#speech mannerisms meme

[grimreapersbutt]

Thank you @bogchampion for tagging me 👉👈 I'm sure most of my mutuals were probably already tagged for this so like. Do it if you wanna I ain't your dad.

OC Speech Mannerisms

Dr. Bentley O'Hara

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3 (English, Irish Gaelic[modern AU]) TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep ACCENT: Yes / No (moderate Irish accent) DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY VOCABULARY: ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 EMOTION: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇 SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇

PROFANITY FREQUENCY:⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⬤⬤〇〇〇 BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely/ never DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps. HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don't. WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower. (Middle in modern AU) IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn't.

Randall Lucile Jennings

Fun fact: Randy's voice claim is Arthur Morgan :]

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3 (English) TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep ACCENT: Yes / No (Southern drawl) DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY VOCABULARY: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇 EMOTION: ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⬤⬤〇〇〇

PROFANITY FREQUENCY:⬤⬤⬤〇〇 CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⬤⬤⬤〇〇 BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely/ never DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps. HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don't. WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower. IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn't.

Earl Fisher

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3 (English) TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep ACCENT: Yes / No (HEAVY southern drawl) DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY VOCABULARY: ⬤⬤〇〇〇 EMOTION: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇 SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⬤⬤〇〇〇 (^ however he does intentionally act stupider than he really is as a Tactic)

PROFANITY FREQUENCY:⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤ CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely/ never DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps. HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don't. WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower. IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn't.

Skelter Moondown

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3 (English) TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep ACCENT: Yes / No (British, but in the Victorian fantasy way) DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY VOCABULARY: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇 EMOTION: ⬤⬤⬤⬤〇 SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⬤⬤⬤〇〇

PROFANITY FREQUENCY:⬤⬤⬤〇〇 CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⬤⬤〇〇〇 BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely/ never DOES YOUR CHARACTER'S INTENDED POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE 'WHOM' IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps. HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that's everything / say that's everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don't. WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower. IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn't.

[byanyan]

CHARACTER SHEET

FULL NAME. yeong-hwan byun / 변영환 NICKNAME. byan, ya ya, kid, xevi/voxevi ALIASES. n/a PRONOUNS. they/them SIZE. 5'10 AGE. 17 ZODIAC. cancer SPOKEN LANGUAGES. english (fluent, primary), korean (fluent, secondary), japanese (beginner to intermediate, inconsistently learning)

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR. black, just shy of shoulder-length. usually pulled back in a half ponytail. (literally this. no i'm still not over it) FACIAL HAIR. none. it makes them extremely dysphoric. EYES. dark brown SKIN TONE. warm beige BODY TYPE. ecto-mesomorph — lean but with some decent muscle. VOICE. average in pitch, leaning a little high. loud and brash. they curse heavily, use a lot of contractions, and drop syllables from some longer words — basically, they tend to pronounce words in the easiest way rather than the correct way (ie. they'll always say prob'ly instead of probably). DOMINANT HAND. right POSTURE. decent, though they have a tendency to slouch when they sit. SCARS. far more than someone their age should have, so we'll stick with the most significant ones: a great deal of messy scarring across their knuckles from all assortment of violence, and many marks from knives and broken glass all over their arms. a decently-sized burn on their left shoulder. a large, long scar running from the lower part of the right side of their ribcage on their back, around to their side where it stops just above their hip. a stab wound on their left thigh. BIRTHMARKS. none MOST NOTABLE FEATURES. large, deceptively innocent-looking eyes. big crooked grin. numerous very visible tattoos and scars, most noticeably across their hands and arms.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ―

PLACE OF BIRTH. verse dependent (i am indecisive) HOMETOWN. see above SIBLINGS. none that they know of, but there could be some out there. PARENTS. unknown. all they know of their biological mother is that her last name is byun. their biological father is a complete mystery. they had a set of adoptive parents for their first four years of life, and since then have gone through many caretakers and foster parents.

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ―

OCCUPATION. high school student CURRENT RESIDENCE. verse dependent. usually in a group home for kids in the foster care system in some large city, but their actual home changes fairly often. CLOSE FRIENDS. few and far between. these friends vary across verses and in their closeness. FINANCIAL STATUS. poor. they have minimal financial support through group homes/foster care and otherwise steal to support themself. DRIVER'S LICENSE. nope, and they shouldn't be trusted with one. CRIMINAL RECORD. theft, robbery, burglary, breaking and entering, trespassing, vandalism, arson, assault, manslaughter, resisting arrest, lying to law enforcement, purchase of a controlled substance, sale of a controlled substance, possession of a controlled substance, underage drinking, underage drug use, public intoxication, document forgery. VICES. alcohol and drugs, smoking, violence, constant lying, reckless self-endangerment, shoplifting and pickpocketing.

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ―

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. pansexual. no real preference on gender; they're more attracted to how one chooses to express themself than what their gender is. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. emotions? ew. (they don't know) PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. n/a TURN OFFS. n/a TURN ON'S. n/a LOVE LANGUAGE. gift giving & receiving RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. skittish. they tend to run the moment they realize how close they've let themself get to someone, and good luck getting them to come back. also very inexperienced and not particularly open. struggles with physical touch. fairly selfish.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE. boxer by stra.y kids is still my go-to, though it somehow only just recently struck me that bt.s' fire is also incredibly well-suited. HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME. outfit design, stick and poke tattooing, knife tricks, parkour/freerunning, pickpocketing, shoplifting, substance use, picking fights. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. right SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. high. too high. they need to be knocked down a few pegs.

tagged by:ㅤ@ohshadow thank you! ♡ tagging:ㅤyou if you are also a freak who loves filling out character sheets

[llamagoddessofficial]

this is probably already been asked before, but how would the boys be in a long distance relationship?

I don't think I've ever actually done this one before!

Sans: He'd be really good at an LDR. This is the meme king himself, after all. The fact that he can just teleport to come see you aside, he doesn't desperately need physical affection like the others. He's definitely cuddly with those he loves, and he would miss you a lot, but he's also alright with having his own space. You guys can just be bored together on calls. He's absolutely hilarious over text, the kind of guy you would start messaging only to look up at the clock and realise you've been talking to him for four hours straight.

He likes texting, and he's always laughing at your messages, but video calling is his favourite. He wants to see your face, even if you're both doing absolutely nothing.

Red: An LDR would be really good for him.

Red has a habit of using physical intimacy like a shield. He avoids addressing his real feelings, he covers up uncomfortable moments with touching or flirting. In an LDR, he has to acknowledge his feelings... both to you, and himself, or things just won't work. Texting gives him time to relax and gather his thoughts, plan his responses, navigate complicated feelings before speaking. Talking over the phone means he can hide his face and get little more confident at being affectionate in a romantic way. He gets better at putting things into words, and by the time the two of you do see each other in person, he's already overcome a lot of the emotional hurdles he otherwise would've stumbled at.

At the start of the LDR he'll prefer texting, since chatting to you can make his voice crack. But as time goes on he defaults to calling.

Skull: Surprisingly, he could manage! It varies wildly, though, depending on whether or not he's met you in person before.

If he's met you in person before the relationship becomes long distance, his biggest struggle is missing you being around. He isn't great at teleporting and it frustrates him that he can't go see you. He texts you almost constantly throughout the day, about random stupid stuff. Sometimes single word messages; 'snail?' with an attached picture of a snail he found in his garden.

If he hasn't met you in person, he has a lot of self esteem issues and self doubt. He feels like he's fooled you into being in a relationship with a thing like him. What if one day you meet in person? He's so much more intimidating in person. Will you really want to stay with him once you see how off-putting his mannerisms can be? Once you understand how broken and clingy he is? (Please let him know ASAP that big scary guys are your type)

He prefers to text. Calling is hard, hearing your voice makes him feel so much better, but he struggles so much with speech and he doesn't want you to feel pressured to do all the talking. Video calling makes him far too emotional, it's just not the same.

[ataraxiaspainting]

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.

[fryday]

I know there were so much going on in the new mukbang video, but I feel like we need a deep dive into the whole "I don't want to not do this, but I also just want you to be happy...I didn't want you to do something that didn't feel right for you. You should always follow your dreams and heart" speech. Sacrificing the thing you love and bring you the most monetary income for the person you LOVE.. This right here is the hard launch. In this day and age (especially in the whole "influencer" world), people prioritize money, fame, recognition, views over anything. We literally see how many relationships were destroyed because of money. YET, Phil said this line to Dan in the first mukbang video so lovingly and wholeheartedly and still a 5-years hiatus later. Like...YOU are above everything else in my life. UGH. My heart literally combusted and my forever dried eyes literally shed real tears as I heard him say this. So many people are saying Phil is winning the idgaf war, when bro clearly has been giving way too many fucks about his little giant "buddy" in the past 15 years (and still counting).

I sent you an ask before and said that I feel like Dan spoils Phil so much in this new era. After watching this mukbang video, I would say Phil DESERVES to be treated like a tudor princess. If I were Dan, I would be like him too... like...you don't have to catch me when I faint or go to the hospital with me when I am literally half blind if you prioritize ME and my feelings in your life and willing to support and love me no matter what. :')

this is so true anon. so so true. the joke about phil being the king of winning the idgaf war is really really funny because he DOES handle dan's more "serious" issues in such a hilarious, matter-of-fact way, and it just makes for incredible memes.

but jokes aside, it's really just different ways of showing love. i feel like phil's love is an accepting love. it's the kind of love that you can fall on, the kind of love that takes you in as your whole self (flaws and oddities and all) and says "you belong here" anyway, "i'll support every part of you". and we know this was exactly where dan found his sanctuary at 18 years old when they first met. in the same vein, it's phil so many years later saying i want you to be happy, first of all. YOU, the human in my life, before the "you" that involves your job/career/public perception/etc.

so when people laugh about phil winning the idgaf war it's because phil won't fuss over dan or wax poetic about how the fated creation of ranch parallels the fated creation of dan and phil (not over it), and that's simply because phil doesn't seem to express his love by *putting it out*. he expresses his love by *taking in*. his love is in his acceptance.

on the flipside, i feel like dan is someone who puts his love out (ironic considering he's the "love isn't real" guy, but). he shows his love in the million and one little gestures (see: him basically making half of phil's drink in the phantasy cocktails video) and proclamations of love (see again: ranch parallels). so, as you said, it comes across in a more doting sort of manner - which is just. well it's adorable.

tl;dr - they love each other more than anyone could ever encapsulate in a tumblr ask + response, but in different equally valid ways.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Iconic elements of Film!Boromir's character that everyone remembers;

Very into Aragorn, has multiple meaningful scenes with him where he is clearly disarmed, awed, unnerved and yet eager for his approval and companionship. His acceptance of Aragorn's right to the kingship is treated as a vital part of his character arc and even his last words before his death are entirely about Aragorn.

