#attapullman

[bobfloydsbabe]

happy blurb night!!!! can't wait for all the treats you bless us with!

so many delicious ideas, but...

'hold still. this might sting a little.' with songwriter!bob + piper

i can just see all the tension while tending to the other's wound 🫠

omg hiiiii morgan! i had a feeling you would request for our favorite songwriters, and i certainly hope this lives up to your expectations! enjoy these two being the blindest idiots in the world ✨

BLURB NIGHT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: blood but not graphic. strictly 18+

“Bobby?”

Her voice is faint, but he hears it clear as day. He dries off his hands, tosses the dish towel onto the counter, and meets Piper at her bathroom door.

She’s paler than normal, hair pulled back into a haphazard bun to get it out of her face, and has a towel wrapped around her hand. A towel with red stains on it that looks suspiciously like blood.

“What is it?” He just spent 20 minutes cleaning up a shattered glass on the kitchen floor. He knows exactly what’s going on.

She steps back into the bathroom, allowing him to follow her inside. He takes in the scene before him. An open first aid kit sits on the counter with supplies and bloody tissues strewn all over the table and in the sink.

“I think the bleeding stopped,” she explains.

He shakes his eyes, his brows furrowing. “Pipes, if it’s still bleeding, we should go to urgent care.” She goes stark-still, so frozen in place he’s not sure she’s even breathing anymore. He really should know by now not to throw around suggestions like that—if there’s anything that makes Piper feel physically sick, it’s hospitals. The irony is not lost on either of them.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and reaches for her towel wrapped hand. “Can I?”

Her dark eyes dart across his face, but she nods. He unwraps the towel and finds a cut that probably needs stitches, but he’ll never get Piper to cross the threshold of an emergency room. Unless he drugged her first, that is.

“I can’t get a good enough look,” he mumbles, twisting her hand in a way that has to be painful. She doesn’t flinch, though. “Can you jump on the counter for me? Just so I get some better light.”

“Sure.” She turns to the counter, pushing a few things to the side so there’s enough room for her to sit, but after that, she doesn’t move. He’s about to ask if she’s okay when she turns back to him with a sheepish look on her face. “Give me a boost?”

The air in the bathroom thickens as he closes the short distance between them. When he puts his hands on her waist, he tries not to notice that they span almost the entirety of her ribs, and when he lifts her up, he ignores that she’s light as a feather.

A balmy haze settles around them as their breaths mingle, and maybe he takes too long to remove his hands because she shivers against his touch. “May I?” he asks again and gestures at her hand.

She offers it to him without hesitation. Her hand dwarfs in his, sending a vision of them elsewhere on his body through his mind. On a mission of exploration, he’d be powerless and unwilling to stop. As he examines the cut, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time that he willed his infatuation with Piper away years ago. He sacrificed his feelings in favor of writing songs with her.

Sometimes he still curses that choice.

A glint catches his eye. “There’s glass in the cut.”

“What?” Her voice is so small it makes him look up, and what little color remained has drained from her face.

“I need to get it out.” He reaches for the first aid kit, rifling through it for anti-septic wipes. He asks for tweezers and when he’s disinfected them, he takes her hand in his again and meets her panicked gaze. “Do you trust me?”

She rolls her eyes, which he takes as a good sign. “I’m about to let you poke me with tweezers. I think we’re beyond trust, Bobby.”

He allows himself a smile, thanking his lucky stars he’s not squeamish. As the tweezers draw nearer, Piper fidgets with her other hand, making it impossible for him to get close. “Hold still,” he warns. “This might sting a little.”

“Not helping,” she grumbles, but to her credit, she holds still while he grabs the tiny shard of glass and removes it. She hisses when it pulls at the cut, but it’s over before she can make a bigger deal out of it.

He inspects the wound, but finds no other obvious signs of glass, though he still suggests she goes to urgent care to get it looked at by someone who knows what they’re doing and who isn’t half-blind.

She leans her head down to stare directly into his eyes, her breath a delicate breeze against his mouth. He involuntarily wets his lips. “Absolutely not,” she whispers, leaving no room for debate. She pushes at his shoulders, forcing him to take a step back so she’s able to jump off the counter.

