#loathing is about confused attraction

[morayofsunshine]

wicked the musical honestly makes way more sense if you interpret it as a poly triad with glinda, elphaba, and fiyero

[simptasia]

call anthony perkins bi and i'm tearing you limb from limb

[byeoltoyuki]

Yeah, I hate you too

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre: porn with little plot, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff, fake texts

❧ Words: +3k

❧ Warnings: fingering, sexting (kind of), anal, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, spanking, masturbation, mention of toys

❧Summary : They think you're dating. Wrong. How could you date someone you hate so badly? Right?

❧ A/N: I wrote this on a whim and definitely didn't have time to proofread it, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. Hope you enjoy it either way!

***

“Where’s Jisung?” Changbin asked as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the empty spot beside him. Empty spot because it took Jisung only five minutes to find something better to do than be with his friends.

You shrugged, indifferent. “How would I know?”

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

Now that was confusing. “I’m not.” You scoffed at the idea.

You barely tolerated each other. The only reason you had been cordial, at best, with him was because he was Felix’s friend. The said man shook his head which only fuelled your annoyance. “What?” You took a sip of your drink to try to drown your annoyance and uneasy feeling.

Felix shook his head but the smug smile remained. The little shit. “Nothing.”

“You have this look!” You pointed at his face as if he had personally offended you. Well maybe a little. Nobody should be allowed to look this pretty.

“What look?”

“Felix.”

“Y/N.”

God, you loved your friend, you really did but he knew how to annoy the hell out of you. “What.is.it?”

Felix’s eyes shone brightly. And with mischief. He leant closer, arm brushing yours. “It’s cute how you think I don’t know about you and Jisung.” And he winked. The audacity.

You gasped loudly. “I’m not dating him!”

It wasn’t your intention to say it so loud and attract Changbin’s attention back on you. He quirked a brow at you and also leant closer, obviously interested in your statement. Fuck.

Felix’s smirk only widened. “Never said anything about dating.”

Fine. You had lied. You had a situationship with Han Jisung. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he annoyed you eighty percent of the time. But he sure knew how to use his mouth. And tongue. And cock. He got you addicted and you hated him even more for that.

Before you could share a piece of your mind with Felix, your phone’s screen lit. It distracted you. So easily.

At his message, you almost dropped your phone. Count on Han Jisung to be this blunt. But then again, it probably was one of the reason you gave in so easily the first time he approached you.

His words alone brought back the same images you had been trying so hard to forget. Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes and still unforgettable. It was one of those nights; you were stressed with deadlines and loneliness was getting the best of you too. But then Jisung came to your place without notice, as if he owned the place, and disturbed all your plans at self-loathing. You tried of course to kick him out of your place, kicking and screaming – all he did was throw you over his shoulder and slap your ass strong enough to make you yelp in surprise. He brought you to your room and threw you on your bed. You weren’t even in the mood for sex, no matter how good it always was with him, but the look he had when he stared down at you set your body on fire.

Did he spend hours, or at least it felt like hours, nestled between your legs, feasting on you, marking you, teasing you till you were just a whimpering mess at his mercy, crying and writhing, begging for a release he wasn’t willing to give because you weren’t being nice to him. Absolutely. You hated how responsive your body was to him. Hated how he knew where to push, where to lick, where to suck, where to bite to make your toe curl, to bring tears to your eyes, to make you scream his name. He loved it, so bad, when you screamed his name.

When Jisung finally let you come, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t see and your body were spent. You didn’t think you would recover from such a powerful, mind-blowing orgasm. You told him so, knowing damn well how smug he would be, how pleased.

“What got into you?” You asked him, panting. You watched him remove his clothes, one by one, taking his sweet time. It was odd. He never took his time. Han Jisung was impatient and too eager ninety-five percent of the time. So why now?

Jisung’s smile turned wicked which set your alarms on alert. He was up to something. Something bad. And also probably incredibly delicious. But could you really do it? You tried to move your legs and winced.

Jisung crawled back on the bed, slowly, enjoying the view of your sweaty body, and all the marks he had left on your thighs. Such a beautiful woman and all for him to ravish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“And how is it my fault?” You scoffed and tried to sound unfazed. Your body disagreed. Your stomach flipped, excited.

Jisung hovered over you, his body trapping you under him, lips dangerously close yours but still not touching while his hand, his damn hand, slid slowly from your breasts to your stomach. Feather-like touches that sent shivers down your spine. But his hand didn’t stop on your stomach, it travelled to your abused, still incredibly sensitive pussy; your hips jerked in response and a small whine left your lips.

“No.” You tried to move your body to escape his touch.

But Jisung only smiled. “No? Hmm.” He teased your clit despite your protest and you grabbed his arms, digging your nails into his skin. “And it is your fault. I couldn’t erase the image of you flirting with this dude from the bar. He was awfully touchy with someone that isn’t his.” And he couldn’t resist the urge: he gave your pussy a slap. Strong enough to make you yelp in surprise, but not strong enough to hurt you.

You couldn’t believe he was being possessive. Was it the same guy you had been butting heads with for the past two years? Was it the same guy that begged you one night to let you eat you out because you looked too gorgeous in a red silky dress? “He wasn’t that touchy.” You tried to defend yourself even if he was right. He had been too touchy which had earnt him a kick in his balls later but Jisung didn’t need to know that. You wanted to see how far he was ready to go to show you who you belong to.

But Jisung saw right through you. With his free hand he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “Yeah? He touched this,” And his hand reached your ass. He gave it a strong squeeze before landing a first slap. You didn’t think you could get any wetter but you fucking did. “And this ass belongs to me, Y/N. You know it right?”

You were dying to say ‘no’, you didn’t belong to him and your ass certainly didn’t. But all your fire, all your protests died on your tongue when you felt his fingers dangerously close to your other hole.

“I believe this is the only place I haven’t claimed, right?” He hummed in satisfaction.

“Jisung,” You called for him, but why? You couldn’t tell whether you were scared to try something new or if you were excited. Probably both. “I-“

His fingers slid back to your dripping pussy. He gathered your juices and spread them around your other hole. He pushed a finger inside your ass and you gasped loudly. “Oh my god.” You mewled, shutting your eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. It felt weird and new. And so fucking good.

“I knew you would love it.” He chuckled. “Always knew you would let me completely defile you, wouldn’t you?”

And he added another finger, pushing slowly, filling you, stretching you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You couldn’t possibly survive this. But you definitely wanted it. “Yes.” You admitted.

Jisung chuckled as his fingers worked their magic. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck your pretty, little ass.”

“Please,” You begged.

He pulled out his fingers, leaving you empty and open. “And?”

You took a deep breath, realizing that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted unless you said those damn words. “Please Jisung, fuck my ass. I need it. Right. Now.”

Jisung snickered and flipped you with ease on your stomach. “Was it that hard?”

“Yes, asshole.” You managed to snap back.

Jisung only laughed at your weak attempt to fight back. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. “Such a nasty mouth.” He gave your ass another strong slap. “I’ll fuck it later too.”

‘As if!’ You wanted to say. But you felt his cock pressing to your hole. You sucked in a breath, tensing.

Jisung stroked your ass, trying to sooth you. “Relax, babe.”

Even if your mind wanted to fight him, your body obeyed.

He pushed slowly, inch by inch, struggling to control himself but despite his own needs, he kept a close eye on you, watching your every breath, your every wince. He wanted this experience to be enjoyable for you too and he knew you would love it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You didn’t think you could stretch anymore. You didn’t think you could ever feel this full. But it was exactly how you felt.

With one last thrust, he pushed all the way in. He groaned and closed his eyes to savour the feel of you around his cock. So tight, so nice, so pretty.

You fisted the sheets, needing something to hold on to. Or to destroy.

He pulled out slowly only to push back in. “Fuck babe, you feel so fucking good. So good I could die. Fuck.”

Jisung took his time with you, his thrust slow and as gentle as possible. It hurt and you squeezed the sheets tightly. But it also felt divine. Quickly, you found yourself wanting more, needing more, to relieve the itch. So you pushed back and he smiled in delight.

“Someone is excited.” He commented.

You were and you didn’t care anymore. “Show me what you can do, pretty boy.” You provoked him.

Jisung halted and hovered over your back. His warm breath caressed your cheek and then your ear. “Remember that you asked for it.” And he slammed hard into you, picking up his pace.

“Shit.” You moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

Jisung showed you no mercy. Every thrusts shattered and remade you. Every thrusts brought pleasure unknown to you. You didn’t think you could feel this good. You didn’t know if it had anything to do with Jisung and you didn’t care anymore. You took everything he gave you; every push of his cock, every groan, every dig of his fingers into your skin.

Jisung’s fingers slid to your clit and you almost collapsed at the new sensation. His thrusts along with his fingers playing with your clit brought you to the edge quicker and with so much strength. You barely registered when your body tensed and completely let go. You simply split apart with a sharp cry, waves of pleasure wrecking your body.

“Such a good girl.” Jisung didn’t stop. He used your body to seek his own climax. “And I can’t fucking get enough of you. I hate you for that.” But you barely heard him, still lost to your own pleasure. “Fuck, fuck.” Jisung came with a loud groan, pulling out to paint your ass with his release.

Fuck. You clenched your thighs tightly at the unwanted memory. You squeezed your phone tightly in your grip as if it had personally offended you. Your face flushed and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t supposed to get all horny in the middle of the bar. You weren’t supposed to let Jisung affect you so badly. But boy you were.

You tried to save yourself with this message. The bar wasn’t crowded and the lights were dimmed. There was no way he could see your state or your blush. Right?

Fuck. Your panties were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You were wet. Too fucking wet. You could ignore Jisung’s messages and suggestions, it was hella tempting since he was the one responsible for your state. Or you could leave and take care of your little problem without inviting him. That would piss him off and serve him right. You liked this plan better.

“I’m leaving.” You told Felix as you got back on your feet and readjusted your dress.

Felix eyed you with a cocked brow. “Why? You just go there.”

Something told you that whatever excuses you come out with, Felix wouldn’t believe you. Not when he was smirking like that. He knew something but you refused to delve into the matter. Nope. Not tonight. Not when your body was on fire. Not when your pussy was clenching desperately. “I’m tired.” You said and grabbed your bag.

“Tired.” Felix repeated your words with a poor imitation of your voice. “Sure thing, sweet. See you later.”

***

By the time you got to the safety of your home, your mind was plagued with images of Jisung between your legs. You couldn’t believe that your brain would think of him when you could have pictured anyone, anything. But you didn’t fight back those thoughts. You didn’t have time nor the will. Your body was too needy.

You took your heels and threw them somewhere on the ground. You hurried to get rid of your dress and your, now, completely ruined panties. I’ll make him pay another time. You threw yourself on your bed and readjusted your pillows to get as comfortable as possible.

A deep sigh of relief escaped your parted lips. Finally. You closed your eyes, Jisung’s face immediately invaded your thoughts and you let him. You let the image of him guide your hand to your breast and to your hard nipples that were begging for attention. You squeezed and pinched and let out small moans. You relaxed instantly, revelling in the different sensations.

You let your hand slid slowly from your breast to your stomach, drawing invisible circles on your skin before reaching between your legs, the place that most needed your attention. You took it slow; gentle rubs, circling your clit, letting the pleasure spread all over your body. Your fingers slipped inside your soaked pussy and you arched your back, imaging that it wasn’t your fingers but the most annoying person’s ones.

“Fuck.” You mewled.

“Now that’s a sight I’m not ready to ever forget.” Jisung’s annoying (sweet) voice interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes snapped open and you almost jolted out of your bed. “What the fuck?!”

No. He couldn’t possibly be there. How could he?  Were you that tired that somehow you started hallucinating? But no, as you looked at him standing by your door, licking his lips, his eyes darker than ever, you realized that he was not a piece of your imagination. “What, how?”

Jisung twirled the keys to your place and smirked. “Spare keys.”

You frowned, your dizzy mind having a hard time to catch up with his words. “I didn’t give you the spare keys to my place.”

Jisung nodded. “No. you didn’t.” He put them back in his pocket, proud of the effect he had on you. His eyes quickly slid to your spread legs and you realized too late that he had a perfect view of the mess you were. “Felix gave me the keys.”

The little shit! You knew he was up to something. You would make sure to make him pay later for not minding his damn business.

“Don’t be so angry, babe.” Jisung cooed, reading your emotions so easily. “Instead, show me how you play with yourself, hm?”

The ache between your legs returned so quick it almost knocked you out. This man and his voice had such a strong hold on you. You couldn’t help but obey and forget all about your annoyance.

“Tell me, what were you imagining while having your fingers inside this sweet pussy, hm?” Jisung asked as he watched your fingers disappear inside you. He licked his lips, drooling at the beautiful sight. He wanted nothing more than replace your fingers with his and with his tongue but for once, he fought his own needs. He grabbed the chair in the corner of your room at put it right before your bed so he could have the best view.

“You.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. “And what exactly was I doing in your imagination?”

“You were sucking on my clit with those pretty lips of yours while your fingers were stretching me nicely.”

“Shit.” Jisung groaned to himself. He could imagine it so easily. He unzipped his jeans and took out his hard cock dripping already with pre-cum. Jisung fell into rhythm with you, matching your energy as he worked his hand around his cock. “Add another finger.”