Awkward, often stalling or stumbling over his words, says things that leave uncomfortable silences and often makes loud declarations of intent, very earnest in all his mannerisms and always says everything in a guileless way. Very upfront and open about his emotions, to the point of making Aragorn uncomfortable in his attempts to connect with him about his fear for Gondor's safety and his own inner turmoil surrounding his father.

Immediately ring-obsessed. He argues with Elrond about the Ring's usage and clearly is not swayed by further arguments, in fact is sent by his father specifically to get the ring and so is technically a traitorous element in the fellowship from day one. Eagerly ensures he has a place in the fellowship at the Council of Elrond and is blatantly suspicious with his treatment of both Frodo and the Ring from then on. No one in the fellowship trusts him and for good reason.

Kinda a liability! Doesn't really offer anything to the Fellowship other than another sword arm, and one that seems sub-par in comparison to his comrades considering his underestimation of the Hobbits and the multiple times he has to be saved in Moria. Has no real expertise or wisdom to offer, barring obvious declarations like 'this will be the death of the hobbits'. Indeed the one moment of apparent unique wisdom he offers 'one cannot simply walk into mordor' is so widely viewed as foolish advice that it's one of the most enduring memes of the internet to date. Only has one moment of apparent skill in his final stand against the Uruks where he kills about 5 by himself before he is hit by 3 arrows and rendered helpless. Very much characterised as 'the normal guy' and 'the himbo'.

Has a nice, supportive and loving relationship with Faramir, his little brother that looks up to him adoringly and with a sense that he could never measure up to Boromir and that Boromir is his better. Protective of faramir.

Hah that was fun and now, completely unrelated, here are TRUE AND IMPORTANT FACTS ABOUT BOOK!BOROMIR!!

Has one (1) line of dialogue about Aragorn and his kingship that essentially reads 'Well I don't care about Kings but if mythic heroes from legend could come and help my people we'd be grateful (press x to doubt)' and then he NEVER! VOICES A SINGLE OTHER OPINION ABOUT ARAGORN! FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. This includes his very last words which don't mention Aragorn or the Kingship once.

Clear-spoken! Makes concise speeches full of relevant and important information when in an official capacity. Always has a tone of well-meaning half-humourous sarcasm, making casual and comfortable jokes at his own expense or sometimes lightly teasing his fellows. Otherwise restrains his disagreements to darkly humourous complaints, strained and weary reactions or clear unemotional declarations of his concerns depending upon the recipient. Takes the phrase 'you'll have to pry my feelings from my cold dead hands' entirely literally, NEVER reveals the true extent of his internal struggles until the moment he is literally dying. In fact is entirely silent whilst Aragorn is asked to describe Gondor and waxes so lyrical he doesn't even notice Boromir get up and leave.

Asks one (1) clarifying question at the Council of Elrond about why they aren't using the ring, accepts the answer entirely and never mentions it again UNTIL Galadriel tempts him with it in Lothlorien. Doesn't even WANT to go on the fellowship and is more dragged along by Aragorn with the pretext that 'Gondor is on the way to Mordor so we'll tag along.' Is utterly trustworthy and has no ulterior motive in arriving in Rivendell other than his search for an answer to his prophetic dream. In fact his whole behaviour and personality changes immediately after Galadriel's mental interrogation and he BECOMES awkward, unnerving and unsure in his speech all of a sudden.

Has a WEALTH of knowledge, experience and personal skill that he uses to save the fellowship multiple times. Saves them all from freezing to death on Caradhras through his preparedness, his arguing with Gandalf and his personal durability. Hacks the head off wargs when they are attacked in the night. Remains lucid whilst the fellowship is paralyzed with fear by the Balrog and stalls it's approach using his horn to allow them time to flee. Fights alongside Aragorn at every opportunity, including charging with him at the Balrog as Gandalf is fighting it. And not only that, he regularly is proven right in his advice (that is rarely heeded) and is well informed on both his own peoples history and Rohan's position, even against Gandalf and Aragorn's doubt of their character. Actually saves Merry and Pippin initially from the Northern orcs whom he drives away entirely before he begins taking them back to the others, is only stalled when they are ambushed by Uruk-Hai. Continues to fight on even with far more than three arrows in him and actually yanks a few out before collapsing against the tree. Definitely not a normal guy, nor a himbo, just exceptional in a more mundane way than everyone else in the fellowship (except the Hobbits).

Never mentions his brother a single time, somehow got him to stand and defend the bridge of osgiliath with him whilst knowing that it would likely kill them both so not all that protective. Faramir meanwhile cannot say a single uncomplicatedly complimentary thing about his brother and in fact cannot stop telling Frodo (a man he has imprisoned for half a day), about what a stupid, reckless and prideful man Boromir was and how he's far better in every single way.

WOW HAHA ISN'T THAT INTERESTING! COOL! Book Boromir is my favourite character by the way haha I'm suffering incomprehensible horrors :)

[notedchampagne]

i read princess floralinda and the 40 flight tower : first off FUCK THE TUMBLR POST that made me mistakenly believe this book had cannibalism in it. i am mournful to say that it did not.

despite this i enjoyed it a stupid amount and i think its a very entertaining read, especially if you share tazs sense of humor or like the variation in narrative styles throughout tlt. actually i think reading this book made me realize more why she wrote gtn and htn all [gestures] like that... tlt definitely has a larger number of memes but the way princess floralinda is written reminds me a lot of the original character-based humor you can see in gideons speech and just the general situational hilarity of things. i also think her take on a princess story is really delightful and sweet! and i didnt expect that amorphous, ambiguous kind of romance in it. its also very much like tlt in the manner that love is slowly present between the cracks in the story, but with tlt love IS the point of everything while in floralinda the love is a sickly ironic kind of development. it was like if stockholm syndrome was entertaining. A+.

i would recommend this mainly if you 1) liked mercymorn in htn 2) appreciate a good character development coming from a dumb princess, and 3) again, share that similar sense of horrific fucking humor taz has:

[devilry-revelry]

Debauchery | Hancock x Female!Sole Survivor

An (ancient) fill from the (ancient) fallout kink meme. I've had a couple of requests for Hancock, so here is one of the better ones I've done.

-

When his fingers caressed the column of her throat, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. How long had it been since she had been touched in such a way? His touch was rough but somehow soft, tickling under mangled fingers. An unintelligible sound left her, not a moan, but a very failed attempt at speech.

“Would you let me educate you, Nora?”

-

The Prompt:

Due to Pre-War America's obsession with enforcing a perpetual and idealized '50s, people were not supposed to be sexually adventurous (or even sexual) and the whole of the Female Sole Survivor's sexual experience was the missionary position for the purposes of procreation and *maybe* a little masturbation that she felt really ashamed about.

But now the world has ended and suddenly all the old sexual taboos no longer apply. And it turns out there's a whole world of freaky sex out there F!SS never dreamed of or dared imagine*. And she wants to try all of it.

-

NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact Tags: Pining, Mild bondage, Mild Sensory play, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, Cum play, Old and Poorly Written Smut

//

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul—“

Nora’s eyes tore away from the nearly destroyed paperback copy of Jane Eyre when Hancock shuffled in. He had a bottle of bourbon in his hand, looking quite pleased with himself as he took a quick swig. Nora smiled in quiet greeting from her spot in the nearly dilapidated couch. She had a large blanket draped over her lap, her feet tucked on the cushion beside her as she read. It was quiet at the Red Rocket Truck Stop, and that was just the way Nora liked it. The abandoned gas station was her home away from home, a place where she didn’t have to deal with needy settlers - a place where she didn’t have to deal with an even needier Preston Garvey. It was small, but it was one of her favorite haunts. She spruced the place up with some furniture, an old couch – which she was currently curled up on – and a few chairs, and a bed. What initially started out as her own place of peace and quiet turned into their place of peace and quiet. Hancock had managed to make himself a permanent fixture in her life, and she didn’t mind one bit.

“Whaddarwe readin’ t’night, Doll?” The ghoul asked as he approached.

Nora reached out and pulled the blanket back, allowing Hancock to flop into the cushion beside her. Once he was seated, Nora draped the blanket over his lap. She licked her thumb and turned the page of the book just as Hancock leaned into her side. He took another drink of the liquor, his head on her shoulder. He smelled like wood smoke from the fire pit they congregated around to cook their dinner, and the gentle sweetness of the alcohol.

“Jane Eyre,” Nora said fondly.

“When’r’ we gonna read somethin’ exciting?” he slurred softly.

Nora liked Hancock.

Though there were some things that he did that she really disagreed with (his drug use, mainly), she found herself thoroughly enjoying the ghoul’s company. Their travels had started with tentative, nearly forced discussions but they managed to forge a steady relationship in a manner of hours. Gradually, Nora opened up to Hancock and Hancock opened up to her. Their friendship was forged from the heat of the fight. They protected each other, spilled blood together. They ate together – they lived together. Hancock was a good man. As kind as he was cruel, his men had said. They couldn’t be more spot on. There were some days where Nora found it incredibly hard to imagine that the man had staged a bloody coup. It was the same man who spent hours searching for a locket, for a woman who he didn’t even know. It was the same man who helped clean up the young ghoul-boy that they found in a rusted old fridge. Hancock was fierce as he was kind, and Nora found herself trusting the ghoul unconditionally.

“Jane issa prude, and Rochester issa asshole.”