For a moment, they stand there watching each other. The tension still lingers in the air, waves of electricity flaring between them. If this was a movie, this would be the moment where they fell together in a passionate kiss.

But this isn’t a movie.

I'M OBSESSED WITH THEM.

[baezen]

you are doing a convincing job of making me think NZ is another dimension because how do you not know what a snickerdoodle is?

how do i know you americans aren't fucking with me? hm?

[delopsia]

hi! hello! happy birthday, lovely! may this year bring you peace, contentment, and fun adventures!

the vase i'm choosing is harrison

my flower is dahlia 🌸

and the method i'm sending my flower is pigeon post

title: Ass-et Audit

Aaaa thank you, lovely :D Join my Birthday Bouquet Event! 💐

"This is demeaning on so many levels."

"And who's fault is that?" You sputter, heels digging into the cheap carpet, hot in the face, panting for breath as you lean back and pull. 

No dice.

"Listen," that thick material stretches in Harrison's hands as he gives it another tug, but even as you suck in another gasp and pull with him, it doesn't fucking move. "I didn't intentionally put my weight there. Take it up with my genetics!"

You give up just as your knees crumble out from under you, falling onto the changing room bench without an ounce of notice. No amount of manpower will get that damn wetsuit past the curve of his ass. And if by some miracle it does squeeze past, some poor minimum wage employee is gonna have to find scissors to cut it off. 

And yet Harrison is entirely unphased, twisting in the mirror to get a better look at himself. "I still think a medium will fit me," he muses as if the entirety of the suit isn't snug against the thick, meaty swell of him, red and chafed from the amount of squeezing you've put it through.

Your hand darts out, grabbing a greedy handful, mesmerized by how it jiggles. "Baby, you've got too much ass for a medium."

Even with the suit bunched up at his front, you can see the way his cock jerks. 

"It's not that big," he grumbles, daring enough to let his lips fall into a pout. As if having an ass the size of Texas is some kind of curse. 

Maybe it is because you can't keep your hands off of it. Squeezing it with both hands now, deliberately kneading your weary fingers into the fatty flesh there. It's hard not to become entranced by it. How his hips try to jerk forward at first, then hesitantly swivel back into you, a little too eager for more. 

Daring, one hand slips down, peeling the suit away from his thighs, the tips of your fingers venturing to trace the soft area just behind his balls. The spot that always makes him rise up onto his tiptoes with a shaky little whine.

"So I'm...you think..." his eyes fall shut, pushing backward all of a sudden, "...large?" 

The corner of your lip rises, already beginning to curl your arm past his hip, slipping past that coarse nest of curls to wrap your hand around—

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific, Knott."

In this poorly closed-off changing room, with its half-walls and God knows how many people around, Harrison tilts his head back with a silent groan.

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

🌿 for the summertime asks!

thank you so much, mo! <3

🌿 who is your favourite character you've ever written?

hmmmm.... fanfic-wise, i'd say, Bobby or Nadine Ross from Uncharted was also fun to write (even tho I never finished her series...). For original works, it's a toss-up between Damien, ruthless vampire with a surprisingly hard "nope"-line when it's about kids from my novella, and Cory, the art teacher/painter from my current military romance wip. She just embodies a lot of me as well and writing her (and the two male mcs) feels like a therapy session rn. when i do get energy to write.

summertime writers' asks

[callsignspark]

elle my dear! please tell me more about all-american bitch with our favourite cowboy!

ohh this is a favorite! this is actually a companion piece to come home to me! it focuses more on Wren’s background, and it’ll flip back and forth between past moments of teenage Rhett and Wren, and current day them! snippet below the cut!

ask me about my wips!

August 15, 2010

“Where is she, Rhett?”

“Who?” Big, blue eyes blink up at Cecelia, dirt smudges mixing with freckles that have been darkening since school ended. It amazes her how at 13 he can be so tall but have the same face as the little baby she gave birth to during that freak April snowstorm.

