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churchofsatannews · 20 days

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Celebrating Anton Szandor LaVey

Today, those who have embraced the title Satanist might recall that it is the anniversary of the birth of Magus Anton Szandor LaVey. We owe him a debt for crafting a rational, skeptical, pragmatic philosophy which embraces the human animal for all the glories and ghastliness of which our species is capable. He properly named it after Satan, that grand, mythical adversary of all stultifying…

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#anton szandor lavey #carnal religion #Church of Satan #Indulgence #Magus LaVey #materialism #rational self-interest #Satanism

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foreverpraying · 1 year

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Jindřich Tomec: Solemn Mass in the Hofburg chapel

“Here is the fundamental difference between the man of faith and the man of unbelief. The unbeliever is “of the world” and judges everything by worldly standards, views life from the standpoint of time and sense, and weighs everything in the balances of his own carnal making.

But the man of faith brings in God, looks at everything from His standpoint, estimates values by spiritual standards, and views life in the light of eternity. Doing this, he receives whatever comes as from the hand of God.

Doing this, his heart is calm in the midst of the storm. Doing this, he rejoices in hope of the glory of God.“ Arthur Pink: The Sovereignty of God

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enlargemycoast3 · 9 months

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This is lengthy, but shows the very life of God can only be known through our spirits for God is spirit.

The Spiritual Life. Read (Romans 8:1-17), (Galatians 5:13-26) We can be saved, but yet not spiritual. Anything outside of living by and in accordance with the spirit becomes a life of religious works produced by the flesh which is always against the things of God and will lead to ( spiritual death). We can have the spirit of Christ within us by believing on Him and yet never follow after Him, His word, His precepts, His commands. Our works though good, will be works produced from our flesh(from a carnal mind, one that is not renewed by the word and living accordingly) and will not remain (John 15). We want fruit produced by the spirit which only comes from a life led by the spirit. When we have truly made Jesus the Lord of our lives not just savior, we will live lives that are changed according to the nature of Christ and this is a daily walk. Not once saved always saved, but a daily choice is made to follow after the spirit and with a heart that belongs to Christ, we wont sin and the struggle of sin is gone. (1 John 3:6) No one who lives in him keeps on sinning. No one who continues to sin has either seen him or known him).

Choose to follow after the spirit, for this life is eternal and will always remain.

(Matthew 7:16-19) 16 By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? 17 Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. 18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them).

(Romans 8)1Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you a free from the law of sin and death. 3For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, b God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. c And so he condemned sin in the flesh, 4in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

5Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God.

9You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, they do not belong to Christ. 10But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life d because of righteousness. 11And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of e his Spirit who lives in you.

12Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. 13For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.

14For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. f And by him we cry, “Abba, g Father.” 16The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

(Galatians 13-26) 13You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh a ; rather, serve one another humbly in love. 14For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” b 15If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.

16So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever c you want. 18But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.

19The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 26Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

#jesus #life #answers #godlovesyou #love #religion #fruit #spiritual #flesh #carnal mind #renewed mind #the word of god #Bible #christianity #sin #spirit

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devourable · 6 months

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your first time • yanderes x reader, part one

nsfw, minors and ageless dni ;; smut (duh), virgin top x bottom gn reader, various kinks that will be tagged per character.

ft. abraham (yandere church boy), sterling (yandere prodigy), gene (yandere hacker), tobias and sebastian (yandere best friends), and mykolas (yandere monster)

this part will just be the guys (excluding the delinquents)! i wanted to put most of my polyamorous groups as well as the girls and enbies in part two. decided last minute to change it a bit and make it sort of ambiguous as to if the reader is a virgin or not. regardless!

thanks again for 2k 🫶

the church boy — abraham atkins ;; dacryphilia, elements of sizeplay, mentions of religion

abraham thought his first time would be well into the future, after he’d gotten married at his church and whisked off to start his own family like his father before him. it was just a part of life to him, not something to really care about or look forward to; but it was supposed to happen that way. but abe… he just couldn’t resist you!

he knew he shouldve stopped you the moment you had found yourself on his lap, pinning him to his bed after what was supposed to be an sleepover had gone completely off course. and he should’ve stopped you when you got your tongue in his mouth, grinded on him, getting him hard for practically the first time in his life. he should’ve stopped things before they went too far — but he couldn’t stop you. or himself, after he started to clumsily hump you back, his hands finding and delicately groping your ass in an attempt to figure out how he could fit against you best. abe has such an innocent hunger about him, he so desperately wants more — more what, exactly? he doesn't really know. you definitely end up having to take lead because he wholeheartedly doesn't know what he's doing.

but once you coax him out of his nerves and a bit of trial and error (he absolutely wouldn't have fit in you dry; and even after you taught him how to work you open and got his dick wet enough, it was still a tight fit!), you finally, finally get him inside you. and abe, poor abe didn't even know what hit him. despite the tears tumbling down his face purely from how good you felt around him, despite the deep rooted guilt of committing such a sin with the one he loved clawing at his chest, he couldn’t help how brutally he ended up fucking you. he’d pour out all of his pent up desire into you in one night, fucking you through climax after climax till you were seeing stars too.

the prodigy — sterling cygnus ;; overstimulation, risky(ish) setting/exhibitionism

it must all be a game to you, his feelings and this weird dynamic in your relationship. even when the two of you actually start dating (…sorta), he still had it in his head that you were just trying to fuck with him. what other reason could there be to explain how he felt aside from it being your fault?

it was when the two of you were in his dorm that he actually decided to push your boundaries, see what you would let him do before your ‘facade’ finally cracked. but you didn’t stop him when he pinned you against your bed, or when he started kissing you, or when the kiss transformed into an unintentionally heated makeout session. it wasn’t until you had started to pull off your shirt and palm at him through his pants that he started to think that you might’ve actually wanted him.

sterling didn’t really know how it went so far, but he stopped caring when the absolute carnal need to just feel you took over his brain. you must’ve assumed that he didn’t know how to make you feel good because he’s inexperienced, right? no? well, he doesn’t believe you. and to ensure you do, you’re not getting out of that dorm until he’s made you cum on him again, and again, and again. you’d have to think he’s playing with you at some point with how often he switches between fucking you and fingering you — he insists on making you cum both ways as many times as you can handle. he’s rattling the walls and got you sobbing his name so loud that no doubt the entire dorm can hear you (the walls were never that thick to begin with anyway). he relishes in not only knowing he’s completely claimed you, but now all of your colleagues will know too. he doesn’t care how much of a mess he’s making with your insides or how much of him spills out of you, nor does he care if you’re exhausted and sore from the waist down. you’re not done until he’s done with you — and being the overachiever he is, who knows when that’ll be? he’d hate to leave you thinking he’s anything but your number one.

the hacker — gene eliades ;; a lil dubcon-y, filming w/o reader’s knowledge

gene had waited for you to make a move on him first, he really did. he even tried enticing you in his own way, always sitting with his legs open so you could see the very clear outline of his dick through his pants, sitting you on his lap when he was working and keeping a hand on your body at all times. he’d kiss you, tell you how crazy you drove him, anything to give you an idea of what he wanted. but you never took that extra step and it left him wondering if it was because you were toying with him or if you really were that dense. either way, he had had enough, and after one particular day where the need burning in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t go away, he decided that he wouldn’t wait anymore.

when you tried to slip off of his leg to do something, his arm curled around your waist and pulled you square into his lap, making sure you felt every inch of his erection against your ass. you were so irresponsible, constantly getting him riled up and never doing anything about it. did you even like him at all? regardless of your answer he was already sliding his hands under your clothes, groping your chest with one and working your bottoms down with the other.

it was unceremonious, the way gene bent you over his desk and buried himself up to the hilt in you before you could even voice any potential protests. but the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you made your mind go blank, unable to do anything but moan his name every time he pulled you back against him. god, he loved hearing the way you whimpered for him, feeling you stretch around him when he fucked you just a bit too hard, the way your hips fit so nicely in his hands.

it was a good thing you were too fucked out to notice the little light next to his webcam aimed down at you. you wouldn’t mind if you did, he assumed — there was nothing wrong with wanting to remember this moment later, was there?

the boys next door — tobias & sebastian ;; double penetration, threesome

the pair had fantasized about losing their virginity to you years before it actually happened. the amount of times they’d gotten each other off with your name falling from their lips was too many to count, but god knows it just wasn’t enough for the two. but they never acted on those feelings, not until they had planned out the day to ensure it would be perfect.

you did find it a bit suspicious that the first time you were all free for the weekend at the same time was on the night that toby’s parents went out for an unplanned vacation, but you easily overlooked it when the pair offered you a sleepover (for old time’s sake!), bribed with promises of your favorite snacks and whatever movies you wanted to watch. you were sandwiched between the two in your best friend’s room, oh so aware of the growing tension but unsure where it was leading to — but then toby suddenly asked to kiss you. and what you assumed would be a playful peck ended with you pinned to the bed with tobias holding your wrists while sebastian made himself comfortable between your legs.

they really like you, and they know you like them too — you wanna be their first, don’t you? be their special someone? that’s what toby’s asking between kisses while seb’s lifting your shirt and sliding a hand down the front of your pants. it wasn’t until you finally gave them the permission they’d waited so long for that the pair allowed themself to really get the night started.

toby was the first to break you in while seb held you in his lap. it was a shame the pair didn’t think to record the moment… the face you made when toby fucked into you was so cute! and the noise you made when seb slid under you to try and squeeze into you alongside toby would play in their minds over and over again. they might’ve pushed you a bit too hard, stretching you well beyond your limit without even letting you catch your breath. they just couldn’t resist! you were clamping down on them, sucking them both in like you didn’t wanna let them go. it felt so good to make you cum.

the two were still up long after you had passed out, ogling your ruined state with an undeniable urge to fuck you up even more. they saw it like a badge of honor, proof that you’d always be theirs. the two would let you rest for the time being, but don’t worry — they still had an entire weekend with you ahead, and they didn’t plan on letting you step foot outside that house till their time was up.

the beast — mykolas ;; teratophilia (duh), size difference, outercourse/thighfucking

mykolas really, really didn’t want to hurt you. he was well aware of how big he was, especially compared to you — if you got hurt because he couldn’t control himself, he wouldn’t know what to do!

all of those thoughts were completely disregarded when he started rutting, though. the poor monster couldn’t think straight with his hormones running amok, and you being you — so soft, so small, so vulnerable, it was like you were designed to torture him through the season. you’d very quickly catch on to what was happening to your monstrous partner, considering you’d often be woken up by him grinding up against your back or stomach in a desperate bid to try and relieve the borderline painfully throbbing cock that was bothering him more and more these days. and though he’d never make his needs known vocally, you could just tell — that sad, pleading look he’d give you every time you looked at his pitiful form was just begging you to take care of him.

you knew for certain that you couldn’t just fuck him in his current state. his cock practically matched the length of your torso! and with how reckless his hormones were making him, the possibility of him ‘accidentally’ making you take more than you could handle was too high, even if you did try to take control. so to work around this problem, you opted to get a bit creative with your methods.

mykolas didn’t quite understand what was going on at first when you bent over in front of him, pants pulled down to your knees. but when you guided him between your legs and clamped your thighs around his length, you could tell the switch in his brain had flipped and he completely allowed instinct to take over. you had no clue just how good it’d feel when mykolas’s hard, wet cock rutted against you relentlessly until he was gripping your waist and pulling you against him, fucking your thighs like you were his living fleshlight. but fuck, the way he managed to slide against every sensitive spot he had access to despite his carnal state was nearly driving you insane. and mykolas delighted in the way you clawed at the ground and mewled for him, your voice so pretty when you stammered out his name. it didn’t take long for either of you to cum at that rate.

despite the mess mykolas made of your thighs and stomach, though, he wouldn’t let you get off him. he’d been pent up for so long, repressing his desire to mate with you, he couldn’t just stop there! so he went again, and again, humping you in any position he could think of, pinning you down, thoroughly wrecking you as best as he could. you were gonna be in for a rough mating season now that mykie knew how to relieve himself with you — but you didn’t mind, he assumed. you were the one that showed him how to feel better, after all.

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valen-nidk · 27 days

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Family dynamic. | Vox's sibling!Reader.

Content: Implicit imposter syndrome, subtle hints of depression. General description of S.Reader's relationship with The Vee's.

A/N: Probably the last thing you'll see of this particular reader unless I get requests for potential relationships with other Hazbin hotel characters.

Frankly, Hell wasn't exactly what you had in mind, if anything, this particular ring of Hell was like Earth with extra steps and fancier titles: people (read: sinners) still got killed, sometimes there was a transactional reason behind, sometimes just because ; consent was also a bit of a myth here too ; politics? Not exactly. Religion? Uh, duh — after all, the fancy titles previously mentioned were: Archangels, Seraphims, Angels, Sinners and Hellborns (was Adam his own category? His title was First Man and, according to some sources, he had self-proclaimed as Dickmaster or the original dick).

The only upside thus far was that your physical form was kind of cool (literally, a humanoid robot so... an android that had to regulate its body temperature to not overheat), no bones ached, no muscles hurt and you couldn't get sick (a virus, maybe...?) plus your cult leader brother was, to no one's surprise, a cult leader! With the power of hypnosis which, in retrospective, was kind of like his gig back on Earth with manipulation skills that had been perfectly crafted and mastered throughout years and years of studying the human psique and emotions.

The TV head was... new. Unexpected, certainly hilarious even if the context was gruesome to an extent. It made sense, same goes with you: the right-hand, the prophet of this newfound god. Although your form was different since you died electrocuted because of a faulty electrical connection.