Nora tilted her head to look at the ghoul as he rested against her shoulder. She closed the book over her thumb, “You’ve read Jane Eyre?”

“Told you, Doll,” Another swig of the bourbon. “The Mentats are my ride of choice. I get all intellectual ‘n’ shit.” He threw her a lazy smile as he peered up at her face. Those black eyes of his looked a little glassy, shimmering in the lamp light.

Nora smiled, reaching up to flick one of the corners of his hat. She looked back at the book in her hand, gazing at the faded cover fondly. “Well, Mr. Intellectual,” she said, “I will say to you, that Jane is a product of her time. She is actually quite bold, rising above her station. And Rochester is, indeed, an asshole.”

“Pff,” he snorted. “Bold? Nah, the lady in the tower or the fuckin’ attic. Whatser name? That woman, she got around. Now she was bold.”

“And she got locked up for it. Her… sexual preferences aren’t exactly normal.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a sexually adventurous woman, sweetheart,” Hancock rumbled, his voice low. “She probably liked the good stuff too. Getting’ tied up, ‘n’ spanked and… Why can’t be read Robot Porn? Jane Eyre is too stuffy.”

Nora furrowed her eyebrows, tearing her gaze from the cover of the book. “I’m sorry… being tied up is the good stuff? That sounds awful.”

Hancock’s grin was absolutely wolfish, the glassiness in his eyes noticeably dimming, as if he suddenly chose to no longer be drunk. “Oh, Nora,” he murmured. “Ol’ Nate never tied you up? No silk scarves or rope?"

The way Hancock referred to Nate was nearly endearing. The ghoul spoke about her late husband as if the two had been good friends. Nora didn't mind. Though she still desperately missed Nate, the wounds had ample time to heal. The two would have been fast friends, anyway. Both of them were loyal, and fierce, and passionate about the things that they believed in.

“No! I, we… No!” How could he ask something like that! Nora knew her face was bright red as she opened the book, desperately trying to return to her reading. “Good lord,” she grumbled.

Hancock’s hand slowly slipped into her vision. He closed the book over her thumb. Nora lifted her eyes, dreading her very existence. They weren’t going to talk about this. There was no way!

“Did he ever spank you, Nora? Did he ever bend you over his knee?”

Nora wished that a Deathclaw would rip the door down. She wished that it would charge straight for her and kill her with a single swipe of its claws.

“No! We were a normal married couple. We didn’t do those things.”

Hancock was grinning ear to ear. Nora silently noted that the topic of sex wasn’t what upset her. She would discuss her sex life with the ghoul, no problem. It was the acts he spoke of; the bondage and the spanking. Those had been things that people whispered about, even in the confines of their own home.

“Didn’t you ever suck the poor man off?”

“Suck what off?”

There was an absolutely delighted light in Hancock’s eye as he maneuvered himself so he was facing her, sitting cross legged in the couch.

“Nora!” he laughed, low and dark. “You two never—“

“Look, okay, we… I would be on… I would lie down, and he would be on top, and—“

“You never rode him? Never fucked him? You never made him beg for your sweet—“ Nora lunged forward, the book completely abandoned. It felt to the ground with a soft thwump as Nora clasped her hand over Hancock’s mouth. She was blushing, all bright and vibrant. Hancock grinned behind her hand. She felt the muscles move and shift, felt the taught skin around his mouth constrict. Then, suddenly, his tongue laved over her palm and she yelped, yanking her hand back.

“Come on,” Hancock laughed. “What is the most sexually adventurous thing that you have ever done?”

“… You first…” She groused as she dried her palm on the blanket.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly. “Back before I was this good lookin’ I managed to get two women in my bed—“

Oh. Oh my.

“One woman rode me, while the other sat on my face…”

Nora blinked slowly, “Sorry, she sat on your face?”

That smile again, all wicked and confident and filled with masculine satisfaction.

“I ate her, Nora. I had my tongue inside her—“

Oh. OH.

“—And then I pushed my fingers—“

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” she yelled, waving her hands in front of him. Nora nearly leaned forward and pressed her hand over his mouth again, but she had already learned that lesson.

“Nora, Doll, you are blushing to the roots of your hair!” He leaned forward, playful and teasing. “That is pretty tame! Not even the most adventurous, really.”

Nora suddenly stood, fanning herself with her hand. She was warm, far too warm.

“It’s your turn, Nora.”

She didn’t look back at him, and she didn’t sit back down. There had been the night in the park, but that story was far too embarrassing to divulge.

“We… I mean, we… We showered together once…”

There was laughter. Nora frowned, feeling embarrassed and hot. She cast a glare over her shoulder.

“Oh, F…” She hated swearing, it was unladylike. But this was a special occasion. “Fuck you.”

Hancock had the decency to try and hold back any more laughter. He reached out and took one of her hands, tugging her back into the couch. She flopped down inelegantly, allowing the ghoul to drape one of his arms over her shoulders.

“I’m only teasing, Nora. I know that it was a different time. Hell, it might as well have been a totally different planet. But… Doesn’t any of it excite you? Didn’t you two want to try any of it?”

Nora threw him a withering glance, “I haven’t heard of some of the things you mentioned.”

"That doesn't answer my question."

Hancock brought her in a little closer, and Nora thought it was a rather comforting gesture. She let her head lull into the crook of his arm, and then she sighed heavily. Maybe they were done talking about it, then. She desperately hoped that they were done discussing it, anyway. Jane Eyre was on the ground, and she wanted to read a little more before bed. And, hopefully, she would forget the whole discussion ever took place.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life,” Nora replied without pause.

Hancock hummed, sounding thoughtful. “Do you trust me with something like this?”

“Like what?”

He smiled that smile again, all wicked and laden with dark promise.

Nora didn’t find Hancock attractive in a conventional sense. He was Nate’s polar opposite in nearly every aspect. Small and thin, but he was also taller than her, kinda stringy. Despite his size, though, she had seen him lift a man twice his size and slam him to the ground (she had stared at him in awe after that). His skin was destroyed, he had no nose, there were bits of exposed muscle, and sometimes she suspected that his hips would be nothing but raw bone. There was, however, something incredibly striking about the man. His eyes, though pitch black, were somehow incredibly expressive. When he smiled, when he grinned, he managed to look quite dashing. Paired with his charisma, his personality, Nora did find herself attracted to him, in a way that she wasn’t totally familiar with. It was attraction based on trust, on experience, and his personality. He could make her laugh like no other, make her smile, and he made her happy. There had never been any level of sexual attraction, not really, but suddenly in that moment…

That smile, dark and meaningful, those eyes smoldering in the warm lamp light…

The sexual attraction smacked into her like a Super Mutant’s sledgehammer. Nora suddenly felt quite jarred. Heat pooled in her belly, and her body practically pulsed. She suddenly felt far too warm – and it wasn’t because she was embarrassed. Where did that come from? It had been strictly platonic, and it was like he flipped a switch. If she had seen that smile from across the bar, she would have been mush. If she had seen those eyes gazing at her, glistening in warm lamp light, looking absolutely devilish, she would have followed him to bed with very little question. Hancock somehow garnered an immense amount of animal magnetism in less than a second.

When his fingers caressed the column of her throat, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. How long had it been since she had been touched in such a way? His touch was rough but somehow soft, tickling under mangled fingers. An unintelligible sound left her, not a moan, but a very failed attempt at speech.

“Would you let me educate you, Nora?”

“Wh-wha—“ she opened her eyes to see him leaning in, his mouth near her ear.

His voice was a rumbling purr, rough but somehow so smooth like barbed wire tearing into silk. “I want to fuck you, Nora. Let me show you everything that you have been missing.” The touch at her neck was gone, now he was just speaking and his voice was making her light headed. The smell of wood smoke surrounded her, encompassed her. “I will take such good care of you, Nora.”

“Ah… Uh…” she opened and closed her mouth, like a fish abandoned on land. “I…”

She was wet, she could feel the moisture in her panties. She had never been spoke to in such a way. Nate had never been so blunt with his speech. He had always let his voice trail off as he escorted her into bed, as he laid her down and moved on top of her.

Hancock’s voice was still a low growl in her ear, “Sleep on it. Let me know.”

“O…Oh… Okay.”

Nora retreated to the bedroom. There was very limited space at the truck stop, so when it came to dragging in a second bed for her ghoul companion, there was really only one option as to where it would be placed. They shared a room, their beds against opposite walls. Privacy wasn’t a huge issue. Hancock typically slept in just his pants, the rest of his clothes abandoned by his bed. Nora often stripped down to her shirt and panties while under her blankets. She would wad up her pants and push them to the foot of her bed so her clothes were warm when she went to get redressed.

She stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, while in reality it had only been a handful of minutes. Eventually, she found her fingers dipping beneath the blankets, slipping into her panties. She tentatively brushed her clit with the pad of one of her fingers. Nora was wet, more so than she expected. Keeping her eyes glued to the closed door, she dipped her fingers between her moist folds, prodding at the opening of her sex. Her eyes closed as she tried to determine what part of her body was more responsive to her hesitant touches. Her clit seemed the most sensitive, so she allowed her fingers to swipe along the bundle of nerves experimentally. A sigh left her and she lifted her hips – just as the door opened.

In a panic, Nora yanked her hand from her panties and quickly feigned sleep. Hancock typically stayed up quite late, drinking and getting high. She hadn’t expected him to be coming to bed so soon. Behind her eyelids she could see the warm glow of the lantern that Hancock carried. She heard the door close, and heard the lock secure into place. Hancock’s footfalls drew close to her bed. Nora found herself holding her breath. The lantern was lowered, she could see the light source shift. Suddenly, very suddenly, she felt pressure against her mons, felt him palm her sex through the bedding and her panties. Nora’s eyes shot open, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared up at Hancock. The ghoul was leaning down over her, grinning. “Do you want some help, Nora?” His palm pressed against her, rubbing slowly.

“I… Uh…”

There had been a time where Nora had been more than capable of articulating around the ghoul. Now, suddenly, she seemed incredibly incapable.

