- You and Royal are playing poker, the catch? It isn’t money you’re betting on.
- AKA: A rework of my Luke fic but with this dilf bcs he’s so under appreciated
- Fem!Reader, Ambiguous Features, for the sake of this fic, Royal is a widower though there’s no mention of his family.
- Unoprotected PIV, OralM!Receiving, Fingering, In the mirror.
- GIF by: @frankcastiglione
As you shuffled the deck to deal another round, he tilted his hat back and drawled,
“Wanna make this hand a little more excitin’, darlin’?”
“Oh?” You arched a brow, smirking. “And just how’re you fixin’ to do that?”
He leaned forward, eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Loser takes care of the winner… with their mouth.” He chuckled, voice low and teasing.
You grinned, your pulse quickening. “Deal.”
This was bound to be fun.
⸻
You were certain you’d already won—your flush was damn near unbeatable. You were already picturing Royal on his knees between your thighs, and you bit your lip at the thought.
“So, you gonna lay down that hand, sweetheart?” His rumbling voice snapped you out of your daydream.
Smirking, you spread your cards across the table, proud of your diamonds. You watched him slowly flip over his own hand. Your smile died on your lips.
Four of a kind. Eights.
Your eyes lifted to meet his, and he let out a deep, amused chuckle, a dark hunger simmering there. Your gaze dropped to the table, heart hammering, wondering if you could weasel out of this.
But Royal was in no mood for your games. With one rough finger, he tipped your chin up.
“On your knees, pretty thing,” he rasped. The look he gave you made your belly coil hot.
You sank to the floor, hands already sliding over the bulge in his worn denim. He hissed, the sound making you giggle softly.
“Hmmm,” you hummed, working his jeans open and freeing his cock.
You wrapped your lips around the tip, teasing slow, lazy stripes with your tongue. His low growls made your thighs clench. When you finally pulled back, savoring the sight of him straining for more, his big hand threaded into your hair, tugging your head back so you had no choice but to look up.
“Now, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low as a distant thunderstorm, “this here’s a reward. Act like it.”
Then he pushed your mouth down over him. His free hand guided his cock to your lips, tapping it against your cheek.
“Feel that? Feel how damn hard you make me?”
You tried to answer, but he slid deep into your throat. Gagging softly at the sheer stretch, you hollowed your cheeks and began to bob your head, your hand curling around his thick length. He groaned your name, voice rough as gravel.
“That’s it… knew you could be a good girl,” he growled, the last word rolling off his tongue like a challenge.
Spurred on, you worked faster, your mouth and hand moving together. His fingers dug into your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. His hips met your lips again and again until he finally let out a guttural moan and pulled free, painting your flushed face with his spend.
You looked up at him, breathless and giggling. He gave you a lopsided grin, then bent down to hook an arm under your knees, carrying you toward the washbasin. He set you on the counter, and as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass, he began gently wiping your face clean.
In the reflection, you noticed he was nearly naked—his broad chest rising and falling, his shoulders thick with muscle earned from long days in the saddle. Your gaze roamed up to meet his in the mirror, and he caught your hungry stare.
His big hands circled your waist, tugging you closer until your hips bumped.
“Look in the glass, darlin’,” he drawled in your ear, one calloused hand sliding down into your panties. “See what you do to me?”
You shivered as his fingers found your clit, circling slow and deliberate.
“Oh, my sweet girl… suckin’ my cock got you this wet? Or was it just knowin’ I was watchin’ you?”
Your eyes fluttered shut, but he stopped cold.
“Uh-uh. Eyes open, sweetheart. Look at yourself, moanin’ like a bitch in heat.”
He slipped your shorts down and moved your panties aside, rubbing along your slick folds. You whimpered, pleading for more, for anything.
“How many fingers you want?” he murmured against your temple.
“Two,” you breathed, hardly coherent.
Without another word, he sank them in, watching your face twist with pleasure. He pumped them slow at first, his other hand steadying your hip.
When he felt you clench tight around him, he leaned in to nibble your earlobe.
“You close, sugar?”
You nodded desperately.
He pulled his fingers free, leaving you hanging on the edge.
“Goddammit,” you sobbed, grinding against the counter, but he pinned you still with one strong arm.
“That’s what you get for teasin’ me.”
“Please—please, Royal—I need it. Need you to fuck me,” you babbled, tears stinging your eyes.
He smirked, satisfied.
“Yeah? That’s what you want?”
“Yes,” you gasped, beyond caring.
“Alright then.”
He set you on your feet, bent you over the counter, and pushed his jeans down. You felt the blunt head of him nudge your entrance, and then he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he groaned, sliding almost out before thrusting back in hard enough to jolt you forward.
