#by9 packs

[delopsia]

what remains of wabang | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 6,900   Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB Reader, the plot is inspired by a bizarre nightmare I had. A fumbled proposal. This could count as a dystopian AU, depending on how you interpret it (it wasn't intended). Unprotected sex (with lots of feelings!), reader comes untouched, cunnilingus. One (1) mention of the reader owning/wearing a babydoll. Royal has passed a 'gift' on to his sons.  Brief Summary: Two months after Rhett mysteriously went missing, he appears from nowhere to ask you to run away with him. You don't expect to see what havoc BY9 has wreaked upon Wabang. Nor do you expect to learn new things about your cowboy.  

This old trashcan couldn't be any louder. 

Plastic wheels grind against the pavement, the echoes of it bouncing off the walls of identical homes. Alerting everyone on this street of the fact that you're once again taking the trash out at eleven o'clock at night. It's strange, being this close to other houses; you've grown so accustomed to your rental home in the outskirts of Wabang that you now struggle to adjust to the customs of neighborhood life. All of you packed into the same microscopic homes, like a bunch of sardines. 

Temporary homes, they'd said, in the emergency evacuation notice. Meant to last no longer than a week, just long enough for them to clean up the nondescript biohazard spilled into Wabang. 

But the trash runs bi-weekly, and this is the third time you've brought the can out to the curb. 

Yet, when you let go of the container, ready to walk back into the shoddily constructed building you're supposed to call home, there's a rumbling that doesn't quite stop. A distant sound that seems to grow louder the longer you stand here. Sounds like a truck, but the street suffers a significant lack of headlights. You squint. Fighting to see what lurks down the dark street, unlit and empty. 

It's a truck. 

Too small to be anything modern, its headlights shut off as it slowly creeps down the street. Intent on not being seen, like the driver is afraid of drawing even the slightest bit of attention to themselves. And so far, they seem to be doing a great job of it. If anyone had noticed, BY9 trucks would be swarming the area by now. 

Your shoes scrape against the concrete driveway as you stumble away from the road, ready to get inside before the truck crawls past your home but unable to look away from it for even a second. 

It stops just short of your mailbox. Engine dying as the door opens. 

A figure steps out. Dark. Still. 

You bolt at the same time it does.

Racing for your half-open front door. Feet pounding against the ground as you all but tear past the crudely placed bushes by your sidewalk. Throat tight. Mouth open but can't make a single noise. Who is this? Who is this? Who is this?

 "Wait!" 

You know that voice.

You know that voice. 

That figure doesn't slow down as he all but hurtles toward you. Shoes skid against the dirt as frenzied feet try to stop. His body slamming into yours. A runaway train that's gone off the rails. The arms that wrap around you are the only reason you don't fall.  

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," words frantically uttered into the crook of your neck. Words spoken by a voice you thought you'd never hear again.

"Rhett?" Asking it feels like a dream. A sick fantasy played upon you by your own imagination. But your arms are wrapping around a firm torso, just as warm and alive as you remember. The labored breath tickling your skin feels too real to be a trick. 

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you try to speak again, struggling to so much as lift it. "Rhett, where have you been?" And even though you're asking it, you're not sure if it's really him. "It's been two..." He smells exactly how you remember, something airy and crisp, maybe a little bit sweet, like the autumn breeze. "You've been missing." 

"I know, I'm so sorry," Rhett's pulling away, and you're already clinging to him. Unwilling to let more than an inch of space between your bodies. Nose to nose. So close that maybe you'll be able to keep him from disappearing again. God, those eyes. You've missed those eyes. "Please just, please, I don't—please, I don't have time to explain." 

He's so worked up and all over the place that you can't follow. Palms trembling against your cheeks. Eyes so wide that you almost see nothing but the whites of them. Where has he been? Why is he so nervous? 

You've never seen him like this. 

"I have an apartment, and I have a job at a ranch, and I want, I want," voice wavering as he pauses to push your foreheads together,  "I want you to come with me."

"Rhett, what are you—"

"I never meant to leave you behind," he's still talking. Speaking so quickly, you can't keep up. Body shuddering against yours.  "I promise I was comin' to get you the night I left, but then those people started followin' me and, and, and, I'll explain it all if you come with me."

You don't... 

You don't understand. People chasing him? A job? An apartment? Why didn't he come back sooner? What people is he talking about? You don't even know if you're hearing him correctly. If this is even real. There's no way this is real.

Headlights pierce through the dark. Attached to the front of a white Chevy Tahoe, bearing a familiar triangular logo on its side. BY9. Belongs to the mining group that put you all here in the first place. 

Rhett's tugging on your arms. Downright drags you down behind the bushes. Crouching. Barely concealed from the view of the officer driving the vehicle as it rolls past. Eerily slow. Looking for something.

Or someone. 

"Please. I can't...I can't leave you here," Rhett whispers, and you don't know if that's his heart pounding like a drum or if it's yours. A loud thump, thump, thump in your ears. So loud you're surprised the patrol officer doesn't hear it.  "You're not safe here." 

You don't know where he's been for the past two months. Don't know what triggered him to leave in the first place. Or why he's come back now, in the dead of the night, without warning or notice. Does this have something to do with the interview BY9 had with you right as you were moved into this temporary residence? All those questions about Rhett...were they ever meant to help you find your missing cowboy? 

So many thoughts fluttering about your head. But as you watch that cruiser stalk past your driveway, and you feel Rhett tremble against you, something clicks. Your confused mind made up in an instant. 

"Alright," and as soon as that vehicle is out of sight, you're rushing toward your front door. 