And you obeyed. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did once again. You moaned at the sight. You didn’t think watching Jisung touch himself would fuel your own desire, your own pleasure but it did. You almost came right on the spot.

But the itch was still there. No matter how hard you played with yourself you were still unsatisfied. You couldn’t reach as deep as he could. “Jisung. Please. I need you.”

Jisung chuckled. “Do you now? I think you’re doing pretty well on your own.” But truth was, he needed you too. So fucking badly. He needed, desperately, to sink his cock inside your pussy. He needed to feel your walls around his cock, squeezing him, begging for more.

“Am not. I need you. Please.” You begged shamelessly. You took out your fingers and spread your pussy for him to see. “Look. I need you.”

Jisung gulped, his willpower slowly crumbling. How could he resist now? “Me? Or my cock?”

“Both. Please?”

Jisung ruffled his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He left his spot, hurried to take all of his clothes and almost jumped on your bed. He grabbed your legs with so much strength, you yelped in surprise. He spread you wider for him. He let his fingers slid from your clit to your entrance, testing how wet you were. “Babe, you’re dripping. All for me?”

“All for you.”

“So pretty.” He took his cock and nudged it playfully against your pussy, making you mewl and push your hips in need. “And mine.” He plunged inside you with one powerful thrust that made the two of you groan.

You closed your eyes, feeling all of him. Hard and deep inside you. And so damn perfect. A part of you didn’t want it to feel so good but the one that didn’t care, savoured the stretch, the fullness.

“Y/N, I think I’m in love.” Jisung confessed as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, torturing you with how slow and gentle he was. You didn’t want slow. You didn’t want gentle. Not when you were so consumed with need and lust. You wanted him to wreck you.

“With me or my pussy?” You managed to joke and chocked when he slammed back. “Fuck.” You arched your back. He sure knew how to make you shut your mouth.

Jisung didn’t answer your question and you forgot all about it as he started thrusting. Just like you hoped and prayed. Hard. Deep. Making you hold your sheets tightly as you met his thrusts with your own.

“Harder.” You begged unable to think about anything else but him and his cock deep inside you.

“As you wish.” His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your skin that would leave marks – you didn’t care. You let him use you as he saw fit. You let him pound into you.

The sound of his grunts, of your moans and slap of skin was slowly driving you mad. The rhythm he set got you writhing and begging for release in no time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you, feeling his body crashing you under him, as you claimed his mouth in a desperate and needy kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth, damn proud of your state.

“I hate you.” You bit on his lips and he fought back with a powerful thrust. “So fucking,” And another. “Much.” And another.

Jisung kissed you back with as much needs. He was just as desperate for release as you were and so damn close. He tried to distract himself, to keep his control. He needed you to come. Right fucking now. One hand slipped between your bodies and he played with your clit as he kept pounding into you. Pinching it. Rubbing it. He left you no choice. He pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck!” Your back arched as your orgasm slammed into you. Your whole body shuddering as Jisung didn’t stop. He fucked you through your release, not slowing down even for a second. And you held onto him, strong and tight, and watched as he lost himself to his own pleasure. You watched him close his eyes as he slammed one last time and released himself.

Jisung slowly pulled out of you and took a second to admire his work. Your fucked up face. Your sweaty body. Your abused, dripping pussy. “Bloody hell. So damn beautiful.” He couldn’t stop himself from pushing back his fingers into your sensitive pussy to push back his cum inside you.

“Don’t. I can’t.” You begged and wriggled, trying to escape his dangerous fingers. You were completely and utterly spent. You couldn’t take more. But telling this to Jisung wasn’t your brightest idea. It only fuelled him more.

“But you look so pretty and yummy. How can a man resist?” And he brought his fingers to his mouth. Covered with both his and yours release. You gawked at him at you swore your pussy clenched again with need at the sight. He cleaned his fingers, humming in satisfaction.

“By the way,” He rolled to the side and pulled your body flushed against him. “I think I’m in love with both.” He admitted and kissed your head. “You and your pussy.”

You couldn’t believe him. He sure knew how to woo a woman. “Such a romantic.”

Jisung smiled sheepishly at you. “Isn’t it why you like me?”

“Tolerate you at best.” But you hid your face into his chest, refusing to show him your pink cheeks or the smile that spread on your face.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did. But we can do it again.” Jisung was in a mood. “So I can show you just how much I love you. And how much you love me too.”

Yeah. You liked the sound of it.

[homunculus-argument]

Probably dumb question from a trans guy who's struggling with actually physically and socially transitioning. I am a short, skinny, and relatively quiet human, and while I undoubtedly feel myself to be male internally and want my body to reflect that, I feel like nobody would ever take me seriously or find me attractive if I transitioned, or that I don't have what it takes to pass as a man in general due to people relentlessly perceiving me as feminine and female even when I do everything in my power to present otherwise.

I guess I'm just wondering if transitioning is even worth it for me? I'm almost 30, so I've lived as I am a long time, and as much as it makes me miserable and cuts me off from a lot of joy and vitality in life, it's all I know. I *think* I would feel better, have more confidence etc. if people perceived me as who I really feel myself to be, but the thought that there's a lot of people out there who would never accept that, and would rub it in my face that they still see me as something I loathe being seen as, makes me feel pretty hopeless about the whole situation.

No need to answer this if it's too personal a topic or anything, just wanted to run it past you since I admire you quite a bit, and you seem to have a lot of stuff figured out that I'm still working towards.

🐉

You sound pretty confident about it being something you can't be happy without, and honestly, testosterone is a hell of a drug, so even if you won't be astonishingly hot as a guy, you'll still read 100% as male in a couple of years. Look at the before-after pictures and progress timelines of trans men, especially HRT timelines, even the ones who don't end up looking like Kratos from God of War just turn out into completely normal-looking regular guys. There are plenty of short, skinny, and quiet cis men too, and they aren't so rare that normal people meeting you for the first time would start suspecting you to be one of those 1% minority people they've heard about.

I've also had friends who know I'm trans genuinely just forget about it. This one time a friend whom I have known since we were 15 - ten years before I started testosterone - get confused when I mentioned that my gym teacher at the time always wore electric blue mascara. She asked me which teacher was that, and only when I clarified that I was talking about the female gym teacher at my school, did she remember that I was in girls' gym classes. The thought that my school had the most flamboyant drag queen makeup wearing boys' gym teacher felt like a more plausible option than remembering that I was legally classified as a girl in school back when we met.

[brokenmenswhore]

I’m utterly feral with how you write Aegon! Words cannot describe the utter cuteness aggression I get I with this pathetic man and how well you write his patheticness!

Fem!Reader is a Stark betrothed to Aegon but in being a love hate relationship with the idea because he’s so frustrating yet so lovable and she doesn’t understand how to feel about that, but instead of taking her anger out on Aegon (poor boy is already getting bullied enough by his own mother) she takes it out in training or fighting cause she’d rather die than hurt him. But perhaps the tension grows to be too much and she just storms in and kisses him passionately cause she couldn’t take it anymore.

thank you so much! i love my men broken, homicidal, and pathetic 🫶🏻 this is formatted as a drabble!

headsplit | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: none!

────── ☾ ──────

Your sword pierced the bale of hay, almost the entire blade disappearing into the flakes as you stopped for a brief moment to catch your breath.

If I wish to go to war, then we will go to war. You are not yet my wife, why must it matter to you?

You pulled the sword out of the hay, slicing a few stiff strands as you hit either side of the bale, using all your might to express your anger.

You very well may come to loathe this betrothal, Stark.

You let out an exasperated scream as you pierced the hay bales again.

What I do in the streets at night is of no concern to you.

You continually stabbed the bale of hay as several more frustrating sentences Aegon had spoken to you rang through your mind. You were confused and overwhelmed, your only outlet being your sword and the unlucky object that came to face it.

Your betrothal to Aegon came as a surprise to you both. Aegon was under the impression that he would one day marry his sister, Heleana, and you never anticipated the man you would marry would be of high standing, nevertheless the highest standing possible.

Aegon was a complete headsplit.

Oftentimes he drove you crazy, speaking without thinking first or taking drastic actions without any regard for others. He was impulsive, and believed that since he was in line for the throne, his opinion was automatically valued over your own. He did whatever he wanted under the guise of “but I’m the future king” and unintentionally refused to include you.

On the other hand, he was one of the easiest people to care for that you’d ever met. You could have him wrapped around your finger or melting in your arms from just a little bit of affection and care. When you shared an intimate, genuine moment, you could truly see yourself loving him and aiding him for the rest of your lives. You were beginning to care for him, and your attraction toward him was not something you could hide any longer.

Then he would drink too much and cause a scene and leave you frustrated and confused.

You wiped the sweat from your hairline, stabbing your blade into the top of the bale of hay and pausing your training for a moment.

Training was one of the only ways you could express your anger. Aegon made your brain ache, and sometimes you wanted to shake him or scream, but you knew your temperament, and you would rather die than hurt him. He had been hurt enough in his life.

You were constantly battling with yourself over how you felt toward your betrothal. You ultimately decided that you were unsure how to feel, but it would hopefully turn out alright.

The internal tension within yourself was presenting itself in the way you interacted with Aegon. Your tone of voice was becoming exasperated, and you had to force yourself to keep calm when speaking to him. Other times, your mutual disdain and desire was so thick that the air felt like it was weighing you down.

You left the sword in the hay, opting for your dagger. You gripped the hilt as tight as you could as you faced a tall block of wood.

You repeatedly stabbed the block of wood until one strike was hard enough to pierce through the wood, your dagger getting stuck deep enough that you couldn’t pull it out.

You groaned in frustration, giving up on your training for the day and retreating back to your chambers to bathe.

When you sunk into the warm water, you took a deep breath, recounting conversations you’d had with your betrothed in place of trying to relax like you intended.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“Out,” was all Aegon said.

You sighed, dropping your head briefly before speaking again. “As your future wife, I expect you should make yourself comfortable speaking of your whereabouts.”

“As your future husband, I expect you to refrain from questioning me on my whereabouts.”

“Aegon, our betrothal signals a partnership, not an ownership in which I simply just bark when you say to bark.”

Aegon stood and approached you. “And if I wish to hear you bark like the little bitch you are?”

You closed your eyes as you sank further into the tub, recounting more memories.

“Because it is stupid, Aegon, just plain stupid.”

“Do not call my ideas stupid!”

“You’ll get yourself hurt, Aegon!” you screamed.

Aegon bowed his head, running his hands over his eyes. One moment ago, he was screaming, and now, he was breaking down in tears.

“Shit, Aegon,” you nearly whispered, running toward him and taking him in your arms, “I’m sorry I raised my voice, that was not okay.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and attempted to catch his breathing.

“I never want to hurt you, Aegon, I’m sorry.”

Aegon lifted his head, his eyes puffy as he looked at you. “You don’t?”

“What?”

“You don’t ever want to hurt me? Really?” Aegon spoke, his voice weak.

“Never,” you assured him, “and I am so so sorry if I did. It won’t happen again.”

Aegon hugged you, something he had never done before. He embraced your body tightly, desperate to feel close to you.

You allowed the bath water to relax the tension in your muscles as you rested the back of your head against the metal. Your brain was almost sore from all the instances swirling around in your mind.

“I don’t understand why I need to tell you these things,” Aegon shrugged, nonchalant.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” you retorted.

“I just don’t get why it matters.”

“Because knowing you’re safe is important.”

“I don’t get why you would care so much.”

“Aegon,” you sighed, “we are to be married.”

“And?”

You sighed in frustration. “So, naturally, a wife cares about her husband and his safety.”

“I am not your husband yet.”

“Yes but-“ you cut yourself off before you said something you regret out of anger.

You sat up in the bathtub, an idea popping into your head, and your body began to follow through before you could stop it. You stepped out of the tub, drying yourself off briefly and tying your robe around your waist.

With a huff, you marched out of your chambers and through the hallways. When you reached Aegon’s chambers, you didn’t even bother to knock.

You pushed the door open to find him seated in front of the table model of King’s Landing. He tilted his head upward to look at you, and you continued to step toward him.

“What are you-“

With no regard for his words, you took Aegon’s face in your hands and kissed him, hard.

He immediately responded, kissing you back. After a few moments, the intensity wore off, and you were simply making out, gentleness and passion finally presenting itself to you both.

You pulled away, nearly out of breath as you said, “sorry, couldn’t take it anymore.”

Aegon smiled at you, pulling you back into a soft kiss.

[whiskeyskin]

Easy

Premise: During their first night together, Astarion muses how disgustingly easy this seduction will be.. right? Right..? 👀😬

• Astarion x f!Tav • M rating •

Astarion!POV, dissociation, mutual handjobs, bloodplay, improper use of tadpoles, confused erections, guilt, loathing.

I'm unable to find the person responsible for this heartbreaking picture of our boy, please tag if you recognise it as yours 💜 Gatta credit the Artists!

•°•°•

This is almost too easy, Astarion thought to himself as he leaned in to kiss her.

His mind had automatically retreated into himself the moment he scented her presence, reversed into the well practised charade he'd played for tens of decades.

She was the perfect prey.

She was a bleeding heart. A filthy do-gooder. Thank the gods she couldn't see him rolling his eyes every time she stopped for a stranger.

Well, apart from when she'd stopped for him..

