#this isn't a 'god it's inevitable so no point doing anything about it' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krirebr · 8 months ago

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More Than This 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, all of the Thrombeys being really awful actually, explicit language, references to bad sex, flagrant disregard for HIPAA (actually, just assume that HIPAA doesn't exist in this universe), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh god. I promise that there will be a point when this isn't so sad all the time and that point is soon. But it also isn't today. I'm so sorry. 😬

Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91 who listened to me whine and read countless fuzzy screenshots, and gave great advice and was just all around awesome. And to @stargazingfangirl18 who reached out with encouragement when the words just weren't coming.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom had the complete collection of Harlan’s books. You couldn’t say exactly why that surprised you, but it did. He even had the two poorly-received romance novels Harlan had written under a pseudonym. You hadn’t known the two of them were so close, but then again, you still didn’t really know anything about Ransom.

So that’s what you’d been doing with your days, making your way through Harlan’s complete works. You were currently reading one about an au pair that had been found dead in her charge’s locked nursery when your phone rang.

Your brow furrowed. The list of people who ever contacted you had gotten much shorter since you’d moved to Boston. Steve, Ransom, Linda unfortunately. That was pretty much it. You looked down at your phone to see your mother’s name. Oh.

You’d expected her to reach out in some way since your wedding and had tried very hard not to feel hurt when she hadn’t. Everyone’s lives had moved on. You were the only one stuck. But you still hadn’t had it in you to be the one who called her. You took a deep breath and answered your phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! How are you?”

You kept in your sigh. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said, but she sounded sad. She always sounded so fucking sad. It struck you then, that that’s probably how you’d sound too, in ten or twenty years. Maybe less. Probably a lot less. “It’s so nice to hear your voice honey.”

“Yeah,” you said, and, pathetically, you could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes. You weren’t angry with her. You couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault she was so broken. It was inevitable. For all of you. And your frustration with her didn’t change how much you missed her. Missed home. Missed the way things used to be. “It’s good to hear you too.”

“I know it’s been a while,” she said softly, “but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled. How are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” you said quietly. You paused. You didn’t want to say anything bad or worry anyone, but also it was your mom. “I don’t know. It’s different here. I don’t have anything to do.”

She just chuckled. “Cherish that. It’ll change soon and then you’ll miss this time.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she continued. “And how’s Ransom?”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t want to talk about him. Things had been… better since your panic attack. He came home at a decent hour regularly. You fucked most nights now. But he was still just this looming presence. You didn’t know what to do with him. “He’s fine,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently the wrong answer, judging by the little hum she made. “I know it’s hard at the beginning. When I first married your father–” she cut herself off with a deep breath. “Remember, honey, keeping him happy is your one job now. It’ll get easier the longer you do it.”

A few tears finally broke free and fell down your cheeks. “I don’t– I don’t know him. I don’t know what makes him happy.”

“Then finding out will be a good use of your free time, won’t it?” You glanced at the book beside you, feeling shamed in spite of yourself. “I know it feels so hard, but men are shockingly easy. They just want to be taken care of. That’s all you have to do. Make him dinner. Keep his home warm. Give him heirs. Don’t argue. That’s all. You’re going to be such a good wife to him, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You shrunk down into the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, making yourself as small as possible. You hated this. Hated that she didn’t want more for you. That she’d never tried to give you more. But you were tired, too, of being upset with her for not doing the impossible. What else was she supposed to have done? What else could she give you when she didn’t have anything herself? “Ok,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“Joseph says hello, of course,” she said, and you wanted to laugh. He’d done no such thing. “He’s so proud that you’ve made such a good match. He’ll be happy to hear it’s going well.”

“Mmm,” was all you were able to say. You hated this. You couldn’t do it anymore. “It’s so good to hear from you, mom. But uh, I have to– I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, alright. I miss you so much, sweetheart. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”

You could barely hold the tears back now. “I love you too,” you said, your voice thick. “Bye.” The moment you hung up the phone, the damn broke. You couldn’t stop it. You cried for your mom. You cried for yourself. You cried for the way everything had changed and there was no going back. You cried because this was a day when it felt like no one on earth was on your side. A shaking Lola forced her way into your lap and you held her until you were able to calm down.

Once you’d stopped crying, you looked around. You couldn’t sit still, your mother’s words ringing in your ears. Your eyes locked on the kitchen. That was something you could do. You glanced at the time. If Ransom came home at his new regular time, it would be tight, but you could do it if you made something simple. But not too simple. Something that showed effort. That you were trying.

You got up and looked in the fridge. All those tidy little glass containers full of meals his housekeeper, Carol, made. You’d never felt like they were taunting you before, but now. Now you wanted to smash them. You could do this. You could make him like you. Show him what you were worth. You could make yourself a life better than your mother’s, maybe. Get him on your side.

There weren’t a ton of raw ingredients, but after combing through the entire contents of the fridge and pantry, you found what you’d need for a decent spaghetti. Carol was probably planning it for later in the week. Well, now she wouldn’t have to. You’d do it yourself.

You put some music on and got to work. Losing yourself in the prep. But you’d lost yourself too much maybe, because you were still chopping when Ransom walked in the door.

Lola, of course, rushed to greet him. It still rankled. She didn’t realize that one wrong move would have him kicking her out. His words from that first dinner had never left your mind. But a few days ago, he’d started reaching down to pet her as she danced around him. You didn’t know what either of them were playing at.

He looked at you, now trying to hurry through the rest of your prep, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making dinner,” you said, gesturing to all your work obviously. You looked at the time. You weren’t slow. He was early. Why the fuck was he early? He was ruining all your plans.

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, then shoes. “Carol’s put plenty of meals in the fridge.”

“Because I wanted to!” You said, your knife coming down on the onion under your hand too hard.

The knife hitting the cutting board caught his attention. He looked at what you were doing. “I don’t like onions.”

You threw down the knife more carelessly than you should have. It slid across the cutting board before coming to a stop at the edge of the counter. “Then why were they in the pantry?!”

“How should I know?!” he shouted back, matching your tone. But then he looked at you and stopped. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

You froze. Shit. You hadn’t even thought to check what you looked like. You swiped at your face and turned away. “It’s the onions. Obviously.”

“Your face– that looks like more than onions.” He now stood at the edge of the kitchen, only the island between you.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, then forced yourself to take a breath. “My mom called,” you conceded. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” was all he said for a moment and then, “You and your parents are close then?”

You couldn’t explain why the question irritated you so much. Maybe it was the assumption of homesickness. Or referring to Joseph as your parent. Or just him being here earlier than he was supposed to be, asking you anything. You couldn’t keep the shortness out of your voice when you responded, “My mom. Sometimes.”

You looked around at your progress, the mess you’d made, the onions he didn’t want. So much for keeping him happy. What a stupid idea. You felt done. Over everything. You began cleaning up all the food, scooping it into the garbage.

“What are you doing?”

“I changed my mind! You don’t want any of this anyway. Have one of Carol’s fucking dinners.”

“The fuck is going on with you?!” he shouted as he watched you clean up the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” you repeated, throwing the cutting board into the sink. “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” You stomped over to the staircase.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he called after you.

“No! I’m fine!” You shouted as you took the first few stairs.

“Yeah, you sure seem fucking fine,” he grumbled as he headed to the fridge.

You stopped and glared at him. “Wake me if I’m asleep when you come up. I’m ovulating, so. Tonight’s important.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, flatly. “I got your text.” That was news to you. He'd never responded to it. As you turned to continue up the stairs, you heard him add under his breath, “Although I’m not sure why you feel like you need to be awake for it.”

You stopped and turned around, coming back down a step. “What was that?!”

He turned to you, one of Carol’s glass containers in his hand, and sighed. “Nothing. I’ve had a long day.” You just stared at each other and then he added, “Aren’t you tired of it being such a chore?”

Something crumpled in you at that, but you didn’t want to stop and look at what it was. “Well,” you said. “The sooner I’m pregnant, the sooner it won’t be.” Then you turned and stomped the rest of the way upstairs.