The hinges squeal as you rush past. Snatching your blanket from the couch, on your way to the tiny excuse of a bedroom you've been given. Rhett's boots thump behind you. Spurs chiming with every step. 

"You're already packed?" He's hardly stumbled into your bedroom before you're shoving one of your two suitcases toward him. The wheels rumbling across the cheap linoleum, catching on the planks that are already beginning to curl up from the ground. 

"Correction, I never unpacked," you're scrambling, shoving your few belongings back into your open bag; a toothbrush, blanket, a stuffed cow Rhett bought you for your first anniversary,  "We were only supposed to be here for a week." 

Never did you expect him to sling that heavy suitcase over his shoulder. Bicep bulging under the weight. Knuckles white as his fingers cling to the handle. "You let 'em move y'here?" Hearing that low drawl doesn't feel real.

Reaching out and squeezing his wrist doesn't feel real, either. 

"We had no choice," you mutter under your breath, almost mindless as you let him take you by the hand, guiding you back to the front door. Through an unfamiliar hallway and past a bathroom you know you've spent time inside but have little recollection of. "They issued an evacuation order and sent us all here."

Evacuation for what you're not quite sure. The paper had claimed it was a biohazard, but if it was so serious, then how did they have the time to build these miniature homes? An answer doesn't come, too distracted by Rhett leading you through the yard, shoving your suitcases into the bed of his truck. 

At the end of the street, a pair of blinding headlights flicker on. Siren wailing to life.

"Shit." And Rhett doesn't need to say anything further. 

You don't understand why you're scrambling for the passenger door. Hands missing the handle on the first try. Barely clawing it open on the second. All but falling into the truck, door slamming behind you. The engine roars to life. A deep rumbling that you can hardly hear over the squealing siren. Red and blue flashing from the roof of a BY9 SUV. 

Rhett's hat flies off the dash as the truck lurches forward. His hands flying across the steering wheel. Rolling up into the neighbor's yard as he turns. Front bumper slamming into the corner of a mailbox. 

A second pair of lights appear on your right. A sleeping car awakening. Another on the left. Then another. And another. The street alight with white, red, and blue. Sirens screaming. A sea of color that chase you down. Hot on Rhett's squealing tires as he veers to the right. Barely clinging to the pavement.

"Rhett, what's going on?" You squeak. Bouncing in the passenger seat. Scrambling for purchase on something. Anything. Your suitcases audibly slam into the side of his truck bed as he swings to the left. Narrowly avoids hitting the front end of a Wabang police cruiser. "Rhett?"

"I don't know," his voice shivers through clenched teeth. Frantic eyes bouncing between the road and the mirrors. Back and forth. Up and down. Never still for more than a second at a time. "All I know is that they ain't gettin' you and me."

Your seat belt tightens as he hits the brakes. Tires smoking as the old GMC careens to the left. Barreling down a one-way street. In the wrong direction. Blowing past the barrier arm that tries to block your path. Wood splintering. Too flimsy to stop Rhett from tearing out of this copy-paste neighborhood. Fleeing back to the safety of familiar Wabang streets. 

Streets that you don't recognize. 

You know there should be a little white farmhouse off to your right. Nestled next to a towering Oak tree that serves as home to a small wooden swing, and the lawn littered with children's toys. But now, all you find is a parking lot. Opening up to a sea of drill rigs. Swinging up and down.

God, they're everywhere.

"They found somethin' on our land," Rhett's saying. As if he can see the questions fluttering through your head. "Whatever it is, they're rippin' the whole town apart to drill for it." 

Wabang isn't your hometown. Not by a long shot. But the sight before you has your heart twisting in your chest. That old, fairytale small town no longer exists. Those old family ranches were bulldozed weeks ago. Historical buildings and small mom-and-pop shops reduced to empty land, fodder for newly built drill rigs. 

All that remains of Wabang are the streets. 

Light appears in the distance. A tiny speck that splits into two. Three. Four. Five. Until all you see is blinding white. An army of vehicles speeding toward you. A flurry of red and blue flickering. A clash of voices echoes over PA systems. Orderings to stop the truck. Pull over. Surrender. We mean you no harm. 

Rhett jerks the wheel to the right. Jumping the ditch and tearing straight into an open field. A small farm once stood here, but not anymore. Nothing but flat land that this old truck tears through like it's nothing. Bouncing you in your seat. Luggage slamming into the sides of his truck bed, leaving a myriad of dents in their wake. 

"I hope you planned for this," yelping as you cling to the seat. Fighting to stay put. 

Rhett's right-hand rises up from the wheel. Making a fist. You can almost swear that you see something move in the distance. 

The truck hits a bump. Wheel jerking out from his grip. Forcing him to scramble with both hands. Forearms flexing as he forces the truck back in the right direction. "I did." 

But you're running out of drivable land. A thick collection of trees drawing closer and closer. Too closely packed for his truck to fit between. He makes a fist again. So tight his hand turns white.

The trees warp. 

Twisting in a circle, like a cloth spun from the center. Wrinkling and blending into a plume of blackened dust, sparkling as it dances past the truck. A bunch of tiny stars that lead to a deep, dark abyss. Towering before you, circular, like a tear in the seams of your reality. 

Rhett drives straight through it. 

Like a door, the hole spits you out into another field. Empty and dark. Devoid of any other vehicle but your own. The only light coming from Rhett's busted headlights and a lone street lamp, not too far away.

As you look over your shoulder, the hole closes. That cloth untwisting, returning the land to its former, peaceful glory. In an instant, those daunting lights are gone. Whisked away by the black smoke that twirls up into the night sky. 