Ah yes, what is there to do in Hell..? The Radio Demon had gone missing as well as Lilith, part of you heavily believes that those two separate events are, in fact, connected despite the lack of evidence. A hunch though without something to back it up, you kept quiet — after all, you weren't a big mastermind, though you did enjoy chaos and creating a ridiculous amount of back-up plans in case something went terribly wrong. Cautious? Anxious? Oh, yeah. Your stubborn egotistical brother was careless when going through his many power-trips or when his rage made his (seemingly) perfect persona crack, hence why you just had to have ways to ammend any and all mistakes. Problems made you uneasy, utterly sick — gotta fix 'em, gotta have potential solution for every possible scenario no matter how insane they could be. You never know! You have to know, a sense of being capable of choosing, to own something, just about any single aspect of your life just had to be yours to control.

Nonetheless... Hell, huh. What to do? Unlike Vox, your powers were quite limited and served as support for his, rinse and repeat a life on that one. Besides that, you weren't an official Vee member, more like an honorary one — and thanks to you being a charmer, a problem solver (people-pleaser) and overall someone who rather live comfortably, well... You started babysitting looking after Valentino whenever Vox was too busy (read: didn't want to put up with his bullshit) and this lead to uhhh, unwillingly being dragged to his studio. The porn actors loved you, which made Valentino hate you but also love you as well because "motherfuckers are more willing to cooperate when there's una cara bonita como la tuya around these parts" while squeezing your 'cheeks' (screen). Yeah, you didn't get why Vox wanted this mothman carnally, though his voice was podcast material, the accent? Delicious.

Now when it came to the backbone of The Vee's, it was a trickier situation — mostly due to not having an actual reason to interact with Velvette. Sure, you guys exchanged texts like roasting Vox and Valentino, gossip, some blackmail material... Memes, selfies, the very basic. Being physically in the same room was comfortable, pleasant silences while sitting next to each other and showing funny videos from your respective devices ; or sharing private conversations that were hilarious with or without context, that's for sure! Oh and, let's not forget that this fashionista icon and unforgiving social manager will absolutely roast you if you are dressed like last century. Still, she was kind to you and, in return, you behaved the same way — work collegues, or flatmates would be a way to describe how you two got along.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #�� he speaks #hazbin hotel imagine #vox x reader #valentino x reader #velvette x reader #vox x male reader #valentino x male reader #velvette x male reader #vox x gn reader #valentino x gn reader #velvette x gn reader

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gildedkrone · 6 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Gold is the colour of royalty. In filigrees embossed into vermillion cloaks, in the frames of paintings in royal courts with ceilings of skies adorned with angels and cherubs. Gold is the dust blowing through a cracked façade and a bleeding heart.

He doesn’t bleed red. He never does.

Shake off the dust gathered on the tarp over his heart and rein in his faith—he is a man facing a crisis of faith shaken and broken as with marks deep and scarring in the soft flesh of human emotion.

He has emotions, contrary to typical belief and what his coworkers think.

Erudition is a curse—the knowledge contained within only serves to break him further into pieces of unfulfilled longing and desire shimmering and shining under the rays of heaven.

He bleeds gold and he bleeds it all over your hands in streams of gold particles blowing off the charred remains of his supposed heart. A lie; it is one he tells himself all the time.

You can’t hurt what you don’t know.

Faith in crisis—man down in a pool of gold lust lapping at his ears and his nose as waves crest in periods synced with the surging of his heart strings tangled between your fingers in splinters of his shield.

He’s a compromised soldier of god when he first laid eyes on you. His oaths are nothing against what you bring with you when he experiences your touch initially. It blinds him with fervour and shakes the foundation of his understanding of the world.

He finds gold to be his new favourite colour as it’s associated with the lustre of your wings, the crown on your head and the tips of your fingers brushing over his when he’s injured on the battlefield. His comrades have abandoned him, warrior left to rot in ruin as they retreated from their unsuccessful assault.

Gold is his eyes with the reflection of your smile in a sardonic pose.

“Oh Ghost—have you fallen?”

He grits something in ashes of pride and shivers at your touch against a wound in his thigh. Gold filters through your fingers in something viscous and lazy and you swipe it on his garments to get rid of them. He feels small under your touch and he whispers a prayer.

A prayer to a god no longer willing to listen and on deaf ears are his final pleas. What fools to take him for nothing.

Defiance is salacious in eyes burning with hatred—but it’s so pretty set against his blonde lashes. The wind blows from the east and you lean into his space. A caress of his hands tenses his body before you tell him of your intentions.

“I think I will keep you, Ghost.”

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Gold is the colour of his pleasure when he gives in to his carnal desires. No man can truly hold out against temptation and with his mask removed, his pretty face is framed by skin resplendent and healthy.

A man in a crisis of faith always seeks redemption; to seek another higher purpose so you will have to step in and be his religion. It has taken months, gently nursing him back to health and breaking down the barriers of meaningless restraint inculcated by weak men with fragile egos.

“Need your consent before we do anything, Ghost.”

He nods even if his faith is tested. He can’t love another man; it’s against the beliefs his father and the military have knocked into him over and over again.

“But you no longer believe in that, do you?”

He moans.

“Take me to be your faith, Ghost.”

“Let your belief be moulded by me and let yourself be rewarded.”

He chokes and it’s a sound echoing around the chambers. He lays on duvets and a hand is busy between his thighs rippling up and down a shaft neglected by his duties as a soldier. Your fingertips leave trails of gold weaving down his body in intricate markings and patterns to help him find his new purpose.

“Look into my eyes and tell me to stop. I will.”

Crisis and ruin gag his tongue and he comes noisily and weakly into his hands with his second orgasm clawing it way out of his throat. The mighty Ghost, once feared by all laid naked before you in the throes of pleasure with an eager hand lost in earthly desires.

You seek to show him heavenly desires.

The cloth around you falls to the floor in a heap and he zeroes in on your pelvis. A gilded cock ring affixed at the base and rings pierced in your nipples. The mattress dips below your weight as you kneel between his thighs and encroach into his space.

A hand touches his thighs and the question hangs in the air. He debates and gives his consent. To be bathed in your fervour and magnificence and your ego is stroked by the simple gesture itself. Fingers gently swiped through a bowl of liquid before they prod gently at his entrance and they push through between a gasp and growl of pure surprise and instinct.

He is beautiful, laying there with a hand clasping onto your arm pressing into the bed for support. The mask never did suit him—it’s ugly and hides a face sculpted in the truest image of man. Chest heaving with the thrumming anticipation of his first time with you and the light around you is blinding in it’s intensity. With three fingers in him, you taste him on plush lips pushing into yours with eager and a moan slipping from his slipper grasp on his awakened desires.

Gold is the colour of his nails when his hand wraps around your shaft and you smile encouragingly as he felt up what is going to enter him. He tugs your length and you clamber forward and rests a hand against the back of his head.

Sacred, in every sense with your body shadowing his and cradling him in pleasure as the length gently pushes into him. The hand on his head allows you to see into his eyes dilating with pleasure and supposed sin he once believed in.

A man’s pleasure is another’s too.

He gives a gasp when it’s halfway in and you stop; any further will hurt him. He is tight and eyes shut in an attempt to regain some semblance of control over his body and desires as you tug and pull on them to keep him off balance. Eventually, you give a shallow pull and thrust as he keens. The sound is melodious—pure and unfiltered without the meaningless shackles once denying him of pleasure this euphoric.

“Tell me how you feel, Ghost.”

His words are disjointed and broken, like lines of gold spiralling into loose ends as you rock into him again with the burning fervour to show him what he has denied himself for so long. Rebuild his faith and bring him to ecstasy over and over again.

In the bedroom, he loses himself to the chants of your name with frantic pawing at your chest when he feels the burn blaze in his loins. The body with gold paint flexes and shakes with thrust and symbolically, it represents a man seeking truth and knowledge with trust and vulnerability.

Tears streak down his face and they aren’t gold. You don’t expect them to be—they are pure as his heart is light in the moment. They fall in beads of expungement of false teachings of fake prophets.

Shake his faith and be his keeper—chant the name. Chant the name until all is nothing but drudgery behind a brilliance of gold that is his climax when he topples over the crests of vermillion into your hands ready to catch him and make him whole. He runs a hand through your flank as you whisper his name.

Simon.

“mmfph! C-come … come in me, p-please!” His voice beckons and his dick leaves evidence of his desire in strings on his pelvis. The tip leaks with clear fluid and you swipe a taste of tangy and salty and the quivering of a virgin hole around your aching dick. With each thrust, his whines are words of a siren in an altar defiled by your presence if they were to be believed. His eyes beseech you to be merciful as he slings an arm over.

“Cl-close! P-please, just … let—let me cum!” His body, aflame with desire getting higher and higher swallows you greedily as you thrust harder into him to make his wish a reality. His cheeks are smattered with pink and desperate men make convincing pleas.

Gold is the future waiting for him with you in seas of calm waters and a sun warm as your body pressed against his and seeding him in spurts as he spews messily over his stomach. His tears are rivers of release; cathartic is what he experiences when he lets out everything he has suppressed for so long to allow himself to feel.

“Stay with me, Simon.”

He nods and looses himself in your lips and grunts when you pull out of him before rearranging his rogue limbs into an embrace of suns and stars—a man sated and fulfilled with his desires snoozed, for now. His tears wipe off with a hand.

Gold, truly, is a colour best reserved for him. For his splendour and brilliance of a man having found his faith with you descending upon him in radiance and glory. In a house without god, he finds what he has been looking for. Upturned tables and roots of culture in a space no longer empty with your presence as you cup his face gently to soothe.

After all, what would you be if you didn’t safeguard a being as divine as him?

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ghost fanfiction #call of duty

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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Chrollo Lucilfer Yandere Analysis.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW (both non-con and dub-con), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, forced tattooing, Chrollo having a god complex but that's nothing new lol, Stockholm Syndrome, stalking, parallels to religion (mainly Judeo-Christianity), implied body transformation (using Chrollo’s book), masturbation, manipulation, and violence/gore.

Word Count: 13k.

credits to @ddarker-dreams for the yandere MBTI and like everything she writes for this creepy greaseball (check her out if you haven’t already!!) <33333

another thanks to @depravitycentral for the inspiration! check them out too!!!! their general profile and nsfw profile for mr. chrollo specifically BUT everything they write is pretty good! <33333

one last thanks to @phasmophobia-territory for the ultimate yandere types list and @blughxreader for the yandere personality meme. both have inspired the unique qualities part of this analysis, so please be sure to check them out! <333

also, for quotes i tried to do something like genshin impact/honkai: star rail voicelines so i apologize if they aren’t good (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

*~*~*~*

I look forward to living life with you from here on out. However, just know that there will be many different roads we will walk together on. Their lengths will depend on you, for better or for worse. As time goes on, however, I know that they will all end eventually.

→ Introduction.

The very definition of an empty shell, Chrollo has had his humanity stripped of him from a very young age. The only people who have ever made him feel something are all members of the Troupe or are buried underground, burning in hell or soaring above the clouds as angels, either one a much better existence than the life they all spent in Meteor City. So, when he sees you, someone who has been able to make him feel something without interacting with him at all, without the use of Nen, without even brushing your shoulder against him while running to your train in a hurry, he does not know what to do.

He feels like he is back to being a small child, roaming the streets and looking through dumpsters for anything of value trying to ignore the pain of the cuts and infections all over his body. You bring up a feeling he has not felt in years; fear. Despite this situation being far, far different from those times, his brain thinks otherwise. It sends him a fight or flight response every time he sees you, as much as he hides it, much like he hides himself among the crowds and crowds of people as he follows you home. You have resurrected a beast thought to be long dead, something innate, animal, almost carnal, without even lifting a finger.

Is this who he is, he wonders? He finally feels something, for once, a sense of belonging and identity and… humanity.

It fills him with a sense of euphoria, while you view it with dread every time his Zetsu slips for just a moment. You always look over your shoulder during those times and start walking faster, but definitely not enough to deter him, and it will never be enough.

→ Darling Character Analysis.

Creative.

Chrollo has a deep curiosity about the world and appreciates a darling who shares this thirst for knowledge and intellectual growth. The form of expression doesn't matter to him, whether it's through writing, music, or eloquent speech. What truly matters to Chrollo is that his darling can communicate uniquely and authentically.

In a concerning manner, Chrollo imitates his darling’s behaviors to an extreme degree, devouring everything they do with an insatiable appetite. It doesn't matter how his darling presents their interests to him, whether it's straightforward or not. For instance, if his darling mentions their love for playing the violin after spending days alone with only Chrollo for company, the next day a brand new violin will mysteriously appear on the table beside their side of the bed. Chrollo will secretly learn to play the violin himself, the one he purchased as well as the one he gifted to his darling, practicing when they are not paying attention or are fast asleep.

As a result, his darling may find themselves obligated to reciprocate this behavior by learning Chrollo's favorite musical pieces.

He will experience immense joy, perhaps so much that he will hold them down on the bed and shower their face with kisses while they squirm and kick. Even when they eventually stop, he will continue, disregarding their pleas for him to stop.

As always, his strength is overpowering, leaving you with no action to do other than to say no.

At least there is some form of care after it is all over and done with, although it always somehow involves blending with whatever activity preceded it. For instance, if it was playing the violin, he would play you with both your favorite pieces on the gramophone he put near the bathtub while giving you a massage and preparing a relaxing bath for both of you.

It is painful, more so than the usual ache between your legs, because he pays attention to your desires and exploits them, even when he appears to be gentle. The pain lingers, no matter how hard you try to disconnect from everything happening around you.

He gives you everything you want, and it hurts because you always know why.

Bold.

A darling who never hides their intentions and just goes for it would spark some sort of admiration in Chrollo, especially if they use their boldness on him as a manipulation tactic.

He finds it entertaining most of all, but also there is a small part of him that is grateful for it because it makes his darling seem more human to him and not just something to own.

Boldness is quite a human trait, one that he so adores, especially with those he holds close like fellow members of the Troupe. It is also quite a trait that can easily be manipulated.

If you attempt to flirt to lower his guard, he will flirt back twice as hard.

When everything is over and done with, he will admit he knows exactly what you are doing as he kisses you again, you not kissing him back this time, as good as your acting was, much to your horror.

