#yeak idk either

[delopsia]

Please | Rhett Abbott X Reader

Word Count: 1,800 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, handjobs, very brief edging. This post was brought to you by cheap wine.

It's not easy breaking Rhett down; it's not easy to dominate a man so rough at the edges, who keeps his power under an iron fist, oh so rarely yielding to another. Getting him to the point that he will squirm and beg is painstaking, but oh, when he does.

It's not that Rhett doesn't let you have your way; if you ask, he gives it to you, but there's a difference between a man laying back and letting you touch him and a man so desperate for your touch that he's in tears.

Your whole plan started when you were at a bar with Rhett, listening to one of your friends talk about how she broke down that stable hand across the bar until he begged her to let him cum. Hadn't thought much about it until it slipped out of Rhett's mouth.

"I'll never understand begging to cum," he said offhandedly, with his lips wrapped halfway around his beer.

Such a tiny comment, one that took only seconds to say and forget about, sparked a morbid curiosity in the back of your head. Just how hard would it be to bring him to that point? Teasing him over and over until he's crying, begging, trembling, all for you, all because of you.

You started out slow; always have to when it comes to Rhett. He's observant to a fault, sensitive to change, always seems to know when something is up. There's a fine line you straddle as you take up extra shifts, agree to go out with your friends more than often, subtly disrupting your active sex life without seeming suspicious. Even the Lord knows Rhett is a stubborn bastard that will only fold when he's desperate.

There's a point where you almost ditch your plans completely; when Rhett's fresh off his last bull ride of the night, and he's quietly kissing up your neck, murmuring about how long it's been, how bad he wants you.

"Darlin'," hardon pressed against the curve of your ass, "what do you say we get out of here, hm?" Hot breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it, nips at it with a sharp tooth.

God, how are you to deny him when he asks you so sweetly? Surely one time couldn't hurt.

Your falter only played into your hand, it seems, because the next morning, Rhett barely lets you leave for work, does this sleepy grabby hands thing as he whines for your attention.

"You're so busy anymore," he pouts in between kisses, "this was the most I've cuddled you in weeks." Begging in the most indirect of ways.

It's hard to stay away. Dragging yourself to work feels like walking into the gates of hell, and you're only able to do it by reminding yourself that your plan is almost ready to execute.

Almost.

Perry unintentionally sets the events of the night into motion.

The rodeo is in some tiny town you've never heard of, consisting of nothing but a gas station, a bank, and a handful of trailer homes that don't look too inhibited. It doesn't even have bleachers, and you're thankful that Rhett's mom packed some lawn chairs. Even more so when Perry plants his ass in your chair and gives you the perfect excuse to settle down in Rhett's lap.

"You best not be creating problems that you don't intend to solve, sweetheart," he murmurs in your ear, low and breathy, but he does nothing to stop the subtle squirming of your ass against his cock. One unintentionally bold move has him twitching against you, a soft little noise leaving his lips.

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for him, he has to get up and get ready for his ride. You don't miss how his eyes linger on you as he walks away like he's hoping you'll follow him. You don't.

Rhett's the one to find you next. All of a sudden, your back is hitting the concrete wall outside the bathrooms, and your senses are clouded by a sweaty, needy cowboy.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He grumbles in between the kisses he's peppering you with, teeth nipping at the juncture of your jaw. A heavy hardness presses against your hip, rubbing incessantly against you.

"I have a little bit of an idea," there was a follow-up to that statement, but Rhett's covering your lips with his own, hungrily licking into your mouth like a man starved. Dizzying, hot, desperate. So commanding that you think he just may get what he wants right here and now, with the whole rodeo as your witness, and yet when you cup him through his jeans, he jumps.

"I need you," he almost whines, right against your lips, "fuck, I need you, sweetheart."

Close, but not close enough. You want to hear him say please, need to hear him beg, first.

His rodeo buddies are an unintentional saving grace, crowing his name as loud as they can, flagging him back down. He's next up to ride, and for a second, you're concerned he may quit bull riding right then and there.

"Go get 'em, cowboy," squeezing him just to get that little gasp out of him.

His second ride is an absolute whirlwind that has your breath in your throat; he is absolutely glued to that bull — sexual frustration always did add to his stubbornness. The moment Rhett is on the other side of the fence, you're disappearing to rejoin Cecelia and the rest of his family. Rhett's usually good about minding around his mother, but as he rounds that corner, you're afraid he may just jump your bones.

Cecelia has plans, things to see, and booths of home goods to visit. She's in the middle of debating with Royal on which cast iron skillet to get. While just a few feet away, her son pants filthy noises into your ear, reddened from incessant nibblings. He's like a teething puppy.

"Baby," he breathes, God, it's almost pitiful what you've done to him, and all you've done is touch him through his jeans.

Fine, you'll give him a hint.

"What's the magic word?"

He stiffens, a little hitch in his breath, and then, "please." Barely audible, carried away with the wind.

Tilting your head to meet his eye, "I didn't hear you."

His adam's apple bobs as he tilts his head to look at his parents, then back at you, "please." It's shaky and uncertain, but it's there.

It's not easy to make a man like Rhett tremble, but oh, is the site below you worth it.

Naked, pale skin shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that glistens as his entire body trembles against the wine-red comforter. His hips squirm as your palm strokes up his twitching shaft, toned stomach contracting as you press a kiss to it.

"Feels good," murmured into the sheets, "fuck, it feels good."

He's close; you know it in the way his jaw slackens, forgoing his efforts to stifle the soft, barely there whines that emanate from the back of his throat. So close to an audible sound, yet a far cry from the sob that falls from his lips when your hand abruptly leaves.