Maybe now is a good time to take a drug test because there is no way that just happened.

But the squeal of Rhett's brakes sound real, the vehicle slowing to a complete stop. Rhett's chest heaving is heaving, sweat rolling down his forehead and past reddened cheeks, as if he's just run a marathon. And that looks pretty real, too. 

"I ain't pinchin' ya," he breathes, the corner of his lip quirking upward as he says it.

And that's exactly what he would say after such an event. 

It takes you a moment to find your voice. "What the hell just happened?" Comes out as nothing but a croak, your throat far too dry to produce anything more. 

Rhett's head shakes back and forth. Like he doesn't have an answer himself, "the folks chasin' us or the whole...hole thing?" 

"Is both an option?" 

That gets a smile out of him, lazily sprawling across his scruffy face. The first one you've seen in months. Hand leaving the steering wheel, reaching out to squeeze your knee. You reach down, curling your hand overtop of his, fingers slotting together. 

"I think it's 'cause of somethin' related to my family," he says, after a moment, his gaze locked on your hands, "After them BY9 folks took the land, they came knockin' at our door. Took Dad...came back for Ma 'n Perry a couple hours later, sayin' somethin' 'bout how we all had a gift."

You suppose you can infer what that gift could be. "They didn't come for you?"

The hand on your knee squeezes a little tighter, making sure you're still here, "Ma told 'em I wasn't home, 'n one of  'em said they'd come back for me later." His tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek. Pushing back and forth, thinking. "I grabbed a bag 'n went lookin' for you...figured I'd ask to hide with you for a bit." 

In the back of your head, you can't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd gotten the chance to hide in your home. Would they have taken you too? Would they have even known Rhett would be hiding from you?

"But then they started trailin' me," his index finger twitches against yours as he continues, "I got frustrated 'cause they wouldn't let me on your street...next thing I know, I'm goin' through a hole."

You catch yourself glancing up at the rearview mirror. Searching for any instance of the hole you just drove through, almost expecting it to still be there. But all you find is an unfamiliar pasture and a lamp post. "Where did it take you?" 

"South fuckin' Dakota." 

Your eyes might pop out of your head. "We're in South Dakota?" 

His sheepish grin is the biggest 'yes' you've ever received in your life.

Rhett's definition of an apartment is very different from your definition of one.

When he'd said it, you pictured a small place, one bedroom, one bath, tucked into a housing complex that served as home to more people than you could ever count. A laundromat in the basement and a slightly too big parking lot with more spaces than there are tenants. 

But this isn't that at all.

No, it's a bite-sized cabin tucked away in the forest. A little worse for wear, part of the railing on the porch could use replacing, and the door doesn't want to shut at first, but it's more than you could have imagined. With a tiny kitchen and an even tinier living space attached, nothing but a thrifted couch, a plaid blanket, and a television, he found on clearance. 

"You got this all together in two months?" You ask, reaching out to brush your fingers against brown plaid curtains, unsurprised to find them here. You've yet to see his bedroom, but you can already imagine his comforter must bear a similar pattern and color. 

"Yeah," Rhett's scratching the back of his neck. "I know it ain't much, but..."

"It's perfect," words delivered a little too quickly, not letting him finish that sentence. 

His eyelashes flutter; surprised. "Yeah?" Smiling as he speaks, big and dopey, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with it. A touch proud of what he's built here. His socked feet thump across the floor, eager to minimize the space between the two of you. Big palms settling on your hips, smoothing up your sides, drawing you in. 

When you daydreamed about him coming home, you'd always imagined that you'd throw yourself into his arms. Cling to him and never, ever let go again. But it's been well over an hour and a half since he raced down your driveway, and you're terrified to lift your arms and wrap them around his waist. 

Because maybe this is just that. A daydream. A trick of the mind that will end when you pull him close to you, disappearing into a misty dreaminess that throws rocks at your glass heart. 

"I'm so sorry I left you," he whispers into your ear with the faintest shiver in his voice.

On its own, one of your arms begins to move. Wrapping around him, weakly squeezing that big, warm body against yours. Feeling his chest rise and fall, warm and full of life. The same old cowboy that you remember from two months ago. 

He doesn't disappear. 

Rather than vanishing from your arms and floating away, he pulls you a little closer, arms a little tighter. Scruffy cheek scratching against your softer one as he buries his face into your neck. His breath tickles your skin, fingertips drawing invisible shapes into your clothed back. 

"Just a one-arm hug?" His voice rumbles down your spine like thunder; can never stop himself from teasing, even in times like these. 

Blindly, you reach up with your other arm, no longer allowing it to dangle limply at your side. Hoping to find purchase between those perfectly strong shoulders.

Your knuckles catch on the edge of something hard.  

It falls, hitting the floor with an explosive, metal clatter. Silver bursts out of the tiny wooden box. Rolling in all directions. Heading into the living area, some even stretching to the kitchen, others race to the bathroom, a few strays wander between your legs, and two let themselves right into the bedroom. 

"Are these...rings?" You chirp, watching one as it spirals, circles growing tighter and tighter until it falls on its side with a soft sound. They certainly look like rings, but there's such an obscene amount of them that you're unsure. 

Rhett's quiet as you step away from him, crouching to pick up one of the little things. Doesn't make a sound when you roll it between your fingers, feeling the way the uneven metal rubs against your skin. This one is far too big for any of your fingers, and so are the next two you scoop up. Another is too tiny, and the one that seems the right size suffers a big crack in the side. 

"I..." he starts, twisting at the hair resting on his nape, "they're...yeah. They're rings." 