Resourceful.

Chrollo sees himself above the rest of man, a God in his way, so a darling who is quite similar to him he would adore.

That is not to say he could not fall for someone the complete opposite of him, someone who is impulsive and wears their heart on their sleeve and everything else he does not and cannot do, but the probability is low compared to a darling that plans everything and keeps their cards close, much as he does.

That makes escape attempts though, quite common, considering how resourceful his darling can be, like using a file to saw the metal in one of his safes or the iron on their leg keeping them in his penthouse. But he loves it, it is one of his favorite things about them.

It is endless entertainment to him, a sort of fight against himself, albeit he is much, much stronger when it comes to wits most likely. You can think on your feet as much as you want, but so will he.

He will mirror their actions until the end.

Independent.

Much like his beloved's cleverness, he derives amusement from their self-reliance. He takes pleasure in dismantling their barriers bit by bit until they have no choice but to rely on him completely.

Indeed, Chrollo views his beloved as simultaneously superior and inferior to him.

There is no equality between them, only a shifting power dynamic that his beloved will soon discover. They will never be certain if his actions, like retrieving their favorite snack from the top shelf of the pantry, are expressions of love or gestures of mockery.

At times, it may be both. At times, it may be neither.

His thoughts remain inscrutable, and he revels in it.

Cunning.

Chrollo loves it when your eyebrows furrow, when you’re deep in focus, especially when you are trying to come up with an escape plan and not noticing him right behind you, because of that expression on your face.

It’s unholy, the way he worships you with sacrifices both living and not. He wants to ruin you, yet keep you as you are. So, after a long time of pondering, he concludes. He will remake your shape, not enough to completely alter it, but just enough for your walls to tumble down and let him in. That is why while he will let you try and try again to escape, he will still attempt to get into your head. He is like a poison, a parasite, imprisoning you in your fears, insecurities, and plans that are doomed to fail sooner or later. It is what he wants to be, but he also wants to be more.

More and more he will be, and more and more he will take from you. It is only natural to want more than what is given, correct?

It is how Chrollo and the other Troupe members survived so long in Meteor City. They take and take, not caring who they hurt because it is human instinct to want and seize. He will argue as such whenever you try to guilt him because you will soon know that he holds no shame in whatever he does. He is selfish, and he wants to stay that way. He wants you to do the same, so he loves it when you fight him or try to run away because he knows it is only nature. Nature will run its course regardless of who wants it to not. Nature does not care, so why should he? Why should you?

But he also wants you to not be as selfish as him, despite him knowing that it most likely will not be unless you are broken down enough. But that is fine, Chrollo tells himself because that time will eventually arise.

Mature.

Maturity is an elusive quality that characterizes Chrollo, yet eludes him as well. It ebbs and flows like a breeze, carrying seeds to unknown destinations, beyond the perception of onlookers. Unfortunately, you, the observer, are an unwilling participant in the multitude of games he plays and the various disguises he dons. Occasionally, Chrollo can act impulsively, adopting yet another facade acquired from others in the interludes of his life. However, there are moments when he patiently waits for the opportune time to strike, akin to a cunning serpent. But this outcome relies on your level of vigilance or innocence. Perhaps, one day, you'll find it best to surrender to his will. Chrollo eagerly anticipates that day.

Hardworking.

Chrollo feels a mix of jealousy and a desire for control when he sees someone truly dedicated to their pursuits. He wants to replicate their passion and adopt a similar persona. At the same time, he is intrigued by their determination and ambition, as he wants to understand every aspect of their character. This admiration creates a thrilling challenge for him, as he seeks to imitate their drive while also appreciating it. He wants to both admire and exploit this trait to engage in a game of cat and mouse until they submit. Perhaps it would be good to do just that, to prevent yourself from getting hurt again.

Observant.

Chrollo finds great pleasure in the thrill of the hunt, especially when his keen-eyed darling begins to notice subtle indications of being watched. These signs, carefully planted by Chrollo himself, make his darling increasingly cautious. For Chrollo, taking risks brings great rewards. Although these signs are intentional, they still hold, don't they? A lingering footstep behind them. A faint smile on a stranger's face, an unfamiliar figure lurking in an alley near his companion's residence. These signals confirm that they are being stalked, and Chrollo is entertained by the fact that their sharp instincts assure them that this is no mere coincidence or misunderstanding.

Logical.

Chrollo's beloved should possess some semblance of logic, even if it deviates from conventional understanding. The key lies in their thought process, rather than adherence to reason. This cognitive approach, be it driven by emotions or rationality, captivates Chrollo. They meticulously evaluate facts, evidence, and outcomes, exercising caution in moments of perceived advantage, as well as during bouts of insecurity and danger, where they must think quickly on their feet. This mental calculus can either serve them well or inadvertently lead to their downfall. They carefully weigh the pros and cons, thus fueling Chrollo's insatiable desire for the fun of the chase, which hinges upon ultimately catching his beloved in the act.

A Leader.

If you hold a position of leadership, whether at work or among friends, this situation will be even more perplexing and distressing for you. In an instant, you were no longer in charge, forcibly removed from your familiar surroundings and confined. Your authority, influence, and status, which held great significance, have been stripped away. You may experience a profound sense of helplessness and powerlessness as if all your hard work has been unjustly taken from you. Chrollo, as your captor, will seek to exert even more control over you if you possess the characteristic of leadership. He finds it ironic that you are now compelled to follow him, forever robbed of the opportunity to lead while you remain in captivity.

Confident Outside, Insecure Inside.

Chrollo takes great pleasure in this particular attribute, as a mere few words, be they soothing or otherwise, have the power to manipulate you effortlessly.

You find yourself compelled to dance and sing, controlled by invisible strings or some intangible force, as there seems to be no other recourse in this predicament. After enduring prolonged isolation, you will unquestioningly revere Chrollo's words, no matter how distorted they may be, treating them as a testament to be praised. And Chrollo eagerly anticipates the arrival of that day.

It instills fear in you, as both of you are aware that such a day will inevitably arrive.

With a few choice words, Chrollo can elicit tears or smiles from you, a feat that few others have managed to accomplish.

You despise it, while Chrollo utterly loves it. Intelligent.

Intelligence encompasses a wide range of abilities, making it possible for Chrollo to be drawn to various types. However, what truly captivates him is a darling who possesses either linguistic or interpersonal intelligence, or even better, both. He desires someone who can effortlessly decipher people's intentions, using words that ignite a fire within him, even if those words are aimed at him or others.

The type or types of intelligence his darling possesses greatly influences their relationship. How he presents himself in public, whether as a kind gentleman or someone who keeps his distance, depends on their emotional intelligence and intuition. Additionally, Chrollo finds it incredibly appealing when his darling shares a specific interest that is completely new to him. This not only allows him to learn something new but also adds another mask to his ever-expanding collection.

Someone who is emotionally intelligent, like his beloved, would pose a challenge for him to manipulate. They possess the ability to understand him better than most, making it all the more satisfying for Chrollo when they succumb to his desires. After all, as Chrollo often says, the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

→ Yandere MBTI: CAMS. (Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict)

Chrollo possesses great skill in dismantling individuals but lacks the necessary expertise to reconstruct them according to his vision. Unfortunately, you have become an unwilling participant in his experiments. Share with him your deepest anguish and vulnerabilities. Chrollo also portrays himself as a universal remedy, claiming that he holds the power to alleviate all your suffering and resolve your troubles, provided you heed his advice.

However, he waits until he has captured you, and your defenses have crumbled. In that moment of vulnerability, when you are cut off from the world, consumed by sorrow, unable to eat or speak, he reveals himself as a deity. He extends his hand to you, leading you along a path he meticulously constructed. This path is filled with suffering, a never-ending cycle of waiting for both of you. But at the end of this dark tunnel lies Chrollo's ultimate desire: your affection.

What is your ultimate pain, what is your ultimate wish? I can provide anything and everything for you, beloved if you do not stray away from the light.

If you happen to encounter him in public before he abducts you, it is because he willingly allows you to do so, aiming to create a favorable impression that will prevent you from suspecting his true intentions. However, if you do find yourself growing suspicious, it is not without justification. Nevertheless, he will persist in attempting to dispel your doubts by showering you with more gifts and displaying gentlemanly behavior such as pulling out your chair and kissing your hand or inner wrist. Yet, everything appears excessively flawless, to the extent of inducing nausea. Everything is so… flawless all of the time, but only when you are around him and him alone. Ironically, despite Chrollo's desire to dissuade your wariness towards him, his tender and kind gestures only evoke fear.

Chrollo effortlessly switches between portraying himself as a divine figure and a malevolent force, adapting to the circumstances at hand. On one hand, he displays an uncanny perfection, never making a mistake and seemingly possessing an understanding of your thoughts and emotions even before you do. On the other hand, he reveals his true nature as pure evil by casually initiating a bet to see who can consume the most alcohol, leaving you as an unwilling participant in this game of his. As soon as you become intoxicated, he unveils himself as the embodiment of wickedness, groaning as your clothes rip off and you cry his mouth is on yours and he keeps murmuring things into your ear that are so much more terrifying than sweet and-

Panaceas are eternal, refusing to fade away, regardless of your preferences. And so is this situation with me, my dearest.

Chrollo often repeats the phrase that he would sacrifice his life for you. However, there is doubt as to whether he truly means it. His actions, whether they be subtle or overt, inflict daily harm upon you, both mentally and physically. He disguises his hurtful behavior as casual conversation, a serious one, and everything in between. Chrollo's self-centered nature raises the question of why he would make such a claim.

You remain unaware of his true intentions, as Chrollo holds the knowledge of what is genuine and what is fabricated close to his chest. He perpetuates this ambiguity, ensuring that you will never uncover the truth. Once again, Chrollo finds himself in a position of guilt, but the specific charges remain unknown. As an impartial judge, you can't discern between deceit and honesty when you have never been taught the difference. Chrollo, determined to maintain this state of uncertainty, ensures that the truth remains elusive, no matter what lengths he has to go to to make sure it stays that way.

Chrollo possesses the ability to assume various roles. He can portray himself as a reliable partner rather than a deceitful captor, a compassionate individual rather than a mass murderer, a savior rather than someone in need of rescue... The possibilities are endless. This charade is not merely a game to him, but a necessity to maintain his façade. Even if he desired to, he could never remove these disguises, as he is oblivious to his true identity, because who is he without his lies? Nothing? It is a sorrowful predicament for both me and him, you will think someday, one that may prompt you to ponder whether it is Stockholm Syndrome or your inherent empathy for others.

At some point, you will allow him to take what he desires, whether it be when he reaches a breaking point and loses control, or when you become desperate for any form of human interaction.

Whenever you are in need, call out my name. I will be there to provide whatever cure you desire for the ailment at hand.

→ Unique Qualities.

Yandere Type:

Possessive.

Chrollo in one word would be selfish, and he himself would not deny that it suits him quite well.

Whatever he touches turns to gold in the most metaphorical sense. Whenever he sees something he wants, he will take it. Everything Chrollo takes either has rhyme and reason to it or none at all. He turns them into gold as a sign of who owns them. Even if you have fallen or will eventually fall prey to this touch. The golden touch immobilizes you so you never ever leave him.

Like King Midas, he is selfish, and he takes pride in it. He is never humble in anything he does. That much is certain. He holds you in his arms at night like he knows your weight in gold, that he could never lose you as he lost himself all those years ago. His kisses are gentle when he wants them to be, or they can be as aggressive as he wants them to be. You’ll come to learn that it does not matter what you want, what matters is what Chrollo wants. Does not having a say in your hell hurt? Or does not having a choice help you justify to yourself that you must escape this?

Monitoring. (Watches From Afar / Direct Contact)

Really, it is Shalnark that does most of the work here, but it is still worth mentioning, especially since what Chrollo cannot get through traditional stalking alone, he asks a very teasing Shalnark to get for him. Though, if Shalnark fails, Feitan is put to the task, much to Feitan’s quite less than subtle annoyance, not that he would ever voice it. Through this trio, the work is separated into three strategies.

Chrollo’s way of finding information is as classic as it comes. Either he is observing you go about your usual day, to that coffee shop you visit before going to work, to the library you frequent on the weekends, to a park you like walking in to see the birds and to get a change of scenery while you read, or he is inside your home, looking through drawers, sampling some leftovers even from your fridge, and making a literal list of things to buy you either later or in the present moment and things to take with him when he inevitably steals you away. Shalnark’s way comes through the internet, through placing cameras in your home and showing Chrollo the footage day in and day out, and perhaps even making an online friend of you if you are that social with other people. To him, it’s all child’s play, especially with finding family members and friends of yours for later, to perhaps ask them questions under the guise of a fellow friend of yours even. But the information that neither Shalnark nor Chrollo can get from stalking alone relies on Feitan, which is where all the finding people you know and love trickle down and puddle at the bottom of this sort of vial of differing plans. This is a last resort, sort of, because there are better things that Feitan can be doing, really, but he is nothing less than loyal to Chrollo and the other Spiders, so he’ll find people who may know the answers his boss was looking for.

He does not blame Chrollo, because if the information was something even Shalnark could not find, it is something so secretive that it could metaphorically be so beneath the waves that it is on the bottom of the ocean floor.

Feitan takes on the role of the more experienced diver because he wants to make Chrollo happy.

Thankfully for most of those you know, only a maximum of perhaps five people are flicked off before you are brought to whatever penthouse Chrollo has bought for the next month or so. The rest can continue with their lives as it was, not that Feitan cares or Shalnark cares or Chrollo cares, except for poor, poor you.