"Please," like a mantra, over and over, "please, baby, please let me cum."

Your fingers trace up and down his pale thighs, watching in earnest at how he squirms at your touch; his body feels like it's on fire, burning hot everywhere your hands roam. The closer your hand draws to his cock, the tighter he's wound, stilling until even his lungs have frozen.

Your palm wraps around him once more, and it's like you've squeezed that halted breath right out of him, deflating as you finally, finally give him the attention he's begging for.

"Please don't stop," he shudders, bites down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to swallow down the pretty whimper that ripples out of him.

It's a noise that rarely graces your ears, loud and unmistakable, something he tries so hard to keep at bay. It's your favorite sound of his, prides you every time you hear it because only you are able to draw such a sound out of your stubborn cowboy. Not anyone else, not the buckle bunnies, and not that girl who's been pursuing him ever since she got back from college, only you.

"Do you want to cum?" You purr, working up a painstakingly slow rhythm that you know isn't enough.

Watery blue eyes flicker open, "please." He's irresistible like this. Needy, writhing against the sheets as you take him apart, brick by brick. His hair is an absolute wreck, stuck to his sweaty forehead and pinkened cheeks. What a sight for sore eyes.

"Darlin', please," weaker this time, hips bucking up into your palm; he's close again.

You're far too happy to give him what he wants. Squeezing just a little tighter, moving just a little faster, flicking your wrist the way you know he likes. His jaw falls open, graces you with even more of those whimpers you so rarely get to hear.

Large fingers wrap around your free hand, fumbling until he can hold it, squeeze it, "I'm—"

His words are lost as his body arches off the bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head just before they can squeeze shut. Thick ropes of hot cum shoot across his toned stomach, coating your hand.

For a moment, the only sound that pierces the silence is the soft squelch of your wet hand around his cock, and then he's coming down. Whimpering softly as your hand continues to work his tender cock, up and down at that same wicked pace until he's squirming away from it. Every breath he takes is shuddering, thighs twitching even as your hand slips off of him.

His hand doesn't let go of yours, even as you reach up to wipe away the stray tear that managed to work its way down his rosy cheek. He sniffles and then, "good fuckin' lord, sweetheart."

There he is.

Rhett only lets go of you for a minute, just long enough to let you fetch a warm cloth to clean up the pearly white mess pooling on his stomach. A process that doesn't take more than a minute or two but is long enough to have him reaching for you the moment you step back through the threshold.

"C'mere," he grumbles, and as soon as his fingers find purchase on your waist, you're being dragged under the covers.

The lightest of trembles still remain, quaking through his body in waves, even as his head comes to settle on your chest, your fingers combing through his tangled hair.

"You alright?" He'd never used his safeword, didn't even mouth it, and yet you're still hesitant to ask.

Rhett squeezes you just a little tighter, tilting his head up to plant a wet kiss on your jaw, "never been better, doll."

There's no doubt he's gonna get you back for this; too stubborn to let go of his competitive steak that easily. He'll probably be between your legs within the hour, giving you a taste of your own medicine until he's confident that he's gained the upper hand.

You'll worry about that later; for now, you're happy to just enjoy the fruits of your efforts.

[rosaniruby]

It's interesting how the second sentence victor starts the story with is "My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics" and while i always focused on the effect it has on, for example, victor; trying to see the life of alphonse is also interesting in the way we can observe his trauma leaking out into his parenting methods and attitude towards his kids and wife.

Like,

-It is said they have a long history with being important and engaged in country's business. And as we see Alphonsa followed it, (and i highly suspect even when he sent victor to college he still expected him to take over this position later on), probably not having much of a choice either. It was all passed down, and even the character of this job is being passed down too. For example, traits fitting this job - responsibilities/brain over feelings. A sense of duty that follows them everywhere. Love isn't unconditional, it's a duty, as well as everything else they do.

It seems like he's just passing down the generational trauma.

Another instances where his bad experiences are being reflected in his behavior towards victor and others is also seen here:

-His dearest friend suddenly disappeared. Turns out he hid because of hurt pride of losing his fortune, simultaneously almost destroying his daughter's life bc of that as well as his own. and Alphonse felt betrayed that this false pride was more important than their friendship = notice how Alphonse assumes the reason for victor's misery is a false pride. And desperatively wants to keep his family in close-circle, so they won't leave each other. And him.

-He looked for the friend for a long time without stopping, but in the end was disappointed. "But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the mean time he hoped to procure some respectable imployment in a merchant’s house. The interval was consequently spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind, that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion." = notice how he always thinks despair is useless and leads to even worse consequences, so, feeling things is BAD.

-After making a big deal out of loving and finding the friend, the moment he actually sees him dead, instead of thinking about that or even mentioning alphonse was sad or smth, theres not a single sentence about alphonse's reaction or even of that friend anymore, instead all attention drifts to beautiful poor Caroline and suddenly it's a story about saving her. Everything got romantized. = Obviously, the romantization of grief and suffering was very ingrained in Victor's whole family. It probably came from Alphonse and his ancestors too.

- It's also said in 1818 ver that alphonse really loved his sister (the mother of elizabeth) and she abandoned him (cut him off).

"for some years my father had very little communication with her."

= Now remember alphonse's later words and lessons about how cutting your family off means you are neglecting yourself and your other duties etc.

So yeak, Idk I just love how Frankenstein is also about generational trauma and people who didn't process their feelings ruining their kids' lifes. (and don't get me started on Caroline.)

[truthundressing]

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