#rhett in plaid

[em1i2a3]

Driver

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Fem!Reader!

Summary: Rhett has been having fantasies about you in only his cowboy hat.

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut smut smut, and fluff, Rhett and reader are in an established relationship

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up cowboys and cowgirls, yeehaaw), Oral Sex (fem receiving!), Teasing, Dirty Talk (with that ol’ southern twang), Praise Kink, Grinding.

Authors Note: RAF (RHETT ABBOTT FRIDAYS!!!) Yall I frickin love Rhett Fucking Abbott, writing for this man is so fun! I enjoy it so much. Love me a doe eyed cowboy 😭 hope yall enjoy! And thank you for the request @totaldystopiannerd It was so frickin fun to write! Oh my lord! (That gif definitely has the hat in question lol)

Word Count: 6,360

Side Note: thank you to @receedingdawn for the fucking banging banner

It was a lazy Friday night at your place.

Rhett didn’t have any rides tonight, thankfully–no rodeo, no arena lights, no crowds, no eight-second countdowns buzzing in his ears. It was just you and the quietness of your trailer. This was the kind of night he never used to have until you showed up in his life and brought him into the peacefulness of yours.

He was stretched out on your bed in an old t-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms he kept in the bottom drawer of your dresser–his drawer now. It had happened quietly, somewhere between all the overnights and the morning coffees and the laundry folded with a little too much care. Now, without thinking, he reached for that drawer like it was always his. Like he belonged here, which was the most precious thing you could ask for.

His hair was still damp from the shower you’d made him take when he showed up smelling like sunbaked pasture and motor oil, a smear of dirt on his cheek and a boyish grin on his lips. You could still smell the cedar soap he liked–the one you bought special just for him–lingering warm on his skin. It wrapped around him like a bubble, and radiated off him like a diffuser.

You were across the room, barefoot in your sleep shorts, standing by your record shelf with a glass of red wine balanced in one hand. A loose tank hung from your shoulders, low in the back, swinging gently with every step as you flipped through vinyl sleeves. And every so often–on purpose–you let your hips sway a little more than intended. Just to hear Rhett breathe funny, because you knew he was watching you, it was easy to feel those beautiful blue eyes burning into your backside.

“Somethin’ on your mind, cowboy?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder with a sly grin teasing the corners of your mouth. You didn’t have to see him to feel the way his breath hitched. That subtle ripple of tension that crawled up his chest like he was trying to swallow it down.

Rhett didn’t answer back right away, he just let his head fall back against the wooden headboard with a quiet thud, lips parting, jaw slack. The bedside lamp cast golden shadows over the side of his face–over the curve of his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the faint creases near the corners of his eyes. His light brown hair curled damply over his forehead, still messy from the towel-dry you’d done yourself when he leaned into you after his shower to nuzzle into your neck. And his five o’clock shadow had deepened into something darker since dinner–smudging along his jaw like something you wanted to run your tongue across.

He looked too good in this light.

Too warm, too comfortable, too yours.

And yet there was something unreadable in his face–just enough restraint to tell you he was sitting on something. So you turned fully toward him, wine glass loose between your fingers, and arched a brow.

“Well?” Rhett’s gaze lingered on your bare thighs before he finally spoke.

“I ever tell you ‘bout a dream I had…Week or two ago?” He asked, voice gravel-soft. You took a slow sip of your wine, letting the sweetness linger on your tongue. One droplet slid down the curve of your up, and you licked it away lazily, making sure Rhett’s eyes were on your mouth when you did.

”Mmm…” You swallowed, head tilting playfully, “You’ve told me several, hun. You tell me about every single one, so you’re going to have to be more specific.” He looked flustered now. That rare, almost sweet kind of flustered that only came out when he was too far in his own head–when the words he was holding back were heavier than he wanted to admit.

You weren’t wrong to ask for more detail.

Over the course of your entire relationship–nearly a year to the day–Rhett had made it a habit of telling you his dreams. Always in the mornings. Half-awake, head buried in your chest, voice still raspy from sleep. Sometimes they were abstract and bizarre–running through water, being chased by something without a face. Sometimes they were so vividly sexual they left a flush on his chest all morning.

And he always told you.

Which meant this one? This one had been kept.

Either on purpose…Or because he hadn’t known what to do with it.

You watched him now as his hands raked back through his still-damp hair, messing it up even worse than before. He was blushing a little, too–high along his cheekbones, just under the eyes. Like he was embarrassed for the first time in months.

”Might be seen as stupid…” He muttered, looking off toward the window like maybe the night air could somehow bail him out of this conversation. Your brow arched, slow and sharp.

”Rhett Abbott calling one of his dreams stupid? That was not on my bingo card for tonight.” That pulled a soft laugh out of him–real and low and a little sheepish. The kind of laugh he gave you when he was flustered and trying to hide it behind charm.

God, he was so bad at hiding anything from you.

You set your wine glass down gently on the nightstand. The lamp cast your shadow long across the bed sheets as you walked toward him, slow and teasingly. He didn’t even try to look away.

Your eyes locked as you climbed onto the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly under your weight as you moved to straddle him, knees framing his hips, and the second you settled in his lap, his hands came to rest on your waist like muscle memory. Like he didn’t even think–he just reached for you.

His grip was gentle but possessive. Like you were the thing that steadied him when his mind got too loud. You brushed your fingertips across his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat under your palm, and leaned in close.

His eyes met yours. That clear blue–brighter up close. Long lashes. A tiny freckle just under the corner of his left one. His pupils were already wide, already blown a little from watching you all night. But there was something soft in them too. Something unguarded. A quiet vulnerability that had taken you nearly the entire year to fully earn. You tilted your head.

”C’mon now…Enlighten me with this ‘stupid’ dream.” Rhett let out a breath like he’d been holding it the whole damn time. His thumbs stroked slowly along your hips, eyes darting from your mouth to your collarbone and back again, like the memory alone had his body running warm.

“Wasn’t much…” He started, “Not like the usual ones…” You quirked a brow at him.

”The usual ones usually involve you in a barn and me in a sundress with no underwear, so I’d say the bar is high.” That pulled another laugh from him, and it made his whole chest shake beneath your hands. His head tilted forward, resting briefly against your shoulder as he exhaled.

You kissed his temple gently.

When he looked back up at you, his voice dropped–gravel-thick and shy in the way that always hit you deep.

“You were wearin’ my hat.” Your lips parted, but you didn’t interrupt or say anything. His eyes dropped to your mouth, and lingered there.

”You had nothin’ else on.” He rasped, “Just that old brown hat hangin’ by your front door. And you were on top of me…Ridin’ me so slow…” His hands tightened on your hips, voice faltering as he looked at you, like he was picturing it right then and there.

”Like this,” He murmured.

And then–his hands moved.

He pulled your hips forward against his with a slow, deliberate roll, dragging you across the hard line of his erection through the flannel pyjama pants that fit him just right. The friction was deep and unhurried–more suggestion than thrust–but the way he did it…The way his thumbs pressed into your skin, his pupils dilating even further, like they were going to break through the small rim of blue, as he felt the shape of your body align with his–made your breath catch.

A low hum spilled from your throat, and you let your weight sink into his lap, grinding back softly. Rhett’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into you a little harder.

“I dreamt it and woke up so turned on I damn near hurt myself,” He whispered, ducking his head to your neck. His lips pressed there–warm, soft, wanting, and craving–then his teeth scraped the skin just below your ear.

“And ever since then…” He muttered, voice breaking as his hips dragged you against him again, “It’s been stuck in my head. Just can’t seem to get it out…” His mouth traced your jawline slowly, nipping you once–just enough to make your breath hitch. His erection was now straining against the fabric of his pyjama pants, begging for attention and release.

The pressure made you shiver.

One of your hands came up to his cheek. His stubble scratched faintly against your palm, rough and familiar, and you tilted his head gently until your eyes met again.

You kissed him.

And not quick–not teasing.

Slow.

You kissed him like the whole room had melted away. Like it was just the two of you and the flickering shadows and the low hum of the record player turning behind you. His lips parted instantly, mouth soft and eager beneath yours. His hands stayed tight on your hips, but he didn’t move, didn’t grind you against him–he let you kiss him. Let you taste him, guide him, own him for a moment.

It was heady, how easily he gave himself to you.

When you finally pulled back, lips brushing his as you breathed out, your voice was soft but sharp with intent.

“You wanna see me in your hat,” You whispered, “Riding you like you deserve?”

Rhett looked dazed. Eyes blown wide. Cheeks flushed. His erection twitching beneath you.

“‘Course I do,” He breathed. “Baby… I want it so bad it hurts.”

You leaned in again, kissed him once more–just a soft, lingering press of your mouth to his–and then drew back with a grin.

“Then go get it, cowboy.” His eyes widened, almost comically so.

“Really?” He asked, voice thick, stunned, hopeful. You nodded once, slow and deliberate, your thighs still bracketing his, your fingers dragging lightly along the sides of his neck.

“Go on,” You said, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Earn it.” You shifted off of him gently, settling beside him on the bed with one leg tucked beneath you, and Rhett was up like a man on fire–rising too fast, adjusting himself with a sharp inhale as his erection strained visibly against the front of his pyjama pants.

He stumbled a bit with his words, already halfway out the door. “Don’t–don’t you go disappearin’ on me now,” He called back over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in two seconds.” You giggled, unable to help yourself, hearing the way he was half-running barefoot through the narrow hall of the trailer. The floor creaked under his weight, then came the familiar soft clatter of the coat rack by the door as he snatched it down.

His hat…The one he never let anyone touch.

You finished the last of your wine slowly as you waited, letting the heat in your body spread lazily across your chest. A light flush had crept up your neck. Your legs still tingled from how tightly he’d held you just a moment ago.

When Rhett returned, you looked up–and your breath caught just a little.

There it was in his hand: his rodeo hat.

That dusty brown Stetson you’d seen him wear to every meet, every arena, every time he’d stepped into a chute with fire in his veins. Wide-brimmed, sun-bleached around the edges, a little worn on the crown from where he’d fidgeted with it before each ride. You had seen him toss it off before a fight, and cling to it when he prayed. You’d seen how the light hit his jaw just right beneath its brim–and every time, you thought: damn, he was made for it.

But the way he was holding it now?

Like it was an offering. Like it meant something more than a uniform.

Rhett placed the hat at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on you the whole time, breath a little ragged.

And then–he reached for your ankle.

“Before we get to fulfillin’ that dream of mine…” He murmured, his voice dipping low, soft but rough with intent, “I want to get my daily dose of you in my system.”

You swallowed audibly.

Because you knew what he meant by that.

Rhett loved going down on you.

Loved the way you tasted, how you fell apart for him. Loved when your thighs trembled around his shoulders and your voice cracked on his name. Sometimes he’d spend entire evenings between your legs without ever asking for a damn thing in return–mumbling against your skin that it was his favorite way to end the day.

And you felt that now, in the way his fingers gently curled around your ankle.

“Rhett–” You started, but the words caught in your throat when he pulled.

It wasn’t harsh. Just a firm, coaxing tug as he guided you down the mattress, one hand sliding up your calf, slow and careful.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it all day,” he murmured. “Thinkin’ about comin’over to you, layin’ you out like this. Gettin’ you all wet and shakin’ before I ever even touch myself.” His voice, with that lazy drawl and that mix of devotion and filth made your stomach twist into knots. His mouth found the inside of your knee first, pressing a kiss there–then higher, then higher–until you could feel his breath against the hem of your shorts. You barely had time to breathe before he hooked his thumbs into the waistband.

“Let me…” He whispered, “Let me taste my girl before she puts on my hat and ruins me…” You looked down at him.

And he looked at you like you were his last prayer and first sin rolled into one.

That hunger in his eyes–the ache behind his pupils–it was nearly feral, but somehow still soft. Steady. Like he knew what he was about to do to you and was savoring it in slow motion.

You didn’t speak.

You just nodded–small, slow, sure.

Your hand came down to gently brush his hair back, fingers sliding through damp strands to keep them out of his face. His breath hitched at your touch, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment, like that simple gesture wrecked him more than anything else could.

Then–with that same quiet gentleness–he slid your sleep shorts down your hips. His hands were slow, careful, almost ceremonial, hooking into the waistband with his thumbs and dragging them down over your thighs, your knees, your calves. When they hit the floor, he didn’t look away from your center for a second. His palms smoothed up the outsides of your thighs as he pulled you down the mattress, coaxing you toward the edge with practiced ease. You let him, with your shallow breaths and your heart thudding against your ribs.

And then–he dropped to his knees.

Right there on the floor, between your legs, with his bare chest rising and falling under the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and his jaw slack like he was already drunk on the sight of you. He slid his arms under your thighs and over them again–cradling, anchoring–until the backs of your knees rested over his broad shoulders. His hands gripped the outer curves of your thighs, holding you open, thumbs stroking small circles into your skin like he couldn’t stop touching you even if he tried.

And when his eyes met yours–

God. That look alone made you ache.

Rhett always looked up at you when he did this.

Never shy and certainly never avoiding.

Like he wanted you to see what he was doing to you. Like he needed you to know how much he loved it.