Hancock looked into her eyes as his hand slipped beneath the blanket. His mangled palm drifted over her thigh, slowly returning to her sex. Nora’s jaw went slack, and her eyes closed as his knuckle dragged over her labia through the moist material of her panties. A strained, ”Oh, yes” left her as her toes curled.

“You have to tell me that you want it, Nora. We aren’t going to half-ass this,” the blackness of his eyes glimmered in the warm lighting, looking bewitching, and devilish, and striking. He stroked her through her panties, nice and slow.

“What about after? What happens after?”

A soft smile formed across his features, “Why don’t we see how you feel in the morning?”

Nora recognized that he was trying to give her an out. If, after tonight, she didn’t want to continue along this path in their relationship then they wouldn’t. They would have tonight, and that would be the end of it – if that was what she wanted. Maybe she would enjoy their sexual escapades, maybe she would hate them and feel nothing but regret in the morning. Either way, she trusted Hancock. She trusted him with her life, her wellbeing – why wouldn’t she trust him with something a little more intimate?

In a moment of confidence she said, “Educate me then.” She shifted her hips into his fingers.

That smoldering heat was back in his eyes in an instant. It was all fire, and yearning. “Say you want me, Nora. Please.” His request was punctuated by his thumb pressing against her clit.

“I want you, Hancock. Please sh—“ in a flash the blanket was yanked from the bed, and her legs were draped over his slight shoulders. He lifted her body from the bed until she was reclined on her upper back and shoulders.

“Your safe word is Mentats.”

“Wha—“

His mouth encased her sex, panties and all. The suction he applied, even through her underwear was immense. His tongue prodded and stroked over the material, and Nora immediately found herself breathless and trembling. Nora was expecting sex, not for him to use his mouth on her. Nate’s mouth had never lingered south of her breasts, and even then the visits had been brief. The fact that Hancock’s mouth was lapping at her vagina was… it was something else. She had never imagined anyone’s mouth down there and now that there was… Damn. The suction made her ache deliciously as blood rushed to the surface of her skin. She felt sensitive and hot, and so damn wet.

Hancock pulled his mouth from her once her panties were thoroughly soaked with a combination of his saliva and her own fluids. He tugged them to the side, exposing her glistening lips and carefully trimmed downy curls. Hancock moaned, placing a wet kiss to the head of her clit, to her lips, and then to the quivering opening of her sex. Then his tongue was on her, lapping over the area nice and slow. His tongue was hot and velvety, dragging over her in one smooth stroke. Another moan vibrated against her skin.

“You’re delicious,” he rasped, his tongue dipping into her vagina only briefly. “So fucking delicious, Nora.”

His hands slipped over her rear, catching the waist of her panties with his fingers. He pulled them up over her thighs, forcing her legs to lift from his shoulders. He didn’t remove her panties all of the way. Instead, he left them on her calves. One of his hands fisted the material, and then her legs were being pushed back until her feet were above her head. The angle was embarrassing. She was so exposed to him, so open to his prying eyes – and she could watch him as he gazed at her sex.

“And you’re beautiful. Fuck…” his eyes flicked to hers, and then she saw his tongue. Hancock licked her deliberately slow as he looked into her eyes. She whimpered as the end of his tongue flicked against her clit. Slowly, very slowly, he removed his hat and dropped it near the bed. There was a moment of calm as he peered down into her eyes, and she gazed up into his. Then he lurched forward. His mouth enclosed her labia and her clitoris, and with an obscene slurp, his mouth created an air tight vacuum. His tongue was relentless, flicking over the taut bundle of nerves so quickly she cried out. Nora felt a gush of pleasure leave her sex, felt it slink up along his mouth, felt it slide along the crevice of her ass. Nora’s eyes rolled back in her head as he slid his two fingers into her opening. The questing digits curled slowly, pumping in and out of her to counteract the near frantic movement of his tongue. The coil in her abdomen was wound painfully tight, leaving her as a pulsating, needy mess.

“Haa-Hancock!” she whimpered, reaching to touch the cup the back of his head. She was already so damn close to cumming that it was painful. Just a moment longer, just a little more. “Oh, Hancock, please.” Her voice was airy and ragged, a weak sound of yearning.

A low growl tore through Hancock that reverberated throughout her entire body. His eyes bore into hers meaningfully before he lifted his mouth from her sex with a moist pop. Her pussy quivered around his fingers and she whined loudly.

“No touching,” he growled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed her sex. “And call me John.”

“John,” she whispered, and then pointedly reached behind her head, grabbing the bars that took place of her headboard. “Please, John. I was so close.”

Hancock smiled a glistening smile. He practically purred as he laved her with his tongue, lapping slow and lazy strokes. Nora wiggled, she rocked on her shoulder blades, briefly impaling herself on his still fingers, pushing herself closer to his mouth. He chuckled, a deep dark sound, and then he returned to her. His mouth was focused strictly on her clitoris, pinching her between his barely-there lips, and then his tongue went back to work, back to the frantic, mind numbing pace.

“Yes…” she cooed, grasping the bars with a white knuckle grip.

When he gave a forceful suck, bringing her engorged clit into his mouth, she shrieked, another curling motion of his fingers and she came undone. The entirety of her body began to tingle as her pussy clenched almost painfully. Hancock didn't stop. His mouth remained latched to her body, sucking and tonguing her with renewed determination.

The flicking motion of Hancock’s tongue continued, and the suction created by his mouth seemed to increase ten-fold. He wasn’t stopping. She came, she felt sensitive and over stimulated, but he wasn’t stopping. His tongue suddenly made rapid swirling motions around her clit, circling and lapping at the bundle of nerves. Her inverted legs were starting to tingle, falling asleep in the midst of their escapades. Nora whined, she yelped, she cried out – all of which were inarticulate noises that just stoked Hancock’s efforts.

“Ha-!” She gasped, another finger dipping into her opening. “Y-you have to sto-“ She was cut off as she gasped loudly. His teeth grazed her skin, introducing a barely-there pain in the midst of her mind boggling pleasure. “John, please!” He grazed his teeth against her again, then clamped his lips against her distended clit. Nora’s hand tore away from the metal bars, she reached for his head, trying to push him away, but he caught her. Her hand was pinned to the bed by her wrist. He snarled and the sound, so animalistic and feral, made her tumble over the edge yet again. He tore his mouth from her overstimulated sex. Nora went boneless, her knees sinking down towards his shoulders as she peered up at him blearily. He was gazing at her vulva, his fingers still buried deep inside of her as her walls clenched and pulsed.

Her labia were red, puffy and slick with a mixture of saliva and her own pleasure. Her clitoris was swollen and over sensitive, jutting out from beneath the narrow hood. When his fingers finally slid out of her vagina he was back to mouthing her vulva. He used his tongue to collect her juices with long, luxurious swipes of his tongue. The three fingers that had been inside of her were suddenly at her mouth, and he watched her expectantly. Slowly, she parted her lips and one of his fingers slid over her tongue. The texture of his skin was odd, she could feel divots and seams of muscle, and then she tasted herself. Slightly sweet, barely a taste at all. Hancock coaxed her into suckling each of his fingers clean as he licked, and sucked her quivering sex.

When she was finished he placed a wet kiss against her pussy, and then her legs were finally lowered back to the bed, allowing the blood to rush back to her strained limbs. Before she could catch her breath Hancock’s barely-there lips were upon hers, his tongue in her mouth before she could even process what was happening. He tasted like her pleasure. As his tongue swirled and thrust against hers he took one of her hands into his, and slowly guided her to palm his groin.

She whimpered.

He was hard, solid like rock.

Nora ran her palm over his girth through his pants. Her pleasure addled brain wondered what it would be like to have him on her tongue. She wanted to lick and suckle him much like he had done to her. She rubbed him with her fingers nice and slow as he palmed her breast through her shirt.

“Get on your knees, Nora,” Hancock ordered, his voice a jagged growl against her lips. Nora obeyed, finding that she rather liked him in control and ordering her around. Slowly, she rolled to her stomach, and then lifted herself onto her hands and knees. There was a whisper of clothing, the clank of boots hitting the ground. When she turned her head to look back at him she was spanked. Nora yelped in surprise, and then she whimpered. The sting of the strike was centralized just above her sex, and though it hadn’t been a particularly hard swat, the warm heat pulsed very close to her sensitive mound. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the silken warmth of her pleasure smear against her skin.

Hancock’s hand slipped over the length of her spine, caressing nice and slow until his fingers were in her hair. He tugged until her head was bent back towards him, his erection pressed firmly against her ass.

“Are you ready, Sweetheart?” Hancock growled, rocking his hips slowly.

“I wanna touch you,” she confessed, ignoring his question. “Let me—“

“Ssh,” He purred, he bent low over her body, placing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Tonight is about your pleasure.”

“But I’ve already… I…” she swallowed. “Isn’t twice enough?”

Hancock released a rumbling laugh, deep and sultry and masculine as his tongue laved the side of her throat. “Twice is not nearly enough, Nora. You are going to be a mess when I am done with you. You won’t know if you want me to stop, or if you want me to give you more.”

Without any sort of warning, Hancock drew his hips back and then he thrust them forward, burying himself to the base. Nora screamed, not because of the pain but it did hurt a little. She didn’t scream because she was surprised, but she was quite surprised. She screamed because he was stretching her, filling her to capacity, and it felt so. Fucking. Good. She angled her pelvis back, ground her ass into his hips. She practically purred in delight.

“You’re so tight, Nora. Fuck.”

“John, you feel so good.”

They spoke in unison, voices rushed and ragged and needy. Nora loved the angle at which he penetrated her. She loved how animalistic the position was. The angle was completely unfamiliar to Nora, as her and Nate had always stuck with traditional missionary. This was something else, though. In this position she had a little bit more control of her own body and its movements. As Hancock gripped her hips and began to thrust, she was able to pump her body back to meet him. She rocked back on her knees, and when her skin slapped into his she whined. Little pin pricks of heat and pain stung the back of her thighs.

The pace was fast and rough. Hancock’s hands gripped her hips, yanking her back into his thrusts even as she shoved herself backwards into him. Nora’s pussy clenched around him, and she could feel the columns of muscle, the mottled textures on his dick. Nora’s mouth watered; she wanted to lick her pleasure from his cock. She wanted to experience all of the debauched things her friends had whispered about. She wanted heat, and pleasure, and she wanted doses of pain.

