cup your breasts and to put his lips against your pebbled nipples, to grind his cock against your bare hip to relieve the tension that coils tight and hot in his belly.

Rhett stretches out on the bed roll. He fumbles for his discarded jeans, finds the foil packet. He scrambles to roll a condom onto himself, and then he encourages you to take charge, to take your first time into your own hands.

“You’re in charge,” he murmurs. He takes your hand, threads his fingers through yours. He tugs you towards him until your face is pressed near his, and he brushes his lips against yours. “Just like ridin’ a horse.”

You snort softly. “Am I gonna need a riding helmet for this?”

He grins up at you. “I won’t buck you off.”

He guides you as you straddle him, grasps the softness of your hips as you settle over him. He grips the base of his cock, gives himself a couple of strokes, then holds himself steady as you lower yourself, slide against his length, and even through the latex he can feel how warm you are.

Then you reach down and take him in hand, and it should feel weird, his best friend wrapping her fingers around his cock, but it doesn’t, and Rhett doesn’t question why because you may be a virgin but you understand the mechanics of this, and you notch the blunt head of his cock at your entrance. When you start to slowly lower yourself onto him, every blessed thought drains out of his head, and every bit of his attention focuses on where he’s entering you—the unbearably tight grip you have, the way your hands settle on his chest as you brace yourself. You take it slow—so goddamned slow—stilling, taking a breath, then pushing onwards.

When you’re settled onto him, when you’re sitting flush against him, Rhett breathes out a harsh, punched-out breath, and he asks if you’re okay. His voice is rough. His throat feels too dry. It feels unreal. His oldest, dearest friend, the girl he used make s’mores with and trade ghost stories with…you’re naked, you’re nodding at his question, you’re sitting on him, and his cock is buried in your depths. He’s just taken your virginity, and his throat feels too dry and too tight, and his brain struggles to think of the perfect thing to say to you, but your body starts to move above him and he never has a chance to say it.

Your rhythm is clumsy at first, too fast, too jerky. Rhett grasps your waist and guides you gently. He sets you in a slower, more even rhythm; you ride him steadily and you make the cutest little whimpers each time to settle back on him. Each time you do, the coil of tension in his lower belly tightens more, and Rhett breathes carefully to avoid coming too soon.

He slips one hand from your hip and reaches to where you’re joined to him. He finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he traces an infinity symbol there, around and ‘round with his thumb that makes those cute whimpers turn into outright moans. He senses that you’re holding back, but you’re in the middle of nowhere.

“No need to be quiet,” he tells you. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

You moan louder at that, the command or the sweet-talking nickname or both, and he notices that you start to pick up the pace, riding him faster, so he does the same—he rubs against your clit harder, faster, because he feels his own orgasm coming up fast at him. His balls feel heavy and taut, and he’s so damned close—

“C’mon, let go,” he growls, but his sedate passivity crumbles. He sits up underneath you, jerks a squeal from you as he sits up and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you closer to him, and the change in position grants him another quarter-inch into you, and it makes the base of his cock grind against your clit with each bounce in his lap.

“Let go,” he orders; he mumbles it against your lips. “I wanna feel you come, baby. Wanna feel you come for the first time,” he says, but when you open your mouth to respond, he kisses you, shoves his tongue into your panting mouth, licks against you as you whimper from deep in your throat.

Then he feels it. He feels it—the way your orgasm breaks through you, the hard snap of your hips as you arch against him, as your cunt grips him: your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your arms tight around his shoulders. You drop your head on his shoulder, and he feels your mouth there. You stifle the sounds of your pleasure against him, and he’d admonish you, but as your orgasm tears through you, he feels the sharp bite of your teeth into his skin, and it unlocks a kink Rhett never knew he had because the sting of pain is what makes the tension in him snap. He groans out your name, manages a shit—fuck—baby, then he comes too, ropes of his cum spilling in the condom as you tremble in his arms.

-----

In the end, Rhett Abbott claims your first time that night on the range, under the stars.

He gets your second time too, later that same night: him on top of you, you with your legs wrapped around him, making good use of the spare condom he brought along.

He gets your third time as well, the next day. It’s a quick moment, a bona fide quickie in the Abbott barn, the scent of clean hay and sweat as he bends you over the railing of an empty horse stall. He pulls out in plenty of time, pants as you turn around to grasp him and jerk him off the rest of the way, his cum spilling over your warm palm.

And your fourth time. He sneaks into your bedroom, and though your uncle is out of town for the night, Rhett still pretends you need to be quiet: he spoons you from behind, hikes your leg over his and slides into you. He breathes quietly as he fucks you gently, and he clasps a hand over your mouth as you come, and when your teeth nip into his calloused palm, he groans and comes too.

The next morning, your fifth time as you sit on the kitchen counter and wrap your legs around his ass as he drives into you.

Rhett never examines his feelings around it. When he’s alone—baling hay, fixing fences along the ranch parameter—he doesn’t let his thoughts ruminate over you too much. There’s a truth there, buried under all the sexual interludes and underneath all the shared history and hurt, but he doesn’t excavate it.

He only lets the facts stand. You’re his oldest, dearest friend. You are sexually compatible. End of story.

*****

You have plans to meet Rhett in town, at the bar. You’ve had a long day at your job, deworming a flock of sheep, and you smell terrible, so you stop home to shower and change your clothes. You stare at your closet critically; you’ve suffered for lack of a mother in your formative years. You don’t quite understand how to be a woman—you know there’s different lengths of skirts, for example, that work best depending on one’s height or shoes, but you’re damned if you know what those rules are.

Still, you want to look nice. You want to look nice for Rhett. Under torture, you’d probably admit it, but you can barely even admit it to yourself: you’re in love with him. You have been for a while. You loved him when you were children in that vague, puppyish way kids love each other. You loved him when you were in high school, pined from afar and moped over sad songs on the radio because he never looked your way.

And now here you are. Hope bubbles up in you from time to time, when you’re alone and considering what your future might hold. You always had a deep, bleak dread that you’d always be alone—sudden orphanhood can warp a psyche, you guess. But for the first time, you have tentative moments of hope.

You find a sundress, the cotton a little faded but in the low lights of the bar, no one should notice. You pull on a pair of strappy sandals. You dust your face and neck with some of your mother’s old luminating powder, and the scent of it makes a sharp blade of melancholy lance through you.

Then you drive into Wabang, and your stomach gets those fluttery butterflies as you park, slip your keys into your purse, and walk in.

It takes a moment to find him. He usually posts at the bar when he’s waiting for you, the door in his line of sight, but when you enter the din of the bar, he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he found a buddy and is chatting with him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom.

If your hope bubbles up in you, effervescent, then your hope is easily popped when you find Rhett. He’s not in the bathroom and he hasn’t found a buddy, but he’s found Maria Olivares. The wayward dream girl has returned, and she’s as gorgeous as ever (she must understand skirt lengths, you guess), and her lovely face is tilted towards Rhett as she laughs at whatever he says. And worse, his handsome face is lit up like a damned Christmas tree, laughing too, and your hope is popped and burnt to the ground and the earth around it is salted because Rhett has never looked at you like that.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, and you turn on your heel and fast-walk out of the bar. The path back to your truck shimmers, wavers in front of you. You realize it’s because your eyes are full of tears, and when you realize it, they break free, start to course down your face.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself, and you repeat it over and over: as you get into your truck, as you turn the ignition, as you peel out of the parking lot and as your tires throw up an arc of gravel. You repeat it like a mantra, and you fix your attention on the road. You drive home; you leave Rhett at the bar, and it’s a confirmation when he doesn’t text you until the next morning asking where you’ve been.

By then, though, you’re already halfway gone. It’s August, after all, and school is starting again soon, and leaving Wabang a few weeks early is easy enough.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

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petcr3 · 10 months

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dreams | rhett abbott x reader

summary: rhett asks if reader ever wants to move out of their apartment, and before either of them know it, they’re planning out a future together.

word count: ~1.4k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, my usual in depth cuddle descriptions because i am not normal, rhett getting to feel loved uwu, rhett being romantic because he IS i just know

a/n: this was completely unplanned, i was just yearning so hard an entire fic fell out

You’re curled up against Rhett’s chest, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he idly trails his fingers up and down the length of your spine.

“You ever think about leaving this place?” he asks.

“Wabang?”

“No.” A chuckle. “Well, yeah. But I just meant the apartment.” You hum in understanding, fingertips idly dancing along his side.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind living in a bigger place. Maybe a house someday.”

“Any chance I’m in that house with you?”

“Of course you are. There’s a little spot for you to curl up at the foot of my bed and everything.” Laughter rumbles in his chest and he leans down to nip harmlessly at the shell of your ear.

“Mean.”

You giggle and hide your face against his chest. He can feel you smiling against his skin. Despite your transgression, Rhett reaches up to play with your hair and you let out a contented sigh.

“There’s no house without you in it,” you say after a moment. It catches him a little off guard. Sure, he likes to think he plays a part in your fantasies about the future, but it’s something else to hear that he’s a fixture in them. Something clenches near his heart–– a beautiful ache that comes from a missing piece sliding home.

“Tell me more about it?” he asks, feeling suddenly a little vulnerable. You nose affectionately at his chest and pull him a little closer

“It’s got a lot of light. It’s big, but not too big, like, you can’t get lost in it. We wouldn’t need that kind of space. Mostly it just feels open and bright, you know? Lots of sun. Our bedroom has its own bathroom so I can listen to you sing to yourself in the shower.” Rhett lets out a quiet snort.

“Thought you did that anyway.”

“Yeah but now I can do it lying down. It’s a game changer.”

You’re funny, Rhett thinks. People don’t notice that enough. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…” Your head bobs a little with his gentle laughter.

“Go on.”

“We have a big ol’ bathtub–– one where we both fit.”

“Sexy.” He can’t help himself. You pinch his side, but he can still feel you smiling..

“We have a big yard. Maybe even big enough to keep horses, if you wanted.”

“What about a dog?”

“Well we’d have to get two, so they can have a friend.”

“Agreed.”

“What about you? What are you adding?” Rhett thinks for a moment.

“Nice deck. Rocking chairs or a porch swing so we can sit out and watch the stars at night.” You let out a happy little sound, and he can tell you’re picturing it. “Lots of blankets out there. You can get nice n’ cozy and I’ll bring us out hot toddies.” Rhett knows he’s not playing exactly by the rules of the game, but he’s starting to get lost in the idea of a future with you–– one that you seem to already be counting on. “The dogs like to sit by our feet. At least one of ‘em’s too big to sit in your lap, but you let ‘em anyway because you’re soft on ‘em.” He smiles. “Guess I probably am, too.”

You’ve always loved Rhett’s voice. It’s sexy as hell, sure, but it’s also unbelievably calming. Paired with his arms wrapped around you, it’s positively lethal. But he’s so wrapped up in the fantasy you two are creating, he doesn’t notice the way your breathing evens out or your grip on his waist starts to slacken.

“Once it gets too cold we head inside and you tell me just to leave the mugs in the sink because you don’t wanna go up to the bedroom by yourself even if it’s just for a few minutes. Our bedroom is big, but it’s cozy. You picked out most of the furniture but you always tell everyone I helped. I built our bed frame, though. You like to brag about that.” He knows he’s right because you still tell everyone you know about the end table he made for your living room last year. When he starts speaking again, he hardly realizes what he’s saying. It just starts to flow out of him.

“I ask you to marry me in that bed. I got a ring and a proposal all planned out but you have to go and look so beautiful one night that my plans go right out the window. I take you out for a walk like I was going to, though, and get down on one knee. You don’t even let me get up, you practically tackle me to the ground saying yes again. Maybe we get married out in the yard or we find some place pretty to go. But I think the ceremony happens outside; that feels right. We make Amy the flower girl even if she’s not a kid anymore. I’m crying the whole damn time and I don’t care who sees. You hold my hand even if we’re not supposed to.” He isn’t sure if that’s a rule–– he thinks maybe it isn’t–– but he knows you’d break it if there was one.

“I know we haven’t talked about kids, but…” Finally Rhett catches himself. “Well, I guess I’m getting a little carried away, there, huh?” For the first time in several minutes, he realizes you haven’t said a word. He nudges his nose against the crown of your head. “Sweetheart?” You shift a little bit, saying nothing. Rhett can’t help but laugh when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. He leans back just enough to drag his thumb gently underneath your eye. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, a little louder.

“Mmm?” The sheets rustle as you start to wake, the sounds of a slow inhale as it fills your lungs. “Rhett?”

“Hey, sleepyhead,” and he thinks that maybe he’s never loved you so much as he does now. It’s not the first time he’s felt it–– he falls more in love with you every damn day. But his chest is full of something honey-thick, and warm. Your groggy expression is the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. “Think you fell asleep.” You blink some of the sleep from your eyes.

“Oh fuck!” you swear through a yawn. Your eyes seem bigger than ever when you peer up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just you were playing with my hair and your voice is so soothing and––”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “it was kinda cute.”

“No, but I wanna hear what you were saying!”

“You’re tired, honey. Let’s go to sleep and I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“No,” you say, wiggling out of his embrace and sitting up. “I wanna hear everything. No details skipped.” Rhett only smiles up at you, expression growing mischievous, lips sealed tight.

“Here,” you say, oblivious to the fact that he’d do anything you asked. “You can put your head in my lap. I’ll play with your hair. But you have to tell me everything I missed.” He chuckles and tucks his head against your thigh. His eyes flutter shut and a happy sigh leaves him as you begin to card your fingers through his hair.

“Where’d I lose you?”

“I let the big dogs sit on my lap.” He grins up at you, eyes peeking open.

“Oh good, so you missed the proposal.” You freeze.

“The what?”

“You heard me.” And the smug bastard has the nerve to shut his eyes again, settling back into your lap.

“Rhett Abbott, you open your eyes right now.”

“Hmm… nope.” You tug at his hair but he just lets out a contented groan. He can’t see you glaring at him, and it’s hard to keep it up when your heart is threatening to melt down into nothing and kill you. You think that maybe you’ve never loved Rhett as much as you do in this very moment.

“Did you mean it?” you ask, voice suddenly small. Rhett opens his eyes, expression serious now.

“Yeah, I did.”

“And you’re not even gonna tell me?” you cry. He smiles and turns his head to press a kiss against your tummy.

“I’ll tell you everything else. I promise. But some things ought to be a surprise, don’t you think?” You let out a huff, but it’s all fondness.

“Okay, so I’m a pushover with the dogs, and?”

“You leave the mugs in the sink overnight because you can’t stand to be without me, even for a second.” You give him a look, but you know it’s true.

Luckily, if everything goes to plan, you won’t have to.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you #outer range imagine #lewis pullman x reader #nobody perceive me #pls and thank you

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topherwrites · 4 months

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FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

#rhett abbott x reader #rafe cameron x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #rafe cameron #eddie munson #rhett abbott #steve harrington #fic rec list #fic rec

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withahappyrefrain · 11 months

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Summary: When your pastor wishes to practice fulfilling his God-given responsibilities, you're more than happy to oblige.

Warning: Strong breeding kink. Language, preacher!Rhett, female reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), creampies. I'd like to give my NSA agent a formal apology.

