#anyway you're pretentious and rude as fuck

[desterea]

i still would love to know what scientifically backed treatments and peer reviewed research that ferret is talking about. and if any of those are universally accessible.

[doormatty3]

The King's Broodmare (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] You hate him and what he stands for - Orm Marius, the current King of Atlantis. In your eyes he doesn’t deserve the title with his arrogant behaviour and short fuse. So you decide to openly defy him by showing up to a ball with Atlanna’s crest proudly stitched onto your dress. However, your act of rebellion does not sit well with Orm. He doesn’t like the blatant display of disrespect, and he’s determined to make you worship him - one way or another. OR: Orm *makes* you submit to him and turns you into his perfect pet.

Wordcount: 14,173

Warnings: 18+, extremely dubious consent, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, face fucking, blowjob, fingering, spanking, bondage, rough oral sex, biting, edging, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, nipple play, trident fucking

A/N: This story is for you guys and the people sitting next to me on my multiple-hour train ride - maybe this will be a lesson to not look at other people's screens.

Anyways: This whole story is extremely problematic, emphasise on extremely - I was debating putting a rape warning on the story but ultimately decided against it since Reader-Chan is kinda into the things Orm does. But still: HUGE warning if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff.

Part of you actually hates these sorts of events. 

It's not just the pretentious displays of wealth or the shameless indulgence in ego-stroking that gets to you - it's the realisation that individuals like Orm thrive in this environment. 

The adoration the people shower upon Orm, the newly crowned King of Atlantis, leaves you utterly confused. What's there to admire about him?

Certainly not his demeanour; it's as if arrogance itself were personified in him. He's brash, power-hungry, unyielding, and, unfortunately, undeniably handsome. 

With his striking blonde hair cropped neatly and eyes as piercingly blue as the depths of the ocean, Orm embodies the epitome of regality. His very presence commands attention, drawing gazes like a magnet. Yet, it's a tragic irony - his attractiveness seems wasted on a soul so consumed by hubris.

You despise Orm's relentless craving for admiration and his insistence on being hailed as the rightful king and heir to the throne - conveniently overlooking the tragic fate of his mother at the hands of his father and the undeniable presence of his half-brother, Arthur.

You had your run-ins with Orm, and with each and every encounter, the loathing deepens, fueled by his haughty demeanour and unabashed rudeness directed squarely at you.

He carries himself as though everyone is beneath him, as if they are nothing more than insignificant specks of dust beneath his feet.  In your opinion, those are already bad qualities in an ordinary person, but in a king, they are nothing short of disastrous.

Perhaps that's why you made the unconventional choice to adorn your dress with a royal crest. Well, not any crest - it's the emblem of Orm's late mother.

It's your silent rebellion, a subtle yet pointed statement aimed at challenging Orm's delusions of universal adoration and perhaps even tactfully signalling to others that his claim to the throne is not as unassailable as he would like to believe.

In a way, it feels slightly absurd, almost bordering on the realm of eccentricity, but there's an undeniable satisfaction in defying Orm's inflated ego and reminding him that not everyone is enamoured by his ascent to power. Especially now as he seeks to bolster his authority with the title of Ocean Master.

You are a firm believer that all balls are equally dull and monotonous - pretentious people indulge in posh food and strive for favour with the powerful. 

With a soft, resigned exhale, you languidly sip on your champagne, taking solace in the fact that at least you look hot tonight. The flowing dress in a hue of serene light blue enhances your figure flawlessly, the fabric cascading gracefully around your legs, accentuating their slender length.

The dress has short sleeves, the fabric draping loosely around your arms, and a high neckline that conceals your cleavage, yet a daring diamond-shaped cutout just below your breast adds a touch of playfulness. 

And there, proudly displayed upon the chest, rests the embroidered crest. A bold statement, ensuring that everyone in attendance will take notice.

Navigating through the crowd, you engage in polite conversation, exchanging pleasantries and fielding questions about the crest adorning your attire. With each inquiry, you offer a cryptic smile, enjoying the subtle intrigue your choice of embellishment stirs among the crowd.

As you spend time in the palace, you can't help but marvel at the grandeur of your surroundings. 

The opulence is palpable, evident in every meticulously placed decoration and intricately designed detail.

Despite your reservations about the event itself, you can't deny the sheer beauty and attention to detail that has gone into the decorations. It's a testament to the wealth and power of those who call this palace home, a stark reminder of the world you find yourself navigating tonight.

After some time, the grand doors swing open, and the room falls into a hushed reverence as the soldiers' announcement reverberates through the air, signalling the arrival of Orm. 

Despite the soldiers' commanding tone and the murmur in the room, you can't bring yourself to think of him as King Orm, not even in the depth of your mind - because, to you, he is not your king.

The crowd obediently parts, creating a path leading to the imposing throne standing at the room's far end.  With a commanding aura, Orm strides forward, his every step echoing with a sense of entitlement that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. His presence seems to cast a shadow over the assembled guests, a reminder of the power he wields, whether rightfully or not.

"Bow to the king of Atlantis - your king," the soldier's voice booms out once more with an unmistakable command. 

But as you observe the people bowing to him as he passes by, you remain rooted in defiance, refusing to bend to the will of a ruler whose legitimacy you refuse to acknowledge.

You observe with a mixture of disdain and begrudging admiration as Orm strides through the throne room, flanked by an entourage of Atlantean soldiers. His appearance is as impeccable as ever, a testament to his penchant for grandeur and ostentation.

Clad shining gold armour, every inch of Orm's attire seems meticulously chosen to accentuate his imposing stature. The chest plate and arm guards gleam in the light, casting a radiant glow that highlights the strength of his broad shoulders and chest, while his flowing gold cape adds an extra layer of majesty to his ensemble.

Atop his head rests a crown of matching gold, a symbol of his supposed authority, nestled amongst his thick, lustrous blond hair. 

As he moves through the room, his piercing blue eyes sweep over the assembled crowd, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The sight of people bowing in deference only seems to fuel his ego, confirming his belief in his own superiority and entitlement.

As Orm passes by where you stand, your eyes inadvertently lock for a fleeting moment, and it feels as if a bolt of lightning has struck you. Despite your disdain for him, you can't help but be momentarily captivated by the depth of his gaze, reminiscent of the vast expanse of the ocean itself. 

Yet, beneath the surface allure, he remains nothing more than an arrogant tyrant, unworthy of your reverence - and unworthy of you bowing to him.

You hold his gaze with steely determination, a silent defiance etched into your expression. You notice a subtle shift in his demeanour as his eyes flicker to the crest adorning your chest. He raises his eyebrow as if to say really? - a bit surprised and amused by your audacity. 

But you hold your ground, unyielding in your silent protest.

As he moves away, continuing his procession towards the throne, you exhale a breath you didn't realise you were holding. Glancing around discreetly, you confirm that no one else seems to have caught the exchange. In your mind, you know that it took no more than a few seconds but it felt like ages.

You watch with a mixture of relief and frustration as Orm continues his journey towards the throne, his demeanour unmarred by the brief encounter. 

As he settles onto his throne, his voice resonates with authority as he addresses the gathered crowd with a sense of self-assurance. "People of Atlantis, have I not been a good king? Have I not shown kindness and care towards our merfolk?" His words echo through the room, eliciting nods of agreement from many in attendance.

But while others seem to be swayed by his rhetoric, you remain unconvinced as you observe the scene unfolding before you. 

Suddenly, Orm's gaze locks onto yours, and a chill runs down your spine as he continues, his tone turning icy. "Well, not everyone thinks so," he declares, his words laced with disdain. "There are those among us who dare to support the half-breed-bastard Arthur."

Your heart races in your chest, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. It's as if he's singled you out, his cold gaze boring into your soul. At that moment, you can't help but question the wisdom of your silent rebellion, wondering if the crest stitched onto your chest was indeed a mistake.

"Bring her forth!"

Orm's command freezes you in place, sending a shiver down your spine as you stare at him with wide eyes. Panic courses through your veins as a guard forcefully walks through the crowd towards you. Instinct tells you to run, to hide, to do anything to escape. But deep down, you know there's nowhere to go and no way to avoid the inevitable conflict.

So instead, you stand your ground, determination etched into every line of your face as you hold your chin high. You meet Orm's gaze with unwavering defiance, determined not to let him see the turmoil churning within you.

You refuse to yield.

As the soldier drags you forward, your heart pounds in your chest.  You meet Orm's gaze once more, finding him seated on the throne with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

Orm's voice cuts through the tension, loud and dripping with arrogance - a force that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the throne room. "I'm giving you one last chance - kneel," he commands, his tone daring you to defy him.

But you refuse to relent, your own voice rising defiantly in response. "No," you declare, the word ringing out loudly in the stunned silence of the room."I'll only bow before the true king."

The gasps that ripple through the crowd are like a chorus of disbelief as you openly defy his command. As the weight of your opposition hangs heavy in the air, you meet Orm's gaze once more, and you can see the flicker of anger in his eyes.

His azure gaze darkens, the once bright blue now clouded with a menacing intensity. It's as if a storm is brewing behind those eyes, a tempest of fury and resentment ready to be unleashed. 

In an instant, Orm rises from his throne, towering over you with an imposing presence. His face looms just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, his voice dripping with a chilling mixture of admiration and menace. "You're brave, I'll give you that," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "But that won't matter anymore."

As his proximity envelops you, you find yourself engulfed in his scent, an intoxicating blend of something heavy and heady, as if the essence of power itself intertwines with the very air around him. It's as if his aura radiates off him in waves, filling the space between you with a palpable sense of authority and dominance.

It overwhelms your senses for a short moment - the sheer attraction you feel almost too much.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you gulp, the gravity of Orm's fury looming over you like a storm cloud. You had anticipated his displeasure, but the sheer ferocity of his anger catches you off guard. You hadn't imagined that a simple crest could provoke such a visceral reaction from him.

"What? Can't handle some opposition?" The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, fueled by a mixture of defiance, apprehension and the fog in your mind from him being so close.

A gasp escapes your lips as Orm's hand darts forward, seizing the crest on your chest with a swift, decisive motion. You feel the material of your dress constricting as his warm hand curls around the emblem, his grip firm and unyielding.

In one quick and brutal movement, Orm tears the crest from its place, the sound of tearing fabric echoing loudly in the room, exposing your chest to the cool air of the throne room.

The sudden rush of air against your bare breasts sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively cross your arms over yourself, a futile attempt to shield your exposed skin from the prying eyes of the crowd.  Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as the gaze of the bystanders bears down upon you, their murmurs of shock and disapproval echoing in your ears.

You struggle to find your voice in the midst of the chaos as your mind goes blank, unable to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. 

Your thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm as Orm's strong hands clamp around your wrists, pinning them firmly at your sides - a shiver courses through you at the touch of his commanding grasp. 

Orm's eyes linger hungrily on your exposed tits, his gaze dark with desire as a predatory smirk curls at the corners of his lips.

He leans in close, his voice a low, menacing whisper that sends a thrill of apprehension down your spine. "You're gonna wish you didn't defy me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "In the end, you'll yield."

His words hang in the air like a warning, you feel a surge of heat pooling low in your belly. Despite the embarrassment and vulnerability of the situation, there's an undeniable undercurrent of arousal coursing through you, fueled by the raw power and intensity of the confrontation.

Before you can even process Orm's words, his command reverberates through the room with chilling finality. "Guards, take her to my chambers. I'll deal with her later!"

Panic surges through you as the reality of the situation sinks in. His guards move with swift obedience, closing in around you like a vice. You try to pull away, to cover yourself once more, but before you can react, one of the soldiers seizes your wrists and wrenches them behind your back with a brutal force.

As the soldier spins you around to face the crowd, a wave of humiliation crashes over you as you're shoved forward, stumbling ungracefully with each step. The gazes of the onlookers feel like searing daggers against your bare skin, and you can practically feel the heat of their scrutiny as they take in the sight of your exposed breasts.

Every instinct screams for you to cover yourself, to shield your nakedness from their prying eyes, but the grip of the guards is unyielding, and your struggles are in vain. With each push and shove, you're propelled further through the crowd with your tits shamelessly on display and bouncing with each unsteady step.

You feel a deep flush of embarrassment suffuse your cheeks as you pass by the sea of faces, their eyes lingering on your jiggling flesh, their whispers like a chorus of mockery echoing in your ears. As you make your way towards the exit of the room, you can't help but wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, sparing you from this public spectacle of humiliation.

_____

"You can't do this!" you scream at the guards, your voice laced with desperation and defiance, an attempt to reason with the guards, "you can't fucking do this!"

Your protests echo off the walls of Orm's chambers as you struggle against the iron grip of his guards, but their hold is unyielding, their hands like vices as they snap metal cufflinks around your wrists and ankles.

The weight of the restraints bears down on you, making every movement a challenge and leaving you feeling utterly helpless and confined. You continue to fight against the bonds, your muscles straining against the guards' hold and the metal. 

Terror grips you as the guards snap an iron cufflink around your neck, the cold metal pressing against your skin like a vice. You're frozen in shock, your wide eyes locking with the guards in disbelief.

"Please... I'm not a criminal,"  you beg, the desperation evident in your voice. But the guards remain unmoved, their faces impassive as they attach the chain from your neck to a hook in the ceiling,  effectively tethering you in place.

As they leave you alone in the chamber, a sense of dread washes over you like a suffocating wave. You're left bound and exposed, chained like a dog, with your wrists, ankles, and neck encircled by unforgiving metal while your tits are still bare.

_____

The creak of the door opening breaks the silence of the chambers, and your head whips around instinctively, the chains around your neck and wrists rattling with the movement. 

Your eyes meet Orm's, and you notice a flicker of surprise in his expression as he takes in the sight of you, restrained and exposed.

