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lightfeltmemories · 5 months

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episode one: phantom troupe and romance; headcanons from least toxic, to most toxic

characters include: chrollo, machi, pakunoda, shizuku, uvogin, shalnark, feitan, phinks, bonolenov, kortopi, hisoka, illumi, nobunaga, franklin. (not in order)

tw's: nsfw but nothing explicit, mentions of non-con, spoilers for the deaths of pakunoda, shalnark, kortopi and uvogin, toxic relationships, lovebombing, mentions of torture (not on reader), mentions of cheating, mentions of reader's death,

notes: a completely self indulgent post, you can probably tell who im biased towards by how long certain sections are.

because this contains mentions of nsfw, do not interact if you are under 18, you will be blocked if you do !! also, do not leave negative comments please, they will be deleted :)

pakunoda

out of everyone, guaranteed, she'll be the best partner out of everyone else, you might even end up shocked that she's apart of the troupe if it ever comes to you finding out.

she's a darling, spoils and cares for you like anyone else, a great listener and partakes in your interests in hobbies, its (almost) like a fairytale by how the relationship is, the troupe knows you but you don't know them! and she wants to keep it that way, of course still she's a murderer, so it would break her if you were to have found out about everything, she vowed to never let you know or even have you close to knowing about what she does, but you just can't help but wonder what she's doing when she's away for long periods of time.

until it comes to her death.

now, you eventually find out that she died from a close friend of hers, but he knows paku doesn't want you to know about the troupe, so, he's a bit vague, and a bit creepy.

nobunaga

personally out of everyone else, i feel like nobunaga would be other most normal when it comes to relationships, but then again, he's an enigma, he doesn't strike me as the type to be the best boyfriend literally ever or very very toxic, i feel like out of everyone else, if you're looking for someone to be in a semi normal relationship with, nobunaga is your best shot, but of course, he's a part of the phantom troupe, and any member apart of it isn't exactly the best partner by default.

he's still a murder and thief, like all members i believe that he would definitely steal things that remind him of you, he'd most definitely kill for you.

unlike someone like feitan or machi, he doesn't exactly have a problem with being vulnerable when you get to know him, he'll tell you about himself, and of course, because he's a criminal he can't exactly tell you what he does for a living, but can't bring himself to lie about it either, he's just hoping that one day, if you know, you won't leave or judge him for it, his childhood isn't exactly all sunshines and lolipops, y'know?

he'll love you from the ends of the earth, but he definitely won't let you walk all over him, quick to put your in your place and won't allow you to manipulate him, he won't lie to you (about trivial things, at least) so why should you? (who knows, maybe you're apart of a criminal organization and is pretty much a wanted criminal yourself :P)

bonolenov

similar to nobunaga i think if you want something that's somewhat normal, bonolenov is also a nice choice! (100% not putting him up so high because we don't really know that much about him it's totally because he would be a decent partner! honest!)

for one, you would definitely be introduced to usual romantic gestures and advances that come from his tribe, he'll tell you all about how things work with him, he'll do dances he learned when they were still here for you to show how much he adores you, and dresses you in garments that resemble such from his tribe, it's pretty cute, honestly!

now, what concerns him a bit is.. how you'll react without his bandages, he's not exactly sexy like chrollo but (to me, TO MEEEEEE) he's not the ugliest thing in the world! he just hopes that eventually if you see him in his true form, you don't scream and run away at the sight of him, its okay if you do! ..... kind of.

and if you don't, oh you'll mean so much to him!

kortopi

now, here's another one we don't know much about! but i'll try my best either way (i just want to contribute to the lack of attention him and bono get in these spaces.) he's another somewhat normal one, he also doesn't strike me as the type to be the absolute worst, but still is apart of a troupe of murderers and thieves.

similar to everyone else, he'll steal and kill for you (idk if this guy even has a body count but lets pretend he does.) and is a lot more open to being vulnerable than some other members.

now, nine times out of ten you'll be taller than him because this guy is even shorter than feitan, so, he'll definitely be wearing your t-shirts and hoodies, and he ain't complaining about it!