“This what you were after, huh? Gettin’ split open in front of a mirror like a needy little thing?”
You couldn’t answer—only moan as he pounded into you, your reflection blurring with tears.
“Gonna cum for me?” he rasped, one hand reaching under your shirt to tug at your nipples.
All you could do was nod.
“Cum, baby. Cum all over my cock.”
You shattered around him, muscles clamping down. He kept moving, groaning curses, dragging every last wave out of you.
“One more, darlin’. You got it in you,” he panted, speeding up.
You barely nodded, too far gone.
“Fuck, I’m close—where d’you want it?” he growled, voice fraying.
“Inside,” you whimpered. “Fill me up.”
“Yeah? You want me to breed you, sweet girl?”
“Please…”
That was all it took. He thrust deep, spilling inside you with a strangled groan.
When it was over, he folded over your back, both of you breathing ragged.
After a long moment, you cracked a wobbly smile.
“So… another round of cards?” you teased.
Royal huffed a laugh, straightening up.
“Let’s get you cleaned up first, sugar.”
He picked you up in those big, work-rough hands and carried you to the tub, lowering you in and turning the tap on warm.
“Wait right here,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before heading out for a cloth.
When he came back, he stripped down and joined you in the steaming water. The two of you sank together, content and quiet, and you thanked every star in the sky you’d ever bet on Royal Abbott.
Dandelion Wine: a life with Rhett Abbott, told in parts.
summary: the big day. planning a wedding is more chaotic than not, but things always seem to settle when you’ve got the right people around
warnings: fluffffffff. weddings and wedding planning obv. reader is afab and wears dresses, isn’t described physically other than that. dad of the year royal abbott. reader has a poor relationship with their father.
a/n: it’s here!! the next chapter! this has been so fun to write, and I’m so proud of this chapter (and it’s the longest one yet)!!! I hope that you all enjoy <3
—
Nobody told you that planning a wedding would be this difficult.
You thought it’d be pretty straightforward, you invite friends and family, pick out a dress, and it’s a done deal.
It is so much more frustrating than that.
You and Rhett got the hardest decision out of the way immediately, deciding to hold the wedding on the Abbott ranch. You two only want those closest to you there, anyway, so it made the most sense.
Then came deciding on the food, which was surprisingly easier than you thought it’d be.
You and Rhett had kicked around the idea of getting food catered, maybe from one of those little restaurants in Wabang proper, but a savior came in the form of one Cecelia Abbott.
She was already over the moon when she heard the news that Rhett had proposed (he told her first, of course), but when the opportunity came up to cook up a bunch of food for family and close friends, she jumped at the chance.
And when Cecelia Abbott offers to cook enough food for your wedding, free of charge, you accept that offer.
Despite everything that they’d been through, Rhett still wanted Perry to be his best man.
You were there when Rhett made the offer to him–quiet, casual in the way only the Abbotts can manage.
You could see the way Perry faltered, green eyes cast downward at the wood beneath his feet. He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t feel worthy of such a position, given everything that has happened between the brothers.
Still, he accepted, and if his eyes were a little glassy when you and Rhett left, neither of you mentioned it.
Everything sort of seemed to fall into place after that.
You had a disagreement with Rhett about his choice of wedding attire because no, his work boots are not going to happen.
He protested, arguing that those boots had carried him everywhere, and he wanted them to carry him into this life with you.
The debate was pretty quickly settled when Royal left an envelope on the kitchen table the next morning, labeled “Wedding Gift”, with enough cash in there for Rhett to buy himself a new pair.
Things seemed to smooth out a little bit after that, a brief respite from the constant stress of planning everything yourself.
Giving out RSVPs was easy enough, considering the small group you’d decided to gather, but it was still a little bit of a headache ensuring that everyone actually got an RSVP.
Then came time for dress fittings.
It was a big moment, and of course all the girls came along to help decide what they thought went best. You probably tried on fifty dresses, everyone having something to say about the other forty-nine.
Eventually, Cecelia pulled you aside, told you that you didn’t have to go through the headache of buying a new dress from the only shop in Wabang if you didn’t want to. She just wants you to be happy, however she can make that happen.
She lamented about only raising boys, and while she’s grateful for Amy, she has concerns that she won't be around when she gets married—if she ever does.
You leave the shop empty-handed.
Cecilia comes down from the attic later that same night, a wide box in her arms.
”Come sit for a minute,” she tells you, leading the way into her and Royal’s shared bedroom, and the two of you sit on her bed together, the box set between you.
She opens the lid. It’s her wedding dress from ages ago, when she married Royal.
It’s a beautiful garment; delicate lace and soft whites and something so contemporary while also feeling timeless.
Cecelia doesn’t have a daughter to pass this dress down to, but you’re the next best thing, and she couldn’t be happier to let you wear this on your big day.