Removing Nuisances. (Murder Likelihood: 8/10)

Similarly to gathering information about you, dealing with rivals follows a similar sort of hierarchy. Chrollo follows them, albeit with far less care and perhaps even stealing a few things along the way, if the rivals are rich enough, though that is quite rare to happen. Instead, he would try to threaten them through anonymous emails or letters, perhaps even with a photo of them sleeping thrown into the mix. But if that does not work, Shalnark is up next, digging up past searches and buyings that the rival perhaps regrets or wants to remain hidden. It could be anything, really, and soon this information will start to spread like a flame until the rival’s reputation is utterly ruined. If the rival is still stubborn about wanting to be romantically involved with you, Feitan is last, burying a corpse underground that looks far from the human it once was by the end of it all, and Feitan, unsurprisingly, likes this sort of business rather than simply lying in wait for a friend of yours to unfortunately cross his path.

Perhaps even Chrollo will join Feitan in this session or sessions. It sometimes happens, when Chrollo is too pent up or feeling especially angry, although he hides it well with a smile that is a bit too wide, at this rival in particular. By the end of it, when both he and Feitan look like they took a bath in blood with their clothes on, Chrollo laughs, and Feitan snickers. He feels good, both of them do. Maybe this is why Chrollo is so taken with you, Feitan wonders. The power and control that comes with you… it’s utterly addicting, isn’t it?

Adam and Eve. (Absolute Isolation) (Kidnapping Likelihood: 10/10)

Before he takes you away, Chrollo makes sure that whatever he cannot replace he takes with him. This includes memorabilia, photos, family heirlooms if you have any, and even annotated novels you have on your bookshelf with notes sticking out of them like sore thumbs. He manages to take it all away easily, just like he does with you. Chrollo, despite how selfish he is, still wants in some capacity to make you happy. In your “adapting stage”, you may be able to hide away from him in the bathroom and lock the door, but at least you will have the choice to continue whatever hobbies you had before that Chrollo allows you to do while you are self-isolating.

He sees this small reason for you not to hate him entirely as a win. A triumph followed by many others to come.

Collector’s Habit. (Comfortable Imprisonment / Chains + Cages)

Chrollo’s penthouse is lined with things both of significance to him and you. Almost all of it is stuff that he has stolen, however, not that he cares. The paintings lined up in the dining room, the many pretty dresses put in your closet and you are forced to wear, the jewelry that he clasps onto your neck and fingers and wrists like chains, all of them are stolen in some capacity or another.

The things that he had stolen from your home all look like they belong there, almost. Your favorite pink beret placed next to a porcelain plate of macaroons and fruit a note telling you to get ready for a date later in the evening, an old photo of you placed in a frame that ought to be at least three hours worth of your salary, your most cherished books all lined up next to Chrollo’s own, all the covers and sizes somewhat similar to one another that it almost drives you mad. It brings Chrollo comfort, while it brings you ire.

Possibly, you’ll read one of his Dostoevsky pieces when you think he is gone, or you’ll try on one of his many fur coats when it gets too chilly or when you are curious. But curiosity always finds a way to kill the cat, because when you think you are not going to be caught, Chrollo finds a way to sneak up behind you and simply observe, smirking, even when you see him.

Attention-Seeking.

Chrollo has always been one to utterly enjoy being in the limelight. He loves acting parts, playing parts as classy as a Prince Charming to a part as scheming as a villain that has locked the princess in a tower. You get both, the unlucky person you are. He gives you roses and proclaims poems and confessions of absolute love and undying loyalty, but you then remember that he is the one that trapped you here, to begin with.

This life that was forced upon you is a fairytale very close to cracking and falling apart, but never does.

You are forced to be a helpless maiden waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but unfortunately for you, that knight is also the very evildoer in this story. So, you try to be your own knight, your own prince, but it will never be as close or as real as an actual hero. So, your attempts fail, regardless of how long they were in the making. You are not strong enough, not fast enough, and you simply cannot write your own ending in this whimsical tale if Chrollo is always aware of them.

But you come up with a plan that takes weeks upon weeks and months upon months for it to bear fruit.

You'll comply with his desires and make your getaway when he least anticipates it. Thus, you're compelled to dance with Chrollo, flawlessly and without objection, to safeguard your plan. However, with each movement, it feels as though nails are penetrating your foot, for you're uncertain if Chrollo is aware of your actions, and it fills you with immense fear.

But it is too late to back out of this, so you keep on doing this waltz.

Eliminating Rivals.

The basement, as always, is filled with dust and dirt with insects both alive and dead scattered on the floor next to Feitan’s equipment. Chrollo does not mind it, though, despite him still wearing the suit he wore when he was following you to the train station, the route you usually took to get back from your best friend’s house to your place. He does not like her, but he decides to let her still do whatever with her life as she pleases, unlike the person currently zip-tied to one of the rusty chairs with broken legs. As long as she does not try to seek to be more than friends with you, she’ll be safe from harm. Even though Chrollo’s gut is telling him that she will try, that she will kiss you, say “I love you” to you and maybe go on top of you in bed and-

He tries not to think about it, he is already behind schedule enough as it is, though he could just make Feitan do the work by himself. He tries not to think about it because he has to start preparing his penthouse for your arrival soon to come. He has already purchased some new comforter sets for the bedroom, along with some of the skincare products he knows you use in the bathroom. He’s busy, too busy to involve himself with something other than torturing this man and getting back on track. He focuses on the scene ahead, trying not to think about that friend of yours or the barista who always looks at you for a tad bit too long. If he let his emotions and not logic control him, he would have murdered half this town already and left love notes on their headstones.

He looks at the man, covered in his own blood, his own vomit, his own feces from being confined there for days before Chrollo arrived, deathly thin from starvation and dehydration. From what Feitan told him, Feitan gouged out one eye one day and the other eye the next day, leaving him blind and weeping, his vocal cords far-reaching past their limit, crying out gibberish like some sort of animal, something not too conscious enough of its surroundings to be anything considered even near human.

“Fei, do you hear that?”

“...I do.”

Sexual Drive: 5/10.

Chrollo knows most of what there is to know about sex, but not for his own pleasure. He uses this knowledge mainly in intelligence gathering, when Shalnark, Feitan, and even Pakunoda are not able to get the information the Troupe needs for their next heist. He holds sex with little to no emotional value because of this, since his love for the other Troupe members is high above what little admiration he could possibly hold for those people that he subtly interrogates while fucking them as gently or as hard as they want him to, whispering in their ear when they are feeling their most euphoric, asking them what dons are trading with each other and with what, asking them how the president of this company makes so much when the value of their imports and exports don’t exactly match up, asking them how exactly many secret passageways this mansion has… it’s endless, really, how much information he can get out of them. The human body is so vulnerable, especially when pain mixes with pleasure or pleasure mixes with pain or pain is alone or please is alone. Chrollo is grateful for it.

But when it comes to sex with you, Chrollo then finally sees the emotional side of this spectrum. Your bodies bond and become one, melting into one another as you both moan out each other’s name, lovingly yours and lovingly his.

This development does not surprise him because he does want an emotional bond with you in some sense of the word, he wants you to worship him just as much as he does with you.

Let us go, shall we? Before you could answer, his hand grabs your wrist, his grip making it impossible for someone like you to break away. We… have plenty to talk about and do, correct?

Violence Towards Darling: 3/10.

Don’t take this as a sign that he will not use violence on you at all. Believing that Chrollo's violent tendencies towards you are limited to slapping or ignoring you is a naive assumption. You soon realize that attempting to strike him is futile due to his lightning-fast reflexes. Fighting back against Chrollo will not resolve anything. Instead, you come to understand that he wants you to be like a pet, constantly performing tricks and obediently following his commands.

You wonder if he would also display you like a trophy. Uncertain, you contemplate whether or not you want to find out. Eventually, a few nights later, you dream of a life without Chrollo's constant control, where he does not touch you possessively and parade you around expensive events. You recognize that you are nothing more than his lapdog, his pet, his trophy.

However, Chrollo claims to see something more in you. Is he being genuine in his belief? Do you really desire to uncover the truth?

Violence Towards Others: 8/10.

In his search for you, he maintains his usual calm demeanor, though his eyes reveal his inner turmoil. Anger fills his vision, overshadowing any light. Surely, you couldn't have gone too far. He frantically scans the penthouse until he finds you on the balcony... in the company of someone else.

“Feeling intrusive, are we?”

He pays no mind to the identity of this person, although it's likely they are a former lover or at the very least, a love interest. Your declarations of love and reciprocated kisses leave no room for doubt. How they managed to reach this height is irrelevant to him.

Without uttering a single word, he opens his book, channeling an unseen force from his hands to your ill-fated companion, causing them to plummet to the ground amidst screams from both of you.

After a few moments of tears, mumbled apologies, and the utterance of their name, he informs you that a serious discussion will take place later. With that, you silently follow him back inside. He will contact Shizuku to handle the cleanup of the body in due time.

Vanilla / Kinky

Favorite Kinks:

Begging.

Both inside and outside the bedroom, Chrollo likes having you beg, from you begging him to let you orgasm to you begging him to get you that new book in that series you were quite interested in before you got stolen away. It’s a power dynamic no doubt, it makes him feel wanted by you, needed by you, loved by you. That’s all he wants, really, your love and devotion and for you to promise to be his sun and moon and stars, for you to say he is bigger and more important to me than the sky, for you to hold him, for him to hold you.

No matter how much time passes, how many different places you both stay in and leave, how many countries you visit for leisure or for Chrollo's next big scheme, he refuses to break this unhealthy pattern, even for your sake. He enjoys this routine, so why would he alter it? He will occasionally tease you for being rather selfish, even as you both grow older and wiser and your hairs both white and your skin wrinkly. He will even say it to you when your corpse is resting peacefully in its coffin, as he sheds tears for the first time in many years.

Every time please, Chrollo, please, I… comes out of your mouth, it sounds like to him, the most beautiful martial vow.

He locks each and every one into the deepest crevices of his heart like unwilling prisoners, despite how small and cold and dead his said heart is, at least to you. They don’t want to stay, but they have to because I want them there in remembrance. Just like you. Poetic, is it not?

Voyeurism.

The screen in front of him showed you coming out of the shower, your body dripping with soapy water with a towel on your body that barely covered anything and a smaller towel covering your hair that was put up in a clip. Shalnark placing cameras all around your place made things much easier to know things about you that he could not find out through traditional stalking alone. He is grateful for him.

Slowly, as he smiled, one of his hands went into his pants, then his boxers as he caressed the half-hard thing beneath them both. He kept groaning as it got harder and harder, his breathing getting faster and faster. He is not sure how much time had gone by, but he knows that there was now liquid, slow and warm, running down his legs and is all over his hand, and as always, you were none the wiser.

Oral. (Receiving)

Your knees are on the floor, having been there so long it hurts. Your neck is curved backward and your mouth is in pain from his large manhood in there like an unwanted intruder, as you desperately gag and choke and cry. The only reason you have not successfully gotten away is because one of his hands is grabbing the back of your head and pulling you every time you pull, hopelessly still trying to fight.

Your hands are tied behind your back with silk to not damage the skin of your wrists, while you desperately try to claw your way out of them.

You’re in the clothing that he wants you to wear, as usual, though calling it clothing would be an overstatement as it hardly covers anything. A black thong with a short skirt, along with a low-cut bralette. As always, you have no say in the matter, and even though you are unable to utter a word, he showers you with affectionate words, as fake as they seem.

Favorite Parts:

Your Thighs.

It is more of a comfort thing than anything else, really. The way that it is one of the softest parts of you, one of the meatiest parts of you, and, most of all, the easiest parts of you to grab and hold and kiss and press hickeys into and fuck.

It’s only natural for a thief to want to keep their prized possessions close to them, is it not, my darling?

While Chrollo still places you all of his mementos and diamonds and paintings among the many, many other things he has hidden away in his current penthouse, seeing you as better than all of those things combined, he still sees you, in some ways, as something to be sanctioned, whether it be for your own safety or just his pure, unadulterated selfishness, or perhaps both.

So, he holds onto your thighs at all times pretty much, squeezing the flesh for either attention or just because he needs some security that you are still there with him, no matter how close you physically are to him.

He will occasionally rest his head on your lap, reciting his book aloud while you are obliged to listen. He never dozes off because he is too cautious for that, although he yearns for it. His desire to lie down and have you run your fingers through his hair as he gradually drifts to sleep almost surpasses all his other needs. It may sound like a fantasy for him, no pun intended.

However, it would be a nightmare for you, whether he falls asleep or not. But as always, Chrollo hardly cares. If you dare to object, your longer skirts, shorts, and one pair of sweatpants will vanish for approximately a month, only to be replaced by outrageously short clothes that barely qualify as attire.

They’re soft, just like your lips, your voice, just everything else about you, you, you. It’s the parts that most perfectly describe you, he’ll say, forcing you to tolerate all his touches because his hand is not going anywhere, just like the rest of me, sweetling.

Just stay still and let me see how plush you are just for me, alright?

If he ignores all the goosebumps and the shivers, he can assume that this is what heaven feels like. It must be, right, dearest?

Your Collarbone.

Despite everything else about him, Chrollo can be a sort of traditionalist when he wants to be. This applies quite rarely though, only really affecting the relationship he has with you, both inside and outside of the bedroom.

He likes how the bones stick out, the crevices just so perfect for him to slide the tip of his fingers across, just so perfect for him to kiss and bite, just so perfect to hang necklaces from so they are on a sort of diagonal and reflect the light, making them shine and making them highlight the hickeys that have been pressed into them, right below them, and right above them…

He forces you to wear all kinds of accessories and low-cut shirts that he can find, not caring how much money it would cost, just to see some diamond-encrusted choker on your neck. He says in the calmest voice he can muster that it is no big deal, darling, just trust me and I got this for you and you alone, now why don’t you be a sweetheart and put it on? You might think that a choker and a collar are essentially the same, as they both tightly grip the neck like a suffocating hold. However, Chrollo pays no mind to this, as owners don't concern themselves with their pets realizing they're wearing such a sign of possession.

Your Feet.

Chrollo appreciates art in his own unique way, specifically when it comes to sculpting and realism. He finds your feet to be truly exquisite, along with the rest of you. Despite your attempts to ignore it or cover them up, he has a clear fondness for your feet. Your toes are round, your heels are perfectly shaped, and your soles fit perfectly in his hands when he places heeled shoes on them. In secret, he also enjoys the scent of your feet, although he would never admit it. He would rather die than confess.