"I... I told them to detain you," he admits, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern as he steps closer to where you're standing. "But I didn't mean this," he adds, his words punctuated by a flick of his hand as he gestures to the chains that bind you.

A mix of emotions swirl within you - confusion, anger, and a sliver of hope. Could it be that Orm didn't intend for you to be subjected to such treatment?

But before you can say anything, you watch as he reaches behind his neck to unclasp his golden cape.

"I may not agree with your standpoint or the stunt you pulled in my throne room today," he admits, his voice gruff but tone carrying a hint of respect despite the underlying tension. "But you're still a lady."

With deliberate steps, Orm closes the distance between you, his cape in hand. When he's close enough, he drapes it over bare, exposed breasts. His fingers accidentally graze over your nipples, eliciting an immediate response from your body as they harden instantly under his touch,

A shiver runs down your spine, the brief contact sending tingles of arousal through your veins, and you can't help but gulp as you feel his presence so intimately close.

You feel a surge of conflicting emotions - gratitude for his unexpected gesture, confusion at his mixed signals, and an undeniable arousal that you struggle to conceal. You hate how your body reacts to him, but you can't deny the physical response he evokes in you. 

But in that moment, all you can do is hope that Orm didn't notice the subtle reaction that his touch elicited from you as he covered you with his cape.

You feel somewhat perplexed that he is so nice to you all of a sudden. 

This version of him, displaying a hint of compassion and understanding, is a stark contrast to the tyrannical king you've known before. Yet, you can't shake off the hope that perhaps you can use this opportunity to persuade him to release you from your restraints.

His piercing blue eyes meet yours, studying you intently, and you take the chance to return the gaze, examining him up close. 

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but appreciate the way his eyes sparkle in the soft light of his chambers, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on water, scattered beneath its surface. His features are regal, with a straight nose and plush pink lips that are currently not twisted into a sneer or mocking smirk.

For a fleeting moment, you find yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him before swiftly scolding yourself internally for such thoughts.

You notice a subtle stubble on his cheeks and neck, barely visible yet adding a rugged charm to his otherwise polished appearance. His lush blonde hair remains perfectly styled, and the crown atop his head serves as a reminder of his status.

There's no denying that he's attractive, a fact that both intrigues and frustrates you.

Despite his physical appeal, he's still the king you hate, a false king who has caused you so much distress - man that shouldn't be sitting on the throne. 

You shiver again, your hands twitching involuntarily as the chains around your wrists and ankles rattle with the movement, drawing Orm's attention, his eyes flicking over the metal cuffs.

"Let me get you out of those," he declares, surprising you with his offer as he gracefully sinks down on his knees to start with the cuffs on your ankles.

Your heart quickens at his proximity, and you can't help but tense up as his warm fingers brush against your bare legs. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you try to steady your breathing, but the sensation of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

It's surprisingly gentle, almost tender, as his hand closes around your calf. You notice the size of his hands - broad palms and long fingers that effortlessly encase your leg, sending an electric sensation through your veins.

You're grateful that he doesn't look up at you, his attention focused on freeing you from the cuffs. You're also relieved that it seems like he hasn't noticed the effect his touch is having on you. 

But as he tightens his hold on your calf, a wave of arousal washes over you, causing you to involuntarily press your thighs together as desire pools low in your body. 

"Stop that," he commands, his muscles visibly tensing as he struggles to maintain composure. "If you don't want to make me lose it."

Orm's warning tone sends a jolt of apprehension through you, his strained voice hinting at a volatile undercurrent beneath his calm exterior.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your mind clouded by his presence and the palpable tension in the air -  reeling from the intensity of the moment. "Lose what?" you ask, your voice breathless even to your own ears, unable to resist the urge to provoke him further. "Your crown? I hope you do."

His reaction is immediate, his head snapping up to meet your gaze. The barely restrained desire and anger in his eyes send a thrill through you, even as you realise the dangerous game you're playing.

"Enough," he snarls, a warning laced in his tone.

But you're too far gone to heed his warning, your mind clouded by his presence and the surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You can't tell me what to do. You're not my king anyway," you retort defiantly, the words spilling out without restraint.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you sense the gravity of your mistake. But instead of backing down, you double down on your defiance, spitting on the floor just inches away from him to underline your disregard for his authority.

You brace yourself for his explosive reaction, expecting anger or a sharp rebuke. Yet, to your surprise, Orm remains strangely calm, his grip tightening around your calves as a smirk plays on his lips - reminiscent of a calm before the storm.

"Oh, I'll make you worship me, don't you wait," his voice drips with anger and a hint of sadistic pleasure.

Your heart races as Orm reaches for the chain connected to the cuff around your neck, a surge of panic coursing through you as he pulls on it.  Instantly, your hands fly up to your neck, instinctively trying to relieve the pressure and prevent yourself from being choked. 

With a gasp, you rise to your tiptoes, the chain taut, your eyes widening in alarm as you meet Orm's icy blue gaze. His eyes hold a steely resolve, unforgiving and unyielding, sending a shiver of fear down your spine. 

Automatically, your legs close in a reflexive attempt to maintain your balance, but Orm refuses to grant you respite. With a firm tug on the cuff around your ankle, he commands, "Spread them, or I'll help you," his voice carrying a menacing edge that leaves no room for negotiation, "And believe me, you don't want that."

The internal struggle between defiance and submission rages within you, but in the end, the intensity of Orm's gaze and the palpable aura of dominance he exudes leave you with no choice but to comply. With a hesitant nod, you reluctantly spread your legs as he instructed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and anticipation coursing through your veins.

As you adjust your stance, you're rewarded by a low, rumbling hum that seems to emanate from the depths of Orm's chest. It sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, fueling the arousal that pulses steadily through your veins. 

With the slight adjustment in your position, you feel the tension in the chain connected to the cuff around your neck ease slightly, granting you a moment of relief.

As he steps closer to you once more, his intoxicating scent surrounds you, enveloping you in a haze of desire and confusion. It clouds your mind, leaving you dizzy with need as your eyes flutter closed involuntarily, overwhelmed by the sensations that wash over you in his presence.

Orm's deep voice resonates through the air, sending a shiver down your spine as his words penetrate your consciousness. "You like this," he asserts, his tone carrying a hint of smugness as he observes your reaction. The warmth radiating from him is palpable, drawing you in despite your instinctive urge to resist.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes to meet his intense gaze, feeling a flush of heat creeping up your cheeks under his scrutiny. You want to deny his accusation, to assert your defiance, but he speaks again before you can come up with something. 

"Don't deny it, I can smell you," he declares, his words sending a jolt of arousal through you as you realise the truth in his statement. It leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body betraying your desires in ways you can't control.

With deliberate intent, Orm runs a hand over your arm, his touch igniting a cascade of goosebumps in its wake. You feel the electric charge of his fingertips against your skin, each caress sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. His gaze remains locked on your face, his deep blue eyes reflecting the desire that burns within him.

Caught in the intensity of the moment, you find yourself unable to look away, drawn to the magnetic pull of Orm's presence, captivated by the raw intensity of him. 

Orm closes the distance between you with a fierce determination, his lips crashing against yours in an aggressive kiss that overwhelms your senses. His scent, his taste, his warmth - all engulf you in a whirlwind as he kisses you.

You find yourself momentarily lost in the passion, succumbing to the intensity of his kiss as he asserts his dominance with every brush of his lips and sweep of his tongue,  exploring every crevice with arrogant confidence, leaving you breathless and unable to resist his commanding presence.

He kisses you like he rules - unwavering and ruthless.

Yet, amidst the fervour of the moment, a surge of defiance courses through you, spurred by the realisation that you won't succumb to his dominance without a fight. 

With a sharp bite, you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, drawing blood in a bold act of rebellion. The metallic tang mingles with the taste of him, a potent reminder of the boundary you dare to challenge.

Instead of pulling away, Orm responds with a low growl, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulls on it forcefully. The sharp tug forces your head back, breaking the kiss and leaving you gasping for breath.

Your chest heaves with the intensity of the encounter as you watch him through hazy eyes and you find yourself mesmerised by the sight before you.

Orm's pupils are blown wide with desire, his unruly hair falling over his face in disarray. A small trickle of blood stains his lip where you bit him, and you watch in silent fascination as he runs his tongue over the wound, a primal glint in his eyes. 

"Feisty... I like it," Orm growls, his voice rough and laden with arousal. The words send a thrill through you, and you're startled to realise that he's just as turned on as you are. 

He begins to circle you like a predator, his movements slow and deliberate, each step heightening the tension between you. His eyes never leave yours, and the glint in them makes your heart race. It's as if he's ready to pounce, to claim what he sees as his.

The steady beat of your own arousal pulses through you, an undeniable rhythm that matches the anticipation building in the room. You stand there, chained and exposed, feeling like prey under his watchful gaze, yet there's an inexplicable thrill in the way he looks at you as if he's savouring every moment of your defiance and vulnerability.

Orm moves behind you, his presence a menacing yet tantalising force. His nose brushes lightly against the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine while the warmth of his breath contrasts with the cool air of the room and heightens your sensitivity. 

With a swift motion, he pulls off the cape, exposing your breasts to the air once again. The sudden bareness sends a rush of vulnerability and arousal through you and you let out a shocked gasp.

His hands come up, rough and possessive, to cup your tits. He plays with them expertly, his touch both firm and teasing. A quiet moan escapes your lips, betraying your surprise and reluctant pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?" Orm's voice is a low, taunting whisper against your ear.

He bites down on your neck, the sharp sensation making you gasp again. At the same time, his fingers pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. Without thinking, you push back against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against your ass. The heat of him, even through his clothes, is undeniable, and your body responds instinctively, craving more of that contact.

Orm growls softly, a sound of approval, and his hands continue their merciless teasing. His fingers roll and tug at your nipples, heightening the waves of arousal that are crashing through your being. 

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your mind a hazy mess of defiance and desire. Every touch, every bite, every whispered taunt pulls you deeper into the intoxicating web he's weaving around you, leaving you aching and wanting despite yourself.

Suddenly, Orm's hand snaps away, delivering a stinging slap to your ass that makes you yelp in surprise. The sharp pain mingles with the pleasure coursing through you, a potent mix that leaves you breathless. He strides back in front of you, eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

Without warning, he captures your mouth in another kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a brutal passion. You return the kiss, hot and heady, your mind a swirl of sensations. 

As his tongue invades your mouth, his hands move to your dress, ripping it further apart. You gasp into the kiss, feeling the fabric tear away, exposing more of your trembling body.

"It's ruined anyway, pet," he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with possessive hunger.

With one final, forceful tug, he rips the dress down the middle so it slides off your body. Before you can protest, his hand moves between your legs, cupping your cunt possessively. The roughness of his touch sends shockwaves through you, making you shudder.

"You're so hot and wet... I can feel it, whore," he growls, slipping his fingers beneath the seam of your panties. The sudden intrusion of his thick fingers plunging into you makes you moan loudly into the kiss. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body reacting instinctively to his every touch.

His fingers move inside you with practised skill, curling and thrusting in a rhythm that has you arching into him, desperate for more. The kiss grows more frantic, your moans muffled against his mouth as his fingers drive you closer to the edge. The chains rattle with your movements, a stark reminder of your helplessness, but all you can focus on is the intense, raw pleasure he's giving you.

Orm breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "You belong to me now." The declaration sends a fresh wave of heat through your body, and you can't help but moan again, your body betraying the fierce defiance still lingering in your mind.

He swallows your sounds, his mouth hot and demanding against yours. His fingers pump into your cunt with hard, relentless thrusts, each stroke driving you wild. 

The rough pad of his palm grazes your clit with every plunge, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. The friction is deliciously unbearable, and despite your hatred for him, you can't help but surrender to the sensations he's forcing upon you.

Your body betrays you completely, your cunt clenching around his fingers, as if drawing them in deeper, craving more of the forceful friction. Each thrust seems to push you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder and more desperate.

"You want it," Orm's voice is a harsh whisper against your ear, his breath hot and tantalising. He nips at your earlobe, sending another shiver down your spine. "Your body says one thing, even if your mouth says another."

You bite back a retort, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. His fingers curl inside you, finding that sweet spot that makes your vision blur and your legs tremble.

Orm's fingers move faster, harder, driving you towards a peak that you can't deny. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, your body arching against him, desperate for release. He seems to revel in your responses, his eyes dark with desire and dominance.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice a possessive rumble that sends a fresh wave of heat through your body. The words should infuriate you, but instead, they only push you closer to the brink. 

You tremble as you feel the crest of your orgasm building, the sensation growing more intense with each stroke of Orm's fingers. His relentless rhythm hits that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars and sending electric sensations through your entire body as your mind goes hazy, overtaken by the sheer pleasure he's giving you.

The room fills with the sounds of your ragged breaths, the rattling of chains as your body shudders in response, and the wet, obscene noise of his fingers plunging into your soaked cunt. Your body reacts instinctively, clenching and fluttering around his fingers, chasing the climax that's just within reach.

But just as you teeter on the edge, your orgasm almost within grasp, Orm pulls his fingers out abruptly, denying you the release you so desperately need. The sudden emptiness leaves you gasping, a sound of protest escaping your lips as your hips buck involuntarily, seeking the pleasure he so cruelly withheld.

Your eyes fly open, meeting his intense gaze, and you see that his pupils are blown wide, his hard cock straining against the constraints of his pants. Your gaze wanders over his fingers, and you see the wetness glistening on the thick digits.

The smirk playing on his lips is infuriating, his eyes dark with both desire and a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you come that easily?" His voice is low and mocking, sending another shiver through your body. "You need to learn your place, pet."