Of course you accept.
Things really start to settle in after that, pieces falling into place without you or Rhett really even having to try.
Rhett insists on following things by the book the day of, on not seeing you at all until it’s time. Claims it’s bad luck.
The last thing you want on your day is bad luck.
So, much to his immediate regret, you avoid him all morning, the day of the wedding.
You have to give him credit—he really does try hard to catch glimpses of you before you walk down the aisle.
You manage to steer clear.
The dress that Cecelia gives you fits perfectly, barely needing any taking in. Funny how things work out that way, like it's meant to be.
It was a conversation you’d had months prior, but now that the day’s here, things feel weightier.
You asked Royal to walk you down the aisle. Difficult relationships with your family have left you without that critical part. When you moved to Wabang, you were practically brought in as one of his own, and once you were with Rhett, you were family already, ring or not.
The whole morning is chaotic, hectic in the way only an Abbott event could be.
Someone’s shoes go missing, and are soon found under Amy’s bed ten minutes later; your bouquet seems almost too big, and then you come to learn that it’s stuck to one of your bridesmaids’.
Things start to settle, though. Everyone’s dressed, everything’s in place, and there’s nothing left to do but start.
It goes off, surprisingly, without a hitch.
Everyone’s in their proper places, Amy is the best flower girl in the world (she drops handfuls of petals in the aisle, but it’s enough to get the message across).
Royal walks you down the aisle when it’s your turn, your shoes brushing through freshly-trimmed grass and clusters of white flower petals.
Rhett’s eyes are already shining by the time you’re halfway down.
He looks good. In a proper suit, fitted well. He’s got the new boots on, the one that Royal inconspicuously paid for one day like it was nothing. Of course, he’s too country for a regular tie, so a bolo it is.
You pretend you don’t see his big silver buckle secured to his belt.
When Royal hands you off, it feels like so much more than that. It really does feel like the first step in a new life.
Rhett takes your hands, and you can feel the way they tremble, just a little bit.
You never see Rhett so emotional, but by the time his vows come around, his voice is shaking, eyes shining and wet with tears.
He promises to love you for the rest of his life, to give you himself again and again, even if you never ask for it, because you don’t have to.
Rhett Abbott loves you more than life itself, and this is proof of just that.
You’re handed the rings, and Rhett slides yours on like he’s been waiting his entire life to do just that.
The “I do”s happen so fast it makes your head spin.
Rhett kisses you before the officiant can even finish his sentence.
Everyone cheers, hats are thrown. You and Rhett, hand in hand, walk back down the aisle—now, as one.
There’s a little bit of time between the end of the ceremony and the start of the reception—mostly just enough time to get everyone corralled to the barn on the property, which has been graciously cleaned up by Perry and Royal for this exact night.
You and Rhett sit together in the living room of the Abbott home, just taking a few minutes to be with one another before the toasts and the speeches and everything in between.
He holds your hand as he sits beside you, thumb rubbing absent little circles over your knuckles and the sun-warmed metal of your ring.
”Happy we did this?” He asks you, though it's far too late to have sincere doubts.
Luckily, you have none.
You nod immediately, putting a hand on the back of Rhett’s neck to pull him in for a kiss.
It’s starting to feel a little bit like forever.
The majority of the group has been moved to the reception, so you and Rhett know it’s time to get moving. He helps you up, and leads the way back outside, your hand firmly in his.
There’s an actual, god’s honest applause when you two enter, and you feel a little like a celebrity.
You and Rhett take a seat at your own table, and his hand finds yours immediately once again, like being apart is too much for either of you to handle right now.
The dances are first.
Of course, it’s you and Rhett who start it off.
He keeps your hand in his, leading the way to the space cleared for dancing.
You bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, holding onto him like you can’t imagine being anywhere else.
The song starts—something you and Rhett both decided on months earlier when you both heard it.
“I’m With You” by Vance Joy.
You both knew right away that it’d be your song.
Rhett’s hands are warm on your waist, the side of his head against you, forehead pressed to yours as you sway.
He kisses your cheek, your temple, little brushes of affection that never end.
”Love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low in your ear, lips pressed into your hair.
He loves you so much, it radiates off of him in waves.
Your eyes are wet by the time the song fades out, and Rhett pulls you in for one more kiss, like he has to prove that you’re his.
Everyone already knows it, but he has to send that reminder to them anyways.
The dances aren’t done, yet, though.
Just like he did with walking you down the aisle, Royal dances with you next, taking the handoff from Rhett.
It’s bittersweet, in the best way.
The song is something he picked out—old and heartfelt in a way he does all things.
Your hands shake a little as the two of you move in that slow-dance type of way; you’ve known Royal for years, he really has become like a father to you, which makes this moment that much more emotional.