“You’re already shakin’,” He murmured, voice low and rough with heat. “You that worked up for me, sweetheart?” His breath hit your core, and your hips gave a soft jolt in response.

Rhett grinned.

“Thought so.”

Then his mouth was on you.

And not just on you–devouring you and everything you had.

His lips parted around your folds, tongue sliding out slow and wide, dragging upward in one long, unhurried lick that made your spine arch and your toes curl. The heat of his mouth, the scratch of that stubble brushing your thighs–it all rushed through you like lightning.

He groaned against you–like the taste of you filled his mouth too good, too thick–and the vibration of that sound pulsed right through your core.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your head tipping back, one hand fisting the sheets beside you, the other reaching for him–searching for his hair, his shoulder, anything to ground yourself.

He kept going. Lapping and kissing and sucking gently at your clit, alternating pressure, drawing tiny sounds out of you one after the other like he was memorizing every response.

And still–he kept looking up.

Every few seconds, his gaze would flick up your body, pupils dark and blown, and meet yours with this desperate, tender intensity that had your stomach fluttering uncontrollably.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever tasted,” He rasped, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips already slick with you. “Always so warm… always so wet for me…”

Your breath hitched. Your thighs squeezed slightly around his head, and he groaned at that too–loved when you did that–before ducking his mouth right back down and closing it over your clit.

He sucked.

Not hard–but deep. Pulling it into his mouth and curling his tongue around it until your whole body trembled. Then he licked again–quick, focused strokes right where you needed them most–and you could already feel that pressure building fast and thick in your lower belly.

“Rhett–” you gasped, barely able to speak. “Rhett holy shit–”

He gripped your thighs tighter, holding you still as he sucked again, then slowed–drawing a long, slick stroke down your slit before groaning again, low and needy.

“I could stay down here forever,” He mumbled against you, and that sound–the low timbre of his voice reverberating through your center–made your legs tremble even harder. “This–this is the best damn thing I’ve ever had.”

He flicked his tongue just beneath your clit again, then flattened it, slow and firm, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Look at you,” He whispered, glancing up through his lashes. “So fuckin’ pretty when you come apart for me…”

And you did—nearly right then.

Your back arched as the tension snapped. A sharp, desperate cry tore from your throat as your orgasm rolled through you in wave after wave. Rhett didn’t stop. He never stopped. He kept his mouth on you, licking and sucking and moaning like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Your fingers found his hair and tugged hard as you came, and he groaned like it drove him wild, like your pleasure was the only thing tethering him to earth.

When you finally started to come down–shaking, gasping, your chest rising and falling hard–he pressed one last, soft kiss to your center before pulling back slightly, lips slick, chin wet, eyes wrecked.

“You good, darlin’?” he asked, his voice still hoarse, his hands still warm and steady on your thighs.

You blinked down at him, dazed.

“Barely,” you whispered, your body still twitching from aftershocks.

He smirked, running a hand slowly up the inside of your thigh.

“You still got enough in you to make that dream come true?” He asked, thumb brushing gentle circles into your thigh, lips slick and pink from everything he’d just done to you.

You let out a breathless laugh, voice still trembling. Your gaze flicked toward the foot of the bed–where his hat sat in all its quiet glory–and then back to him.

“I always have enough in me to please my cowboy.”

That made his smile flicker wider, that dimple creasing his cheek just before he surged up from the floor, bracing one palm on the mattress and leaning in to kiss you–messy this time. No hesitation. Just hunger and heat and a mouth slick with your arousal pressing against yours like he couldn’t get close enough. It was wet and open-mouthed and a little uncoordinated, noses bumping, teeth catching on swollen lips, and when you both pulled back to catch your breath, there was a thin trail of spit still clinging between your tongues before it broke and smeared against the corner of his mouth.

You swiped your thumb over it.

He licked it from your skin without shame.

Then his fingers found the hem of your tank top and lifted.

You raised your arms without a word, letting him pull it up and off and toss it aside. His eyes swept down over your now fully bare chest like he was trying to memorize every freckle and curve, every little mark he already knew by heart.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, a little dazed. “Don’t know what I ever did to deserve this.”

You kissed the edge of his jaw, warm and reverent. “Shut up and take your shirt off.”

He did.

The thin cotton clung a little to his stomach from the heat of his skin, but he peeled it over his head and dropped it behind him, revealing the warm flush across his chest, and the super light trail of hair down his navel that disappeared beneath his waistband.

You leaned in and kissed the base of his throat, then lower–tracing the center of his chest, lips dragging over the rise and fall of each breath.

“God, I want you,” You whispered.

He swallowed hard. “I’m yours.”

And then he was shoving his pajama bottoms down–quickly, too worked up now to be careful. His cock sprung free, flushed red and hard, the tip already glistening.

Rhett had barely finished kicking his flannel bottoms to the floor when he climbed back into bed, propping himself against the pillows, chest heaving with anticipation. His hands twitched slightly at his sides, like he didn’t know whether to grab you or just sit back and let you ruin him.

You stayed on your knees at first, watching him settle. The lamplight painted him in golden hues–his chest flushed and rising with ragged breaths, his thighs taut, cock heavy and twitching where it rested against his stomach. His eyes never left you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

Then, with that quiet confidence you knew he loved, you shifted up onto his thighs and slowly climbed into his lap.

You made sure your knees bracketed his hips perfectly. Making sure the skin of your inner thighs brushed against his, and then, still holding his gaze, you reached for the hat.

Your fingers slid under the brim, lifting it from where it lay beside you. The moment the crown settled in your hands, Rhett’s breath caught–audibly. His eyes went wide again, not just with heat, but with something deeper. Worship. Wonder. Like watching you hold it turned a fantasy into something sacred.

Then slowly you brought it to your head, and you slipped it on.

The wide-brimmed Stetson sat low over your brow, casting your eyes in shadow and making your mouth the brightest thing on your face. Your lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk, and Rhett visibly shuddered.

“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, voice barely there. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”You smiled wider. He reached up like he couldn’t help himself, and with the gentlest touch—like it was second nature—he flicked the brim of the hat once with his knuckle.

“Looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he murmured, a soft laugh catching in his throat. You giggled back, the brim tipping forward slightly with the motion, and that light, giddy sound made something in Rhett’s chest physically stutter.

Then you leaned forward, just enough for your bare chest to press against his, the heat between your bodies rising, coiling, fusing into one steady burn.

Your hand slid between your bodies.

Rhett inhaled sharply as your fingers wrapped around him–hot, thick, hard, already slick at the tip. You stroked once. Twice. Slow, deliberate movements that had him tipping his head back against the pillows with a guttural groan. His hands flew to your hips like instinct, gripping them firmly, grounding himself in the feel of your skin.

You teased him, letting your slick gather at his head as you guided him through your folds, rubbing the crown against your entrance, but not quite letting him in.

“Jesus,” He hissed, his hips twitching up slightly, fighting the urge to thrust. “Baby… please…”

You didn’t give in right away.

Instead, you leaned in, letting your chest brush his again, your breath ghosting over his jaw as you murmured–

“You dreamed about this, didn’t you?”

His hands gripped tighter.

“Yeah,” He rasped. “Every goddamn night since.”

You held his gaze as you tilted your hips–slow, careful–until his tip nudged your entrance. You paused there, savoring the moment. Savoring the heat, the stretch, the way his lips parted as if to beg, but he held back.

Then, with a steady exhale, you started to sink down.

He was big. You both knew it. Every time you took him it was a stretch–deep and toe-curling, your body adjusting to every thick inch of him.

But this time? It felt even more intense.

Maybe it was the hat. Maybe it was the fuel of the dream behind everything. Maybe it was the way Rhett looked up at you like you were some kind of goddess kneeling above him, his mouth open, his brows drawn, like the sight of you riding him like this might actually break him.

You sank down inch by inch, slow and steady, your jaw dropping open as the burn turned to fullness, and then to pleasure. Rhett groaned like a man possessed, his fingers flexing hard on your hips, his knuckles white.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and shaking. “You feel so good–so fuckin’ good–”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were too focused on the way he filled you, stretched you, your hands bracing against his chest as you slid down until he was seated completely inside you. Your walls fluttered around him involuntarily, and he let out a choked sound, his hips jerking up once with a desperate need to move. You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze.

You started slow. Just the barest roll of your hips, your thighs trembling slightly as you adjusted to the weight of him inside you. Every inch of him pressed deep, dragging against your walls in that way that made your breath hitch and your belly clench. Your palms flattened over his chest, steadying yourself against the tremble that spread through your limbs.

Rhett’s hands stayed tight on your hips, not forcing, not guiding–just holding.

His eyes locked to where you were joined, and he let out a choked, reverent sound. One of his hands slid up, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your ribs, until his thumb brushed reverently beneath the underside of your breast. His other hand reached for the brim of the hat.

He tilted it back slightly on your head so he could see your face better.

“Look at you…” He whispered, voice low and ruined. “My girl…ridin’ me like a goddamn dream.”

You rocked your hips again–slow, dragging friction that had you both gasping. Your folds were slick, soaked, stretched wide around him, and the wet sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, lewd and obscene. His cock pulsed inside you, thick and throbbing, and your walls squeezed around him reflexively.

The brim of the hat shaded your eyes, and Rhett looked absolutely wrecked by it.

You leaned forward, your hair falling in soft strands around your face, and you kissed him again–sloppy, wet, desperate. Your tongue licked into his mouth as your hips picked up a slow, grinding rhythm, your clit dragging over the soft patch of hair above his base with each rock of your hips.

He moaned into your mouth, teeth catching your bottom lip before pulling back slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse–like it had been scraped raw from how badly he needed you.

“You’re killin’ me,” he groaned. “Feelin’ you like this–watchin’ you on top of me, wearin’ my hat–fuck, baby, it’s too much.”

You rolled your hips again and leaned back slightly so he could see the way your body moved above him, the way he disappeared inside you, the way your stomach fluttered with every rise and fall. His hands slid to your thighs, then your ass, gripping tight, holding you open, watching every slick, filthy grind.

“You want me to stop?” You teased, breathless.

His head shot back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a guttural, almost-pained sound.

“Don’t you dare,” he choked. “I swear to God, I’ll lose my mind.”

You smiled, slow and wicked, and began to ride him in earnest.

Not fast. Not yet.

Just deep.

Grinding circles, pulling nearly all the way off his cock before sinking back down with a slick, breathy moan. Your hands slid down his chest, dragging over his stomach, and Rhett watched with glassy eyes as your body moved in perfect rhythm over his.

Every stroke was a worship. Every roll of your hips drew a cry from him–half groan, half prayer.

“Look at you,” He panted, hands sliding up your waist, thumbs stroking your ribs. “Takin’ me so good…So goddamn deep…”

He sat up, slowly, arms wrapping around you as he buried his face against your chest, mouth hot and open over the swell of your breast. He pressed kisses there–wet, messy, dragging his lips across your skin like he couldn’t get enough. His stubble scraped your sensitive flesh, and you gasped, your hands finding his hair, holding him close.

“You’re all I think about,” He whispered, voice trembling. “You in this hat…ridin’ me like you were made for it…You feel so good, baby–so warm, so wet–I could die right here…”

You rocked harder, your breath catching with every grind, every drag of his cock against that aching spot inside you. His tongue flicked your nipple, then sucked it into his mouth, and your head tipped back as you moaned.

“Rhett–fuck–Rhett, you’re gonna make me–”

“Come on, darlin’,” He rasped against your breast. “Come for me. Wanna feel you all over me. Want you to make a mess. Let me feel you clench around me while you wear my fuckin’ hat.”

You whimpered–high, needy–and rolled your hips faster now, chasing it. Your slick dripped down between your thighs, coating him, sticking to his skin in hot, wet strands. The bed creaked under you, and Rhett’s hands clutched your ass, helping you ride, pushing up into you as you rocked down onto him again and again.

The hat stayed perfectly perched on your head.

And Rhett looked up at you like he’d gone and seen heaven.

“Come on,” He begged, “Show me how good it feels. Come on, baby–I need it–fuck, I need it–”

You came with a cry.

Your hips jerked, thighs trembling as your orgasm tore through you, slick flooding around him. You clamped down on his cock, pulsing hard, your moans broken and raw. Rhett groaned and held you there, grinding his hips up once, twice—and then he followed.

“Fuck–fuck–oh Jesus–” His head tipped back, mouth open, eyes glassy, and he came inside you in thick, hot spurts that you could feel dripping down between your thighs.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, sweating, your skin sticking where it touched.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

And then he reached up, breathless, and tipped the hat off your head just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, before he removed it completely and put it on the nightstand.

“You just ruined me for every other fantasy,” He whispered. Rhett’s breath was still coming in soft, uneven waves beneath you, his chest rising and falling in sync with yours.

The afterglow wrapped around you both like a weighted blanket, warm and heavy, laced with sweat and the slow pulse of satisfaction. His arms were still locked around your waist, one hand splayed across your back like he didn’t want to let you go, not even to breathe.

He tilted his head just enough to look at you, still dazed, still flushed–and smiled. That slow, crooked, post-orgasm grin that only came out when he was taken care of, and truly spent.