Your body trembles with need, the denied climax leaving you on edge, every nerve ending screaming for relief. The ache between your thighs is almost unbearable, your cunt still clenching around nothing, desperate for the friction he took away. Your breaths come in short, frustrated gasps, your chest heaving as you try to regain some semblance of control.

You glare at him, anger and arousal mixing in a volatile cocktail inside you. "You bastard," you spit out, your voice shaking with unspent desire. "Finish what you started."

His hand comes up to cup your chin, tilting your face up so you're forced to meet his gaze. "You don't get to make demands," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "But I will make you beg for it."

He pulls away, and you watch, mesmerised, as he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you see his tongue tracing the shape, and he lets out a pleased grunt. "Delicious."

A needy whine escapes you, your body pulsing with unfulfilled desire. Part of you can't believe how desperate you are for him, but there's something about Orm that makes you feral with want. 

But it doesn't matter how hot he is or how much you want to feel him inside you - you won't beg. 

You are proud, and you will not submit to the wrong king of Atlantis. 

As if he can hear your thoughts, he smirks. 

Orm steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "You think you can resist me?" His voice is a dangerous whisper. "You think you can deny what your body clearly wants?" He runs a hand down your side, his touch sending shivers through you.

Your breath hitches as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "You will beg for it," he promises, his voice a dark, seductive growl. "I will make you scream my name."

Orm's words send a chill down your spine, a shiver of unease mingling with the lingering arousal. His touch leaves a sticky trail of your essence and his spit on your cheek, and you can't help but squirm against the chains that bind you. 

"In the end... your mind will be empty except for me. You'll desire nothing but my touch," he continues, his voice dripping with arrogance and confidence. 

The promise unsettles you, stirring a sense of foreboding deep within you. Despite the haze of arousal clouding your thoughts, you know you need to get out of this situation. But the cuffs around your arms, legs, and neck hold you firmly in place, rendering you powerless to escape.

Fear and arousal war within you as Orm steps back, his smirk widening as he watches your struggle. It's clear that he revels in the control he holds over you, and the realisation only fuels your determination to break free from his grasp, so you close your legs a bit, trying to regain some control of the situation.

But that attempt is swiftly met with Orm's retaliation. His hands, big and warm, force your thighs apart, his grip firm enough to leave bruises. 

"I told you to keep them spread… but since you can't hear, I'll make sure they stay spread," he says, his tone more amused than angry at your futile resistance. It's as if he anticipated your reaction all along.

You can do nothing but watch as he pulls away from you and fastens the chains around pillars, spreading you out completely. Your breath quickens as the realisation sets in that you're completely exposed, your cunt open to the cold air - and to him.

Meeting Orm's eyes once more, you're met with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. You're consumed with the desire to wipe it off, to regain some semblance of control in this twisted game he's playing. But bound and helpless, all you can do is endure his taunts and wait for an opportunity to break free.

"This is how a whore should look... spread out for me to use," Orm's voice resonates with a low, husky tone as he closes the distance between you once more. 

Before you can react or comprehend what's happening, he brings his hand down with a swift and forceful motion, the flat of his palm connecting with your sensitive, wet cunt in a hard, audible slap. 

The sting reverberates through your body, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips as the sensation overwhelms your senses. The pain mingling with the ache of arousal deep within you.

It takes a second for the pain to set in as you look at him with wide eyes, your pussy throbbing from the blow. 

Before your brain can catch you and process it, he does it again, harder this time. The flat of his hand connects perfectly with your clit and you can't help but let out a yelp that morphs into a moan, which makes him bark out a laugh - the sound echoes around the room, dark and mocking.

"Oh, the whore likes having her dirty cunt spanked?" he taunts, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Fuck you," you manage to grind out, your pussy throbbing intensely. God, yes, you like it - the way it stimulates your already sensitive clit sends waves of pleasure through you. But fuck, he doesn't get to do this to you. He doesn't get to have this power over you.

Orm's expression shifts to one of displeasure. He shakes his head slowly, making a disappointed tsk sound. "And here I thought you had learned something," he says, his voice filled with cold amusement.

With that, he brings his hand down again in a hard, swift motion, connecting sharply with your pussy. 

You cry out, the sound a mix of pain and unwilling pleasure. 

He doesn't stop there. 

Over and over, his hand slaps against your pussy, each blow precise and unrelenting. The sensation is overwhelming; it hurts so bad but also makes you even hornier, the pain blending seamlessly with the pleasure. Your clit, already sensitive, throbs with each hit, sending shockwaves through your body.

Orm's eyes never leave your face as he continues, watching every reaction, every wince, every moan that escapes your lips. His pupils are blown wide with desire, his cock straining against the constraints of his pants. He's getting a kick out of this -  watching you squirm and suffer and, worst of all, enjoy it.

He doesn't stop until you're reduced to a whimpering and shaking mess, your body trembling in the chains that hold you in place. Your pussy is raw, red, and swollen, every nerve ending singing with a mix of pain and pleasure. The once defiant fire in your eyes has dimmed, replaced with a hazy, submissive arousal that you can't control.

"That's better," he says finally, his voice a mix of satisfaction and dominance. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. He lifts your chin with a finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Now, are you ready to beg like the whore you are?"

You swallow hard, your throat dry. Part of you wants to defy him, to spit in his face and curse his name. But another part, the part that's throbbing with need and aching for release, wants to give in. You hate yourself for it, but the desire is there, undeniable and insistent. You're caught in his web, and he knows it. 

He's waiting, watching, his eyes daring you to defy him again.

You take a shaky breath, your body still trembling from the punishment. "I..." you start, your voice faltering. You can see the triumph in his eyes already, the cruel anticipation. "I won't beg," you manage to say, but even to your own ears, the words sound weak and unconvincing.

Orm's smirk widens, and he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Oh, you will," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for my touch, begging for release. You'll be begging to serve your true king."

His hand trails down your body, his touch both gentle and possessive. He knows exactly what he's doing, and you're powerless to stop him. You can only hope that somewhere, deep inside, you'll find the strength to resist him. But right now, as his fingers trail over your swollen, aching pussy, all you can think about is the pleasure and pain that he's promised, and the desperate, burning need for release that he's denied you.

You feel it throbbing, and you hate that you feel so close again. It's one thing to cum from him fingering you, but to cum by him beating the shit out of your poor, sensitive cunt? No. You don't want to give him that satisfaction.

But Orm seems determined to make you cum, or at least push you towards the edge, if the look of concentration on his face is any indication. His eyes are locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. He's studying every reaction, every twitch of your body, and using it against you.

"I can see it in your eyes," he murmurs, his voice low and menacing. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel how your body responds to me, how you can't help but want this."

He brings his hand down again, a sharp, stinging slap against your already throbbing pussy. Your body jerks involuntarily, a whimper escaping your lips. You bite down hard, trying to suppress the sounds, but it's no use. Your body betrays you, hips bucking slightly, seeking the friction even as you hate yourself for it.

"See?" Orm says, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet."

He slaps your pussy again, and again, alternating between sharp smacks and more deliberate, pressing touches. The mix of pain and pleasure is driving you mad, each slap sending jolts of sensation through your already overstimulated nerves. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal slick against his hand.

By the time you're close again, your mind is completely hazy. At that moment, you don't care that it's Orm, the man you hate. You just care about how good his fingers feel, how the sharp, rhythmic smacks are pushing you closer and closer to climax. Your legs shake, and you know that with his next move, you're going to cum.

But instead of letting you climax, he pinches your clit harshly and painfully, making you yelp and twist to get away from him. The pain is sharp, a cruel interruption to the pleasure you were so close to achieving.

"Only good girls get to cum, slut," he hisses, his hot breath against your ear. You didn't even notice him coming closer, so worked up and shaken by your once again ruined orgasm. Your clit throbs painfully, the denied pleasure leaving you frustrated and desperate.

Orm's voice is a low growl, filled with sadistic amusement. "Look at you, so needy. I told you I'd make you beg."

He steps back slightly, watching you with a satisfied smirk. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the denied release. You glare at him, defiance mingling with the haze of arousal in your eyes.

"I won't beg," you manage to say, though your voice wavers. "I won't give you the satisfaction."

Orm laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound. "Oh, you will. You're already so close. It won't take much more to break you."

He leaves wet kisses along your jaw until he reaches your mouth. You look into his dark blue eyes, filled with desire, as you feel his breath on your lips. His hands find their way into your hair, gripping it tightly.

Then he kisses you again, showing his dominance by slipping his tongue into your mouth and moving his lips against yours. You can't help but kiss back. This time, you don't bite, too worked up and too needy for him.

This time, you get to taste him properly, and gods, he tastes divine as he kisses you. His fingers, tangled in your locks, move towards your tits, and he starts to fondle them while he kisses you. He weighs your breasts in his hands, pinching and twisting the nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan into his mouth.

The sensation of his hands on your sensitive nipples sends electric jolts through your body. You arch into his touch, the pleasure mingling with the pain in a way that makes you crave more. He breaks the kiss briefly, looking into your eyes with a smirk.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Me playing with your tits?"

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as his fingers continue to tease your nipples. Your body betrays you, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

"Answer me," he commands, his voice firm but filled with desire.

"Yes," you whisper, unable to deny the truth. "I like it."

His smirk widens, and he leans in to kiss you again, more passionately this time. His hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazy with arousal and the need for more.

As his kisses travel down your neck, he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, leaving marks that will remind you of this moment long after it's over. His hands continue to knead your breasts, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Good girl," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Now, let's see how well you beg for more." 

With that, he kisses you again, your lips colliding in a passionate kiss as he trails his fingers over your bare skin.

His ministrations make you buck your hips, seeking friction, but he steps back and breaks the kiss, denying you the chance to grind on his hard cock straining against his pants.

"Ah ah ah," he murmurs between kisses, his voice deep, husky, and dominating. "You take what you are given and say thank you for that - nothing more."

You want to fight back, want to give him an earful, but you can't think straight. The sensation of his nimble fingers on your nipples and the throbbing of your overstimulated cunt are enough to haze your mind. You're caught in a whirlwind of pleasure and pain, your body betraying you at every turn.

"You're so desperate, aren't you?" he taunts, his fingers now tracing the curve of your waist, making you shiver. "Begging for it without even realising."

You bite back a retort, trying to gather your thoughts, but his touch is relentless. He circles your nipples with his thumbs, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you moan involuntarily.

Your needy, high-pitched moans and the rattling of the chains that bind you are the only sounds in the room. You never thought it possible, but he brings you closer and closer to the edge again just by playing with your tits. Your skin tingles under his touch, your nipples aching and oversensitive as he twists and pinches them with a sadistic glee.

You know you'd instantly cum if he were to just tap against your neglected cunt once, but he doesn't give you the satisfaction again. Instead, he pulls away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of an orgasm that never comes. You whimper in frustration, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.

Orm's smirk is infuriatingly smug as he watches you, his blue eyes dark with desire. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a dangerous purr. "So desperate, so needy. You can't even think straight, can you?"

You grit your teeth, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it's futile. Your body is betraying you, every nerve ending on fire, craving his touch. You hate how easily he can manipulate your responses, how he has you completely under his spell.

He steps back, circling you slowly, his eyes never leaving your form. "I could keep you like this forever," he muses, his tone contemplative. "Teasing you, denying you, watching you squirm. It's quite a sight."

You want to deny it, want to scream that he's wrong, but your body responds to him with a truth you can't ignore. The wetness between your legs, the way your nipples harden under his touch, and the way your hips arch towards him all betray your deepest desires. So you just stay quiet.

"Good girl," he murmurs, rewarding you with another searing kiss. "Let's see how well you can behave."

He steps back, leaving you feeling exposed and desperate for more. His eyes rake over your body, taking in every detail, every shiver, and every moan. You feel his gaze like a physical touch, adding to the arousal pooling in your core.

He steps closer again, his hand trailing down your stomach, teasing the edge of your panties. You tremble with anticipation, knowing that you're at his mercy, yet craving whatever he decides to give you. His fingers dip below the waistband, grazing your wet folds, and you can't help but moan, your body arching towards him, seeking relief, but he pulls his hand away, making you whimper in frustration. 

"No, no," he chides softly. "You don't get to cum until I say so. And you're not nearly desperate enough yet."

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how badly you want it," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you'd do for me, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider it."

"Please," you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it. You hate yourself for it, but you need his touch, need the release he's been denying you.

A triumphant smile spreads across his face. "There it is," he murmurs. "That's a good start, pet. But I want to hear you beg properly."

He withdraws his hand, leaving you aching and desperate. You know he won't give you what you need until you do as he says, and the realization makes you shiver. Taking a deep breath, you swallow your pride.

"Please," you say louder, your voice trembling with need. "Please, I need you."

"Good girl," he purrs, stepping closer and rewarding you with a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers return to your panties, slipping inside to find your aching clit. He rubs slow, teasing circles, making you whimper with need.

"That's it," he murmurs against your lips. "Beg for it, pet, and I might just give you what you want."

The way he pushes you to submit causes the haze in your mind to clear again a bit, the thick fog thinning out, making logical thought possible again. And the first and foremost thought is that you can't and won't let him win - it's bad enough already, considering how far he's pushed you already.

As if sensing your rising defiance again he withdraws his fingers from your aching, wet cunt and takes a few steps back, giving you the moment to look at him wholly again.

It's obvious that this is also taking a toll on him, his cock is probably painfully hard and you see how it's straining against his pants. Yet he's still fully clothed while you are completely naked, exposed, and vulnerable.

You're breathing heavily, your skin slick with sweat, and your entire body is overstimulated and needy. Your mind is clouded by denied pleasure, and you can't help the little unconscious whines and whimpers that escape your lips as you watch Orm.