Nora suddenly wanted John to spank her again. Nora wanted John to pull her hair.

“S-aaah,” she whimpered. “Jo-John, spank me. Please.” Her face was flush with pleasure and embarrassment. What would Nate think?

Nora fully expected John to laugh, but instead he acquiesced to her request. His palm rubbed over her right ass cheek, nice and slow and soothing, and then he spanked her. It was a firm swat, delivered by a slightly cupped hand. The sound was loud and deafening, but the sting of pain was delicious.

“More. John, please. More.”

Hancock chuckled, though it wasn’t a mocking sound. He continued to thrust. “You like it when I spank you, Nora?”

“Yes,” she murmured, only feeling slightly ashamed as she shoved herself back against him, arching her back. She clutched her inner walls around him, gripping at his length greedily. “Please, John.”

“Gladly, Sweetheart.”

He spanked her while he fucked her. Every third or fourth thrust was accompanied by a firm smack to her ass. By the time both of her butt cheeks were hot and enflamed she was nearly boneless, pressing her face into her pillow, letting Hancock have full control of the pace he used. Nora’s walls were pulsating and quivering, and she was so damn close to cumming that she could cry. Hancock smoothed his palms over her ass, all gentle and slow.

“John…” He answered her unasked request with another smack. This time, he didn’t cup his hand. He used the flat of his palm, and spanked her – hard. The sound was like the crack of a whip, and the pain had her tumbling over the edge. She came, her ass in the air and her face in the mattress. She moaned, she whined and she writhed. John came only moments later, his cock embedded to the hilt. She felt him cum, felt him pulsate inside of her.

“Oh, yes,” she cooed into the pillow. “Yes!”

Hancock slipped out of her quickly, leaving her stretched but empty. He pushed Nora from her knees and onto her back – and it was only then that she got to see him. He was naked, and he looked so striking.

In another time, Nora would have sworn that she was looking at a burn victim. His skin was destroyed, necrotic and mangled. She could see the seams of muscle, the fibers that constructed the basic muscle groupings. He was scarred, and he was mottled, but with his lazy boyish grin, the stunning amount of confidence, and the burning heat in his eyes made him look incredibly dashing – and, somehow, incredibly sexy.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered, reaching out for him. Hancock caught her hand, and placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“Not yet, baby,” he said, his voice soft and tender though his eyes flickered wickedly. “I’m going to have my way with you.” He leaned down and kissed her, soft and slow. “I’m still so hard for you, Nora.”

“John, I’ve never… You made me…” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“What is it, Doll?”

“I’ve never…” she swallowed. “I’ve never climaxed so many times in such a short amount of time. I…”

“We aren’t finished yet,” he kissed her again, then leaned down over the edge of the bed. The sash that he typically had wrapped around his waist was in his hand, and he slowly brought it up to her eyes.

“Wh-What?”

The sash was tied into place and his scent overwhelmed her. Firewood and smoke, and sweetness assaulted her senses. She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with his scent. He gently took her hands into his, pushing them back up against the bed frame. There was a clicking, a rattling, and then her wrists were wrapped in cold metal. Nora yanked at her arms, finding that she had been handcuffed to the bed.

“John, no…”

“Ssh, Nora,” his voice was near her ear. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

“I feel so helpless. Please, John, I don’t like it…”

Another kiss, deep and sweet. “You said so yourself that you trusted me with your life. Let’s try this just once, Sweetheart. If you don’t like it, then we never have to do it again.”

Nora took a breath. It was dark behind the makeshift blindfold, she couldn’t see anything. Her wrists were cuffed above her head, and she was feeling helpless and vulnerable and she hated that… But she trusted him. She trusted him completely.

“Can we leave my feet untied? Please?”

“Of course, Doll.” Another kiss, and she nearly flinched at the unexpected contact. “Remember,” he purred. “Mentats.”

There was an expanse of time where there was absolutely nothing. There was no sound, no touch. All she could do was breathe, and anticipate his actions. Minutes ticked by and she began to squirm, tugging at her wrists…

And then his voice whispered into her ear, ragged but sultry, ”I’ve wanted you since I saw you, Nora,” And then his voice was at her other ear, still just a whisper. ”I’ve wanted to fuck you since you walked into Goodneighbor.”

Nora trembled. Something cold, like metal or steel, pressed against her collar bone, gently dragging against her skin. Nora gasped, feeling the blade’s sharp edge – and her core pulsed. It clenched at nothing, and her eyes bulged behind the blindfold. It was a knife, it was his knife. The flat edge of the blade dipped down beneath her shirt, and then the material tore away like paper. There was a beat of silence, and then the knife was back, straining the material between the cups of her bra.

“No--!”

There was a low chuckle, right next to her ear.

“You won’t be needing that anymore.”

Before she could scold him for destroying her one halfway decent bra, his hot mouth engulfed one of her nipples. Nora’s words tumbled into a needy whine as his tongue circled the erect flesh. Nora’s back arched, pressing her breast into his mouth, he was suckling, using teeth and tongue – and then he was gone. She flopped back onto the mattress, pulsating and shivering.

Then his fingers caressed her still enflamed sex, his fingers dipping into a mixture of their fluids. He pushed the digits up and over her clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb in a slow stroking motion, again and again until her body began to tense. And then he was gone again.

“John, you can’t—“

”I can do whatever I please, Nora,” he growled next to her ear. Nora flinched, having anticipated his voice originating near the foot of the bed as opposed to right beside her. His fingers danced along her ribs. "And if I want to tease you until you are begging, then I can do just that. I want to bring you to the brink of orgasm again, and again, until you can barely stand it. I will wait until you are delirious, and then I will fuck you senseless.”

Nora’s toes curled and she tilted her head back into the pillows, letting his voice wash over her. A distant part of her wondered if she could cum just by listening to the sound of his voice. His voice was pleasant on the best of days, but after their bed play it was deep and husky and she could hear his need, his yearning. She didn’t expect to enjoy the bit of bondage, she didn’t expect to want to try it on him, either. After dwelling on his lovely voice, she wondered what he would be like stretched on the bed, tied up and begging for her.

Hancock’s hands palmed her breasts, his breath at her ear. When he retreated the bed was shifted, pushing the frame away from the wall so he could have better access to the other side of her body, so he could come at her from all angles.

“That’s better,” he murmured from somewhere above her.

His fingers ghosted a trail from her breasts to her navel only to reappear at her opening. He slipped two fingers inside of her, curling the digits methodically, beckoning her climax to the surface. Nora helplessly rolled her hips. She was already quite close to cumming as her body had already been over stimulated… But then he was gone again, kissing her neck, sucking at her skin.

“Oh, Hancock,” she breathed, tugging at her wrists. “Please…”

A harsh bite was delivered to her neck, causing her to gasp.

”I thought I told you to call me John,” He rasped. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and then he nibbled at the lobe.

“John,” she echoed needily, just before his mouth returned to her breasts. He suckled as if he was trying to feed from her body. She wanted to reach down and cup the back of his head, hold him close – and she wanted to watch. Nora so desperately wanted to watch him enjoy her body. He would watch her with those black eyes of his, they would shimmer in the lamp light and he would look like the devil, and she would give herself to him so readily.

When his mouth and hands left her breasts she whimpered and then gasped as his hand clasped around her throat.

”Can I cum on you, Nora? Can I cover you with my seed? Can I rub myself into your beautiful skin?”

Her body pulsed, her walls clenched on nothing and she inhaled deeply. Why did she want something so… dirty? Why did she want to be covered in him? Nora wanted to know if she had always been so perverse. Had anyone known that she even thought of having a man ejaculate on her she would have been a social pariah.

“Yes.” She trembled. “Yes, anything.”

"Anything?"

Nora was breathless as she felt his erection against the side of her breast. "Anything."

There was a rumbling growl of a sound as Hancock’s fingers dipped down over her mons. They slipped over her clitoris, dipping between her labia before entering her to the knuckle. The mattress dipped and shifted, and then there was a rhythmic rocking. Nora imagined him pumping his fist over his cock, looking her right in the eye as he jerked himself off. Nora clenched around his fingers greedily. Maybe he would cum on her breasts, maybe her stomach or her thighs or—his hands withdrew from her sex and she whined loudly.

“John,” she moaned “Plea-“ she gasped as he groaned loudly. She felt his ejaculate spatter over her breasts and her stomach. She felt his pleasure on her skin, leaving warm moist trails as it slid along the contours of her body. The sensation alone had her hips lifting off of the bed, her jaw nearly coming unhinged. Hancock’s hands began to rub at her breasts, slow and purposeful.

“You like that?” he growled into her ear, “You’re covered in me, sweetheart.”

She sighed in agreement, lifting her body to press into his roaming hands.

“Do you see everything that you been missing? You could have enjoyed all of this, Nora – and it’s nothing. This has been,” he chuckled. “This has been quite tame.” His fingers rolled her nipples. Nora’s body, already so turned to pleasure, writhed and lifted into his hands. When he was finished rubbing his seed into her skin, his fingers smoothed over her sex, swirling around her clit.

“John,” she moaned.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was a pleased purr.

“I want you so bad,” she murmured. “Please.”

Hancock moaned into her ear, low and ragged. “You’re so sexy when you beg for me.” He shifted on the bed, the mattress shaking and moving under him as he got situated. His hands slid up along her thighs. “Here I come, doll…”

His rough hands wrapped her legs around his small waist, his palms moving smoothly over her skin. She felt his erection brush against her opening and Nora was trembling all over again, arching and wiggling her hips. Nora expected Hancock to pound into her vagina and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight, but when Hancock slipped inside of her it was nice and slow, a gentle roll of his hips. Hancock’s body slowly stretched on top of hers, hands sliding up along her ribs and palming her breasts. Then his hand cupped her neck before he was bracing himself above her. Hancock’s thrusts were deep and slow. It wasn’t the harsh fucking that she wanted, but the tenderness he exhibited made tears gather in her eyes. Nora sighed softly, thrusting her hips to meet his slow and steady. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to look into his eyes…

And as if he had read her mind, the sash was tugged from her face. Their eyes immediately met. Nora’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that look – she had seen it every day for several years. Hancock was looking at her like she was his world. This wasn’t just sex. Hancock was loving her, and she so desperately wanted to hold him as he did.