Then he let out a lazy exhale and murmured, “Now whenever I wear that hat, I’m gonna be so goddamn distracted thinkin’ about this moment right here.”

You bit back your smile, leaning in close, your nose brushing his. “Wasn’t that the whole point?” you whispered, and kissed him.

It was soft at first–just a brush of lips, a sigh passed between mouths–but then his hand curled around the back of your neck, and he deepened it, just enough to let the warmth spread again. A hint of tongue. A little groan. He kissed you like a man still savoring dessert.

When you finally broke apart, Rhett gave a breathless, quiet laugh. His eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that made your chest flutter–genuine, drowsy, gorgeous.

“Well…” He murmured, eyes half-lidded and glowing gold in the lamplight, “In theory, I didn’t really think past the idea of you ridin’ me with my hat on.” He gave your bare thigh a soft squeeze, his thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin. “Or the long-lastin’ effects it’d have on me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, your head dropping briefly to his shoulder as your body relaxed against him. You felt him chuckle beneath you, his whole body shaking gently. The sound of it, warm and boyish and sleepy, was your favorite thing in the world.

“You good?” You asked softly, your fingers brushing through his hair again.

“Darlin’, I’m ruined,” he sighed dramatically, but there was nothing but affection in the way he looked at you–like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You let the silence stretch a beat, then whispered, “We should probably wash off before we pass out like this.”

“Yeah,” He said, groaning a little as he shifted beneath you. “Before I end up glued to you for life.”

You kissed him once more, then slowly rolled off, muscles still trembling as you carefully stood on wobbly legs. Rhett watched every movement, his eyes roaming with unabashed hunger and satisfaction, like he was committing the sight to memory.

As you padded toward the bathroom, trying not to trip over your own feet, you felt the air on your slick thighs and winced at the mess between them.

Rhett caught that little shuffle in your step and gave your ass a light, playful smack.

You gasped in mock outrage, laughing as you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You teased, swatting at the air.

He just grinned up at you from the bed, completely unrepentant.

Then, without missing a beat, you turned and picked up his hat from the nightstand. You gave it a little twirl between your fingers and then tossed it gently toward him. He caught it one-handed, eyes still glued to you, slipping it on his head as a joke, messing with the brim a bit.

“Maybe next time,” You said, voice sweet and slow, “I wanna see you wear this in the bedroom, cowboy. We can make some more memories that’ll ruin you.”

Rhett blinked.

Then his grin went from lazy to wicked.

“Yes, ma’am,” He said, tipping the hat toward you with that glint in his eyes.

You raised a brow at him, lingering in the bathroom doorway with one hand on the frame, your silhouette soft in the dim light. Steam had just begun to curl from the faucet, misting up the mirror. You leaned your weight on one hip, letting your fingers brush your thigh, voice light and teasing.

“You just gonna sit there lookin’ smug,” You asked, “Or are you actually gonna join me?”

Rhett blinked once, then twice–like your words hadn’t fully registered at first–and then his expression shifted into something downright wolfish.

“Hell yes, I’m joinin’ you,” He said, practically throwing the hat onto the nearest pillow as he stood, bare and flushed and beautifully wrecked. “Can’t miss an opportunity to get you all soapy and wet, now can I?”

You laughed, and so did he–both of you loose and glowing in the afterglow haze, your bodies still humming from everything that had just happened. He was already halfway across the room before you could turn, catching your hand as you disappeared into the bathroom, tugging you back toward him for one more lingering kiss. Hot, slow, and full of promise, that the night was far from over.

[rhettmcsimp]

good god man 😮‍💨

[buckysdingus]

jealousy

rhett abbott x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: you meet a cowboy at a rodeo in a town you just moved to end up against his truck with him against you.

warnings: lower case writing. smut MDNI 18+ hand riding, lil bit of dirty talking.

a/n: based off this request! first time writing smut 🤠 lmk if you wanna see more!

send me more requests!

masterlist

your friend was the one who dragged you to the rodeo. the day before she dragged you to a boot shop and got you your first pair of boots along with a dark green hat.

you were new to town and have never experienced the towns rodeo. why you moved to wabang, wyoming? no one understood and honestly they questioned your sanity. you didn't grow up on a ranch or farm but you also didn't grow up in the city. you were more drawn to the large landscape of nothing but hills and trees.

you weren't uncomfortable but you definitely felt out of place. your eyes were darting around trying to take everything. your eyes were lit up with curiosity and wonder.

"oh there's some open seats," your friend, sarah, exclaims pointing and then pulling a little too hard towards them. you're sat front row.

now you're sat near the bulls entrance to the arena. your eyes were glued to the men getting ready to hop on one of the animals.

one of the bulls jerks in the rails and your body tenses.

"easy girl," sarah pats your knee, "you're so tense. ease up."

you eyes still haven't left the rails.

one man climbs the rails and sits atop the bull. his blue jeans melting nicely with the chaps he wears. you could see his belt buckle from here. his long sleeve plaid button down with a brown vest over it looked good on him. his dark brown hat tried to hide long curls but you saw them poking out from under the hat.

"who's that?" you ask nodding to the man.

sarah smiles, "why? you like what you see?" she asks.

you roll your eyes with a smile and nudge her with your shoulder, "oh hush, seriously who is that?"

the rail opens and the bull rushes out already trying to buck the cowboy off. his hand is tight on the reins with his other lifted high in the air. he reaches up to his hat and pulls it off holding it.

one powerful buck from the animal and his hat is tossed in the air along with his body. his hand releases the hat and it flies towards you. you reach forward grabbing it as his body hits the dirt ground.

you grip the rim of the hat as you wince, watching him hit the ground. he's quick to stand, though, dusting his jeans off and rubbing his jaw.

he begins to look around for his hat and a surge of confidence flows through you.

"hey cowboy!" you shout to the man.

he turns towards you and you lift his hat, "looking for something?"

he chuckles and places his hands on his hips, walking towards you. he stops a few feet from you, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"well i haven't seen you around before," he tilts his head with a cocky grin.

you toss the hat towards him like a frisbee.

"why? you would've remembered if you had?" you ask mirroring his crossed arms, you pop out a hip.

"damn straight." his deep, raspy accent does something for you, "thank you darlin," he winks.

he places his hat back on his head and turns walking back to the rails and climbing over them.

"what the fuck was that?" sarah asks.

"i have no idea," you turn to her with a grimace, "did i just embarrass myself?"

"judging from how he's still looking at you, i doubt it." she says and nods behind.

you turn your head and the man is starting back at you, he smiles with a nod. you smile and give a small wave turning back to sarah.

"you've just flirted with rhett abbott," she tells you with a big smile, "impossible to settle down with him."

you nod taking your seat again, "anything else i should know,"

"him and this girl maria have been off and on for a couple years but i wouldn't worry about her," sarah explains.

you look over to rhett again and he's talking to a girl, long dark hair and a tight long sleeve, "her?" you ask with a curious tone.

sarah looks over and nods, "yeah, that's her."

rhett smiles at something maria says and you conclude right then and there you will not be getting in the middle of whatever that is.

you will not be someone who breaks people up for their own gain. you don't that be flirted right back at you, if he's got someone you will not be causing anything.

you miss the next rodeo because of your new job. everyone seems to be hungry after a rodeo.

you clean tables until they shine or try to at least. the tables are so old and have a weird film on them, it's almost impossible to get whatever that stickiness is off.

nearing midnight, a couple of guys come in and sit in a booth in the corner. you get their order started and ring up a few others.

when the last couple steps away you look up through the diner window and see a familiar bull rider smoking a cigarette. the girl next to him, who you remember to be maria, looks angry.

she gestures towards the diner and stomps off with a huff. you hoped she was okay, and hoped you weren't the cause of whatever argument they just had.

rhett flicks the cigarette to the ground and stomps is out under his boot and pulls the door open. he sniffs and wipes his nose, a frown evident on his face. his eyes are trained to the ground while he weaves through tables.

he makes it to the bar, taking a seat with a sigh. then he finally lifts his head and he silently kicks himself for not looking up earlier. his frustrated sigh melts into a high and wide smile.

"hey sweetheart," he tries a new nickname, "didn't know you worked here," he tilts his head.

"i did just move here, remember?" you ask placing a hand on your hip.

"right," he nods, "thought i missed you tonight,"

"rhett abbott were you looking for little ole me?" you ask faking a gasp with hand over your chest.

he shrugs and leans back in his chair, "was just checking to see if you caught my hat again,"

"mhmm. well a girls gotta make some money so here i am," you tell him, "with that being said, what can i get ya?" you ask for his order.

you can see the shimmer in his eye as he thinks about asking for a date or a drinks some time but he reluctantly leaves that option.

"just a water, please," he decides.

you nod, "comin up," you turn grabbing a glass and filling it with water and placing it in front of him, "you want somethin to eat?"

he shakes his head, "no, no i'm alright." he avoids your eyes, taking a sip of the water.

you tilt your head slightly with squinted eyes, "you sure you're alright?"

you may not know him fully but you can tell something's up and you got nothing but time. the four guys in the corner have already scarfed down their food and left the money on the table.

he looks up to you, holding the glass by the top and letting it dangle from his fingertips. he sets the glass down, "you're observant aren't you?" you think for a split second that he was mocking you but his face is showing genuine interest.

you shrug, "i'm good at readin people,"

he gives a small smile and rubs his eyes, "i didn't do too hot tonight. so guess i wa glad you weren't there," he mutters the last part with the glass already close to his lips. he takes more sips from the glass and sets it down again, "not my best night. can i get a whiskey on the rocks,"

you nod, turning to grab the whiskey bottle, "well you don't put the pressure on yourself that you're going to be the best every time, right?" you ask turning back around and pouring the dark liquor in the glass before him.

"of course i do. my dad more so,"

"your dad?"

he nods, "royal abbott," he smacks his lips and throws the whiskey back.

"another?" you ask, he nods.

you pour the liquor again, "i'm sorry," you tell him, "you did good the night i was there. it was just an off night," you encourage him.

"thanks darlin," he smiles and throws back the whiskey again.

he leans forward and pulls out his wallet and lays down a bill.

"have good night, thanks for listening," he says standing to his feet.

"any time," you match his smile.

he starts walking through the table and reaches to the back of his jean pocket and pulls out some marlboro reds and a lighter.

you pick up the bill and your brows furrow, "rhett!" you call after him, he turns with his brows raised. his eyes go from yours to the bills in your hands to your eyes again.

"keep the change," he winks with a smirk and walks out, lighting a cigarette.

you look down at the fifty in your hands and roll your eyes. you break it and spill the extra thirty dollars into your back pocket.

♡︎✰ ✰ ✰✰ ✰ ✰♡︎

sarah meets you near a food stand inside and already has a drink ready for you the next week at the rodeo.

"watermelon mint margaritas!" she exclaims.

you shrug, why not, and take the drink. one sip and you groan at how good it truly is. you never thought watermelon and mint would be good together.

"we have to get you on the mechanical bull tonight," sarah grins with her eyebrows raised.

you shake your head swallowing a sip of your drink, "what? no, there's no way,"

"oh come on everyone does it at least once," she pleads.

"get me another drink and i'll think about," you tell her with a chuckle.

"what're you drinking?" the deep, raspy voice asks behind you.

you turn, "it's watermelon mint marg..." your words trail off as rhett stands before you.

his eyes look darker in this light, or lack thereof. the shadows that dance across his face highlight certain bones, like his cheekbones. they protrude out and you can make out some stubble on them.

his jaw is pronounced and sharp, set in a hard line though he's smiling. his lips look soft. you didn't need to touch them to know that, the warm pink color glossy from licking them all night.

his brown curls still peek out from under his hat, they look slightly wet from sweat but you'd still run your hands through them, twirl the curls around your finger.

you want him wrapped around your finger.

"hey cowboy," you say, forcing a not-nervous smile. you can't have the cocky bastard knowing he makes you even slightly nervous.

"darlin," he nods, he looks to sarah, "ma'am," sarah just smiles.

"as if we didn't go to school together all our lives," sarah laughs.

rhett shrugs, "manners. my ma would kill me if i didn't show em," he replies.

"oh i know," sarah tells him, "i'm going to the bathroom, have fun," her voice slips into a sing song tone at the last part as she floats away.

you force yourself to not roll your eyes at the obvious gesture of getting you and rhett alone.

"so another drink then the bull?" he asks, his grin spreading across his face.

"bet i'll stay on longer than you," you bet him.

he raises his eyebrows, "really? we'll see,"

he walks you over to the bar and pays for another drink for you. you go to protest but he's already handing cash over the bartender. she thanks him and makes your drink.

he hands it to you, "thank you," you thank him. he merely nods.

you take a sip and roll your eyes back, "here, you have to try this,"

he shakes his head, "can't drink darlin, i'm a rider,"

"so am i," you murmur and you think he misses it but he doesn't. he tries to hide his smirk with a rub of his jaw though it doesn't do much.

once you finish your drink he stands in line with you for the mechanical bull. once you're at the front he walks up there with you.

his touch is light but yo still feel his hand son your hips as he helps you up and over.