When he woke you later that night, he was already ready to go. You didn’t even take off your pajamas, just slid your shorts down to your calves. He was right. It was a chore.

It was a few days later when he texted you in the middle of the day. You were hiding in the bedroom while Carol cleaned downstairs. She was still mad that you’d wasted the spaghetti ingredients. You were reading in bed with Lola when your phone buzzed beside you.

Big family thing at Harlan’s on Saturday. We’ll be expected.

For some reason, it was the ‘we’ that caught you. It was the first time you’d realized you were a package deal now. If Ransom was invited somewhere, you would accompany him. And vice versa if you were ever invited anywhere. You couldn’t imagine it, with how small your world had gotten.

The rest of his message caught up with you. His family. Linda had reached out multiple times since her awful visit. Every time you spoke to her, you got so small. You worried that prolonged exposure to her might cause you to completely disappear.

Aside from his parents, you’d barely interacted with the rest of his family at the wedding. It would be fine. You would be fine. You’d have to be. They were your family now too. You’d be seeing so much of them. For the rest of your life. You ignored how much your chest tightened at that thought.

Saturday came too soon.

Ransom paced around the bedroom while you both got ready. You’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t dressed. He just kept walking in and out of his closet. And looking at you. You didn’t know if you were doing something wrong. He didn’t say anything, he just couldn’t keep still. The one time you’d asked if he was alright, he’d barked back at you that he was fine, so you hadn’t asked again.

Watching him pace around was making you even more anxious than you already were. So you focused all you could on getting yourself ready. You’d asked Ransom earlier if his family dressed for dinner and he’d just grunted in response. But it felt like a no, so you wore one of your favorite day dresses. It was your favorite color. You hoped it would give you confidence. You did your hair. You put diamond studs in your ears, with a matching tennis bracelet on your wrist. Reasonable heels on your feet. A spritz of perfume on your pulse points. It was the best you could do without more information.

You stood in the middle of the bedroom once you were done. Ransom was still undressed, still moving. “Uh,” you ventured, hesitantly, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Will we have enough time to get there?”

“Who gives a shit?” he growled, thundering back into his closet. A few moments later he came back out, wearing dress slacks and a cream cable-knit sweater. There were holes in it. You could see them clearly from the other side of the room.

“Ransom,” you said softly, oddly feeling like you were speaking to a spooked animal, “don’t you think that sweater’s a little worn?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasped. “Let’s go.” Then he was out of the room and halfway down the stairs, with you scrambling to keep up behind him.

The drive to Harlan’s country estate was mostly silent. You’d tried to turn on the radio at one point, but Ransom just turned it right back off. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his hands were bright red. You wondered if he was hurting himself. You didn’t know why he was so stressed. You were the one about to walk into the lion’s den, the one who had no idea what was waiting for you. It was his family. He’d be fine. You had no idea if you would be. You rested your hands in your lap, clutching them, and settled into the silence.

You knew that Harlan lived quite a ways out of town, but you still got to his home much too quickly. The large mansion loomed over you as Ransom parked his car amongst the others in the drive. He turned off the ignition and then just sat there, staring ahead. Just as you were about to call his name, he slapped the steering wheel harshly with one hand then growled “Let’s go!” to you and got out of the car. Once again, you scrambled after him, but this time, he slowed, slightly, to let you catch up. Once you had, he put a firm hand on the small of your back and ushered you up the path and into the house. You didn’t have time to react to that or try to figure out what on earth he was doing before you were greeted by a woman Ransom snidely called Franny. She responded with a very curt “Hugh” of her own then introduced herself to you as the housekeeper. She took your coats, and then Ransom’s hand was back on you, guiding you into a sitting room.

The entire family was already there, most with drinks in hand, and they all turned to watch you enter. You felt pinned by their gazes. “Well!” Ransom’s uncle Walt called out. “Look who finally decided to show. And just in time for the food, of course!”

Ransom stiffened slightly beside you then smirked. “Well, thank god we’re in time for your fifth drink, Walt. Who’d want to miss that?”

Walt scowled as he got up from his seat, then lumbered across the room, knocking his shoulder into Ransom’s as he passed and jostling you in the process. You started to sway a little, and Ransom’s hand immediately came to your hip to try to steady you. Your gaze flitted down to it, but just as quickly it was gone.

Everyone else began to get up and make their way out of the room. Meg, at least, gave you a small smile and wave, but otherwise, you were mostly ignored. That was, at least, until there were only three people left, Ransom’s parents and Harlan.

Harlan immediately hugged you. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. You look so lovely.” He took a step back to look at you both. “I trust you’re taking good care of each other. This is one of the most important times in your marriage. I hope you’re cherishing it.”

“Sure Grandad,” Ransom snarked, “we’re loving being married to a complete stranger.”

“Ah, now, you’ll only remain strangers if you let that happen.”

You saw Ransom about to open his mouth to say something else, so you jumped in with a quiet, “Thank you, Harlan, we really appreciate that.”

Harlan smiled at you, big and genuine, and then clapped Ransom on the shoulder. “See, my boy,” he said. “I knew she was exactly what you needed!”

Ransom’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond either. Harlan’s kindness had a way of making you feel invisible.

Linda stepped up to you all then. “Darling,” she said, her tone dripping friendliness in a way that made you brace for impact. “I see not even your positive influence can make my son be on time. How disappointing.” She added a little chuckle onto the end, but you took it as the reprimand it was meant to be. You pasted on your most benign smile, but as always, she made you feel about a foot tall. You had no idea how anyone thought you were supposed to make this man do anything. Like he cared about what you thought or wanted. Like you had any power at all.

“Is that why you married me off, mother?” Ransom asked, matching her friendly tone, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were hard. “So there’d be someone to handle me?”

“Well,” she said, a placid smile on her face to match your own, “someone has to. Lord knows you haven’t listened to me in years.”

“And yet,” Ransom said, his tone dropping all friendliness, “you still got me here, didn’t you?”

The look on his face startled you. You’d never seen him this angry. Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. At your touch, his eyes snapped to yours. You weren’t sure exactly what he found there, you felt lost enough that you couldn’t imagine your expression was much help, but after staring at you for what felt like an age, he gave you the smallest nod and relaxed his posture.

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” Harlan called from the doorway.

Linda straightened, finally ending the standoff with her son. “Yes, of course,” she said. Then she looked at you, really looked, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking in all of you and everything you were wearing. She quirked her eyebrow at you and let out a distinctly judgemental little hum. Then that friendly smile was back and she turned away from you. “Oh, Dad, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said as they both left the room.

You stared after her. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong. You’d looked at everyone when you’d arrived and confirmed that you weren’t under or overdressed. She herself was wearing a simple but smart pantsuit. Your clothes were nice, clean, and pressed. You were put together. What could her problem possibly be? You tried to breathe but you could still feel her looking at you and your chest was so tight.

You were brought back to the present by Richard wrapping you in a hug. His lips brushed your cheek as he said, “So nice to see you again, honey.” Then one of his hands on your back traveled lower until it grazed the top of your ass. You couldn’t help the way you jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Ransom shouted next to you. “I’m standing right here!”

Richard pulled away and you took a deep breath at being free of him. What the hell had just happened?

“What?” Richard rounded on his son. “I can’t greet my daughter-in-law? You’re so sensitive, Ransom. A little attention is flattering, isn’t it, honey?”

They were both staring at you. You knew you needed to say something but all you could do in your shock was gape at them.

Ransom wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you close to him. “You’re a fucking creep,” he growled.

Richard just scowled and made his way to the hall. “Disrepectful little shit,” he muttered as he left the room.

It wasn’t until his father was completely gone that Ransom dropped his arm from around you. He looked you right in the eye, his face so serious, as he asked, “Are you ok?” And there was something in his tone, fear maybe, that startled you just as much as Richard’s hand.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, your voice shaking only the slightest bit. When he still didn’t release you from his gaze, you brushed your fingers over his arm. “I’m alright.”

Finally, he nodded but didn’t really relax. “He’s–” he began, but cut himself off. “Just, watch out for him.”