“Who?” Royal scoffs, rolling his eyes at his youngest son. “The only she you’re friends with. That Johnson girl - what’s her name?”

“Wren!” Perry jeers from the couch, orange popsicle dripping on his brand new Kenny Chesney shirt. “Rhett’s little bird!”

“Shut up, Perry! Don’t you have to go call your girlfriend? Or did she break up with you again?”

“Rhett!” His mom yells when her oldest’s face turns a familiar shade of red.

The same feeling as before claws at his scrawny chest.

Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.

“He started it!”

“And I’m ending it.” The metal pie plate that had been Rhett’s great-great-grandmother’s rattles into its spot on the shelf, ending the conversation.

All the windows in the house shake a few seconds later, the front door slamming with a strength no one knew Rhett possessed.

Royal blinks at the umbrella stand that tipped over, “What the hell is wrong with him now?”

“Her mom came to pick her up, Mrs. J was crying real hard.” Perry says quietly, watching the shadow of his baby brother disappear around the barn. “Something about her grandma.”

“Shit!” The Abbott men flinch in surprise as Cecelia slams her hands against the counter, paying no attention to the antique pie plate that clangs to the floor as she follows her son’s path out the door.

Royal sighs and stands, feeling older than ever as he ushers Perry to the back door. “C’mon, we gotta finish the fence today.”

“What about-“

“Don’t worry about Rhett. He helps enough when you’re away at school, we can do one afternoon without him while his best friend’s grandma is dying.”

“Dying?” Perry echoes, craning his neck towards the barn; trying to catch a glimpse of whatever is happening in there.

“Yeah. It’s lung cancer, according to your mom, and it’s bad.”

“Shit…”

Royal nods, wiping a hand down his face. It really would be easier with both of his boys, but he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from his wife if he tries to drag Rhett with them. So he’ll settle for just his oldest son, the one who doesn’t care if the ranch lives or dies.

[rosesvioletshardy]

🎄 Send these trees to ten people you wish to have a good holiday and a happy new year!🎄🥰

aw tysm <3 i hope you have a good holiday as well

[beyondthesefourwalls]

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

This is both the sweetest and hottest thing all at the same time. Hot damn🥵

Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert. 

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him. 

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it. 

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea. 

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else? 

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night. 

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul. 

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread. 

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?” 

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath. 

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh. 

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust. 

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours. 

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic. 

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans. 

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock. 

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate. 

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him. 

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock. 

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm. 

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck. 

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming. 

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts. 

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes. 

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours. 

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.” 

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer. 

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @comishkat @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @erospecies @hauntedduckdefendor @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @livingoutsidethetardis @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @melsunshine @meg-ro @midnightmagpiemama @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @pinkdaisies9285 @primroseluna @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @topherwrites @unpretty-reader @whoeverineedtobe @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any fic

[sorchathered]

First off, your new theme is so cute!!!!! 🌸

And for the ask game: 🛼🪐

Thank you my love!!

🛼- Whoo my goodness, this latest wip is the snb spinoff about Bradley so I’d say the emojis would be ☕️👶🎭🤬📱

🪐- Life hasn’t been kind lately tbh but there’s always good in it. 1. Demon baby has really progressed in his speech the past two weeks, he’s had a delay but you wouldn’t know it with how well he’s been communicating lately. 2. I got to see my friends this weekend and it was super nice to get out. 3. Cherry blossoms should start blooming next week and I cannot wait, it’s always like magic when the trees are in bloom.

Ask game

[rosesvioletspullman]

ily!!! hope you had a good valentine’s day <3

[bobfloydsbabe]

"I believe I could make you do it." with our favourite professor and teaching assistant 😵‍💫

Morgan, my love, this is an excellent choice for Bob and Imogen. It took me a hot minute to come up with a scenario that made sense for them, but I think I got there in the end. Here's a ~450 word blurb. Enjoy ✨

sinful prompts open for: eccentric professor bob

18+ | MINORS DNI

“I believe I could make you do it.”

She turns her head, looking at the professor who’s lying next to her on the bed, chest heaving and covered in sweat. His face and neck flushed a deep rosy shade, and his hair mussed.