His eyes are dark with lust as he pulls off the tight shirt he's wearing, revealing his muscular torso. The sight makes your cunt flutter around nothing, the need inside you intensifying.

He's delicious.

You watch the hard lines of his muscles, how his broad chest rises and falls with his deep breaths. You trace the defined ridges of his six-pack with your eyes, following the treasure trail that leads into his pants where his cock strains against the fabric, begging for release.

He lets out a husky laugh when he sees how you're eyeing him, a mix of amusement and satisfaction in his gaze. "Like what you see, pet?" he taunts, his voice low and rough. He steps closer again, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but nod, your body betraying your mind.

Orm's smirk widens, and he reaches for the waistband of his pants, slowly undoing the fastenings, drawing out the moment. Your eyes are glued to his hands, anticipation and need coiling tightly in your belly.

Finally, he pushes his pants down, freeing his cock.

It's thick and long, with prominent veins and a red, angry, wet head. It sits in a neatly trimmed nest of blonde hair, and the sight of it makes your heart race.

Your cunt clenches in response, desperate for him, for anything that might bring you relief.

He takes his dick in hand, stroking it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want this, don't you?" he asks, his voice a seductive purr. "Tell me how much you want it."

Your pride battles with your desire, but it's a losing fight. You're too far gone, too desperate to resist. "I want it," you breathe, your voice trembling with need. "I want you inside me. Please, Orm."

His smirk deepens, and he steps closer, the head of his cock brushing against your swollen, aching pussy. The touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you moan, your hips instinctively pushing towards him, seeking more.

"Oh no, you have to earn that privilege to be fucked by your king," his voice is teasing and he's clearly revelling in how far he's pushed you already.

With a swift motion, Orm finally loosens the chains binding you. The sudden release sends you collapsing to the floor, your knees hitting the cold stone tiles with a yelp. The chains rattle around you as you try to collect yourself, the shock and the overwhelming arousal clouding your mind.

By the time you manage to come to your senses, Orm is standing before you, his hard cock right in front of your face. 

You open your mouth to tell him off, but he shoves his dick in, making you gag and look up at him with wide, shocked eyes. The sheer size and force of it are overwhelming, and you struggle to breathe around him. He winks at you, grabbing your head and forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. 

You gag and splutter around it when he bottoms out, his heavy balls resting against your chin. He lets out a pleased growl, touching the bulge of his dick in your throat. "That's a good pet…taking my cock so well," he praises, as you choke and gag around him.

He holds your head firmly, controlling the pace as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust is brutal and unrelenting, driving deep into your throat, making you gag and choke. Tears stream down your face, but he shows no mercy, his pleasure evident in the way he uses you.

You try to push him away, your hands feebly pressing against his thighs, but the chains still limit your movement, and you are powerless to stop him. Your struggle only seems to excite him more, his cock hardening further as he watches you suffer.

He thrusts deeper, his balls slapping against your chin with each powerful movement. You feel spit pooling in your mouth and around his cock, dripping down your chin in a messy display of his dominance. Your vision blurs with tears, and black spots dance at the edges of your sight as your airway is repeatedly blocked.

He keeps it in until you feel like you're going to pass out. 

He hushes you, petting your head like you're a pet, keeping his cock lodged in your throat for a few more agonising seconds before starting to pull out. Relief is fleeting as he only pulls out until just the head is inside.

You take a few gasping breaths around his dick before he starts to fuck your mouth in earnest. His thrusts are rough and forceful, always ensuring to thrust deep into your throat, making you gag.

Orm's grip on your hair is unyielding, keeping you in place as he uses your mouth for his pleasure. You hear him groan, the sound vibrating through his body and into yours. "Just like that, whore," he praises, his voice rough."Let your king use your mouth."

Your mind is hazy, overwhelmed by the pain and lack of air. You try to relax your throat, to accommodate him better, but it's an almost impossible task. His thrusts grow more erratic, and you know he's close.

"Pet, I'm going to cum, and you're going to show me and then swallow," he groans. "That's an order from your king." 

Maybe you would have complied but the sentence and his just downright arrogant commant light a flame of defiance inside you again.

A few thrusts later, he pulls out until only the head is in your mouth and cums with a loud groan. The salty taste of his cum fills your mouth as it hits your tongue. 

He rides out his orgasm and milks his dick to ensure every last drop of cum has hit your tongue before pulling his cock from your mouth. 

Even flaccid, it's impressive, wet with your spit and his trimmed public hair glistening.

You gasp for breath, your throat raw and sore. You collapse to the floor, coughing and sputtering, feeling utterly defeated as Orm looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face. He kneels beside you, his hand caressing your cheek almost tenderly.

"Show me, pet," he commands, reaching down and caressing your cheek. Obediently, you open your mouth and show him the cum pooled on your tongue. He groans appreciatively. "Now swallow."

Instead of swallowing, you gather your strength and defiance, spitting his load out in a forceful motion. It hits the floor near his feet with a wet sound, and you feel a sense of satisfaction when you see his shocked face.

But then his face contorts in anger, and you are afraid. He's been angry and unforgiving, but now he looks like he means business.

"How dare you waste your king's cum," his voice is cold, his blue eyes icy. He steps forward and delivers a hard slap against your cheek.

You yelp at the force, pure pain blooming across your face. "I'm going to make you regret that." He steps away and strings you up with the chains again. You struggle against it, but his hold and everything about him is unforgiving. 

He secures you tightly, ensuring there's no room for movement, the chains biting into your wrists and ankles. "You're going to learn your place," he growls, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "And you're going to beg me to forgive you."

You hang there, breathless and terrified, as he steps away to fetch something from a nearby table. The room is silent except for your ragged breathing and the clinking of chains. When he returns, he holds his trident poised menacingly in his hands. 

The gold metal glints ominously in the light of the room, a stark contrast to the dark intent in his eyes. 

"You will learn respect," he says, his voice a dangerous whisper. He brings the trident close to your skin, teasing the sharp edges against your flesh. You flinch as the cold metal grazes you, leaving small, stinging cuts in its wake.

The first cut is shallow but painful, a thin line of blood welling up. He drags the trident slowly, deliberately, along your body, each new cut a sharp reminder of your vulnerability. "Do you understand now?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your defiance only brings you more pain."

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. The trident moves to your inner thigh, the sharp points biting into the sensitive skin there. You can't help but let out a gasp of pain, your body trembling in its bonds.

He smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with your suffering. "You will beg," he promises, his voice filled with dark certainty. "And when you do, it will be because you have no other choice."

He continues to torment you, the trident tracing a path of pain across your skin. Each cut feels like fire, your body tensing and shuddering with every new wound. You try to stay silent, to deny him the satisfaction of your cries, but it becomes increasingly difficult.

Finally, he pauses, looking at the trident and then at your trembling form. "Are you ready to submit?" he asks, his voice almost gentle, a cruel mockery of kindness.

You meet his gaze, your resolve wavering. The pain, the fear, the humiliation - all of it is overwhelming. But deep down, the defiance still burns. You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather the strength to resist just a little longer.

Seeing your hesitation, Orm's expression hardens. "Very well," he says, his tone icy. "If pain won't break you, perhaps pleasure will." He sets the trident aside and steps closer, his hand reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "I will make you beg for release," he vows, his eyes boring into yours with relentless intensity.

Without another word, he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his dominance clear and unyielding. His free hand moves to your body, fingers finding and pinching your nipples, reigniting the fire of arousal even through the haze of pain. The contrast of sensations is dizzying, your mind a chaotic mix of agony and desire.

You moan into his mouth, the sound half protest, half need. His touch is maddening, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, daring you to defy him. Your body is a trembling, aching mess, every nerve on fire. The urge to give in, to beg for the release he's withholding, is almost overwhelming.

But you hold on, just barely, a flicker of defiance still burning in your eyes. And Orm, seeing that last spark, smiles - a cold, predatory smile. "We'll see how long you last," he says, his voice a soft, sinister purr.

With that he turns the trident around, and your eyes widen in shock as you realise his intent. The blunt end of the weapon presses against your cunt, the cold metal an unwelcome intrusion. 

Without warning, he shoves it inside your wet and neglected pussy. 

Your body tenses, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure coursing through you. The sensation is overwhelming, the trident's unyielding surface stimulating you in a way you hadn't anticipated. You can't help the loud moan that escapes your lips, a raw, guttural sound that fills the room.

Orm moves the trident moves a harsh rhythm, fucking you mercilessly.

Your moans grow louder, uncontrollably echoing in the room despite yourself. Orm's eyes darken with satisfaction at your helpless reactions. He doesn't let up, the trident driving deeper with every thrust, each movement a reminder of his dominance over you. His eyes gleam with satisfaction at your reaction. 

He grabs the crest he ripped from you earlier; its fabric now a symbol of your degradation. "Open wide," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. 

You barely have time to comprehend his words before he stuffs the crest into your mouth, effectively gagging you.

The taste of the fabric is bitter, a stark reminder of your humiliation. Your muffled cries and moans reverberate in the small space, each sound a testament to your helplessness. Orm thrusts the trident inside you with relentless force, his movements calculated to bring you to the brink of ecstasy and pain.

Your body betrays you, responding to the brutal rhythm despite your mind's protest. The blunt end of the trident rubs against your most sensitive spots, sending waves of pleasure and pain through you. The combination is dizzying, and your mind is a haze of conflicting sensations.

Orm's grip on the trident tightens, his eyes never leaving your face. He watches every expression, every twitch of your muscles, relishing in your torment. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dripping with contempt. "A moaning, writhing mess, stuffed with your own crest. How fitting for a defiant little slut - silenced by what you once stood for."

Your body reacts despite your mind, hips bucking against the trident. The friction, the pain, the overwhelming sensations - all of it drives you closer to the edge. You try to bite down on the crest, to keep yourself from making any more sounds, but the pleasure is too intense. Muffled moans escape around the gag, and tears of frustration and arousal sting your eyes as he inches you closer to a climax you know he might deny again. The chains rattle with your every shudder, every attempt to writhe away from or into the sensation.

Orm watches you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, clearly enjoying your torment. "You see, pet, you can't fight what you truly are," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "A whore who enjoys being used, who craves the touch of her king."

He increases the pace, thrusting the trident harder and faster, each movement sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through your body. Your moans become more desperate, your body betraying you completely. The gag muffles your cries, but the sound is still there, echoing in the room.

Orm's free hand moves to your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple brutally. The added sensation pushes you even closer to the brink, your mind a hazy mess of pain and pleasure. You feel your climax building again, uncontrollable and inevitable.

"So close, so desperate. You want to cum, don't you? But remember, pet, only good girls get to cum." Orm taunts, his voice a harsh whisper. 

You glare at him, the defiance still flickering in your eyes, but it's weaker now, drowned out by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body and the number of times he's already edged you and denied your orgasm. 

He smirks at your struggle, clearly enjoying your torment.

"Are you ready to submit?" he asks, his voice a dangerous purr. He twists the trident slightly, changing the angle and making you cry out against the gag, your body arching in response. "Just give in, pet. Beg for it, and maybe I'll let you cum."

The cruel reminder of his earlier words sends a wave of frustration and anger through you, but it only heightens the pleasure. Your body is trembling, on the edge, and you know that if he stops now, the denial will be unbearable.

But just as you think he might relent, might finally let you have your release, he slows down, the trident moving in and out of you with agonising slowness. The pleasure recedes just enough to keep you from the edge, leaving you hanging in torturous anticipation.

Orm leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg for it," he whispers, his voice a dark, seductive command. "Beg your king to let you cum."

Despite everything, the words are on the tip of your tongue. The need is overwhelming, the humiliation almost a secondary concern now. But deep inside, the spark of defiance still burns, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Orm watches you struggle, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. "You will break, pet," he promises, his tone soft and lethal. 

His relentless assault with the trident continues, pushing you to the brink of orgasm over and over again but never letting you cross that line. 

The blunt end stretches and fills you, the rough movements making you gasp and moan against the spit-soaked crest gagging your mouth. Your body is trembling, muscles taut from the denied pleasure, and the room echoes with the wet, rhythmic sounds of the trident plunging into you.

Finally, he pulls it out with a wet noise, leaving you feeling empty and aching. 

He steps back, his eyes never leaving yours, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watches you struggle to regain your breath. With a swift, almost casual motion, he tugs the crest from your mouth, and you gasp for air, gulping down deep breaths.

Your mouth feels dry despite the saliva, and your is jaw sore from being stretched around the fabric. Your breaths come heavy and ragged, chest heaving as you look up at Orm. His gaze is dark, filled with a mix of lust and cruel amusement. He tosses the spit-soaked crest aside, his hand moving to his now hard cock, stroking it leisurely as he takes in the sight of you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Breathless, desperate, and yet still defiant." He steps closer, the head of his cock brushing against your swollen, throbbing entrance. "But I'm not done with you yet, pet."

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the raw power and dominance he exudes. Your body is hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with sensation, and the touch of his cock against you sends a shiver of anticipation and dread through you.

"Do you want it?" he asks, his tone mocking. "Do you want your king to fuck you, to make you cum?" His fingers trail down your cheek, the touch almost gentle but with an underlying threat.

You swallow hard, your throat dry and raw from the gag. Despite everything, the need is overwhelming, the ache inside you impossible to ignore. But that spark of defiance still burns, a last shred of resistance in the face of his cruel domination.

Orm's eyes narrow as he reads the conflict in your gaze. "Still holding out, are you?" he says, his voice a low growl. "Let's see how long that lasts."

He teases your swollen, throbbing entrance with the head of his cock, brushing against your most sensitive spots. The teasing alone sends jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body, and you can barely hold back the whimpers of need escaping your lips.