“Ok,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reassuring. Ransom still just stood there. “Are– are you alright?”

That seemed to bring him out of wherever he’d been. “What?” he asked, somewhat sharply. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, turning to the doorway. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Everyone else was already seated at the large dining room table when you came in. Ransom guided you over to the two empty chairs in the middle of one side and pulled yours out for you before seating himself. The catering staff moved around the table setting down plates and pouring wine for everyone. But when the server got to you, they moved past you without pouring anything. In case you were pregnant. Of course. That was fine. You just hoped no one else noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Ransom said from beside you and your stomach dropped. “Is there a reason my wife isn’t being served wine tonight?”

“Ransom,” you whispered, still hoping everyone would just ignore it, but it was too late.

From the other side of the table, Walt piped up liked he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. “Maybe the staff got confused and didn’t realize she’s old enough to drink.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned, proud of himself, as it took every muscle in your body not to shrink down in your seat.

“Great catch, Walt! You’re right. She is still much younger than me. Like I said before, and I’m sure I’ll have to say again, neither of us chose this. I would’ve thought that’d be a concept you’re familiar with, seeing as how you practically begged Harlan not to make you marry Donna.”

“Ransom!” you admonished quietly. Your eyes cut to the willowy blonde sitting next to Walt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You had no doubt that he deserved this, but you had no idea if she did.

Ransom’s eyes cut to you. “You’re right,” he said, before looking back at his aunt and uncle. “I should be nicer to Donna. I’m sure being married to Walt is punishment enough.”

“You little shit!” Walt responded. “I’ll have you know my wife is very happy. Which I’m sure is more than you can say for yours! What’s it been, a month? Two? And she already looks completely miserable.”

You felt all eyes turn to you again and you weren’t sure you’d ever felt more self-conscious in your life. Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t say anything, so you picked up your fork and took a bite of the fish you’d just been served. It didn’t taste like anything.

From your left, Joanie spoke up. “Hey, those first few months of marriage are hard. But so rewarding. I know when Neal and I were first married–”

“Yes, Joanie,” Linda cut in, dryly. “My brother was a saint and we all miss him very much.” She turned back to her son. “There’s no need to get upset, Ransom. We just didn’t want to accidentally serve a pregnant woman alcohol. Better safe than sorry.” She picked up her own fork to begin eating. “Speaking of, if the two of you have an announcement to make, now’d be the perfect time.”

You couldn’t stop your grimace. Ransom stiffened next to you, then answered, “No. No announcement.”

“It’ll come,” Harlan finally joined in from his place at the head of the table. “There’s still plenty of time.”

From the other end of the table, a teenage boy you’d never even met before said, “Maybe not. Maybe she’s barren.” And you felt all the wind go out of you.

“Oh fuck off, you little incel shit!” Ransom shouted.

“She isn’t barren, Jacob,” Linda said, calmly. “We have all her medical records to confirm she’s perfectly fertile.”

You could’ve sworn you blacked out at the moment. You’d known, on some level, that if there was a clause in the contract, it’d come with some sort of confirmation that, at least on your side, it was even possible. But to know that they had your medical records and now were discussing them like you weren’t even here, like you just didn’t matter… You hoped the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You felt a gentle hand land on your knee but it didn’t really register. Nothing did. You didn’t know where the conversation went from there. You couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears. It was all you could do to keep breathing. But you knew they all kept sniping at each other. And you felt the anger radiating off of Ransom the entire time.

The clinking of plates and scraping of chairs finally got you out of your stupor as the family got out of their chairs and staff started clearing the dishes. You looked over at Ransom, for help or support maybe, you didn’t really know. But he also looked like he’d gone somewhere else. He could barely meet your gaze.

You were still numb as people made their way back to the original sitting room. You just needed to make it through the rest of the evening. You could do that. Just as you had gotten to the other room, Harlan stopped Ransom with a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like a word in private with you, my boy.”

Ransom looked at you for a moment, then sighed and said softly, “I’ll be right back,” before following his grandfather deeper into the house.

And then you were alone. You were at a loss as to what to do with yourself, so you went back into the sitting room and settled on a vacant couch. Not everyone had migrated there. There were only a few people in the room now. Jacob sat in the corner, hunched over his phone, but every once in a while he would look up, catch your eye, and smirk at you. It had you sliding further back in your seat. His mother was no help. Donna was slumped over in an armchair, still cradling half a glass of wine. Meg had already shrugged on her coat, giving a hurried wave as she moved through the room. And Richard–

Richard sat down next to you. You slid down the couch as subtly as you could. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Alarm bells went off through your whole body. You saw Ransom’s face again, from earlier. How angry, yes, but more than that ashamed and unsurprised. How he’d looked at you. How he’d asked if you were ok. How it’d felt urgent. “It was a busy day,” you gritted out, trying to think of any way to get yourself out of this room.

“Ransom is a very lucky man,” he said, inching closer, his arm draped over the back of the couch, “to have such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “That’s very sweet.” You looked around helplessly. As he opened his mouth to say something else, you stood up. “I’m going to go get myself some water. Do you need anything?” you asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No? Ok, I’ll be right back.” And then you fled.

You hurried down the hall toward the kitchen but slowed when you heard voices. You picked out Joanie first, then Linda. You slowed to a stop right outside the kitchen door, trying to weigh just how much you wanted that water. Was it worth facing them? Were they any better than Richard?

“Okay,” Joanie said, “but what do you really think about her?” Your stomach dropped. You tried to reassure yourself that they could be talking about anything, anyone. You pressed closer to the door as quietly as you could.

“I think,” Linda said, then paused while you heard the clink of glassware, “that she will serve her purpose just fine.”

Joanie laughed. “I just have a hard time picturing Ransom with such a mouse.” You closed your eyes. You should go right now. Nothing they had to say would be of any help to you. But, despite your best interests, you were rooted to the spot.

“She definitely wasn’t chosen for her personality, but Ransom understands how good this will be for the whole family. How important it is”

“Oh, of course,” Joanie simpered, and you just hated both of these women so much at that moment, maybe more than you’d ever hated anyone. “I just feel so bad for him. He must be so bored.”

“Listen, I told him that he just needs to get her pregnant, and then he can do whatever he needs to do. Once he has an heir. As long as he’s discreet, of course.”

Joanie cackled. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re so bad!”

“He might already be behind on that one, anyway,” Linda said, and you could practically hear her smirk. But you didn’t know what she could possibly be talking about. She didn’t know you and there was no one– unless. Oh god.

“Well.” Linda continued. “You know, she and her step-brother are very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Joanie asked, fucking eagerly.

“Mhmm,” Linda hummed. “Did you not see them at the wedding? They were practically hanging all over each other. He had to be kicked out of her dressing room.”

“No! Does Ransom know?”

“Well, I haven’t told him yet. You know how he gets. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You know what they call that on the internet, don’t you?”

Linda sighed. “You know that I don’t, Joanie.”

“Stepcest!” Joanie said gleefully.

And that was it. That was all you could do. This fucking family. How– Why? You’d never done anything. You hadn’t even chosen to be here! And they still took so much joy in cutting you down. And if Linda managed to get to Ransom and tell him… Who knows what he’d do?

You moved as quietly as you could back down the hall, swiping at the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, hoping not to call any attention to yourself, when shouts suddenly erupted from the other side of the house. As soon as you recognized one of the raised voices as Ransom’s, you began to hurry in that direction.

You hadn’t made it very far before he came barreling out in your direction. “Get your coat,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue, more than ready to get out of there yourself. You followed him to the closet, and then once you both had your coats, out the door. The crisp night air was bracing after feeling suffocated in that house for hours. Neither of you said anything as you got into Ransom’s car.

It wasn’t until you were fully off Harlan’s property that you felt brave enough to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Sure,” he said.

“What– What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Just his same old bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I–” you had no idea what to say. “Is it always like that?” You felt foolish as soon as you asked. Of course, it was. You could tell.

“Oh, no,” he said, and his tone was so cold, so detached, that you couldn’t help but stare. This felt like a brand new Ransom. “Sometimes it’s really bad.”

You didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea what to do with this sudden urge to comfort him, this man who had so much power over you, this man you couldn’t even say you liked most days. Especially after what you’d just been through. So you kept your hands in your lap and stared out the window.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprised you by being the one to break it. “So. I bet your family looks like the fucking Waltons compared to that.”

You thought of dinner with your own family. Joseph crowing loudly about his successes. Your mother cowering the moment any small thing went wrong. Steve getting into screaming matches with his father. You feeling invisible, on a good day. “No,” you said, hollowly. “Not really.” He turned his head sharply to look at you and you held his gaze for just a moment before he had to look back at the road. There was one large difference though. You’d always had Steve. As far as you could tell, Ransom didn’t have anyone.

That thought led you back to what you’d heard right before you’d left and your anxiety returned. “Steve and I–” you blurted out. “He’s my brother.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I am aware of that.”

You shook your head. “No, I just– I know we aren’t related biologically, but– Nothing’s ever happened between us. Not ever. He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck?!” he called out as he made a left turn more sharply than necessary. “Why would you–” he cut himself off. “Did someone say something to you?”

You ignored his question. “I just–” you said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the drive.

When you got back to his house, Ransom went straight upstairs while you let Lola out one last time before bed. When you joined him in the bedroom once that was done, he was already in bed. “Listen,” he said softly, “I know you’re probably even more anxious about this whole thing after– I just, I’m really fucking tired. Is it ok if we don’t– If we just go to bed?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. You were just as tired and didn’t think you could deal with all that after everything else that had happened that day. You quickly went through your nighttime routine in the bathroom. When you came back out once you’d finished, you found Ransom still awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Lola was curled up at his side and he absently scratched her belly. You climbed into bed and turned the lamp off, turning onto your side. You felt him move behind you, scooting closer, not enough that you were touching at all, but you could feel his body heat. It was oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come fast, ready for this day to be over.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #fanfiction #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #reader insert #arranged marriage au #heavy angst #more than this #kris wrote something

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kitasgloves · 5 months ago

Note

I saw in your request rules page that you write male reader! Could you write a Dazai x male reader smut, with some brat taming (of Dazai), maybe with the reader topping too if that’s not too much to ask?

I almost never see male reader as an option on blogs like this so I’m lowkey really excited, as a male reader myself who never has anything to read 😅

Brat Season

— ♬ bottom! Dazai Osamu x top! Reader, NSFW, male reader, sexually explicit content, brat-taming, oral receiving, facefucking, hair pulling, face slapping, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, absolute filth, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 3.5k words, no beta

— ♬ omg I agree with you fr, it's so rare to find some male reader content here but I'm happy to deliver and I had fun writing this, hope you enjoyyyy <3

It's a known fact that Dazai Osamu can get pretty annoying. Kunikida Doppo can corroborate how much he has to deal with that lazy bandage-wasting machine. Unfortunately, it's a prominent trait one must witness if you are somewhat associated with the brunette. Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai's former partner, has recalled countless moments where he swears a vein was about to burst to experience how annoying Dazai was. Others might dismiss Dazai's annoying antics or even laugh at them. But it takes a resilient individual to tolerate Dazai Osamu.

It wasn't clear how you and Dazai met but you have impressed everyone in Dazai's circle with how infinitely patient you seemed. During your dating stage, Dazai had tried multiple times to persuade you to do double suicide with him, he still does to this day, but you always shook your head and smiled at him. What fascinated the brunette about you was you weren't hot-headed. Admittedly, Dazai was drawn to men whom he can easily piss off and be entertained with, however, you didn't possess that quality.

You were patient, gentle, and kindhearted. It made Dazai suspicious of how genuine you were with him. The dates were filled with jokes and laughter, he liked the way you smiled and laughed at whatever he said. But once the growing affection becomes inevitable, Dazai becomes wary. He had trouble with vulnerability that's why he comes across as fraudulate sometimes. It's like he's often wearing a façade. He couldn't fathom how, but you saw through him.

And it terrifies Dazai. He knows he's imperfect and can get ugly. He's aware of his flaws and God knows how he's full of it. What if you're disgusted? What if you turn away? What if...what if you leave him? But when you grabbed his hand one night and kissed his hand down his bandaged arm, he crumbles. When you slowly undressed him and kissed all the parts of him that he found distasteful, his heart began to beat differently. You unraveled Dazai and tenderly accepted him.

The brunette behaved differently depending on who was there. With co-workers, he's lazy and comedic. With enemies, he's calm and calculative, and with you, he's shamelessly bratty. On the surface, it seemed like Dazai was the dominant one in the relationship with how you often obey his requests to the point that you're letting him walk all over you.

"You should teach that idiot a lesson"

Kunikida once said to you. Dazai isn't heartless, you're aware that he wasn't taking advantage of you or using you for his gain. He's just being typically annoying, it would be a lie if you didn't find it charming. Your boyfriend would talk your ear off, scam you into buying food for him, or trick you into doing a favor. He'd lovingly call you his 'loyal dog', even if it sounded a bit insulting, you still let him do whatever he wanted.

But everybody has limits, right?

Today wasn't going well for you. It began in the morning with Dazai oversleeping in your shared bed, you realize you're running late for work. You rushed into the bathroom and the water was fucking freezing, did Dazai use up all the warm water last night? You rush to work with no coffee. Your boss decided to give you a stack of paperwork due today. Later at lunch, your uniform gets stained with food. Your co-workers keep borrowing shit from you and not returning them. The paperwork you rushed to finish turned out to be incorrect, your boss wasn't pleased and commanded you to fix the paperwork by tomorrow. You're traveling home with a massive headache of how shitty the day has been.

"I'm home"

You sluggishly closed the door to your apartment. Dazai was resting on the couch flipping through his favorite book. You were starving and exhausted as you plopped right beside your boyfriend.

"I cooked dinner for you, babe!"

Dazai beamed enthusiastically at you. There was an involuntary shiver from you, the last time Dazai cooked dinner, your apartment almost caught fire. Nonetheless, you sat with your boyfriend at the table and stared at the abomination that he called dinner. Two bites in and you decided to order takeout. Now, you were busy fixing the paperwork you accidentally fucked up earlier at work. You wanted to get everything done and get to bed as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow might be even better.

You were too busy scanning the errors of your paperwork when Dazai unceremoniously crawled onto your lap like a cat. He grinned at you while you gave him a tired look.

"Can you please move out of the way, babe? I'm trying to finish some work"

The brunette pouts and slowly gets off your lap, he stands next to your chair as you resume your work. He decides to rub his hands on your shoulders from behind you, obviously being suggestive with his touching. But you were not in the mood.

"Dazai, stop that"

"Aw, am I distracting you?"

"Yes, I'm sorry but I'm not in the mood tonight"

Your boyfriend silently huffs and crosses his arms. He lingers around you as he formulates a plan to get you to pay attention to him. From the corner of your eye, you spot Dazai creeping in and stealing the paper from your hands. You bite back a groan as he scans the contents of the paper.

"Now, what does this paperwork have that I don't?"

"Osamu, give that back"

"What is it about this sheet of paper that keeps hogging all of my boyfriend's attention?"

Dazai raised a brow and looked at the paper and then at you. A hand runs down from your haggard face as you sternly look at your boyfriend.

"Come on, no games tonight babe, I need to get this done—"

You stared in horror as Dazai decided to rip the paper in half. A cunning smirk was on his face as he discarded the torn paperwork on the floor. You were motionless. Your boyfriend waltzes beside your table picks up the rest of the paperwork and trashes it on the floor before stomping his foot on it.

"Osamu, what the fuck!"

Dazai laughs mischievously as he takes in your distraught expression. He was expecting you to cry or yell at him, either reaction would mean he would get your attention anyway. But what he was not anticipating was for you to stand up and grab him by the hair. He yelps.

"Ow! What are you—"

"What the fuck was that for?"

Your voice was deeper and indicated how serious the situation was. Dazai blinks at you, and the cunning look on his face vanishes.