But that doesn't make any sense. Why would he have so many? From what you can gather, they're all similar. Made of the same silvery material, visibly handcrafted; some with etchings of letters inside, others bear empty brackets meant to hold a stone. 

Rhett hardly moves as you reach for the one next to his foot. Just as identical as the rest, plain and with rough lettering on the inside of the band.

'Marry me?'

You nearly drop it. Caught off-guard by the sudden text.

"That's not..." Rhett's crouching next to you, teeth worrying his bottom lip, staring down at the engraving like it owes him money. "I...I was tryin' to make you an engagement ring." 

He reaches over, scooping up a handful of rings that have collected against the wall. Moves them in such a way that you can see his attempts at asking you to marry him within the ring itself. Along with all of his deviations from the concept and the failures that came along the way. One has your name on it, the letters overlapping with the edge. Another has 'marry' written as 'mary.'

"Couldn't get it right, so I figured I'd..." One of them falls from his hand, bouncing across the floor and rolling into the bedroom. He doesn't speak again until it falls. "You know...wait 'till I could afford a proper ring." 

You hum, tracing your nail against the rugged markings. Messy yet lovingly crafted. "Did you still want an  answer?" 

That gets him. Head snapping up to look at you, then jerking his attention back to the floor. Unable to take in your expression, fearing what he could find hidden there. "It ain't...it doesn't have to be right now. If you don't want to..."

You twist this little ring down your finger. It's uneven, not perfectly round, but it fits near perfectly, only the slightest bit loose. Made just for you.

His eyelashes flutter. Jaw slackening. 

Your answer never leaves your tongue, but it's the loudest thing you've ever said.

Gradually, the corner of his lip wavers upward, "yeah?" 

"Yeah," the ring feels foreign around your finger; you can't wait for the day that it feels naked without that little bundle of metal. 

It glints in the light when Rhett takes your hand in his, smiling giddily to himself as he runs his finger over the ring. And it probably isn't the one he would have picked for you; there are likely nicer ones in this scattered mess of silver, but it's the only ring you want. 

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, avoiding your eye as he does so. Like the slightest eye contact will cause him to crumble into nothing. The presses another to the inside of your wrist, then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Slowly crawling up your arm until he's close enough for the tip of his nose to bump into yours. 

Kissing him while crouching isn't easy; the gentle press of his lips against yours is enough to have you worrying about losing your balance. But then he's rising to his feet, drawing you up with him, and it's so, so easy to stumble forward and close that gap once more. Hearing him grunt against you, warm arms coiling around you in the same fashion they always have. 

Oh, how could you have forgotten that he tastes like honey? Warm with a hint of butterscotch, can never seem to keep himself out of those darned little candies. Sliding your arms around those broad shoulders, fingers winding into his hair, listening to his breath catch in his throat. 

It's been two months since you've last felt him part your trembling lips with his own. 

Two months too fucking long.  

"Rhett," you don't mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it does, and you can hardly stop yourself from hiding your face behind your hands. A little too needy, a little too fast. 

But Rhett's rumbling your name in return; doesn't seem to notice your embarrassment, only pulls you closer to him. Hands roaming, soothing up and down your sides, as he pushes you backward, doesn't stop until you're right up against the wall. No way to escape from the rough hand that curls around your cheek, bringing you in to meet his burning mouth again and again and again. 

Rings chime against the floor as he steps forward, jean-clad knee sliding between your legs, fits like it belongs there. Muscled thigh pressing against you, grinding up into your heat. 

You don't realize you've made another noise until he grins into your mouth. Proud. A little too eager to repeat the motion, rolling upward in loose circles. Your hand falls from his hair. Nails biting into his shoulder. Panting against his lips. 

"Fuck, I missed you," he's whispering as he breaks away, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, working toward your neck, "so, so much."

Words are hard to come by. Don't know what you want to say; all you know is that this shirt of his needs to come off. Tugging on the thin material, fumbling with tiny buttons that you can't seem to get ahold of. 

Rhett lets go of you. Breath burning against your neck as he yanks the flannel open. Buttons flying, bouncing across the hardwood, quickly joined by his now ruined shirt. 

"Need this yellow off you," grumbling directly into your ear, big hands returning to your sides, lifting the hem of your shirt. Your arms rise, and in one quick motion, he pulls it off. Dropping it to the floor, drawing you up against him, away from the wall.

Rings scatter beneath your feet as the two of you stumble into the bedroom, metal clinking and rolling with every uncertain step. Uncaring of paying attention to where you're going, distracted by wandering hands, breathy kisses, and noses bumping together.

Your back hits the mattress with an unceremonious thump, the springs squealing their dismay. That wild-eyed cowboy is on you in an instant, lithe hips slipping between your parted thighs, bare chest against yours, nipping at the shell of your ear. His forearms brace themselves on either side of your head, bracketing you in. Gives you an eyeful of the wicked veins that snake down them. 

"Fuck, Rhett," sucking in a sharp breath of air. The layers of clothing between your bodies aren't enough to stop you from feeling that bulge grinding against you. 

"'s it too much?" His lips brush against your ear, sends a shudder down your spine. 

Your head shakes, rolling back and forth against the sheets, "not enough." 

"Yeah?" Pressing his lips to the meet of your jaw, then again to your collar, "take it y'missed me, then."

He's skipping over the courtesy of more kisses, absolutely shameless, as he wraps his lips around your nipple. Big hand curling around your neglected breast, thumb working circles into it. 

"Of course, I fucking missed you," it's hard to keep the bite in your tone, with that wet tongue laving over you like that, downright messy. "Idiot." 