The praise got old after a while, the words all the same. He smiled and nodded as he made his way towards the back of the church, past the throngs of people. Their compliments washed over him. He had heard them all before.

Beautiful sermon. So lovely. What a fresh take. What a way to take it back to tradition.

He used to cling to every comment when he first began as the church's preacher. Hung to their every word.

But now he had something more important. Something better than the congregation's words. Something that he believed rivaled heaven.

You.

As he walked down the hallway of his church, the voices of adults faded away and were replaced with that of young children.

Some say it was a miracle how quickly you had been able to grow the children’s ministry. Rhett knew it was because once you set your mind to something, you were determined to get it done.

Like how you were determined to start a new life. Determined to put your past behind you. Determined to spend more time with him.

Not that Rhett minded. He had already been thinking of ways he could get you involved, get to know you better, get to spend more time with you. He saw your potential, ever since he first met you at that church picnic.

You were much like him. A good soul that had been led astray by wayward circumstances, desperately trying to get back to salvation.

Which was why Rhett did everything he could to make you feel welcomed, to find a place for you.

The clergy had been talking for years about expanding the Children's Ministry; expanding beyond a nursery, turning it into a place where all children could learn the valuable words of the Lord, where families could become a part of a welcoming community.

Then you came along. It didn't strike Rhett as odd that you were working at the local diner, despite having gone to school for teaching. It wasn't his place to judge, after all, everyone had their reasons.

Just like he had his for leaving Wabang.

Rhett was convinced. Convinced that you were the answers to his prayers. That God had led you to him.

You were much like him. You wanted to do good, to repent for your past sins.

When he offered his help, you accepted graciously. After all, the program had to be blessed by the lead pastor.

And soon, you were blessed by Rhett. In his office, bent over his desk. Over the front pew, right before his sermon. In his home, as he sat in his leather chair, while you were on your knees. In your home, your back against the bed while Rhett's mouth whispered words of praise against your cunt.

Reverend Abbott had many blessings to bestow onto you.

But the biggest blessing Rhett wanted to give you- his last name- had to wait. As a preacher, he could get married. However, that didn't stop him from having to navigate the bullshit of church politics. That people felt strongly over who should be the wife of their preacher; after all, she would become the face of the church.

You were willing to work your way up. Not that gaining the good graces of the congregation was hard. Everyone loved how you had dedicated yourself to creating the Sunday School program, how you took the time to get to know families, earning their trust when it came to looking after their children.

Normally you would be leading the Sunday school session for the early school age children. But today you were in the nursery. A new couple was hesitant about leaving their first child alone, so to soothe their nerves you promised to be in the room.

Rhett beamed with pride when he saw how relaxed the couple was after hearing you'd be there. Though his mood had dampened when he realized the only way he could show it in public was a simple squeeze of your shoulder.

He wouldn’t have to do that much longer. Rhett had started receiving knowing glances when you were mentioned. Folks had begun coming up to him, telling him how good you had been for the church.

The ball was rolling. Soon Rhett wouldn't have to sneak around and instead could kiss you whenever he wanted, instead of behind closed doors.

Rhett was incredibly thankful, as the sight in front of him nearly brought him to his knees.

Through the door window, he saw you in the nursery, wearing the same yellow gingham dress you wore to the church picnic where he first met you. In your arms was a baby you were rocking back and forth.

You looked like a natural, like it was what you were always meant to do. You confided in Rhett that you did enjoy the times you got to go to the nursery, to spend time with the youngest.

Rhett could see your mouth moving, a bright smile on your face as you spoke to the infant. You gently placed them in the nearby crib, rocking it to ensure the infant fell asleep.

He watched as a toddler waddled up to you, pulling on the long skirt of your dress. You didn't mind, picking up the little tyke and resting him on your hip.

Rhett gripped the door knob, trying to ground himself while all the blood in his body went straight to his cock. He tried to think of holy things, he really did.

But the thought of you surrounded by children-his children, with your stomach round and full with his baby, refused to leave his mind.

Perhaps it was a sign from God that he needed to explore.

First, he needed to get you out of here and into a room alone with him.

"Miss Fabre?" You had gotten better about responding to your 'name'. Soon you would have a new last name- Rhett's. One that was actually yours, one that would represent new beginnings.

It's what you deserved, after all your hardships. Rhett wasn't sure why someone like you had been given so many challenges. You didn't deserve to have to look over your shoulder, worried a remnant of the life you tried so hard to escape would show up. You still did, despite watching Rhett ensure your ghosts were laid to rest.

You looked up, a sweet smile overtaking your face at the sight of him.

He swore his knees nearly went weak.

"How's our newest member of the congregation?" Rhett motioned to the crib you were nearby.

"She's doing well!" You put the little toddler down, who was more than happy to scurry off and investigate the painting activity.

"She was a little fussy at first, but settled right in." Rhett joined you by the crib, admiring how you looked down at the little one with such bright eyes and a smile nothing short of radiant.

"That's because she had you," His voice was low in your ear. A shiver went down your spine when you felt his large hand squeeze your shoulder.

"You're a natural at this, y'know that?" You could only nod, too busy focusing on the butterflies in your stomach.

"Think one day you'll want your own?" Your head turned to find Rhett's blue eyes focused on the baby in the crib.

"I do," you paused, your hand moving closer to Rhett's, "with the right person."

Rhett's breath hitched upon feeling your pinky gently run along his hand. Your touch grounded him. To Rhett, it was his salvation.

And he wanted to show that to you.

"May I speak to you? Privately."

You would do anything the owner of that deep voice asked.

You nodded, following him out the door. As soon as you two were out of sight, his hand engulfed yours, leading you through the hallways of the church.

"You leading me through a maze?" You giggled. Normally your laugh was music to Rhett's ears, a sound better than the choir.

But there were more pressing matters at hand.

As soon as the door to his office opened, Rhett's lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, his hands now on your shoulders, walking you backwards.

The click of the door closing is now distant. Did he even close it all the way? Your head was clouded due to his addictive scent; rosemary that always lingered on him.

His stubble is now brushing against the soft skin of your neck as his teeth nip down to your collarbone. Rhett's hands felt heavenly, squeezing your breasts through the soft fabric of your dress.

"Need my angel," he muttered against your skin, teeth nipping at the soft flush.

You found yourself on his desk, legs spread wide enough for Rhett to get down on his knees, ready to worship at his favorite altar.

The soft fabric of your dress is pushed upwards to your hips, exposing your clothed cunt.

Rhett made quick work of removing the cotton fabric, stuffing it in his back pocket for later.

A gasp fell from your lips upon feeling his stubble against your thighs, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh.

"Rhett, some-fuck! Someone could walk i-in," you tried to get his attention by tugging on his dark blonde locks. The action only spurred him on, his tongue desperately lapping at your core.

"Good, let'em see who you belong to."

Everyday he was getting bolder. What had started out as small smiles and quick taps on the shoulder had turned into lingering touches and whispers in your ear, beyond what was appropriate for two colleagues, for two friends.

Your teeth sunk into your fist, trying to contain your whimpers. As much as you loathed having to sneak around, it was for a good reason; you two were so close to being in the clear, to finally reaching the path God had intended for you two all along, despite the numerous obstacles thrown your way.

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to push him away. Your body melts into him, relishing in his touch.

Rhett easily works two fingers inside of you, thankful that he had you earlier this morning, hours before his first sermon.

He knew greed was a sin. But was it greedy when he just wanted to fulfill his duty?

"Such a good girl, always ready f'me."

His words caused you to whimper, your hips bucking up towards his face. Rhett let out a chuckle, sending vibrations throughout your body as he looked up to see your withering form.

Rhett thought it was better than any other icon he had ever seen. Your parted lips, half closed eyes, the small gasps that fell from your mouth.

"You want it? Wanna be full of me?"

"Always wanna be full of you."

His cock twitched at your words, grunts falling from his lips as his hands fumbled to remove his belt. He pulled his pants and boxers down far enough to free his hard cock.

Your arms extend out, finding his hair as his lips devour yours, swallowing your moans as he eases into you.

Rhett can feel your hips squirm as you adjust to the sheer size of him. You bury your head into his neck, trying to muffle your gasps as he bottoms out.

"S'fucking tight."

For a man of God, his mouth was sinful.

He quickly set a fast pace, knowing how short he was on time. You buried your face into his neck, practically clinging onto him for dear life.

"Want me to fill ya up angel?" You could only whimper in response, causing him to chuckle, "Course ya do. S'good f'me. Gonna be the perfect lil' wife f'me."

Your walls clenched at his words. It wasn't the first time you two had spoken about this particular subject. But usually it was done with bashful smiles and Rhett's cheeks turning red as a tomato.

This? This was bold.

You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. If you hadn’t thought about taking the next steps with him. Haven’t thought about moving in with him, living on his ranch with a little one running around.

"Ya like the sound of that? Gonna keep you full of me. Every day 'till it takes."

His cock began brushing against the spot that made you see stars. Your lips pressed against his forehead, his mouth moving down your collarbone to the tops of your breasts.

"Gonna look s'good, full of me," he pulled the fabric down before sinking his teeth into your skin. Rhett knew that you could easily cover the bite marks. In fact, he loved it. Loved knowing underneath that fabric were physical reminders of his devotion towards you. That you would be able to feel it, you would know it was there as folks tried to talk to you.

That you were his.

Those very thoughts sent your head reeling, pleasure surging throughout your body. Any concern about the door, someone walking by, the Millers' baby, were gone. All you could focus on was the way his cock made you feel so full.

“Fuck, can’t wait until these get full. Ya gonna look so pretty angel, carryin’ our baby.” His tongue lapped at the fresh bite mark on your breasts. The action did little to soothe you, adding to the ache between your legs.

Two fingers tapped at your bottom lip. You opened, moaning around his long digits. Soon, there would be a wedding band around one of them. Soon you two wouldn't have to go to restaurants in the next town over. Soon you would be able to hold his hand in public.

Soon you two would have the life you always deserved, the life you both made so many sacrifices for, committed sins for.

Rhett always said that sometimes God put good people in bad circumstances. And that in those cases, the Lord understood you had to do what was necessary to get out.

You still doubt whether you were good. But with Rhett, you knew you could be.

His fingers left your mouth, moving to just above where your bodies connected.

"Gonna have ya sit in the front row. So everyone can see who you belong to. See who fucked a baby into ya."

Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. Even with his button up, you knew there would be faint crescent-shaped marks. Not that Rhett minded. He liked the physical reminders of your devotion just as much as you, if not more.

His hips rocked into yours. That, combined with the circles he was drawing on your clit, led to your undoing. His other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans. You should at least try to be quiet, given the circumstances.

But that was near impossible with how his thick cock was dragging in and out of your wet cunt, prolonging your pleasure. He always made you feel so good, so full.

"Rhett," his name weakly fell from your lips, barely audible over the obscene sound of his cock fucking your wetness back into you.

"Whatcha need angel?" He grunted. Rhett liked to consider himself a good listener. Many had told him it was one of his strengths as a preacher. But it was so hard to focus on anything other than you.

"Need….need y'to fill me up," your words were slurred, as if you were drunk off his cock.

Wouldn't be the first time.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs, bringing your legs up to his hips. The new angle allowed him to fuck you even deeper.

"That's what ya want? Want me to fill ya up? Make ya mine?"

"W-want it s'bad Rhett." His words made your walls clench, head spinning in a sickly sweet pleasure, "Wanna have your baby."

None of the words that fell from his mouth could be found in the Bible.

The oversensitivity combined with how deep he was fucking you caused you to teether back and forth from pleasure to pain. A near animalistic need was overtaking your body, the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of him coming deep inside of you.

"Want me to keep going, don't ya? So deep inside ya, I bet ya want it to take." It made your head reel that this was the same man who an hour earlier, was speaking to a congregation about loving thy neighbor.

His different layers were what caused you to fall in love with Rhett. The same man who was grunting words of pure filth was the same man who planned to make you dinner. It was the same man who personally saw to it that your demons were laid to rest, unable to haunt you ever again.

The same man who was now pressing his lips gently to your forehead as he pulled out.

"I'll feel ya up real good tonight angel, promise. But folks are probably wondering where we are." You nodded, though your body remained wrapped up in his.

"You know, they're still gonna wonder where we are, even after they learn about us."

Rhett simply smiled as he stuffed your panties into his back pocket.

"Yeah, but they'll know better than to say anything about it."

One of your eyebrows quirked upwards, "Perks of being a man of God?"

His lips pressed against yours for a quick peck, "You'll get those perks too angel. Soon."

It couldn't come soon enough.

#my writing #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbot smut #preacher!rhett abbott #rhett abbot x y/n

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sushiwriterhere · 11 months

Text

right where i want you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That pulls a laugh from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His demeanor switches in an instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s this one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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delopsia · 17 days

Text

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

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vivwritesfics · 10 days

Note

COMING AT YOU WITH A SOFT BOY RHETT!

He’s working on his ranch when a horse comes onto his land and it’s fully tacked but there is no signs of the rider. It’s spooked but he manages to calm it down and catch it. He’s tacks up his own horse and goes on the search for the missing rider! - nurse-sainz 🥰🥰🥰

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING MUCH

Rhett x english rider omg

Rhett Abbott sleeping in his truck was nothing new. He was usually sleeping off a hangover, and that morning was no different. He knew he had chores to do, which might have been why he slept in his truck. Waking up when the run rose (well, that was the goal, but it wasn't always the result).

Today, as with most days, Rhett didn't wake up because of the sun. You'd think he'd be used to the sound of horses, after living on a ranch for his entire life.

But this, this was different. The horses that his father had trained, they didn't stampede towards the house like that. They had been taught better than to come to the house.

Rhette sat up, grabbed the Stetson hat covering his face, and looked out of the truck windows. "Shit," he muttered as he pulled on his shirt, covering up his bull rider tattoo. He placed his Stetson on his head and climbed out of the truck.

There he was, a pretty white horse with a dappling of grey spots on his ass. He was fully tacked up, wearing a saddle, a bridle, and some fancy ass boots around his legs. The mane was plaited, along with the tail.

"Woah there," he said as he approached the horse. Since cantering towards the Abbott house he had stopped to much on the grass. He raised his head towards Rhett, who held his hands up as he approached.

His eye ears went back and he let out a snort. Rhett slowed his steps. He reached his large hand towards the reins. But he couldn't get close enough, not without the horse rearing up. "Little shit," Rhett found himself muttering.

As the horse cantered to the back of the house, Rhett moved his truck, blocking the horse in. He climbed out of his truck and made his way around to the horse that definitely didn't belong here.

As he walked around to the back of the house, the kitchen window opened. "Who's horse is that?" His mother asked.

Rhett shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't seen it before, didn't know there was anything other than cowboys riding around Wabang. He certainly hadn't seen this fancy looking thing in the show jumping saddle.

When Rhett asked his mother for a carrot, she happily handed his over. As soon as Rhett had the carrot, it was easy enough to grab the horse. He was far more interested in the carrot than running away from Rhett. "Who are you?" Rhett asked as he held the reins and stroked down his face.