"You want this, don't you?" Orm's voice is a low, taunting growl."You're desperate for it."

You try to deny him, to keep some semblance of dignity, but your body betrays you. A whimper escapes your lips, and you can't help but push your hips towards him, seeking more.

"Pathetic," he murmurs, but there's a dark satisfaction in his eyes."Beg for it."

Your pride flares, but so does your need. "Please," you whisper, hating the tremble in your voice."Please, Orm."

"That's better," he says, a cruel smile curving his lips."But not good enough."

Then, without warning, he thrusts into you, filling you completely. The sudden, overwhelming sensation is too much; you cum instantly, a powerful orgasm ripping through you without any chance to resist. Your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shocked and breathless.

"There you go," Orm sneers, his voice a mix of triumph and lust. "Cumming so quickly like a desperate slut."

You can only moan in response, your body already trembling from the intensity of your release. Orm doesn't pause to let you recover. He fucks you hard and brutally, each thrust driving deeper inside you, hitting all the right spots with unerring accuracy. The force of his movements makes your chains rattle, your moans and cries filling the room as he pushes you to the brink over and over again.

"Do you like this, pet?" he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you like being used like this?"

"Yes," you gasp, barely able to form the words.

Your admission only spurs him on, his pace becoming even more relentless. Your body convulses with each orgasm, the pleasure blending with the pain of overstimulation until you can no longer tell them apart. Orm takes you relentlessly, his pace unyielding, and you lose track of how many times you cum, each climax leaving you more exhausted and overwhelmed than the last.

"You're nothing but a toy," he continues, his voice rough and dominating. "A plaything for your king. A hole to stuff and breed."

Finally, you reach a point where you're completely fucked out, your body limp and trembling, barely able to respond to his continued thrusts. Orm's grip on your hips tightens as he chases his own release, his cock throbbing inside you.

With a final, deep thrust, he cums inside you, filling you with his hot seed. The sensation of his cum spilling deep inside you triggers one last shuddering orgasm, your body clenching around him as he groans in satisfaction. He stays inside you for a moment, riding out the waves of his own pleasure before finally pulling out.

As he withdraws, you feel the thick, hot cum begin to drip from your gaping cunt, pooling on the cold floor beneath you. Your body is utterly spent, your mind a haze of exhaustion and lingering pleasure. Orm steps back, admiring the sight of you, thoroughly used and debauched, his seed leaking from you.

He looks down, his fingers tracing the marks he's left on your skin, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. "Completely ruined, just like a good pet should be."

You can barely muster a response, your body and mind too overwhelmed to do anything but breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Orm's presence looms over you, a constant reminder of his dominance and your utter submission.

"You'll remember this," he says, his tone softer but no less commanding. "Remember how easily I broke you."

A shiver runs through you, not just from the lingering pleasure but from the promise in his words. You know you'll never forget this, the way he took you, claimed you, and left you a trembling, satisfied mess.

"Now," he continues, standing tall and looking down at you with a mixture of pride and ownership. "Thank your king."

"Thank you, my king," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but sincere.

Orm's smile widens, pleased with your submission. "Good girl," he says, before turning and leaving you to recover, a satisfied smirk still playing on his lips.

You hang there, utterly spent, your body a trembling mess of exhaustion and lingering aftershocks of pleasure, so weak you would definitely fall to the floor if not for the chains holding you upright.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and through half-lidded eyes, you watch as Orm reaches for his discarded clothing. From a pocket, he pulls out a gleaming gold signet ring, intricately designed with the crest of his house.

He holds it up, letting the light catch on its polished surface, making the emblem shimmer ominously. "This," he says, his voice steady and commanding, "is my crest. The symbol of my power and my claim. From now on, it will mark you as mine."

You shiver at his words, a mixture of trepidation and curiosity stirring within you. Orm walks over to a small furnace burning in the corner of the room. He places the signet ring on a metal rod and holds it over the flames, heating it until it glows red-hot. 

Your eyes widen in horror as you realise his intentions. "No," you whisper, but your voice is weak, your body too drained to resist or protest effectively.

Orm returns to you, the heated ring glowing ominously. He gives you a cruel smile. "You will wear my mark, pet," he says, his tone final and unyielding.

He grabs your hip, forcing you to turn over and exposing your ass to him. The metal rod holding the ring hovers over your skin for a moment, the heat radiating off it palpable and terrifying. Without further hesitation, he presses the signet to your flesh.

The pain is immediate and searing. You scream, the sound echoing off the walls, your body bucking against the chains that still hold you in place. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, mingling with the remnants of your arousal. Tears stream down your face as the agony overwhelms you.

Orm keeps the ring pressed against you for a few more torturous seconds before pulling it away, satisfied. 

He steps back to admire his handiwork, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He watches you with an intensity that makes you shiver. Slowly, he reaches out and runs his fingers over the fresh, searing brand on your skin. The pain flares again, causing you to wince, but the touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutality you've just endured.

"Marked as mine", he murmurs, his voice a mix of pride and possession. "You're nothing but an animal now, a pet for your king - free to use and free to breed."

His words cut deep, piercing through the haze of exhaustion and lingering pleasure. You feel a profound sense of humiliation, of being reduced to nothing more than a branded possession. His touch, while gentle, is a stark reminder of the power he holds over you, a power that now feels absolute and inescapable.

You try to avert your eyes, but he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don't look away," he commands, his tone leaving no room for defiance. "You need to understand your place, pet."

Tears blur your vision as you look up at him, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable. Orm's expression softens slightly, but the underlying dominance remains. "You're mine now," he repeats, almost gently. "You will serve me, please me, and wear my mark with pride."

His fingers continue to trace the edges of the brand, the touch now more of a reminder than an infliction of pain. The symbol of his house, seared into your flesh, is a constant, throbbing reminder of your new reality. You are no longer just yourself; you are his property, his marked pet.

A mixture of emotions churns within you - fear, shame, and a strange, unwanted thrill at the intensity of his claim. The weight of the brand, both physical and symbolic, presses down on you, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

"But how will the people know who you belong to?" he muses aloud, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "We can't have you walking around with your ass exposed all the time, now can we? I have a better idea."

The fear in your eyes must be evident, but he pays no heed to it. With deliberate slowness, Orm reaches for his signet ring again and heats it over the furnace. The room feels stifling, the anticipation of what's to come making it hard to breathe.

He approaches you, and with a firm grip, he pushes you back against the cold stone floor. Your skin prickles in protest, but you are too weak and too bound to resist. He holds the red-hot signet just above your breast, the heat radiating from it causing your heart to race.

"Hold still," he commands, his voice devoid of any softness."This is important."

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you brace yourself for the inevitable pain. When the searing metal meets your flesh just above your breast, the agony is immediate and all-consuming - and somehow worse than the first time. 

Orm's eyes are fixed on the mark as he presses the signet firmly against your skin. He seems to take a grim satisfaction in your suffering, his gaze never wavering. The metal burns into your flesh, leaving the crest of his house as a permanent brand. He holds it there longer than necessary, ensuring the mark is deep and unmistakable.

"There," he says, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction."Now everyone will know who you belong to, even when you're clothed."

Tears stream down your face as you struggle to catch your breath, the pain throbbing with every heartbeat. Orm watches you, his fingers once again tracing the fresh brand, the touch almost gentle in its cruelty. Each contact sends waves of pain and humiliation through you, reinforcing the new reality of your situation.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his tone filled with possessive pride."You're truly mine now, marked for all to see. Everyone will know you exist solely as my whore and pet. Fit to use however and whenever I want."

Orm's voice softens as his fingers trail down from the brand to your breasts, groping them with a mixture of roughness and reverence."I can't wait until they swell with milk for my children," he continues, his tone taking on a sickeningly sweet quality."You're going to be my perfect broodmare. And until you're pregnant, I'll have fun breeding you as often as I can and then some more."

His grip on your breasts tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over your nipples."You'll learn to love it, pet," he whispers, his voice a dark promise."You'll learn to crave my touch, to beg for it. And when you finally give in, when you finally accept that you are mine completely, you'll find peace in your submission."

Orm's hands travel down your body, his touch lingering on the fresh brand over your breast. He admires his mark on you, a visible sign of his ownership."You're beautiful like this, you know," he murmurs."Marked, claimed, and filled with my seed."

Despite his harsh words and the pain he's inflicted, there's a strange tenderness in his actions now. He wipes away your tears with surprising gentleness, his fingers lingering on your cheek."You're mine," he whispers, almost as if reassuring himself."You've always been mine - my whore, my pet, my future queen. And I promise you one thing: you will never be empty again."

[beevean]

Rewatching NFCV with @woodchipp and @the-crow-binary has been miserable so far.

Not because of them, of course: we all need each other to bear the Peak. but holy shit I forgot how mindnumbingly boring the show is. it's way worse at a second watch because now I know how much it falls apart! We're only at S2E3 as of this post!

S1 is the best season, and even that is largely forgettable, especially S1E3 which wastes 22 minutes of my life to say "here's the bishop. he's proof that CHURCH BAD". But S1E1 may be the best or second best episode of the whole show thanks to Dracula and his performance... and isn't that sad, that the show peaks at the very beginning? The rest of the show is just... Trevor doing his stuff (while the framing mostly makes fun of him), talking, some fighting, and CHURCH BAD. As positives, I still like Trevor's mini-arc in this season, and the vague effort to be faithful to CV3 (Sypha being petrified by a cyclops, falling down a chasm to find Alucard).

S2 is terrible. Yes we're still less than halfway through. I already hate everything.

I hate Alucard becoming a legend to the point that the Wallachians name his Alucard (as in, Dracula's opposite) after only a year - why couldn't he name himself Alucard? Why complicate matters so much? Isaac calling him Alucard, and Dracula recognizing the name, makes absolutely no sense: how do they know about it? Dracula lost contact with his son one year ago and I doubt Wallachian human legends have reached him. And Isaac was in the Sahara until sometime after Lisa died!

I hate Alucard himself. He's a cunt. He does nothing but insult Trevor and the Belmonts without provocation, and it's not funny banter, he's mean! He's genuinely cruel! He hears that Trevor lost his family at 12, and he can only say "lol and lmao I had more of a childhood than you. anyway they were mentally ill and child killers, they sacrificed chickens and hoarded dead cats". And this piece of shit is the most popular character of the show??? he's not even pretty what are y'all seeing 😭

(it's also weird how he's all angsting about killing his vampire father, but he hates the Belmont for being vampire hunters. bro. bro you're also about to hunt a vampire. why are you defending a race of monsters so staunchly. not even a hint of, I don't know, a Belmont hurting him when he was a child because he was confused for a full vampire? Remember that logically, a vampire child is a child turned into a vampire, we have no other indication that dhampirs are running all around the world. I know that in the games he seems fully on board with "vampires bad and me bad for being half vampire", but you have the chance of making it better and you squander it?)

Sypha is also ruder than I remembered. I think she suddenly became more cheerful in S3 and that's why I liked her, but also girl, you keep criticizing Trevor for being rude and not consoling you, but you look at him with a perpetual resting bitch face and insult the Morning Star calling it an "ugly thing"? Why does Trevor even bother with the likes of you? How is Trephacard the most popular ship in the franchise?

I hate Isaac. Oh, I gave him the benefit of the doubt back then, because I really wanted to understand why he became the fan favorite. But now? No, I'm sorry, he's overrated as fuck. He's so damn pretentious, his speech about how he wants a pure world without love is terrible from the lens of him being a Muslim who is devoted to the Devil, and his backstory is so tryhard and historically inaccurate that I almost prefer Hector's past being exposed through voiceover.

Oh, and Hector, I hate his scenes. Because he's actually treated with dignity. He's fine! I actually like the guy! I like the scene where he rebukes Godbrand (who as a character only exists to attract infodumps and to question Dracula) because "I have to work" - he sounds actually proud of his role, if not even competent, perish the thought. Also by reading the scripts online I forgot that he was the one who yelled "you do not question my loyalty!". Which I like a lot? I can hear the real Hector protesting like that out of pride, even if in private he would admit that he disagrees with the bloodshed. And the scene where he soothes the newborn Night Creature... yeah, this character used to be written with respect, and knowing how he gets tortured and disrespected and used for rape apologism by a sex pest hurts even more. Also, in retrospect, the scene where he stares at the fire while reminiscing about the day he set fire on his own childhood home doesn't go anywhere, even as the finale of S3 echoes it :^)

And Dracula, oh my poor man Dracula. He's already being presented as an ineffectual depressed old man spending his time staring at a fireplace, who can't even command his presence in the war room, who allows Carmilla to insult him and Lisa in front of everyone - it's so embarrassing how he gets the Red Eyes of Fury and then he simply... lets her go after he gets the flimsy explanation of "yeah I humiliated you because everyone is asking themselves the same question. I wanted to help <3" girl (Dracula), she's a mere regional ruler, as she herself said??? why do you need her so much that you allow her to do this shit??????? oh but then you posture to godbrand, he gets to be threatened because... he's not relevant to the plot i guess. fucking pathetic. what have they done to my man.