Just as quickly as he jumped to your breast, he's leaving it alone; your skin glistening with his saliva as he licks further down. Darkened eyes peer up at you all the while, once ocean blue, now dark as the night, eagerly drinking in your every reaction. Hungry for everything about you. 

He doesn't need to ask you to lift your hips; they rise the moment his fingers curl beneath your waistband. Then he's pulling down those pastel yellow sweatpants, the soft ones that were in the gift BY9 left for you during the beginning of that so-called evacuation. 

"Fuck, I was hopin' you were wearin' these," Rhett breathes, devious fingers skittering up the inside of your thigh, not stopping until they can slip beneath the edge of your underwear. Always so obsessed with these, despite being the simplest thing you own. Something about the dainty little bow at the top just does it for him. 

"You should've warned me you were coming," you're trying to tease, but fuck is it hard to focus when he pulls your underwear to the side, exposing you to those hungry eyes of his. "I could have put on that matching babydoll." 

A rough index finger strokes up between your folds, collecting your wetness. Rhett so mesmerized by the sight that he struggles to speak, "Baby, I don't think we'd even make it back t'the truck."

Historically, every time you've worn that soft lace garment around him, you've never even made it out of the room. 

There are words sitting heavily in your mouth, already formulated and ready to go. But you don't get the chance to say them because Rhett's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your sex. His tongue pokes out of his lips, eagerly licking a fat stripe up your wetness.

"Can y'get the lube off the table, darlin'?" He's speaking right against your clit, lips tickling it.

The bottle is within reach, but it might as well be on the other side of the room. Rhett's lips are wrapping around that sensitive little button, makes it so, so hard to keep yourself from tangling both hands in his hair instead. Thighs fluttering around his head, hand shivering as it wraps around the small container.

It's new; the plastic still wrapped tightly around the cap. And though Rhett's short nail claws at the edge of it, the plastic refuses to tear off. 

"Come on, you damn..." giving up on the correct way of removing it, he raises it to his mouth, biting at the material until it tears. 

His nose wrinkles. 

"Did you hurt your tooth?" Asking despite knowing the answer. 

How dare he look so shy when he's coating two of his fingers with lube. Meekly grinning to himself, the tips of his ears flaming with crimson as he mutters a soft "maybe."

Dumb cowboy hasn't learned from the time he chipped his tooth while opening the last bottle. 

Wet fingertips circle around your entrance, his mouth returning to your core, deviously lapping at you. Fuck, fuck, fuck that's a lot. 

Sensitivity has jumped a couple of notches during his absence, squirming against the bed, unsure if you want more or if you want to run away from it. So distracting that you don't realize his fingers are pushing into you. Slow, letting you loosen for them on your own accord. 

"That's it," he praises, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes, "take my fingers for me, baby."

They're impatient, curling up, massaging against your walls as he gingerly works them in and out to the tune of his lazy tongue. Drool sliding down, wetting his fingers even further. You whimper before you even realize he's found that little spot. The pad of his index finger rubbing against it. Has your hips lifting off the bed. 

On their own, your hand wanders down, tangling in his messy hair. Rhett all but moans as you pull on it, wet tongue audibly working you over. 

"Another," you whisper, can't get your voice any louder, "please." 

That third finger isn't what you wanted. Isn't thick or long enough to give you that full feeling you've been so desperately craving. But it's a necessary evil that you've learned to put up with in exchange for no soreness the morning after. 

Rhett groans, eyes falling shut as he works into a rhythm. Slow and sloppy, unconcerned with the intricacies of perfect movements, his hips grinding down against the bed. Massaging his neglected cock, still straining against his jeans. 

Fuck, it's such a simple sight, but it has your head spinning. Heat burning between your legs, spreading up into your chest, heart jumping. 

"St..." you can hardly speak, "stop." 

Rhett freezes. Tongue halfway out of his mouth and all. 

Your lungs ache for a breath that you can't quite catch, panting, fighting to form words, "close."

"Were you wantin' to cum 'round my cock instead?" He asks, lifting his head the slightest bit. His chin wet, shiny lips swollen. 

You can't find the words you need to answer him, but something in your face must tell him all he needs to hear because he's moving again. Wet fingers slipping out of your pussy, reaching right for his belt buckle. It jingles as he opens it, the button hidden below damn near hanging on by a thread. 

No matter how many times you've seen this exact scene, it never seems to get shorter. Time downright dragging by as Rhett tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. Cock popping up, smacking against his left hip. The tip dripping and flushed red, angry, begging for attention. That should be all the waiting you need, but now he's reaching for your underwear, properly tugging them off, like the gentleman he just has to be. 

You reach for the lube, pouring some into your palm, and admittedly, it's way more than you needed, but you just don't care. Reaching out to wrap your dripping hand around him, feeling him jump. 

"Fuck," Rhett gasps, eyelashes fluttering like tiny butterflies, "didn't see you reachin' for...God, jus' like that." 

It seems you're not the only one whose gotten sensitive during your time apart. Rhett's head tilts back, mouth agape as you loosely stroke him. Simple little ups and downs, with the slightest twist of your wrist. 

Then you're impatiently guiding him to your entrance, already so wet with your own wetness,  lube, and saliva, never mind the extra lubricant you've coated him with. His hips tilt forward, leaving no room for further teasing as he begins to push into you. 

All that wetness, and he's still a stretch. The kind that has you biting your lip and your eyes screwing shut, feeling that fat head gradually open you up.

"Shit," Rhett's swearing, leaning back down, chests bumping together, pressing kisses to your quaking jaw, "forgot how tight this cute 'lil pussy of yours gets." 

If you could speak, you'd remark that you forgot how obnoxiously thick he is. 