For a total of five minutes he put the grey horse in the barn while he grabbed his own. As soon as he was mounted, he grabbed the grey ponies reins and rode off.

Rhett was a cowboy. Rhett liked going fast. Rhett's horse was used to galloping across the field until they were out onto the rode. The grey horse was making it near impossible. He stayed at a stubborn walk when Rhett trotted off, stretching his neck out until Rhett could get no further away.

So, Rhett was stuck at a slow walk as he made his way around, looking for anybody that was missing a horse. Most of the usual cowboys, most of the usual other ranch owners, laughed when they saw the fancy pony following him.

Rhett let out a sigh as he began riding along the road towards the Abbott Ranch.

"Sparrow!"

Suddenly, the grey horse was pulling against him. Rhett didn't let go, though. He turned himself around to see a girl. She had a black hat on her head, but not like his Stetson. That one was for safety. Long, shiny black boots were on her feet and she wore these tight, black Jodhpurs.

Definitely not a cowgirl.

She ran over and grabbed a hold of the reins. "Oh, you are in so much trouble," she said and kissed the horses face. "Sparrow, I swear. You gave me a heart attack!" She pulled the hat from her head and tucked it beneath her arm as she kissed the pony a couple more times.

And then she turned to Rhett. He didn't recognise her, not at all. But her face twisted in confusion. "Rhett?" She asked. "Rhett Abbott?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, adjusting his Stetson on his head. "And you are?"

She held out her hand towards him and gave her his name. Rhett shook it. "I've seen you at the rodeo a few times," she said. "I... thank you for finding Sparrow. I thought he was ready to go out alone, but I think somebody needs a little more training," she said and released his hand.

Rhett swallowed. "I think he found me," he answered.

Immediately, her face dropped. "He... he broke onto your ranch?" She asked and Rhett couldn't help but grin as he nodded. "Shit, I'm so sorry!" She cried. "Let me know how I can make it up to you."

Rhett couldn't deny that she was cute. Not his usual type, not the usual cowgirls he had wearing his Stetson and riding his cock. Well, Rhett wanted to know more. "You can let me take you out f' a drink," he said, leaning forward.

He watched as she placed her foot in the metal stirrup (incredibly different from the one his foot was placed into), and climbed up into the saddle. Immediately, Sparrow was moving. He walked in an agitated circle as she tried to stay looking at Rhett. "So, if I want to find you, Sparrow should know where to go?"

"An' you can give me your number. Y'know, in case he forgets."

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott oneshot #rhett abbott x you #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer ranger fluff #outer range x you #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader

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sebsxphia · 1 year

Note

The “who hurt you “ trope but you show up at Rhetts door at 2am

-🥊😘

“who hurt you?”

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ c/w: mentions of violence and injury, descriptions of injury, mentions of abuse, swearing, kissing, rhett is a big softie who wants to protect you.

￫ a/n: @sandbarbirdie bIRDIE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS TROPE WITH RHETT, TURN THIS UPPP <3 i started writing this and it turned into a full fic, woah! i understand this topic is heavy so please, please dm or inbox me with any c/w that i’ve missed or if you just want to talk, i’m here to listen, always. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Rhett’s sure he heard the knocking on his front door. He was coming out of his slumber and couldn’t work out if it was in his dream, or real life, but then he heard the knocking again, far louder this time. He was sure that it was a pounding on his front door. He slipped on a pair of boxers from the day before and a plaid shirt was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. It was freezing during the Wabang winters now and he would be damned if he was going to catch a cold.

He padded down the stairs and into his hallway to hear another pounding. His door was shaking with the force. “I’m coming, Jesus fu—” He unlocked the door and opened it to see you with your hands wrapped tightly around your arms, and trying to incase some of the warmth into your shaking frame from the cold. You peered up at him and squinted your eyes at the warm brightness inside his home. The light purple bruise on your eye that was starting to form made it harder to look at him. The gash on the side of your temple was boring into your skull, with dried blood trickling down onto your cheek. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered under his breath and your name in tow, before ushering you quickly you inside.

He shed the plaid shirt and wrapped it around your quivering shoulders. He gently cupped your face in the hallway where you both stood still and tilted you up to look at him. He was hyper-aware that there could be other injuries he wasn’t aware of. You looked at him with guilt spreading across your face. It was sheepish almost, but Rhett wore a look of only worry on his face.

“Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and unwavering.

You were childhood sweethearts long ago and you’d both enjoyed your younger teenage years together and early adult lives, but things got in the way and you were no longer together.

“Shit happens,” Is what you told Rhett, however you found in the more recent months, you were getting closer to each other again. Sometimes you wondered late at night if you could ever truly tear apart from one another. The relationship you held with each other could never be argued about or even understood. The only thing he knew is that he would bury someone in the ground for you and protect you with his still, beating heart.

His eyes bore into yours awaiting your reply. He was waiting for the name of who he was going to ruin the next day. You knew your Rhett and his tendencies to loose all control over anyone who would even dare to look your way, so you opted for the safer option, not looking him in the eye when you told him. You pulled away from his soft hold and stumbled to the kitchen chair and slouched down. “Darren.” You muttered out, looking down at your scuffed cowboy boots, a gift from Rhett for your twenty first birthday.

“Darren.” Rhett repeated with a grunt and clenched fists by his sides. Darren was your new fling and while Rhett knew about him, and he knew he had no real hold on you anymore, it burned at his insides like acid. Rhett also knew he had no place to ask what you were doing with Darren, but he needed to know why you showed up at his door at two in the morning with blood running down your face and a nasty bruise forming on your eye.

Rhett reached for the first aid kit in the top kitchen cupboard and came to kneel by your side in the dimly lit kitchen. His nostrils were flared and you saw how he was trying to steady his breathing. Shallow and deep breaths came out of him, and you knew he was already plotting his downfall.

Rhett broke the tense silence first. “What the fuck did Darren do t’ you, angel?”

That name. Fuck sake. That fucking name. Rhett’s words were laced with venom, poised and ready to attack your attacker but the name “angel,” simply made tears swell in your eyes and it stung the bruised one. You remembered when Rhett called you angel. It was always during the softer times at night when your bodies were entwined with each other, talking about your future together, or when he consoled you after you didn’t get into your dream college.

“He wasn’t aiming for me. He went for some guy standing next to me, but he ducked at the right time and Darren’s fist met me instead.”

Rhett scoffed and made a mental note that Darren had a lazy punch. That would be good to know for tomorrow.

He dipped the cotton ball in the luke warm water and dabbed cautiously at the wound on your temple. You let out a hiss, gritting your teeth together and scrunching your eyes shut. Another groan left your chapped lips as the pain in your eye swelled from the scrunching. You felt one of Rhett’s hands rest on your jean clad thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze, his thumb running soothing circles over your flesh. “I know, I know. It’s gon’ sting, I’m sorry.” Rhett never apologised to anyone. Only you.

“If it were me punching some guy f’ you, I wouldn’t do it anywhere near you.”

You huffed out a small laugh at Rhett’s attempt to ease the pain. “I know. I remember.” You reminded him.

“Did you drive?”

You hesitated on your answer. No matter the response, it wasn’t going to help you try and hide what happened.

“No, I ran.”

Rhett’s eyebrows twisted downwards ever so slightly.

“I live a good mile away from town, angel.”

“After everything happened I screamed at Darren, like I lost it Rhett.” You twiddled with the hem of your t-shirt as Rhett continued to patch you up. You still couldn’t look at him. You felt shame clouding your senses. “He lost it back at me. I’d never seen him like that. I mean sure, we’ve only been dating like a month, but… But you really see peoples true colours when they’re drunk, huh.”

Your statement was laced with a double meaning. You remembered when Rhett got drunk, sure he would defend you within an inch of your life, but he would never scream at you. Never. He would cling to you all night and whisper sweet nothings in your ear about how you were the only one for him. It stung more than the wound on the side of your face to know that you might’ve lost that.

Rhett stuck a butterfly band aid to the side of your face and cleaned up the rest of your blood. “‘nd the gash?” He paused. “He punched you, angel. Y’ don’t get that after a blow t’ the eye.”

Now Rhett was finished with bandaging you up, he could slip his hands to yours and give them a light squeeze. He wanted you to know that he was here. He was going to listen to anything you had to say and reassure you with all his might. The tears that had pooled in your eyes from before were now slipping over and onto your cheeks. You held his gaze and bit your bottom lip harshly. You were trying to stop the sobs that wanted to tear from your throat. You winced as you reminisced what followed after and how you got the gash.

You didn’t need to say it, Rhett knew.

His eyes softened at seeing you like this. He wanted to reassure you that he heard you, but he felt a bile form in his throat. He could feel it threatening to spew out of him. The idea of someone intentionally hurting his angel made him nauseous.

“I was s’ scared. I didn’t know anywhere else to go, expect here.” You blubbered out between small sobs now leaving your throat. Rhett shuffled closer to you and removed his hands from yours to hold your face again, lovingly.

“You don’t have t’ be scared anymore, angel. Y’ can always find your way back home ‘ere.”

You nodded in his hands and gave him a thankful look with all you could muster without your face contorting into pain again.

“Can I stay with you tonight, Rhett? Please?”

Rhett was baffled that you even had to ask, but he understood that the injuries could very easily adhere your thinking.

“Of course, angel. I’ll always protect you.” A featherlight kiss was pressed to your cheek. He could taste your salty tears and it only made his insides wrench further in disgust at the man, no boy, who hurt you. No man would do this.

He bent down and wrapped his arms around your waist, and you instinctively hoisted yourself onto his. You rested your head into the crook of his shoulder. One hand cradled your legs as they attached to his hips and another softly smoothed over the back of your hair. You inhaled his familiar scent of cedar wood and spearmint. You felt safe as Rhett carried you to his bed that was once yours as well.

He sat you on what used to be your side of the bed and the mattress moved underneath you, as if to welcome your figure that once laid there. He gently shed you of his plaid shirt and your t-shirt underneath. In between the loss of your clothes, he pressed another feather light kiss to your cheek.

“You okay?” He checked in with you. When you nodded in response, he retrieved your old sleep shirt from his chest of drawers. He shed a slither of embarrassment at the prospect of still keeping your clothes, but it melted away when you accepted it with the first smile on your face that he had seen all evening.

“Arms up,” His voice was a soft instruction. You did as he asked and he slipped the top over you. It fitted like a warm hug, something that always fitted you perfectly. Just like Rhett. “I’ll help y’ take off y’ jeans now alright, angel?” He knelt down and brushed his fingers over the button and zipper. He un-did them with ease and slipped your jeans off. It was like you were a deer that he had seen in the forest who he didn’t want to spook. You’d always appreciated Rhett’s softer side.

However, his softness contorted into ferocious anger once again on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw the second graze on your kneecap. “I fell to my knees after, he— he—” Your voice wavered again and you felt the tears sting at your waterline once more.

“I know, angel. I know. It’s not as bad as the others, I can patch it up tomorrow, alright?” Rhett reached up to wipe the one tear off your cheek. His lips gently met your flesh just above the graze on your kneecap and you sniffled at his adoring touch.

All clothes and shoes were now shed, and he picked up the empty glass on his bedside table. He went to leave the room but you stopped him in the doorway with a hold on his wrist. You looked at him with a pleading look and a small pout on your lips. You didn’t want him to leave you.

“It’s okay, angel. I’m jus’ goin’ t’ the bathroom t’ get you some water.” You hesitantly let go and got back into bed, shuffling up to the headboard and tucking your knees under your chin.

The weight of the mattress dipped again when Rhett sat next to you. He held the glass at the base while your still trembling hands held onto one side, helping you drink. “I’ll fill it up again for the night ‘nd then come into bed with you, alright?” He pressed a kiss to your temple, the side that wasn’t injured. You nodded in response and pulled the covers over your body, and slouched down into the pillows.

They smelt like Rhett, and you inhaled his scent and hair products again, deeper this time. The smell that flooded your nostrils made you inhale deeply. You felt a breath you’d been holding onto all night slip out. Rhett came back and made his way round to the other side of the bed. He slinked in beside you and you could feel his fingers rest on your upper arm first, testing the waters. He felt you relax under his touch and he took it as a welcome signal. You shuffled back into him and he slid his arm around yours and pulled you into his warm chest, his chin resting just above your head.

Another kiss was placed to the top of your head and you heard Rhett speak up, his drawl coaxing his words. A familiarity you’d missed so much recently. “You’re safe, angel. I’m never lettin’ you go again.”

That was the last thing you heard Rhett murmur to you before you fell asleep in his arms. Safe at last.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@iloveprettyboysblog

#💌you’ve got mail #sandbarbirdie #<333 #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott drabble #lewis pullman #outer range

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bradshawsbaby · 20 days

Note

Rhett's family isn't super picky on their coffee, but at the diner one day they make a batch of local coffee and Rhett (who takes his coffee with two creams) notices it tastes different. The waitress explains a new shop just opened and they are switching to their brand. Rhett enters the shop, very western themed and chock full of blue collar men - only to realize that the shop owner and the sole barista is quite the stunner. Safe to say, Rhett starts taking his coffee in town each morning after that.

Oh my gosh, yes 😍

You’ve had the dream of opening your own coffee shop since you were in high school, but you’ve also grown tired of life in the big city and long for the comfort and community of a small town. So when the real estate agent you hired finds a commercial space available in Wabang, it seems like the perfect fit.

The locals are a little wary at first, but you quickly win them over with your charming, rustic decor and your delicious, no frills coffee and warm, buttery croissants. It’s not long before you have regulars, but the only one who gets your heart racing and your blood pumping is Rhett Abbott. It doesn’t take you long to learn that the local rodeo star has a reputation as a ladies’ man, but he’s never been anything but a gentleman every time you’ve interacted with him, always leaving a few dollars in your tip jar with a shy smile before tipping his hat in your direction and walking out the door.

You wish he would stay every once in a while.

After a week, you know his routine like the back of your hand. He comes into the shop every morning at 7:12 on the dot, and he always orders the same thing—a large hot coffee with two creams, no sugar. So you start to have it ready for him, a gesture that seems to startle him at first, but then draws out more of those small, tentative smiles that you’re growing to love so much.

It’s not until a month into this quiet little back and forth that Rhett walks into the shop one morning—at 7:12, just like clockwork—and you set down a ceramic mug in front of him instead of his usual to-go cup.

“All out of to-go cups and my delivery got delayed,” you lie through your teeth. “Guess you’ll just have to stay for your morning coffee. But I’ll throw in a free croissant for the inconvenience.”

Rhett’s blue eyes widen, but then a smile curves his lips. “Not an inconvenience at all,” he tells you, his voice low and raspy. “Mind if I sit right here?” he grins, hooking a thumb towards the empty stools sitting in front of the counter.

“Not at all,” you smile, butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Rhett Abbott was definitely your favorite customer.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett thoughts #outer range #lewis pullman

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attapullman · 2 months

Text

Good at Makin' Bad Decisions | Rhett Abbott

Summary: Even a year after you've broken up, after a night of drinking you still end up in Rhett Abbott's bed.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: f! reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, fingering, swearing, alcohol, healthy dash of praise k!nk as usual

A Note From Mo: I blame reading an old fic I desperately wanted to re-write and having covid, strep, and my period all at the same time for whatever the fuck this is. Anyway, happy 6 months since the last time I wrote Rhett! xoxo

There’s something about waking up in a bed that isn’t yours that causes an anxiety like none other. Especially when the night before is a hazy blur. And you aren’t wearing any pants.