Your feet are cute and can become sweaty and sticky, making them easy to hold onto, just like your thighs.

Those traits really remind him after you orgasm, with you of course begging repeatedly for it a few moments before he lets you.

It's a hidden pleasure for him, even if you were to discover it, he would keep it to himself. You won't be able to get any information from him. If you do happen to find out, don't be surprised when a substantial portion of your jewelry drawer is filled with anklets.

His Fingers.

Chrollo admires his hands more than most other parts of his body. He trims his fingernails every two weeks, putting hand cream every time he steps out of the bath, never skipping this routine of his. The reason he admires his hands so much is that despite all the bloodshed and other dirty acts he does with them, they remain on the outside clean. It boosts his ego, in a way.

There are just so many uses for them, he loves flipping the pages of his favorite novels with them, he loves cutting food for both you and himself with them, he loves squeezing your thigh as either a warning or a sign of love… there are just endless possibilities, at least from his perspective.

But his new favorite thing is to fuck your clit with them, and yours alone.

Is it a privilege, then, that only yours can bring him such joy? Whether you believe it to be so or not, it holds no significance, for Chrollo finds pleasure in this, and only his satisfaction matters, given that he is the one who has taken you captive.

Please, Chrollo, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I can’t take this anymore I-

His movements are flawlessly executed, almost unfairly so. They are deliberate yet unhurried, demanding your submission. However, he will only grant you this pleasure if you plead for it. The act of begging will consume several minutes, perhaps even a minimum of two, leaving you in a state of desperation. Meanwhile, he will revel in your discomfort, relishing the power he holds over you. This perverse satisfaction is what he adores the most.

As you wish.

Inevitably, you will find yourself succumbing to your desires, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he provides. Despite your stubbornness, your willpower will eventually crumble under the weight of his expertise.

He derives immense pleasure from knowing that he alone possesses the ability to bring you such ecstasy. This knowledge fuels his ego, heightening his sense of self-importance.

His Words.

Chrollo has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but he also derives great pleasure from imparting knowledge and amusingly embarrassing others. And when it comes to you, he takes it to another level.

He constantly showers you with compliments, comparing you to famous heroines like Juliet and Ophelia from classic literature. He insists that you possess the same beauty as any damsel in distress from those timeless tales. To prove his point, he even offers to acquire paintings of these fictional princesses and damsels for you to admire and compare yourself to.

Wanting a break from his constant attention, you agree to his proposal. Besides, you get the bonus of owning some exquisite artwork. What could go wrong, right?

Well, it turns out to be a colossal mistake.

Upon waking up, you find yourself surrounded by what feels like an entire museum filled with paintings of fictional damsels, duchesses, princesses, and queens. The overwhelming presence of these artworks threatens to suffocate you. And to make matters worse, Chrollo insists on meticulously going through each painting one by one, forcing you to endure this ordeal that could very well last for days.

Your legs resemble hers, your lips resemble hers, your feet resemble hers... every aspect of your physique and the muse's physique that he remarks upon, leaves you feeling incredibly exposed, more so than ever before.

The duration of this process is absolutely exasperating. It leaves you feeling as defenseless as a lamb anticipating its fate in the hands of a butcher.

His Knowledge.

Chrollo truly treasures his knowledge, viewing it as divine nectar from the heavens, if indeed it exists. This belief is so strong that he occasionally overestimates it, taking every opportunity to display it in a way that impresses you more than anything else he does, both inside and outside of the bedroom. Whether intentionally or not, he will state the obvious, like pointing out that the creature you're observing in the rose garden during your “date” is not a slug, but a snail.

It frustrates you, but you acknowledge that it could be worse–he could forbid you from venturing outdoors altogether.

Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it?

…Doesn’t it?

Fantasies. (Consent / Non-Con) (Coercion / Brute Force)

If one were to make a comparison, they would compare you to a piece of art so beautiful, that it is instinct to witness, praise, and worship until their bodies all turn to mere dust, in which they will be swept away by those alive who do not want your refinement to be stained by those who have passed on. For what is a beauty without a beholder? Chrollo will gladly take up that role, as he is the only one worthy of seeing such a piece. You, leaning on the pillows, legs crossed, hair put up in a neat bun, wearing makeup that he has said he likes on you before, looking up at him like he has come to bless you with a mere glimpse of the divine power he holds, wearing the black lingerie he chose for you to wear this evening, made of lace with patterns of roses scattered about.

This is his welcome home gift, from both himself and you. He may have requested that you could partake in this, but since you are doing it without any complaint but instead loving doing the task at hand, he could consider him soon becoming one with your body for the evening to be an award from you for all the work he has done for the Troupe these past few days.

If such a prize is laid before him, ripe for the taking, why wouldn’t he? So, without so much as uttering another word, he starts to undress as you watch, a mix of genuine joy and interest laid out on your face. He hasn’t even touched you yet, and with this simple act, you are bound to him with the invisible thread of lust.

When his boxers are all the way down, he approaches, and you don’t blink, wanting to take it all in. Shall the fun start? When your lips meet, all reservations that you once had dissolve, as few as they are now.

(But don’t think Chrollo respects your boundaries completely when it comes to sex; if you deny him enough, over the course of months and months, he will break his composure and show you where you belong; underneath him.)

→ Strengths.

Realities. (Your Own, His Avow) (Patient / Impatient)

The being that is above you in this bed is unlike any human you have ever met before. His looks and personality are all artificially crafted, like some automaton made to resemble actual living things, but do not stray far from their roots, what they were made for, and what they were made of. I’m real, you think, I’m real. Chrollo is not.

He’s aware of everything you do. Every step you take. Every word you say.

He is aware. He possesses knowledge of all things, much like the god he feigns to be. His understanding of emotions is as keen as his logical reasoning, resulting in a situation of dread that pertains solely to you.

It instills fear within you because he holds the key to all knowledge, while you remain in not-so-blissful ignorance.

→ Weaknesses.

Lotus Eater. (Dreamy Idleness)

Chrollo, despite his attempts to appear superior to others, is not without his flaws. If those around him stroke his ego, he becomes overly confident. Yet, if one were to try the opposite approach, it would have the same effect as boosting his ego. He is cursed with arrogance, always believing he is superior to others, even some members of the Troupe. Perhaps you can use this knowledge to your advantage. Faking affection could lower his guard and further inflate his narcissism. It is a strategic move, preferable to engaging in a physical fight that you cannot possibly win.

Therefore, when you believe you have the opportunity to escape when his guard seems lowered enough that he won't immediately pursue you, you run. At that moment, his facade will crack, his eyes will grow emptier, and the hollow husk chasing after you will not resemble the Chrollo you once knew.

→ Daily Life.

Welcome. (Day One)

Chrollo remains a mystery begging to be left unsolved.

He rises at his usual hour each morning, and it's a rarity to witness him actually sleeping. His breakfast consistently consists of sausage and eggs, seasoned solely with salt and pepper, as he avoids other spices. He purchases fresh bread from whichever local bakery happens to be closest for the week or a few days ahead. Occasionally, if you're fortunate, he may bring back something sweet while out and about, such as a chocolate-filled croissant or a cherry jam-filled danish. However, trust, whether in platonic or romantic relationships, is something that must be earned.

Interestingly, it appears that regardless of the circumstances, Chrollo seems to possess a certain level of trust that you won't make any foolish choices. On your initial day in this penthouse, he simply greeted you, patiently waiting until the effects of the drugs wore off, allowing you to cry on the bed until your tears ran dry. He comforted you, softly shushing you and gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

Yet, he never becomes too intimate.

Was that his motive? Is that why he opted to masquerade as a compassionate gentleman rather than a captor? Instead of asserting his authority, he chose to console you, demonstrating that such solace could be snatched away in an instant. You were oblivious to his true intentions. On that initial day, you wept more than any other day, the taste of mint on Chrollo's breath and the aroma of coffee still etched in your memory. He would inflict further harm, and for the sake of your sanity, you believe it is preferable for him to remain an enigma, shielding you from the repulsive monster lurking beneath his attractive facade.

What Could Be. (And What Is)

Strangely enough, there are still parts of your life after Chrollo has captured you that would still sort of count as normal enough that you could turn the other way and ignore all other cosmic horrors that are happening in the general vicinity. You could still decide what you want to eat and drink that day, what to watch, what to read, what time to wake up and what time to go to bed, what to write in your diary (that not-so-strangely has its lock missing now), listen to the morning birds or to the music that Chrollo allows you to listen to (which is most of it, shockingly)... the list really is endless, really, aside from a few things that you forget sometimes, much to future you’s horror.

But sometimes you forget on purpose, to divulge in the fantasy Chrollo has carefully crafted for both of you, either to fool him or your walls really are as broken down as he wants them to be.

He finds it nice when you ask him questions about whatever place he has rented for the two of you for the time being, the location at hand most likely being related to the Troupe’s plans to steal whatever is of value. He likes to show off, and to listen to him talk for hours requires the patience of a saint.

→ Punishments. (No Punishments / Tortuous Punishments)

Welcome Again. (Failed Departure)

The penthouse looked to be the same after you ran out the entrance door that you lockpicked. The fireplace was still lit. There was still a smell of peppermint in the air along with some scent of coffee, lattes maybe. Everything looks the same, just as it always has. It nearly scares you more, how calm and warm this place is, than the hand that has a grip on your wrist so tight that you feel like he will dislocate it in the very least.

But he does not look angry, but that smile is not good at all either.

He does not say anything as he closes the door behind him, turning the lock on the door so it will remain that way. He does not say anything as he continues to drag you, albeit a bit more tight in his grip now that you are within his grasp once again. Whatever you say goes in one ear and out the other, and you know better than to struggle and scream, because you do not want this day to result in yet another bloodbath, and it would be useless anyway, even if someone came to rescue you. That is why, like the sort of pet you were trained to be, you bite your tongue and obey. He seems to not be angry now, but who knows what awaits you once you are in the bedroom, where most talks and actions are the consequences of your supposed crimes. You can’t really breathe, but that is alright. Chrollo will help you every step of the way after all, as the dutiful owner he has come to be.

Perhaps a pet is all you will be.

He wants you to look up at him like some god, some deity that you worship with all your being. But you can’t, not yet, and Chrollo knows that. Perhaps some methods unknown to you but known to him can help, can’t it?

He hopes so for your sake, but what do you hope for, wish for? You don’t know, and maybe never will.

Venus Fly Trap. (Temptations of a Liar)

Chrollo is well aware of the diverse array of predatory flowers, each manifesting in its own unique way. Perhaps you too possess such characteristics, with your alluring fragrance and honeyed speech, deceiving him into a false sense of security before stripping it all away. However, there is one crucial detail you seem to have overlooked. What transpires when a venus fly trap ensnares a prey that surpasses its own size and devours its own kind and others, rather than the typical fly it ensnares?

Undoubtedly, they suffer. Yet it appears that this lesson has eluded you thus far, hasn't it?

You have displayed kindness, sweetness, and a willingness to comply, within certain limits. Undoubtedly, you possess some degree of skill, though not enough to deceive him, the enigmatic masked orchestrator of this theatrical production.

Therefore, it is without much remorse that he renders you motionless with delicate silk and persuasive words that possess the potential to sting, should you ever dare to push him too far.

However, deep down you are aware of the truth, just as he is aware too. If he doesn't take a firm stance, what other undesirable situations will you find yourself in? With a single hand, he flips open the book, while using the other to shush you.

“A shame,” He says, turning the pages. “A crying shame, really. The sky is so lovely tonight… Who knows when we will get this scenery again, hmm?”

You don’t know what he will do to you.

…Does he?

→ Quotes.

Hello.

Greetings. It is truly an honor to meet you face to face like this at long last, [First]. There is no need to introduce yourself to me as I already know who you are. That, and… hmm. That, and I think you are not all there right now. Please, I recommend relaxing and listening to what I have to say. But just to make sure, try to speak to me… as expected.

Chat: Ballet.

All dancers must put themselves fully into whatever moves they do. I suppose that can be the same thing for you and me.

Chat: Athenaeum.

Libraries and archives are some of the places I enjoy going to the most. Maybe if you continue behaving, I’ll take you to one nearby.

Chat: Reimbursement.

Quid pro quo, darling; I assume you know the best ways to compensate me for the broken locks?

When It Rains.

The rain is perfect for a day of staying inside. Though, hehe… you’ll be indoors no matter what, right? Good thing you have me as company today. …What do you mean? I leave sometimes, mainly to get you things might I add. I suggest being more grateful if you don’t want that koala plush to disappear.

After It Rains.

Sigh… the smell of morning dew and the sounds of birds chirping… simply marvelous. Let’s go dance on the balcony, but be sure not to get your new shoes wet and slip. I would hate to have to bring Machi again.

When Thunder Strikes.

Aw, are you going to cling to me so cutely whenever there is a storm? I wouldn’t mind that, I’ll even give you more blankets to hide in if you wish. …Wait, dearest, come back… sigh… of course she hid under the bed again.

When It Snows.

So cold out there, isn’t it? If you ask nicely, I’ll give you back your socks and slippers. Go on.

When the Sun Is Out.

Let’s go on a walk tonight when it’s not so hot out. The sunset’s beauty will only be second to your own.

Good Morning.

Good morning, love, I made coffee. Feel free to use one of the creamers I got you, and there is oat milk near them somewhere in the fridge… Hm? I have never really been a fan of sweet drinks, so black coffee tastes good to someone like me.

Good Afternoon.

Sure, you can cook lunch. But allow me to cut the ingredients and heat sources. We know how you used them last time.

Good Evening.

It’s so quiet you can only hear the crickets chirping. It’s quite a romantic atmosphere, isn't it?

Good Night.