“Proud of you, kid,” he tells you, voice just low enough that only you can hear.
The dance ends, and Royal hugs you, sturdy and warm.
When you’re back in your seat, it’s Rhett’s turn with Cecelia this time around.
She holds him close, hands cradling either side of his face as he flushes red from whatever she’s just said to him.
The two of them sway to the song—some old country tune, clearly Cecelia’s pick—and you watch, heart full as they dance.
The song ends, and you watch as Rhett gives Cecelia a big kiss on the top of her head, in her hair. From your seat, you can read his lips, see him say “love you, mama”, before they split, Rhett making his way back to your shared table.
His eyes are shining when he sits back down next to you. You take his hand in yours, bringing your joined hands to your lips.
The rest of the reception continues out in a similar fashion.
Food is already set up—cooked by Cecelia the night previously, set out on a long table by a few of the guests and the kids.
You and Rhett get your food first, and everyone else follows.
Around halfway through the meal, Perry stands up, getting everyone’s attention for his best man speech.
He opens with how grateful he is to have you in his life, talks about how he and Rhett have always been there for one another, through thick and thin (even with every fistfight they’ve had in the kitchen of the Abbott home).
He gets a good laugh when he talks about the time Rhett came home late, drunk, waxing poetic to Perry about how much he loves you, how much he wants to ask you to marry him one day.
When Perry had told Rhett that he’d already proposed to you, he apparently was floored, like the concept was something so new and unheard of.
Rhett sinks into his chair beside you, hands covering his face with something akin to embarrassment.
Perry finishes out his speech with a toast to the newlyweds; you and Rhett raise your glasses in solidarity and, with a tip of your glass, you all drink.
After speeches and toasts, the floor opens up to dancing, and while Rhett insists on sitting and finishing his drink, you drag him out to the floor, and he follows, because of course he does.
The two of you dance like idiots, laughing and swapping partners and twirling around with the jubilance of people whose lives truly have been changed by the union.
At some point, Rhett’s boots end up coming off because he “can’t dance good with ‘em on”, and you laugh so hard at it that you nearly fall over.
He’s always there to catch you, though.
A few hours into the festivities, it’s time for cake.
This one was actually purchased from a bakery in Wabang, something you had made special.
It’s a smaller cake, filled to the brim with everything Wyoming—something Rhett had insisted on.
Vanilla bean, huckleberry filling. Frosted lightly and decorated with wildflowers, even the Indian Paintbrush (which you have since come to learn is the state flower).
Rhett cuts you the first piece, and contrary to everything you expected from Rhett up until this point, he doesn’t smash it all over your face.
He feeds you the first bite, and then you do the same with the second bite.
Everyone lingers for a while, chattering amongst themselves as things cool down before the last round of dancing.
You’re able to catch Joy and Martha before they head out—Rose was getting restless, and they just couldn’t manage to be out the whole night.
Joy tucks an envelope into your hands as you say your goodbyes, jokes that you should save it for bail next time Rhett gets a little too rowdy and she has to take him in.
You thank her with a hug, and send the family on their way.
By this point, you and Rhett have had your fair share of drinks—Rhett more than you, and it shows.
The two of you sit at your shared table, tired from dancing and from the excitement of the day, and he’s pawing at you like a puppy desperate for attention. When you giggle and turn to face him, he’s all smiles, leaning into you with that lovesick look on his face.
”Need something?” You tease, grinning.
Rhett nods, resting his head on your shoulder, and you brush hair out of his eyes.
”Love you s’much..” he murmurs, fingers tracing aimless shapes on your arm.
You lean down, press a kiss to the top of his head.
”Can’t b’lieve I get t’ keep you.”
Your heart does a little flip in your chest at the confession, and you give his hand a squeeze.
Marrying Rhett Abbott is the easiest decision you’ll ever make.
—
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thank you so much for reading!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3
Because I keep thinking about Outer Range, and I miss Rhett and the mountains, and maybe because I'm a little crazy, I decided to see where Wabang could be on the Wyoming map.
For preface, I lived on the foothills of the Rocky Mountains for 13 years (0-13yrs old). So I based my guesstimate on the visibility of the mountains and the terrain in the show. Also, I used the measurement tool on google maps, so measurements could be a mile or so off.
Anyway, I lived about 5.69mi (9.15km) from the Rocky Mountains, just noting that for reference. So, I placed Wabang around here somewhere.
I used the town "Elk" (seen on map) as a reference point. It's about 8.70mi (14.00km) from the foothills of the Teton Range. I'm thinking anywhere that it's very flat (anywhere that's a tan color) to be where Wabang could be, if not even on the light green areas where there's not too much texture.