Wait, where are your pants?

Creamy morning light bleeds through the thin plaid curtains in the room. From your spot half-buried under the comforter, you notice the vaguely familiar rodeo posters tacked up on the wall and dust-covered flannels on the floor. The slight tinge of boy sweat engulfs the room. Definitely not a Tillerson room, but who the fuck did you go home with?

A quick body scan results in these observations:

Your jeans were long gone, but cheekies and tshirt still remained.

Your head was splitting open from the axe of a bad hangover.

Based on the groan that did not come from your body, there was definitely another person in the bed. And they were awake.

You flip over in bed, panicked. Praying to God that beside you is some random Wabang townie. But you would know those dark, grown out curls anywhere. He may be turned toward the wall, but you know him better than you know yourself.

“Rhett?”

A tentative hand leaves the warm cocoon of blankets to roughly shove your ex’s shoulder. He grunts with consciousness and a veiny hand rises up to rub at his eyes. Takes a moment to rake through those unruly curls. Flipping over onto his back, bright ultramarine eyes quirk up at you.

“Good mornin’ to y’too, sunshine.”

It’s hard to remember everything you want to say when he’s looking entirely too delectable for the morning hours. Something you’d sweetly told him during your relationship, but after your swift uncoupling it’s downright rude of him.

“Why am I in your bed?” His eyes roll slightly as he lifts up onto his right arm, rolling the thick, labor-built muscles of his neck and back. It’s mesmerizing, watching him work out the kinks that come with his profession. Your eyes unable to leave where his hand massages over that bronc tattoo you’re still weak over. “We didn’t sleep together, did we?”

He’s sexy as hell, but you’ve been doing a really good job avoiding him the past year.

“D’ya not remember any of last night?” Your head shakes, cheeks heating. “Not even a little? Oh fuck, really? You had quite t’night, darlin’.”

The color completely drains from your face. In your hey day, the two of you could drink the bar under the table, stumbling out of the Handsome Gambler with the sloppiest grins and even sloppier kisses. Drunken shenanigans were the norm.

But since your breakup last year, nights out had been quiet. A beer or two, a tequila shot when the time called. Your friends don’t have the tolerance of a bull rider. And neither do you anymore, since you can’t remember much past that third shot of Don Julio.

How had you landed in bed with Rhett Abbott?

As you watch him roll out his other shoulder, it’s like no time has passed since that night. Sitting in his truck, the front porch light on as your roommates wait for you to come in. Deciding that if he’s gonna be traveling the mountain states to make a name for himself, it’s not fair for you to be sitting at home worrying what bone would break. You can’t take off weeks to follow him around. You’re too young to sit around pining. He can’t handle all that time away from you. It just makes sense to call it quits. And yet tears poured down both your cheeks when you shut that truck door for the last time, Rhett Abbott no longer your business.

Why are you here?

Blinking back the ghost of tears, you clear your throat. “What kind of night exactly?”

In the past, a night of too much tequila in Rhett’s bed would have had Royal knocking on the door at an ungodly hour and Cecelia giving you an exasperated yet playful look when you snuck out the back door in the morning.

“Do ya really want t’know what happened?” He’s leaning against the headboard, broad chest in view, sheets low on his hips. You say one last prayer that he’s wearing sweats so that you can still believe that you didn’t have a blackout fuck with your ex.

“I’m scared to ask,” you admit, the gentle smirk on his face confirming that this story is not going to paint you in a flattering light.

Rhett’s head tilts down as he laughs, teeth flashing as the hearty grumble fills the room. Looks back up at you with that boyish mischievous grin you’ve loved for years. There’s a pillow indent still marring his cheek. Your heart lurches for him, for when you could call him yours.

His lip quirks. “Ya threw a rock at m’window in the middle o’the night. Begged me to let ya in. Told ya to go home, but ya threatened t’wake up my folks.”

Your cheeks flame with shame. Drunk you was not in your corner.

“Snuck ya in the back door, like ol’ times. Said yer friends had dropped ya off, so let ya stay until ya sobered up.” The burning embarrassment lifts a little, imagining you quietly climbing in bed and sleeping. But that unruly mischievous smile is back. “Then ya started tellin’ me how much you miss my cock and asked t’go for a ride.”

A hole opening in the earth and swallowing you couldn’t make you escape this embarrassment.

“Please tell me I didn’t-”

“Oh, but y’did, darlin’. It wouldn’t be a drunk night out with ya without asking for m’fingers. Practically gagging for it as I got ya upstairs.” He’s radiating pride. You risk a glance at those thick, calloused fingers. Yep, you can see yourself begging for even just one of them.

“Then ya started strippin’ off yer pants…forgot how cute yer booty looks shakin’ like that.” He lets out a joyful grunt, the happiest sound a cowboy ever did make. “Had to hold yer hands to yer side to keep it from bein’ a free strip show.”

You swallow down every ounce of your dignity, the scene playing behind your eyes. Those strong hands wrapped around your biceps. Your cheeky comments, grinding your ass on any part of him you could. The lack of inhibitions on your part was concerning, but when had you ever been able to restrain yourself when it came to Rhett?

His giggles fade as you both sit against the rough wooden headboard, the one that is nearly as old as this creaky house. In the silence of the room you can now hear the busy sounds of his folks making breakfast. Figures they still have that louder than sin coffee machine. You could really use a cup.

He shifts beside you, the energy in the room softer. “Ya know, after y’fell asleep, I kept on thinkin’ about all the times ya stayed over here. Nights in the pasture. We were s’good…” He trails off, the silence filled with reminders of rushed kisses between rides, lazy afternoons on horseback, and too many days spent in the barn pretending to do chores while the two of you fell in love.

It was you. You couldn’t handle the broken bones. The purpled bruises week after week. He loved it, and you couldn’t take that from him. So you had left a part of yourself with him and spent the past year pretending like you weren’t missing a limb. It was him. He didn’t want to be always missing home. Canceling rides purely so he could drive hours back here. He cut his losses before he was in too deep, spending the last year acting like a chunk of his heart wasn’t permanently cemented in you.

When you two crossed paths in town you exchanged sad glances and half-hearted smiles. Nights at the Handsome Gambler a drink was raised in greeting. It was as painful and as amicable as a breakup could be. But this was the closest the two of you had been since that night in his truck. The most you’d spoken other than forced hello’s. The most you’d touched since that last kiss goodbye.

Looking into those impossibly deep oceans he calls eyes, there was an emotion that you couldn’t read. His smile gone, thin lips bitten as he worried them between his teeth. Mirth replaced with angst.

You need to get out of here.

“M’sorry for interrupting your night. You know my libido has her own brain when I drink. Give me ten and I’ll be out of your hair - think Ce will notice me going out the back door?”

You’re barely off the bed when an arm, all hard muscle and thick veins, wraps around your bicep and brings you to a warm chest. “I-I…just for a minute, ‘kay?”

It’s the best you’ve felt in so long. Safe, warm. He’d shaped perfectly to accommodate you. It’s only natural to scoot closer into him, blurring the lines of ended relationships to seek his comfort.

Rhett’s heartbeat is solid beneath your cheek, speed picking up when you curl into him and run your hand along his side. The rumble of his chest vibrates as he clears his throat. “Ya don’t have t’ leave. I like havin’ ya here, missed holding’ ya, yer so soft.”

You hum in agreement and then there’s a beat, and you can almost see the bashful grin splitting his face. “And yer s’sexy in those panties.”

At least you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

One of those perfectly large, comforting hands slides down your side, hitching your hip up so you can straddle his thigh. That thick expanse of pure muscle was exactly where you belonged.

You were already here, already embarrassed yourself. Might as well go the whole way.

“Rhett?” His eyes latch onto yours, eager to hear from you. “I don’t have to go. If you want to, uh, catch up?” If his hungry smirk wasn’t an indicator, the twitch in his boxers below speaks volumes.

Aware there’s an old house with no sound proofing and an entire family downstairs eating bacon, he rolls you over onto your back, rippling biceps boxing you in. That confident smirk that looks as in place in bed as it does atop a two ton bull. The hungover logic in your brain pleading you to go home not nearly as strong as the instant spring of your legs landing either side of his hips.

His lips ghost over yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitance. The slightest groan left you, eager to feel him. Taste him.

“Please…please don’t tease me.” His smirk is bordering on arrogant as you wrap impatient hands around strong shoulders. Your libido was making her triumphant return after not being satisfied the night before, pooling in the apex of your thighs as he presses against you. You want Rhett, and you want him now.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, a shadow of the real thing. “If y’can be quiet f’me, I’ll give you m’fingers, darlin’.”

Dignity fades to the back of your brain as you quickly nod at him, lips pressed close like a good girl.

Scruff scratches along your jaw as he hums along your skin, pressing his weight to one side as calloused fingers make their way south, slipping and catching against your soft skin. Both your eyes fluttering as cotton is pushed aside and he finds your clit, rubbing the softest of circles. His little chuckle at how wet you already are. Small whimpers leaving you before he finally tilts his head down to smother your lips in a warm, soft kiss.

Fuck, he’s an even better kisser than you remember.

Running a hand through those unruly curls, letting the dark hair tangle between your fingers as you fight to keep your moans contained. A struggle as he presses deliciously on the button, delighted at how you squirm against him. Lips ghosting against your ear as he moans your name. “Doin’ s’good for me.”

While his thumb continues its mind numbing descent on your clit, the tips of his fingers brush against your folds. He knows you love a tease, the promise of what’s to come. His special trick to getting you to your orgasm in less time than he rides a bull.

“R-Rhett.” Your voice is barely audible, struggling to keep yourself from screaming his name to the heavens. Your fingers never feel this good, nothing could ever be as satisfying as his touch. Your pathetic whimpers picking up speed as the blinding white pleasure threatened to overtake you.

“Are ya gonna cum for me, darlin’? Y’know y’want to. Cum for me, baby girl, show me how good I make y’feel.”

Scruff against your neck and jaw as he showers you in kisses, whispers praises in your ear, fingers stroking and rubbing and bringing you closer to the promised land. Slips that wild tongue between your lips, groaning at your familiar taste, and that’s all it takes.

A thousand years could pass and you would still remember how all-consuming every orgasm is that Rhett Abbott has given you. The flash behind your eyes, the constriction of your chest. Thanking the good Lord that Rhett’s tongue is deep in your mouth to shush the pleasured scream that threatens to escape.

You settle from your orgasm with soft kisses and his wet fingers trailing along your skin, soothing you. Not that it’s easy to be soothed when his erection is throbbing against your thigh. He’s hot and ready, prepared to take you all the ways he’s denied himself the past year.

You’re doing the mental math. Your ex giving you an orgasm isn’t that bad. Fucking him? That’s the kind of mistake you can’t undo and should be avoided.

But when you look in those midnight blue eyes, all reason hightails out the door. It’s just sex - not a relationship - you two are so good at sex. And it’s been so long since you’ve taken him for a proper ride.

Your fingers sink into the back of his boxers, itching to sink your fingers into the meat of his ass - hard and toned from hours riding. Tease him a little by pressing a kiss to that scruffy chin as he ushers you along, desperate to be inside you.

Just as you get the checkered material past his cheeks, there’s a knock at the door. Rhett’s a deer in the headlights above you; wide, scared eyes aimed at the door.

It’s Cecelia, speaking through the wood as she walks past with the laundry. “Rhett, hurry up, y’got chores in the barn.”

The two of you exchange a glance, relief at being in the clear.

“Oh, and sweetie? Since you’re still here, if you want breakfast, there’s some extra bacon.”

Abandoning my normal tag list since it's not Bob and tagging some fellow Rhett bb's who might enjoy: @bobfloydsbabe @sorchathered @bobgasm @auroralightsthesky @creatchie8 @just-in-case-iloveyou @ryebecca @sebsxphia @lewmagoo

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fan fiction #rhett abbott x you #outer range fan fiction #outer range smut

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ohtobeleah · 10 months

Text

Sticks & Stones // A ToE Blurb

Summary: The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment. And the one you find out you weren’t the only one who kept parenting secrets.

Warnings: Angst. Teenage hellion Odette Bradshaw. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Platonic Rhett Abbott x F!reader.

Word Count: 4k

-> Fade away from reality with the Terms of Endearment series here

I think throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. That had already been handled appropriately and most likely to a parenting degree that would be deemed acceptable by the other party.

“I remember this one time mum tore shreds off me after I got an after school detention.” This one can be titled: “The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment.”

Odette Fitch knew it wasn’t just because of the after school detention. She was big enough and grown enough to understand her wrongs as a teenager—but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

“I've never seen her like that before nor do I ever want to see her like that again.” Odette explained all the while she sat by the fire— burning bright orange and red embers in the fire pit Chase had built, explaining how Harrison, her threenager, got in trouble for kicking dirt in some poor kid’s eyes during free play at daycare. “I didnt understand why she was so mad, why she was so emotional but fuck dad–I get it now.”

“I don't think I know about this one?” Bradley shook his head softly as he took a sip from his beer bottle. “When did you get an after school detention?” Odette can't help but to chuckle, of course you hadn’t told him. You went off like no tomorrow which wasn't like you at all. Your tolerance for bullshit was usually pretty high–but that particular day Odette and her teenage antics had pushed you to a limit that even scared you. It was no wonder you never mentioned it to Bradley.

So, Dot spills the beans, she finishes her beer and settles a little further into the back of her camp chair and lulled her head to the side to tell her dear old dad about the time she saw you burn in.

Fourteen Years Earlier:

“When your father hears about this Odette you better count your lucky stars that he doesn't ship you out to Wabang or better yet, Australia!”

“It's not that big of a deal mum–” Dot trailed in behind you with her school bag slumped over her shoulder. She was too cool for school nowadays. “Everyone does it!” She’d been busted by a teacher, skipping P:E in favour of an excursion to the lake that bordered the school grounds. There was an old cabin out there one of the groundskeepers used to live in way back in the 70’s. Apparently it was haunted. Dot didn't think so. But she wanted to check it out nevertheless.

“You are not everyone, Odette, you are your own person with bodily autonomy and critical thinking skills and you should know better!” The consequences to Odette's actions had been a call from the principal's office in the middle of the day. You were beyond furious about being pulled away from work, work you were inundated with. What followed was a lengthy discussion with the schools guidance counsellor about your daughter's declining behaviour during class and her grade averages. Odette was smart; she just didn't apply herself–or just didn't see the point in doing so.

“Uncle Jake said you hated school! Said you hardly ever showed up and that when you did it was to work on stuff in the metal room.” Odette thought she had you backed into a corner as you stopped and turned on your heels. “Yeah, I know things.” It was then you pressed your lips together in a fine line and wished Jake was currently in the US to feel your wrath. But he wasn't. No, He was in Townsville Queensland. In fucking Australia. It said so on the google calendar that sat on your kitchen countertop. The one everyone used.