"take this," he hands you the rope, "and grip it as hard as you can," he taps your thigh with the back of his fingers, "grip your thighs just as tight. if the bull goes forward so do your hips,"

"you're gonna regret helping me," you tell him, "might even steal your career,"

"uh huh," he nods, grinning like an idiot. he takes his hat off placing it on yours and walking off. he hops off the inflatable ground and jumps over the fence that encases the inflatable ground.

he stands back, arms crossed.

there's a bell and the bull starts to move. it spins for a moment then jerks forward.

"whoa," you say as you move forward. you remember what rhett said, mov your hips with it.

you roll your hips forward, looking down at the bull, one hand grip the the reins and the other high in the air. there's a whistle and you just know it's coming from rhett's mouth.

you smile at the sound and thought.

rhett watches you with a careful eye. he was focused on your smile as you rode but then it's like he saw your brain start thinking of what he said to you. his eyes went from your smile to your hips.

with each roll it became impossible for him to not watch. you move seamlessly with the bull and he could see your thighs tighten at certain spots, those jeans looked good on you.

when you rolled your hips while looking down and when the bull jerked forward your hand splayed on the body of it in front of you.

then he had to look away or he'd rip you off that bull.

you're jerked to the side and and the mechanical bull bucks up, pushing your body back, your hips follow back. after about four seconds it speeds up. you rock your hips and squeeze your thighs as much as you can.

the bull does a combo as spinning you, bucky up then jerking you to the side and you fall off. your back hits the inflatable ground.

rhett is above you a second later, he clears his throat, "well you lasted eight seconds which is a qualified ride but my longest is eleven seconds," he tells you offering his hand to you.

you take it, your soft skin against his calloused one sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you up with ease, the veins in his arm protruding out and his bicep muscles on full display.

when rhett felt your hand on his something in him shifted. why is someone as soft and playful as you giving him the light of day or in this case a star in the middle of a dark sky. he didn't understand why you were giving him any attention at all.

"so, better luck next time,"

you roll your eyes, "you have to admit i rode it pretty well,"

"really well," you replies back.

this time the flirty tone hit you like a brick to the head.

"are you and maria a thing?" you ask, stopping the rhythm the two of you had, taking your hand away from his.

his hand felt empty, was empty. the sudden change in temperature threw him off. the softness gone. he always loses the softness, your softness so quickly. it irritates him.

"what?" he blinks at you.

"the girl? from the night we met and the night at the diner? i don't- i don't want to intrude on anything," you explain.

realization hits him, "oh no, she's a friend. we had a weird thing in high school but there's nothing behind it," the genuineness in his voice convinces you. he reaches out for your hand but you pull back and press just a little harder.

"i'm serious rhett, i don't want to ruin anything," you tell him. you didn't want there to be anything going on. you want to through caution to the wind and fall for or with him but you had to make sure.

"i'm serious too," he says taking your hand and you let him, "there's nothing. that night at the diner, we were talking about family shit and how shitty that tournament was that night. you're not a problem," he tells you, "and i'd let you ruin me over and over again,"

you smile, "you're trouble,"

he shrugs. he looks down at a watch on his wrist, "i'll see you in the stands yeah?"

you nod, "yeah," you go on your toes and kiss his cheek, "good luck,"

you see the blush move across his cheeks even in the dark of the night. he starts to walk away but you grab his wrist, "your hat-"

"keep it on, looks better on you," he winks.

if this boy keeps winking his eye's gonna get stuck.

you let his wrist loose and he jogs away towards the arena.

sarah finds you and complains about having to watch from a distance. she pulls you to the front row seats that were reserved for you two. you smile like an idiot knowing it was rhett.

your eyes never stray from the bull rider rails. finally, rhett climbs up the rails and settles onto the bull.

you watch the arena lights dance across his face. his show stopping, beautiful face. his stubble shines in the lights with his brown curls on full display.

rhett slips his hand under the reins and grips them tightly. he pats the side of the bull and takes a deep breath.

he can't help it. his head moves to the side, to you. he looks over and you're already looking at him, watching him. he smiles at the attention, he never wants to see you without that smile.

he nods to you, you tip your- his hat at him with a wink. if he can do it you can too.

he looks forward now, taking a couple more deep breaths before nodding at the men. a buzzer goes off, the gate opens and the bull bucks out.

the bull jerks and spins but rhett is still holding on. his free hand is high in the air and watches his other hand that grips the reins. his thighs tighten and his hips roll and now you u destined why he was all flustered after watching you.

at the thirteen second mark the bull bucks and jerks and rhett falls off to the side. the bulls back legs go up and look like they'll come down on rhett.

"rhett!" you yell standing to your feet, leaning over the railing then suck in breath as the bulls legs go down.

rhett's fast. he rolls to the side and stands quickly moving away and climbing up a railing. he looks over to the score board.

thirteen seconds. holy shit.

"yeah baby! come on!" he shouts jumping down the railing and looking around. his eyes spot you once more and he rushes over, climbing your railing.

you take his hat off and put it back on his head. he tips it up as he leans up, you follow his lead. your lips touch in excitement and you end up melting into him. your hands on his jaw, pulling him closer.

you pull back, "you're trouble rhett abbott," you repeat.

“so are you,” he says breathlessly, stealing another kiss.

♡︎✰ ✰ ✰✰ ✰ ✰♡︎

as the months go by you and rhett become inseparable. you're at every rodeo? every tournament, right there front row.

he settles onto the bull, looks over to you with a nod and you return one then he's off. you never get bored of it.

you were getting a bit… jealous.

you lean against rhett’s truck, waiting for him to come to you. he had sponsors to talk to and there’s no telling what his dad had to say about his performance tonight.

you’ve opened the back door and are leaned against the back seats. your arms crossed over your chest.

the parking lot is empty by time you see rhett walking towards you.

“hey darlin,” he smiles, “sorry to keep you waiting,”

you shrug, “i don’t mind,” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, his lips attaching to your neck. your hands rake through his curls poking from under his hat.

“you know,” you begin, a smirk floating onto your face, “you do a good job at making me jealous,” this stops him.

rhett knows for a fact you’re not the type to get jealous easily, you never have. even when the whole thing maria happened when you first met, you weren’t jealous just didn’t want to intrude.

“what’s that now?” he pulls away from your neck, hands moving to your waist.

“you always get to ride this bull,” you start, a finger tracing his jaw, “i never get to ride you,” you tilt your head with a faux frown.

he chuckles or scoffs your brain can’t tell difference before his hands squeeze your waist and he’s pushing you back into his truck. his mouth going to yours in an animalistic way.

he’s acting like a thirsty man and you’re his oasis. you are the very thing keeping him alive and going, in more ways than one.

his knee nudges your thigh from underneath, his foot resting on the foot step. there’s the tiniest bit of friction from his own thigh on you and you moan, your mouth opening and head tilting back.

“mm mm,” he hums shaking his head, “come here,” his hand pulls your head back down. his mouth reconnects with your sand he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

he loves the taste of you. once again, he’s starved. he gets one taste of you and it’s like he hasn’t eaten in years.

you lick across his bottom lip and tug at it. he opens his eyes to look at you do it and jesus christ he could fall out right now.

his hands move down your neck with a feather like touch down your chest, stomach and finally

ending at your jeans.

he says your name softly, gently.

“can i?” he asks.

“please touch me,” you nod. you lean back, hands grasping the the back seats on the side.

you watch as his hands undo the button and he slowly pulls down your zipper.

you roll your hips forward trying to create some friction, but he stops your hips with his hands. you groan tilting your head back.

“rhett please,”

“now you got me all worked up and you tryin to rush what i want to give you, huh?” he asks breathlessly, “you wanna ride?”

you nod desperately.

he opens your jeans and slides a hand down the front of you. inside your jeans, inside your parties until he hits it.

one ghost like swipe across your clit and your legs are already shaking.

“rhett..” you breathe. he pushes his knee behind your thigh again and you open wider.

“hold on,” he voice rasps. two of his fingers running along your folds, coating you with your wetness.

“damn baby, you been waitin for this huh?”

you nod, you lean forward, you forehead laying on his shoulder.

“you get all dolled up, come to my tournament, tell me how jealous i make you when i ride them bulls. you thinking of me when i do?”

you nod.

“come on use your words pretty girl,” he says, slipping a finger into you.

you gasp, “fuck. yes, yeah,”

“good girl,” his voice seems to float to your ears and run through your veins all the way to your clit.

“rolling my hips, squeezing my thighs,” when he says it you do it. you roll forward on his hand and try to squeeze your thighs.

“come on, ride my hand darlin,”

you follow his instruction, rocking back a forth on his hand. his thumb presses against your clit a couple of times before he starts to circle it. he slips another finger in for you.

“oh shit-“ you moan, “rhett,” you rock fast and harder, “r-rub. faster,” you’re out of breath.

he smiles at you. he watches the way your

brows pinch together, the way you eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth hangs slightly open.

you grab onto his shoulders, your nails sinking into his skin. he hisses slightly enjoying the small amount of pain.

his smile widens as he thinks about you marking him. he’s all yours and he palms to keep it that way.

“rhett… i’m gonna-“

before you can finish his mouth is on yours and he picks up his pace. you match him and a few seconds later you’re unraveling.

you moan against his lips, your body going numb. you slump against him and then move back slowly to lean against the truck. his leg keeps you in place.

he pulls his hand out, immediately tasting you. he groans at the taste.

“sweetest thing i’ve ever tasted,” he says. you watch him lick his fingers clean, “no bull can do that,” he tells you.

he leans forward kissing you again.

he smiles into the kiss and pulls back only slightly, “now, you still jealous?”

“i’ll say it every night it means you do that,” you tell him. you raise your hands and hook his jaw, pulling him in again to kiss you.

when done, he buttons and zips you back up. he walks you to the passenger side and helps you climb in. he buckles you seat belt and kisses your knuckles, then he shuts your door.

he gets into the truck and revs it. he takes you home.

[rhettrosunsets]

Porch Swings And Promises - Rhett Abbott X Fem! Reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: A warm summer evening in Wabang and a porch swing leads Rhett to having a realization while he holds his four year old daughter.

Masterlist

Warnings: No use of Y/N, no description of reader, Rhett doubting himself as a parent, mentions of your daughter being a surprise, mentions of Rhett's own upbringing.

Edited ✅

Notes: Kind of want to make this a little series with reader and Rhett's backstory, how they met, when they found out they where having their daughter, their wedding, etc if anyone would be interested in that. 🤔

The porch swing creaked softly under Rhett’s weight as he gently rocked back and forth, 

The Wyoming sunset painted a hue of soft oranges and pinks across the sky on the clear summer evening. And on his chest bundled in her softest unicorn pajama set and her hair still partly damp from her bath laid your four year old daughter, her tiny hand curled into his worn flannel shirt.

He had one arm wrapped around her back, the other cradling the back of her head like he did when she was still just a new-born.

"You gettin’ sleepy, Sunshine?" he murmured against her temple. She made a soft humming noise instead of answering him, just nestling closer to him, her cheek pressed right over his heart. Something she’s done from the minute he held her for the first time.

Rhett exhaled softly, one hand moving in gentle soothing strokes down her tiny back. His fingers were calloused from years of ranch work and rodeo rides but they were always gentle when it came to you and her.

“You know” he said softly looking up, almost more like he was talking to the sky rather than to her “I was real’ scared when I found out I was gonna be your dad. You were quite a shock to your momma and I.”

The wind blew softly, just enough to create a light breeze causing your daughter to curl even closer to Rhett's chest. While inside your home, the floor creaked as you moved through the kitchen, letting them have their moment together seeing the soft sight through the window as you sipped your tea with a soft knowing smile, quickly taking a photo with your phone.

“I didn’t really grow up knowin’ how to be soft,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her just a little “I didn’t know how to show love the right way and I didn’t think I’d ever be good at this. Your momma had to tell me over and over that she was confident I could do this, and it took me a long while to truly believe her..”

Your daughter blinked up at him with sleepy widened eyes, small and confused as she responds. “You are good at it, Daddy.” Rhett’s heart melted a bit at her sleepy reply as he kissed her forehead, before resting his chin atop her small head “You think so, Princess?”

She nodded firmly, her face determined despite her prior tiredness. “You make me pancakes with smiley faces and you sing the princess songs with me and mommy on movie nights. And, and you always check my closet for monsters, which makes you super brave.”

He let out a breathless chuckle, the kind that made his shoulders shake. “I’m glad you think so Princess.”

She snuggled closer and looked up at him with her eyes that she got from you, before muttering a soft “You’re the best daddy ever"

And well that, that undid him completely. It wasn't in a loud way, and not through tears either, but in the way he went quiet as he blinked up at the darkening sky as if trying to send up a prayer of gratitude for how grateful he was for you and your daughter. She was asleep before the stars came out, her little hand still fisted in the plaid fabric over his heart.

And Rhett sat there more in love with his tiny daughter and you than he’d ever thought possible. He promised himself that he’d do better than what he had, you two deserved the world and he’d try to give it to you. He promised that he’d love you two gently, and in the ways that his girls always deserved, Forever.

[attapullman]

Good at Makin' Bad Decisions | Rhett Abbott

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

Word Count: 2.5k

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

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

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

Wait, where are your pants?