But you can't. All you can do is curl your hands around his thick biceps and fight to relax. Feeling the tip of him fully slip inside. Just the tip. Fuck, there's still a whole six inches of him left, and you don't know how he's going to fit. 

"Y'need me to stop?" He murmurs, scruffy chin bumping into yours. You think his voice has dropped a little.

Shaking your head, "Keep...keep going." 

Looking between your parted legs is the biggest mistake you've ever made. Because the moment you make eye contact with the sight of Rhett's thick length slipping inside of your spasming cunt, you can't look away. Absolutely transfixed by the way he works his way into you, balls hanging low and heavy.

"There you go," Rhett's cooing, pressing kisses to your cheek, "takin' my cock so damn well for me, doll."

His pelvis comes flush with yours, and you think you may float right up into the clouds. Lightheaded, panting, can hardly keep your eyes open. Can't even look down again when he cautiously swivels his hips into you. Does nothing more than jostle his cock inside of you, yet it knocks the air from your lungs. 

"Want me to move?" Yeah, his voice has definitely dropped a little. Rough and gravelly as he speaks. 

Weakly, you hum. "Uhuh." 

Oh, you've missed how his cock head drags against you, so thick that he's always massaging against that little spot. Drawing back a little under halfway, pushing back in just as slowly as he did the first time. 

This is what you needed.

Your favorite cowboy on top of you, his face nuzzled against yours while he slowly fucks into you. Long, deep strokes that are so undeniably him, reaching deep into the farthest parts of you. The kind of thing you struggle to recreate with a toy. Isn't quite as thick and never brings the warmth that Rhett does. Toys don't come with a big, strong body and untamed hair that falls down to tickle your cheek. They don't give you kisses or pant against your lips with every thrust.

"Missed you so damn much," Rhett whispers against your lips like it's a secret meant to only be shared between the two of you. "Y'don't know how many times I've come back tryin' t'find you."

On its own accord, your hand reaches up to rest against his jaw. "I was so worried that you'd never come back," his hips twitch upward, cock driving directly into that little spot. It takes a second to unscramble your words. "Or that something happened—"

"No, no, hey," he's reaching for your hand, bringing it up to rest fully against his cheek. Presses a kiss to your wrist. "There ain't nothin' in this world that's gonna take me away from you, ya hear?" 

Your eyes water. 

So do his.

It's so much. So many feelings and emotions and thoughts floating through your foggy mind. And there's more you need to say, but you're pulling him into you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, letting him bury his face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him tight as he gently thrusts into you. 

Slow ins and outs that completely fill you with him. Kissing your sweetest spots, bringing you to flutter around him, spasming in the way he's always loved. The soft squelch of wetness, balls softly thumping against your ass each time he bottoms out. So much of this cowboy. So, so much.

The ring on your finger glints in the dull light. Imperfectly crafted but looks perfect around your finger. You don't want a new ring with a precious gem and a highly valued metal. You want this one. 

"Rhett," you whimper, muffled by his broad shoulder. There's a warmth settling between your thighs. The soft kind that has your skin prickling and thighs quivering.

"I know," Rhett's groaning. Unable to keep himself quiet any longer, "I am too."

He's panting into your collar, thrusts growing uneven. A little shaky. Your legs are wrapping around his hips, squeezing tight, anchoring him to you. You could reach down, pay attention to your forgotten clit, and bring yourself to the edge faster, but all you want is this. Your cowboy in your arms, fucking you like you're made of glass, the most precious thing he's ever seen. 

Your mouth falls open, whimpering into the open air, "Rhett, Rhett, Rhett." Over and over, like a mantra. Like it'll make up for all the time you've spent apart. And he's murmuring your name, whining high in his throat, your voices weaving together into a wistful melody.

One, two, three more drags of his cock against that sweet little spot, and you're gone. Head falling back against the bed, his name still shivering off your tongue as you spasm around him. Heat washing over your body, floating up into the heavens on a plush, cowboy-shaped cloud. 

Distantly, you think you can feel Rhett shudder above you. Breath hot against your neck as he cums with the softest whine. You never, ever thought you'd feel this again. The involuntary jerk of his hips. The kisses he tries to press to your skin when he's too incoherent to move his mouth. The heaviness of his body as he settles against you. 

It's hard to tell how long it takes you to find the strength to open your eyes. Feels like hours before you pry them open, but it's probably closer to a minute or two. The first thing your gaze drifts toward is the bed.

"Of course, you would have a brown plaid comforter."

Rhett sputters against your neck. God, you've missed that laugh. "That's what happens when 'm left by myself."

This room screams his name in every way it possibly can. Cowboy hats scattered in places they don't belong, blankets occupying every surface. There's a basket of dirty laundry in the corner, what you suppose is a bag of chips laying in the middle, and there is absolutely no reason for one of his socks to be on the ceiling fan. 

You love it.

You love this.

And you don't need to say it out loud. Rhett already hears you, and your heart hears him in return. 

"This place has a clawfoot bath," he says, after a moment, "d'you wanna...give it a shot?" 

Why this old cabin has a clawfoot bath, you'll never understand. What other odd things have you to learn about this place? "Would this entail me having to use your three-in-one body wash?" 

He's quiet at that. The biggest goddamn yes you've ever heard. "...I have bubbles?" 

In the morning, the first thing you're going to do is haul his half-feral ass to the store to do some shopping. Get him away from whatever the hell monstrosity lies in that three-in-one bottle and replace the couple of items you've forgotten back in Wabang. Maybe you'll make him explain how the hell he took you to South fucking Dakota in the blink of an eye while you're at it.