“Your uncle is a liar.” He wasn't. You hated school, it was hard being the smartest person in the room and feeling like you knew nothing all at the same time. You were a delinquent at best during your teenage years so the fact you had a teenage dirtbag yourself shouldn't have shocked you all that much. It didn't shock Jake that was for sure. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree he’d tell you when you'd call him just to rant about Odettes’ latest attempt at sending you to an early grave. “And we aren't talking about me, we’re talking about you and your grades and the fact you have an after school detention on Wednesday that I now have to leave work early to come and get your from when you know I work late Wednesdays!”

There was a small pause in the argument that had begun to bubble over and before you knew what was happening—Odette was challenging you without hesitation.

“Oh i’m so sorry you have to leave work, not like you spend enough time there anyway!” Dot hissed.

“Enough young lady, your father and I work hard to give you a good life.” That much was true—you never wanted your kids to grow up like you did. You’d do anything to keep a roof over their head and food in their mouths and keep clothes on their backs.

“Maybe if Mr Carson wasn't such a tight ass–” Dot mumbled under her breath as she sighed and rolled her eyes. This sucked. Everything sucked.

“Don't you blame anyone but yourself for this situation, Odette.” You pointed a stern finger at your daughter. “And be thankful it's me you're dealing with now and not your father, he’d be livid if he knew.” And then, Odette Bradshaw said it. For the first time ever she said something that tore your heart from your chest, rung it out like a wet sponge before discarding it in the trash.

“How can dad know about it!” She shouted. “He's in prison, remember?” Silence, Odette heard nothing but silence. No “Go to your room young lady.” or “You’re grounded.” Silence was all she heard as you stood there speechless trying to process what your daughter had just said to you. Odette took your silence as a leverage point, she thought she’d won the battle but decided to twist the knife a little deeper just to see how far she could push this new rhetoric. “Rooster isn't my real dad, so he doesn’t get to have a say in what I do and don't do.” Again you were speechless as you stood there with wide eyes trying to regulate the way your heart thumped against your chest. “And he's not even here mum! He's in the middle of the damn ocean somewhere so empty threats aside, I think I'll take my chances when he does come back.”

Odette really did think she had you beat when you didn't say a word. She smirked, reached for her school bag that she'd dumped by the leg of the table and slung it over her shoulder before turning on her heels. It was then through a haze of rage and repressed emotions that you let your daughter, your first born, the first love you had ever known, have it.

“Oh–fuck you kid!” You snapped through gritted teeth. Odette had never heard you swear before, let alone heard you swear at one of your three kids. “Fuck you!” When you said it again Odette just scoffed in shock. She was in utter disbelief.

“Did you really just say that?” She asked softly, confused.

“Yeah–yeah I really just said fuck you, and I mean how fucking dare you.” There was a rage behind your eyes Dot had never seen before. A sadness. “ After all I have done, after all that I have given to you, my life, my love, my body!” You paused as you stepped a little close to your daughter. “I broke my fucking vagina for that big fucking head of yours!” You spat, it was too much for Odette to compute as you spoke with venom lacing your tone. “And I had to be surgically sewn back together, I bet you didn't know that, did you? Well guess who does know? Your uncle because he was there! Not your fucking father!”

Odette didn't know that, She always just assumed that her dad had been there when you gave birth to her. Why wasn't he there she wondered? Why wasn’t he there to watch her be born?

“Oh and you calling him your dad, that's rich considering you have never known the man! So rich when the man who is your father, who is your dad in all the ways that matter most loves you so unconditionally that he adopted you as his own!” You were on a warpath and Odette was your target. “After all those years of your ‘father’ driving me insane with his abuse and his condescending ‘my loves’” You paused to hold back tears as flashes from your past played out like a rolodex behind your eyes. “He talked to me like I was worthless, treated me like trash until I got sick of it!”

“Mum?” Odette tried to interrupt as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“I wanted happiness Odette–” Was all you sobbed. “I deserve happiness! I’m a fucking human being Dot!” You tried to pull yourself together because this wasn't about you or what you wanted. You were a selfless mother who gave everything you had to your children and this was the most vulnerable any of them had ever seen you.

“Don't you dare bitch to me about my career, little miss ‘I’m so progressive!’ Yes! I worked my ass off to get where I am and I wanted it.” Flashbacks from the time Jake and your own guidance counsellor helped you graduate flashed before your eyes. They believed in you when most people didn't. When you didn't even believe in yourself.

“I wanted to mean something in this world! I didn’t know that was a fucking crime!?”

“Mum–” Odette was at a loss for words but nevertheless she still tried. You didn't let her speak. You weren’t done yet.

“Life isn't perfect, oaky baby? We don't get everything we want. But you’re young, you know, so go on, go make the perfect little life that you want and you see how fucking easy it is and stop bitching and complaining and blaiming me! after all I have ever done and all I will ever do has been in your best goddamn interest.”

It was Odette's turn to stand in silence, unsure of what to say back to you after your rant. It was clear she broke your heart—that much was evident, but Odette was too hot headed and knew what she thought was everything she ever needed to know. After all, she was fifteen.

“I’m—“ As Dot when to speak, you held your hand up in order to silence your daughter. She hated the tears that streamed down your face as you refused to look at her. “Mum?”

“Go to your room, I’ve got to go get your brother and sister from school.” Without another world, it was just Odette left in the big house that usually houses five souls at any given time. She felt sick to her stomach for upsetting you so much.

But as she heard the car start in the driveway she knew she wouldn’t apologise for it. You’d be fine. You were her mother—you had no choice but to love her even when you wanted to kill her.

Present Day:

“Now before you whoop my twenty nine year old ass, I did end up apologising and I did go to that detention and I’ve since learnt my lesson.” Dot scrambled to get all that out before Rooster had a chance to lean over and wrap his hands around his daughter’s throat.

You’d never told him about that, Rooster never would have known if his daughter didn’t spill the test fourteen years later. And even if fourteen years had past Bradley knew that you probably thought about that fight a lot.

“Your mother was right kid, I would have throttled you.” Bradley shook his head in disbelief, it was fourteen years ago but he was only finding out about it now. He felt like he was the last to know. He should have known, right?

Later that same evening when Bradley made his way home, he opened the front door to the smell of something homely simmering away on the stovetop. Homemade chicken and feta pesto pasta. One of his favourites.

The portion size had dwindled from five to four to three to two back to three over the years, with kids grown and flying in and out of the house without a second's notice. But the one thing that always remained the same was the love cooked into the food you prepared for your family. No matter how little or how much.

“Hey Roo.” You beamed as you took a sip from the glass of wine in your hand. You’d just finished cleaning up the kitchen after having used every possible surface available. “How’s Dot doing?”

“She’s good, Harrison’s giving her a little trouble but she’s good.” Bradley explained as he made his way over to you. “But—she actually told me a little story about a fight the two of you had?” It was the taunting tone your husband used that made you immediately feeling hot in the cheeks. Bradley wasted no time in trapping you between the countertop and his torso, with strong arms encompassing you. “The one where you—“

“No she didn’t!” You cupped a single hand over your mouth with wide eyes when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. “That little shit head I swore her to secrecy!” Bradley reached for your glass of wine, he took a sip before he pressed his lips together and leaned in to kiss your cheek softly from behind.”

“You never told me—“

“I didn’t want you knowing I swore at her.” You admitted. “You were deployed and I didn’t want you worrying about us at home and—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Rooster spun you around in his hood and had his lips on yours as he pressed you up against the kitchen counter top. His hands were firmly on your hips, holding you close to him lovingly.

“Before anything, I am a husband and a father first baby.” He reminded you as he let his forehead rest against yours. “I know why you didn’t tell me, and I’m not mad you didn’t because you handled it better than I probably would have—“ Bradley explained as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “But I wish you didn’t have to deal with those very real and very valid emotions by yourself.”

You paused for a brief moment, smiling up at your loving husband and the aroma of his favourite meal consumed the two of you.

“Well if it makes you feel any better baby I wasn’t entirely alone.” You explained as you got to work plating up a bowl of pesto pasta for your husband.

Fourteen Years Earlier:

What Dot didn’t see was the panic attack that overcame you to the point you had to pull over on the side of the road to let it take its course. Memories of that fateful night and that bloodied devil-like smirk flashed before your eyes. Even after all these years the mere mention of your ex brought you to your damn knees in a crumpled heap. He was a monster.

With Bradley deployed and Jake overseas a world away in the land down under, you reached for your phone and called the only person you knew would answer your call the first time round.

“Boys!” Rhett’s loud and boisterous voice travelled down the hall. He was standing in the kitchen making his seven year old boys lunch. Turkey and cheese on wholemeal bread. “Quit fuck assing around, come get your lunch!” As Rhett flung the tea towel over his shoulder and started to pack up the mess he’d made making lunch for his boys—he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. A loud thud came from the living room just around the corner—then? Complete and utter silence. If Rhett knew anything about his kids it’s that when a thud is followed by silence it’s usually not a good thing. “BOYS! you better both be alive when I round that corner!”

Rhett threw the butter and the block of cheese he’d mangled with a less than sharp butter knife into the fridge haphazardly before he kicked the fridge door shut with his boot. He wasted not a second of time, he needed to investigate the silence now shrouding the farmhouse. As he walked he fished his phone from his back pocket to see your name lighting up his caller ID. ‘Ace.’

“Hol’ on—m’ parentin’.” Rhett mumbled as he swiped the pad of his thumb across his screen and held his phone to his ear. Keep it there with his shoulder as he rounded the corner to see one of his twins, Liam, laying on the ground with his eyes closed. “LUKE!” Rhett bellowed into the phone, for a second it made you laugh because Rhett and parenting in the same sentence still made you smile. “What did you do to your brother huh?”

“He fell!” Luke ran out from behind the lounge and down the hall. “I didn’t touch him!” Rhett groaned in defeat as he scooped his son off the ground to make sure he was still alive. Yep. There was a heartbeat and breathe inside his lungs.

“I’m fine, I just need a minute—“ Liam mumbled. “And to not fix fences this afternoon.”

“You ain’t dead, dying or debilitated.” Rhett chuckled as he watched Liam side on the couch with deflated shoulders. “Go eat your lunch and find your brother before I do.” How the fuck was Rhett Abbott a dad? “We’re heading out at two.”

Liam groaned as he flung himself off the lounge and headed on into the kitchen. It was then Rhett exhaled a sigh and turned all his attention back to you—still waiting patiently on the other end of the line. “How much do you think I could get for two feral seven year olds?”

“Probably a little more than a fifteen year old delinquent.” You replied softly as you sat pulled over on the side of the road with your hazards on and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. “I’m sending her to live with you.” Rhett chuckled as he sat on the lounge and held his phone up to his ear.

“What she do this time?” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you and Rhett to call each other to discuss your children’s antics. Being separated and a co-parenting dad with two twin boys that hardly knew what he was doing, more often than not it was Rhett calling you. But on the odd occasion you called him? It made him feel validated in a sense that it was okay to not have everything under control all the time. “Y/n? What she do this time?”

“We were arguing about how she got an after school detention—“ You explained only a few details. “And then she hit me with the Bradley’s not her real dad argument when I said she was lucky he wasn’t here to reprimand her.” It knocked the wind right out of Rhett’s lungs. “She’s fifteen! I’m not ready to talk about this yet! She can’t know Rhett—she can’t—she—“ Rhett could tell by the rapid breathing and the panicked tone coming through the phone that you weren’t okay. He looked over to the little digital calendar in the corner of the living room that you all had and saw that Bradley was still on deployment for another two weeks.

“Ace, listen to me?” Rhett tried his best to console you as he rubbed a hand across his tired face. “You don’t have to tell her, no one will ever force you to tell her anything you don’t want her to know, but she’s a smart kid man—she’s gonna figure it out eventually.”

“Fuck you Rhett—“ That wasn’t the reaction Rhett was expecting but nevertheless it forced a chuckled from his chest. “You didn’t see the way she dug that knife in, she knew what she said and she meant it too.”

“Kids are brutal, teenagers are the worst.” Rhett replied. “It’s sticks and stones Ace, be the bigger person and just let her have this one.” You knew Rhett wasn’t invalidating your feelings, he was just giving you level headed advice.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nah—“ Rhett smiled with half his mouth as he watched his boys come back into the living room with their sandwiches. Both sitting in front of the TV to watch something Rhett could only assume was mind numbing. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV as a kid, but he wasn’t about to be like his father. “I’m serious, I think she won this round, but just because she KO’d you doesn’t mean you won’t get back up.”

“I hate you, you know that right?” You groaned into the phone. “Jake would have told me to take the door handle off her door and leave her in there for a week.” You knew that Jake would have been serious too. “I should have called him for moral support, not you and your rational responses.”

You needed level headedness though, you needed someone to pull you back from the edge of a full blown parenting breakdown and of all people it was Rhett Abbott who did so. He smiled to himself because he knew you’d be okay, he knew the tears had slowly begun to fade and he knew that when you got home? You’d still love your shit head of a daughter.

“That’s exactly why Hangman doesn’t have kids.”

Present Day:

There’s a barely twenty one year old emerging from his room right about the time Bradley has you sitting on the countertop while he stands between your legs. If anything the Bradshaw kids were exposed to public displays of affection more often than most kids were but that was because they had parents who were oh so in love.

For Nicky Bradshaws who’s home on a rare visit between trips overseas and dedicating his entire life to the sport he loved so much, the fact he watched his parents suck faces often throughout his childhood never made the sight any less gross.

Nick stood dead in his tracks as he watched his father stand between his mothers legs with his tongue in her mouth like he was starved of oxygen. He let his presence be known by clearing his throat.

“I still technically live here, you know.” Nick side eyed the two of you as Rooster stepped away to let you down from where he had you perched. It wasn’t a kiss laced with lust—but it had been a kiss filled with love for the woman who had built her own version of a perfect life. “I think I deserve to be able to use the common areas of the house without needing lasik after losing my vision after having walked in on you two getting in on.” Your youngest pointed between you and Bradley. “Y’all have a bedroom—use it.”

“It wasn’t like that honey.” You tapped your son on the chest. “Here, have some dinner before your father eats it all.”

“I heard Harry kicked dirt in some poor kid's eyes today.” Nick chuckled at the way his oldest sister had rung him up in the car. “Can’t say he isn’t hers now—“ Bradley laughed along with his son as you deadpanned the both of them. The look you sent them shut their laughter up real quick. “Oh come on ma! Admit it, she was a handful teen and you know it.”

“You weren’t perfect either Bud.” Rooster had your back before you even needed to defend Odette. “I still remember the time I caught that girl sneaking out of your room when you were fifteen—“ Immediately, before the sentence was even finished, Bradley knew he’d fucked up.

“What girl?” Your eyes went wide. “Nick? When did you have a girl in your room when you were fifteen?” Throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. “Bradley? What girl!?” You hissed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“It’s a long story Ma.” Nick replied with a mouthful of pasta.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not busy.” You turned to your husband who looked like a kicked puppy. He kept things from you too. And he kept this one from you for a good fucking reason—Nick had begged him to for his own safety.