“Do what?”

He rolls on top of her, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. His skin is hot against hers as he leans into her neck, leaving languid and wet kisses there.

“Beg for it.”

Imogen snorts. “You think you can make me beg? Please.”

Her hands roam his back, tracing the muscle patterns along his spine and feels his shoulder blades move when he raises his head to look at her.

“I can,” he insists, letting his hands run along the column of her neck, and over her breast. “I’ll make you cry out my name and beg for my cock.”

He closes his mouth around her nipple, teasing it with his teeth, and her back arches off the mattress at the sensation. She’s still sensitive after their previous activities, but her thighs rub together of their own volition.

He moves to her other nipple and groans when she digs her nails into his back.

“So soft,” he mumbles against her skin as he crawls lower. “All mine.”

His possessiveness should terrify her, but it doesn’t. It fills her with a carnal desire that he worships her like this, and everyone who came before will never compare.

Her hands find his hair and she tries to push him lower to where she wants him, but he tuts at her. “Someone’s desperate,” he mutters as his fingertips trace a line over her hips and down to her thighs.

“Please, Professor,” she whines when his breath fans over the tops of her thighs, impossibly close to her wetness. “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he says, fingers running along the inside of her thighs and one knuckle grazing her clit, making her gasp.

“I need your mouth.”

“I don’t hear you begging yet.” He runs a finger along her slit with a featherlight touch, and she writhes and pants, dangerously close to doing what he wants.

“Professor,” she whimpers, scooting down towards him to increase the pressure of his touch.

“Ah ah,” he warns. He places a palm against her stomach, holding her in place. “Beg. Beg for my mouth, my touch.”

She shakes her head, whole body trembling with need. “Never.” The word sounds breathless even to herself.

“Do it,” he demands, voice dark and dangerous. “Beg for my cock.”

[sugarcoated-lame]

AAAAH thank you so much 🥹🥹 I too would LOVE a pretend cowboy boyfriend.. or a real one 😭

And I’m so happy to hear you enjoyed that bit, because that was one of my favorite moments when I was writing it haha! Thank you so much for reading!! 🥰💗💕

Pretend To Be My Boyfriend? | Rhett Abbott x Reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors DNI!

Synopsis: When a guy won't leave you alone, you ask the pretty cowboy at the bar to pretend to be your boyfriend.

WC: 2900

Warnings: not much? this is mostly just fluff :) fake dating, mentions of harassment/guys being creepy, mentions of alcohol and drinking, flirting? like one mention of sex, i feel like that gif of rhett should be a warning

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to write it (: kinda feel like it's a bit shit but please enjoy, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ♥

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“Hey, honey!” Rhett hears a sweet voice call out through the dimly lit, noisy bar. He senses a figure approaching to the left of the barstool he’s sat on, hand freezing halfway to his mouth as he goes to take a sip from his bottle of beer.

It takes him a moment to realize that you’re speaking to him, his confused expression meeting your hopeful, smiling one. He checks behind him for somebody else, but nope, there’s no one there — you’re definitely talking to him.

“Uh…hi? Do I- do we… know each other?” Rhett places his beer down on the bar, wincing as he asks the question; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten a woman that he’d met in this very bar and drunkenly hooked up with. And that situation never usually ends well for him.

You’re very pretty ��� beautiful, actually — and Rhett decides right then that he definitely doesn’t know you. There’s no way he’d ever be able to forget a face like that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you step a little closer to him, and though you’re still smiling, within the newfound proximity Rhett can now see a frazzled, almost pleading look in your bright eyes as you go to speak again.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask, your voice lowered to a level that only he can hear.

“Uh…” Rhett’s confusion is written all over his face, from his brows that furrow adorably to his gaping mouth.

Your own expression turns sheepish as you realize how silly the question sounds, and you’re quick to intercept and elaborate for him.

“There’s a guy over there,” you turn away from Rhett slightly and nod your head subtly to your left and catch a glimpse of the drunken stranger who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’s been trying to hit on me for the last thirty minutes. Can’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested.”