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

A quick body scan results in these observations:

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

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

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

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

“Rhett?”

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

“Good mornin’ to y’too, sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

How had you landed in bed with Rhett Abbott? 

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

Why are you here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please tell me I didn’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need to get out of here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thecowboyfiles]

A Little Far From Home

￫ Description: It's Rhett's first time at a gay bar.

￫ c/w: This is male!reader sorry if it's not your cup of tea

￫ a/n: If you like this, I would love for you to check out my wishlist, nothing crazy, mostly just food and stationary stuff ❤

Rhett was nervous, tugging at his plaid shirt and pushing the tobacco in and out of his bottom lip as if the feel of it was some sort of comfort. It's not like he was new to getting out of Amelia County; it was just the reason that he was out there, a gay bar.

Autumn was the are who told him about it, it seemed she had clocked him from day one. Now, he was regretting the fact that he turned down her offer to come with.at least someone else would be here to soak up the nervous energy that was emanating off of him. Too late for that now.

Pushing open the door, Rhett takes a deep breath through his nose. It’s meant to calm him down, but it's a mistake as he just gets A big whiff of the smell of alcohol, sweat and sex. He's also keenly aware that he sticks out like a sore thumb in his cowboy hat, boots and oversized belt buckle. Luckily, no one seems to notice him, at least not right away.

He makes it all the way up to the bar and even orders a drink before the prettiest boy he’s ever seen slides up right next to him and takes a paper bill out of his pocket. Rhett can’t see how much it is, but it must have been enough for the drink because the bartender takes it without complaint.

“First ones on me,” you click your tongue and give a wink.

“Uh… thanks, thank you” Rhett sits up a little and clears his throat trying not to think about the fact that the wink made his stomach tighten. He shouldn’t be here right now. He should leave the drink where it is, go back to his truck and drive home. Maybe he could make it in time to read Amy a bedtime story. Except that he doesn’t do any of that. His limbs don’t seem to be cooperating with his brain, and he can’t get enough strength in his legs to push himself up off the stool that he is sitting on.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” You continue to talk to him like you can’t tell how nervous he is, and the music is so loud that you have to lean in close enough for him to smell your aftershave.

“Yeah, No, I… i’ve never been here before.” now that it was Rhett‘s turn to lean in, he couldn’t help but wonder what he smelled like. He hoped that it wasn’t literal and figurative bullshit. Luckily, the bartender chose that moment to slide his drink across the table, and he leaned back in favour of taking a drink instead of running his mouth for once.

“I guess tonight is my lucky night then, isn’t it?” you give a grin that can only be described as wolf like with the way that you show every single one of your teeth and in a moment of bold stupidity, you open your mouth, just a little to brush those teeth over Rhett’s ear. You can feel the way that his body tightens. That was the wrong move, but you can’t take it back.

Rhett drinks from the beer bottle like he’s been stuck in the desert for three days and you can’t help but raise your eyebrows at him, then another smile. “I don’t suppose you’d like to have a dance with me would you, cowboy?”

Rhett opens his mouth and for a moment it seems like he’s going to say yes but then that same mouth closes again and he shakes his head. “No I don’t think so. I don’t really dance” He wanted to, he really did, but he wasn’t sure how dancing with a boy would differ from dancing with a girl, and he didn’t understand the logistics of who was supposed to lead when there was no societal rule telling him the answer.

Even with someone you wanted as much as you wanted Rhett, you were never good at taking no per an answer and you assume that all guys are playing hard to get. It’s more fun that way anyway so when you give another grin and reach up to take the cowboy hat off of Rhett’s head, it’s just another night out for you. You certainly don’t understand what that means to a real cowboy like Rhett and you laugh as you placed it on top of your head, watch the man’s stunned face, and then turn around making your way to the dance floor.

Rhett thinks it’s safe to say that he’s panicking a little, at least in his head. He has no idea what to do. On one hand, if you know about the cowboy hat rule, then maybe you took it on purpose and this was part of the flirting. On the other hand, if you didn’t know-which, Rhett wouldn’t fault you for, then you just unknowingly signalled him and everyone else in this bar, to something that you didn’t really want. he can only see one solution, and that is finally getting up off of the barstool and going over to you to clear this whole thing up.

This place is busier than every other country bar in Wabang, and Rhett isn’t used to the way that everybody’s body seems to press right up against his. No one is giving anyone any space. “You know what you just did?” He has to lean in again, chest to chest and practically yelling in your ear. “Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule?”

“Oh you mean the one where if you steal the hat you have to ride the cowboy?” you smirk.

Rhett chuckles, low and warm in your ear. “That’s the one, pretty boy,”

“Yeah, I know the one. I was hoping you’d let me take you for a ride.”

[delopsia]

What about lewis's characters as cam boys? 🍑

Now, this is a real find 👀alright, it'll be good for the economy Contains: Rhett Abbott, Bob Floyd, Miles Miller, Jordan Weaver, Harrison Knott and Major Major

Rhett is the biggest slut on the site. He's best known for riding his favorite toys in an empty pasture or hurriedly fisting his cock in the front seat of his truck, but he's not above taking requests or playing with sponsored toys in his bedroom. He's the most active out of the bunch, taking advantage of his high sex drive to entertain everybody.

Aaaalways has that damn cowboy hat on; it's very rare to see him without it, and those chaps?? Fan favorite. He's been known to play up the whole cowboy thing, intentionally using Western slang, and he's practically trademarked the concept of riding toys/pretending his fleshlight is someone riding him.

Sometimes, if he's feeling horny and adventurous, he'll even ask his partner to come in and dominate him. Those are always a hell of an experience. You're the one that controls what they see of you, Rhett leaves those reins in your hands in your hands alone. If you want to hide yourself, then that's okay with him, but if you want your face right next to his, then have at it! He's thrilled to let everyone know what's his and who he belongs to.

Bob only films while wearing a little black mask. Everyone thought he was being quirky during the pandemic, but he simply can't film without it. His viewers can always tell when he's enjoying himself because those wireframes perched on his nose start getting all foggy. Stutters when he reads the live chat and visibly becomes red when someone suggests something even remotely dirty.

He's very, very vanilla, prefers to entertain folks who want to see him play with his cock, but every once in a blue moon, he'll treat everyone to the sight of him fucking himself on a thick toy. Always uses the fleshy/realistic ones, determined to make it look as real as he can get it. He plays into viewer requests very easily, if he sees someone ask him to reach down and play with his balls, then hey, that's what he's doing!

He'll let his partner join in if they want to, but it 1) takes him forever to tell you about this particular career choice (he's mortified about putting it into words) and 2) his viewers aren't going to see very much of you. Like he doesn't want them to see anything more than your hand on his cock; he's possessive like that.

Miles? The sweetest thing to ever grace a camera. Thigh-high stockings, plaid skirts, pastel pink and baby blue toys. He loves feeling comfy and cozy when he's intimate; everything has to be perfect and fit his chosen aesthetic! Such high production value for a man who's too shy to look into a camera. Please don't ask him to read the chat; he'll burn into oblivion.

Probably one of the most vocal out of the bunch. He doesn't say a whole lot, but he'll lay there in his bed, whimpering and mewling like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Is also very well known for how shaky he can get when he's close; it's such an obvious tell that his audience can guess when he'll cum.

He starts out solo, but it very quickly becomes something that Miles likes doing with his partner. He's just a little guy; please fuck his poor little ass until he's begging you to stop, spank him, ride him to the point of tears streaming down his pretty face, spit on him, pull his hair, and make him say something dirty to the viewers.

Jordan puts on a show. Like he's the only one of the boys who is gonna twirl himself around on a pole and put on a little performance before the fun starts. Has been known for the occasional workout tease live stream and fucking a toy in the bathroom after. He's got the widest variety of toys, fantasy dildos, fucking machines, brightly colored cock sleeves. Jordan is the guy to try anything and everything at least once.

He intentionally plays himself off as a dumb, air-headed twenty-something, and that makes it very easy to lure in donations. Some folks think they're paying enough to pressure or trick him into doing something they want, but they don't realize they're playing right into his hand.

Jordan is also the most on and off about letting you come on camera with him. Some days he wants to hide you from their greedy eyes, some he doesn't care, but he also loves having the spotlight on himself. It's a conflicting thing, but if you really want to join, then all you've got to do is remind him of the spike in donations that come in when he's got someone else to play with.

Harrison is...truly something. He knows that his viewers are there to oggle at his body, and he plays into that a lot. Tight-fitting clothes, filming right after a workout when he knows his muscles are still hot and swollen. He's even got an Amazon wishlist full of stuff that his viewers send him to wear.

Like Bob, he's got a preference to focus on his cock and occasionally his nipples, but sometimes he'll get into a mood where he'll finger himself while he jerks his cock in that big fist of his. Whatever he's doing, he's always in lighting and angles that compliment his build, biting his lip and looking into the camera like he's beckoning the viewer to come and do whatever they please to him.

If you're on camera with him, then he isn't even paying attention to the viewers. He. Does. Not. Care. What. They. Want, he cares about what you're doing, and that's it. Probably the most intimate out of all of them, fucking you exactly how he would in private or even letting you take control and split him open on that pink dildo that's been sitting in the corner of all his videos...did you know that he kicks his left leg when he's getting fucked?

Major Major is the biggest tease known to man. Strips for certain donation goals, says he'll use a certain toy when they hit a marker, but then turns around and entirely forgets once he gets there. He's a frustrating little guy, but he's got a charm to him that keeps reeling new folks in.

When he does follow through with it, it's a sight to behold, though. He babbles so much, regardless of what he's doing; his viewers got him to climb in his car's backseat and fuck his ass on a toy once, and it was on the front page for weeks. Mindlessly yammering about how worried he was that someone would see him, how this was a bad idea, but oh, oh, that feels good.

You know what it is he's doing, but if you want to join, then you'll have to ask because he practically forgets about it the moment the livestream ends. His content doesn't really change; he's still just as babbly, except this time, he has someone who will talk back to him and give him a bigger reason to ramble.

[sebsxphia]

(this got out of control, sorry not sorry) i kinda love the idea of enemies to lovers with rhett. maybe she’s the smart girl in town, went away to a good college, got her degree/s, came back home to help with her parent’s business and rhett just think she’s snobby, and rude and pretentious. and she doesn’t think any better of him — lazy, hot headed, unmotivated, waste of true talent. maybe they keep bumping into each other — at the bar, at the grocery store, the local diner. and they can’t help, but pick silly little fights with each other. over nothing! for making too much noise at the bar (‘people come here to relax an’ listen to music, not ya damn yappin’!’), blocking the aisle with their cart (‘how is anyone supposed to efficiently grocery shop with you blocking the entire aisle?!’), not leaving a decent tip for the waitress (‘come on, three dollars?! you know deb has two lil ones at home, she needs the cash. don’t be cheap!’) and eventually it boils over. maybe they’re at that same bar, maybe some guy from out town is chatting to her. and she’s into it. smiling softly, giggling at all his jokes, bar stool turned his way. rhett’s watching from across the bar, peeling at the label on his beer bottle. he can’t help the way his teeth clench at the sight of her leaning to whisper in this guy’s ear. he has no idea what a piece of work this girl is. he smirks as the urge over takes him, yelling across the bar, “she’s more trouble than she’s worth, pal. too much brain, not enough sense. get out while ya still can.” her head whips over to him and he sees them flash with that familiar anger and he almost shivers. but the guy she’s talking to must have been waiting for a reason to get up because he pushes his stool back and tells her to have a good night, an almost apologetic smile on his face. then he’s gone and her cheeks are hot and tears are suddenly swimming in her eyes. she looks over at rhett and he’s just a blurry blob of red plaid. “i guess if you’re not happy, no one gets to be, huh?” and she’s throwing money on the bar and she’s gone. he feels confused watching her leave, the normal thrill of getting to her noticeably absent. the only thing is feels is… bad. guilty. ashamed. he mutters a “goddamnit” and then he’s following her. he stops her outside the bar with her name. “hey, look, i’m sorry, okay? how was i supposed to know that idiot would get up and leave?” he throws his hands wide in frustration and she scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “we always get on each other’s case, i thought he could take it. he was talkin’ to you afta’ all, torture must be his thing.” he adds without thinking and, suddenly, his cheek is stinging. she slapped him. she fucking slapped him. he looks down at her, her breathing heavy, eyes blazing. “you are so fucking annoying, rhett abbott.” he presses closer to her, “well, you oughta know, honey. i learned from the best.” and her eyes are on his, tension radiating off of her. he almost misses it, the way her eyes drop to his lips. he smirks, jumping at his chance. he grabs her face, tilting her up to him and then his mouth is on hers. and she squeaks into his mouth before melting into the kiss. she throws her arms around his shoulders, pressing up onto her toes and pressing her lips harder against his. his hands move to grip her waist as he shuffles them back so they’re pressed against the side of the bar. he nips at her bottom lip and she opens her mouth with a sigh. he presses his tongue against hers and she moans for him oh so sweetly. she pushes his hat off his head so she can run her fingers through hair, grabbing a fistful of it in her fingers and giving a sharp tug. his head pulls away from her mouth and she opens her eyes to look at him, really look at him. face flushed, pupils blown wide, her handprint still visible on his left cheek. she feels the arousal between her legs instantly. “look at you…” she whispers before attaching her lips to the underside of his jaw. his eyes slip shut and he tilts his head back to give her more room. (1/2)