He picked her up and felt himself press her against the tree, continuing to kiss her. She wrapped her arms and thighs around him and squeezed him tightly, running her hands along his shoulders and the sides of his neck. He flinched when she grazed the marks from Cazador's bite but passed it off as a gasp from his desire.

He had to admit; she wasn't all bad but he couldn't be sure of her dedication to him and his cause. Not without devotion beyond a shadow of a doubt. He had to woo her, far beyond what he'd ever done before.

He had to be clever about this. Seduction was a sprint, whatever this was would be a marathon.

Tav smiled and traced her teeth over her bottom lip. She was very beautiful. It was less of a chore when they were attractive.

Her eyes were flitting over his face, Astarion kept his flirtatious smile ever present.

"Would you like to feed on me when we have sex? I assume you've never done that before?" She offered with a suggestive tilt of her head, exposing just enough of the taut flesh of her neck.

A jolt of something he didn't quite recognise zapped through his body like a Witch bolt and Astarion's flawless smile faultered. His flaccid cock twitched and began to ache, rapidly growing.

His body tensed at the reaction. This never happened. He could count on one hand how many times he'd naturally gotten hard - as natural as it was for a dead man to get hard, of course.

The surprise on his face must have been abundantly apparent, as Tav smiled brightly with a cheeky glint.

"I assume that's a yes, then?" She chuckled, her eyes dipping down between them to his rigid member, beginning to roll her hips against him, her wet folds lightly teased his swollen member as she undulated.

Astarion chest felt tight and his eyes rolled back unexpectedly at the delicious feeling.

Suddenly, he found himself falling backwards, as Tav pushed herself off the tree.

Now in ordinary circumstances, he would have been able to save himself and them and soften the blow. However, seeing as 1, he wasn't expecting to be falling and 2, was suddenly filled with a need he'd not experiened in quite some time; they both fell unceremoniously to the floor, reeling from the impact.

"Ahh, my fucking knees!" She cried, laughing and hissing in pain.

"Your knees? What about my back? You just threw us on the floor, you idiot!" He spat at them, a dull throb radiating.

Tav started to laugh, "I'm sorry! I thought it would be sexy. Ow, myfuckingknees." She covered her mouth, still chuckling and sat straight upwards, her warmth settling on top of his confused erection.

"Are you okay?" She giggled, placing her fingertips gently on where his heart was.. where it used to beat.

If he had breath to hitch, it would have.

"I'm alright." He shrugged off, "it's lucky the ground's soft around here." He swallowed, "Are you alright?" He asked, realising he should show concern.

"I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting smashed knees and tree branches up my arse is all." She smirked in faux pain.

Astarion let out a loud and unexpected "Ha!" at the comment and gave her a genuine smile.

"Just to preface, I wasn't expecting anything up my arse tonight. You don't get those goods out the gate, Mr. Vampire. No matter how pretty you are." She said plainly, with a hint of amusement.

"Spawn. Get it right, or don't get it at all." He countered.

"Ooh, I do apologise, Mister Vampire Spawn Saer. I prostrate before thee, how could seek thy forgiveness?" She flourished her hand in a mock bow.

He gripped her quickly, and flipped her with new found vigor. She gasped and giggled as they rolled.

Now encased below, he crawled up the length of her body, "Well, I can think of one way." He lilted playfully, as he braced his hands by her head.

She smiled again, relaxing into the position, before offering her neck to him.

For the second time that night a jolt of something he didn't quite understand coarsed through him, it settled low and hungry in his belly. His cock swelling back to size, laying like a snake wait on her soft stomach.

He couldn't figure it out. Figure her out. This wasn't how it normally went.

His usual feelings of disgust and loathing would sit in his throat, like bile. Would grip his haunches and made him recoil, make him feel like he was the lowest creature on the face of Faerûn.

Despicable. Foul. Vile.

But this new feeling, this desire, this.. need? Was completely foreign to him.

Tav pulled him from his thoughts with her gentle touch, which he flinched from unconsciously.

"Hey, you alright?" Concerned furrowed her brow as she gazed up at him, moon and starlight reflected in her gaze.

His veneer slide back into place, "Of course darling, just thinking of all the ways I can make you cum." He reached between them to pinch a nipple, she gasped, to which he silenced with a deep kiss.

It wasn't his fault. This is what he had to do. What he was good at. What he'd spent so many years doing. Perfecting. But this would be beyond that.

He needed to her to fall so deeply in love with him that she'd never betray him. That she'd die for him, sacrifice herself for him, so that he might survive Cazador's impending attempt to drag him back.

To do that he had to: seduce her, sleep with her numerous time, make her orgasm so hard she wouldn't be able to move. He'd have to use his most advanced moves to assure this mission's success.

He would manipulate her so convincingly, that she would willingly fight a Vampire Lord to protect him. That was a tall order. Depending on how long he had to work on her.

He made people fall in love with him in an evening. This shouldn't be that much harder. He'd have to-

"Bite me, Astarion." Tav breathed against his mouth, and his mind stilled.

It was like he'd walked into a solid brick wall. Something hot and eager flushed him.

He came back to his body with two fingers stuffed inside her tight cunt, her warm juices spilling on to his hand and his cock limply hanging between his legs.

Clearly he'd been busy while he'd stepped away from the reigns.

Her words echoed through him like a gong reverberated through a temple.

He pulled his lips back and bared his fangs to her, tightened every muscle in his body.

He knew how delicious she was, how rich and delectable she was. And now he knew how emotions flavoured the blood; her anticipation and nervousness the first time, the relaxation of the following times, the fear of the bandits he'd drained to death on the battlefield. All of them tasted different.

Gods, what would arousal taste like.. desire.. orgasm..

"You're a shit Vampire, Astarion, honestly. Oh, Vampire Spawn. Let's not forget semantics." She teased, biting her lip.

"Well, you're a-" He had nothing. He had blood on the brain, and his cock apparently wanted cunt.

Her muscles clenched down on his digits as she laughed, "Good one, Star."

"Oh, shut up." He snarked with a grin, that she replied with, as he finally pierced her skin and tasted her decatent blood.

She hissed and clenched around his fingers again, as he removed his teeth from the puncture points to release her blood.

It filled his mouth, rushing out of her in spurts. He drank deeply, tasting her excitement. It tasted citrusy, bright and sharp on the tongue, then it changed to deep berries, rich and warm. Her delicious blood coated his throat and nourished his body, as he swallowed her down.

He began pumping his dexterous fingers inside her again, his thumb flitting over her clit. She gasped again and brought her hands to grasp his neck and shoulder.

She moaned and twitched under him, "Ah, ah-starion. That feels.. ngh.. don't stop."

He hummed and shook his head in agreement against her neck. There wasn't a chance he was stopping. There wasn't a chance he could.

This felt fucking amazing. Tasted like pure heaven.

He was painfully hard. The blood he was draining from her filling his cock with sensations.. divine, eye-rolling sensations.

Limitless freedom, hedonistic pleasure. A heady high that had him groaning against her skin.

She writhed her hand between them, towards his thick member. It would be awkward but gods he needed her to touch him.

He'd never needed anyone's touch more than hers at this precise moment.

He pushed his hips up higher wantonly, to allow her more room. She grasped his cock within her grip and immediately started pumping.

He broke the seal of his lips against her flesh, gasping and panting. The cool air of the night a stark contrast to the warmth of her blood dripping down his chin.

"Oh gods, Astarion." She keened beneath him, digging her nails into the muscle of his bicep with the other hand.

He gasped against the overwhelming bombardment of sensation assailing him; the taste of her blood, the smell of arousal, the burn of desire, the delicious friction of her hand.

It was wrong, wasn't it? Feeling good during sex? It wasn't supposed to feel this way. It wasn't meant to be enjoyable. It never had been before..

But gods it was now. It was almost too much.

His hand moved of it's own accord, practised for years in the art of autopilot; finessing between curling his digits stuffed inside her tight pussy and his thumb fluttering over her clit. And thank that gods, because he was not present. For an entirely different reason this time.

He whimpered, mouth agape, thinking blood coating his tongue. He was in a state of total and unexpected euphoria. Nothing mattered except remaining forever, in this moment, in this clearing.

Feather light touches brushed against his mind, seeking connection.

Astarion flinched at the intrusion, "What are you.. doing?" His mind's voice irritated and desperate.

"Going to cum.. soon. Collective ecstasy.. remember?" She replied, her's tense and full of revelry.

Astarion swallowed, latent blood flavouring his tongue. His face tensed, unsure.

He looked down at her face. Gods, she was close. The throes of pleasure evident on her beautiful face, bathed in the moonlight. It hit low in his belly, tightening his testicles.

It would be fun to use these parasites for something as debauched as this.

Those tentacled freaks wouldn't expect that, would they?

He allowed her to enter his mind, just a little. Only to be blown backwards by the rush of orgasmic energy that blazed towards him like a Thunderwave.

The storm that was roiling inside her, the building crescendo, the sheer desperation to cum. It paralysed him. It tangled within him. It wrapped itself around his cock, his hips and thighs. It painfully pinched at his nipples. It delectably nibbled at his ears.

"Gods above!" He spluttered, knocked completely off his guard.

His own orgasm rushed to meet her at the precipice, his body straining at the surge of endorphins.

"I can.. hold on.." she muttered, weakly. He clasped his hand to hers, above her head, on the forest floor.

He could almost see her, stood at the edge of a great ravine that dropped into nothingness. She reached her hand for him. His fingertips touched hers.

Their hands entwined on the edge of the swirling void. She let out a deep exhale and willingly fell backwards into the abyss, and he was unable to - refused to - fight it.

"No.. cum.. cum.. with me.." No later than he'd uttered the last word, he felt her walls clench around him.

Free fall..

Silence..

Peace..

And for the first time in over 200 years, he actually looked into the eyes of the person with him. Her reverent gaze pierced through his sorry façade, his pain and his suffering.

It was like time had slowed.

He saw her in two realities. This one; where he loomed over her, fingers in her cunt and her hand wrapped round his cock. And the other; the leap of faith, the never-ending galaxy around them, their hands grasped so tightly.

Her pupils flashed and dilated, her face flushed and strained, as she came on his fingers.

Hers hit a moment before his. The bow string released, a spell's magic unleashed.. the storm overcame them both.

"Astarion." She whispered, smiling in absolute, unbridled euphoria.

She looked deep into his eyes, and never strayed her gaze, as her orgasm lashed through her.

Looking into her eyes, with a roar that died in his throat, hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from his pale, undead cock. It shot up her gorgeous, soft body and coated her fingers.

He felt her cunt flood with her juices, staining his palm, as she called out his name like a song.

She bucked and writhed, face contorted in ecstasy. His own pleasure causing him to thrust and jerk, veins in his neck tense and popping from the sheer force.

He collapsed on top of her, utterly spent.

There they lay in stunned, post-orgasmic bliss for what seemed effortless hours, when it fact only moments had passed. The muscles in his legs twitched, as he came down from the high. His hearing returned to him, after the thumping of her rushing blood slowed inside him. Her hard breathing softened to laboured exhales. His eyes growing heavier as Reverie beckoned.

Still collapsed on top of her, she stroked her thumb across his shoulder.

"I would call that collective ecstasy." She whispered with smile against the sweat sodden hair stuck to his temple.

He huffed out an exhausted laugh, and she pressed a kiss, to which he reciprocated in his delirium.

"I would call that a miracle." He mused, lifting himself up and peeling his chest from theirs.

He cast his eyes down on the sacrilege between them. His cum glistened in splotched patches up their stomachs and chests, where he'd collapsed after orgasm.

"Oops." He said, without a morsel of regret.

"Eh, comes with the territory." She shrugged, waving their hand and muttering the somantics for Prestidigitation.

Astarion let out a groan and rolled off her, to the ground. He was utterly spent. It had been a very long time since sex had tired him this way. Well, it hadn't even been sex.

Tav rolled onto his chest, laying her head down and letting out a big sigh.

"That was interesting, huh? Using the tadpole's connection?" There was a tease of intrigue in her voice.

"I can imagine that's not what the Illithids had in mind when they implanted us with them." He said, flippantly amused, bringing his arms to hold them.

There was a pause.

"Were you there with me? On the edge of that terrifying expanse?" Their tone was cautious but curious.

Astarion's brows shot up his face, "You saw it too?"

"I thought it was my imagination but I felt you, felt your hand holding mine," she moved her fingers to finesse his hand into the correct position to hold hands like before, "I had to know if it was real."

A twang of guilt ricocheted through his chest.

There it was. That old familiar feeling.

"Of course it was, darling." His voice was thankfully more convincing than his expression.

She smiled against his skin, pressed a kiss and let out another contented sigh, as she settled back into his embrace.

Despicable. Foul. Vile. The lowest creature on the face of Faerûn.

He sighed through his nose, his body tense with undeniable self-hatred.

Yes, this would be easy.

•°•°•

D'ya like reading smut and sweetness? I've got a Masterlist 👀🤫

[ddollfface]

Can I please request a Yandere Hanayama Kaoru head canon?