Nick knew you’d throw sticks and stones at him if you found out he lost his virginity when he was just fifteen.

“Spill the beans boys.” You willed the pair of them to sit at the table. Nick shook his head in defiance with a mouthful of pasta.

“No thanks, I chose life.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw series #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradleybradshaw #rhett abbott x reader

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mothdruid · 1 year

Text

The Librarian

pairing: Rhett Abbott x Librarian fem!reader

summary: Rhett wasn't expecting to find you as the new librarian, let alone the one that was teaching Amy's summer reading program. Over the course of the summer program you two start casually dating, falling in love with one another.

wc: 10.3k

warnings: fluff, smut, 18+, mdni, pet names (mouse, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex, hand jobs, unprotected sex (p in v), alcohol use, swearing

a/n: finally! it's here! i hope you all enjoy it!

Rhett had been surprised when he heard that Cecilia signed Amy up for a summer reading program. Summer was meant for fun and helping out around the ranch, not having your nose stuffed in a book. Amy seemed happy about it though, so Rhett didn’t question it too much. What Rhett did question was why he had to go pick her up.

“It’s just for today, Rhett.” Rhett huffed and rolled his eyes for a moment. Rhett got to his feet, grabbing his ball cap and placing it on his head. Why couldn’t she just go pick her up? She was the one who enrolled Amy in the program anyways. Amy was a smart young girl, she made him proud to call her family. Sometimes he wondered how such a smart person had come out of their family. It wasn't that they weren't smart, just not necessarily book smart. Perry had been the only one who went to college, making Rhett hope Amy would eventually follow Perry's footsteps.

After Rhett muttered an agreement, he grabbed his keys and headed out to his truck. The ride into town wasn't too bad, hot like any other summer day. The heat like this reminded Rhett of his youth, days when he was much more concerned about looking cool than reading a book. A chuckle or two would come out when he thought about it by himself, remembering how much of a prick he used to be. He never spent much time in the library growing up, it was never something that interested him. It tended to just remind him of how much he had hated school.

Rhett pulled into the parking lot of the library, killing his engine with a twist of his keys. He waited for a moment before checking his phone.

pick up is inside the library - mom

Rhett rolled his eyes once more, exiting the vehicle and heading up to the doors. Sometimes he wondered how Wabang was able to have such a nice library. Afford one that wasn't falling apart. Rhett made his way in, finding his way up to the main desk. A middle aged woman greeted him, answering his question and pointing him in the right direction. Rhett walked past a few different areas before coming up on a slightly open space. Couches and tables with chairs littered the area with about fifteen kids sitting at them. Some kids were talking amongst themselves, while only a select few were actually reading.

"Can I help you?" A soft and oddly familiar voice interrupted his sight seeing. Rhett was surprised when he turned, seeing you looking at him. It had been years since he'd seen you, high school in all honesty. He hadn't even heard that you were back in town. He didn't remember you ever looking this cute.

"I.. I'm.." You smiled at him, watching as he tumbled over his words. He closed his mouth, jaw clenching as embarrassment plagued him.

"Well, hello to you too, Rhett. I'm assuming you're here for Amy?" Rhett nodded. Why couldn't he just fucking talk?

"When did you get here?" Rhett asked bluntly. One of your eyebrows raised, a little confused by the question.

"Do you mean when I showed up behind you? Or when did I come back to Wabang?"

"The second one." Finally, his words were working again. Rhett looked you up and down for a moment, taking in your brown overalls and white long sleeve shirt. You were holding onto a few children's books, a small silver necklace hanging around your neck.

"Earlier this year, got this job shortly after. I've been flying under the radar. Under your radar." It wasn't a secret that the two of you had a history. Throughout high school the two of you pined over one another, that was until Maria came along. It hurt a little at first, knowing that you weren't Rhett's first choice, but you also knew that his hormones were too high at the time. By junior year the two of you had moved on, only making small talk when needed during class or at school events.

Your family had always been singled out as the "weird" family in Wabang. It was mainly because your family didn't ranch. They didn't do anything relatively "normal" for the culture in Wabang, aside from taking you and your siblings to the rodeo every now and then. It had never bothered you, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that was why he had a crush. You were different, but not too far off. Always had your nose stuck in a book instead of trying to get fucked after the Friday night football game.

Rhett let out an amused noise at your confession.

"That so?" Rhett smiled at you, the curve gathering to one side of his mouth.

"No, it's not. Just pushing your buttons." There it was, that odd quirkiness that seemed to pull Rhett in so long ago. He watched you give him a wink before you walked over to Amy. She was sitting at a table alone, reading a book. His heart warmed as he watched you tap Amy's shoulder for her attention. You leaned over and whispered that Rhett was here to pick her up. Amy immediately lit up, excited that her uncle was the one retrieving her.

Amy quickly gathered up all of her things, shoving her book into her backpack before you walked her over to Rhett. "I didn't know you were getting me today." Amy said with a bit of excitement. Rhett smiled at her words.

"Neither did I." Amy giggled quietly as she started to head towards the front of the library. Rhett nodded his head at you, a soft smile still plastered on his lips.

"I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around cowboy."

Rhett couldn’t believe that he volunteered to pick Amy up. Again. Rhett was finding him picking her up from her reading program more often than he wanted to admit. It had been two full weeks into June, meaning the program was one third of the way done. Cecilia informed him after the first day that it was a six week program. Six lucky weeks that Amy got to spend with you.

Rhett didn’t want to admit that he was going to see you. But he knew deep down that was the main reason. Seeing you for not even a full five minutes was slowly becoming the highlight of his days. Amy and Cecilia also started to notice his happy demeanor after picking her up.

“What’s got you so uppity?” Cecilia asked when they walked through the door. A devilish smirk appeared on Amy’s face. She set her backpack down near the table. Rhett rolled his eyes at the both of them, setting his keys on the table.

“Uncle Rhett likes the librarian.” Rhett narrowed his eyes at her, a look of disbelief on his face. Amy giggled as she watched Rhett shake his head at her and held his finger up to his lips. It was supposed to be their secret, one they didn’t speak about. Cecilia turned around with a smirk on her face.

“It ain’t Mrs. Benson, is it?” Cecilia joked with Amy. Rhett gave her a simple ‘what the fuck’ face, listening to Amy giggle some more.

“No, Grandma! Mrs. Benson’s too old for Uncle Rhett. It’s Miss Y/LN.” Cecilia raised an eyebrow, acting surprised. It wasn’t like she had forgotten who you were, or who your family was. She remembered Rhett talking about you a little bit in high school, and how you would volunteer at the local old folks home. Cecilia had always known you were a kind soul, something she knew that might work out Rhett's rough edges. Amy trotted off to the stairs, running up the steps quickly to go search her room for something.

“Rhett..” He gave her a curious look, not exactly able to pinpoint the tone in her voice. Cecilia threw her dish towel up over her shoulder, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“What ‘ma?” Rhett didn’t like her silence. He slowly started to recognize the situation more than the tone of her voice.

“That’s Amy’s teacher right now. You can’t be messing anyth-”

“I ain’t messing anything up, ‘ma. Besides.. She’d be too smart for me anyways.” Rhett smiled while he thought about you. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Feel more than just the urge to fuck. It was an urge to meet you, learn everything about you, the ins and outs of your very essence.

“Well someone has to be smart enough to look out for you. Lord knows me and Perry can’t do it forever.” Rhett’s gaze flicked up at her from that table, a glint in his look. He hated to admit it was the truth. He wasn’t rushing to settle down anytime soon, but he sure did yearn for it from time to time. And one of those times happened to be now.

Which is what led him to now. Sitting in the parking lot of the library, twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive. His foot was tapping on the floor near the gas pedal, his nerves finally starting to get to him. After the conversation with Cecilia, he planned to ask you out. But now it was one week later, three full weeks into the summer program. He looked up at the ceiling of his truck, pulling the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes. “Fuck.”

Rhett moved out of his truck, finally deciding that this was it. It was now or never. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Benson who gave him a small smile. “You’re early, Rhett.” He nodded his head to her, walking up to the front desk.

“I know Mrs. Benson, I was hoping to talk with Miss Y/LN. I don’t want to interrupt the kids though.” Rhett whispered to her with a smile. It was a partial truth, he didn’t want to interrupt them. He also didn’t want them to see him ask out their summer learning teacher. Mrs. Benson gave him a knowing look. Was it actually that obvious?

“She’s in the back room. There will be a door all the way down the third aisle of the non-fiction area. Just over there.” Mrs. Benson pointed in a direction near where the kids would be, but not that exact spot. Rhett tipped his hat and gave her a nod with a thank you. He headed off to find you, making sure he didn’t get lost somewhere in the library. Perry would never let him live that down.

Rhett peaked around the corner of what he thought was the third aisle. He was rewarded by seeing an open door at the end of it. He made his way down the aisle, knocking on the wooden door frame when he got to the doorway. He poked his head in, looking around in the old store room. It wasn’t very big, but sizable. There were three aisles within the room, made by many bookshelves that housed old, unused, and extra copies of books.

“Come in!” He recognized your voice immediately. There was a small rustling noise that came from the third aisle, letting him know where to find you. After a few steps into the room he peered around, finding you on your tip-toes trying to grab a book from above.

“Need any help?” Rhett asked, hoping you would entertain his offer. He took in your outfit, a knee length maroon skirt with a neatly tucked in beige button down. A pair of slip-on black Toms covered your feet, which you rolled back onto after not reaching the book. You looked down the aisle at him, surprised to see him, a small smile covered your lips.

“Some help would be much appreciated. Normally,” he made his way down the aisle, “there is a stool. But it is MIA today apparently.” Rhett nodded with a smile, reaching for the book you pointed at. You checked your watch, seeing there was another fifteen minutes before pick up. “Pretty early today, Rhett.”

“Yeah,” he handed the book to you and watched you flip the pages, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, that so?” You looked at him, his warm oases staring down to meet your own eyes.

“Yeah, it is.” You moved back, leaning against the wall behind you. Rhett moved to stand in front of you, your hands clutching the book to your chest. Your heart fluttered, this exact situation being something you had dreamed about since meeting him. You could tell something was different, he was a little different. It wasn’t just the awkward small talk the two of you had while he picked Amy up.

“Well, go on.” Rhett bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking about the right way to ask you. He had been over it multiple times prior, but now his mind was failing him.

“Would you like to go out? Like to dinner or something.” Rhett ran his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling your gaze away from his. You watched as the slick muscle glided over the dry skin, wetting it thoroughly. Rhett took notice and moved a little bit closer to you. Your cheeks filled with a warmth when you noticed how close he was, only a few inches away.

“I-I would like that, Rhett.” He never thought he would be able to get someone as articulate as you, to stumble over her words. You looked away for a brief moment, turning your head to look down the hallway. Rhett brought a finger up to your cheek, gently pulling your face back to face him. A soft smile matched his soft gaze. He tipped his hat up, leaning closer to you.

When his lips pressed against your it was like fireworks went off. It was gentle, a gentleness you were surprised Rhett had inside of him. One of his hands moved to your waist, just resting, while the other cupped your jaw and cheek. Three weeks of small talk and ruminating on memories had finally come to a precipice. The kiss wasn’t anything crazy, maybe the beginnings of what could have been an intense makeout. Rhett pulled back, the hand on your waist moved to adjust his hat a little bit. His thumb was rubbing your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“When do you want me to pick you up?”

“There ain’t no way.”

“No, I’m being serious!” The two of you had moved to the Handsome Gambler after diner, deciding to get a few drinks.

“How am I supposed to believe that little ol’ you stole a traffic cone?” Rhett could barely picture it in his brain. University years you drunkenly toting home a traffic cone. Not to mention the fact you were apparently living in the dorms at the time.

“I was different then, more wild.” You sipped at your cider while watching him. That dopey smile appeared again, making your heart flutter. It was true that your years at university were a bit more wild. Experiencing everything that wasn’t little ol’ Wabang was exciting at the time. You tried to experience as much as you could while at university. Partying, drinking, smoking, fucking, etc. It was all new and something you needed to try, at least once.

“I just,” Rhett leaned across the table a little bit as his voice lowered, “can’t really picture it.” You cocked your head to the side, giving him a questioning look.

“Picture what, Mr. Abbott?” Rhett felt a heat rise to his cheeks at your words. Mr. Abbott had always been a title reserved for his father, but he couldn't ignore what it stirred up in him. He leaned back into the booth seat, his hand holding his beer firmly on the table.

"Picture you out partying and what not. I'm just used to you being a little bookmouse." Rhett was mentally kicking himself in the ass. Bookmouse? What the hell was that?

"A bookmouse?" Rhett flushed even more, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Yeah," Rhett thumbed the rim of his glass bottle, "cause you liked books and were quiet." Another flutter. You couldn't help but smile at Rhett's cuteness. The way he was talking, both awkwardly and confidently, made you giggle.

"Well, this bookmouse did a lot more than just read books at university." You winked at him. Rhett's mind swirled with possibilities of what you meant. He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself in his pants. "Maybe I'll show you some day."

Rhett raised an eyebrow at your proposition. Fuck, he liked the sound of that. He leaned over the table one more time, "How's about we get out of here?" Eyes flicking towards the door.

"I'd love to but," Rhett's eyebrows knitted together, "I gotta get stuff ready for the kids tomorrow." Rhett had almost forgotten that it was the middle of the week. He actually had forgotten until you grounded him. Rhett nodded, jaw clenching in a casual way. He wasn’t annoyed at you, more or less annoyed with the situation. Rhett loved that you enjoyed helping the kids with reading, making sure they grew up smart. Just like you.

“How’s about,” you mocked with a glint in your eye, “you take me home, cowboy?” Rhett smirked at your request, watching you finish off your bottle of cider. He nodded and finished off his own drink. He climbed out of the booth and offered his hand out to you. You gladly took it, lacing your arm around his.

The walk to his truck was full of giggles, your feet not wanting to keep you balanced. It had been awhile since you decided to drink, mainly leaving it back in your university days. Rhett was there for every stumble though, a smile plastered on his face while he caught you. When the two of you got to his truck you leaned near the rear fender, staring at him. A soft giggle came out of you, earning you a cute questioning face from Rhett.

“Hmm?” Rhett crept closer to you, his hands grabbing the top of the truck's bed. Rhett had effectively caged you between him and his truck. “What’s got you gigglin’ like that?” Rhett leaned towards you, bringing a hand up to tip up the brim of his hat. Rhett was only a few inches away from your face. Rhett couldn’t get enough of this, seeing you nearly pinned underneath him.

“You’re cute.” Rhett could smell a hint of cider on your breath, lacing your words while you talked. “I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.” Rhett tilted his head so his lips were near your ear, “And that could be arranged.” Rhett’s hand traveled down to your waist. You squinted at him, remembering your words from earlier.

“We can’t do anything tho-” The hand that was on the truck came to your cheek as his lips covered yours. It was another gentle kiss, just like the one earlier in the back room. Your hands rested against his chest while his lips worked over yours.