OH MY GOD?! MY DEAR ANON! i cannot believe that you sent this to me for free 🥺😵‍💫

she pushes his hat off his head so she can run her fingers through hair, grabbing a fistful of it in her fingers and giving a sharp tug. his head pulls away from her mouth and she opens her eyes to look at him, really look at him. face flushed, pupils blown wide, her handprint still visible on his left cheek. she feels the arousal between her legs instantly. “look at you…” she whispers before attaching her lips to the underside of his jaw. his eyes slip shut and he tilts his head back to give her more room.

then he’s pressing his lips to her cheek before whispering “i fuckin’ love it when we fight.”

taking his hat off! the handprint still being there! look at you! rhett pressing his lips to their cheek before whispering that!

ohhhhhh my god, this is so incredibly perfect and i absolutely love this my dear anon! i believe that rhett would make a very good enemies to lovers trope. he’s got a lot of pent up anger and frustration, but sometimes he can’t tell when it’s love. his relationship with his family has completely skewed that for him, but this is the perfect example of what could happen 🤭

i’m so incredibly grateful for you sending me this my dear anon! and please, never apologise! thank you so much for this, mwah! 💗💌

[deathsplaything]

It's Time for Tea || Alistair & Rhett

LOCATION: High Tea TIMING: Before What If PARTIES: Alistair (@deathsplaything) and Rhett (@ironcladrhett) SUMMARY: Rhett and Alistair decide to go to a high tea to cause some chaos. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

As far as Alistair McKenzie was concerned, gender was a social construct. As soon as the opportunity had presented itself in the form of a fellow unhinged blind man terrorizing fancy old women trying to enjoy a tea party, the necromancer had jumped at the opportunity, dressed in brown corduroy pants and a dark green buttoned shirt with a leaf pattern on it, as well as a pair of heeled ankle boots with dragonflies embroidered on them. Upon his head was a large, black, floppy hat with a dragonfly broach stuck through it. His shoulder-length red hair was half tied up and curled. Clearly, they’d taken a lot of care into their appearance today. In one hand was Brutus’s harness, who was dressed with a navy bowtie on his collar, and in the other was a smaller floppy hat with flowers attached to it. If he and this new friend of his were going to irritate the old women who frequented this establishment, they would do so as stylishly as possible.

The two had agreed to meet at the side of the fancy tea house before going in together. As the necromancer heard approaching footsteps, they raised a brow and gave a lopsided grin. “I hope you’re who I think you are and not the staff.” Alistair called out. “Otherwise I have a long uber drive home.” He handed the hat out in front of him. “For you, good sir, as discussed.” He gave a low bow, as if getting into character. “Shall we show these old ladies what a good time looks like? Drink some tea and maybe start a mini sandwich fight?” 

They grinned, exposing their teeth at the idea. Alistair’s round sunglasses were the only thing concealing the mischief that was shining in their eyes. “The name’s Alistair McKenzie.” They introduced with a flourish. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, fellow creature of chaos.”

—

He’d barely needed to explain the plan to his daughter before she was clapping her hands together excitedly and announcing that they were going thrifting. He didn’t know what that meant until he was in it, climbing down off the bus after Ophelia with his metal leg and his cane, letting her hold on to his arm as they moved down the line of storefronts, until… ah. 

It’d been an all-day affair, but the two had managed to find him something suitably flashy and obnoxious to wear, and Rhett actually found himself smiling, forgetting for a few hours all that he’d endured that’d brought him to this point, this state of infuriating uselessness. For a few hours, he was just having a good time with his kid, trying on ridiculous secondhand clothes and making her laugh. Ophelia, in turn, was just glad her dad had made plans with a new friend and that those plans weren’t going to be dangerous, just ridiculous. It was a breath of fresh air in what had otherwise been a pretty miserable few weeks for them. 

When the day arrived, Rhett donned his blue plaid slacks and solid blue vest over a white button-up, honestly probably looking nicer than he had in quite a while. Ophelia pulled his curly gray hair into a flattering up-do, and carefully tucked a silk square into his breast pocket, then accented it with a fresh sprig of rosemary. You’ll look nice and smell nice, she’d insisted. Who was he to argue? His one shoe was a stylish boot, the other foot, well… some sort of three-toed, metal claw contraption he’d forged for himself. It was for balance, not aesthetics, after all.

Limping up to the agreed meeting spot, his companion was hard to miss. A smirk settled on his grizzled features as he approached, seeing the hat extended to him and taking it gratefully. “Aye, m’ the one here fer mischief,” he concurred, giving the hat a quick inspection before plopping it on his head. Wouldn’t you know it, the color of the blooms actually went well with his shade of blue!

Watching Alistair bow, Rhett snorted. “Hell yeah. Ain’t been in a proper food fight since I was three. ‘Bout time, eh?” An introduction was made, and the warden straightened himself up (even though Alistair couldn’t see it), clearing his throat slightly before speaking. “Rhett Tangaroa. Nice to… meet you, et cetera.” He wasn’t great with fancy verbiage, clearly. Tapping his cane on the ground, he looked in the direction of the entrance. “Right, well, best get on with it. Don’t wanna keep this captive audience watin’ any longer!”

—

Unable to stop the snicker from escaping past their lips. “Three? Well, maybe there will be time to stop at a restaurant afterward, as finger foods will barely do anything for you.” Alistair made a face, thinking of the little triangle cucumber sandwiches that will inevitably be served. “And by afterward, I mean when we’re kicked out so fast our heads spin.” 

The spellcaster had almost forgone Brutus and chose to use a white mobility cane but decided if they were going to get kicked out for being unruly, they might as well teach the old bats something along the way. “Hopefully, I won’t be given a hard time for Brutus,” Alistair murmured as they approached the entrance. “Follow my lead,” they spoke before pushing the door open and walking into the building.

“Welcome to L'heure du thé.” The hostess said with a bright smile, looking between the two. She glanced down at the dog, noticed his bowtie, then smiled. “Just the two of you today?” She asked, which earned a nod from Alistair in turn. “Great, follow me.” She spoke, gesturing to the man who seemed to have some sight. Alistair gave a soft command to Brutus in Gaelic, which caused the big dog to follow the woman with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. 

The woman was kind, taking the time to help Alistair navigate toward the seat. She said nothing about Brutus, which they were very grateful for. After the girl walked away, a man in a tailcoat walked up to the table and gave a polite smile. “Welcome! I am Jacque, your waiter for this afternoon.” Alistair tilted their head to the side then looked over in the direction of their waiter’s voice. “Could you read out the teas for me? I’m blind.” They explained with a polite but tight smile. If they were going to cause a bit of mayhem, might as well start off on the right foot as opposed to being trouble right off the bat. 

“Of course, sir.” The waiter listed off the teas. “We have Earl Grey, chai, peppermint, camomile, fruit, herbal, and, of course, English breakfast.” Jacques clapped his hands together, that same air of superiority about him. “I’ll take Earl Grey.” Alistair spoke with a smile. “And give us the spread.” They quickly added. “My friend here has never experienced the fun that is high tea.” The spellcaster moved his head over in Rhett’s direction and gave the man a wink. “Very good, sir. And what tea will you have?” Jacques asked Rhett. Alistair, who figured the man knew very little about tea, smirked. “He’ll have chai.” Alistair answered for him, and the man went on his way. 

After Jacques had walked away, Alistair tipped his sunglasses below his eyes, his almost amber eyes twinkling with delight. “I can smell fish and eggs. Seems like you will be eating fancy today.” 

—

God, what an affair this already was. Unable to stop himself thinking that French really was a dumb-sounding language, Rhett was quiet while Alistair interacted with the hostess and waiter in turn, doing little more than raising an eyebrow at the coattails. The brutish part of him was annoyed the Alistair had ordered for him, but whatever remained of his logical brain realized and understood that it was for the best, so he was able to stifle the flare of vexation in favor of being grateful that he had yet to be put on the spot when it came to… speaking. He was not very good at speaking.

The glance over the top of Alistair’s glasses did bring a small smile to his face, but of course he remembered only after a beat that his companion couldn’t see it. Fuck’s sake, he was bad at this, despite being damn nearly mostly blind himself. Figured that he’d take what he still had for granted, that’s just the kind of person he was. So, for good measure, he added a soft, uncertain chuckle. 

“Oh aye? Fish n’ eggs? What makes that so fancy? Posh folk like the stinky food, eh?” Stinkier the better, he thought. More fun to fuck around with. Not that he could really judge their taste in food… it wasn’t like he ate well. Hell, some of the things he ate weren’t even supposed to be eaten. Fish and eggs was probably a huge step up from whatever he’d been putting in himself the last week.  

—

Alistair ran a hand through their hair after Rhett questioned the food choice, to which the redhead gave a shrug. “I can’t say I was let around the upper crust of society,” they responded as they put their chin in their hand. “And for good reason.” They added with a smirk. “I was sixteen when I first got into a fight with some rich bloke ‘round my age.” They remembered with a fondness, tilting their head to the side. “Went running back to their rich daddy who threatened to ruin me. Ruin what? I was sixteen.” They rolled their eyes. “Since then, I understood there was a very us versus them mentality when it came to rich folk.” 

Alistair turned his focus to the women gossiping behind him, whispering loudly to each other about “How could they let a dog in here? Don’t they know that’s unsanitary?” One whispered to the other. “Not to mention the redhead looks positively ridiculous.” This earned raised brows from Alistair, who was about to turn around and give them a piece of their mind when they remembered the mission. 

Turning their attention back to Rhett, hoping that he had heard what they had, Alistair grumbled something unintelligible under their breath, followed by “They’re my target. Someone deserves a face full of eggs.” 

—

“Mmm… there’s a sentiment I can agree with,” Rhett responded. “Only thing a rich man’s good for is trickin’ him outta his cash.” He’d done plenty of that alongside his sister when they were children, before their father had sold them off and instead had them grifting in every town and city they wound up in. “Money makes ya stupid. Dependant.” 

His attention slid to the two women, hearing their remarks as Alistair did. The warden snorted, leaning over to address Brutus, reaching out to pat his head. “Oi, don’t suppose you got a few rounds in the chamber, eh, lad? Those slags could use a little surprise under their table, I reckon.” Laughing to himself, Rhett straightened up and looked at Alistair again. “What you thinkin’, mate? Want me to huck it? I got damn good aim.”

—

Breaking out in a grin, Alistair nodded their head. There was an idea, maybe they should have thought of robbing all these idiots blind instead of throwing food into their hair. “Ngck. Next time we’re robbing them.” They decided with a smirk on their face. “What’s that saying the young folk have been using these days?” They thought for a moment, then raised a finger. “Money makes the world go ‘round, unfortunately.” They added as they leaned back in their seat, crossing one leg over the other. 

Brutus began wagging his tail at the sudden attention from Rhett, tilting his head back and forth as he was spoke to. Alistair took a moment to look through his familiar’s eyes to see Rhett with mischief written all over his face. “While I can’t say my dog shits on command, I will take you up on the offer.” Alisair motioned with their head towards the gossiping women who were still none the wiser. “Go for it.” They spoke with a wicked grin on their face. 

—

Their food was arriving as the go-ahead was given, and Rhett smirked to himself. “Aye aye,” he agreed, nodding in thanks to the waiter. With one hand, he got a serving spoon loaded up with whatever eggy dish this was supposed to be between them, holding it by the end of its handle and aiming the scoop in the women’s direction. His other hand reached for his tea, lifting the cup to his face. If they wanted this to last more than three seconds, he had to look preoccupied, after all. 

“Alright. Now lean just a touch to yer left, my friend,” Rhett instructed Alistair, taking a more precise aim with his spoon. A glance around them told him that no one was watching, and once Alistair was clear of the line of fire, he took a sip of tea and flicked the spoon forward. Eggy mess soared through the air, and before it’d even made impact the warden had set the spoon back down. The food collided with the side of the woman’s head and she shrieked loudly in response. Rhett did his best to look surprised, but there was a bit of laughter that was hidden in his cup of tea before he set it back down, trying to appear just as confused as everyone else. “Ohh, no, what happened?” he falsely sympathized, pouting his best pout and shaking his head. “The nerve of some people, am I right?”

—

Upon receiving the instruction to do so, Alistair casually leaned to their left, feeling the wooshing of the egg soaring through the air. Then Alistair leaned themselves back to the previous position. “Why the nerve!” The women shouted as Alistair picked up their cup and snickered into it. It was nice to meet someone who shared a sense of mischief. The old woman’s eyes narrowed at Rhett as he attempted to sympathize with the woman. “Why, I…” she snarled, hurriedly searching around for a waiter, who was already rushing over. “Ma’am, if you’re going to cause a disturbance like this, I will have to ask you to leave.” He explained in a hushed tone, which only fueled her ire. “I did nothing!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table as she shot up and pointed a finger towards Rhett. “The pair shouldn’t be here in the first place!” 