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝙆𝙖𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙖 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

Warnings; reader is afab/described a girl, yandere behaviors, stalking, I talk a lot, lots of ramblings, probably doesn't make any sense, bad writing, more stalking, Tumblr is trying to silence me, ngl Hanayama is growing on me... If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Bro, I'm so sorry that this is super rushed, seeing as I hit the word limit??? I'm super confused because I barely wrote anything, but whatever. A lot of my headcanons are based around @yandere-writer-momo. Also, sorry for being offline for so long lol, kinda forgot I had Tumblr ngl :/

Okay, to start this off, I think that realistically, it'd be very, very, very hard to get Hanayama's attention. He's shown to be stoic and stone-faced, only showing respect and warmth toward specific people (Baki and Shiba included). And I think it's important to mention that the people he does respect is due to their fighting spirit and/or strength, that or they were there during his childhood (like Kizaki and his mama).

And that's just for him to show basic affection toward them, not even accounting for being loving. For you to catch his attention, I think that you'd have to be either a really strong fighter (meaning having impressive skills of some sort) or have a strong will, either one will work. (Though, a lot of the time, both go hand-in-hand).

When I say a strong will, I don't mean you get up after being punched over and over, instead, it can just be standing up for others. Similar to Katsumi, I can see Hanayama being attracted to a person who's selfless, in the sense that they're brave. Someone who's willing to push through their fear and do it, whatever it is. Now, that catches his attention.

There's a never-ending list of cowards who'll run with their tails between their legs at the sight of discomfort, willing to abandon everything just for their own gain, and Hanayama encounters these men all the time. Let's just say that it gets boring, annoying even. So when you see someone who's spitfire, ready to jump into danger for themselves or others. Now, that's impressive.

Whether or not they can actually carry through doesn't matter too much, it's the fact that they got back up, not letting their dignity lay to rest. Personally, I find that Hanayama would be far more interested in someone who's genuinely acting selfless in this way, acting from the heart.

Going more into his childhood, I think this type is rooted in Hanayma's relationship with his mother. Though I haven't read the manga, from the wiki, I've gained that he was close to his mother, loving her very much. We don't know much about her. Hell, we don't even know her name, but we do know that she was kind.

That's the only information we're given, but even from that, I can make an analysis. From this, I know that Hanayama was likely a Mama's boy, though still being trained to be a Yakuta. I don't mean Mama's boy in the traditional sense, I mean it in the way that she was his peace, his way out of the Yukuta world, his destiny. Being raised in a gangster lifestyle isn't easy, nor is it soft, so just imagine the damage that type of environment can put on a child's brain?

Horrible, huh? So I like to think that Hanayama's mama, before she passed, was far softer to him, giving him some sense of security. this is possibly why he felt such sorrow after she passed, discarding the natural pain we feel when our mama dies (seeing as there's a primal connection we have with our mama, but that doesn't matter too much at the moment).

Hanayama is a very monotone kind of guy, who, I imagine, doesn't like people with some type of alternate motive. Like, y'know how politicians or businessmen talk? Like they're hiding something from you? Yeah, Hanayama loathes those kinds of people, especially if they're trying to pursue him. I belive that he wants someone who'll keep his life steady; be his calm, if you will.

He wants someone who will be upfront, express themselves clearly, and won't keep what they're thinking from you. To him, this is a breath of fresh air. Hanayama is constantly surrounded by lackeys trying to kiss up to him, speaking with a hidden motive (which isn't really hidden in retrospect). If they're not trying to appease them, then they're quacking in their boots, ready to piss themselves.

But you're not like that, no, not at all. You're different. Hanayama can tell, you aren't some coward, instead, you're someone to respect. He can imagine you sitting next to him, all pretty as a Yakuza's wife. Yeah, he likes the sound of that. Well, the only problem is that you don't know who he is, not yet at least.

I imagine that you wouldn't know who Hanayama is, at first, seeing as he never spoke to you. He likely witnessed you acting selfless in some type of way, expressing your kindness by helping a grandma get across the street, something like that.

You didn't notice him, but he sure noticed you. At first, it wasn't anything too special. Hanayama just found you interesting, wanting to see what you'd do next, so he had one or two of his men keep a tab on you--nothing serious. It continues like that for quite a while, and Hanayama learns more and more about you. He knows that you like to sing when you cook, tapping your feet to the beat, and swaying side-to-side. It's cute, he thinks. And Hanayama feels closer to you, as if you know each other, like you're friends.

But then one of his men reports that you're not at home, not following your usual schedule. Instead, you were at some dingy cafe, drinking crappy coffee with another man, some slumbag who looked like he hadn't showered in a hot second. For some reason, which Hanayama doesn't know, he gets ticked off.

Someone as sweet, kind, and damn pretty as you shouldn't associate with someone like him, someone so gross.

He doesn't do anything, no, no yet. It'd be too brash, and too stupid. And Hanayama isn't stupid. No, Hanayama can keep himself composed, now knowing that he needs to get your attention. Afterall, he can't have you running around with other men, not when he's right here! Well... you don't know that, yet.

Few weeks pass, and you've completely forgotten the trashy date you had gone on, but Hanayama hasn't. You begin to notice new outfits appearing in your closet, clothing you certainly didn't have previously. They're far too expensive, too revealing for you to own.

You'll be confused, especially when these dresses, heels, and coats are no longer just appearing, but instead, being presented. Now, instead of being hung up or nicely folded in your closet, they're being laid out on your bed, accompanied by a pretty, black leather box with silk insides. A little note is stuck on top of the shimmering dress, causing you to gulp, looking around as a shiver racks through your body.

Who the hell is buying you a dress? (though, it looks far more like lingerie, seeing as you'd never be able to wear it out in public). You don't know, but you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you lift the velvet cloth, feeling the lace slip through your fingers. Once you tried it on, listen, you couldn't help but feel curious, you gawked at how it fit you like a glove, hugging your curves, and accentuating your hips and bust.

It's fucking creepy, that's all you can think, but it gets worse, way worse. Throughout the weeks, you notice more and more gifts show up at your doorstep. The dresses get severely revealing, much to your discomfort. So do the notes. They get too detailed and too accurate to your day-to-day. By now, it's clear that you have a stalker, a rich one at that.

I'd have to say that this is the worst part of being with Hanayama: the courting. It's hella weird! You'll never feel alone, always having someone watching you, mostly Hanayama. He doesn't have his lackeys watching you anymore, seeing as he's far too jealous for that. He doesn't want someone as low at them to see you in such an innocent, vulnerable state. No, that's only for him to see.

Don't be surprised when he shows up at your door, your last hookup's head in hand and a bundle of roses in the other. After all, it's time for you to come home, no?

[explicit-tae]

fuck it, a look into jimin's ungodly hour or whatever

“So,” Jungkook begins, lightly tapping his foot against the floor. “you pay for Onlyfans...”

“Shut,” Jimin’s teeth grits. “the fuck up.”

Jungkook roars with laughter, his head pushed back to let it out. Like clockwork, Taehyung begins to laugh which causes Hoseok, too, as well. 

Jimin’s ears are red, just as his neck, with embarrassment. 

This wasn’t the norm - he wasn’t the butt of jokes. Jungkook was and always has been. He doesn’t know how to handle the embarrassment. He does understand that he hates you with every fiber of his being.

Maybe hate was a strong word. Jimin didn’t hate you - you were, however, a rival of his. 

You and your constant smart remarks underneath his tweets. 

You always go against him in debates while in classes with such a condescending tone that has his hands clenching.

The way you post suggestive pictures on your twitter pages that doesn’t show everything, but just enough to have his mind wandering for more.

The way you tempt him with the link to your Onlyfans pinned on your profile that even he - someone who loathes you - has to check and see just how much of a mess you were. 

The way that you weren’t a mess in the slightest and all of the free pictures you show only forces him to subscribe to you to see more; not because he thought you were attractive - just because he was a naturally nosy individual.

“I hate her.” Jimin says what he’s thinking aloud. “Because of that bitch, now I’m Jungkook.”

“A simp?” Taehyung questions with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“You’re going to start barking next?” Hoseok jokes.

“Okay,” Jungkook raises his hands in confusion. “why are we reverting the bullying back to me?! This is about Jimin.”

[dead-boys-club]

†  the hero : shigaraki.

❥ scenario: tomura dealing with emotions for the enemy. ❥ uuuuuuhhhh... tw for death. technically multiple but you only read about one. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ half requested.

❥ this post has five parts to it and it's a shit show. if you have issues with tomura actually feeling human things - please leave my inbox out of it.

❥ the timeline here is fucked. the ending has tomura with red eyes, bite me. it's a fucking shit show. enjoy.

❥ hate me, please. even if you can't hate me more than i hate myself. this is 8651 words.

✧*̥˚ the feelings *̥˚✧

it's no shock that tomura would be confused and very much in denial. not only would he not understand his own feelings or the fact he could feel such a way but falling for a hero? he's supposed to despise them; it goes against his entire belief system. he would have trouble navigating such feelings, mostly because he wouldn't. he wouldn't want to deal with them. he would go the route of bullshitting his way through it and brush them off as fascination or curiosity, telling himself it was entirely about their quirk - yes, that's all it is. he couldn't possibly feel genuine affection towards a hero.

he wouldn't handle it very well. he'd be frustrated beyond belief. pro heroes are obstacles, enemies - the bane of his existence, actually. not romantic interests. the ingrained hatred would be significant to his frustration. he would barely be able to comprehend his own level of agitation. it would just continue to grow and gnaw at his thoughts.

the one thing he wouldn't expect was the sudden self doubt that bubbled up. was he going insane? he would feel as if he couldn't trust his own judgement. was he becoming weak? to tomura, emotions just get in the way and make someone too vulnerable. it felt like parts of him were exposed and raw. he would struggle with the uncertainty and the internal conflict would have him collapsing in on himself.

internalizing everything and trying to rationalize would only make things worse. he would become obsessed with them. he would find some way to learn more about them - he wouldn't go as far as stalking them but he needed to know more. he would analyze every action, movement, word - it would prove to be a distraction more than once. this would lead to more interactions, making sure he was part of any scene they were. he wouldn't admit it but he had a strong desire to be near them.

of course, he'd wonder why. what made them so.. interesting? was it the pseudo untouchable hero shit? he couldn't say they weren't attractive but he also wasn't sure when he started noticing those things. the way they spoke, fought, even the way they walked - he couldn't take it.

despite everything, seeing them injured would just add on to the rage he already felt, bringing it to a level he didn't even know he could feel. he would feel some weird, uncharacteristic protectiveness towards them, one he wouldn't even fully understand. he was getting sick of not understanding his own feelings. the problem started when he began going out of his way to make sure they weren't getting harmed by other villains. he'd be lowkey about it but unbeknownst to him, the hero wouldn't be as oblivious as the villains.

jealous. tomura doesn't exactly have the best hold of grasping his emotions, so seeing you with other heroes, even interacting with your fans - it all made his skin crawl in such a disgusting manner. it would only fuel his anger and confusion. his view of the world would also feel disrupted. how was he supposed to feel?

tomura wasn't built to handle moral dilemma - he simply wasn't. the hatred he felt towards heroes was deeply imbedded in his past, his goals and his ideology. having feelings for someone on the other side of the court, that he was supposed to loathe, would force him to reevaluate his thoughts and beliefs - he would have to face a lot of painful memories. he briefly wondered if his brain and feelings were pulling some sick, twisted hero version of 'daddy issues'. was there a part of him seeking something? he ignored the idea that something was looking and pleading to be healed.

why was he even thinking about it? they would simply reject him, anyway. he feared that rejection - the rejection of allegiances and of him as a human being. did they even see him as such? or, was he simply another monster? it would weight heavily on him, feeling as thought he could never make a move. that thought would lead him to his next problem: acceptance.

he would eventually accept his feelings and affections, somewhat begrudgingly. it would be slow and he wouldn't like it one bit. succumbing to his need to be accepted by them. it would have a sudden moment of clarity and being honest, he might vomit at the wave of overwhelming emotions. but, he would finally acknowledge as what they are.

slowly and subtly, he'd begin changing the way he acted towards them. to everyone's surprise and distaste, he would be less hostile, not wanting them involved in conflict. the notable change, however, wouldn't be good. as the other villains noticed, it would cause a rift and considerable tension among them. this would add only more to his plate.

drabble.

sitting in the dimly lit hideout, tomura was doing everything he could top stop the racing thoughts in his mind. the images of the pro were making a mess of his thoughts and he couldn't get any of it to go away. he hated how his heart race quickened and his hands shook just because of them. he was going mad.

'damn it,' he hissed to himself, agitated beyond comprehension. 'why them?'

their last encounter haunted him, playing on loop and reminding him of the way he was looked at. they looked at him as if they saw more than just a villain. their gaze held understanding, concern.. compassion. it made something in him flutter, something that shouldn't exist. something he so desperately wanted to ignore.

his thoughts were disrupted when toga bounded into the room. 'hey!' she chimed, eyes twinkling with mischief. everyone else may have had a problem but he didn't want to admit that she understood. 'thinking about your little hero again?'

his gaze shifted to glare at her, jaw clenching briefly. 'shut up. it's none of your business.'

despite knowing his temper wasn't one to mess with, she decided to comment anyway. 'don't be so upset! i love a hero, too!' she giggled, making her way out of the room. he did his best to ignore her but he couldn't. he was so in love and it terrified him to no end.