But for now, you're happy to nod your head, "bubbles sound nice."

[lostinpacks]

lee sejin packs

like if you save || se salvar, curte aí pra ajudar

credit on twitter to @livinforACE if you use || se usar, me marca no twitter

pull the header to a new tab to save it with quality || puxe a imagem para uma nova aba pra salvar na melhor qualidade

[deobitchxx]

empty space — part one // yunseong.

words : 2,005

genre : angst, slight of fluff

summary : it has been years since both of you decided to end everything, but it wasn’t easy for yunseong to assume that you were just a part of his life. all he wished for was a happy ending with you as the main character in his life.

characters : hwang yunseong, slight mention of by9’s members and the other produce x 101’s trainees

“Move on, she’s just another part of your life that happened to come and never stayed. You are not necessarily to remember her and all the memories you both shared.” Leaving a soft comforting pat on Yunseong’s back, Yuvin then poured another shot of the wine.

Yunseong could only tight-lipped while taking another shot of the wines whenever the elders poured into his glasses. It has been years since both of you ended the relationship, why couldn’t Yunseong just live on and forget about you?

Yunseong just happened to be in a family full of chaebols, and of course being spoiled by his parents or relatives was something common for him. However, it was not in the same case for you.

You led an average life, in which you had to share your room with the other siblings. You didn’t come from a well-being family and the fact that you had to share the affections of your parents with other three siblings sickening you up.

The romance between you both bloomed when Yunseong changed his major to arts. Of course, there were a lot of questions going on why the science stream student suddenly changed his major. He went to sit next to a teenage girl, which happened to be empty at the moment.

“You can’t sit there though,” she stated as her left ear was still plugged with the earpod. Yunseong fluttered his eyelashes, “Why? This seat just happened to be the only empty one in this whole classroom.”

“Because it’s mine.”

Yunseong lifted up his head, eyes automatically made a contact with the beautiful ones. “Now would you move away? Class is starting in any minutes soon and I haven’t finished my homework yet.”

“O-Oh.”

Being obedient was not something usual for Yunseong, but this person, who happened to be you, just technically changed everything about him. Sticking the backpack near him, he stood up from the seat.

Both of you thought your interactions would only ended there, but not when things started to go smooth between you both.

“Who is Zhang Lu?”

“Lay Zhang?”

“Zhang Lu.”

“Cao Lu?”

Another heavy sigh could be heard from you, it was totally grieving you to think that you had to sacrifice your time teaching the basics things of arts to him.

Exams are around the corner and here you were, abandoning your time that supposed to revise back all the notes with this science stream student.

“It’s Zhang Lu. Z-H-A-N-G-L-U.” You then added, “He was a Chinese landscape painter during the Ming Dynasty. He painted landscapes and human figures in a free and uninhibited style.”

“Why.. do we have to study about him?” The male one turned to face you, expression totally explained how complicated he was adjusting himself with the art world.

You lifted an eyebrow and tapped the book with your mechanical pencil, “Do you think that we, art stream students only learn how to draw?”

“Isn’t that’s the purpose?”

With a grimace, following up with a low groan, you tapped the book again. Hoping that you would gain the attention you needed from that young man named Yunseong.

“We also study the history of arts and slight philosophy arts. How dare you to underestimate us, yikes.”

“I didn’t underestimate..”

“Yeah yeah, sure you didn’t. Geez.” You decided to call it a day, so you were packing all of the stuff that belonged to you into your backpack as a hand tightly gripped around your wrist, stealing your attention.

“Do.. you perhaps want to grab a coffee?” Yunseong asked, almost inaudible. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

“I sa-”

“Can’t you speak louder? I’m having trouble listening to you.”

“I SAID WOULD YOU GRAB A COFFEE WITH ME.”

The entire library went extreme quiet as the other residents took turns facing both of you. Some even had the balls to huss both of you. You apologised to them politely before slapping Yunseong on the arm softly, trying not to make any more sounds.

“You’re being too loud!”

Puffing out his lower lip, he sucked in the oxygen and mumbled, “You’re the one who told me to speak louder..”

“Argh fine fine, let’s just go grab your coffee.”

Well, you thought it would end with both of you ordered the choices of your coffee and go back home— But not for this young man. He insisted you to rest and sit at the cafe shop with him.

“I told you I can pay for it.” Yunseong aggressively shook his head as a no, “I don’t let girls pay whenever they go out with me.”

You snorted and poked the straw into the hole of the cup, taking a sip of your cold coffee. “What a gentleman.”

“All thanks to my mom!” The elder one giggled while sipping his own coffee as well. You just glanced over him and let out a slight giggle.

“However, why did you decide to change your major? We only have two years left to study, it would be hard for you to catch up.”

“I just feel like I should choose my own path.”

“You like arts?”

Yunseong shook his head again in disagreement, “I never take an interest in the arts.”

“Then? Did you really underestimate this beautiful world of arts?” You furrowed your eyebrows, can’t seem to understand his real intention of changing his major to art.

“I just didn’t want to live in my parents’ expectations. I wanted to choose my own path, and I decided to take arts.”

“You can take others like programming—”

“I said, I wanted to take my own path.”

Pursing your lips, you looked away while mumbling, “Geez. How cold,” as you were playing with your straw.

“I heard that.”

“Well, that’s great then! I don’t have to repeat twice,” you plastered a cheeky smile on your face before placing the cup back on the table.

You might sounded annoying to others but to him, you were way better than that or anything related with negative attitudes. He didn’t know how and since when, but one thing for sure was, he got his heads all over you.