"You weren't paying attention to me and—"

"Can't you see I was busy? Shit, I need all of that done by tomorrow! My boss is going to kill me!"

"So what?"

Your eye twitches as your grip on Dazai's hair tightens, and your boyfriend winces.

"So what? Unbelievable. You couldn't wait for a fucking hour and decide to be a...a..."

The way your eyebrows furrowed and your gaze darkened at him made Dazai involuntary gulp. This was a new look from you. He has never seen you so...angry before. And holy fuck was it a massive turn-on for him. A sultry smirk slowly appears on his lips.

"A what?"

"Like a fucking brat"

A vein almost pops from your brain when you hear Dazai giggling. God, he was intentionally testing your patience, was he? You grit your teeth as you force your boyfriend down to his knees. He stumbles down on the floor with a quiet yelp as you sit back on your chair. Dazai watches you undo your tie and grab both of his limber wrists. You tried both of his wrists together and grabbed his hair again. You leaned close to stare at him right in the eye.

"So, you want to be a brat tonight?"

"If it gets your undivided attention, why not?"

He was challenging you. There was a bitter chuckle from you as you pulled on his hair tighter. God, Kunikida was right, you need to teach Dazai a lesson. Your boyfriend watched with glimmering eyes as you began to undo your belt and pulled them down along with your boxers. His mouth begins to salivate at the sight of your slowly hardening cock in front of him. Dazai instinctively tries to dive his face onto your lap but you stop him by slapping him hard on the face.

Dazai was stunned by the slap. You've never hit him before and he believed you never had the heart to. He slowly turns his face to look up at you with a reddening cheek and wide eyes.

"You think you deserve my cock, huh?"

You scoffed down at him. Your boyfriend swallows and stumbles to find the words to reply. You grabbed his jaw and gave him a condescending smile.

"What makes you think you can suck my cock and get away with it?"

Holy shit. Dazai's heart skipped several beats as he listened to your gruff voice. He was shamelessly turned on with this new side of you that he's already hard in his pants.

"...I'll be good, I promise"

"Bullshit"

"Please, [Name]"

You rolled your eyes when Dazai batted his lashes at you. Eventually, you sighed down at him and harshly tugged down his bottom lip before lining the tip of your dick with his mouth. His dark brown orbs shine with delight.

"Stay still"

You grunted down at him. Your boyfriend eagerly opens his mouth as you slipped your cock inside. You bit your lip when Dazai moaned around your length, his eyes merely rolling back at the taste of your cock in his mouth. He was ready to bob his head when you suddenly grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down on your dick.

"Oh fuck"

You moaned when the tip of your cock reaches the back of the brunette's throat. Dazai's breath stutters as he struggles not to choke on your length. You didn't give him time to adjust as you started grabbing his hair and thrusting your dick in and out of his mouth. Dazai lets out a choked moan as tears begin to rapidly form in his eyes. His hands balled into fists as your tie restrained him from touching you.

"Shit, that's it"

You start to facefuck Dazai at a faster pace. The brunette tries to breathe through his nostrils but every thrust is knocking the air out of his lungs. Saliva was seeping out the corners of your boyfriend's mouth at it coats your length. You watched amusingly at Dazai staring up at you with tears rolling down his cheeks, the way he looked pathetic on his knees with your cock sliding in and out of his mouth drew you close to your release.

"Hah—fuck, I'm close—"

Dazai watched you panting. He struggles to keep his vision straight, but the lack of air and the taste of your cock on his tongue overwhelmed him so much. Every time the tip hits the back of his throat, it makes his cock throb in his pants. Fuck, he wants to feel you inside of him.

"Hey brat"

You breathlessly called out to him. He blinks up at you as a few more tears slide down his cheeks. You were facefucking him intensely that snot was slowly running down his nose and his immense spit was trailing from his chin down to his neck. You were fucking your cock so deep in him that his nose was constantly brushing your pubic hair.

"I'm close, you better swallow every drop"

There was a strangled sob from Dazai as the pace of your thrusts went even faster at the approach of your orgasm. You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows in concentration as you used Dazai's mouth as a fleshlight.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

The brunette goes cross-eyed when your seed floods his mouth. He never felt you cum this much that he's afraid that he won't be able to swallow everything. You went still with your cock in Dazai's mouth while your head was thrown back when you came. After your orgasm passed, you pulled out and watched Dazai cough profusely. Excess cum spits out of his mouth and down to the floor. Your boyfriend continued to cough and gasp for air when you suddenly slapped him on the cheek again.

"Didn't I tell you to swallow everything?"

Dazai only pathetically looks up at you and wheezes. You pushed his head down to the floor.

"Lick everything off and make sure you won't miss a drop"

A dark smile spreads on your face when your boyfriend whimpers and weakly cleans the cum off the floor with his tongue. While he was busy with his face on the floor, you reached for one of the drawers and pulled out a bottle of lube. The sound of you popping the lid off catches Dazai's attention.

"Finally"

"Oh? You think I'm going to fuck you now? You haven't learned your lesson yet, brat"

With that, you close the lid and place it on top of your desk. Dazai pouts. You stood up and sat on the bed, you patted the space beside you, commanding him to crawl over there. The brunette stumbles and makes his way beside you. Dazai yelped when you effortlessly manhandled him and flipped him to his stomach, his hands were still tied. He shivers when he feels you unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off his bandaged legs. You laughed at the sight of his red and hardened cock.

"Wow, you like it when I facefuck you, huh?"

Dazai grumbles and tries to hide his face against one of the pillows. Your hands trailed from his back down his ass making him arch his back. You hummed when your palm rests on one of his buttcheek.

"Count"

"What—"

SLAP!

A resonating slap echoed in the room as Dazai recoiled. Did you just fucking spank him? That has never happened before. He looked back at you.

"What the fuck was—"

"I said, count, brat"

It's hilarious how Dazai immediately went silent. You drew back your hand and gave his ass another smack, and he flinches.

"One—"

He breathes out. The stinging sensation of your hand slapping his asscheek sent a delightful shiver down his spine. Dazai bites back a moan when you slapped his ass again.

"Two"

"Count louder, slut"

SLAP!

"Three!"

The brunette's voice sounded strained. Fuck, his asscheek hurt, but it hurts good. Plus, the way your hair look disheveled, your face stern and sweaty, and your hand spanking his ass made you look so dominating that it makes him impossibly harder.

SLAP!

"Fo-four! Fuck, I need you [Name]—"

SLAP!

"Five! Shit! [Name] please!"

SLAP!

You didn't say a word as you continued to spank him. His asscheek was completely red. Tears were forming in Dazai's eyes again.

"[Name]—"

"Did I tell you to stop counting?"

"No—"

SLAP!

"Six! Fuck!"

Dazai whines and you watch in wicked amusement when a stray tear escapes the corner of his eye.

SLAP!

"Se-seven!"

SLAP!

"Eight!"

"That's it, keep going, brat"

Your boyfriend begins to sniff. He hated how he was deeply turned on by how mean you are. Maybe he should continue being a brat more—

SLAP!

"Nine! Hghh, shit"

Dazai's asscheek begins to feel sore, but there's no way he's going to yield. He has to stay strong even if you're about to give him a hundred spanks until his skin bleeds.

SLAP!

"Ten!"

Your hand caressed your boyfriend's red asscheek. You see Dazai's shoulder shaking as he buries his face against the pillow. You sneakily went to fetch the lube on the desk and coated your dick with lube. You grabbed both of your boyfriend's hips to flip him over to his back. You smiled at the pitiful expression on his face. Dazai's eyes were glassy and there were dry tear stains on his cheeks. His hair was tangled as sweat decorated his skin.

"You look wonderfully pathetic"

"Th—Thanks, glad you like it"

Dazai's chuckle was cut short when you wrapped a hand around his bandaged neck. He gasps and looks at you owlishly. He can feel your lubed cock teasing his entrance and it makes him whimper.

"Poor baby, do you want my cock inside of you?"

Your boyfriend nods frantically but you squeeze the sides of his neck harder.

"What makes a brat like you deserving of my cock?"