Ah ah ah. No bed for you yet. Give me a goodnight kiss first. No, you can’t sleep on the couch either. Or the floor. If you keep refusing, I’m going to ask you more questions than yesterday. …That’s better.

About Chrollo: Tattoos.

There is something comforting about them, I think. No matter what the person does to reject it, it will stay. The permanence of such an act should also be what you should be. Now, bite me again and you will sooner than later find yourself in a tattoo parlor. Am I understood?

About Chrollo: Lies.

Don’t say that, my love. I’m not lying to you, I’m just picking what parts of the truth to show and hide. There is no harm in that, I think.

About Us: Home.

This place is much more human with you in it. Do with that as you wish.

About Us: Cull.

Life and death have a sort of agreement. A contract if you will. The more lives taken by your hands, the more your own life is put at risk. Quite poetic. Like everything else in life, there must be balance.

About Us: Matrimony.

Being bound by just a few words… The very idea is beautiful in my opinion. If you want, we can get married. It is not like anyone else is going to put that pretty ring finger of yours to good use, anyway.

About Us: Panoply.

Anything you want you shall receive. Just say the word. Unless it is already here, which is a possibility.

About You: Humanity.

The human psyche is truly fascinating, don’t you agree? All it takes is a few words or a few actions and it all comes crumbling down. Like you.

About You: Epiphany.

Not a man, not ten men, not a hundred men can ever provide me with the same joy you give me. You’re special, you know? You make me feel… alive.

Something to Share.

“Be glad as children, as birds in the sky.” A quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky. But… birds are constantly migrating to better places, so really, are they grateful and glad for the gift of life?

Interesting Things.

I see you are doing experiments with pH again. Just be sure to not use all of the vinegar, please. And no, vinegar cannot melt a door, for the final time.

About Nobunaga.

He thinks more with his heart than his head. But he means well for the Troupe. Or himself when he makes someone call to order takeout for him.

About Feitan.

I learned a lot of torture methods from him. He truly is the best at what he does. As for social skills… not so much. But everyone has their ups and downs, and that is Fei’s.

About Machi.

One of the most loyal people I have ever met. Also one of the most in tune with their wants and needs. If she thinks of something to say, she’ll say it without a doubt. She is very transparent when it comes to that kind of thing.

About Hisoka.

Hisoka… he is very… out there, isn’t he? But he is valuable to me, so I give him free rein to do whatever he wishes.

About Phinks.

One of the physically strongest. Though also one of the only ones to ever get a laugh out of me. Shizuku once asked him why he did not have any eyebrows, and the way he stopped talking and stared at the ceiling caused us all to snicker. Feitan did earn a blow to the head by the end of it because Phinks does not hit women… He is much more gentlemanly than he appears.

About Shalnark.

When it comes to computers and such, Shalnark is the person to do it. He was the one to convince me to get a newer phone model and taught me how it worked. He kept chuckling as he did, and every question I had asked earned a wide smile in response but no actual answer. He says I am an… “old man at heart…?”

About Franklin.

He is not the most talkative one out there, but if ever comes to games to decide matters, he is the one for the job. Once, Uvogin betted fifty thousand Jenny if he ever beat me in chess. Franklin managed to almost win in the end, but he gave up at the last moment. He said he couldn’t bear to do that to me.

About Shizuku.

At long last, she at least remembers my name. She is quite charming in her own way… I see why Franklin took on a sort of caretaker role for her.

About Pakunoda.

Paku… Paku is one of the sweetest people I know. Whenever I didn’t feel well, she was the first one to come and help me feel better. She even fed me her rations, regardless of the tough times we were put through. I should ask her to make me soup again, I have missed the taste of it…

About Bonolenov.

When he trusts you enough, he has quite a humorous and proud side. He is very proud of his culture, and as someone who did not have one as a child, I find it very admirable.

About Uvogin.

I swear he could drink enough beer to kill a whale and still not be satisfied. The same goes for fights. Any challenge goes, whether that is an eating or video game contest.

About Kortopi.

His copying ability is quite useful, and Nobunaga wanted to give him a haircut using his sword. He declined of course, much to Nobunaga’s disappointment. …Hm? A copy of you? No, you are priceless, and nothing can ever compare, even a version of you that does everything I ask. There is a charm to your disobedience. That, and Kortopi cannot make living copies.

More About Chrollo: I.

Come. I got you some books for us to read together. But before you touch them, I must tell you that you can only read them while on my lap. Isn’t that such a great deal, dearest?

More About Chrollo: II.

“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven…” Yes, I can see the parallels between this line and myself. Is that why you decided to show me this? …Oh, you just wanted an excuse to call me Lucifer again. Do what you wish, I suppose. But please put that book back on the shelf where it came from when you are done. You know I hate it when you mess up the categories. …Hm? Don’t do that, or I won’t get you any more mochi. …You know my threats aren’t empty, my dear.

More About Chrollo: III.

…Do you need something from me, dearest? No? …Why am I asking? So you just happen to be pressing your chest against my arm for no apparent reason? …I see. Well, if you want my attention so badly, who am I to refuse?

More About Chrollo: IV.

Yes, that note is from me. That gift is also from me. Open it, please. …You should try wearing that set next time. Your thighs will stand out better. You were the one that was asking last night, not me. Ah, you are feeling rather adventurous these past few weeks, aren’t you? …Looking for something? Is this it? You know, I’m disappointed in you, to put it frankly. I thought you were coming around. You know what happens now, don’t you?

More About Chrollo: V.

Time has certainly sped by, hasn’t it? Let me give you a word of advice. No matter what happens, always remember those who have gotten you to where you are now. As a result, your situation can prove to be much less isolating that way. …Yes, that includes me. For when you are alone, my dear, your mind always finds a way to eat you whole.

Chrollo’s Hobbies.

Leading an orchestra and executing a grand theft operation share fundamental principles. It is imperative to maintain a commanding presence, ensuring that others adhere to your lead. Collaboration becomes the pivotal factor in achieving triumph during such endeavors.

Chrollo’s Troubles.

I find it perplexing how some individuals effortlessly navigate life with a serene demeanor, rooted in their unwavering sense of self. Maybe it stems from a twinge of envy, or perhaps there's another elusive element at play. But being envious is part of being human, is it not?

Favorite Food: Black Squid Ink Carbonara.

It is briny, and salty, like the sea. Quite refreshing as well, especially paired with homemade pasta. Only the best quality is allowed. …I am not being too picky. Do you know how many children in Meteor City have grown up never eating from a fast food place, much less a local restaurant? I simply am greedy because I can now. I couldn’t before, and that is why I do so as an adult.

Favorite Food: Opulence.

As an adult, my current ability to indulge in greed is a newfound privilege that I couldn't have experienced previously. Hence, I find it impossible to resist the temptation of adding an extra serving of truffle or caviar to my plate.

Least Favorite Food: Canned Cabbage.

One of the very few foods I refused to eat unless absolutely necessary was canned cabbage. It was slimy and always came in watery vinegar with mostly moldy parts… I was desperate, but not desperate enough to eat that. Machi, Nobunaga, and Phinks all agreed. Feitan didn’t, much to everyone’s annoyance.

Least Favorite Food: Waste.

Paku, Machi, and Feitan had a sort of pact that they forced on the rest of us to never throw away things that were still edible. According to Shalnark and Uvogin, moldy food is still edible. Phinks and I disagreed but… we got outvoted.

Receiving a Gift: I.

Indulging in scrumptious meals truly possesses the power to alleviate all worries. So, how can I express my gratitude?

Receiving a Gift: II.

Oh? Thank you, dearest. …For your own good, you better not have put salt instead of sugar this time.

Receiving a Gift: III.

Ah... considering you seem to have a moment to spare, would you be interested in sitting down and enjoying a shared reading session? The choice of material is entirely up to you, of course.

Chrollo’s Birthday.

You are such a prize, you know? You’re in an outfit worth its weight in gold, actually, now that I think about it, diamonds. Autumn has set in, the weather gets colder, and the food gets warmer. Perfect time for spending quality time with someone, wouldn’t you say so? Please, allow me to do this with you, [First]. I have never really cared for this day if I am being honest, but… now that you are here, I feel like new opportunities are around every corner.

Birthday.

Happy birthday, [First]. Within reason, I would like to treat you to whatever your heart desires. Food, art, wine; anything, just tell me, alright? I will see to it. …Heh. I’m afraid a fall from this penthouse will not be enough to kill me. …No, I am not going to put it to the test, since I am certain about it. Please think of something else. The world is your oyster, dearest. But… remember that I can always close it before you can get to the pearl.

Feelings About You: Ethereal.

This feeling… I haven’t felt something like this since… Hmm? Am I? Quite the observation.

Feelings About You: Euphonious.

…I miss your voice, you know. I always like it when you get caught up in a topic that interests you, no matter what it is. …But last time I took the gag off and took you out, you behaved quite terribly… Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take the gag off, and I’ll get you something related to your interests, and then we can talk about it. Does that sound good to you?

Feelings About You: Eternity.

We shall be together forever, bonded at the hip if we must be. I promise you. Do not worry about the details. It does not matter if you like it or not, because I will take care of whatever obstacles get in our way. Whether that obstacle is you or any… outsiders.

Feelings About You: Elision.

Do know that I do mean it when I say that I do want to make you happy. Yes, our relationship is less than ideal, but in the end, just know my feelings for you are indeed sincere. …I’m not exactly willing to take criticism, but I could try, perhaps. If you like to do so, I am willing to compromise, though.

→ Conclusion.

You never hear Chrollo in his movements, but you do in his actions when he wants you to.

He puts far more effort into the little things, the details than outright saying his feelings for you, or just telling you his threats. That mysterious gift that appeared on your bed while you were away at work, that just so happens to contain some of your favorite sweets?

The bouquet on your kitchen table that was placed while you were asleep? The box of dozens if not at least a hundred pictures of you by your mailbox when you tried to file a police report?

Chrollo is patient to a fault. You will never know what is happening, at its fullest, until it is far too late.

You can put as much blame on yourself as you want, and hate yourself as much as you want, for not realizing how dangerous this entire situation is. But this position under Chrollo’s thumb is so much more horrifying than you could ever imagine, so do not blame yourself for not noticing everything at once.

That is not to say Chrollo won’t try to degrade you into thinking this is all your fault.

Your walls will be as good as broken and crumbled down sooner than you think.

#aya analyses #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh smut #hunter x hunter x reader

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rivoluzionaria · 1 year

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Jorge Luis Borges sosteneva che gli antichi greci furono i primi a pensare, ci hanno dato la poesia, la scienza, la filosofia razionale, che tutta la cultura a noi pervenuta nel corso dei secoli derivi dai greci.

I filosofi greci distinguevano l’amore in 12 tipologie diverse a seconda delle diverse emozioni umane e sfumature del sentimento:

Agape (αγάπη)

Agape è l’amore incondizionato, anche non ricambiato. Va al di là delle forze umane, è un amore puro e senza alcuna aspettativa. Viene utilizzato nei vangeli e nella religione.

Eros (έρως)

Eros è la tipologia di amore più conosciuta. Dio greco della fertilità, il suo tipo di amore rappresenta quello passionale, il desiderio carnale. Veniva definito in termini di irrazionalità, perché il desiderio ardente avrebbe potuto portare alla follia.

Philia (φιλία)

Philia indica un tipo di amicizia profonda. Amicizia come vincolo di fiducia e lealtà, come fondamenta di un rapporto solido e suggellato dalla bellezza della condivisione. Amare ed essere amati.

Storge (στοργή)

Storge è l’amore nei confronti della famiglia o dei parenti, tipico dei consanguinei, deriva da “stergo” che significa amare teneramente.

Philautia (φιλαυτία)

Philautia è l’amore per sé stessi, l’amor proprio, fonte di perfezionamento e benevolenza è definito come forma di egoismo positivo.

Mania (μανία)

Mania associato all’amore è il desiderio incondizionato di amare e possedere, l’amore tossico che vive (apparentemente) solo attraverso il possesso di ciò che brama, il partner come oggetto del desiderio. Distruttivo.

Charis (χάρις)

Charis è forse la tipologia d’amore più ambita tanto quanto appagante: idilliaco. Entrambi i partner si amano allo stesso modo, sia fisicamente che spiritualmente.

Himeros (ἵμερος)

Himeros è l’amore che arde di desiderio fisico, impulsivo, irrefrenabile, l’amore folle. Desiderio carnale, non ascolta ragioni e va appagato nell’immediato.

Anteros (αντέρως)

Anteros, fratello di Eros (si narra fossero inseparabili) è l’amore corrisposto con il rispettivo coniuge/compagno e indica la stabilità sentimentale.

Pragma (πρᾶγμα)

Pragma è associato all’amore maturo di lunga data, ma anche al compromesso e alla pazienza. Fare uno sforzo per dare amore piuttosto che solo per riceverlo.

Pothos (Πόθος)

Pothos è la personificazione del rimpianto e del senso di nostalgia che si prova quando una persona amata è lontana. È anche identificato con l’amore adolescenziale, l’infatuazione, il desiderio prima dell’incontro.

Thelema (θέλημα)

Thelema è l’amore nei confronti di ciò che si fa, il proprio lavoro, il piacere di fare qualcosa, il desiderio voler fare e non è rivolto quindi ad una persona.

— manuela g.

#frasi #citazioni #amore #libro #love #frasi citazione #frasi libro #antica grecia #manuela g.#manuelag.#mare #letteratura #citazioni libro #classic lit art #arte

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feralplantwife · 7 months

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Erzsebet Bathory- Thematic Character Analysis

I've seen a lot of posts about Erzsebet Bathory, and the general sense is that while her design is cool, she's not very well-developed or impressive from a character standpoint. I agree... Somewhat.

I'm going to get into it below, but the TL;DR version is that from a characterization standpoint, she is weak, but from a thematic standpoint, she is Everything.

Disclaimer: I have not been fortunate enough to play any of the games, so this analysis will focus solely on the show. <3

First, what do vampires mean in storytelling?