“We don’t have to.” Rhett didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He wanted this to work out. He yearned for it to work out. “I’ll help you get stuff ready for the kids, promise.” Rhett pressed a small kiss to your cheek before removing himself from you. He stepped towards the passenger side door, opening it and gesturing for you to climb in. “Hop on in.”

The ride back to your little house was quick, not too far out of town. You always deemed yourself lucky by getting somewhere this close in town, not out in the middle of nowhere. Rhett’s hand sat planted on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles during the ride. Rhett made sure to get the door for you, offering his hand to stabilize you when you stepped out of his truck. A smile spread across his face when he saw the inside of your place. Art adorned the walls while the shelves of your bookcases were packed full. It was messy but neat, something Rhett always found captivating about you.

“Whatcha think?” You toed your shoes off while you looked at him, balancing yourself against the wall. Rhett took off his own boots then followed you into the kitchen.

“It’s you.” Rhett couldn’t think of any other way your house would be. It felt homey. It felt like you. You grabbed out two glasses from the cabinet, filling them up with water from the sink. You offered him one, which he reluctantly accepted. Water wasn’t his favorite type of drink, but it would do for now. Rhett placed his hat on your kitchen table, sitting down while you sat across from him.

For the rest of the night the two of you joked while getting around your items for the program. Rhett questioned your choices of coloring pages, while you pressured him to drink more water to sober up. A warmth had spread all over him, knowing this is the spot he wanted to be. He wanted to be here helping you get wax paper ready for sun catchers, and laughing about the embarrassing old things the two of you had done.

“Sleep is finally catching up with me.” You checked your phone briefly, seeing how late it was. Rhett hadn’t realized how late it actually was. A part of him was surprised that you were even up this late. He thought you might be the type that went to bed at 10pm almost every night.

“It’s about time I left then.” Rhett didn’t want to leave, he wished he could stay forever. He reached for his hat, fingers barely touching it when he spoke up.

“Or you could stay.” Your eyes met his, watching as his tongue wetted his bottom lip. Rhett tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. The proposition was too tempting.

“Would that be okay?” His cerulean eyes never left yours. After a moment you averted your eyes and nodded. The two of you placed your cups in the sink before making your way back to your bedroom. A nervousness was settling inside of you, a part of you worried that things would get out of hand. Rhett noticed this and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you in so his chest was pressed against your back. “It’ll be okay, we won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Rhett wouldn’t admit it, but he was also nervous. Nervous to finally have you in this manner, something so domestic. It was scary, opening himself up to someone. It was more terrifying than riding a thousand pound bull. The thrill was much different though. “I don’t have any pants for you to sleep in.” Rhett nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll wear my underwear, if that’s fine.” You reassured him that that was okay before moving out of his grasp. You dug into your own dresser, finding your own sleep shorts and then an old t-shirt. You excused yourself to the bathroom, taking your clothes to change into. You hadn’t expected your nerves to ramp up.

After you brushed your teeth and changed you made your way back to your bedroom. Rhett sat on the edge of his bed, typing out something on his phone. He had shucked off his pants and flannel while you were gone, sitting in his grey boxer briefs and white t-shirt. A flutter stirred inside your chest, making your nerves jump up again. Rhett set his phone on the side table before noticing you were back.

“Oh, hey.” A small smile covered his lips when he saw you. God, you were so fucking beautiful. He took in your messy hair and old Wabang High t-shirt, one that he probably also had laying around somewhere.

“There is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.” Rhett nodded before standing up. He stopped next to you, bringing a hand up to your cheek. A small kiss was placed on your forehead. Rhett’s thumb rubbed softly against your cheek until he left for the bathroom. You climbed into bed, a loving smile on your face.

Many thoughts swirled around in your head but one specifically stood out. He is the one you would want to do this with every night. He is the one you wanted to be domestic with. The one you didn’t want to screw up with. Rhett was the one.

The sound of your alarm woke you up first. You quickly turned it off, not wanting the blaring noise to continue any longer. When you laid back down a firm arm wrapped around your midsection. It reminded you that there was someone else inside of your bed. Rhett Abbott. He was pulling you back into his toned chest.

Heat radiated from his chest to your back, igniting a flame inside of you. This is everything you ever wanted. The man you had always wanted curled up behind you, keeping you close to him. If it wasn’t for having to work you would lay here all day with him. Rolling around in the sheets, the both of you treating each other to all the pleasures you had to offer. But alas, the library was calling. You went to sit up, the firm arm not releasing you.

“Don’t.” His voice was gruff, soaked in sleep still. When you looked at him he kept his face pressed into your shoulder blade, rutting his hips into your ass lightly. The heat in your chest moved up to your cheeks, his erect cock pressing into the flesh of your ass. A small part of you loved that he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hide the effect you had on him, especially so early in the morning.

“Rhett, I have to.” Rhett nuzzled into you, pressing his hips harder into your ass. Rhett was really trying to get you to stay, tempting you with something you both wanted. You didn’t have intentions of giving in fully, but what would be the harm and giving him something to remember?

Rhett’s hand gripped on your hip, you rolling your ass back onto his cock. A groan emanated out of him. “Fuck.” You pulled back from him and rolled over to face him. Rhett moved onto his back as you shifted to hover over him slightly. Your hand snaked under the blanket, palming his dick under the covers. Rhett let out a few more groans and profanities, eventually pushing the blanket down to his mid thigh.

Rhett’s breath was a touch shaky as you dipped your hand below the elastic band. His hips bucked slightly when you fully grasped his cock. Rhett groaned at the contact of your soft hand on his cock. “Fuck, darlin’.” His head fell back into the pillows as you watched him, feeling his cock pulse under your touch. Rhett’s hands drifted to push his boxer briefs down, letting you get a full view of everything. Rhett looked back up at you, oases warm and inviting as ever.

You connected your lips with his, consuming his groans while you continued to stroke his cock. His hips bucked every now and then, trying to get more friction. When you pulled back from the kiss, you moved your mouth down over his cock in your hand. After stopping your strokes you locked eyes with Rhett, letting a large glob of spit fall off your tongue to his cock in your hand. Rhett groaned as you resumed your strokes, a new slick feeling to your hand. You ran your thumb over his head every now and then, collecting his precum to mix with your spit.

“So dirty.” It was all Rhett could say as his hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up to him. He smashed his lips into yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You never thought Rhett could get this needy, but god did you love it. Rhett’s cock started to twitch more often in your hand, signaling his orgasm was approaching. You pressed your forehead to his when you pulled back from the kiss. Then as faint as a whisper you heard him speak. “Please.”

“Give it to me Rhett, let go.” Rhett’s free hand moved to push up his t-shirt, showing off his flexing abdomen. Without another second Rhett was spilling his cum on your hand and his stomach. A ragged ‘fuck’ fell from his lips, with whimpers mixed with groans following. You stroked him through his orgasm, his hips stuttering and bucking with every stroke. Rhett couldn’t remember the last time a hand job made him feel this good.

Rhett laid there, blissed out on the bed. Rhett could barely focus on the world around him, only focusing on the amazing hand job he just had. He was pulled back from his thoughts when he felt a warm wet washcloth drag over his stomach, He groaned softly when you wiped off his cock, cleaning off all potential left over cum.

Rhett smiled as he watched you toss the washcloth into the hamper, moving back over to him on the bed. “That enough to hold you over?” Rhett pulled his boxer briefs back up around his waist. He leaned up and kissed you, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“More than enough.”

For the next three weeks Rhett made it a point to show up for pick up early. He would seek you down in the library, not caring if you were with the kids or not. If you were with the kids he would patiently wait, scanning whatever bookshelves were closest. That’s where you caught him today.

“Gonna start reading anytime soon?” Rhett looked up from the shelf to see you. You were wearing a pair of mom jeans today, something you corrected him on a few weeks ago. The baggy sweater you wore complimented them. Rhett put on a little bit of an embarrassed smile as you crept a bit closer. He took his cowboy hat, leaning in a bit closer to you. He was only a few inches away from you now.

He couldn’t help but stare at you. How did he manage to actually capture your attention? Someone this ethereal giving him the time of day seemed like a dream. Your eyes flicked from his cerulean eyes to his lips. Rhett brought his hat up to the side of your faces, shielding anyone from seeing the two of you. It felt like the heat of the library had been turned up a few degrees.

Just as he was about to kiss you, you put your hand up to his chest. Rhett stopped immediately, not wanting to push too far. It wasn’t that he was worried about you not wanting him. You definitely wanted him, or at least that’s what he picked up on from late night texts and pictures you had sent him. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want any of the kids to see.” Rhett smiled. That was one thing he had learned to love about you within the few weeks. Even though they tended to be too much sometimes, you always thought of your summer program kids first.

“You’re right,” Rhett took a step back from you, “wouldn’t want them to get any ideas.” He placed his hat back on his head.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the work area for the kids. They were reading, as usual. You had told Rhett that this was the best way to get the kids to calm down before handing them back to their parents. Amy had always been a relatively calm kid, so he couldn’t imagine what she’d be like riled up.

“End of the week?” Rhett was counting down the days. Waiting for the end of the program to finally show up. Waiting for the night he could take you out, show you how much he cared about you. Rhett ashamedly couldn’t wait to bed you either. His own hand was starting to get boring, the only thing spicing it up was the half naked photos you sent him accompanied by texts about what you’d like to do with him. His brain clung to the memory of you jerking him off, something he couldn’t let go of. Which made the next day extra special.

Rhett barely got a lick of sleep that night, fisting his dick harshly until he came to the picture you sent him. It was as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Sending a picture in this old cowboy hat you had found somewhere, black lace bra and panties on display. It was a good thing that Rhett wasn’t a religious man, because he would definitely be condemned to hell after this month.

So, Rhett made sure to show up to the library an hour early that day, not just fifteen or twenty minutes. Mrs. Benson politely told him that you were in the back room again, a bit of a confused look on her face. He bee-lined for the back room, silently walking in and closing the door behind him. He made sure to switch the lock on the back room door before looking up and down the aisles for you. He found you in the third aisle, in just the outfit he needed you to wear for his plan. He had double checked in the morning, asking for an outfit picture which earned a small winky face with a picture.

The plaid skirt flared out from your hips, stopping at a little bit before your knees. A baggy cardigan covered your top, making Rhett wonder if you had a tank top or anything underneath it. God, he wished he could have done this sooner.

“Hey.” Rhett watched you jump slightly, spooked by his presence.

“Oh my god, Rhett. You scared me.” You held your hand over your chest, Rhett’s eyes trailing to look at your fingertips touching the bare skin of your clavicle. Nope, no tank top. It was the skin he craved to mark up, leave little trails that you could remember him by daily.

“Wasn’t my intention.” He flashed a crooked smile as he took a few steps closer. You could tell there was something different about him today, almost as if he was stalking you. When he reached you he pecked your cheek, making your heart flutter. You loved that he still had this effect on you. You checked your wristwatch, realizing he was much earlier than normal.

“What’s got you coming in so early? There ain’t another hour, well, forty-five-ish minutes before you have to be here.” You went to turn back to face the shelf but Rhett grabbed your wrist.

“Wanted to give you a surprise.” Rhett walked around you, guiding you so your back was almost against the bookshelf.

“A surprise? I don’t recall you saying you had one for me.” Rhett chuckled at your words, leaning in and kissing your jawline.

“Wouldn’ be much of a surprise then, now would it?” Rhett’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping every now and then. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest and shoulders, the material of his flannel soft under your fingertips. One of his hands settled on your waist while the other cradled the other side of your jaw and neck. A soft noise escaped you, urging Rhett to continue with his plan.

“Been waiting weeks,” he lips were soft on your neck in between words, “waiting patiently.” The hand on your waist found the bottom of your baggy cardigan. It was thrilling when he pushed it up slightly, his calloused fingertips grazing over the newly exposed skin.

“Rhett, I-”

“I locked the door.” He pulled back, pupils blown wide with lust as he stared at you. “Wanna make you feel good, the same way you did to me.” You checked your wrist watch again, seeing there was still forty minutes before you had to get the kids ready to leave.

“You better make it quickly then, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett groaned at the title you called him. You had picked up on it throughout the weeks, noticing how his breath would hitch after hearing it. Rhett smashed his lips into yours, a messy kiss pursuing.

The hand grazing your skin under your cardigan moved to the front of your skirt. Fingers dipped between the apex of your thighs, pressing tightly on your pussy. A moan was torn out of you, not expecting Rhett to do this. Was this the surprise he was talking about? It had to be. The hand on your pussy left your body, Rhett pulling back for a moment.

“I wanna taste you.” It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, slightly worried about the situation. What if someone were to walk in? Rhett did say he locked the door though. Finally you spoke.

“Depends on how quick you can be, Mr. Abbott.” A smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, Rhett started to drop to his knees. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt, barely brushing the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can be quick.” The heat in your cheeks boiled as you nodded your head. He pushed the plaid skirt up your thighs, kissing newly exposed skin. “Hold this.” Rhett said as he offered the edge of your skirt to you. You grabbed the material, holding it in your hands tightly. Rhett let out a groan when he saw your soft pink lace panties.

Without warning Rhett pressed his fingers against your panties, rubbing softly at first. Rhett could feel a wetness soaking through the front of your panties. He watched as your hands tightened on your skirt, faltering slightly. His hand touched yours, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Keep your skirt up, sweetheart.” Your cheeks burned at the pet name he had started to call you through the weeks.

Rhett moved closer, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He slowly guided them down your legs, taking them off and sneakily placing them in his back pocket. He pressed quick kisses to your thighs before reaching your bare cunt. Rhett pushed his tongue between your folds, licking at your clit. You used one hand to hold your skirt, stabilizing yourself with the bookshelf behind you.

Your mouth hung agape as Rhett flicked and licked at your pussy. One of his arms wrapped under your thigh, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. You gripped the shelf behind you tighter, pleasure mounting inside of you. Rhett brought a hand up, slipping a finger inside of your entrance. It was a stretch, but it wasn’t enough. The sensation made you yearn for more, yearn for more of Rhett to be inside of you.

“Rhett..” His name was barely a whisper on your lips, trying to stay quiet. You looked over at your wrist watch once more, noticing only ten minutes had passed. Rhett pushed another finger inside of you, earning a moan as your head lolled back. His two fingers thrusted into you as his mouth gave all its attention to your clit.

“You taste so good.” Rhett whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Been thinking about this for weeks.” The hand on your skirt tightened a little bit more, your hips starting to cant forward. You started to roll your hips against Rhett’s mouth, the vibrations from one of his groans adding to your pleasure. Rhett’s fingers prodded at that sensitive spot inside of you, increasing the speed of his tongue flicking your clit.

With that combination you let go, coming all over Rhett's mouth. Rhett’s tongue switched from the quick flicks to slow languid strokes, helping not to overstimulate you too much. Soft moans poured out of you, riding out your climax on Rhett’s tongue. Rhett pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you empty inside. A strong desire within you wished he would fill you again, with his cock this time. But you knew that there wouldn’t be any time for that.

Rhett helped lower your leg down, standing up and making sure you were stable. You let your skirt fall, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You brought his hand up to his mouth, taking the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits, making him groan and adjust himself in his jeans.