(and I hate Carmilla. but that has never changed. annoying smug ass #girlboss with the charisma of spoiled seafood. her way of manipulating Hector isn't even manipulation, it's just her telling him very plainly what she wants him to do. She and Lenore utterly suck at their job, and they only get their way because muh plot)

And then there's the infodumping. Oh my god these people won't shut the fuck up. Godbrand is like "why should we listen to two humans?" and Dracula dumps twice that he trusts Hector and Isaac for their human nature (which, again, it's a decent reasoning, but it goes on and on and even they should know, I get it). Alucard dumps about the apocalyptic scenario where Dracula wins and rules over a world without humans... but he only describes it as we look into his ugly face, instead of doing something more creative like actually showing what would happen. Hector gets this random flashback-through-sound, shoved there as if Ellis didn't know where to put it in the script; later on he explains to Carmilla the origin of Night Creatures, as if ever remotely matters. Isaac dumps about his jihadist philosophy about how by killing humans he and Dracula will create a pure world. Carmilla randomly reveals her Tragic Backstory after kicking Godbrand down the stairs, another scene I can't stand because it's all about what a #queen she is and how she's better than Dracula. At one point they seriously discuss about the myth of vampires unable to cross running water, which is a moot point anyway because Carmilla resorts to using a zombie bishop to bless the river!! No I will never let it go!!!

(also I love that in the one occasion where Alucard has the chance of describing his childhood, he retells the tale of Lisa meeting Dracula, something we've already seen and he was also obviously told about, not something he experienced himself. They couldn't even come up with another anedocte to actually tell us what kind of mother Lisa used to be. so lazy)

This show is half people sitting in a circle and talking, and half average fight scenes. Yeah at this point not even those impress me anymore. I'm serious when I say that Knuckles' fight scene in Divergence, also animated by Powerhouse Animation Studios, is of a better quality than what the show has offered.

And this is why I'm so reluctant to watch Nocturne. If the best seasons of this highly acclaimed show are so painful to sit through, how are we going to survive a sequel series that not even the fans liked it as much?

[neiptune]

hiii how are you? :))

i finally could take the time to look through the prompt list and if it is okay i was thinking of yuuji + the prompt 'it’s been occurring to me i’d like to hang out with you for my whole life' + maybee if you're feeling it roommates trope?

sunshine boy just has been on the brain lately, i'm really excited to read all that you come up with! :)

yuuji itadori x it’s been occurring to me I’d like to hang out with you for my whole life

As the front door not so gently shuts, you interrupt your hunt for snacks through cabinets and cupboards and peek out from the kitchen doorway.

“So? How’d it go?” you raise your eyebrows expectantly, a pack of oreos ready to be slashed open in your hand.

Yuuji smiles awkwardly as he approaches you. He does that thing he does whenever he’s embarrassed: as a mild blush already creeping onto his cheeks, one hand rises up to his neck to nervously scratch it.

“T’was nice” he shrugs the question away as if it’s no big deal. However, the way he avoids your gaze tells you the deal is there and it’s not small either.

The pack of oreos is left on the counter, hunger forgotten as you cross your arms.

“Was she rude?” you’re already up in arms, scowl so deep he’d genuinely laugh if he wasn’t so desolated.

“She wasn’t”

“Pretentious? She demanded you paid? I mean, I know you’d do it anyway, but insisting on the first date…”

“No, really, it wasn’t—”

“She was late. Fuck, you even left early, I told you to take your t—”

“She stood me up”

Your mouth hangs open, brows furrowed in an incredulous frown. A few seconds of silence follow his words and Yuuji has to shrug again, in hopes of playing the absurd thing off as trivial.

“Maybe she had a setback” you want to be a good person and give this idiotic stranger the benefit of the doubt.

“Ah, not really. I saw her arrive at the restaurant. She looked at me, pretended not to see me and just left” he walks past you to reach over the counter and grab a clean glass. As he quietly pours himself some water, you can feel your blood pressure skyrocket by the second.

“Sorry, what did you just say?” you turn around in one swift motion “she stood you up intentionally?”

“It’s fine, really” Yuuji’s lips curl into a sweet smile, albeit a little self-conscious “maybe it’s the pink hair, you know. Or the flashy sneakers? Anyway, can’t be everyone’s type. It’s fine” he repeats and downs the water while you have to blink back a fury that has you seeing red because what. the. fuck.

He takes notice of your outraged expression and fails to hold back another smile as he leans against the counter.

“What about you? No plans tonight?”

But you cannot focus on his words. He’s left the house more than three hours ago, for a date that showed up only to leave. Which means he was probably too embarrassed to come back and has spent all this time alone, doing god knows what.

As a matter of fact, you do have plans. But you have no intention of going out, surely Nobara will understand. She always does, understand everything faster and better than you. She has ever since you’ve first met Yuuji anyway, her friend and probably the best roommate in the whole wide world.  

“Mug cake” you click your tongue and resume a hectic inspection of drawers, certain you still have some mix left somewhere.

“What?” he cocks his head, confused.

Victorious, you pull out what you were looking for from underneath cookie cutters and measuring cups.

“It’s so good! There’s only one left, you can have it” you know he’s looking at you, that’s why you avoid gentle eyes that would read everything there’s to read in yours. Anger, frustration, sadness. Not as attentive as he claims to be, he would mistake all those things for pity.

“Let’s share it?” the question is sheepish, a little awkwardness laced into his tone still. Your heart beats a little faster against your ribcage as you smile.

The cake is prepared in his favorite, microwave-safe mug. It takes less than two minutes for the chocolate greatness to be ready and you insist on adding shredded coconut and sprinkles as colorful as his hair and sneakers on top.

You sit together on the couch, cross-legged and facing each other. Yuuji holds the mug and both your spoons sink easily into the fluffy, moist dessert as you eat in comfortable silence.

“I really like this” he mutters and you have to resist the urge to run your thumb across his bottom lip to collect some stubborn chocolate remnants.

You hum instead, slowing down and reducing the size of each mouthful so that he can have more. Of course it escapes you, that he’s doing the same.

“Told you it’s good. How come we only have one left? Did I seriously eat the entire box?”

Yuuji chuckles.

“You did. In about two days, I believe” the only things vibrating in his tone are playfulness and gentle teasing. You heart swells with relief.

“I needed emotional support while…”

“Watching BNHA, I know” the sun rises and sets on his face as he finally gifts you that grin of his, the one that can make a difference between a good day and a bad day “but I didn’t mean that, although this stuff is amazing and I’m buying three boxes next time we go grocery shopping”

You let out an airy laugh. His eyes linger on you a second longer than usual before his gaze returns to the spoon scraping the bottom of his mug clean.

“I just meant that I like hanging out with you. I could easily do this forever”

“Forever?” your voice comes out strangled, surprise distorting your features and damn near trapping a piece of cake in your windpipe.

He hums.

“I just feel like I can’t even remember a time where I didn’t know you” another kind smile stretches his lips “I guess it’s been occurring to me, I’d like to hang out with you for my whole life if this is what it’s going to be like”

Yuuji takes in the way you stare back, more shocked than held off. He thinks he can work with that.

[eddiethehunted]

follow up on eddie being a dick and sometimes not caring, he's a metalhead like. no offense to metalheads I say this as someone who is ATTRACTED to metalheads so much, they are dicks. Like sure they look out for you in the pit but try to talk to one and I can literally feel their pretentious opinions leaking out before I finish saying my thought like sorry I've only listened to system of a down, yeah cause it was on the radio, I also formed my own opinion that I didn't like it on my own, I promise I thought about it, thanks. Anyway i think eddie 100% is in that culture and it all tracks, he will be annoying! And sometimes it's not cute! (Btw I'm not the og anon about steve and eddie being stubborn, i just also Have a Thought, Wanna Share)

tbh i think this is a bit of a sweeping generalization, i do know quite a few metalheads that are super chill and dont really give a fuck how much you know or don't know, and my stepdad was also a huge metalhead nerd back in the day and he's the same way. in any given group there's always a hefty portion of people that suffer from major elitism but it's not always all of them

BUT i do see where you're going with this and i like it lol i saw someone on here say that eddie is very much in his "im not like other girls, im different 💅🏼" phase and i think that sums it up pretty well.

also (as that post pointed out) he does sit in a literal THRONE and he's canonically bossy and makes judgy comments. ppl are multifaceted and you can have a good heart but still be a rude little jerk sometimes

i love him <3

[aphelea]

Hi hello i am here to scream about broken minds

What the fuck. August. Oh my fucking god ow what the fuck that hurt so much and it was fantastic.

The "this is why collective members can't date" line was so right. You know that black swan oath they had to make where they said they would value the good of the world over everything else? Something like that? I am a firm believer that Tiergan never really meant that oath because he would always prioritize Prentice above everything else. Prentice is more important to him than the black swan, which is very much against the rules of being in the collective, but Tiergan feels that way regardless. Might have more thoughts on this later but right now I am tired.

"You're an idiot, darling." Amazing. The most romantic line ever written. He would fucking say that.

And then Prentice made sure to memorize a letter to Tiergan and leave that as one of the last memories to stay intact? Holy shit? He cares so much and he's putting so much effort into making sure he gets to say a proper goodbye to someone he barely even remembers but knows he loves and jlkjlkjflksjdkghsdlkj

"I will love you all even when I cannot remember what love is." I don't know what it is about that line but it's so ough.

Tiergan deciding that he wouldn't mind having his mind broken as long as he got to stay with Prentice was amazing and you were so right for that but also. Ow. I am in pain, August. That was very rude of you.

Can't believe Forkle interrupted their moment. Homophobic :/ but also seriously what did he think was gonna happen if he brought Tiergan on the mission? That rock is gay. You're trying to rescue his gay lover. He is going to stop focusing on the mission and do gay shit. You should have expected this Forkle.

Also I very much liked your dialogue in this. Like yes it was pretentious but in a very endearing way and would it truly be an Arjun Gay Telepath fic if it didn't include pretentious dialogue?

Anyway. Thank you so much for writing this, I am going to be insane about it forever

S I’m. I’m smiling so hard right now thank you for this ask that’s probably longer than the whole fic shdjfhfhjfjf

I’m sensing a very Santi sort of loyalty to the Black Swan. Except the Black Swan are better than the Library. (Mostly.)

I’m a little bit obsessed with Prentice calling Tiergan “darling” and I tried to put it in wherever I could. Glad it worked as intended lol

I’m glad you liked the final line of the letter because that was my favourite to write!! I don’t know what it is about that line either but it’s just so. Ahhh

Tiergan would gladly Exile himself just to see Prentice one last time. It’s just a very him thing to do

No clue what Forkle was thinking. Maybe he thought they were straight. Maybe he wasn’t thinking at all. Either way, not his smartest moment

I’m glad you liked the dialogue!! This one is certainly a lot more pretentious than usual. Although you’re very right, it wouldn’t be a trademark Arjun Gay Telepath fic without pretentious dialogue. It’s just my thing at this point

I’m glad you liked the fic and in fact I will be going insane about this comment forever. Literally screaming you’re amazing for this :)

[tlacehualli]

@atrappedwolfwill

“Just DIE you-” The chair doesn’t collide with anything, its intended target leaping across the room too fast to properly see as the “insurance policy” puts in its work. It’s very much a good-news-bad-news situation, since, on the one hand, Sombra’s not being taken out at the shins by furniture moving at unsafe speeds. On the other hand, in the low light of the thermostat’s glow, Emily’s sickly-green illuminated expression has entirely slipped from the clearly (now, at least) performative fright.

Her eyes are still wide, but stammering placation has been completely supplanted by... something. It might be rage, it might be malice - it might still be fear, but the most directly relevant point is that it’s a terrible, violent emotion, and the hacker its sole recipient. For a moment, it’s unclear whether Emily hears her (or understands, or CARES to understand) when she yelps out the offer of a truce.

“If you want to talk, then TALK!” Then she lunges for the gun. Even if Sombra’s got a knife, or something, Emily would feel much better with a tool in her hand and she’s not about to cross the entire room to get at her handgun concealed under the edge of the counter. Late into the movement, Emily dives, hopefully coming up with the compact SMG.

"Well, now that's just rude. You would touch another woman's gun?" A teasing aspect slipped into her tone, just as Sombra slipped into invisibility and away. Fine. She could have the fucking gun. And she could almost hear the Widow in her head telling her that she was a fucking dumbass actually, except it was in an exceedingly pretentious French accent.

God she hated being friends with rich people.

She was in a corner of the living room now, cloaked and weighing her options. All she had on her now really was like a shitty little knife - well it was actually a nice knife 'cause the Widow never got her anything shitty but her skill with it was shitty so shitty it was - and it felt so fucking dumb. How do you break into someone's house and then get disarmed by a rolling pin? She wanted to die actually and you know what, tonight, she might.

The AI, as ever, was a little smug. 'I did tell you.' 'Shut the fuck up.'

Sombra slid a translocator underneath some piece of furniture or another - hard to tell in the dark and she wasn't gonna turn the fuckin' lights on about it - then translocated upstairs to let out a wee giggle.

"Calmate, you're never gonna catch me anyway. I mean, I can just buy another gun..."

[theawkwardsimmer]

"Listen, Jarvis. I have no money, and six kids. We need to do something about this relationship..."

"I know what you're saying...you wanna make beautiful music together."

"I can't believe I'm relying on this trash," Lily thought to herself as Jarvis went into the other room to pick up a crying Trevor...

"It's so sweet of you to babysit like this, by the way," Lily remarked as she sat down next to Jarvis. Jarvis was reflecting on how this is the first time he's even held this snotty brat since he was born.

He set the kid right back down. "Let's take a selfie, GIRLFRIEND," he declared.

Meanwhile, Cassidy is out with Gunther. And the man looks...thrilled.

"I don't know why you chose this place for a date, Gunny. There's not much to do here."

"But hey, we can talk! Do you like music?"

"Well, I do enjoy some types of music, but you probably wouldn't know it."

Hey, I got his attention!

"I'm really good at guitar, you know. Maybe I could teach you..."

"Guitar? I don't know about that," Gunther said, rudely pulling out his phone.

"Do you do anything worthwhile? Do you read?"

"Sure I do. Right now I'm reading this book, it's called I Know Who You Did Last Summer. It's real steamy and..."

"Are you kidding me? Tell me you're joking!"