A vampire can symbolize many things, but here are the big three: they're a representation of the Other, the unknown (kind of like Frankenstein's Monster), but they can also be a manifestation of carnal, sinful, or deviant desires (think Dorian Grey). The one I'm going to focus on here, as it's the most relevant, is the third main type: the Parasite. Vampires are bloodsucking, gluttonous, selfish starving monsters that consume and consume until there is nothing left (think Robert Baratheon).

This was a theme that was explored in the first series with the Church's opulence and their desire to sacrifice innumerable human lives for the sake of their image and power. Carmilla is the same, but in contention with the Church.

This theme is expanded upon beautifully in Nocturne, with the French Revolution bourgeoise and American colonization and slave trade building upon the themes of the first series. Olrex talks about his home being destroyed, his lover's people being exterminated but holding onto his identity even in undeath. Annette holds onto her Yoruban faith and her Creole heritage taught to her by her mother and fellows even after generations of cultural genocide at the hands of her masters- a combination of more than one old indigenous faith and newer conglomerations of the same. (In this way, one could say that Erzsebet Bathory and Annette are foils!)

How does Erzsebet Bathory fit into this thematically?

Let me explain it like this: Erzsebet Bathory is a white woman dripping in stylized opulence who swallowed an Egyptian god. The truest enemy in this series is colonialism: the consumption of everything and everyone that isn't white and Christian to expand white and Christian ideals and desires using God as a face for their misdeeds- the consumption of people, land, culture, religion, knowledge, kindness. What could not be consumed was destroyed.

In this way, Erzsebet Bathory is the manifestation of all the greatest evils people of color and minorities have ever faced, and continue to face today: that of homogenization, exploitation, and destruction.

The fact that this is expanded by her vampiric elitism builds upon this idea by including all human beings. It's open knowledge among many anthropological circles that colonization destroyed a lot of technology, culture, and knowledge, has held society back, and continues to lead to unnecessary and painful struggle among society (largely due to that fact that many developed nations' governments are still being run by vampires today- how are all my fellow Americans doing as we barrel toward a government shutdown for this very reason?).

Erzsebet Bathory signifies the consumption of the human spirit and the death of mankind, wrapped up in a beautifully terrifying amalgam of every single sin the colonizers ever committed. She's not the ultimate character of Nocturne by a long shot, but she is the ultimate monster.

#castlevania nocturne #castlevania #netflix #erzsebet bathory #alucard #richter belmont #annette #i cannot stress enough how wonderful this show is #ignore the questionable voice acting #and strap in for a critique of both past and present #and also amazing application of classical music

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pascalsbby · 11 months

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CARNAL / Chapter 3: Exalt

CARNAL Masterlist

Summary: 3.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, stalker!joel.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, Joel talks you through it, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, brief mention of religion. talk of: anal/Joel masturbating/fingering himself + the usual pure filth. you’re welcome.

“I beg you. Eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.” - Hélène Cixous

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

The resonating depth within his voice reached out and caressed you for a moment. For that split second there was warmth, excitement. And then terror.

Your gaze instinctively fell upon the intricate web of veins tracing an unmissable pattern across his skin. You weren’t listening to the words leaving his mouth, all you remember is him on his knees last night, spread open on his bed as he pleasured himself with his own fingers to your decree.

“Mhmm, so good. Now stick in another one.” He moved it around his tightness, then did as he was told.

“Just like that,” he whimpered at your praise. “Good boy. Does it feel good? Has anyone ever touched you there? I bet you have plenty of times, haven’t you? Cumming hands free with your own fingers in your asshole. Such a naughty boy.”

He wanted to “try something new.” He said he’d pay you double if you played along well. It wasn’t hard to say yes to him, you would have probably done anything he asked of you, money or not. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position, fucking his fingers in and out of himself was enough payment for you. His stutters had been godly as he shoved his face down into the bed, reaching further into his own bliss.

Now, the irony became clear as day: his intention to grant you a sense of control only fueled the impending destruction he had planned for you. It dawned upon you that this twisted game was nothing but a source of perverse pleasure for him, unwaveringly. You felt it punch you in the chest.

You would be damned if you were going to fall to your knees in the middle of your own capstone show. It wasn’t even that, though, the possible embarrassment of collapsing and then having to make up a reason why. It wasn’t even him encumbering such a momentous occasion in your career, in life. It was that you’d shown this man everything you had and he took it in his weighty fucking hands and crushed it. He took advantage of you. He knew every one of your catches, he knew how to mold you.

He knew how to undo you, too.

Had he been recording your encounters? Did he know where you lived? What car you drove? Sarah lived right down the fucking hall.

Sarah.

You were so full with shame it felt like you were going to puke it up. It felt like it was moving up your throat, blocking your airways and tightening its hands around your throat.

He found you. He was Sarah’s father. He was your fathers apparent best friend. He was your dirty secret. He was your stalker, prowling for god knows how long in the shadows.

“Joel here reached out to me a couple months ago, askin’ how the family was. It’d been ten or so years since we’d seen each other last, right?” Joel nodded his head at your dad. Much quieter and reserved in real life, you guessed. Asshole.

“I’m glad you reached out, it’s been good getting to know you again, old man. Just like the ol’ days. 10 years is too long.”

10 years… You’d met him before? You couldn’t remember when exactly. How could you not remember him? No, you were a child ten years ago- this wasn’t your responsibility nor was it your fault. He’s met you before. He remembered. You didn’t.

In all actuality, he did remember the day he met you. You were 15 years old, a shell of a person. You weren’t happy, running around with your friends that summer like he thought all 15 year olds ought to be. He watched a much younger Sarah running around the front yard in the sprinklers, screeching and throwing her hands up in great fervor that summer. You spent most of your time indoors, painting out of long-gone watercolors.

Joel was there helping your dad build the shop that summer. To a teenager so stuck inside of herself, he was probably just passing through. A quick, fleeting memory.

Most nights he would stay for dinner, Sarah was at her mom’s for the summer, so he had no one to go home to anyways. He sat across from you, his attention perched upon your father, mostly talking about whether they should get this lift or that. What type of metal was best for that kind of support. Joel always pushed his peas to the side, hoping no one would notice.

In those rare moments when you did grant him your full attention, your eyes met his with an imploring intensity, silently begging for understanding, a touch of heartfelt empathy. He would pass you when he came inside to go to the bathroom and his steps would falter. Should I ask her if she needs me?

One time your parents were in the kitchen and he thought he’d give you something to laugh about. Mainly to just see if he could make you smile. See if you could laugh.

“Hey…” he broke the silence, broke you out of whatever trance you’d been in. Your brown eyes found his.

“I’ve gotta question for you, darlin’,”

“Okay,” you had hesitated.

“Tell me, a horse walks into a bar- now what does the bartender say?” He paused, waiting for a response, his half-smile sneaking up the edges of his lips.

Silence, waiting.

“… why the long face?" He let out.

And then your laughter erupted. The awkwardness was far more funny than the joke itself.

“I’m sorry but that was the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard, Miller.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grinned.

He knew your dad could be a cruel man, but he’s always hoped after college he would grow out of it. Especially once he married and had a kid, then two. They didn’t keep in close contact after college, but maybe he should have been checking more. If anything, to see how you were. To see if your brother knew how to be a man. He knew your mother wasn’t emotionally or really even physically present herself.

He never once had any sexual or unruly thought about you then. But he had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to care for you, protect you. The world hadn’t been fair to you.

He built the shop over three months and then was gone.

It wasn’t until the day after Sarah showed him those pictures that it clicked for him. Those eyes had gazed upon him before, asking the same question. He did some more digging and realized who you were, whose daughter you were. Only after touching himself. He couldn’t take those touches back, the thoughts or the fire in his torso. That only added to the guilt, but it wasn’t enough to stop it from turning into something ugly.

How long had he been at this?

“Excuse me,” you croaked out, lamentably.

No one heard you over the chatter, over your dads feeble storytelling.

“It was good of you to come today, Miller.”

Sarah must go by her mother’s mai- Miller? The guy who has helped your dad build his shop one summer. He would stay for dinner and always sneak glances your way.

Over the past four years being separated from the environment you were forged in, many secrets had unveiled themselves. Most of them nothing but a fragment attached to something bigger. A thrown beer bottle shattering at your feet, road rage, anger directed towards your mother. A therapist told you it was a coping mechanism, it’s what little you’s brain had to do to survive- forget. And so you did, and were still often a forgetful person.

“I’m glad we’ll be able to get our families together more often, now that we know our girls are best friends,” he smiled, happily.

He has no fucking idea. No idea that his daughter was bent over for Joel last night, spreading herself wide open for him while he whispered how badly he wanted to ‘fuck her into the ground’. Tear her apart by his teeth, his fingers, his tongue.

“And Sarah,” he turned to her, “it’s nice to see you again too, sweetheart. ‘Not the same seeing you grow up on your mom’s Facebook. No wonder this one here is so drawn to you,” he looked in your direction, “‘specially if you’re anything like your father. God he used to make her laugh.”

Communication with your father had been sparse over the past four years. In your childhood bedroom, you would often find solace on the floor, fervently beseeching any divine entity that would listen, imploring for an escape from that house. Once you finally broke free, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. However, it wasn't an emancipation from the burdens accumulated, but rather a conscious decision to spare yourself from the weight of conversing with him frequently; what that meant to do so and what it brought back up.

The pieces of the puzzle now fit together, as if orchestrated by the stranger who stood before your father, deliberately intertwining these unresolved threads, demanding their resolution. It made sense that these loose ends didn’t fulfill until now; until the stranger standing across from your dad wanted them to.

Joel chuckled and you wanted to punch him his fucking teeth. Everyone was looking at you now, waiting for your joyous relief at the rekindling. But you couldn’t speak, and you were sure the color was flushed from your face.

“It’s a shame Sarah was at her mothers that summer. Coulda started bein’ friends years ago. I would ha-“ Joel started.

“I said, excuse me.”

You’d heard enough.

You tore between Sarah and Joel to get as far away as possible. The look on her face hurt, oh my god it hurt. She was so confused why you had a problem with one of her favorite people, her dad.

Before you could get away from him he reached out and brushed his fingers against your waist. How fucking dare you touch me, you thought. But where his skin had touched yours was rising warmth, goosebumps, TV static- a trigger. Your body answering to his, pitifully, willingly.

You made it to the door before anyone caught you or could stop it. All of those people in that room were there for you. It hurt leaving them, but it would hurt even more to have to bare it all to them.

You headed to the third floor of the art building, saying fuck it to waiting for the elevator. You didn’t want to give anyone the chance to catch you and ask questions. The sharp shutting of each metal door made you jump as you got to the last one, feet creaking the old water-damaged floor. This hidden bathroom had always been a hiding spot on particularly hard days, when critiques tore you down or you simply just couldn’t hold in erupting sadness. This was a new sinking feeling.

Despite the pain that gnawed at your jaw each and every time, you became adept at concealing tears, mastering the art of hiding the hurt as the drops silently rolled down your face. Tears meant weakness, it meant getting torn into deeper in your childhood home. A place you’d never really left.

You heard his footsteps before the door creaked shut. His boots falling heavy beneath him. He came into view and he started to open his mouth.

“I was 15,” you snarled.

“Do you do this often, Joel? Stalk your daughters friends and tell them how much you want your nasty cock in their mouth? Pay them to strip for you and pay them extra to stick their fingers in their pussy so you can get off? How many? How many fucking girls have you done this to Joel?”

Rage. You didn’t like to let out it of where it spent most of its time, walking back and forth across your chest, heavy, always present just beneath the skin. The one thing you had inherited from your dad. It was painful to keep it in, hose it down and stop it from simmering. It was easy to let it loose. It felt like unfurling.

He looked like a wounded puppy, brown eyes turned downward beneath drooping eyebrows. Why wasn’t he angry? You knew how to ‘deal’ with anger. It was easier to scream back and fight than it was to sit and be screamed at.

“Should I ask Sarah?” You threw the words in his face.

“Shh, shh. Lower your fuckin’ voice,” he growled. His entire demeanor shifting.

There it was.

He stepped towards you, towering above as he grabbed your shoulder losing himself for a moment, throwing you against the concrete wall behind you. You winced as your shoulder blades hit the cold. “One more loud word out of your pretty mouth and I will break you.”

One hand against the wall above your head, the other held out against the wall beside you, keeping you in place. He leaned down, smelling your hair, inhaling deeply. He kissed you on your forehead- all attempts at disarming you.

You thought about running again. Telling your dad how much of a perv his best friend was, simply to watch him release his anger. You knew how hard he hit. It was Joel’s turn.

“Why me?” You fawned.

He looked down into your eyes, moving his face close enough to yours to feel his warm breath against your cheeks. He was completely intoxicating. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, of booze. Lust. You could get lost beneath him. It wasn’t like you practically hadn’t across a computer screen, already.

“It was your eyes, Birdie.”

“My eyes?” You threw back at him. Looking into his eyes made it increasingly harder to think of anything other than your past encounters. His moans resurfacing, caressing the hardening of your nipples.

“What the fuck are you talking about you fucking psycho?” You attempted a shove, using your body weight to try and flee. You didn’t want to give into him. You needed to get away from him.

He didn’t move an inch. But you did invite more fury. His hand left the wall above you and moved down to your throat, then your chin. He moved it up towards him, so your eyes had nowhere to look but into his. His grip released some, but you were sure he’d leave bruises on your cheeks.

“Let me explain, okay? It’s not what you’re thinkin’. I’m not a freak. I saw that picture of you and I just wanted to help you, hold you, baby. This got out of hand and it wasn’t what I meant it to be. I didn’t know I was gonna need you like this. Just sit down and let me talk.”

The husky ‘baby’ hung in the air. It hung between your thighs, too. Why are you always drawn the bad, vile, disgusting things?