“John, let me hold you.” She tugged at her wrists, the chain rattling against the bed frame. Hancock reached above her, tugging at one of the cuffs. There was a click and one of the cuffs fell from her wrist. In a flash she had her arms around him, the cuffs dangling from her left wrist as she clutched at his back. She pulled him close for a kiss. Hancock moaned into her mouth, his pace faltering just slightly.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, Nora,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’ve wanted you so bad.” He thrust into her once more and then stilled as he placed all of his focus on kissing her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, curling around hers and thrusting slowly. Nora cupped the back of his head, kissing him until her lungs burned for air. She tilted her head back, gasping.

“You’ve wanted me?”

“More than anything,” he rasped. “I wasn’t going to say anything but,” he spoke softly, still buried deep inside of her. “If this continues after tonight, I’m not letting you go, Nora. I can’t.”

“And tonight?”

“If you want tonight - just tonight,” he began to rock his hips again, picking that slow rhythm he had started with. “Then I guess I will have to make the most of my time.”

It was her decision again. He was letting her decide on what they were doing with their relationship. It was her decision for them to be together tonight, and he was leaving it up to her on where they would be going with their relationship after. Hancock pushed his feelings to the side and left it up to her. Nora’s legs tightened around his hips. She brought him in close and kissed him. There were no more words exchanged, just heavy breathing and ragged moaning. Nora climaxed looking into his eyes, their forehead nearly touching as they exchanged heavy gasps of air. Hancock came, buried to the hilt inside of her, kissing her like she was a lifeline.

When they were finished, gasping and sated, they lay in bed together. Nora was curled into his side, tracing his fingers over a particularly nasty scar on Hancock’s abdomen. Her head was on his chest, and she was warm and comfortable.

“So?” he murmured quietly.

“It was incredible,” she murmured, blushing slightly. “I didn’t think that I would ever enjoy it nearly as much as I did.”

There was a low chuckle, his fingers dipping into the ends of her hair.

“Well, I aim to please.” He murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. He suddenly sighed, and then began to sit up. Nora gripped his body, keeping him in bed.

“John, if you think you are going to rob me of post coital cuddling then you’re out of your mind.”

“Baby,” he said, smiling softly. “I’m about to fall asleep.”

Nora leaned over the bed, reaching for the lantern that was still burning. She snuffed the light, then returned to his side, pulling the blanket over the both of them.

“Then fall asleep.”

“Nora…”

She tilted her head back, kissing his jaw. “John, close your eyes.” Eventually, his body relaxed into the bed, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in an warm embrace. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Doll…”

Nora woke before Hancock, as she usually did. She was still curled against him, his arm wrapped around her. For several minutes she simply rested beside him, warm and comfortable. She mulled over the night before, thinking over what he had said. If they continued with whatever it was that they had started, then he wouldn't let her go. Slowly, her eyes drifted up to his face. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful and comfortable. Nora watched him for a moment. She trusted this man, in every way that there was to be trusted and she loved him; she would readily give her life for his. Nora could very easily see herself with him, could see herself loving him far more than she already did.

But only on one condition…

Nora was quick about securing him to the bed. She cuffed his hands to the bed frame just as he had done with her the night before, using the same handcuffs that he did. His ankles were secured with nylon rope, keeping his legs straight and spread. She used the remains of her shredded t-shirt as the blindfold, carefully wrapping the material over his closed eyes. By the time she was finished she was giddy with anticipation, and she was wet. The idea of being in control was tantalizing.

Nora tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned down low. Her mouth hovered over his groin. Shooting a glance towards his obscured face, she exhaled softly, brushing her lips over the head of his penis. His flaccid member twitched to life, instantly growing firm and erect. Nora watched, mesmerized as his organ hardened, all with a gentle caress of her lips. Slowly, hesitantly, she caressed the end of his penis with her tongue, and when he shifted his hips up in just the slightest of movement, she wrapped her lips around him and suckled.

A moan tore through Hancock’s throat and his whole body jerked, the cuffs clanked, the ropes strained audibly. Nora grinned, swirling her tongue around his cock before she leaned back, licking her lips.

“Good morning.”

“N-Nora?”

“You said that if we did anything past last night that you wouldn’t let me go,” she murmured, then grazed her teeth against his hip. Her hair brushed over his stomach, his erection, his thighs. “But there is something that you should keep in mind, John,” she moved, dragging her hair along his skin, he exhaled his breathing erratic. “I don’t share. At all.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His voice was harsh with sleep but it was also low and husky. Nora traced her tongue along the column of engorged muscle. His legs strained against his bonds.

“I’m saying,” she dragged her teeth under the head of his penis, experimenting with her new found power. “That I will be yours, if you will be mine.”

“Yes,” he said immediately, his hips lifting from the bed as he tugged at his wrists. “C’mere, baby. Let me kiss you.”

Nora straddled him, her body caging him as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his mouth. Hancock lifted his head from the bed, trying to take control of the kiss – and Nora let him. His tongue curled around hers, kissing her slowly. Nora lowered her hips until she could rub herself against him. She was already slick and ready, so she pressed herself against him, grinding her pussy over his girth. When John released a harsh, ragged moan against her lips, Nora broke the kiss, as well as the contact their lower bodies shared.

“You little minx,” he purred, allowing himself to relax back into the bed.

“I’m experimenting,” she chuckled. “I’ve never been on top before.”

The cuffs clanked against the bed frame. “Let me go and I can teach you.”

“I rather like you tied up in my bed, John,” she said, completely unable to contain the smile that nearly split her face. Nora lowered herself against him, her sex grinding against his penis as she sighed softly into his ear. Just as Hancock thrust upwards against her, she was off of the bed, circling him slowly. The cement floor left her footfalls soundless. She felt like a predator. She felt in control and she felt sexy.

“Baby, c’mere. Ride me.”

Nora sighed, closing her eyes. That sounded delicious. She suddenly leaned down and nipped at his neck, then laved the space with her tongue to soothe the sting. Hancock tipped his head away from her, giving her more access. Nora kissed at his skin, suckled and nipped and licked… and then she stepped back. Dammit, she wanted to fuck him. She wanted to fuck him so bad. She would, but not yet. Not quite yet. Nora got back onto the bed, straddling his stomach. Her fingers dipped down to her vagina. She thumbed her clit, and slipped to fingers inside of herself. Nora rocked her hips so he could feel the movement of her body. She swallowed back any nervousness that she felt, licking her lips.

“A-are you… Fuck, Nora, are you –“

“I am…”

“Well shit, Sweetheart, can I at least watch?”

Nora chuckled, “No, I don’t think so.”

Nora stopped just before she came, her toes curling and her vagina practically dripping her pleasure onto his stomach. Her eyes flickered to his mouth and she reached out, fingers glistening as she traced his lower lip. Hancock’s tongue shot out, finding her finger, curling and lapping at the digit. Nora closed her eyes, she wanted his mouth back at her sex. She wanted his tongue on her clit and even though she had the option to sit on his face, she didn’t quite have the guts for that. Not yet.

She did, however, have the nerve to slip back, to move her knees between his legs.

“I want to suck on you,” she murmured.

“You don’t even have to ask m—“ His voice cut off abruptly when she wrapped her lips around the head of his penis and sucked, her tongue swirling around him. She bobbed her head slowly, taking more of him into her mouth. He brushed the back of her throat, and the sound that came from his throat made her shiver. “C’mon, Nora, you can take it. A little deeper, honey.”

Nora tried, a little deeper and her gag reflex had her yanking back as her muscles in her throat worked uncomfortably.

“Relax your throat,” Hancock said, voice ragged.

She licked her lips, before she had him back in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down, sucking as she worked him back towards her throat. His hips lifted off of the bed, rocking upwards as she bobbed down. Nora was able to relax her throat, and Hancock moaned, his hips thrusting upwards sharply.

“Nora,” he rumbled, the handcuffs clanking loudly. “I don’t know if you- Nora, no… Nora.” His voice was weak as she pulled her mouth from him completely. She exhaled, her breath fanning over his wet skin before she sat up. “Fuck, Nora."

Nora chuckled, licking her lips. She moved to straddle him. Once he was inside of her she sank to the base. She murmured his name, her eyes closed tight. He felt so big, and he was in her so deep that she could feel him at her cervix. She began to rock slowly, testing the motion of her hips. She lifted herself with her knees, then slowly sank back against him, her head rolling back.

“Let me see you, Nora,” he murmured. “Take the blindfold off.”

Still impaled on his length, Nora leaned forward, pressing her breasts to his chest as she lowered her mouth to his ear.

“No.”

The sound that he released sounded similar to that of a rabid dog. His arms strained against the handcuffs. She sat up, resuming her hesitant rhythm, rocking slowly for several minutes. When Hancock’s breath went ragged, when his hips snapped up into hers she lifted herself off of him. As much as she liked being in control, as much as she liked seeing him struggle to touch her, she liked him being in control more. She would drag this out a little longer, though. She would deny him for as long as she could.

“Nora, please…” That voice, usually so gravely and firm, was reduced to a rasping yearning sound. She mounted him again, but this time she barely took the tip of him inside of her, teasing him.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Nora…”

“Tell me, John.”

His arms strained against the cuffs again. Just as Nora thought that he was going to pull one of his arms out of its socket, one of the cuffs broke. The locking mechanism snapped open, and he was on her in a flash. He yanked the shirt from his eyes, and then his hands were at her waist, yanking her down on his cock. Nora nearly screamed. Hancock sat up, holding her tightly to him as he thrust upwards against her. Nora whimpered, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her lips found his mouth and she kissed him as she gyrated her hips down against his. Hancock groaned, thrusting into her urgently. He broke the kiss to look up into her eyes, and the intensity in his gaze was staggering.