✧*̥˚ the hero is immune *̥˚✧

his instant reaction would be pure shock. he's never known someone to be immune to his quirk and that was his biggest weapon; what use was he against you? he would be powerless. having an immunity to his quirk sounded impossible. he would be almost like a child, having to test it multiple times, being unable to believe his eyes. you shouldn't still be standing in from of him. he was back to that disgusting, exposed feeling. he was... useless.

if he wasn't curious about your quirk previously, he was fully invested in figuring it out. he needed to understand how it worked. he would be relieved for a little while, thinking about how he actually had a sliver of a chance.. someone he could touch without worry but it would be quickly overshadowed by fear. what did this mean for him? he had no control, no power - no walls put up.

he would be even more confused at this point. tomura has a sense of superiority that seemed to suddenly be dissipated. he would get angry with the way he questioned his own power. his growing feelings for you would cause his thoughts to clash even more violently. his desire to destroy heroes would be shaken by his inability to harm one, not to mention not wanting to. the idea of hurting you made him sick to his stomach. however, that growing desire to learn more would just lead him to want to be even closer. he was spilling himself apart between fear and uncertainty against love and need.

something that would make this conflict worse would be not knowing if anything was real. the way you looked at him and seemed to not want to hurt him in return.. was it a ploy to get closer? was your immunity a threat and you were just.. a plan. a fake. he would struggle severely with paranoia. would you use this against him? his growing love for you was already a weakness but now, you could easily become his downfall.

but.. he could touch you. he could hold you. and, he kind of hated that.

drabble

shigaraki was pacing around in the abandoned building, lit only by streaks of moonlight, trying to get his thoughts straight as he battled fascination and frustration. you just watched, arms folded and hip cocked. you couldn't count the amount of times he'd taken your hand or touched your arm, expecting you to crumble but there you stood, unscathed. he couldn't read your expression.

'how?' he finally asked, stopping in his tracks. his voice was low, something anyone else would consider dangerous but you were confident nothing could really happen. 'how are you immune?' "why did you come? why do you keep meeting me?' he didn't voice the questions in his head.

'my quirk makes me resistant to certain types of physical damage. usually it's against things like fire damage, ice.. surface poisons. i'm guessing your decay falls under that category.' you brushed it off as casually as you could because in reality, you hadn't known the extent of your own quirk.

he took a deep breath, a whirlwind of emotions racing through him. 'why didn't you tell me? this isn't the first time we've met.' he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

you frowned a little to yourself before your gaze softened and your arms fell, shrugging. 'i knew you would see me as a threat,' you answered, 'i liked the idea of you getting to know me as a person. not a threat, not a hero.'

you had to be taunting him, right?

'you.. you're.. different.' it was mostly said to himself but not quiet enough to not be heard. he wanted to stop closer to you, to reach for you, but he stopped himself, hands trembling at his sides.

you, on the other hand, took a step towards him. 'tomura.. there's a lot more to you than just decay. the day i took your hand and we both learned i was immune? you realize i did that not knowing what would happen? you don't have to be defined by.. all of this alone.'

his breath caught in his throat and he looked away. the way you said his name with such gentleness, it made his heart ache. his eyes closed to attempt calming himself and he found himself imagining a world where you were right. a world where he wasn't a villain, where he could be with you without all of the complications. that wasn't possible.

but, those thoughts had to come to an end and reality was a harsh thing. 'this changes nothing,' he muttered, voice a bit shaky and lacking it's usual conviction. fuck.

you just nodded. 'it's a start.'

unable to shake the feeling he had, he knew it was best to say nothing more and turned to leave. he couldn't allow himself to show such a vulnerable side to you.. not when he still didn't know your motives. your immunity to decay could be something much more than a quirk, it was painting itself out to be a symbol of hope that maybe there was more to life, to his life, than fear and destruction.

✧*̥˚ the confession *̥˚✧

the atmosphere felt heavy and thick with the tension of unspoken feelings. you stood across from tomura once more, tucked away from the world in your usual meeting spot, one that shouldn't exist to begin with. you wanted to say it was worth it, unable to deny the growing bond between you, but was it? it was nice to have a place away from the prying, judgmental eyes of society, of heroes and villains. but, what would the cost be if you were found?

'we.. can't keep meeting like this, tomura. it's dangerous.' you began, knowing that both of you would face horrible consequences.

he shifted his weight, uncomfortable and awkward, eyes narrowing as he tried to hide as much as he could. 'you think i don't know that?' he hissed out, hands clenching, 'but i.. i can't just stay away. i..'

you furrowed your brow, trying to figure something out. you searched his features for some type of answer, even a sign of the person beneath the villain standing before you but it was useless. 'why do you keep coming back to me? what is it you want?'

a long pause followed your question, your desperate attempt for something, anything to ease the curiosity. his fingers twitched, palms burning with how his desire to destroy everything around him was clashing with his own desperate need to hold something - someone - and feel human for even a moment.

'i don't understand it. you make me.. question everything and i hate it. i don't know what any of this is or how to handle it. you've made me feel things that i've kept buried for so long.'

listening to him, you took a few steps towards him, leaving only about two feet of space. 'then tell me what they are and i can figure them out with you. i've said it before, tomura, you're so much more than you're giving yourself credit for. you're not just.. a vil--'

you were cut off. 'i don't need your pity, so stop. i'm not a lost cause that you can save. i'm not just another badge for your hero bullshit.' he spoke the words through gritted teeth, angry and confused about.. everything.

'if it was pity and i thought you were just a lost cause, we wouldn't be standing here. you'd be in custody,' you pointed out firmly, straightening your shoulders, 'it's not pity. pity doesn't make me meet up with a villain who is trying to kill everyone around me. this is.. this is something else.'

he didn't know how to respond for a moment, your words echoing in his head. his heart began to pound, his confidence shattering and his mask nonexistent under the weight of his feelings. 'i don't know how to say this.. i've spent so long hating, destroying.. being angry. i didn't know i was capable of feeling something like this.'

you knew things were bleeding into a territory they shouldn't and you should have stopped the moment you fully began to understand what he meant. but, heroes have their faults, too. instead, you moved closer and gently collected one of his hands. 'it's okay. just say it, whatever it is, say it. i'm here.'

his nerves were eased by your touch, gripping onto it carefully as it grounded him to reality, one that was becoming far too overwhelming. he couldn't remember the last time he felt the warmth of someone beneath his fingertips for so long and it broke him even further.

taking a deep breath, he let it out and met your gaze. 'i.. i think.. no. no, i know. i've fallen for you,' his voice grew quieter with each word, no longer trusting or confident in his own voice, 'it scares me.. but, it's the truth.'

you knew what was coming but your eyes still widened upon hearing it. you moved on your own, even closer, your free hand coming up to settle over his cheek. 'tomura,' you whispered and God, his knees threatened to give out every single time you said his name. 'i've fallen for you, too.' you knew the deep shit you'd be in if anyone found out but in the moment, in that place, labels didn't exist.

his eyes fell shut as he leaned into your touch, breath shaky. for the first time in such a long time, he felt a sliver of hope. he felt, even if for the briefest of seconds, some type of peace. 'but.. what does this mean for us..? what can we even do.. how can we make it work?' he couldn't believe he was asking such things.

you just smiled, attempting to reassure him as you thumb moved over his cheek. 'we'll figure it okay, okay? one step at a time.'

standing there in silence, you held onto each other tightly, both lost in thought of how you were going to navigate the world from both sides without losing yourselves. for the first time, tomura felt like had had something, someone, worth the fighting. this time, not out of hate.

✧*̥˚ the first date *̥˚✧

a couple of weeks after the confession was the day neither of you expected to come. the sun was beginning to set over the abandoned park, painting it gold and making it seem so surreal; it was the perfect spot to meet up away from the city. it offered peace.

tomura showed up first, hands in his pockets and trying not to press his nails against thighs shielded only by thin material. never in a million years did he think he would be waiting to meet up with a pro for anything other than conflict. the confession had been intense and overwhelming and agreeing to go on a date, well.. it was uncharted, somewhat scary territory.

as you approached, you managed to catch his gaze as it lifted. he couldn't help but think of how different you looked in casual attire, bringing the tiniest of smiles to his lips.

'you're here,' he mumbled, the mix of relief and nervousness making him want to curse under his breath. he still wasn't wanting to be so open with how his head was working.

'where else would i be?' you mused, offering a warm smile in return. 'come on, let's go.'

as you began to walk, he fell into step beside you, flinching when your arm looked with his own. it was quiet for the most part, the occasional crunch of leaves and rustle of wind breaking into the silence. it was comfortable, just roaming along. it felt normal.

'so,' you began, looking over to him, 'what do you like to do, hm?'

being interesting was something he wasn't and the question made him shrug a little. 'i.. don't really know. it's been a while since i've thought about those things or had the time to.. do anything outside of, you know, the villain stuff.'

'"the villain stuff"', you snickered, finding the answer amusing though not trying to mock him. 'i understand that.. i haven't had many hobbies myself since, well, the hero stuff, i guess.'

the walk lead to a small bench, surrounded by overgrown grass and little flowers, offering an odd sense of welcoming. you sat down first, followed by him, though he was hesitant. it all felt so domestic to him, like his normal life was so distant. he wasn't sure how to relax and accept how at ease he felt.

'what about.. any favorite places?' you asked, this time a little more quiet, attempting to draw him out of his thoughts.

he thought a second 'oh.. there was a place i used to go, some years back. an arcade.. i liked the games, all the lights.. the ugly carpet. i felt like i could be normal there.'

feeling the urge to frown at the last part, you shook it off and gently nudged him. 'arcade? maybe we can go find one someday.. play some games, be normal people.' you understood the struggle with being normal, even if it had two different reasonings.

he couldn't fight the smile that appeared, looking down to hide it from you. 'yeah.. maybe.' he felt like he was trying to fool himself, like he was playing a silly game. he thought back to how little kids would play house and it quickly turned his smile into a frown, realizing he was just playing the grown up version.

noticing the change, you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder. 'we'll get there.. i promise.'

you both sat there for a while, letting the sun go down and leaving you to look up at the night sky, content to pretend nothing else mattered. you talked about little things, even going as far as to share stories from your childhood that garnered your most favorite sound; tomura laughing. it was foreign but you found yourself just falling deeper.

sighing, you both leaned back, relaxing against each other. 'it's beautiful, isn't it?' you mumbled, referring to the sky.

tomura's gaze never left your face, not bothering to look up or even figure out what you meant. 'yeah,' he answered softly. a warmth spread through him that he'd never felt before, finally understanding that the connection.. you, in general, was something he'd been missing. it was so much more than breaking rules, lying, defying labels' he was finding a piece of himself that he'd thought dead and gone.

when you turned to find his gaze on you, your own softened and you leaned just enough to bump the tips of your noses together. he still wasn't used to the affection. 'thank you for tonight. i know.. this isn't easy.. and, i don't know where it's going to go but i'm glad we're here. trying.'

with a deep breath, he shifted around to sit sideways and face you, hesitantly taking your hand along the way. 'me too.'

you laced your fingers with his own, head tipped back against the bench to look at him in the new position, gaze full of nothing but warmth. that's how you both stayed for a while, well into the early morning, just talking. both of you felt a glimmer of hope, the promise of some type of breakthrough. something real. that could possibly make sense one day.

✧*̥˚ breaking point *̥˚✧

as the numbers on your clock switched to shine back at you just how late it was, you took a deep breath and decided it was finally time to try and sleep. it was normal for you to be awake past midnight but you just felt so drained. as you rose to head for bed, you were stopped by the faint sound of a knock at the front door. the sound put you on edge and you moved to check through the security screen, eyes widening at what you saw.

tomura was at your door, hood pulled low to mostly shield his features. something about it made your stomach twist, feeling like something was wrong and you were quick to open the door, pulling him inside. the last thing you needed was for him to get caught.

'tomura, what are you doing here?' you asked, concern evident in your voice. out of pure instinct, you began checking to see if he was hurt, heart racing.

he caught your wrists carefully to stop you, shaking his head. you took notice of how he was trembling, how his eyes flickered around the unfamiliar setting of your apartment as if someone was going to jump out and end your little game.

'i didn't know where to go,' he finally answered, voice raw and broken. 'everything.. everything is.. it's too much. i don't even know what to believe anymore.'

you were confused and worried. the man before you most definitely wasn't the one who was trying to kill you almost two years ago but he also wasn't the one who had spent several nights on a park bench laughing with you. you gently got your wrists free and guided him to the couch. 'talk to me, what happened?'

as he sat down, he held his hands in front of him, arms resting on his knees. he stared at them as if they were foreign to him, gaze filled with desperation and fear. 'do you know how long i've spent being told what to do.. who to hate, what's good, what's bad.. and now there's you. everything is different and it's.. it's terrifying.'

you weren't going to begin to say you understood because you didn't. your struggles were on a completely different playing field. that didn't stop you from reaching out to take his hands. 'you're not alone and you're not going to ever face any of this alone. it's okay to be scared.. you're human. i don't care what anyone else has ever told you - you are human. all of this.. it's new for both of us and while i can't say i can see from your view, i will be here and we will figure it out together.'

he flinched, watching the way your hands went around his, almost like he was waiting for what would always come. he still wasn't used to it and he was so scared the one day, all it would take was the brush of his hand to lose you. 'i don't know how to do this,' he whispered with a weak, broken chuckle. 'i don't know how to be anything other than what i am. what i've been. i've barely ever been seen as human.'

it broke your heart to listen to him, wishing you could go back and change something - anything - so that he didn't have to experience what put him in such a mindset. 'i wish i could give you all the answers.. but i can't. just.. breathe, okay? i'm right here.' you shifted closer to pull him into your arms, hugging him as close as you could.

tomura didn't hesitate to hide against you, face pressed into your shoulder as he began to shake with silent sobs. he clung to you, fingers curled into your shirt, relishing in the miracle of being able to touch someone and doing his best not to think of the fact it was also a curse. maybe.. just maybe, had you not been immune, you'd both be better off.