"...I—I've been a good—!"

"Oh really? You're going to be a good boy now?"

"Yes! Fuck, please"

When the tip of your cock slowly presses inside of Dazai, he almost lets out a cry of joy. Gradually, you slide your cock inside of your boyfriend until you're fully sheathed within him. With your hand still squeezing his neck, Dazai lets out a shuddered breath. You start a slow torturous pace, feeling his walls clenching around your length. Fuck, he felt so warm and tight as if you haven't been inside of him countless times before.

"Fuck—hah—please go faster"

"Don't tell me what to do, brat"

You spat at him and he whines. Dazai shuts his eyes as he endures the slow pace. Eventually, you started driving your cock deep into him, hitting that special spot that makes him moan wantonly. Your boyfriend throws his head back when you begin to thrust in him slowly and deeply as he wraps his legs around your waist.

"Oh fuck—"

Your hand was squeezing his neck harder as your thrusts knocked out every breath from his lungs. You gazed down at your boyfriend trying to keep his eyes from rolling back. You bit your lip and wrapped your free hand around his poor hard cock. You gave it a few languid strokes and Dazai arches his back with a louder moan.

"Don't cum until I tell you to, slut"

You warned him and he goes crossed-eyed. You stop stroking his cock and he whimpers at the loss. You decide to hook one of his bandaged legs over your shoulder before slamming deep into him. Your boyfriend yelps as you start a faster pace. The sound of your hips slapping against his ass echoed in the room. Dazai can feel your cock sliding in and out of his ass swiftly, the tip kissing the deepest part inside of him that makes his eyes roll back and his toes curl.

"Come on, why are you quiet now? Lemme hear how much you love my cock inside of you"

You cooed. Dazai's head lolled forward, watching you fuck your cock deep inside of him as his pathetic dick slapped against his abdomen with each hard thrust.

"Hghh—fuck! You feel so fucking good—hah—"

You smile and reach to brush the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. The sound of Dazai gasping and moaning, the sight of your cock being swallowed greedily by his hole, the feeling of your cock abusing that perfect spot inside of him, and the smell of sex in the air all drove you to the edge as you can feel your orgasm approaching again.

"Hah—[Name]—oh, ah—fuck!"

Dazai couldn't even form a coherent sentence with how you were pounding into him. Fuck, he wants to cum. He needs to cum. Your boyfriend's lip wobbles as he looks up at you through his wet lashes.

"Can I—shit—Please, let me cum—"

"Fucking wait, brat. I'm close"

You gritted your teeth as you began to desperately reach your release. You begin to brutally thrust into him making his jaw slack as his eyes blissfully rolled back. Dazai is convinced he's going to cum with the way you're using him like he's some sort of fuck toy, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. As your peak becomes unbearably close, you wrap a hand around your boyfriend's throat again to bring his face close before slamming your lips against his. Your hips begin to stutter and by the third brutal thrust, your seed spills inside of him.

Dazai moans into the kiss as he feels your warm cum decorating his walls. However, you didn't pull away as you reached for Dazai's cock and begin to stroke it briskly.

"Oh fuckkkk—"

The brunette moans as he bucks his hips against your hand. It didn't take long until Dazai was convulsing underneath you as his cum coats both your hand and his abdomen. Gently, you start to pull out before collapsing next to your boyfriend on the bed. There was a long period where you both tried to catch your breath. Dazai chuckles.

"That was fucking mindblowing"

Your face flushed as you ran a hand down your sweaty face. As you processed the entire thing, you couldn't help but smile. Who knew losing your temper while taming your bratty boyfriend could lead to mindblowing sex? Dazai is convinced that everything is sweet and dandy until he turns his face to see you scowling at him, and his smile drops.

"You fucking ruined my paperwork"

"Uhh...round two?"

"No, you're getting punished, for real"

"And what? You're going to spank me one hundred times?"

"No, you're getting no cuddles and kisses for a week"

"WHAT"

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #— ♬ signed by; kitasgloves #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai osamu #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader

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shokosbunny · 28 days ago

Text

CRAVE - chapter seven

nav 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

masterlist 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ • previous 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

chapter warnings: use of profanity, mild argument, brief mentions of grooming/toxicity

the subsequent solitary walk of shame back to your apartment provides the perfect environment for you to think about what exactly you were going to say to naoya.

you’ve faced the facts. you don't love him anymore. the man you fell in love with is gone. in fact, there's a high chance that he never even existed, and naoya put up a good facade long enough for you to get attached, until he was sure you loved him too much to leave.

you look back on your entire relationship with the man. you had met him at megumi’s 15th birthday party. he said all the right things, telling you how you were much smarter, more mature than other girls your age. he gave all the right signals, and by the time you started officially dating on your 18th birthday, you were madly in love.

no one approved. not your friends, not your parents. hell, even megumi’s parents, toji and mina fushiguro, who had known you since middle school, told - no - begged you not to waste your youth on a man like naoya, and that if you didn't see it now, you'd learn when it was too late.

it's like a veil has been lifted off your eyes. you realise that it wasn't naoya’s age that made him mature. in all other aspects, he was like a pubescent boy, petulant, selfish and disrespectful.

but yuta… god. you don't think he has a single selfish bone in his body.

you know what you have to do.

“we’re not breaking up,” naoya says with certainty, looking at you as if you're stupid, high, concussed or all three.

“naoya,” you say placatingly, as if negotiating with a toddler. “we aren't compatible anymore. the signs have been there-”

“goddamnit, y/n, i said we are not breaking up!” naoya snaps. he always yells when he doesn't get his way. but again, so do you.

“don't raise your fucking voice at me!” you retort, before he can even finish his sentence.

“i don't want you anymore, i know damn well why you're so secretive and distant, and you know this isn't going anywhere, so why are you trying so hard to grasp onto this…concept of a relationship?!”

“because- this- you don't know what you're saying, baby,” is his response. he’s choosing to go the consolatory route in a last ditch effort to delay the inevitable.

“this is just a rough patch. we can get through this, we’ve done it before, yeah?”

you shake your head, determined not to let your resolve crumble. “no, naoya. come on. we’ve only been together a year, and we argue on and off like we're on the cusp of a divorce. you cheated on me. i...may have cheated on you. this-”

“wait,” he interrupts. “you what?”

damn your honesty.

“yeah,” you breathe out. the relationship is basically over, so you see no point in hiding it.

“when? it was your birthday, right? that's why you got so-” he begins, and you tune him out on his rant as he paces the length of your bedroom.

for all his flaws, naoya is impeccably sharp. he can practically sense your focus shifting before it even fully happens, and snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“hey,” he says. “don't do that, you know it pisses me off.”

“sorry,” you respond, more as a formality than anything else. “but, yeah. it's best if we don't continue this. you're better off with a girl…well, your age.”

naoya scoffs. “you don't say. last time i mess with a fickle brat.”

“last time i mess with a pedophile,” comes your grumbled retort.

the ordeal is more peaceful than you anticipated, and in mere minutes, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

next 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

tags: @toniseweje @tsukuhoe @itsafairytalekay @ayla-1605 @moncher-ire @rikaroses @starrysho @blu3-l0v3r @number0netrash @zayuriluvs @susiekern @mikamii25 @vorfreudevortex @q2uq2u @ermbehindyou @mayyhaps @nomoreilovesyou @good-mourning0 @revolvinggeto @4crewz

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thesiltverses · 2 months ago

Note

On this page, I've noticed, you've responded to a few asks, that essentially boil down to, "if someone did this, could they escape the cruelties of the world that exist in TSV?" And of what I've read, you've answered with what ultimately amounts to: They could try, but some other aspect of the world would eventually end up consuming it/nullify it/make it unrealistic to maintain in some way.

There have been other similar questions, but what especially spurred my thoughts on this was an ask you answered a bit ago that was asking if there were any in-universe equivalents to communism/socialism.

And you can of course correct me if I'm interpreting anything wrong here. I'm simplifying, but I've been genuinely mulling this over in my head for a bit now.