“Just like this, Nora,” he growled, moving her into his hips as he thrust upwards. “Ride me,” he murmured. Nora bounced on top of his cock, riding him just as she was told. Hancock fell back onto the mattress, hands still gripping her hips as Nora moved in a frantic rhythm. When he pressed his thumb against her clit she saw stars, her eyes wide as she hit her climax so abruptly. Her pace faltered and she went completely still as she clenched around him, squeezing and gripping and pulsating. He came shortly after, pulling her flush against him as he emptied himself inside of her.

When they were finished, after Nora untied his legs as they were resting in the bed, he kissed her lips, grinning dazedly.

“You’re incredible,” he said quietly.

Nora smiled, “I have a good teacher.”

[trekmupf]

a.k.a. Kirks evil twin needs a hug

Pro:

The Dog alien, iconic, beautiful

I know it was done to easily differenciate the two Kirks, but Kirks eyeliner slays

Bones everyday doctoring. Look I know in fic and memes people often say his bedside manner sucks, and with his friends it does yes because they're his friends and they're idiots, but his general doctor scenes are lovely

Kirk manhandling McCoy and McCoy sending Spock after him later

The way Kirk assures and takes care of Sulu / the landing party show more of his good qualities as a leader to his crew

Spocks heritage being talked about for the first time, interesting early ideas about him being stuck between both sides

The invention of the vulcan nerve pinch!

First proper „He's dead, Jim“ by McCoy!

Kirks halfs literally having to accept each other in a way in the end and hugging

Classic transporter malfunction

I like that they call evil Kirk the imposter - even though it's part of him everyone knows that he would never behave this way and that the "good" Kirk is closer to his real self

the general idea of splitting a person into opposing halves, even though the exact philosophy is muddled when analyzed deeper (yes, the message is a human being needs the good and bad, but – see cons)

Spocks speech about command underlines the kind of pressure Kirk is constantly under due to his position (something he handles well usually, and it gets adressed a few times thoughout tos)

Generally the dynamic between the trio and how trust works between them, especially in the transporter room in the end

love a classic „who is the real one“ duplicate situation

Con:

The entire violent scene between the imposter and Yeoman Rand is horrific and I personally find it to be longer than necessary to get the point across

also the way they treat her is too shitty for words. Even considering the production time it's bad, and I dislike all the scenes heavily

we're not gonna talk about Spock's last line. OOC. He would never.

The last third feels a bit streched

As said above, the split itself is very muddied philosophically and politically – I'd say is less good / evil and more base urges & survival instinct / higher developement, intelligence, which would make more sense as you do need both to function and one to control the other. Otherwise the message is you need „evil“ to function and thats just. No good.

also like. "sensitive" kirk does make decisions at the end and is also the brave one? it kinda undermines what they're trying to say

also the way it's presented goes a bit into the toxic masculinity philosophy that only a forceful / aggressive man can make proper decisions, when we know that's not at all true in Kirk (or the other men)

Sulu is us at @ every dog we encounter

Counter:

Kirk being shirtless (and posing in front of Spock with his little towel)

Transporter malfunction

A LOT of Kirk / Shatner Memes stem from this episode

Also the dog-alien is its own meme

Quote: "You're the captain of this ship. You haven't the right to be vulnerable in the eyes of the crew. You can't afford the luxury of being anything less than perfect. If you do, they lose faith and you lose command" - Spock

Moment: Kirk getting ready to beam down the reunite with himself and the almost silent conversations with his friends Summary: Interesting episode that raises a few questions about what makes a person who they are but can't fully answer them while giving further insight into the trios relationships as well as Kirks personality - beware the assault and treatment of the female character afterwards though.

Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

[monocle-teacup]

On Writing Mandroid

So an actual in depth explanation about this meme I made summing up my feelings when looking at most fanfics Mandroid is in. When I read fanfics for any piece of media, I want the characters to be IN CHARACTER. Yes, I understand the concept of headcanons, but it's another thing to blatantly ignore the character's actual behavior/mindset unless there's an AU involved where you specifically want it to be a different take. "Just don't read it then!" some of you may say. Trust me, as soon as Mandroid starts acting OOC, I immediately abandon the fic. I just want to address common misconceptions about his character.

The main things I see pop up in fics that make no damn sense for Mandroid are:

-Him acting like a pervert just because he uses mind control and the tentacle draining device

-Him attacking/targeting random humans

-His speech patterns

There's NOTHING in the show that indicates he'd act like #1. He's a scientist specializing in robotics that wants to rid the world of Transformers aka machines that run on fuel. If anything, he'd find the idea that TFs are capable of sex interesting in a "I just discovered the beings I'm studying have this attribute" kind of way. He views them as monsters and machine parts so the idea of him having his way with one makes no damn sense not even with the intent of torturing/dominating. He prefers making them suffer in other ways like taking them apart while they're still functioning.

As for #2: Mandroid only targets humans that interfere with his plans or treat him like shit (which Croft found out the hard way). He didn't have a problem with Dot until she fucked with the laser while he was removing Megatron's arm. He also ignored the Maltos in Prime Time until Mo got up in his face. Yet, I see the same thing multiple times where a fanfic author has him kidnap/target a random person that didn't do anything. His mindset/viewpoint on how he interacts with other humans is summed up in this line in Age of Evolution:

"If you Maltos side with my Cybertronian enemies, then I'll destroy you like my enemies."

So he's not an asshole 24/7.

As for #3, this is a huge one. Mandroid has a sophisticated way of speaking with the occasional pun thrown in when he's doing something villainous. I could post multiple examples from fics I've read where if I didn't know it was Mandroid speaking I'd have no idea it was him. This man isn't going to talk like a thug or casually swear. The most I can see him swearing is using 'hell' or 'damn'. That obviously falls into headcanon territory, but it's in line with what the show has given us.

Just listen to the way Mandroid speaks in this scene from the very 1st episode of the series:

Look at his mannerisms as well. For the most part, he's calm and reserved until the Mandroid bit. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that he's the kuudere personality type.

Thankfully, I've also read fics where the author nails his characterization but those seem to be few and far in between.

[rise-my-angel]

People say Kit is a bad actor? Do they know that isn't even his real accent?!

Its primarily book purists who take issue with the show adaptation of Jon Snow, and their hangups with the differences in versions of the character end up getting blamed on Kit.

He gets called a bad actor because he isn't playing the character exactly as the book states, when in reality that's not how adaptation works. Show Jon is a lot more quiet and stoic but it really works specifically because of Kit. He's not the sass machine that is book Jon but it didn't need to be.

Kit brings so much life and individuality to Jon Snow, but because he is playing a very stoic character his subtle acting gets over looked for others, and book purists blame him for character attributes that are the writers fault not his.

The only time I'd say he isn't really trying is season 7. Kit is practically asleep during season 7 but I do not blame him. His character was being primed as an intelligent, brave and valiant heroic King, and he is side lined very hard and written so out of character it seems Kit really struggled knowing what to do. Hes trying to play the Jon Snow he has developed but they're asking him to play a version of Jon that never existed before that season, and it shows the whole season he has no idea what direction he should be taking his character in. He finds a bit more stride in season 8 because hes used to being given such bad material at that point but season 7 Kit is just a walking meme because hes clearly so fucking fed up with how bad the script is and doesn't bother hiding it. He sends up playing into it like "Okay I'm 900% done with this bullshit and so is Jon so there's my motivation". Which is why we get so many fucking funny facial expressions from Jon that season because both the character and actor are trapped in the dumbest plot with the dumbest people.

Also speaking of the accent, if you want more proof hes really talented at acting, watch scenes of he and Benjen. Or a Jon scene then a Benjen scene. Because Jon and Benjen literally speak exactly the same, they both have the exact same speech mannerisms to really sell their familial relationship and that's not how either actor talks in real life. Its really impressive.

But yeah, since the show ended people sort of take their hangups with Jon's character assasination out on Kit Harington and it's really unfair. He stuck the show out until the end but a character that had been such a massive part of his life was being ruined before his eyes and that clearly took a lot of heart out if his performance and I don't blame him for that.

Because season 1 through 6, Kits acting is absolutely spectacular and severely underrated.

[tvheadkafka]

My love language : info dumping, parallel play(just existing in the same space as you without you intervening my data as a third party) , support swapping(let me read it for you let me find it for you let me cook for you let me make this presentation for you let me teach you) , penguin pebbling(this cat meme is you this song reminded me of you this flower gives a you vibe i found this heart shaped potato chip so i stopped my binge eating to show it to you) , copying your mannerism and speech style and make it my own also learn your slangs also letting you hug me.

[kindheart525]

Now for the long-awaited Glep x Marge horde! Ever since I first started working on this next gen as a serious project, I knew these two would have a whole horde of kids because of how madly in love I think they are. Glep has that raw bad boy edge and Marge is smoking hot so of course they have a big family to prove how much time they’ve spent loving each other if you catch my drift. They may have seven whole kids, but they’re just as youthful and energized as ever, which is far more than what can be said about Pim and his four kids. To outsiders, Glep looks like he’s fooling around on an iPad all day, but he’s somehow managing to give each of his kids proper attention AND keep Marge relaxed and satisfied. He’s got to be warping time itself to do all of that because I don’t know how you can have time for a full-time job AND seven kids AND a stable marriage without it wearing on you. Who knows how Glep does it.

As for the kids themselves, from right to left we have:

Blep inherited her mom’s supermodel looks but has an aesthetic all her own, going for a goth look that makes her look almost otherworldly combined with her unnaturally green skin. This combined with her speaking exclusively in her dad’s Wingon tongue leads people to make a lot of assumptions about her, that she’s weird or even scary, but the truth is that she’s very nice and sociable. She sometimes joins Kip and Dottie as a third to their trio, as aside from their common interests, both girls can relate to having assumptions made about them based on their looks.

Suzy, to many, looks like a hairball sliding around on the ground, but she would feel utterly insulted if you described her that way. She has her dad’s body and her mom’s luscious locks, though most don’t know where the hair ends and body begins. Despite her face being completely concealed, she’s so eloquent in her speech and mannerisms that you could completely forget that she’s basically a pile of hair as you become entranced in a conversation with her. She’s a classy lady and every unusual part of her only adds to her allure.