Alistair pressed a hand to their chest at the woman's declaration, carefully practiced shock plastered to their features. “My dear, the two of us are simply enjoying a good afternoon outing. If we wanted to cause problems, we would’ve gone to a dive bar.” He spoke in an even tone. The manager was getting involved with the women at this point, and before they knew it, the women were being escorted out and not allowed to return. As soon as they were all gone, Alistair turned their attention to Rhett with a grin breaking out on their face. “You, my friend, are amazing.”

—

What a joy it was to see someone so full of herself get her comeuppance. Or at least that's what Rhett had to assume, given her remarks about the odd pair. He watched with neatly hidden delight as she and her companion were escorted off the premises, their shouting dying down as the front door was closed to them forever. “I dunno what they're all in a huff over,” Rhett laughed. “Who'd wanna frequent this place?” It was fun as a first time experience, though… well, probably only because Alistair was like-minded when it came to getting into trouble. They'd probably make a good friend, he thought, if he was still capable of such things. Time would tell. 

“Amazing? Why, yes, it's about damn time someone noticed!” The warden gave a snort, earning him a glare from a different nearby table. He raised a brow, picking up his eggy spoon again and pointing it in their direction. They took the hint, hiding in their cup of tea and refusing to make eye contact again. he'd turn these types right around, given enough time. 

Leaning back into their chair, Alistair shrugged. “It’s their little slice of existence they’ve carefully carved out for themselves, and God forbid that someone up and changes that status quo.” They responded, taking a sip of the tea, then made a face. “This is… watery.” They spoke with distaste dripping from their words. Without any decorum, they swiftly dropped the act. Old ladies could insult them all they wanted, but messing with their tea? That was unforgivable. “Let’s give them hell.” His tone was dark and unyielding as they picked up the teacup and turned it upside-down.

Then, the game was on. They couldn’t see Rhett’s excitement but could feel it radiating from him in droves. “Put that amazing skill of yours to work. Go for between the eyes.” They proclaimed before picking up a piece of fish and throwing it with wild abandon, for once not caring how they appeared. For once, they were having a good time with a complete stranger that maybe, for once, they could see as a friend. 

Shrieks called out as the fish plopped somewhere, and Alistair grinned. This was going to be fun.

[gmmfashion]

Hi! Can you please tell me where Rhett’s jacket from in the episode of ear biscuits titled “Rhett gets in a car crash”? Thanks in advance

It's from the brand called Corridor. It's the Trailhead Plaid Button Up in color Multi. It's an older style and quite popular. So it it sold out across multiple sites.

[attapullman]

Hi, me again. Lol I would love to see your take on Rhett and reader getting busy at his house because they think it's empty. Turns out... it's not as empty as they thought. 👀😏

Good at Makin' Bad Decisions kind of plays into Rhett forgetting anyone is home, but here's some of Rhett not checking his phone because you know that boy has like 15 unread texts at any given time.

18+ it's not technically smut but like, kids go play your Pokemon, nothing to see here

Drabble Day

You pull away from his scruffy jaw, tapping the back of your head against the rickety farmhouse doorframe. “Rhett, your parents are home.”

Your cowboy whines against your cheek, twisting to get back at your lips. Hips rutting against yours from where he has you pinned against the shingled siding of the house. It feels like high school all over again, kissing in the shadows so the porch light doesn’t alert the house of your activities.

“No one’s home,” he breathes against the corner of your lip, hand coming up to hold the back of your neck to gain back his control. You melt too easily in his grip. “Church potluck. No trucks in the yard, house all t’ourselves.”

His smile shines bright white in the night.

It doesn’t take much convincing - the knee he’s had pressed between your thighs is a strong negotiator - before you are equally dragging each other inside and up the stairs. 

The house is silent, not a sound to be heard except for the heavy breaths between the wet press of lips. Rhett hauls you to the right, his bedroom door slightly open and revealing the messy array of plaid bedspread and old CDs you’ve come to love. But with a house all to yourselves, Rhett can’t help but heat at the idea of enjoying you in every room in the house he’ll one day inherit. Starting with the hallway.

The hard edges of the rough wall paneling dig into your back as Rhett wraps your legs around his hips, thick bulge grinding into you with all the strength he uses atop a bucking bull. The scrape of denim on denim limits the sensation, but leaves you with an anticipation that itches along your skin. Deft fingers slip under the hem of your tshirt, pulling it as high up your chest as possible with your back still to the wall. A high whine leaves your lips, desperate.

There’s a clatter. A light illuminates Rhett’s face from the left.

On the other end of the hallway stand Royal and Cecelia, a workman’s flashlight clenched in Royal’s fist and trained directly on Rhett and his swollen lips.

While you two had been watching the drive-in and sharing cold fries, the engine in the Abbott truck died with no hope of a quick fix, so singing Billy Tillerson gave them a ride. If their youngest son had bothered to check his phone, he would know.

“Goddam’it, Rhett!”

[alan-duarte]

[pm] You're describing a pirate now. You can't be both Al Capone and a pirate. You have to pick an aesthetic, Rhett. Besides didn't we agree on casual Maine inspirations? Or well I suppose I agreed on that.

I don't hate it. It's alright when you tie it up. Maybe I'll get you plaid scrunchies for your birthday.

I didn't recognize the guy. He wore one of those hunting caps too. All I could tell you was that he looked lean, tall and I think about my age. The fucker was far enough to mistake me for a deer so go figure.

It's months old. It's fine. It just hurts when it's cold or humid, I guess.

Or to provoke monoxide intoxication, go figure. I could have made you cake that didn't taste like that, but I think that coming from Emilio, it's worth a thousand cakes from the bakery.

[pm] Aye, but now I got an eyepatch n' a fucked up leg. Cool scars.

Can still ruin yer afterlife, though. Hair'll grow back. You hate it that much, wanna chop it off? I let ya have at the beard, weren't that enough?

Helpful. Yer avoidin' the question.

Yeah, real sweet. Tasted like shit, but... was nice, I guess. He mighta just been tryin' to set the van on fire with all them candles, though.

[delopsia]

Almost Ecstasy | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 4,100 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, age gap relationships (but no ages are explicitly mentioned), cunnilingus, first times together, unprotected sex, Rhett's got a filthy mouth, fluff. No plot, just smut. The title means nothing; I couldn't think of one and wound up naming it after the song I was listening to. Brief Summary: You've finally convinced your old cowboy to have sex with you.

There's a particular coziness to Rhett's bed that you can't find anywhere else; warm and inviting, a Wyoming king mattress that damn near swallows you up just from looking at it. But maybe there's more to it. Could it be the collection of plaid blankets snug around your body like a nest? The soft notes of leather from his chaps hanging on the rack, peppered with an indescribable, warm musk that belongs to the cowboy himself? 

Or maybe it's the way he's hovering over you right now. Chapped lips pressing wet kisses to your newly exposed nipple, loving on it until the bud hardens for him to curl his tongue around. The prickly scruff of his unshaven jaw tickling the sensitive skin there. Only serves to remind you of the way it felt against your chin when he kissed your swollen lips. 

Teeth lightly tug on your nipple, his pointed tongue working the very tip of it.

"Rhett!" You gasp, jolting. 

"Zonin' out on me again, sweetheart?" His abuse only stops long enough for him to tilt his head and wrap his lips around the other before it can begin to feel neglected. "Y' sure you're up to this t'night? We can try again—"

"No," fighting to keep yourself from blurting it out. 

Rhett's eyes lift, soft blues scanning your face, the wrinkles beneath them deepening as he squints. Searching for a shred of proof that you're not ready to take this any further. As if you would ever lie to him about something like this. 

"I want this," you whisper, an idle hand rising to curl through the curls resting at his nape. "I promise." 

That seems to get through to him. 

At the very least, it's got him leaning up to meet your parted mouth with a wet kiss, seeming to smile against you. Has only been a minute since he last nibbled on your bottom lip, that big hand stroking the side of your cheek, but it feels akin to the ones shared after days apart. Drawing the weight from your bones and filling your belly with butterflies. 

"Jus' don't wanna push ya, 's all," he murmurs, eyes seeming to smile as he draws away. 

Then he's dipping down once more. Kissing his way down your chest and across your shivering belly, hot tongue leaving a glistening trail in his wake as if he to help lead him back if he gets too lost in exploring your body. Calloused hands sliding down your naked sides, the perfect kind of rough drag to make your eyes flutter. Roaming down, down, down until his fingers can hook in the thin material of your underwear.

On their own, your hips lift. Thighs squeezing together as he draws the fabric past your knees, suddenly shy despite having been seen like this so many times before. Even more so as he eases his briefs off, discarding them somewhere near yours, the sight of his cock hidden by your leg.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises at the sight of you alone, already bending down to kiss the inside of your knee. Making his way up your thigh too fast and too slow, all at the same dizzying time. Long licks punctuated by chaste pecks, then pausing to suck a darkened mark into the flesh there. Has your hand idly tugging at his hair, unsure if you want more or less.

"Shouldn't let myself stay between your legs too long," he croons, thick lashes cascading his firey gaze, "might never leave." 

You don't think you'd mind that, actually. 

But now he's properly parting your legs to get a sight of you, and suddenly, that's the very last thing on your mind. The bedroom air feels too cold against your sex, but Rhett's hot breath melts it away like ice in a blazing fire. 

It's certainly not the first time you've felt his flattened tongue lick a fat stripe up your core, but it sure makes you jump like it is. Thighs already fluttering, trying to squeeze closed around his head. Unsure of how to react as he slowly draws his tongue up you, groaning all the while. 

His attention vanishes for a fleeting moment, "Fuck, 've missed this little pussy." And then he's back, spit-slicked lips wrapping around your rapidly swelling clit, the pointed tip of his tongue teasing it. Has your hips rising off the bed in an instant, chasing the fire of his sinful mouth. Saliva already beginning to pour down your inner thighs, always so fucking sloppy. 

Your head tilts back, pressing into the pillow. "Rhett," gasping for breath, "Rhett." 

The squeezing of your legs only seems to make him grunt, already pleased with his handiwork. "'s that how y' like it?" Talking directly into your cunt, deep words vibrating up your spine and rattling around your skull. "Me rubbin' you right here?" 

Speaking is already a foreign concept. Too focused on the way his skilled tongue massages against you. Has long since memorized the things that makes you tick. How the soft flicks across it make your hips try to rise off the bed, and the way that rolling the little button between his lips will end in your hand yanking on his hair. 

All too quickly, your silence is betraying you because now he's moving. Parting ways with your throbbing clit in favor of working lower. "Or would you rather..." All of a sudden, he's flattening his tongue against your entrance, teasing the rim, "I pay attention to this cute little hole?"

He's waiting for you to respond, but it's hard to when he's already pushing in. That wet, burning muscle opening you up, slowly working in and out of you, feeling the way your pussy tenses around those simple little motions. 

No, no, you can't remember how to talk at all. 

"Or do you want more than jus' my tongue?" Deep down, you know he's only asking it as a way to venture to the next step, but you're half-convinced that he's learned how to read exactly what's on your mind. Seems to know what you want better than you do yourself. 

Dumb, your head nods. "Uhuh."

It's far too easy to catch yourself regretting that because his mouth is leaving as quickly as it appeared. You can't even be upset with him; he needs to see what he's doing as he reaches into the empty expanse of the bed next to you. But his hand doesn't wrap around the newly opened bottle of lube; no, he bypasses it in favor of grabbing a pillow.

"Lift your hips for me, doll," and at his soft-spoken request, your hips rise. Just high enough for him to slip the soft pillow beneath them, propping you at the slightest incline. 

Such a simple addition, yet its effect might as well be drastic. Thighs seeming a little more sensitive as Rhett's rough palm slides between them, his generously lubed finger nearly making you jump when it rubs against your entrance. A teasing pressure you've felt a couple of times before but never seems to lose that overwhelming newness as it gently presses in.

Your lips part with a silent gasp. 

Oh.

"Yeah?" There's a sparkle in Rhett's eye as he looks up at you, the corner of his lip drawn up. Smug.

Taking his finger is easy; a soft glide, punctuated by the rough drag of his rough fingertip against a bundle of nerves that you forgot you had. It's unfair how he knows exactly where it lies. Gingerly testing it by curling his finger into it adds the slightest bit of pressure as he begins to draw it out, then pushes back in once more. 

The second one is already beginning to nudge into you, a delicate appearance that never progresses beyond that. Bumping into your drooling cunt with every shallow thrust of his hand, frustratingly teasing you with the idea of more.

Your foot swings. Smacking into Rhett's naked hip.

But all that does is earn a laugh out of him. "What's that s'posed to mean?" 

"Want more," you grumble, squirming down onto his hand, chasing the light strokes of his finger. 

He doesn't just give you another; he gives you two. The thick digits stretching you wide, calloused knuckles dragging in a delicious sort of way that has your legs trying to close. Trapping his big, warm hand against your core, still pumping in and out of you as much as the confined space will allow.

"There y' go," Rhett's almost cooing, so amused by the way you clench and squirm from his fingers. "Oughta make y' cum just like this."

Your eyebrows knit together, face scrunching as you shake your head back and forth. No, no, that's not what you want at all! You didn't spend all this time convincing him that he isn't going to break you, just for him to up and change his mind.