He wished a happy ending for both of you, marrying each other and staying at both sides until you both have grown old. Witnessing the toddlers of your children running in the backyard, while both of you were sitting at the swinging chair made of rattan on the porch.

“Just move on, it’s your birthday and you should forget her.” Sejin added, as Jinhyuk nodded and supported him. “What Sejin and Yuvin said was true, just accept the reality. We know you’re better than this.”

No, they didn’t know. The phrase ‘move on’ might seem easy for them to speak it out, but it was not something easy for Yunseong to apply in his daily life.

Every morning he wakes up from his bed, he would expect another message from the ex. He would witness the frames that displayed their pictures whenever he goes to his own bathroom.

He will end his every night with scrolling back all the messages both exchanged. Oh, how cute those messages were, including those sweet emoticons both of you shared. It was so easy back then, in the past, to exchange such messages.

However, in these days, it just seemed so hard for him to send a message to you. Even a letter would asked for million of courages from the latter.

“Oh look, I’ve prepared them for you!”

A group of young women approached them as Yunseong lifted his head to face them. They are beautiful, sexy and elegant. But none.

None can replace the empty space in his heart.

“So is this that young handsome man? The birthday boy?” One of them went closer to Yunseong and sat next to him, hands started to play its roles as she caressed his arms slowly.

He just ignored her and took another sip of his wine, earning a displeasure exchanges from the others. Jungmoo nudged Yuvin on the arm and whispered, “I told you it wouldn’t work!”

It was Yuvin’s idea to celebrate Yunseong’s birthday at the club that he shared with his friend, Kookheon. He thought that at least one of the hostesses might make Yunseong forgets his emo side. At least one—

“Would you like to dance?” The young woman, who introduced herself as Charlotte, insisted to make Yunseong better as hands were still on his arms.

The other members realised the sudden change of expression on Yunseong as they thought he was getting uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

“Cha—”

“Sure, why not.” Yunseong turned to his right side, flashing a quick smile to the hostess.

Charlotte sheepishly smiled back to Yunseong and held his wrist, “Then what should we wait for?”

And that was how Yunseong ended up on the dance floor. His body swung to the beats as Charlotte was dancing in-front of him, purposely displayed her back to him as she swung her hips close to his thigh.

After all, Yunseong is a man as well. His hormones would still be the same with other men. Holding Charlotte’s hips, he dragged her closer to his body and whispered to her ears.

“Your hips looks so amazing.”

The corner of her lips raised up, as she turned around to face the latter one and wrapped her arms around Yunseong’s neck. “Oh really? You just saw 10% of my hips.”

“We can see the rest 90% tonight.” Batting his eyes at her, her cheeks were now reddening and it was so obvious that she liked it.

“Sure, why don’t we?” She leaned closer, tip-toed to reach the male’s lips.

Yunseong’s lips formed a quick smirk as his arms were wrapped around her tiny waist, not wanting to let her escaped from his sight. As he leaned down, their lips met each other.

However, it was not like how Yunseong would kiss you. It started off so rough, the hostess was begging for dominance inside his lips, trying to slide her tongue with his.

This Yunseong wasn’t the Yunseong that you dated. As soon as they pulled off to gasp for air while pressing their foreheads together, a sight of yours were in-front of him.

“This is the reason why I hate you.”

His heart skipped a beat, obviously not because of flustered but how the words affected him. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them, hoping to see a clearer vision.

“Baby? Are you alright?”

Another feminie voice could be heard and that voice belonged to Charlotte. “Are you fine? You seemed so off.”

“I— I’m sorry but I must be out of my mind.” Yunseong immediately released all the grip he had on her, causing her to back a little while facing him.

“I— I’ll take my leave first.”

Yunseong’s figure became smaller and smaller until it was officially gone from her sight. She could only smirk with the situation she was stuck in as she muttered under her breath, “He really loves her.”

Well, he really does. Inserting the key into the ignition and twisted them, he didn’t realise how quick he was as his foot aggressively shifting into gear. He didn’t even put on his seatbelts. With his state of almost drunk, he might get into a car accident.

Or the least was getting caught by the police on duty. Despite all of that, he still managed to arrive at the destination without any worries.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you there? Open the door!”

Slamming the door while twisting the doorknob clockwise and anticlockwise, at least he was hoping to get your attention from inside.

His hard efforts never betrayed him as the door knob was twisted clockwise from the inside, as his blurry vision due to the amount of alcohol he had managed to capture your figure.

“Yunseong-ssi..”

“I miss-”

“Who’s out there?”

A male suddenly appeared out of nowhere from the back, standing close to you before taking a quick glance over the ‘visitor’ they had.

Just— a visitor.

[thefictionfaery]

Good morning 💛 Tell me your weekend plans! I have a packed weekend with content creation today, a trip to Oslo tomorrow where I'm staying overnight before wining and dining with my family on Sunday. It's actually nearing midday here and I just woke up (!!!). Guess my body needed to recharge after an extremely hectic week at work. Stay tuned in my stories tomorrow, by the way, I'll be filming the Parade for you all 💛🌈 https://www.instagram.com/p/By9-gHzi0gf/?igshid=1gkv9owm2n7m9

[noworriesfitnessandnutrition]

Chocolate Peanut, Vanilla Almond, Citrus Lemon… Which Herbalife Protein Bar is your favourite?🤤🍫 Each bar is packed with 10g of high quality dairy protein with a balanced combination of carbohydrate! #poweredbyherbalife #21daychallenge #realfoodtoo #protein #takenoshit (at Brighton) https://www.instagram.com/p/By9-_goAiHU/?igshid=stqpyhp7nyec