Rhett follows your gaze and sees a man sipping a beer and staring at the two of you from the other side of the bar.

“So… I told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

When he meets your eyes again, he can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, but Rhett can sense that little hint of fear in your eyes and the worry in voice. And, though he doesn’t know you, he feels his protective instincts kick in.

You can see the change in his demeanor almost immediately, shoulders squared as he sends the other man across the room an intimidating glare that you don’t think you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of.

But, when Rhett’s gaze returns to you, his blue eyes soften and his lips turn up just a bit. He gestures to the empty stool next to his and you take the seat with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile.

“If I’m gonna be your boyfriend, then I guess you should know my name. I’m Rhett.”

Your own shoulders deflate in relief that this kind stranger — Rhett — has agreed to help you, a genuine smile now forming on your lips as you introduce yourself as well.

You’re not entirely sure what made you choose him, but for some reason you found yourself drawn to the pretty cowboy sitting alone at the bar and drinking a beer. And, you’re glad you did.

He’s even prettier up close — little curls peeking out beneath his Stetson hat, adorable button nose, and his eyes captivating pools of blue, intense in their gaze that’s now focused on you. His voice deep and rich, and oh-so soothing.

“You new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” He’d definitely remember if he had.

You nod your head in confirmation. “Very new, I just moved here two days ago for work.”

“Well, welcome to Wabang. I promise not all us guys here are creeps like that asshole.” Rhett promises, once again glancing toward the man who had been harassing you earlier.

That draws a light chuckle out of you, but before you can respond, Rhett narrows his eyes and goes to speak again.

“Speaking of which, he’s still staring over here. I’m gonna put my arm around you… if you’re okay with that.”

Your head nods in agreement without really thinking much about it. Admittedly, you find yourself a little bit lost in the quiet, gravely tone of Rhett’s voice, that deep southern accent, and you’re fairly certain he could get you to agree to anything if he keeps talking to you like that.

Before you can register what’s happening, you’re enveloped by warmth and a pleasant musk that’s a spicy mix of vanilla and tobacco as Rhett leans in and drapes a protective arm over your shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” Rhett emphasizes the last word sarcastically; if he’s going to pretend to be your boyfriend, he’s going to have fun with it.

You take a second too long to answer, too busy trying to inhale Rhett’s scent again as discreetly as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice — he definitely notices.

When you look back up into his eyes, there’s a playful mirth to them, and a smirk overtaking his lips at how flustered you are by the close proximity and the use of the pet name.

“Y-yeah…yes.” You shake your head as though to clear it. “I’ll have a beer.”

As you inwardly cringe at yourself for stumbling through your answer, Rhett simply smirks and raises his hand to flag down the bartender and order your drink, all the while keeping you close to his side underneath his arm.

Only when the bartender places the bottle down in front of you does Rhett remove his arm from around your shoulders, and you find yourself already missing the warmth of the denim of his jacket on your bare skin.

“So, you moved here for work. What do you do?”

You tell him all about your new job and how excited you are for this fresh start in a new place, and Rhett listens intently, chiming in when necessary, loving how passionate you are about your work and content to just listen to the melodic sound of your voice.

“Alright, enough about me. What do you do, Rhett?” It’s the first time you’ve said his name tonight and Rhett feels his cheeks heat, deciding right then that he loves the way it sounds on your lips and that he needs to hear it more.

“I help out on my family’s ranch,” Rhett tells you. “…But I’m also a bull rider.” A small grin grows on his lips that tells you just how much he loves it.

“A bull rider?!” You’re beaming at him, eyes widened in surprise. “No way, that’s so cool! Way cooler than my job.”

Rhett lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head in an attempt to protest. Bashful and blushing even harder now, he tries to brush it off – unable to take a compliment, but you’re having none of it.

“Come on, it’s very impressive! Maybe I’ll come cheer you on in the stands sometime.”

“Yeah?” The two of you share light-hearted grins and you give Rhett an affirmative nod. Yeah, he would definitely like that.

The two of you sit at the bar and talk for a while longer, Rhett buying you a couple more beers. You discuss anything and everything that comes to mind and share a good few laughs, the alcohol leaving you on just the right side of tipsy, feeling open and content – light.