“Listen to you quantify how much you wanted to fuck 15 year old me? How it never left so you stuck around and waited for the ‘right’ moment? The one where you might not get arrested if you get caught? How you wanted to stick your cock inside your best friends daughter?”

“If you don’t shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he warned for the last time, spit hitting your lips. You licked it away, instinctively, and his cock twitched beneath his zipper.

“What? What exactly are you gonna do?”

You invited, drawing your hands up his chest.

“How ‘bout I show you, you fucking brat. You can’t hide from me. I see you, I can see through you. I saw you the very first time our eyes met and I see you now, wigglin’ beneath my touch. You need me sweet’heart, stop denyin’ it. I know you remember how I made you feel without me even touchin you.”

You nodded in disbelief at how disarming his words were.

“So let me touch you.” It wasn’t a question, as much as a demand. He moved his hands to your shoulder and turned you around, pulling up your dress from your front. He stopped midway, slowly releasing your breasts from where they sat in the part of the dress that snugly embraced you. One dropping, and then another. The clothing slid against your hardening buds. You could hear your breathing quickening.

As soon as your clothing thumped to the ground he returned to your skin, cupping your breasts. His hands completely engulfed them and for a moment it felt like he’d done it a million times. You fit so well against him. You were warm, buzzing for him.

He ‘hmmm’ed praises at your back as he pressed himself against you, moving you further into his hands, pushing you both deeper into the concrete wall. He was hard, fully erect against your back. You could feel him against your panties, so long his tip was hitting your lower back. He was big enough that his whole body had a point of contact with yours, enveloping you.

“Your effort not to melt under me is truly admirable.” He snarked, leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your earlobe as his tongue traced a path along the contours of your ear, sending shivers down your neck. He licked them, too. More appearing at the scratch of his beard against your neck.

Then, the warmth of his face was gone and you heard his knees crack as he bent down, reaching in front of you to move your ass towards his face, bending you ever so slightly to his will. Your underwear was delicately covering your cunt and he realized he’d never wanted anything more. He reached and spread your cheeks open.

“Oh so fuckin’ pretty sweet girl. Look at that,” he traced his thumb down the back of your cunt in awe, pushing the fabric deeper into the slick already coating them. You groaned at the relief of his fingers so close to the entrance of your holes.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tutted as you absentmindedly started to squirm beneath his wandering hands. He dug his thumbs into your ass, spreading you open once again. The warm pad of his fingertips turned wet, licking lines up and down your slit, panties pulled to the side. His face was fully between your legs, his nose teasing against your perineum. It wandered to your tense rim, and the flat warmth of his tongue was gone.

He spit.

“You’re the dirtiest girl I’ve ever seen, you know that? Letting me stick my tongue and nose on your pretty little asshole. Want me to fuck you here baby girl?” He circled it, pushing his spit in with the tip of his pointer finger. You whimpered.

“Hmm, I hear you. We’ll save that for next time. It wouldn’t be fair of me not to work you open first.” Breathless, “please Joel” falling from your lips.

“Oh fuck. Say it again. I’ve been waitin’ for my name to pass your pretty lips.”

“Joel, please.” You begged. At this point you didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, besides a release. A release from the situation at hand but more so a release from the pressure he’s causing in your abdomen… in your cunt.

He smirked against you, pointing his tongue into your hole, circling and lapping at you. The noise you made against his tongue as it entered you was absolutely vulgar.

“Could taste these sweet juices for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” He was on his knees now.

He was coaxing sounds out of the base of your throat that you’d never heard before, directing you to stand on your tippy toes, palms against the wall so he could fuck his tongue deeper into you.

You wanted to take him whole, right there. Feel the stretch as he sheathed himself fully into you, claiming you. You wanted the pain.

“Joel, I-“ God he felt so fucking euphoric, mustache tickling your clit as he worked his way up and down your pussy.

“Tell me baby, use your words,” he murmured into you.

“Take me, right now, please. Can’t wait Joel, I’ve been waiting so long.” God you sounded pathetic.

Two of his fingered entered you, fully. You gasped at the fullness and lack of warning.

“You wanna take my cock? You’re so tight you can barely handle two of my fingers. So fuckin’ impatient, hmm?” He curled them upwards and you felt the release.

“Let it happen. Stop fightin’ it and let it out baby. I’ll catch you.”

You went to church a few times growing up. You always admired the fervor and devotion the congregation would sing to the sky, lift their arms and release themselves. That is how you wanted to give yourself to Joel, to sing for him, exalt him with praise and surrender yourself completely.

You wanted him to release you from all of your sins.

“I can take it. Please Joel. Please.”

He rose from the ground, pulling his fingers out of you and suddenly the room had quieted from the sound of your desire, now covering and dripping down his wrist, his chin.

“Then take it.” He tapped your cunt with his throbbing tip, moving his cock around to pick up your juices.

He wrapped his arm around you, covering your mouth, letting you drop your head on his bicep, face towards the roof as he made himself one with you.

Then, you let yourself go and he ripped you open. And you laughed and laughed, through the pleasure and the undoing. The fullness of him was enough to turn you slack in his arms. Screaming moans against his hand, until all of your devotion turned violent.

Chapter 4: DEFILE

”And all of my devotion turns violent.” - Japanese Breakfast, Boyish

A/N: THANK YOUUU for over 1.1k notes on Part 1 and 200+ follows. Writing has been a much needed escape for me, so thanks for coming along for the ride <3

Tag List: @strang3lov3 @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @silkiers @paleidiot @sarap-77 @i-love-rafe

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #carnal #pascalsbby #the last of us #joel miller x y/n #pedro x reader #smut

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bokutosbiceps · 4 months

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sakura blossoms (pt 3)

monkey d luffy x afab!reader | smut | ~1.1k words

warnings: this is allll smut. virgin!luffy is my religion so ✨

a/n: this is pt 3 to the sakura blossoms series !! it's the final part so i hope y'all enjoy it. i know i fucking loved writing it. lemme know what ya think, as always !! 😁

ps. this can be read without reading pt 1/2, it's just smut w a tiny bit of fluff at the end ��

click here for pt 1 !!

click here for pt 2 !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

luffy's lips are hot and searing into your own, branding them so now you think you can never kiss anyone else again.

it's hard for you to believe he's never done this before. he'd insisted he's never kissed anyone, never intimately touched anyone, never had sex, but the way he's working his tongue against yours is far too intoxicating.

you're his first kiss because he likes you, according to him. a girl he'd met three hours ago and latched onto like his life depended on it. and he isn't planning on letting go for a long while.

luffy’s bent over you with you still in his lap, his lips connecting with yours upside down while yours are upright. he releases your cheeks and tries to grab a hold of your chin to tilt your head, but doesn't have enough leverage.

so he wraps his rubber arms around your hips and brings you to face him, pressing you to his chest when he lays back.

luffy can't bear being separated from your lips for too long; a whine escapes his throat and his fingers press into the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his again.

you can feel his hips jerk up and something warm and hard presses against your ass. luffy moans at the delicious friction and repeats this movement, deciding that it feels nice.

luffy is a man of instinct, you can tell, because the way he's rubbing his erection against your ass could only be a movement ingrained in his hips. a carnal need that he's got his desire locked on.

“luffy…” you mumble against his needy kisses.

“hm?” he lets his lips travel down to your neck, where he sucks on the skin overlying your tense muscles. you moan, your fingers reaching up to tug on his hair.

you can feel yourself getting warm and wet and you subconsciously adjust yourself so that luffy’s cock is now rubbing against your covered cunt.

his tip catches your clit at just the right angle and you moan again.

"ya like that?" he huffs, staring at you through misty eyes. you just bite your lip and nod. luffy takes this as a sign he's doing something right, so he keeps jerking his hips up to grind against you.

“are you sure you wanna…?” you push against his chest lightly, making him lay back and look at you. his eyes are half lidded and there's a lazy smile on his saliva covered, swollen lips.

“wanna what?”

“this is your first kiss…shouldn't we—”

“have sex? yeah.” luffy breathes. sanji’s taught him lots about love and romance and what to do if and when he finds someone he wants. luffy’s going to listen to his heart as he usually does, and go after what he wants, as he usually does.

luffy lifts his head back up to seal his lips against yours. any thought of stopping flees your mind and all you can focus on is cumming with luffy.

you push against luffy’s chest once more to sit up, your hands scrambling to find the sash on his kimono and untie it. you sit up slightly to allow his kimono to fall open on either side of him.

you separate your kimono and bunch it around your waist then move to straddle his thighs and wrap your fingers around his cock, squeezing gently and pumping up his shaft. you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second as you watch beads of pre cum bubble up from his tip.

“y/n…stop teasin’. i wanna be inside ya.” luffy’s voice comes out as a mixture between a whine and a moan, and his hands are in his hair, tugging on his locks in frustration.

your fingers find their way to your clit and you rub quickly, working up enough stimulation to make sure you're as gooey as possible for the future pirate king’s pleasure. luffy watches on in awe, his mouth ajar.

his mouth is then blown wide open in a guttural moan when you sink down onto him, his hands flying to your hips as he pushes you further down. he's loud, and you're grateful you're in a shack in some forest.

“sh-shit.” luffy stammers. “you're s-so warm. y-you’re squeezin' me so tight.”

the feeling of your cunt milking his cock is something he never thought possible, and he can't get enough of it. his hands work in tandem with his hips as they push you down to meet his powerful thrusts.

your hands find purchase on his shoulders and you hang on for the ride of your life, little moans and mewls slipping out from your lips due to the sheer force of his hips slamming against yours.

“a-ah, y/n, i feel like i'm gonna burst.” luffy whines, arching his back up off the floor to reach deeper within you.

the tip of his cock is weeping and painting your cervix with his precum.

luffy gets addicted to the way you cry his name and decides he wants to hear it way more often than you're giving him. so he moves one of his hands down between your thighs and thrusts a bit slower and shallower.

you about burst into tears when you feel the pad of one of luffy’s fingers rough against your clit. he abuses it, rubbing it so fast you think you’re gonna cum in seconds. and you do.

your warm walls close in on his cock as you cum, crying out his name and digging your fingertips into his traps. luffy throws his head back and a groan is ripped from deep within his chest.

both of his hands are back on your hips to hold you down to the base of his cock as he pumps you full of his cum.

his hips are stuttering, minutely moving in and out of your pussy. his eyes are squeezed shut and he's gritting his teeth as he accidentally overstimulates himself with each short drag of his cock.

eventually, his vice grip on your hips loosens and luffy lets go, allowing you to roll off him and lay at his side.

he's quick to turn so that he's facing you. he grabs your chin between his index and thumb, bringing your face forward toward his so he can smooth a soft kiss over your lips.

“join my crew.” he says firmly once he pulls away, keeping his grip on your chin tight enough to prevent you from looking away.

you hesitate, imagining yourself traipsing the seas with luffy, seeing the world with him by your side. and, hopefully, more nights like this.

“i want to, luffy…but my home is here, in wano.” you bite your cheek. “plus, i'm not sure how i can be of any help to you. what would my role even be?”

luffy purses his lips, thoughtful for a moment. “well, i guess we already have a musician.” he hums and closes his eyes, deep in thought. it's not too long before his eyes fly open and he grins. “it doesn't matter, captain says ya don't hafta have a role!”

luffy sits up and crawls over you, pressing light and quick kisses from your collarbones up to the corner of your mouth, where he stops. “your only job is to be by my side. captain’s orders.”

then he presses a kiss to your lips so tender, it immediately helps you realize that you never even had a choice in the first place.

i'm tagging everyone who commented on pt 1 saying they wanted a pt 2 or rb, also the regulars 😗

#one piece #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy smut #luffy x reader #luffy smut #monkey d luffy #luffy

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sketchguk · 1 year

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in my head; kth (teaser)

➵ pairing: fwb!taehyung x reader

➵ genre: pwp (porn with plot), angst, college au

➵ word count: 250 (teaser) / 8k

➵ synopsis: taehyung’s friends love you ー adore you. they probably want to fuck you, but they’ll never admit to it. instead, they’ll push taehyung's limits in the middle of a frat party, testing just how close they can get to you before he takes you to bed in a fit of jealousy. and maybe, just maybe, one of his friends can have a taste too (if he’s lucky).

inspired by thuy's in my head

warnings under the cut!

➵ warnings: unrequited love, commitment issues, dacryphilia, degradation (use of the word slut, whore, and pervert), fingering, oral (f receiving), spit kink, overstimulation, use of the color system, breast play, hand job, unprotected (jealous/possessive) sex, marking, impact play (slapping - face & pussy, spanking), breeding kink, choking, mirror sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, manhandling, mentions of intoxication (mc and & taehyung are sober!), use of the word daddy, mentions of religion, ass play, mentions of dp, creampie

➵ publish date: friday may 19th, 8pm EST

➵ author's note: i'll come back with something more plot driven another time, but today is not that day

“Jeongguk was so sweet to take off your jacket and offer you a drink.” Taehyung circles your clit with calloused fingers as if he has all the time in the world.

These soft, gentle touches only mark the beginning of your punishment, and you’d be lucky if you could crawl out of bed tomorrow morning. You close your eyes, praying to a higher power that you’ll make it out of here in one piece.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” He murmurs against your jaw, pressing a kiss to your chin, barely missing the soft curve of your lips. “I’m pretty sure he thinks about you when he touches himself.”

To emphasize his point, Taehyung glides his hand down the inner part of your thigh. Goosebumps ripple across your skin as you shiver in his hold.

“What if Jeongguk was here, watching you beg for my cock, hm?” Taehyung hums. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You whine desperately, saying anything that would please Taehyung despite how easily your body betrays you ー pussy pulsing with need, carnal and insatiable.

Anyone could tell that Jeongguk has a huge crush on you. It’s in the way that he looks at you with wide, lovestruck eyes. He holds onto every single one of his words as if you’re rewriting the stars. Whenever you share a lame joke that flies over everyone’s head, he’s giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Truthfully? Nothing pisses Taehyung off more than that.

Check it out here!