If TSV is, in large part, symbolic of & and an allegory to capitalism, then your answers, from my point of view, almost seems to affirm capitalism as an inescapable default.

For example, to refer back to communism ask, you say: "I can easily imagine TSV-world operating lots of little communes which appear independent and self-sufficient but which are, effectively, free-range sacrifice fields."

So even if a community were to succeed with breaking free from the systems at play, those same systems would still ultimately get them in the end. It would render those communities unsustainable, I'd think. I'd think they would inevitably be wiped out again and again, each time a new community crops up. Unless I've misunderstood something in your answers somewhere.

Genuinely, I'm not always the brightest person, so I could be missing something here. If I am, I also want to ask, is there anything that could be done to tear down the system at play? Would it take an entire society reset, where every brick of what was there before has been misplaced and the foundation ruined, to make possible the hope for something different? Or is the world of TSV doomed to its cycle?

I definitely don't agree that capitalism is an inescapable default, nor is that a conclusion I'd personally draw from the show (insert LeGuin quote about the rule of kings here).

I think there are relevant and challenging questions of 'Will we get away and how much will be left of us if we do?' and 'How can we build anything that can't be taken from us?' which the story of the podcast is aiming to explore through the struggles of its protagonists.

But these worldbuilding questions are ultimately about the relentless status quo of the setting, and so my answers will be trying to explain why it's successfully remained the status quo.

In other words, it'd be undermining the action and intention of the story - in my view - for me to answer 'yup, there's actually a successful fully-fledged alternative society just offscreen that's functioning without gods or sacrifice' or 'yes, that'd totally work, weird that nobody thought to do it', but that isn't intended as a subscription to outright doomerism or as evidence that the final message of the show is that it's hopeless to put up a fight.

#wait i’ve just been reminded that we did a wholeass ten-minute speech where the Cairn Maiden predicts the inevitable death of capitalism #so I should really just point you to that

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

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Yan Genshin Boys / Darling Breaking Up.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships.

Childe

Childe tries really hard to play it off as a joke in poor taste. Truthfully, he saw this coming from a mile away. He had adequate time to prepare his response as a result. If this doesn't work, he'll completely forgo his lighthearted façade, shedding it like snakeskin. He says he understands your concerns (his tone is cold enough to make you doubt the claim), but that it isn't anything you both can't work through. That's what relationships are about! Open communication and compromise. His family loves you, he loves you, why would you want to ruin a good thing? He knows how to talk you in circles. It's so frustrating and you're already in an emotionally vulnerable state. Being a member of the Fatui, he's done his fair share of interrogations. He knows how to systematically break a person's defenses down.

Diluc

You can't tell by his expression, but the poor man's heart is absolutely shattering. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels as if the best thing he has in his life is about to walk out the door. His lack of a response doesn't aid the situation; you're waiting for him to say something and he's just silently standing there. Thinking. His gloved fingers drumming on his mahogany desk. Whether or not you'll be allowed to leave Dawn Winery depends on if you told anyone you were coming here. If you did, then you get a couple more days of freedom while he finalizes certain arrangements. If you didn't, well... the suite he had made to his customizations will finally have a tenant.

Kaeya

Kaeya makes you question if this is what you really want. He'll acknowledge his shortcomings, yes, but he'll also point out yours. If you're both contributing to a problem, it's only fair that you work together to solve it, right? He carries this quiet confidence to him that puts you under his thrall. He knows what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. He's good with people and there's no one he knows better than you. If you were upset with him, you'll forget what was even bothering you in the first place ten minutes into his talking.

Zhongli

Zhongli wants to get to the heart of the problem. He doesn't go for the whole "it just isn't working" spiel, he wants specifics, something tangible to work with. The level of tact he uses when obtaining this information is commendable. You don't even think he's trying to talk you out of what you've come here to do. Any concerns you raise are treated with a level of respect that you almost feel is unfitting of the situation. He makes you feel heard and seen, always such a reliable pillar of support. Negotiations are his forte. The God of Contracts knows when to make concessions and when to stay firm. However you intended this to go, it inevitably sways in his favor instead.

Albedo

Albedo is eerily quiet to the point you end up rambling far more than you intended, trying desperately to fill the empty space. He had considered this possibility before, so he isn't completely thrown for a loop. It's far more unpleasant unfolding in reality than a hypothetical in his mind, though. How he navigates this tricky dilemma depends solely on you. If he thinks you can be talked into changing your mind, that's what he'll do, calmly going over things in that tone of his that makes you think everything is going to be alright. This is the method he'd prefer, since it'd change your relationship the least. Should you prove particularly stubborn, he can always use alchemy to synthesize a compound that'd make you drowsy... so this conversation can be continued in a more remote location.

Scaramouche

Takes it the worst from everyone here, no competition. It doesn't matter the tone or words you use, he's positively seething on the inside, an unbridled ball of rage and hurt. You're trying to leave him. Everyone always betrays him. Even you, the one he begrudgingly holds in high regard (at least compared to how he views everyone else). He's upset with himself for getting in this vulnerable position, he's upset with you for adding to the list of betrayals he's experienced, and he's upset with the world for thinking it could ever succeed in taking you away from him. He won't let it end this way; you're a fool if you think you're going anywhere after stealing his manufactured heart.

Xiao

He doesn't really understand what you're getting at. The concept of a 'breakup' is lost on him. He doesn't view romantic relationships in the traditional sense, he never ascribed a specific label to your connection. He views you as his favorite being to spend time with, so it's not like you can say he isn't your 'boyfriend' anymore, the moniker was technically never in play. The conversation isn't fun for either of you. Xiao does get that something's off about your dynamic, so he'll give you some space... for a time. Still watching you from afar, obviously, he has to keep you safe. He has no clue how to navigate this interpersonal stuff. He just kinda hopes to settle back into your routine and hovers around in your general vicinity to encourage this.

Kazuha

You probably won't be able to follow through with your "it's not you, it's me" speech. His eyes... oh, his eyes are so soft, glassy, almost. He patiently lets you say your piece, hanging on your every word, not rushing you and even placing his hand atop yours when you get emotional. He reassures you if you try to take the blame; he never likes it when you put yourself down. The fault clearly lies with him. If only he could provide you with an opulent lifestyle, you deserve someone better than a ronin from a clan whose name was forgotten by time. In a panic, you try to assuage his worries, and that's all it takes. He's got you right where he wants. It's not even entirely intentional on his part, which further adds to his credibility.

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kingofspadescos · 1 year ago

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Astarion x Reader - All You Wanna Do

Warnings - ANGST WITH GOOD ENDING

TW - Trauma, Sexual trauma mention

ALMOST MADE MYSELF CRY FROM THIS-

So in Six we all know Katherine Howard's (the pink one) song right? '

'All You Wanna Do'

And it goes through her lovers but how they only used her for her body?

Tell me that isn't Astarion.

Imagine after escaping Cazador (or at some point) he tries to get back out into the dating pool. He just wanted something, anything to make the numb feeling go away. And he thought he found it, but every day he'd wake up to an empty bed and every time he could feel more and more of himself break. Its an endless vicous cycle that he tries desperstly to break but fails inevitably.

He gives up, slinking back to the shadows and watching from afar.

But then one day when he slips out at night to visit a midnight market he accidently bumps into someone.

And it just so happens to be you.

He tilts his head when you smile up at him

"Sorry, sir, apprantly the skill of walking has alluded me" you said.

He's dumbfounded, a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue but unable to make it past his lips. How could it? You were truly breathtaking, the moonlight reflecting off your skin in a way he could only describe as ethereal.

And the way you looked at him, oh gods your eyes had him reeling. There was no hunger in them, no want, no lust, just embarrassment and genuine kindness, something he was not used to being the target of.

He could handle pure mindless need, but this? Such a sweet innocent little thing like you? Oh, no, he couldn't handle that. Not when you looked at him like he actually mattered in the world.

He barely managed out a stangled 'its fine' before dashing back to his dwelling...where he proceeded to lock himself away for days.

What else was he supposed to do? His heart was beating to another rhythm, a time that only meant heartbreak, anger, and self loathing. He couldn't handle it, not again.