Rhett only nurses the one beer that he’s been drinking since you approached him earlier in the evening. He finds himself already feeling a bit protective of you, liking the responsibility of keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re having a good time. Besides, he just really enjoys talking to you and doesn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight.

Rhett continues to also keep an eye on the guy who was bothering you earlier – though he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t try to approach you again since you’ve been at Rhett’s side for a while now, his arm once again finding itself wrapped securely around your side.

However, Rhett’s noticed throughout the night that he’s not the only man in the bar he’s caught looking at you – yes, you’re new in town, but he knows they’re also looking – staring really – because of how beautiful you are. And he maybe finds himself feeling a bit jealous.

“Seems you’ve caught the attention of just about every guy in here tonight.” Rhett informs you with a teasing lilt to his voice to make light of the situation, smirking into his beer bottle as he takes the final sip.

“Not that I want it.” You roll your eyes dramatically. A playful smirk then takes over your lips — you’ve got an idea. The corner of Rhett’s lips quirk up a bit too as his brow raises in question.

“Just trust me.” Your face is leaning in closer towards him and before Rhett can process what’s happening, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The fact that you’re tipsy has definitely provided you some liquid courage, that much is for sure when you pull back and shift to whisper into Rhett’s ear.

“Gotta let them know that I’m all yours.” Your tone is playful, sarcastically seductive, the warmth of your breath against the skin of Rhett’s earlobe sending a shiver down his spine and he has to fight to hold back a groan. God, does he wish that statement were true.

You can’t stop the little fit of giggles that escapes you as you pull back, and Rhett can’t help but chuckle along with you. Admiring the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh, the adorable way that your nose wrinkles too. The skin of his cheek is still burning where your plush lips had kissed him.

Now it’s Rhett who has an idea, you can almost see the light bulb flicker behind his crystal blue eyes when they peer into yours again.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asks and your brows furrow adorably, curious as to where he’s going with this. You let him know that you were just going to call an Uber.

“I can drive you home… if you’d like.” Rhett’s nowhere near drunk from the one beer he’s had all evening.

“And there is a way you could show everyone you’re mine.” He proposes, that playful smirk returning to his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Rhett, but you can’t help but grin along with him, still wondering what he could possibly be suggesting.

Rhett goes to remove the cowboy hat from his head, repeating your own words from only a few moments ago. “Just trust me.”

He moves to place the hat atop your head, a silly grin still on his face as he adjusts it over your hair. You meet his look with a puzzled smile of your own, unsure of what he meant, but something within you tells you that you can – trust him, that is.  

Rhett flags down the bartender and closes his tab before lightly knocking his fists on the wooden bar top.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhett chuckles like he knows something you don’t, and you can only roll your eyes in jest as you wait to be let in on the joke.

Rhett watches as you shrug on your jacket, stealing a long glance at you wearing his Stetson – feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest and enjoying the way it looks on your head – before he gently ushers you toward the exit of the bar.

Near the door, he sends a self-assured smirk to the asshole who had been bothering you earlier in the evening, who just watches along from a nearby booth with his buddies, a sour look on his face as you walk out into the night with Rhett’s arm draped over your shoulder.

Only when you’re secured into the passenger side of his truck does Rhett divulge the nature of his plan.

“So, uh — the hat,” Rhett nods towards his hat that you’re wearing and your fingers reach up to touch the worn fabric. “If you wear someone’s cowboy hat, you’re supposed to uh…ride the cowboy…”

He trails off, admittedly a bit nervous now – he doesn’t want to come off as a creep – as he explains the ‘cowboy hat rule’ as he called it, to you. His way of making the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing seem a bit more real to any prying eyes, showing everyone in the bar that you’re ‘his’.

You stare at him in bewilderment for a long moment, mouth agape. Your expression sends Rhett into a boisterous fit of laughter, unable to refrain, and earns him a playful smack on the arm.