'i've been so angry for so long,' he finally spoke again, muffled against your shoulder. 'angry at everything.. heroes, the world, myself, all of it. but you, i can't even explain.. you make me feel so much more and i don't know what to do with it. are we supposed to just.. hide for the rest of our lives..? be.. ashamed..?'

'ashamed..' you repeated, tightening your hold on him, 'i'm not ashamed.' or, were you? you told yourself you could never be ashamed to be with him but he was right, you were both hiding. you'd both be traitors, untrusted.. unwanted. 'i.. i don't know. it's not easy and.. i just don't know.'

he didn't respond and you didn't expect him to, your answer giving him next to no relief and only giving yourself more to think about. but, you stayed put for a while, holding him as he cried, letting out years of pent up emotions, the weight of fear and doubt becoming too much. slowly, his sobs began to slow and his breathing evened out. he wasn't anywhere near done but his body really had nothing left.

'thank you,' he muttered, voice hoarse as he turned his head, coughing a little. 'i.. i really don't know what i'd do without you.. how i made it this far, even.'

'you never have to worry about that,' you promised, gently brushing his hair aside. you hoped your own worry wasn't noticeable.

leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead, you pulled back slowly to get to your feet, holding out your hand. 'stay, let's go to bed. you need the rest.. away from everything.'

✧*̥˚ golden gaze *̥˚✧

off for the afternoon, you sat on your couch, head in your hands as you reflected on the events of three nights ago. seeing tomura so broken and not being able to give any answers - it put you in a place of wondering just what was going to happen. was your quirk such an unfortunate thing to put you in such a place? you didn't ask to fall in love but you knew walking away wasn't an option. you were startled out of your thoughts by a knock and honestly, you were getting nervous about visitors and upon getting up to check, you had every right to be. behind your door was hawks, his usual relaxed expression replaced with something serious. something.. dangerous.

'hey,' he greeted when you finally opened the door, his tone telling you this wasn't just a friendly visit. 'we need to talk.'

fuck.

you nodded and let him in, door closed and locked behind him. hawks made his way into the living room, golden eyes scanning out of habit and to search for something - for someone. once you were both seated, he eyed you for a moment.

'They've got me watching you. It's been two weeks now,' he said bluntly, clenching and unclenching his jaw. 'They know something's up. Suspicious as always.'

your heart sank and you knew the way you flexed your fingers and looked away said all that he needed. 'i see,' you whispered. you knew it could happen, even being so careful, and the confirmation felt like a punch to the gut. no matter how hard you tried, lying to him wasn't possible.

hawks sighed and leaned back, pushing a hand through his hair. 'Look.. we're friends, have been for a while. So, I'm gonna be straight with you and ask. Who is it? What have you been sneaking around for and do I need to put an end to it?'

you knew that fighting your best friend wasn't something impossible and as much as you'd both be against it.. you shook your head. the weight of your friendship made you tell the truth, knowing your secrets were at least in good hands. 'Tomura Shigaraki,' you confessed, looking down as your fingers gripped at your sweatpants, 'we.. we've been seeing each other. i know, i know how it sounds and it's complicated but it's real, Kei. you know i wouldn't risk so much if it wasn't.'

hawks' eyes widened before he let out a low whistle, head shaking as he let your words sink it. 'Shigaraki.. that's.. damn, that's big.' he was still processing the information, genuinely at a head with how he was supposed to react. when he was called in, he expected it to be something small. 'Can't say I'm a fan, for obvious reasons. He's dangerous, and everything he stands for goes against what all of us are fighting for.'

you didn't need to be reminded and it brought tears to your eyes, unable to stop them. 'i know, kei. but.. please, try to understand, he's different when it's just us. he's trying.. i- i feel like he could change. i believe in him.' it sounded pathetic, betting your career on love and hope.

hawks was silent for a second, analyzing you before he scooted closer, a hand settling on your shoulder. 'i won't tell anyone. the commission won't hear it from me. as far as i'm concerned, you've just been sneaking out to catch a break.'

your head snapped up, looking at him through the blur of your tears. 'thank you.. but why? you.. why would you take such a big risk..?'

he didn't want to make things morbid but it was something you'd already heard from him. he gave a sad smile, squeezing your shoulder. 'I can't take something away from someone that i've always wanted. a real connection, real love.. someone to come home to. it's rare. and if you really think he could change, maybe there's hope for you guys. i can't.. get in the way of that. you wouldn't be here, like this, if it wasn't real.'

his words only made more tears fall, the stress and anxiety of the last several days finally hitting their breaking point. 'i.. i don't know what to do, kei. h-he's scared and doesn't know what to do.. fate is s-so fucking cruel to do this to us,' you sobbed, lifting your hands slightly in a gesture, 'to put us against each o-other.. the opposite sides of a full blown w-war.. and make us love each other? why..'

shifting around, hawks pulled you into a hug, wings folding around you in a protective manner. 'it is fucked up.. but, i'm sure you're going to figure it out. you're not alone in this.'

you clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder and letting out the tears you couldn't, wanting to be strong for tomura. hawks just let you be, whispering what he could of reassurances and offering comfort that it seemed you desperately needed. as you began to gradually calm down, finding it difficult to breathe, you pulled back slightly, beyond thankful to have the blond as such a close friend.

'thank you, kei,' you whispered, wiping and rubbing at your eyes.

he shrugged, wiping away a tear from your cheek with a small smile. 'hey, what are friends for? i'll do what i can to help.. just, be careful, alright? one step at a time.'

you sat together for a while, telling him more and getting his comments. you were thankful for the support, feeling a little less suffocated by everything. the future was uncertain but you would find a way.

✧*̥˚ confrontation *̥˚✧

tomura sat at the worn out table of the hide out, one arm crossed with his forehead resting on it, lost in thought. he seemed to be going over the same thoughts as you. what he hadn't expected was the door to swing open with a harsh bang against the wall and dabi to enter, eyes bright with anger.

'it is true?' he ask, voice dripping with contempt. 'you've got to be kidding me. you're involved with a pro hero?'

he was too tired to fight. 'what if i am?' he asked, head lifting to look at him, expression unreadable. 'it's none of your business.'

his brow furrowed when the latter slammed his hand on the table, the rattle making him groan. as dabi leaned closer, eyes flickering, he knew the conversation wasn't going to end well. 'what the hell are you thinking? they're the enemy - our enemy! you're the leader of the league of villains, for fucks sake!'

he'd never exactly seen the other show that much of a reaction to something and honestly, a tiny part of him was amused. 'you're talking like you do anything but chase after your pro hero father for acknoweldgement. you're going to lecture me?'

before dabi could respond, toga had slipped into the room, a look of concern on her features. 'i think you should calm down,' she said, stepping between them. 'do you really think it's that simple? come on.'

turquoise eyes rolled and a laugh sounded, echoing in the most empty room. 'not that simple? he's fraternizing with the enemy, toga. this could destroy everything we've ever worked for.'

toga shook her head, glancing back to tomura before speaking, her tone soft but firm. 'no, it won't. shigaraki knows what he's doing. besides.. maybe this could be a good thing?'

getting up from his seat, tomura stood up, meeting dabi's gaze. 'i'm not betraying the league. i know what's at stake but.. i won't give up on them. it's making me question things, sure, but maybe toga's right.'

looking between the two of them, the oldest scoffed. 'why are either of you even here? you both sound like lovesick morons. what's next? are you going to go and beg to join them next?'

toga frowned at the words, knowing her own interaction with heroes was just as complicated. 'he's right.. we've all questioned things but we're all still here. maybe.. it'll be a push to a better path.'

his anger wavered as he looked between them once more, feeling uncertain but he was aware no one was changing their minds. 'and what happens when your precious hero betrays us? what happens when they betray you, shigaraki?'

it wasn't a thought that tomura wanted bouncing around his head, not again. his gaze hardened and his fists clenched but he had nothing to say. he trusted you but no one was going to listen. toga just looked up to him, feeling sympathy for his dilemma. he was thankful at least one person was on his side.

dabi sighed, frustrated, and just threw his hands up. 'whatever. when this backfires, don't expect me to clean up the mess.' and with that, he was already stomping off out of the room, head shaking.

'don't worry, we'll handle it together,' toga said, regaining some of her usual playfulness as she turned to face tomura. 'we always do. i'm here for you, too.'

tomura felt a slight sense of relief that it hadn't escalated any further, humming at the girl's attempt to comfort him. '..thanks, toga.. i appreciate it.'

she winked, showing off a toothy grin. 'anytime! now, let's figure out our next move, yeah?'

✧*̥˚ the delusion of a happy ending *̥˚✧

the night was quiet, eerily so as you patrolled the outskirts of town. but something felt off and you couldn't put a finger on it. the darkness felt heavy, almost suffocating as your stomach began to twist with an overwhelming sense of dread. you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong but what? everything seemed normal. nothing seemed out of place. not a soul was even in the streets.

and suddenly, the air began to thicken, crackling with what could only be a sinister energy. you shouldn't have turned around. you should have flagged the others and done your best to run but you didn't. you turned on your heel to face the one person you knew you couldn't defend yourself against. All For One stood before you, his presence felt like it was crushing you and he radiated malice.

'good evening, hero,' he began, voice mocking. 'i've been waiting to meet you.'

you hesitated before taking a defensive stance, deciding if you were going out, you'd at least try. 'what do you want?'

his response was to chuckle and it made your heart pound, skin crawling at the sound. 'you see, there's been something of a.. complication recently. shigaraki seems to have taken a liking to you and.. well, that simply won't do.'

your eyes widened, realization dawning on you. 'you.. how do you..?'

'i know everything,' he answered, tone laced with disdain, 'i cannot allow this distraction to continue. he must remained focused on our goals.'

before you could react, his hand raised and a malevolent energy began swirling about his fingers. moving didn't seem to be an option, feeling as if the air itself was keeping you glued to your spot. this was it - you were going to die and didn't even have a fighting chance. you almost laughed at how pathetic it was.

'this is for the greater good, you see?' he began coldly, 'your quirk has become quite the nuisance and i think it's time to get rid of such a pesky thing. you don't need it, right?'

reality was a cruel thing. he wasn't going to kill you. he was going to make you miserable. before you could speak, a sudden searing pain spread through your frame. it felt as if every fiber of your being was being torn apart, atom by atom and you screamed, the sound echoing through the streets.. or maybe not? no one seemed to hear it. your visioned was blurry by the time you were dropped to your knees, feeling empty and weak.

All For One stepped closer, his expression one of mild curiosity. 'it's fascinating how easily power can be taken away, isn't it,' he mused.'

as the pain subdued, you felt hollow.. a disgusting, heavy emptiness flooding you. you'd never fully understood your quirk but it had given you something so meaningful and it was gone. looking up to the man, your eyes filled with angry tears. 'you won't win,' you hissed out, nearly choking on the words, 'h-he'll see through your bullshit.'

'perhaps.'

with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows in which he came, leaving you broken on the ground. you tried to stand but your legs gave out, leaving you on the concrete to let reality fully sink in on what had happened. you were quirkless. and there was nothing you could do about it.

desperation build as you thought of tomura and you knew you needed to find him, to tell him. it took several minutes to summon any strength you had left to get to your feet, mind racing as you thought of where you could go. your secret meeting spot.. surely if he didn't hear from you, like he was supposed to, he'd look for you, right?

you stumbled through the streets, body aching and heart heavy. the cruel words of that evil man echoed through your thoughts, making you even more determined to keep going. his sick idea to not kill you but to use you against tomura made your insides burn with hatred. she felt vulnerable without her quirk but there was nothing she could do. she needed to find him.

it felt like hours before you reached the familiar spot, the bench from your first day, and collapsed onto it. your breathing was ragged and you were exhausted, pain still throbbing through your limbs. 'tomura, please..' you whispered to yourself.

it took an hour for him to appear, frantically looking for you after you didn't show up. his eyes grew wide with concern upon seeing the state you were in. 'what happened to you?' he asked, rushing to your side and instinctively reaching for you, his worry overriding his usual caution and hesitancy.

you were too slow. too slow to move, too slow to speak. before you had the chance to explain, his fingertips brushed against your arm. 'tomura, wait-!' you tried to get out, words having been caught in your throat as confusion, pain and fear filled you, overwhelming your senses. the sensation of decay was something your mind didn't even have time to describe to yourself. your eyes widened in pure horror and before he could even register what was happening, you were gone.

tomura's own eyes widened, watching his biggest fear unfolding right in front of him and it brought up too many flashbacks. 'no.. no, this.. this can't be happening,' he couldn't speak above a whisper, watching as you disintegrated and slipped through his fingers like sand. before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he fell to his knees, hands clutching the remnants of the person he'd grown to care for and love so deeply. the weight of his actions crashed down on him like a tidal wave and he could only think of one way you'd suddenly have no immunity to him.