But then, after a few days, a knock sounded at his door, and with caution he had opened it to find you there, holding his blade.

"Hi! You dropped this at the market a few days ago" you said "I asked around about you so I could find you, which was tremendously easy, apprantly there is only one known vampire around here."

And there that smile was again and those same eyes that had him crumbling.

"Thank you" he had coughed out, gently grabbing the blade. He wanted you out, far away from him as possible, just so he could function normally. But then your fingers accidently brushed his and he was almost done for.

Panic, excitement, fear, and hope came down on him in waves as he looked into your eyes again. He barely manged to stop himself from taking a step back as if the adoration and happiness that were captured in your eyes had physically pushed him.

"Well I should probably get going" you said turning to walk, and a new panic rose in his chest, the fear of never seeing you again.

"Wait!" He said too quickly for his own liking "come in for some tea, won't you? It's the least I could do to repay you."

From there you two go closer and closer, spending as much time together as possible. Each second he spent with you he felt his heart reach out towards you as if to embrace you and never let go.

But the fear was still there, the fear that he would get to close and you would leave him, just like everyone else.

However, the day came when you confessed. A new dagger in one hand and a rose in the other you looked up at him with those eyes. The same eyes he had yet to act normal about and told him you liked him and wanted him to be yours and you to be his.

The cold hand of panic that crippled his heart made an appearance, twisting the fear into his body and causing his knees to buckle. God's, he felt so stupid, felt so vulnerable and useless, but then a warmth surrounded him.

Your embrace.

You held him, arms tightly woven around his body keeping him secure to you.

"You can say no, you can tell me no" you had whispered, and he almost jumped at the out "but if you're willing to let me hold your heart ill shall cherish it til' the sun no longer shines and even then I shall create my own."

You had him in tears, hands clutching at you in desperation and head burying into your neck.

The rest of the night was spent with assurance and love, you guiding him through a simple kiss that led to nothing more.

And in the morning when he awoke, he cried again when he saw you curled into his side, hand clutching his with the intent of never letting go.

#Bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion my beloved #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #Six #six the musical #im crying #fanfiction #vampire

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eskir · 3 months ago

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false god - aventurine x reader

your love makes him feel as if he's been raised up to a pedestal the idea that it could crumble underneath him is truly frightening

when you look at him, with admiration and fever like a devotee to an aeon, he is reminded that he is mortal. he is undoubtedly mortal because aeons don't fall for their followers. he knows that he is mortal because of the fear that raises its head whenever he confronts the fact that he is attached to you.

it didn't start this way, with you looking at him with hidden yet so noticeable love for him. the first conversation between you two was nothing but a business formality, something between two partners who wouldn't talk again after a project. after all, the IPC was a large organization.

so for the first couple of days it was cold business talk. but, over the weeks, he managed to grow on you with his almost lazy smirk and extravagant tendencies. eventually you two could talk as if you were really friends, as if aventurine didn't treat 'friends' like transactions and things that would inevitably fall apart.

and one day, when you had opened up, you smiled and pointed at his eyes. aventurine moved away from your finger, ducking to the side, not expecting that sudden gesture, and your next words made him pause.

"honestly, when i first saw you all i could think about was how beautiful your eyes are."

it was genuine. you were being as truthful. and it wasn't out of a necessity to be cordial as business partners nor as a benefit for you; instead, those words were just a simple thought that you decided, on a whim, to reveal.

but he quickly shook off the shock that you could be so open to a mere business partner. he donned the smirk and pushed your hand away from his face. you were too close.

"are they still beautiful in your eyes? or, hm... am i beautiful in your eyes?"

aventurine brings your hand closer to his lips as he leans forward. there was that casual smirk, but when you looked into his eyes... it was an analytical gaze, yet it was also asking to know exactly how much he is worth in your eyes. you couldn't tell where this came from, but you could certainly guess.

it was out of a need to have a worth, to be in control and knowledgeable of all the pieces.

so you pulled away with a laugh, playing off this entire encounter as a joke. you ignored the emptiness in his eyes as you bid him good night. it would do no good to call him beautiful. after all, would he even take it seriously?

and then the project ended, cordially, without anything else.

so then how did the two of you get here, with you looking at him with such adoration?

your kisses are soft, and yet with each of them a deep sense of fear arises in his chest, taking his heart captive. he wants to lean into you and hold you close, but how could he when he is greeted with the memory of his past?

he longs to be emotionally distant enough from you so that he could give into the temptation of your touch: you'd be close enough, but far enough away so that he could control his emotions. he longs to be the only one in your eyes, but would you even stay when he isn't willing to open up in that way yet?

so keep him close then, with his hand wrapped around your waist and the other in your hair. he'll press chaste kisses, not out of politeness, but out of fear. if he gets too close, what'll happen?

what he doesn't see, and what you can see, is that he looks at you with the same desperate kind of love. you're both candles, chasing the flame that is the other's embrace.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #light angst #i like angst #this has been sitting in drafts for 5 months lmao

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cursedhaglette · 11 months ago

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Shoutout Sunday

it is so freaking kind of @littlejuicebox and @tallymonster to tag my work in their shoutout posts, so i wanted to add my own recs of fics i am currently wishing I could leave 1000 kudos on.

also fair warning, i'm a long fic girl. give me an OC to be obsessed, someone i can imagine my own hanging out with, and hopefully one that their author is also obsessed with. i wanna feel that through the writing. and with these, you can.

Pieces Left Stuck in Your Teeth by @howlsmovinglibrary / @wetcatspellcaster - i couldn't put this down when i started it, to the point i was reading it in the car when i should have been grocery shopping. i couldn't stop. it is witty always, devastating at times, and this version of Astarion is just terrible and hilarious in all the best ways

Not Your Sweetheart by @kittenintheden - the most natural dialogue I've ever read, and also the most hilarious. kitten also has such a talent for writing every character in a way that has me laughing each time anyone in her fic speaks. unless it hurts, in which case, it's gonna hurt a LOT

I Want to be Better; Let's Make Each Other Worse by @redrook - my frequent writing bud who's ideas outdo my own more often that not, Jack is an absolute genius and their fic shows it with every word written. the strange ox like you've never seen him before, dolphin riding, ceiling sex - you name it, it's in here AND it makes sense

Pour One Out by the absolutely delicious mind of @aevallare - auristarion supremacy for always. we all know kindred but if you aren't also reading Pour One Out you are, unfortunately, a fool

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal by @brain-rot-central - neech is doing something truly different with this devastating and delicious A!A piece. and for it to be her first long fic??! the talent is insane

Made for This by @olivedrop - Olive's fic brings me so much joy, not just because Olive herself is an absolute delight, but because her writing is so real and the way she captures the companions feels like it was cut dialogue it's so good

now you want some SMUT? OKAY lets talk - take these and call me in the morning

Think of Me by @scaryanneee is the smut fic of all time for me. i've recced this an unhealthy number of times, probably bordering on it being obsessive

inevitable by @aevallare the smut fic i rec the second most because it's just so easy to place myself in the moment alex writes and as always, i love when the tadpole gets thrown in while folks get nasty

Where were you when I was new? by @kittenintheden - just shut the fuck up and read this and you'll get it. also i'll never stop thinking about how kitten writes dialogue in smut because holy cow

Pent Up by @underdark-dreams - this isn't even Astarion I'm sorry. it's Rolan. i don't even know if i like Rolan. BUT I LOVE THIS FIC. it is so fucking good oh my god.

Careless Whisper by @tallymonster - okay i might be biased because Tally offered to mention Halia here and made her the goddamn prima ballerina, but this is also just So Good and such a fun read. modern AUs don't usually work for me, but this one is that charming

and of course, though i doubt you need my rec to know her by now, anything written by miss @fangswbenefits will make your toes curl. and i mean anything.

#astarion fic writers #astarion fic recs #astarion fanfic recs #astarion fic #astarion fanfic recommendations #fanfic recommendation #fanfic rec #bg3 fanfic #hagbabbles #fic recs

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cinnamonest · 1 year ago

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Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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