You close your eyes and cover your face with your palms. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, come on. It’s kinda funny.” Rhett contends through his laughter and you send him what you hope to be a scornful pout. But there’s no real malice behind it, a smile fighting to break through as you find it hard to be annoyed with him.

“And it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to it.” He promises with a wink that might make you swoon if you weren’t already sitting down.

Before you know it, you’re joining in on the laughs, unable to hold back any longer and relishing in the humor or the situation.

Once you’ve rattled off your address to Rhett, the ride to your home is filled with quiet music pouring from the truck’s radio – though it merely serves as background noise as you and Rhett spend the entire 20-minute drive talking. Sharing little details about yourselves and making plenty more jokes. His Stetson still sitting pretty atop your head.

Despite having spent hours talking with him in the bar, you still find yourself wanting to know more about him, not wanting the conversation – or this night –  to end.

The truck reaches your little house all too soon, and Rhett finds himself not wanting the night to end either. Pretending to be your boyfriend was the highlight of his evening and he wants nothing more than to see you again.

When he stops the truck at the end of the little path leading to your front door, Rhett clears his throat before moving to speak.

“So, I — uh, I was wondering, c-could I… maybe get your phone number?” Rhett asks quietly, a pink flush taking over his pale cheeks as he internally curses himself for sounding so nervous.

You don’t mind it, though — this seemingly tough cowboy growing all flustered and stumbling over his words for you? You couldn’t find it more endearing.  

Rhett holds his breath as your pretty eyes — slightly glassy still from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the evening, look straight into his blue ones, and you grace him with a coy smile.

“Of course. Who else am I going to call when guys are harassing me and I need a fake boyfriend?”

Rhett releases the breath he was holding and bites back a smile, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Great.”

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you gingerly remove Rhett’s hat from your head, smoothing down your hair.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you scoot closer toward him in the bench seat, reaching up to carefully place it back on top of his head  — your eyes gazing into Rhett’s blue ones as they peer back into yours, the two of you sharing bashful smiles.

With the cowboy hat secured on the head of its rightful owner, you move to pull away. However, you pause before you get too far, deciding to lean in and place one last kiss to Rhett’s cheek before climbing out of his truck.

Rhett’s in such a daze – cheeks flushing that bright pink once again as warmth radiates from where your lips had kissed him, and a dopey grin on his lips – that he almost doesn’t notice as you walk around to the driver’s side of his truck, leaning a bit into the open window. Your face close to his, lit up all pretty in the moonlight.

“Thank you for turning my shitty night around, Rhett.” You bite back a grin. “I had a lot of fun.”

Before Rhett can respond – still flustered from the kiss to his cheek and now from hearing you say his name again, you back away from his window, making your way towards the path. Walking backwards, still facing the truck and grinning at him all the while.

“Oh, and you’re a really great fake boyfriend!” You call out.

Breaking off into a giggle that carries in the night’s slight breeze and Rhett can only chuckle back, shaking his head as he watches you with a fond smile.  

With that, you turn around and walk off to your house with a spring in your step. Rhett stays sat there in his truck until he sees you make it through your front door safely, and he’s absolutely beaming.

Rhett's going to call you first thing tomorrow. He hopes that he can turn this ‘fake’ boyfriend situation into something real.

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Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91  @memoriesat30  @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 ♥

also tagging a few people that I think may enjoy/liked my last rhett fic ♥ : @roleycoleyreccenter @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @mothdruid @lewmagoo @foreverrandomwritings @pillow-titties @sobshoney

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[baezen]

for your banner

i'm mcfucken losing it 😂

[delopsia]

Omg, this is so cute 😭💕 Happy Valentine's Day! 🌼

[callsignspark]

elle your tags are always 12/10 💐💐 please take these bouquets for making me giggle

[attapullman]

Okay, ignoring the caption - this video literally changed my life. Like once upon a time I was like "Oh yeah, Lewis Pullman is a cutie." and the moved along.

And then I saw this and I became a feral beast who is consumed by this man and the split second he looks identical to his father.

this is what it feels like finding a sereshaw fic with bottom rooster

[arcane-vagabond]

Okay, sorry about that, y’all. I had to remind myself that I don’t actually care lol