Gola is a model at some high-end agency, with an unbreakable confidence and an insatiable need to make sure the whole world knows how sharp her style is. She is quite sassy but can also be kind of dumb, arguing until she’s blue in the face to defend a claim that is flat out wrong just so she can have the satisfaction of being right. She’s also picked up a lot of her speech patterns from her dad’s friend Allan, so catch her comically mispronouncing a lot of words as well.

Chad is a pretty normal guy. As engaged in meme culture as any of his generation and especially as a child of the tech savvy Glep, so sometimes the family will be hit with a “skill issue” or “had to do it to em.” He likes to act like he doesn’t care what people think of him and will often lounge around in socks and sandals when not cosplaying as a meme. Sarcasm and jokes get a good laugh out of him but not when they’re at his expense, like when his siblings compare him to Stuart Little because of his abnormally short, less-than-two-foot stature. 

Giorno is a total gym rat, who cannot get through a single day without going through his elaborate full-body routine. He lives off of whey smoothies and many speculate lots of steroids, but he won’t confirm or deny that. School and work hardly matter to him as long as there’s gym. Workout stuff aside he has a sharp sense of humor and can engage in some good witty banter, especially with his best friend, favorite workout buddy, and love interest, Ell Pimling.

Eep, in contrast to her more eloquent and self-assured twin Suzy, is a shy little thing whose personality is as small as her stature. She is super sweet and loving with the people and critters she trusts most, and almost everyone she meets finds her very likable. This agreeability is something she finds joy in, but she has a hard time speaking up for herself when she wants something or disagrees. Her “speaking” sounds more like a squeaky dog toy than actual speech, but just like everyone can understand Glep’s Wingon tongue, she is perfectly clear to everyone when she does express herself.

Glorp is the least imposing critter you will ever meet. He is practically a background character. Every time he opens his mouth one of his siblings, parents, or peers starts speaking, so nobody knows what his voice sounds like or what his personality is. He doesn’t put up any fuss as he walks or slithers around with his noodly body, so everyone assumes he is perfectly content with the way things are. Nobody has asked him but he would probably agree based on his facial expression. 

[taihua]

Very interested to know what made it seem like Feng Xin didn’t love the present Jian Lan. He couldn’t seem to let her go. Though I do agree that Jian Lan has completely moved on

I agree that he didn't want to let her go, but I don't think it's because he still loved her--to me, it's pretty clearly about his sense of guilt that he wasn't there to take care of her.

There's also the fact that he didn't recognize her the first time he saw her, and even when she's without her heavy makeup, he's still not exactly... idk. Kind?

But words got stuck in his throat, because before when Jian Lan was Lan Chang and covered herself in heavy makeup, looking like a wench, he really didn’t recognize her. It couldn’t be helped. Feng Xin still looked exactly the same as he did once upon a time, but Jian Lan’s transformation truly was too great. Looks, makeup, manners, speech, class…even if her blood parents were to stand before her they might not recognize their precious daughter. Feng Xin was astonished. “…It’s you. It really is you. It has to be you! …I thought you married, and were living well. How did you…how did you become this way…” (Chapter 141)

It's reminiscent of the way he refused to let Xie Lian do certain jobs in Book 4 because he thought it wasn't suitable for someone of his status; while I think it's going too far to say that he's classist, I do think that he expects a certain standard from the people close to him. Also evidenced by the fact that his relationship with Jian Lan involved him wanting to get her out of the brothel. Even then, he wasn't willing to meet her where she was and accept what had happened to her, which I think paints their love story in a different light.

In Feng Xin's words: “But I was never annoyed with you! I wanted to redeem you!” (Chapter 214)

He's the "I can fix her" meme. Which wouldn't even be so bad if it wasn't contrasted against Hua Cheng loving the worst parts of Xie Lian and still accepting him. Feng Xin doesn't do that with Jian Lan, so his love feels contingent on her changing.

Which is incidentally how he feels about Cuocuo, too:

“Can you really take him for your own son?” “As long as it can return to the right path, how can I not?”

Once again, it's conditional. He doesn't accept Cuocuo unless he can become something else.

Also in Chapter 214, you have Jian Lan berating him for not fulfilling his duties as a father: "

“How? Isn’t it because of you?! ‘It’s the father’s fault for only raising without educating’ , if it wasn’t for you slacking off on your duty as the father, would your own son have been dug out from his mother’s womb to be made into something like this?"

I always like this line because it shows they're both meant to be educated enough to understand Confucian ideals, and even as far as she's fallen, Jian Lan still throws this back at him. So when Feng Xin asks her to stay, he doesn't even mention loving her--he only mentions feeling obligated:

“Come…come back,” Feng Xin begged, “I’m still…sigh, I still feel I, I…I want to take care of both of you. I should take care of both of you. I have a duty, I’ve promised you.”

Notice the hesitations, too. He's stuttering worse than Mu Qing and "f-f-friends" here, which casts the "I want to take care of both of you" under some serious doubt, imo.

And besides all that, I think it's just the fact that he doesn't seem happy to see her at any point! His behavior around her is anxious and stressed. When she leaves him in his palace, he's emotionally drained. He's the type to laugh out loud at jokes and sing when he's happy, but she just leaves him feeling anxious and depressed--which is partly because of what happened to her, but I also don't see any evidence that he's excited to see the love of his life again.

[sociopathichero]

FIRST MEETINGS MEME A meme for first meetings and introduction threads, aka a ‘What you will notice about my muse first’ cheat sheet. Repost, don’t reblog. Bold what applies. Fill in details.

tagged by: Saw it somewhere and stole it. tagging: Anyone who wants to do it! <3

blank meme: x

GENERAL

Gender: Masculine. Feminine. Androgynous.

Race: White (Russian)

Complexion: Fair and pretty pale.

Height: 183 cm/6'0’’

Body Type: Endomorph. Mesomorph. Ectomorph. Other / More Details: —

Body Build: Small. Medium. Athletic. Muscular. Soft. Curvy. Voluptuous. Other / More Details: He is very average: not under- or overweight, not lanky or stout. His muscles aren't particularly defined/visible but they're definitely there.

Body Hair: None. Shaves/Waxes. Trims/Grooms. Untamed. Color: Dark. Notes: He's always clean-shaven, otherwise things are untamed. He isn't very hairy, though. Apart from the obvious (legs, arms, underarms, and crotch area) he only has a little patch of hair on his chest and a neat lil' snail trail.

Head Hair: None. Buzzed. Short. Medium. Long. Very Long. Asymmetrical Cut. Color: Dark brown Style: Short and same length throughout (so no buzzed sides etc.)

Eye color: Light blue Details: —

Scars: A fingertip-sized scarred cut on his left cheek from a fistfight, a thin, vertical scar going over the middle of his right eyebrow from a different fistfight, two small, adjacent circular scars on his right side just below his ribs from getting shot, and a jagged scar on his right sole from slicing his foot on a sharp rock when out fishing with his brother as a kid.

FASHION

Fashion Style: Vintage. Traditional. Casual. Artsy. Vibrant. Geeky/Nerdy. Tomboy. Sporty. Trendy. Preppy. Girly. Bohemian. Elegant. Formal. Grunge. Punk. Rocker. Gothic. Other: His style (if you can call it a style) is pretty neutral and more on the practical side.

Color Palette: Neutral colors like blacks, whites, beiges, grays, and navy blues.

Typical Clothing: Jeans, always jeans. Depending on if he's going for comfort or for a bit neater look, he either wears his beloved oversized sweater or more regular-looking sweatshirts and sweaters. There's a 95% chance he's wearing a T-shirt underneath and a 90% chance it's a black one. Coat is either a windbreaker or a neat, black wool overcoat. He also often wears combat boots.

Tattoos: None

Other Information: —

EXPRESSION

General Facial Expression: He has a very neutral general expression. He doesn't try to rein in his expressions though, so you can clearly tell when he's angry or happy. He smiles pretty easily, actually.

Default Body Language: He has a relaxed posture and often has his hands in his (coat) pockets. Other than that, his gestures are quite minimal.

General Movements: Unhurried and deliberate.

NOTABLE FOR RP

Presence: Very calm and unpretentious. His presence doesn't really draw attention (at least not until he has a gun in his hand). 

Appearance: Tidy, if not the most fashionable.

Scent: Cigarettes, plus some random shampoo and some random deodorant (he doesn't have any favorite brands).

Voice Description: His voice is fairly deep (example). At times it drops a bit lower, like when he's going for a more authoritative tone.

Accent: yes / no More information: Very thick Russian accent.

Speech Mannerisms: He only rarely curses. His speech is calm and measured, and he doesn't rush his words. He uses simple language when speaking in English, it being his second language and all.

Anything else to add? —

[runby2]

HEYHEY I haven't caught up with this blog in a while!! It's good to see you guys again!!

For the system ask meme, can I do ☕ and 👻?

hello!!! it's good to see you again! <3

answered by 🐈 honey!

☕️ - what is switching like for you?

switching is a very complicated thing, and it can happen differently each time! Sometimes an alter will force their way past me when I didn't even know they were there, and it will feel like I'm being possessed or something. Sometimes I feel like I fade away. Sometimes I get mannerisms of the other alter before they fully wash over me like a different color, and I black out memory wise. Sometimes we can work together sharing the brain and I can see them controlling me and letting me add in my own thoughts. Sometimes I feel like I become them, and blurring is a little uncomfortable. I don't feel like me, but I am me! It's wild, but we cope with however it happens!

👻 - do your alters/headmates have different voices or speech patterns?

yes! i actually caught three instances on accident!

here's angel's voice in one of our youtube videos!

here's sunny's voice

here's my voice! (trying to do a marge simpson impression)

kristoph's voice is in a video we can't share, but his voice is deep and kind of smooth. He sounds sarcastic the majority of the time but in a teacher kind of way. Like he's asking you to push back.

apollo's voice my partners have referred to as 'stern' and confident, but not too deep. His voice cracks sometimes when he's yelling about anything.

Klavier's voice is deeper than apollos, and he carries a slight german accent, and apparently knows a good amount of proper german despite us not even being from germany or ever learning german.