"I was wondering if you read the classics, like The Great Gitsby or The Wizard of Booze...not.."

"That filthy smut trash!"

"How dare you judge me!"

"So you think you're fancy in your little hat?"

"At least I don't live in filth and squalor!"

"At least I have a real job! What do you do? Take pictures of coffee sitting on a fence?"

"Why don't you get on a fucking plane, and go right back where you came from?!"

"I don't know why I ever agreed to go out on a date with someone like you! You are so far beneath me! GOODBYE!"

As Gunther walked away, Cassidy glared daggers at him. Who needs a pretentious rich guy, anyway? She was angry. She was angry at Gunther for being such a douchebag. But she was also angry at herself. She was failing Trevor and she knew it. How would she ever take care of him? Would she ever be able to give him a dad?

[null-whump]

Whumptober Sneak Peek!

I've been planning this project for several months now, and I've been outlining a plot to go along with whumptober prompts since they were released. I'm so so excited to be writing in a completely different genre (sci-fi/cyberpunk) and even if I don't manage to post every day in October, I'm hopeful that I'll be able to get everything out there eventually! (fingers crossed). I've put a prologue/preview under the cut, and if you're interested in seeing more and want to be on a tag list when October comes around, just let me know! I can't wait! :)

No major warnings for this one.

-----------------

> Project Echolocation // Report #1

> Agent 2374 // status>unspecified // location>confidential

My first three days have been largely uneventful. My initial ‘induction’ consisted of various background checks and security screenings. I have been told that I will not be permitted to access any resources or information above public access until I pass each individual screening. They are consistently paranoid, if nothing else. I am confident they will not overturn anything of note; from what I have seen of their technology, they only have the capability to scratch the surface. Perhaps the screenings will become more extensive when I progress further into their ranks.

As of writing this report, the highest-ranking member of this organization that I have made contact with is a level-3 man known only as ‘Grim’. He seems to be nothing more than a lackey, one of the many level-3s in charge of keeping an eye on new recruits and showing them their place. He is followed around by another man, ‘Sol’, who I have yet to learn the rank of – likely another level-3. Sol seems even less a threat than Grim, as Sol is a mute who cannot speak to anyone not fluent in sign without Grim’s assistance. This is probably why the two are inseparable.

I have yet to be assigned a sector. Once I am, I hope to advance quickly to a level-2. I have glimpsed the ‘Leader’ once, and only briefly. My only information about any of the inner circle comes from chattering I hear among level-1s and 2s. It is largely inane gossip. Everything I hear about the Speaker is contradictory and unsubstantial. I can confirm our original suspicions that it will take a long time for me to complete our objective. Nevertheless, I am confident that we will reach the end goal in time.

<End Report>

-----------

> New Recruit 5579 // Progress Report #1

> Grim (Sol assist)

The new recruit goes by ‘Cent’ – no last name provided. So far, he seems like a decent guy. Friendly enough, though a bit wary of everyone around him. I don’t like the way he was treating Sol - I don’t expect anyone reading this report to think I’m not overreacting, but I’ll say it anyway. He’s dismissive and rude and downright pretentious whenever he’s around Sol. Acts like Sol doesn’t even exist. But hey, maybe that’ll change. Don’t ever say I didn’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Cent does seem like a genuine person, so there’s that. He just has some issues to work through.

I’d recommend him for the tech sector; I saw how he acted during his screenings, and he seems highly experienced. Possibly a bit too experienced; I would advise high surveillance and additional screenings before moving him to a level-2. Don’t let him work tech alone.

<End Report>

-----------

> New Recruit 5579 // Progress Report #1

> Sol (Grim assist)

The new recruit, ‘Cent’, is a self-absorbed prick who can’t be bothered to see past the end of his own nose. His name certainly fits him because he isn’t worth jack shit. I have some questions for whoever let him past the front gates, because they clearly weren’t paying attention. If it were up to me, I would lock him as a level-one at most, and that’s being generous. I don’t know if he’s an infiltrator of if he’s just fucking annoying but frankly, I don’t care. Don’t let him anywhere near the tech sector unless you want to get hacked or have your funds drained or be hit with a virus, or all of the above. He definitely knows his way around tech, and I do not mean that as a compliment.

Grim is reading this over my shoulder and says I’m being too harsh. Yes, Grim, I am aware that I’ve only spent three days around the man, and that was more than enough, thank you. If you insist on keeping Cent around, at the very least don’t let him past level-2. Just keep him away from me.

<End Report>

[liinos]

there aren’t many people I’d legit fight but this one kid.... on SIGHT

[punkscowardschampions]