'no!' he cried out, voice echoing through the empty alleyway, 'no, no, no..'

as he knelt there, surrounded by the dust that once had been you, someone he was willing to change so much for, he was back to the racing thoughts of conflicting emotions. the person who had made him question everything, had healed so much, that gave him hope for something better, was gone. and it was his fault. it was always his fault. he heard your voice in his head, telling him he wasn't a monster and it brought tears to his eyes.

'i am a monster,' he managed to get out, voice breaking, 'but him.. i..i trusted him.. and now.. he promised to help , to give me power.. a-all he's done it take e-everything away.. what little i had.' he didn't know how to come to terms with the new revelation, feeling like he was tearing apart at the seems. 'everything i believed in.. everything he taught me.. it was all a lie..'

'why.. why did this have to happen?' he asked himself, shaking with grief and rage. it was his fault. had he never approached you, it wouldn't have happened. the self blame hit but he was still far too angry to fully take the blame.

the reality of All For One's manipulation hit him with a harsh case of clarity. the mentor he had trusted, the one who took him in and cared for him, shaped his future.. the same man who orchestrated such a cruel fate. he felt such a burning hatred in his gut that he couldn't move. on top of his anger pressed the soul shattering guilt for what had happened, all because he was stupid enough to believe he deserved better.

as he sat their in the darkness for hours, hands stained, and weeping over the hero he loved, he no longer had any sense of purpose. who could he trust? who was right anymore..? as he let his thoughts wander, he thought back to the moment you spoke of change.. of understanding. he would carry the memory of you with him and make sure your loss wouldn't be in vain. it would be the catalyst for a new path.

as he got to his feet, elbow against the brick wall for support, he looked up to the night sky and took a deep, shaky breath. the path he was about to take was uncertain and the fight he would find himself in wasn't going to be easy - he even hoped it ended with being reconnected with you. but he would fight for a future that could honor your memory and he would find his own way, free from anyone else's control.

✧*̥˚ a tiny little bonus *̥˚✧

the sun was shining brightly over the campus, casting a warm glow over the students wandering across the grass, most likely trying to get to classes. among them, you walked between your two friends - toya and himiko. the group was chatting, laughing away as they discussed what they would get up to once all of their classes were over.

you were just starting your second year of college along with himiko, following behind toya who was in his third. the small blond girl added an bright, infectious energy to the conversation as she talked with her hands, excitedly talking about a project she was working on. toya on the other hand, while being interested, complained about his own project that he wasn't even sure would be finished in time. the day felt like quite an adventure to you, just nodded along and commenting when there was an opening.

as they walked, your attention was caught by a passing group of students - one in particular. a young man with disheveled black hair and soft red eyes, licking over his lips when one of his friends made a comment about them being dry. you bit back a chuckle when hearing a rebuttal about seasonal allergies. she couldn't ignore the way something tugged at her mind.

tenko was a transfer student who'd spent the past week unpacking and getting his schedule squared away, had somehow already made a small group of friends despite his seemingly introverted manner. as he walked, nudging one of the guys teasing him, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation, feeling eyes on him and he stopped, turning around to catch your's gaze.

for a moment, time seemed to stand still. the world faded out and all they saw was each other, a familiar tug pulling at each other their hearts.

in your head, an familiar scene played, showing them in a pro hero costume, standing beside shigaraki in the dark alley. his gaze held fear and longing and you were brushing over his cheek, whispering that it would be okay. the memory seemed to bring tears to your eyes.

tenko, on the other hand, could see the moment he'd finally understood his quirk wasn't going to work. his hand was on your cheek, relief flooding him at the smallest touch. the raven was confused but it felt so.. familiar.

'hey, you okay?' himiko's voice broke through the spell and you blinked, head tipping towards her.

'oh.. sorry, i..' you began, pursing your lips, 'i thought i saw someone i knew..'

toya's eyebrow went up, glancing towards the young man then back. 'you know him?'

you shook your head with a frown. 'no but.. it feels like i should..? i just.. i just saw.. you know what, forget it? i sound crazy.'

tenko felt a familiar pull and as he kept walking, something told in to stop. he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew you, seemingly in another life, and he couldn't get himself to keep moving. the sensation was so unbelievably strong, he turned around and looked for you once more.

he didn't have a choice as he began moving towards you, heart beating harsh in his chest. 'excuse me,' he called, '..y/n?' he wasn't sure where the name came from but as he looked in your eyes, he felt an overwhelming wave of emotions, too many pictures rolling through his thoughts.

hearing the name, you looked up at him. 'tomura..?' you whispered.

himiko and toya had stepped back, exchanging curious glances but staying silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

as you went to offer a hand to him, another student bumped him into you and the touch alone brought everything back. both of your memories from your past life flooding back like a dam had broken. both of you were shown the final moments of your relationship. and something in you broke, even dropping your bag.

'you.. you went against.. him..?' you asked, already throwing your arms around him as tears welled up in your eyes. you knew you shouldn't be upset but he wouldn't be standing in front of you had he not passed soon after.

'for you.' was his only answer, arms going around you tightly.

as the two of you stood, clinging to each other, whispering and sniffling, toya nudged himiko. 'did we just witness some reincarnation soulmate shit..?' he whispered, though he couldn't help but smile.

himiko nodded, offering him a toothy grin in return. 'fate really is weird, huh?' she asked, nudging him back. 'wonder if either of us have soulmates out there.'

the white haired male shrugged, tossing his bag over his shoulder. 'who knows.. wonder what kinda people we were, though.'

when the two of you pulled back, hands laced and prepared to face a whole new life together, you turned to face your friends. 'i'm sure we were friends in our past lives, too,' you chimed, being at least a little hopeful. none of your memories with each other showed them. soulmate stuff was weird, you decided.

himiko leaned down to pick up your discarded back. 'i'm sure we were all friends in all of our past lives.. just like we'll be in the next.'

everyone smiled and fell into step. tenko had waved back to his friends to go on without him and you resumed your conversation about plans, automatically pulling the raven into the middle of them.

'my dad's throwing some weird party for my brother.. you guys want to just hang out at my place?' toya asked, looking over the group. 'you can bring your new boyfriend.'

you rolled your eyes. 'wonder if your dad is this.. creepily.. attached to you and your siblings in another life. i'm pretty sure most of your house is covered in family portraits.'

'you realize i moved to a dorm just so i could breathe, right? he's like.. i don't even know how to explain it. he's like those t.v dad's that are so.. perfect? it's annoying.'

himiko laughed. 'you're upset because you have a loving family? that's soooo weird.'

toya clicked his tongue and reached to pinch her arm. 'you live on campus too, you know?'

you listened to them bicker, content to lean into tomura's side, peeking up at him as you walked. he glanced down at you, leaning to press a kiss against your forehead.

maybe, you thought, this life would treat you better.

[poppurini]

— new post ᵎ iuuru presents . . . “Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought.” ft. ace, leona, idia, lilia, sebek

gn reader

˖ ace trappola

“Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, you have a crush on—” a flappy exercise book slapped across Epel’s face and the boy cursed. “What the hell?!”

Ace rubs his face then remains in that position with his head hung low. You? As in, you? Ain’t no way. You two have been friends for so long! Well, he does feel happier and more excited whenever he speaks to you…and texting you (especially late at night) about random, idiotic stuff puts a smile on his face…and that specific feeling in his chest— but that just means he likes you as a friend, right?

“Wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

˖ leona kingscholar

It didn’t take long for him to realise this ridiculous feelings for you, but it sure did take a century for him to come to terms with it, to admit that he has fallen for you. Naturally, Leona have decided to bury this emotion deep inside—like how he does with everything—concealing it with feigned neutrality, boredom or even distaste if he’s desperate enough towards you.

Such a fleeting attraction would go away eventually, except that it’s not going quick enough for his liking. It’s been months and he’s still thinking about you whenever he’s alone with his thoughts. Still subconsciously look out for your scent or figure. Still stares a little longer than he should when you’re in his vicinity. Still sigh and groan heavily before slamming a pillow on his face because you’re always on his mind. What’s worse is the feelings felt good whenever he thinks of you, or when he meets your eyes.

˖ idia shroud

Came to this conclusion one fateful day in class, his hair instantly went pink the moment he realises! He was so embarrassed that he had to excuse himself in a panic and scurry out of the classroom, almost tripping over air.

Locks himself in his room even longer now—if possible—and hides in his sheets to think about how he’s going to deal with…this. At some point he’d groan and grip on his hot pink hair because it is suuuch a hassle to have them change colour whenever he so much as think of you or simply just walking past your classroom. Confessing his feelings is definitely out of the question because who in their right mind would think you’re gonna accept someone like him?! That’s just wishful thinking. He’s introverted and awkward and a loner and could barely hold a conversation and you’re, well, nothing like him. Yeah, this’ll go away.

˖ lilia vanrouge

“Oh dear.” Leans his head against his palm before chuckling with a shake of head, Lilia concludes he does, in fact, have feelings for you. What to do? He’s a little troubled. You’re a mortal and he’s not, it’s already crystal clear that things between you two wouldn’t work as you will pass way before he would. There’s no point in pursuing.

But this feeling…how long has it been. Besides, Lilia isn’t one to fall easily. He feels like the right decision is to seal it away, continue to act as you’re nothing but a friend. However, he feels a heavy regret forming already. If you’re observant enough, you’ll notice a small change in his behaviour towards you. Just a little.

˖ sebek zigvolt

Outrageous! Absolutely preposterous! The boy desperately asks for Lilia to please stop heaving and slapping the table so much that the tea set almost falls. With all due respect, Lilia must be mistaken!

Is genuinely confused about his feelings. There is no way he fell for a human. A human! Do you hear him? A human! It has become such a disturbance that he finds himself distracted during duty— either plagued by the thought of his feelings for you or the thought of you. He loathes it— hey, doesn’t this make him a hypocrite? Sebek is definitely the kind to let out his frustrations by working out and…be…loud about it. A sudden “No!” and aggressive shake of head in a perfectly quiet and serene atmosphere. Poor roommates.

≡ homepage

[barbswo]

“You know Shakespeare?”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Theo stepped over someone’s backpack, getting closer, “and yes, I know Shakespeare. I’m not a cave person.”

“Right, you are a sewer person,” corrected Liam. Theo narrowed his eyes at him.

It was unfair: how extraordinarily attractive he was. Liam had recognized it before it had become a problem, but acknowledging it was like getting voluntarily tested with wolfsbane.

He hated and admired and loathed and adored that boy, and it was complex, contradictory and highly screwed-up, and it confused Liam ever since the Wild Hunt, when he’d realized that his heterosexual scooter had gotten hit by a bisexual paver. Theo wasn’t a really amiable person, because he was a psychotic egoist, a murderer and a snake, as tender as a poker and as blunt as lightning.

It just happened so that Liam discovered that he also had a very pretty smile and a great sense of humor, which Theo let shine through when he felt like it. And that knowledge, accompanied with tension that came with living through an actual war, being hunted, fighting with claws and teeth for freedom, being saved over and over again by the enemy… it was confusing, but before Liam could act on anything, Theo ran away.

So yes, he wasn’t being nice. Sue him.

“Why is there glitter in your hair?” Asked Theo instead of coming up with a clever insult, and Liam’s hand immediately shot up.

“I’m a fairy.”

More about Liam being a “fairy” and Thiam’s pining: ����“Hunting Hearts”🍎 by l_t_m on ao3.

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 25

Pyrrha really is committed to mentioning that she found Gideon’s mother attractive in every conversation that she has with her, i admire the dedication 

haha what the fuck is this. Kiriona Gaia Her Divine Highness

MUMFUCKER PRIME ngl the bad jokes are mostly the only reason i’m pretty sure this is actually Gideon and not some doppelganger. idk whether its all the trauma she’s built up over the last two books or just having to be in the general proximity of Ianthe and John for an extended period of time, but something is up with this gal

'Judith Deuteros for some reason’ i relate to this on a fundamental level given i genuinely didn’t realise that Judith was here until this moment

as much as it pains me that two of my favourite characters immediately Do Not Vibe with eachother, Gid being a dick to Nona makes sense given Nona is currently occupying the body of the person Gideon cares the most about in the world, who is themselves god-only-knows-where rn. props to Tamsyn Muir for making the bold creative choice to have her protagonists all just fucking loathe each other at some point

okay there is no way in hell that Gideon actually wants to go back to the ninth for nostalgia. unless it's nostalgia for dunking on Crux

‘it was not a very friendly smile [...] there was something a little bit hungry about it’ haha what the fuck. really said let’s dial up the ‘came back wrong’ trope to eleven here. what in the Jason Todd is this

well miss ‘I am the Emperor’s construct’ has come a long way since ‘Go to hell Pops’, this was NOT what i meant when i said i wanted more of Gideon and John interacting this book 😭😭

tamsyn muir really said ‘oh you want Gideon back? i’m going to give you what you want in the most painful way possible’ huh. this is uh somehow worse than her dying actually :)

Gideon actually knowing anything about necromancy is the most disturbing part of all of this. what happened Gid i thought you and me were on a team of this ‘necromancy is confusing as all hell’ thing. can’t believe you’d betray me like this smh

also given we last saw Gid finding out she was born as a ‘bomb’ to open the tomb, and how much she hated everything about the Ninth other than Harrow, i am very concerned about why she suddenly wants to come with to open the Tomb

the saddest girl in the whole world is Gideon??? GIDEON?? the presence of Noodle in this book lulled me into a false sense of security so that i forgot just how much this series loves breaking my heart over and over again 

i know everyone already knows from the broadcast (and possibly before if Pyrrha told them) but i do wonder how Corona, and Pal & Cam etc. reacted to finding out Gideon was God’s daughter. imagine having to deal with the revelation that the deity you are becoming increasingly disillusioned with has a kid that spent much of the time you knew her making terrible sex jokes

[sorcerous-caress]

For some Wyll angst, do you think you could write something where Tav is a tiefling and they're a bit insecure about their budding relationship with Wyll because he hates his devilish appearance so they're like “how could he possibly be attracted to me” (— Wyll girl dad anon)

Wyll with an insecure tiefling Tav

[Angst, comfort, image issues, tiefling Reader, nb!reader]

[Part of the Wyll's Week event]

You really tried to not let it get to you.