“You’re so dirty.” Rhett whispered against your cheek, his forehead resting against your temple. “Told you you tasted good, don’t ya?” You nodded. You popped off of his fingers, licking your lips afterwards.

“Can I get my underwear back?” You asked playfully. Rhett smirked again, giving you your answer. “Really?”

“It’s my prize, sweetheart.”

The two of you left the back room, earning a questioning look from Mrs. Benson. It was only ten minutes before the other children's parents would start showing up. Rhett hung around and chatted with you, letting Amy keep reading her book. Which ended up with her still reading after all of the other kids had left. Rhett said she could use the time, but you knew the real reason why he was hanging around.

It was a Friday night, which meant the summer program was over. It had ended that morning, Rhett showing up early to pick Amy up for the last time. He hadn’t mentioned this ride all week, probably not wanting to pressure you into coming. But you wouldn’t have considered it pressuring, you wanted to see him.

Rhett was beyond happy to see you out at his competition tonight. Even more happy when you gave him a small kiss, telling him to break a leg. It was something you had picked up in college, your theater friends explaining that it was bad luck to wish someone good luck before a show. Which you had explained to Rhett briefly one night while the two of you were cuddled up watching a movie. Rhett couldn’t help but think that was what saved him during his ride, when his hand felt like it was gonna slip from the rope. It didn’t though, finishing his ride without anything bad happening.

Tonight was the first time he was allowed to show any type of overly affectionate PDA. Finding you after his ride couldn’t come soon enough. You were hanging out near the rider area, patient as always. Rhett just needed you, needed to thank you for everything. You let out a squeal when his arms snaked around you, picking you up and spinning you around. You quickly grabbed for your glasses, making sure they wouldn’t fall off your face. Hoots and howls could be heard from the other riders. Rhett tipped his hat after he set you down, hand caressing your jawline. His lips connected with yours, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

It was a gentle kiss, like a lot of the kisses you had shared so far. Kisses at the library, when he took you home after dinner, on the couch cuddled up. So many gentle kisses before, but this one was different. It was something unspoken in this one. An unspoken amount of love for one another.

“Let me take you home.” He whispered, adrenaline still pumping through his system. Rhett hunted down Perry, instructing him to drive his truck home. Perry gave him a knowing look before telling him he was proud of him.

Your heart raced as you sat in the passenger seat, Rhett driving the both of you back. His hand was glued to the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles. It wasn’t that you were nervous to be with Rhett, that was not it. It was the gravity of the day. The two of you had been keeping things as steady as possible, not wanting anything to get too convoluted while you were teaching Amy. But you weren’t teaching her anymore. The two of you were essentially free now, free to be together to the fullest extent.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to.” You looked at Rhett, his eyes flicking over to you before focusing back on the road. You adjusted your glasses, “I’m not nervous about doing it or anything.”

“I mean you did promise to show me your wild side one day.” Rhett snickered, remembering the first night the two of you went out.

“I think your surprise at the library counted as that.” You shot him a playful glare as the two of you pulled into your driveway. “It’s just..” Your words trailed off, biting at your lower lip.

“Jus’ what?” There was a short silence. The look on your face was softer now, not as playful. But Rhett could tell you were struggling with something, there was clearly something on your mind. He reached out, rough fingertips gently guided your face to look at his. Rhett knew it had to be now that he told you the thing he had wanted to tell you for weeks.

“I love you.” The two of you said it at the same, confessing your love for one another. You let out a giggle as Rhett flashed you a big smile. He leaned in towards you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lips moved heatedly on yours, consuming everything you had to offer. His hand shifted to the curve of your jaw, fingers splaying out near your ear. The kiss continued for a moment longer before you both pulled back for air.

“Inside, now.” You demanded.

Rhett killed the engine while you got out. His hand snaked around your waist when you got to the door. While you pulled your keys out, Rhett’s hand sneaked into the back pocket of your jeans. A brief squeeze on your ass had you shooting him a look. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss onto your neck. “Who locks their door out here?”

“It’s an old habit from the big city.” You explained while you slid the key inside the lock. “Plus, I don’t want any unwanted critters inside.” The two of you stumbled in the doorway, Rhett still close by your side.

“Is that what I am? Unwanted critter?” Rhett joked, hands pulling you flush against him after closing the door. You giggled as he started nipping at your neck.

“Don’t think I’d tell an unwanted critter I love him.” Rhett chuckled at your response. The two of you headed through the hallway, hands and lips traveling all over each other. Rhett’s flannel and hat had been lost in the living room, yours in the hallway.

Once to your bedroom, Rhett started to take a bit more control. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them tight to his. You could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans, his belt buckle digging into your hip. One hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek while kissing you roughly. He kept walking you back until the bed hit the back of your knees. The kiss broke as you went to lay down on the bed, Rhett following you immediately.

"You look so beautiful." Rhett said as he admired your beauty. He finally had you laid out underneath him, a dream come true. His hands ghosted over your sides, grabbing at your hips and pulling them tightly to his. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers combing up through the hairs on the nape of his neck. Rhett’s mouth worked on your neck, groaning as he left a wet trail along your skin.

A small giggle came out of you as he nosed along up your neck. He kissed up your jaw before pulling up to look at you, “What’s got you gigglin’”?

“Oh nothing, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett rutted his hips into you harshly at the name.

“You better watch yourself with saying that.”

“What? Don’t like it, Mr. Abbott.” You teased. Rhett groaned, fingers grabbing your chin tightly.

“You know what that does to me.” You pulled him down and connected your lips with his. The both of you smiled into the kiss as your hips rocked together. His hands moved to the hem of your t-shirt, pushing up the shirt to get access to your skin. Fingers ghosted and trailed up the skin of your midsection. He pushed the shirt up over your chest, exposing the light pink lace of your bralette. Your back arched when he grabbed your breasts, kneading over the lace.

“Like what you see?” You only half joked.

“You have no idea.” Rhett tugged at your shirt more, signaling it was time to remove the article. After your shirt was gone Rhett kissed the valley between your breasts. His hands kneading at your flesh while kissing your chest. His fingers slipped underneath the band of your bralette, guiding it up over your head.

It was the first time he had seen your bare breasts. Yeah, you had sent pics of you in lingerie to him, but never anything completely bare. He pressed a few more kisses all over your chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched slightly, his mouth consuming more of your breast. His thumb and forefinger started pinching and rolling your other nipple. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly.

“Rhett.” His name was barely a whisper on your lips. You could feel him groan around your nipple when your hand trailed down between the two of you. You palmed the front of his jeans, his cock pressing hard against your hand. Rhett sat up, pulling his own shirt off and undoing his belt buckle and jeans. After he shucked them off he moved to undo your jeans.

“A matching set?” Rhett questioned when he saw the light pink lace panties. You had planned it out all week, knowing that you would finally have a moment like this. A moment of being completely vulnerable to Rhett. His fingers ghosted up over your legs as he settled between your legs. You felt completely bare under his warm oasis of a gaze. A bit of nervousness flowed through you, nodding softly as a response to his question.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?” You shot him a little look. The little name took you by surprise, a small call back to your first night at the bar. Fingertips trailed over the pink lace covering your core. Rhett started rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt, feeling the small wet patch that had started to form. His gaze locked with yours as you let moans and gasps fall from your lips. His hands moved to the edges of the lace, pulling them down slowly over your legs.

After tossing the panties somewhere behind him, he grabbed one of your ankles and lifted it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your ankle. Soft lips continued down the inside of your leg, Rhett slowly settling against the bed. His hot breath fanned over your cunt, your insides clenching at the sensation. Rhett wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked in place before he even started.

Rhett’s tongue flattened on your clit, licking slowly. Both of your hands snaked down, one landing on the comforter while the other took its place in Rhett’s hair. Your back arched, pleasure flowing through you with each lick of his tongue. One of his arms left your thigh, reaching out to your hand on the comforter. He laced his fingers with yours as he continued his feast between your thighs.

Gasps and moans mixed in with calls of Rhett’s name, urging him to continue. Small vibrations could be felt from Rhett’s groans, pushing you closer to your climax. The tightening sensation in your abdomen was becoming more noticeable. Rhett flicked his tongue on your clit then dragged it slowly back and forth.

“Holy fuck…” You could almost feel the smirk on his lips. Rhett flicked his tongue more intensely on your clit, finally pushing you over the edge.

This was a similar sensation that Rhett got from riding bulls, pure ecstasy. All Rhett could think was how beautiful you looked, coming all over his mouth. The way your back arched off the bed, hand tightening against his own. Seeing you give yourself up to him, letting him push you over the edge in such an intimate way had him grinding against the bed. Rhett couldn’t help but think about how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. Being connected at your core.

When he pulled back you finally got a break, your chest falling heavily. A small trail of wet kisses was created as Rhett moved back up your body. He nuzzled your neck and jaw, pressing more kisses before capturing your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good, mouse.” You rolled your eyes.

“My turn to taste you.” You pressed your hand on his chest, acting as if you were going to roll the two of you over.

“Nah,” Rhett grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours, “I can’t wait to be in you any longer. Been waitin' too many weeks for this.” You rolled your hips up, feeling Rhett’s clothed cock press against your cunt. A groan rumbled in Rhett's throat while he captured your lips with his. One of his hands snaked down between the two of you, pushing his boxers down.

A moan passed your lips when you felt his cock rest against your pussy. Rhett haphazardly pushed his boxers all the way off. You brought your hand down to wrap around his cock. He groaned at the few strokes you gave him before you guided the tip to your entrance. Rhett propped himself up, looking down at you as his hips pushed forward.

Rhett watched as your jaw went slack. The stretch of his cock was intoxicating, filling you up the more his hips pushed forward. Your eyes never left Rhett's, warm oases welcoming you. A small whimper left Rhett once he bottomed out. Your warmth encapsulated him, letting him know this was where he was meant to be. Rhett eventually broke the stare, nuzzling down into your clavicle. Small kisses were peppered all over your skin.

Rhett dragged his hips back a little, slowly pushing forward the small amount. The sensation already had your body shivering with pleasure. Rhett started slowly rolling his hips, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. He knew that the chances of this activity happening again were high, but he just needed for this moment to last. You wrapped one arm around Rhett's left shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair once more. Your other hand rested on the front of his chest.

"God, you're perfect." Rhett groaned, placing kisses along your neck and jawline. He knew sex would be special with you, but life-changing wasn't what he was expecting. The way your body reacted to every small touch had Rhett teetering on the edge of climax already.

"Rhett, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, to caught up in the waves of pleasure flowing through you.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Rhett pulled back to look down at you, cupping the side of your face. "Tell me."

"Harder."

Rhett pulled back, leaving just the tip inside of you. He kept his eyes on your face as he slammed back in hard. Your whole body reacted, back arching while your hands scrambled for purchase. Your mouth was agape as sinful sounds poured from it. Rhett kept this steady pace of hard thrusts, giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Oh fuck, Rhett!" The head of his cock pounded into the sensitive spot inside of you. Every time he hit it, a new jolt of pleasure ran through you. The coil in your lower abdomen was tight, about ready to snap and send you over the edge. You could tell Rhett was getting close too, harder breaths coming from him. Rhett didn't say a word, his hand moving between the two of you to rub your clit. That's when it was game over.

The combination of his fingers on your clit and powerful thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge. Pleasure washed over your nerves, Rhett’s finger still working your clit. Rhett groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. His thrusts started to stutter, focusing on the feeling of your walls working his cock. Crescent shapes formed in Rhett’s skin, your nails digging harshly as he kept your orgasm going.

“Fuck, sweetheart. The way you feel,” Rhett pressed his forehead to yours, “I ain’t gon’ last.” You nodded as you stared into his eyes. It was Rhett’s turn for his mouth to be agape, groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Your fingers threaded into Rhett’s hair once more, pulling him down to the nuzzle against your clavicle. Rhett felt safe with you, rutting into your warmth that he had craved for weeks. It was a sense of security, something he had never truly felt in his life.

“Fuck, I love you.” Rhett whispered against your skin.

“I love you too, Rhett.” With those four words and his name he was gone. His hips steadied as he thrusted into you one last time. Small kisses littered your collarbones as he kept his hips tight to yours, spilling his cum inside of you.

The two of you laid there for sometime, Rhett still slotted between your thighs as your fingers traced small circles on his shoulder blades. He traced a small pattern along your side, basking in the subsiding afterglow. That sense of security was blanketed over him. He never wanted it to end, wanting to feel this safe forever. A part of him wondered how he had never felt it before but he knew why. He hadn’t had you before. Not just in a sexual way, but he had never fully experienced this kind of love. The love that let him know he was always welcome. Always loved.

“Hmm?” You questioned, sensing a tiny shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t a bad shift, something much softer than what you thought Rhett might be capable of.

“Nothin’, I just..” Rhett propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. Your beauty was something Rhett could still marvel at. Like watching the early morning sun rise. “You make me feel something.” Small butterflies could be felt in your stomach.

“Feel what?” Rhett smiled, pushing some hair back from your face.

“Welcome.” A kiss. “Safe.” Another kiss. “Happy.” Another kiss. “Loved.” A final kiss. A warmth had raised into your cheeks. The smile on his face was one that was pure. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, just taking one another in. Rhett shifted, pulling himself out of you. Even though he was softened it still felt like you were losing something. Rhett moved to the spot on the bed next to you. You rolled on your side to look at him, letting out a soft noise as his cum started leaking out of you.

“We should clean up and talk.” The look he gave you was one full of sincerity.

“Talk about what?” You questioned. You used a playful tone to mask the tiny amount of anxiety you suddenly had. Rhett must have noticed because he cupped your cheek when he sat up.

“Don’t worry,” he pressed a kiss to your nose, “it’s nothin’ bad, mouse.”

The two of you made your way to the bathroom. Rhett used a warm washcloth to clean himself up, you sitting on the toilet watching him. It was domestic, something you could get used to. Might even let him clean you up the next time. Rhett kissed your forehead before heading back to the bedroom, letting you finish using the toilet and cleaning up.

Rhett had climbed under the comforter when you got back, his boxers being the only thing he wore. He was checking his phone briefly before looking at you, placing his phone on the side table. You moved to your dresser, grabbing a large t-shirt from the drawer. You didn’t bother with any underwear, climbing into bed and curling up next to Rhett. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

“So-”

“I th-” The both of you stopped and giggled. Rhett motioned for you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to talk about.” Rhett nodded, thumb rubbing softly on your skin.

“I want to talk about us.” Rhett was never great with conveying his emotions through words.

“What about us?” You teased. Rhett rolled his eyes.

“About how I want to,” Rhet paused for a moment, “want to be with you.”

“Rhett, you ju-”

“No,” Rhett bite his lower lip, “I want you more than physically. I want to be with you all the time.” You knew what he was asking of you. It was funny to watch him still beat around the bush after everything.

“Rhett, I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me.” You said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes once more, letting out a sigh.

“You really gon’ make m-” Rhett was cut off by you pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rhett, I want to be with you too.” Rhett smiled as he kissed you again. His arms wrapped around you completely, rolling the two of you over. He peppered you with kisses, happiness spreading over the both of you. Rhett couldn’t be happier with you, happier with his little bookmouse.

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