Grace & Janis

Grace: UGH Grace: tell me your secrets Grace: this boy will NOT take a hint 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: My secrets on repelling lads? Charming 😏 Grace: OMG I meant on getting people to leave you alone Grace: but if you do have any obvs Grace: 😂 Janis: Being real mean and telling 'em to fuck off usually works Janis: but not always case in point ☝ Grace: It's like he thinks it's a challenge now Grace: Like NO Janis: Love a challenge Janis: don't tell Mia Janis: do you not rate him at all or what? Grace: idk it's not that Grace: there's just TOO MUCH build up at this point Grace: he's highkey Janis: You reckon you ain't gonna meet expectation then, I get it Janis: just 'cos he wants it don't mean you gotta, you know Janis: can still get what you want out of it though Grace: if he tells everyone that I can't I'll have to kms Grace: boys talk too, remember? Janis: Yeah but who cares Grace: UM ME OBVS Grace: now he thinks I'm like playing hard to get Grace: not hard to want Janis: Just bite the bullet and do it then Janis: if it's shit you can blame him Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: oh please! who do I have in my corner rn? Grace: can't work the narrative on my own Grace: just tell me what to say so he'll FINALLY get the message Grace: like I'm too good for him or something Grace: you always do that Janis: Why not? Her word ain't law no matter what she reckons, you know Janis: Assumedly unless he's so un-you-type that he's a decent lad Janis: Who is he, does he go to our School Grace: he's from some posh school that Mia didn't get into Grace: but she knows him Grace: FOCUS Janis Janis: ew Janis: he's probably a snob anyway Janis: and it don't matter what he's chatting to his mates Janis: you're sure Mia isn't like Janis: setting you up here or Grace: OMG Grace: what if she is Grace: he's like WAY persistent Grace: 😱😱😱 Janis: Didn't wanna be that bitch but Janis: she is Janis: all the more reason to a. not fuck him b. have a good time and leave him wishing you would Grace: DUH Grace: but like I said expectations are soooooooooooooo OTT Grace: idk Janis: so? Janis: you can do it Janis: boys are easily impressed Janis: lbr Grace: what if he IS a snob tho!? Grace: 🤔🤔🤔 Janis: We're rich Janis: he don't need to know the specifics Janis: know how to behave, have to deal with Ri and Buster so Grace: true he's soooo Grace: ugh Grace: still, NEED to shop if this is happening Grace: this is what I mean, such an EVENT Grace: & if I'm not even gonna shag him LIKE 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: The amount of clothes you have Janis: really Grace: don't start Grace: do I have clothes to snare a posh boy?! Think not Grace: If I've worn it before I LITERALLY CAN'T Grace: I'm telling you he's EXTRA Grace: trying to impress here Janis: 🙄 Janis: Well let's not act like it's a hardship, any excuse to shop with you Janis: so go for it Grace: UM rude Janis: 😂 Come on Janis: you should have a share in Topshop at this point Grace: If I did I wouldn't need to impress any lads 💸💸💸 Janis: 'Course Janis: forgot you were in it for the 💰 Grace: Excuse you, not Ri Grace: wish she was here tho Janis: Sure she can spare time to facetime you if nowt else Grace: you'd think Grace: ugh Grace: this family, only around when you don't want them Grace: so typical Janis: Preaching to the choir Grace: did mum & dad catch barista boy the other night?? Grace: assuming not as you haven't died of shame Grace: sooooooooo cringe Janis: Don't think so Janis: Not that I was trying to sneak, just don't want them to chat to him Janis: or me, for that matter Grace: OMG dad would try & feed him Grace: LET IT GO Janis: Don't Janis: I have to have dinner with his family, and his Dad's girlfriend Grace: 😱😱😱 Grace: next level cringe Janis: Yeah Janis: idc about the kids they're cool but Grace: his little brother is sooooooooooo cute 😍😍 Grace: & not to be a bitch but better at art than your bf Janis: 😂 Janis: alright go on a date with him Grace: if I was 6 I would Janis: You weirdo Janis: 😏 Grace: whatever he's adorable shhh Grace: Asia's little brother is 👾 like actually soooooooo mean Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: Know the feeling, babe Grace: bitch don't be calling me out Grace: I'm so nice Janis: 😏 Janis: so self-centred, you know there's 10 of us Janis: could be talking about any one of yous Janis: talking 'bout you all, as it goes but Grace: you're the mean one 👌👌👌 Grace: are you still gonna help me with my OOTD or not? Janis: Never Janis: so shocking you would suggest that Janis: yeah, go on then Grace: don't be a bitch when I spam you with dressing room selfies Grace: the lighting is literally designed to make us wanna kill ourselves Janis: 🐸🍵 Janis: hot take Grace: 🐸 to 👸 🤞 Janis: Don't be tryna lips the sales assistant Janis: she don't get paid enough for that Grace: if I'm not getting any from my date Janis: 🙄 called that in the air Janis: no need to have that many sleepovers Grace: 😂 Grace: Mia obvs would have invited you babes if that was true Janis: 🤢 it's gross 'cos it's true Grace: should we throw her a coming out party or?? Grace: It is pride month Grace: before you know it Janis: 😂 Bitch I wish you would Grace: if I knew that was all it would take for you to like me Grace: 💔💔💔 Janis: What, dragging that bitch? No duh Janis: You been knew Grace: she's the only one who thinks being gay is a drag Grace: idk why even Grace: I'd love that, boys are the WORST Janis: 💔 Janis: The tragedy that is hetrosexuality Grace: I know, right? Grace: so unfair Grace: but like I'd just be worried that the girl is hotter than me the whole time anyway so Janis: 😂 Janis: Looks like you can't win, babe Grace: Truly Grace: [sends first potential outfit] Grace: 😱😱😱 LOOK at this! UGH I wanna die Janis: It isn't that bad, calm down Janis: the colour is a bit Janis: though, so yeah, keep looking Grace: No way this assistant is getting 💋 now thank you Grace: you're more help & that's Grace: just weird Janis: not working on commission Janis: though I should charge Grace: IOU Grace: whenever Janis: Whatever Janis: nbd Grace: I'm serious, not THAT much of a bitch Grace: [sends outfit option 2] Grace: OMG!! HOW ARE THEY GETTING WORSE! Grace: 🤢🤢🤢 Janis: Nah, don't even bother to hang that back up Janis: why are they selling that Grace: gonna have to be ✂ out & buy it anyway Grace: 😭😭😭 Grace: who it is for? cos I DON'T know her? Janis: Don't be stupid Janis: you're just flapping Janis: get your woman to help Grace: sure cos she's been sooooo helpful so far Grace: this is the worst day of my actual life Janis: 🙄 Janis: get your arse outta that and into something decent 'fore I have time to address that please Grace: [outfit 3 cos we know you ain't stuck bitch calm down] Janis: That's better Janis: it's a decent fit Janis: not slag short but you don't look like a nun either Grace: yeah but it needs to be 🔥 not just better than the worst this shop has to offer Grace: so what's bad about it? Grace: Gotta improve Janis: Not crazy about that Janis: idk what you'd call it Janis: but the frilly hem Janis: bit cutesy Grace: 👌👌👌 Grace: same Grace: not a mood Janis: Will they ever stop bringing the 90s back Janis: the real question Grace: IKR Grace: over it Grace: never was about it but like go off Grace: OMG he's sent me the place we're going, search it for me to check I won't get thrown out for looking like a slag Grace: [sends deets] Janis: Bit fancy for a usual teenage lad but nothing too pretentious you gonna get kicked out Janis: You can deal Grace: so like???!! Grace: [outfit 4] Janis: Grace, that isn't the right size Janis: it's 10x too big for you Grace: Are you even looking at the same picture as me?! Janis: Yes bitch Janis: it has potential but you need the size down at least Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: 👌 wait Grace: [take 2] Janis: Way better Janis: can actually see you have a body Grace: I s2g if you're trolling me rn Grace: I will kill you Janis: I ain't, that's how it's meant to look Janis: not 2 foot of extra material Grace: I don't wanna do this Grace: no offense Grace: not this specifically Grace: just ugh Janis: Why not Grace: idk I haven't been to the gym in FOREVER Grace: & none of this is working either Janis: so you feel shit Janis: what's a better way to feel better about yourself than having a boy all 😍 and Mia all 😡 Grace: but what if it goes wrong Grace: I haven't been on a date date for ages either Grace: & not to like Grace: wherever this is Grace: like excuse me while I load up a tutorial about which fork to use when 🙄🙄 Janis: It won't Janis: you're chatty, you're the nice one Janis: unless he's really boring or a dick then like Janis: that's on him Janis: if anyone is suited to dates, it's you Grace: Oh please Grace: anyone can be chatty & nice when they want a boy to get off with them at a party Grace: even you Janis: Yeah? Why didn't I then Janis: Massive virgin you reckon Grace: duh cos you don't want to Grace: waiting on your rom-com moment with barista boy obvs Janis: 😑 piss off Grace: it's not shade babes Grace: it's like the opposite Janis: It's you that likes rom-coms, not me Grace: everyone's jealous for a reason tho Grace: not saying I am cos EW Grace: kms Janis: Nice save Grace: OMG shut up Grace: you know what I mean Janis: Whatever Janis: not trying to make you jealous Grace: I'm just saying Grace: he's actually a decent boy & he likes you & knows how to treat you Grace: how often is that happening around here? Janis: not with the lads you like Janis: not all of 'em are cunts Grace: CAN YOU NOT Grace: so rude to me Janis: it's not, it's your taste Grace: OMG didn't open my mouth to be attacked Grace: thank you Janis: 🙄 calm down Grace: you first Grace: you're so mean literally ALL the time Janis: Not telling you exactly what you wanna hear isn't mean, Mia Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: whatever Grace: this was a bad idea Janis: You're so dramatic Grace: and? Grace: we've established you want me to change my entire personality Grace: get over it Janis: I don't give a shit Janis: I said you should Janis: then you wouldn't be 😭 all the time Grace: you have no idea Janis: Mhmm Janis: your struggle is so unique and complex Grace: no, but it's mine & you don't want any part in it so don't comment Janis: Nah Janis: I can do what I want Grace: yeah exactly Grace: it's so easy for you Janis: 🙄 Janis: sure Grace: I am Grace: I'd love not to care, babes Grace: such a mood Janis: then grow a pair and do it Grace: I can't Grace: I'm not you Janis: Not a requirement Grace: isn't it? Grace: if I put in as much effort or lack of as you, no boys would be falling in love with me Grace: trust Grace: they don't now Janis: you can't control other people, that's why Grace: I can't control what I look like either Janis: well you do so Janis: lie Grace: no I don't Grace: I have to be so extra to get anyone to pay attention to me Grace: you don't, you never would Janis: It's not a comparison to be made Janis: look at where you're looking to get attention from, like I said Grace: THAT'S the lie Grace: I'm compared to every sister we've got Grace: especially you Janis: and I'm not? Janis: People are dicks Grace: it just matters Grace: like it or not Grace: so I have to care about it Janis: Why Janis: you think you're gonna suddenly be hotter than Ri or a model like Billie 'cos you try Janis: that won't happen and people are still gonna chat Grace: so what I let myself be a 2 cos I can't be a 10? Grace: Like I wanna be alone forever Janis: People like what they like, you can't control it Janis: if you felt like a 10, it'd be irrelevant Grace: well I don't so it's not Janis: aren't you bored Grace: do you care? Janis: asked didn't I Grace: Like that means anything Grace: I asked you for help it doesn't mean it'll save my date disaster Janis: 🙄 Sod you then Grace: sure Janis: 👌 Grace: thanks for the help Grace: wasn't like a totally tragic attempt Janis: Like I care Janis: you try so hard you should have it figured out by now Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: Bye then Janis: have fun on your date Grace: I'll try Grace: obvs Janis: Got to stay true to type Grace: exactly Janis: go with the last one you tried on Janis: welcome Grace: The search continues Grace: stopping at like 4 lacklustre outfits? UM NO Janis: yeah how crazy not to waste another 4 hours having emotional breakdowns in a changing room Grace: how crazy to bother going on this date at all if I'm not bringing it Grace: bitch please Janis: so pick 4 Grace: it's not good enough Grace: need a jaw dropping moment duh Janis: 🙄 Grace: I don't need anymore help don't do yourself an injury Janis: yeah you do Janis: call one of your friend Grace: No I don't Grace: rude bitch Janis: found an outfit then? no Grace: I can do it Grace: I'm not that tragic Janis: 👌 Grace: such 🔥 advice from you, babes Grace: that's the secret Janis: You said it yourself, I don't need to try Janis: boohoo Grace: duh why I asked Grace: if I was gonna ask my friends I could just ask myself Grace: 🙄🙄 Janis: Well you ain't listening and apparently can't 'cos you ain't me so how did you think it'd work Grace: I am listening I'm just choosing to ignore you Grace: cos I don't trust you Janis: well then why waste both our time asking Grace: IDK Grace: I thought maybe you'd hold off being a judgey bitch for long enough Janis: Oh fuck off Janis: You're literally asking for judgment Janis: and I gave it you Grace: of the clothes not EVERYTHING else Grace: I feel bad enough thank you Janis: I haven't said shit Janis: it's you Grace: you're always shading me Grace: check back in with yourself & this convo Grace: not even passive aggressive just aggressive Janis: I said you had shit taste in men and friends, which is true Janis: and that's all I've said so jog on Grace: no, you're making fun of me for trying when I literally told you I have to Janis: No, I'm not Janis: you're saying how hard it is so I'm telling you to not Janis: ask why that bothers you so much Grace: if it wasn't hard I wouldn't have to, would I? Grace: I'd just be walking around #effortless like you Grace: you acting like crying in a dressing room is such a big joke bothers me Janis: You can, literally you are the only person stopping yourself Janis: If being you is harder than all this effort then you've got bigger problems than what dress to wear on this date Grace: I'm aware Grace: but one thing at a time, hun Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: Priorities, Grace Grace: oh excuse me Grace: I'll just put everything on hold while I address being me 👌👌 Janis: well bitch Janis: what is your excuse Janis: just do it before you're 40 your midlife crisis would be tragic Grace: 😂😂😂 Grace: best advice yet obvs Grace: maybe you should charge, babes Janis: That's the plan Janis: you owe me, remember Grace: & you're taking it in 💸 yeah? weird flex but sure Janis: what else have you got Janis: don't look enough alike I can force you to go to this dinner so Grace: You could literally make me do ANYTHING & that's what you're going with? Grace: Having a bf has obvs changed you Grace: real tragedy Janis: Clearly not as mean as you reckon Janis: gutted Grace: for you, you had being a savage going for you at least Janis: Mhmm Janis: one moment I'm #effortless the next I've got nowt Janis: give it up, kid Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: didn't say that Grace: also am literally older than you, bitch Janis: what are you saying Janis: you don't make no sense, babe Grace: your looks are effortless, your personality needs work Grace: but nothing is going too far Grace: you're got an IOU Grace: & the barista whose speech you're stealing now like Janis: Go me Janis: 👏 Grace: mhmmm Janis: Poor Gracie Janis: enough cafes about, do a crawl, get you your own Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: & I'm not listening to you, sure Grace: that'll solve all my problems rn thanks so much Grace: I don't wanna go on the date I agreed to Janis: Only 'cos you're nervous Janis: you aren't sworn off of dick are you Grace: you told me not to shag him Grace: so not the point Janis: You aren't on a ban Janis: just not him in case Mia is scheming Grace: you don't know what self imposed rules I'm living by Janis: 😂 Really Grace: Better story than nobody being interested Grace: schemes aside Janis: 🙄 come off it Grace: Oh sorry are you not living for my honesty Janis: you said it, anyone can get lads to get off with them Janis: so that ain't what you want either Grace: I also told you it's been ages Grace: & never said that's what I want anyway Janis: well you ain't forgot, like Grace: 😂😂😂 Grace: what it's like to have an actual boyfriend maybe Janis: maybe Janis: like he's maybe several squirrels in a boy suit Grace: You're so weird Grace: what am I meant to do with that Janis: Says you Janis: You've had boyfriends, ain't you, like, what do you mean Grace: not really Janis: ? Grace: I've had boys Grace: sometimes they wanna get off with me more than once Grace: I'm not going to family dinners Grace: I'm not even #official Janis: Oh Janis: Okay Janis: well I'm just going to this dinner to piss off his Dad so like Janis: but I don't know Janis: it's Janis: nice Grace: Well you'll be amazing at that Grace: what's his dad's thing? Grace: why he so idk Janis: 👍🖕 cheers, bitch Janis: He don't like me but he's just a moody twat in general Grace: you should play the race card at dinner Grace: that'll really get to him Janis: 😂 Janis: Probably ain't looked at me long enough to notice Grace: it'll make him uncomfortable anyway Grace: I get comments on my vids all the time Janis: Idk why you keep doing it Grace: obvs Grace: you don't know anything about me Janis: 🙄 Janis: it wasn't a read Janis: I'm just saying Janis: all the trolling you get Grace: I'm just saying Grace: It's a fact Grace: we don't know each other Grace: another reason I asked for your help before, duh Janis: How's that make sense Grace: what do you even mean? Janis: How'd you reckon I could help you if I don't know you, is what I mean Grace: cos I'm not trying to be myself Grace: so you don't need to Grace: get in, make him want me, get out Grace: but not the real me, just whoever he wants me to be Grace: or thinks I am already whatever Janis: It would help if I knew him, or you did Janis: not all boys like one look Janis: contrary to what you might think Grace: I know enough Grace: & I know the kind of boys Mia is 'friends' with Grace: I'm not as stupid as you think Janis: then why do you need my help Janis: Jesus Grace: I didn't need it Grace: I just wanted it Grace: like I said, I've got no backup Janis: have you tried on any more or what Janis: what are you even doing Grace: I'm in a different shop Grace: excuse you Janis: Oh God Janis: Are you gonna be this unbearable if I come find you? Grace: I can go harder, bitch Grace: Is this a test? Grace: this one's got more potential Grace: so not sorry Janis: Shut up, do you want me to come or nah Grace: not really Grace: can't mute you in person Janis: Fuck you then Grace: Like you said, I feel shit Grace: do I need you adding to it? 🤔 Janis: I was coming to help 'cos I felt sorry for you but literally get to fuck Grace: yeah your pity is really gonna help Grace: I'd rather die Janis: FYI then, you're coming on strong with the sobstory Janis: not a mood Grace: thanks Janis: 👋 Grace: 💋 Grace: [later] Grace: my phone's dying tell mum & dad where I am so they don't get extra Janis: Alright Janis: another IOU though Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: whatever Grace: I've got money so Grace: haven't shopped THAT hard Janis: Nah Janis: like I ain't gonna rise to the challenge Janis: HATE to disappoint Grace: awkward considering how often you do it Grace: but sure Janis: Whatever you say 😏 Grace: Mia's still walking around being THAT bitch so yeah Grace: disappointed™️ Janis: sounds a bit like you want me to murder her...? Grace: 😂 Grace: better idea Grace: come with me Janis: Twin murder Janis: someone's got to have beat us to that 👯 Grace: UM HELLO!? I'm being serious Grace: come on the date with me & she'll die Janis: 🤔 Janis: Hmm Grace: you know I'm right Grace: you don't even have to have a good time as long as the #s say you do Grace: not like I'm seeing this boy again you can literally leave after pics Janis: Yeah, alright Janis: I'll ask Jim, as long as he ain't busy then why not Grace: yay! Grace: 👌👌👌 Grace: persuade him babes Janis: Sometimes he has to look after his sibs it's not that easy but I'm asking Grace: tell him I'll take a shift Grace: I'm an amazing babysitter Janis: dope, you gotta come on your own date 😂 Grace: I mean as an IOU like Grace: so you two can go on one that you actually wanna Grace: 💖💖 Janis: I'll throw that out too Janis: Yeah, he'll do it Grace: OMG Grace: yay Grace: wear something she'll hate Janis: Know I said it weren't that posh but reckon trackies are a no-go Janis: but she hates everything I do so not hard still Grace: duh just look 🔥🔥🔥 Grace: she thinks you can't Janis: Yeah right Janis: 👌🍆 Janis: established Grace: don't be borrowing any of my clothes to do it bitch, I saw that! Janis: Don't worry, I won't 😂 Grace: HOW DARE Grace: that dress was in reach of you for a reason Grace: not like it's my fave Janis: Should hope not Janis: it got the job done Grace: I'm not wearing it on the date so chill Grace: or like EVER now you have Janis: 🙄 Janis: I'm not diseased Grace: bitch you 'grammed it Grace: do you wanna share clothes with me? I think not Janis: Technically I didn't Janis: 🤷 Grace: It's still there Grace: we aren't 6, not a mood Janis: 💔 Janis: Turn it into curtains then Janis: switch it up Grace: You're so weird Grace: not that kind of youtuber thanks Janis: like you've not seen the sound of music Grace: Indie & Ri made me Grace: 🙄 Janis: 👌 you loved it Grace: shut up Grace: I did not Grace: soooooooooo cringe Janis: you loved any time they'd let you hang Grace: glad my phone's about to die if you're going back to being a bitch Janis: oh hush Janis: got the place, give us the time then Grace: be there at 8 Grace: we don't need to go together Janis: would feel a bit ganged up on Janis: poor lad Janis: you can have drinks first, I know to be fashionably late Grace: thank god Grace: I'll need them Grace: he's so Janis: so? Grace: ugh idk so MUCH Grace: the ego is like Grace: I can't Janis: sounds like a keeper Janis: whatever Janis: had worse night's out for less, yeah? Grace: IKR Grace: 🙄 whatever I'm focused Grace: he thinks I'm gonna be all 😍😍😍 that'll be you boy Janis: 👍 Janis: exactly Grace: OMG what should I drink? Drunk is not the mood Janis: Yeah, go easy Janis: just like rose or some shit Grace: champagne 'cause he's rich Grace: it doesn't taste nice so Grace: not gonna be wild Janis: as long as there's water at the table Janis: so dry Grace: & as long as he's paying Grace: no way I am Grace: sorry about it ladies but this isn't a typical date night Janis: 😶 Janis: secret's safe with me Grace: tell the barista Grace: if anything's on the 'gram that ruins me I'm gonna murder him Janis: 😂 Janis: don't get your bad side, got it Grace: girl please, for that night only I don't have one Janis: That's the attitude Janis: if he's paying got more funds to go all out Grace: I hope it's not actually too expensive if you have to Grace: Mia's not worth THAT much Janis: Nah, I checked Janis: he's not going that hard Grace: Phew Grace: last thing I need is his entitlement 🙄 Janis: Obvs Daddy's spends aren't going that far Grace: how embarrassing Janis: all sorted then? Grace: sure Janis: in a bit then Grace: 😘