Each time he made a demeaning comment about his new appearance.

Sneered at the reflection of his horns, ones just like yours.

The way he stiffened when someone would focus on his red eye with the black sclera, preferring they face the sending stone one instead.

He has every right to be upset about his appreance getting forcibly changed.

And yet, despite it all, every word dug into your heart as if they were told to you personally.

Devil, demon, hellspawn, the humans loathed your kind.

You thought he was different, when you saw him being so gentle with the tiefling kids.

But a human, will always be a human.

Fear of the unknown, of what lurks behind the curtains, it was always a great motivator for the human kind.

Your horns, your tail, your bright flaming eyes and colorful vibrant skin.

Things your own mother celebrated in you as a kid.

Things your own father boosted about with pride.

Things that once were beautiful.

Marked you as a monster to the world.

Even when you fell in love with this world, left the safe nest of your own people to go explore.

it never loved you back.

So why would he love you back?

You don't remember when it started, but slowly, eventually, your beautiful reflection in the mirror twisted and cracked everyday.

Until you too, could only see the monster the other claimed you to be.

You thought he could see the beauty in you, that you too have a soul.

You were a fool.

Why would he see that when he can't see it in himself? Why would he love you when he is clearly disgusted by the idea of being like you.

You thought humans were pretty, plain yes, but pretty in their simplicity.

And even when he lost his resemblance to his own kin, you still thought that he was pretty.

Charming, beautiful, mesmerising, so many words could describe Wyll and fail to give him justice.

The lovely horns that felt like they were the missing piece to yours, the mapping of his skin with the ridges and pumps that made him even more sharper.

He clearly thought differently.

And so to protect yourself, you took a step back.

Distaned your heart, pulled back your curtains.

Wyll noticed it of course, your sudden change of heart.

But like any proper gentleman, he never addressed it, never felt like he had the right to when the two of you barely even shared a kiss.

You couldn't avoid him forever.

And so he waited until the celebration to approach you, to open the topic.

He was delicate with it, always knew how to spin his words correctly.

You were kind, always knew how to evade a topic politely.

An endless dance that was growing tiring as the night went on, as people retired to their tents.

Leaving just you and Wyll.

His flirting, words that once fluttered your heart, stung like a needle through it instead.

How could he possibly be attracted to you?

And you told him so, as you were getting fed up with this whole situation.

Told him to drop the act, he doesn't have to pretend to find you not hideous just because you're the group leader.

There was genuine suprise in Wyll's eyes, a flash of disbelief.

And for a moment the mask dropped, his charming flamboyant words that are usually dressed up were bare and forward instead.

Asking why do you think he's pretending

Why would he ever find you hideous.

You were more confused by the second, is he feigning innocence? Or is he making fun of you?

Does he think you're a fool?

The dome collapsed and the walls cracked as your heart poured out all of the pain it contained inside, each and every one of his passing comments that were ingrained in your brain like a parasite digging at your skull whenever you thought you had a chance.

Mocking you for thinking a monster can be anything but a monster, for thinking a human can see humanity in others.

As you recalled every word you were a witness to, Wyll was horrifed by the end of it.

Of himself.

The raging flames of anger amidst your chest weren't rejected by him, but welcomed as he stepped into the flames and didn't attempt to forcefully douse them.

Instead, he apologied.

To you, for everything he said, for his naive ignorance, for being too obsorbed in his own view of what makes a human a human to truly comprehend what he was condeming.

Who he was condemning.

For it wasn't the devils he ended up cursing, but the innocent tieflings he was attempting to save.

How unaware he was in his blinded rage, damming the ones he was trying to protect.

Hurting the one person he loved.

Love.

For you were not a monster in his eyes, you were love, pure in essence, raging flames in passion, beautiful in core.

He confessed how he almost didn't believe his eyes when he saw you, almost questioned reality. For how could one person put the sun to shame? How could one person rival the moon in grace?

And again, he apologiesed.

The night ended quietly.

And you noticed how Wyll lingered more and more on his own reflection.

Looked at his own horns the same way he admired yours when he thought no one was looking.

Traced the ridges on his face, gently.

And then you noticed it, a single charm.

A subtle gold trinket that one puts at the end of their horn.

Strangely, he only wore one, yet you were sure they came in a pair.

At the end of that day, you found the matching charm inside your tent with a letter underneath.

Your eyes scanned the paper, taking in the carefully written lines, the cursive words.

You held the charm in the other hand.

And nothing ever, could compare to Wyll's smile the next day as he saw you wearing it.

Although he would object, for he claims your own smile, sharp teeth and all, would make the flowers bloom in adoration.

And in a way, you were starting to see your own face again, your own reflection again.

The same could be said for Wyll, for his own monster too, quietly went to bed whenever you were around.

[wordsinhaled]

thinking about hell as being, inherently, a place that makes one both vulnerable, and enables them to be more vulnerable, either for the better or to their detriment...

in hell simon is able to express to edwin his deepest feelings, his admiration of and attraction to edwin, his misgivings, embarrassment, shame, and self-loathing about his identity, which he couldn't access on earth and masked with bullying while he and edwin were alive. edwin expresses back the confused nascent feelings he'd had for simon back then and hadn't been able to parse or express properly while alive

while he's in hell edwin is stripped down to his undergarments, and immediately manifests back his multiple layers of clothes once he's back on the earthly plane. and ultimately he makes his confession to charles there, too

edwin and charles are able to speak to each other in hell more candidly than they usually do on earth. there's the thoroughness with which charles takes the time to respond to edwin's confession - reflecting the true depth of thought he always puts into all his interactions with edwin, under the surface (taking careful note of his body language and what it means, for example, as in the moment when he pointed out that edwin only clenches his fists when he's really tense). but this time he is able to express his care out loud, in words. note how edwin tells charles readily to his face that he is the best person he knows, while charles is able to tell the night nurse (without charles present) that edwin is the best person he knows and argues for him not deserving hell - all this without edwin present

and even in hell (where it's easier to be vulnerable!) the roots of trauma run so deep that charles struggles with the concept of deserving a deeper than surface-level sort of love from the best person he knows, an in-love sort of love, and his own capacity to reciprocate it without mucking it up or continuing the cycle of abuse. he tries to deflect the depth of edwin's love and doubts his own capacity to return it: "great. love you too - can we go?"

love you too is easy, it's the kind of thing you say to your mate on the way out the door or to your auntie on the phone, it doesn't have to mean much; charles has plenty of love for anyone and everyone he meets, including edwin. especially edwin. and there's the thinking it's some sort of an orpheus-and-eurydice thing even without knowing the tragic ending - that edwin's love could be a trap, a ploy, not real, designed to turn him around and keep him stuck in hell, is easier to grapple with than the idea that he is purely and unselfishly loved. edwin loves him without the expectation of return; wants him to know simply because he thinks charles rowland should know how much he is loved. and charles balks at first at reckoning with that! but being in hell, he's able to work past that to express to edwin how much he truly means to him.

contrast this with the moment when edwin tries to bring up his confession, back on earth, trying to suss out if it made things awkward between them, now - and all he can get out of charles is a clipped, short, "it didn't."

but you would certainly think so given how far apart they're sitting, on the rooftop, nearly on opposite sides of it, and facing opposite directions, when so often they are next to one another, looking at one another, aligned. being in hell allowed them to be physically closer in proximity, to touch each other in more intimate ways more readily - i'm thinking about how gently charles takes edwin's hand down from covering his mouth, and continues to hold it. on earth it takes charles thinking they're seconds away from losing each other properly, that they are at last going to actually and definitively be wiped out of existence and denied an eternity together, to reach out and take edwin's hand seconds before the forest elemental swallows them up.

edwin was already ready to engage in this vulnerability before he ever got dragged down to hell a second time. he planned a confession to charles on earth, regardless of and without assumptions on the outcome, never even knowing it might be one of his last chances to do it. he dressed notably nice for it and everything, breaking his own norm because he committed to making it special.

edwin doesn't belong in hell - his soul, his existence, breaks the system and creates glitches and defies the night nurse's logic about the afterlife. hell can't hold him because he has already embraced vulnerability in ways many or most of the other characters are still working towards (possibly he has done this work twice over, if we hold that he had to do some level of self-acceptance to be able to find his way out of hell the first time).

i'm wondering if edwin and despair are "friends now" because edwin has overcome so much of his existential despair. i think the reason she says she will call on him if she ever needs him hinges on this - the hope of escaping despair is, in fact, essential to the feeling of despair, because in recognizing the absence of hope that things will get better, one starts to feel despair, right? and in order to recognize despair one must know what despair is not. and so she needs edwin because he can represent the opposite of her to others; he has been touched by her and steeped in her power and overcome it

i think the show does an absolutely fantastic job of delving into the concept from sandman i've always thought was so fascinating, the concept of hell not being a place you go, but something you carry with you. that it is actually something deeply internal and through that internal work it can be overcome

anyway i don't even know where i'm going with this at this point but i hope what i've said makes sense. tl;dr like... hell as the plane of vulnerability??? intimacy??? authenticity??? edwin payne i admire you, and charles rowland i love you and you deserve love, and despair you are my queen i'm so glad they did you justice

[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."

[suiana]

✎ yandere! poet headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― violence, long paragraphs💀, annoying yandere etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! poet who always found inspiration from the new and unique. so of course he would be entranced by you. after all, there is no one else quite as enigmatic as you.

✎ yandere! poet who observes you from afar, analysing you and your actions. of course he also makes the effort to know you better! your character is far too complex for him to only observe from far away.

✎ yandere! poet who likes to talk in funny and confusing language. he likes seeing your puzzled face while trying to figure out what his words mean. oh darling, you're so adorable, trying to overanalyze his words that aren't that deep! just because he's a poet doesn't mean that each and every sentence of his has a deep meaning behind them :)

✎ yandere! poet who is just as strange and weird as you are. I mean, that could be the reason why he took an interest in you in the first place. he never really saw the appeal in conforming to societal standards. he prefers to stand out, just like you do.

✎ yandere! poet who loves annoying you. especially with his sophisticated and confusing sentences. you shouldn't expect a break with this man because you're the first person whom he has taken interest in and he's going to make full use of that. I mean truth be told, he would never find someone as captivating and fascinating as you ever again. you are one of a kind, and that's why he fell for you.

✎ yandere! poet who would actually scare people away with how strange he is. he used to find it a pity that this happened but after he met you...it's actually pretty useful for when he finds someone messing with his dearest muse. like go away! go be mean to someone else. 8 billion people in this world and you had to bother his love? go away before he carves you out. he'll actually murder the bully if they don't leave.

✎ yandere! poet who writes for you whenever you're feeling down. he won't force you to talk but he certainly would try his best to cheer you up :) he loathes seeing his darling upset after all. because when you're sad, he gets negatively affected as well and he won't be able to write for the rest of the day :(

✎ yandere! poet who is a giant romanticist. he's the type of guy who would buy you flowers and write lengthy and detailed love letters as a declaration of his love. he thinks that it's normal and only right for him to do so because he's courting you! he thinks that the new generation is doomed because why wouldn't you treat your love romantically when you want their affection?

✎ yandere! poet who despises cursing. he thinks that it's crude and so ungentlemanly! there are so many ways to describe your emotions and to resort to cursing? that's a big no from him. besides, he thinks they don't roll off his tongue well. why curse when you could say "you uneducated swine, all that is coming out of your mouth is blasphemy and a string of incoherent nonsense!" you'll look so much smarter as well :( but he doesn't mind if you curse, he thinks it's endearing to an extent. just don't curse all the time, it will tick him off.

✎ yandere! poet who is just so dedicated to his craft that it's so attractive to you. you will never meet someone as dedicated to something as he is. because not only does he believe in giving your all into whatever you're passionate about, he's also a super motivated person. that's actually super hot, like imagine seeing him being super focused while writing a love poem dedicated to you 🤤

✎ yandere! poet who never expects you to return his feelings. yet, he still writes you love poems, sends you flowers and is always there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on. he's a gentleman and he will act like one even if you don't like him back. don't worry, he won't kidnap or kill you, but that doesn't mean you can like someone else. no, it's either him or no one. don't be picky darling.

✎ "but my love, for you, I would dye the grasslands red, in the blood of those that wronged you. I would drown the world in endless essays about my desire that burns so brightly for you. I would even wage war with the heavens above if it meant being away from you... all while never expecting you to reciprocate my never ending passion and love, that yearns ever so earnestly for you."