"No?" Playing coy, his hand stills, no longer giving you the attention you so desperately crave, and for a moment, your head stops spinning. "What, y'wantin' to cum 'round my cock instead?" 

For a split second, two frenzied thoughts slam into one another, sparking a singular sentence that makes its way to your tongue before you can realize what the words are. "Can you even get it up, old man?" There's a bite to it that surprises your own ears. 

And yet, Rhett's grin deepens, reaching for your hand and guiding it between your legs. Pressing your heated palm right against his heavy, leaking cock. "I know 'm older, but I ain't that much older, sugar." 

Your fingers wrap around him, neck straining to get a good look at what you're doing; how small he makes your hand look as it loosely glides up him. Smearing precum across his tip, watching how he seems to glisten in the golden glow of the bedside lamp. You've felt him before, have had him in your mouth, and felt the way he twitches when he cums down your throat, but this is different. 

Slow, he draws his hand away from your cunt, leaving you to clench hopelessly around air. But it's not for nothing. No, he wraps his still-wet fingers around yours, guiding you to hold him a little tighter. Properly stroking him in such a way that he sucks in a sharp breath.

"I sprout a few gray hairs 'n you treat me like I'm geriatric," he chuckles, and he's got a point, but all it does is draw your eyes back to his hair.

Small strands of silver mottled amongst a sea of deep brown, long enough to curl at the nape of his neck but never growing beyond that. A sort of rugged and unkempt that looks unintentional but is maintained with monthly trims by his own hands. Some speckles of gray even glisten in the stubble that seems to permanently cling to his jaw, no matter how frequently he shaves. 

A clean kind of rough. Only adding to the faint wrinkles beneath his eyes, the ones that deepen when he smiles, like right now. 

The tip of his cock bumps at your core. 

And you damn near jump up the bed. 

"Rhett!" 

"Zonin' out on me, again," punctuates the end of his grumbled sentence by smacking himself against your clit, still wet from his mouth and something more, "'n I'd ask if you're still feelin' alright, but I think y' might bite me."

You're not entirely sure how to even begin confessing that you've spent the past sixty seconds marveling over all the ways he's aged. Quite frankly, you don't even know if he would believe your shameless confession of it. 

Without another thought, your arms rise, quietly wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him close. Shrinking that dreadful gap between your bodies until he's forced to brace his body weight with a forearm. Noses bumping, lips ghosting against one another but never quite closing the gap. But it's only for a fleeting second. The next thing you know, he's tilting his head down, watching as he guides his swollen length to your entrance once more. 

The pressure is something you anticipated. 

The sting was not. 

Your hands are scurrying. Clinging to his bicep, to his shoulder, wherever you can find purchase, nails biting into his skin. His cock looks so much bigger now that he's between your legs, splitting you wide as he sinks into your aching cunt. Oh, why did you think this was a good idea?

"Shh, we'll make it fit," it's not until he's shushing you that you realize you've made a noise, pressing a soft kiss into the corner of your mouth. "Jus' try 'n relax for me. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're not entirely sure how to do that. Fighting for control over your own muscles, urging the tension to slip away and let you soften around him. It'll feel good once you get used to him. You know it will. But as your thighs loosen and your attention moves to your strained back, they tense once more. 

A heavy puff of breath hits your cheek. 

Rhett's mouth never moves, but the indescribable warmth collected behind the blue of his eyes says something else entirely. Urges your focus to his slow inhale. The way his chest expands against yours, holding for a moment, then deflating once more. 

A gradual sort of thing that has you mimicking his next breath. The gentle rise of your breasts as your lungs fill with air, how they bump into his warm skin. For a moment, the room is silent, hanging onto your breaths as if you've forgotten how to let them go. Only for it to slip past your lips, warm against Rhett's jaw. 

Sudden pressure appears against a bundle of nerves within your walls, the very ones his fingers were just tormenting minutes ago. 

He's still moving. Disappearing into your body bit by bit, a shiver jumping up your spine as he fills you. A dull throb replacing the initial sting, growing into a fire that has you clutching at Rhett's biceps for an entirely different reason. Following the quiet guide of his chest, breaths intermingling in a dance of their own making, 

"So fuckin' tight for me," he's hissing through a gasp, forehead wrinkling as his eyes squeeze shut, "shit."

And it shouldn't make you flutter around him the way you do, sent into a frenzy from his words alone. An involuntary massage that makes Rhett's eyes flutter open and closed, letting go of his cock, in favor of bracing himself next to your head, fully bracketing you between those thick forearms. 

You're trying to speak. Sorting for what you want to say, but it's so hard to think when his heavy balls bump against your ass, hips coming flush with your skin. Heavy cock pushing the air from your strained lungs and past your lips. So, so full.

"There y' go," he's prying his eyes open just long enough to get a look at the obscenity between your legs. Where he splits you wide open, still glistening with the handiwork of his mouth and the lube. "God." 

A whimper boils out of your throat, knees knocking into Rhett's bony hips as your legs squeeze around him. Drawing him impossibly close, as if you could ever hope to take another centimeter of him.

"Rhett..." it seems to be the only thing your drooling tongue can produce, your unfocused gaze staring back up at him, can't seem to bring yourself to focus on a particular feature of him. Perfect in every way you can twist the word.

His head dips down, weight shifting to unintentionally push himself deeper into your cunt, careful lips catching yours. A soft, fleeting interlocking of lips, far too chaste for what's going on below. "'s that feel good, sweetheart?" 

You're nodding dumbly, "Uhuh."

God, you should have done this sooner. Already drowning in the way he fills you, the warmth of his body pressed snug against yours.

Oh.

He's already drawing out of you. Slow as can be, hardly pulling out by an inch before sinking back into your throbbing cunt, lubricant squelching sickeningly loud for such a delicate movement. Air catches in your throat, palms squeezing his biceps a little tighter as he does it again.

Rhett's mouth finds its way to the meet of your jaw, sucking lightly on the skin there. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel," he mutters, so close to your ear that his words tickle. 

You don't understand how he even fits. Bulging tip dragging against your walls. Has you hugging him so tight that you reckon you can feel the fat vein that runs along the upperside of him. Your palms slide up his biceps, splaying out against the hard bone of his shoulder blades, covered in thick muscle that ripples under your touch. Strong from close to two years of bull riding, mottled by a raised surgery scar from an injury of the past. The futile attempt to fix the shoulder he tore up shortly after telling his father he was leaving. 

Oh, what you would give to have been there for him.

But you're here now, at least. Legs hitching over his hips, ankles resting against the swell of his ass, clinging as if he could possibly, ever peel himself away from you. Like his chest isn't bumping against yours as he gently fucks into you, slow ins and outs that make your head spin. So big. He's so big.  

"Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?" Speaking against your skin, punctuating his question with a surprising jerk of his hips, yanking the breath right out of your throat. "Bein' awful quiet." 

But he's not giving you much chance to keep that up, leaning back onto his haunches, hands sliding down to settle on either side of your hips. Gripping them tight, drawing you in to meet the thrust of his hips. 

"Ah!" A cry bursts right out of your chest, so sudden that you hardly recognize it was you who made it. Your cunt involuntarily clamps down around him, breaking his rhythm, has those pretty blue eyes rolling to the tune of a surprisingly pitchy whine. 

"There y' go," he hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, yet unable to cover up for the soft noises being carried off his breath, "'s that what y've been wantin'? Some ol' cowboy to fuck y' nice 'n slow?" 

It's all you can do to tilt yourself into him, back arching against the pillow wedged beneath you. He's rubbing right where you want him, but its not enough; it's still not enough. "Rhett," you choke, between a poorly muzzled whimper, "more."

"More?" Those eyebrows are raising, in perfect tune with his growing grin; you're never gonna hear the end of this. "Y' gonna have to be a lil' more specific than that." 

You don't even know what you want, a trembling hand diving to grab hold of the bed sheet, rocking against him the best you can manage. Ears ringing with the lewd clap of his skin against yours, some hellish rhythm that has your heart slamming against your chest like a caged animal. 

"Did y' want it faster?" His hips are quickening, pistoning in and out of you with such vigor that you think your eyes may have crossed, a breathy noise whittling out of your throat. But just as quickly as he started, Rhett slows again, grip on your hips growing so tight you fear it'll bruise, yanking you down to meet him halfway, "harder?"

It punches a squeal right out of you. So loud that your hand clamps over your mouth; the nearest neighbor is a mile down the road, and even then, you're certain they could have heard you. Know exactly what you're doing with this old bull rider that you were warned to stay away from, tangled up in his sheets, with him between your legs, right where he belongs. 

Maybe it's your rose-tinted view of him that's talking; maybe it's something more; all you know is he's taking hold of your wrist and prying your hand away from your mouth. Guiding it down your belly and between your shaking legs, pressing your fingers to your forgotten clit. And again, you're clenching around him, pulling a surprised moan from him. 

"Gonna have this poor little pussy of yours rurnt," his voice growing airy, unruly hair falling into his face as he leans down, eye to eye with you, never once stops talking,"not gonna be satisfied with nothin' else once 'm done with ya."

You had no hope of being happy with anyone else the moment your eyes locked at that rodeo, but that's neither here nor there. All you know is that your fingers are quickening against your clit, and Rhett's growing louder. Can't seem to keep himself quiet; blunt cock head hammering against your delicate nerves, has you fluttering around him in such a way that you both mewl with it. 

His body drops back down, almost smothering you as his head buries into the crook of your neck. "Feel so fuckin' good 'round me—ah!"  

There's a heat growing in your lower belly. A coil rapidly unraveling into a full-body tremor, skin prickling as that heat spreads up your chest and down your thighs until you're burning. Becoming distantly aware of the low voice that chants your name into your ear, bouncing around the inside of your skull until your vision fuzzies.

"Rhett," babbling, damn near incoherent, "Rhett, I'm—"

"So am I," he blurts. And for a second he's prying himself away from you, but your ankles have locked behind him. Refusing to let him draw away from you. Only seeming to pull him in deeper. Hitting something he wasn't before. "Fuck, y' gotta—y' gotta let me pull outta ya."

But you're shaking your head. Unoccupied hand grabbing hold of his bicep. Squeezing as tightly as you can manage. "Stay."

And that is it. Rhett's breath is catching. Hips stuttering as he cums inside of you with a weak cry. Twitching cock bumping against that little bundle of nerves. Your fingers working faster over your clit. Until all of a sudden, your back is arching off the pillow. Cumming around him without warning. 

It's like being plunged underwater. Vision blurry, lungs tight, the noises around you muffling until its a far cry of what it once was. A warm wave washes over you, little bolts of electricity firing down your frenzied nerves. And you're floating, spinning around in an endless depth of something heavy. 

Until your lungs fill with air, and you realize that heaviness is Rhett. His careful mouth kissing at your collar, sweaty hands stroking up and down your naked chest. Sprawled out on top of you like a big ol' blanket.

"There y' are," he murmurs, and for a second, his love-filled eyes almost look like hearts, "thought I knocked ya out, for a second there."

The corner of your lip tilts upward, the best your dreamy mind can manage, "nah."

His eyes roll in that contagious fashion that has you tempted to mirror him. But he's already leaning up to meet your lips before you can begin to try, catching your mouth in a wet, half-hearted attempt at a kiss. 

"Think I finally tuckered ya out," there's no reason for him to be whispering; nobody is around to hear him, and yet, he does it anyway. Like it's some delicate confession that may lose its worth if he says it any louder.

But your defiant hips are already shifting, rolling off the pillow and up against his softened cock, still deep inside of you. Earns you an oversensitive hiss. "I think I could go one more round."

"Well, hang on a damn second," Rhett's shaking his head as he pushes himself up onto his weary forearms, incredulous. Doesn't seem to believe what he's hearing. "I can't get it back up as fast as I used to."

"Why not?" Coy. 

He sighs. Loud. Dramatic. He knows what you're doing, you know what you're doing, and yet neither of you is doing anything about it. "'m old."

Your head cocks to the side. "I thought you didn't like being called old?"

For a second, it's quiet. Neither of you has anything to say as his arm curls beneath your waist. Cinching you up against him as if you're bound to start floating away at any second.

 What's he doing?  

"Fine." 

The room is spinning. 

You're moving. 

Arms flailing, almost slamming your palms against his chest. And now he's beneath you, half-lidded eyes a smidgen darker than they were before, torn between exhaustion and something that reignites the fire in your belly. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, fully settling in his lap now. 

"Do your worst," he taunts, smug. Knows exactly what he's done here. 

Oh, you will. 

[sebsxphia]

I keep seeing vids of guys line dancing on my tiktok and all I can say is- Rhett line dancing. Rhett taking his shirt off while line dancing<3

OMG SUSHI ME TOO?! ARE WE ON THE SAME SIDE OF TIKTOK RN?! 🥹 AND all of these videos are of guys shirtless line dancing! it is sooooooooo rhett coded and if it starts to get a little hot and sweaty out there on the floor? the plaid shirt is becoming unbuttoned and his toned torso, plus tattoo, is on display 🤤💌

[lallyloo]

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[chialinkster2]

"No there can't be another one!"-Link

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