and eventually, he dies, now, honestly, something told you that kortopi seemed... like the odd one out when it came to the troupe, he doesn't seem like the type to be apart of... that! you better hope that hisoka doesn't care about you, or things are gonna turn ugly faster than you can blink.

uvogin

he's big (as hell), but he's sweeter (you know why they're in bold italics) than the others twice his size.

physically the strongest, you're rather lucky to have him has your partner, if someone won't stop messing with you, they're dead within a millisecond, or at least scared off since you know.. he isn't exactly built like the average guy and having someone that's eight foot fucking two walking up on you not really excited to see you is quite terrifying, depending on his mood they'll sometimes get away.... sometimes.

enough of that, how is it like when it's just the two of you? sitting on the couch or laying in bed watching movies together, his arm around you, it's basically a pillow! a hard ass pillow at that.

not the most vulnerable, he's not some weird incel who see's women as sex toys or anything, he's decently capable of being in a normal relationship, you won't see each other often sadly, but when you do, he'll pay 95% of his attention towards you, he'll even let you know straight up that he won't know when he'll get back, but he will! ... until he doesn't..

ah yes, his death at the hands of kurapika, how will you react? hell, how would kurapika react to your existence? something tells me that kurapika might kill you too, send you right off with him, or, in a rather strange twist of events, he might try to fuck you and take you to the other side, not in the way of barging into your house and straight up non con, nah, more like a get to know you then get in your pants type of way, uvo won't be there to protect you now would he? of course the latter is highly unlikely, but to be honest it's kind of fun to think about.

and now that you think of it... you don't even know what uvo was doing or where he was going, you choose how you want to react to how you found out about his troupe business.

shizuku

another woman! she's similar to another person right below her! she looks cute, but she's anything but!...... sort of.

she's not the best or worst partner, she's pretty normal, a bit distant but it's not something you can't manage, maybe she just needs some space and you're overwhelming her, but something that really gets to you is her forgetfulness.

at first, she'll forget things such as your birthday or your anniversary, but going further into the relationship, she becomes less and less forgetful (she might even remember things that you don't even remember.)

what exactly do you guys do together? well, she does try to partake in your interests, and does try to get things you like!

franklin

he's similar to uvo, he's big, he's actually nicer than he appears.

what makes him so low is.. well to be honest i don't know, i don't feel like he could be high up but not so low, so, this is the perfect spot for him.

for one he does have a bit of an anger problem, not as bad as phinks, but he doesn't mind a slight argument, good thing he wont assault you, and is quick to make up for the argument.

i don't know how to write him, so, please forgive me for how small this passage is. :(

shalnark

we're starting to get into uh... strange territory, he looks kind, and seems normal, but he's anything but that, he's not the most toxic but he also isn't the most caring and understanding either, similar to nobunaga he's kind of an enigma.

he's a love bomber and very good at manipulating, definitely takes advantage of his rather cute looks, he'll figure out what you're insecure about and compliment those things specifically, i do think he is capable of loving someone genuinely, but he sometimes does things without realizing that they aren't really normal, maybe he's getting his troupe personality mixed up with the one he has with you.

he does come off as sweet at first, brings you flowers and takes you on some rather expensive dates (an uncanny feeling creeps up on you about how the waiters act, but you don't pay much attention to it.) and sometimes he's more distant and a little bit aloof, you take this as him needing his space.

he's not abusive, but he isn't the absolute best partner, there's definitely better out there.

his death doesn't hit you as hard as the others but it was still devastating, you best hope hisoka doesn't come for you, and if he does, you hope he swiftly kills you, because you really don't want this murder clown to take an interest to you.

phinks

phinks is another one 'that's kind of odd to me, i don't want to judge a book by its cover and say "yeah he's a piece of shit!!" but again, he's a lot better in comparison to anyone below.

he's similar to shalnark in quite a few ways, one, he does things that kind of makes you think he's a bit of an odd ball, he's intimidating to look at and is the second strongest physically in the troupe, so you're lucky to have someone like him if you're looking for protection.

i don't see him as the type to take you out to fancy restaurants and bring you flowers, stuff like that is a bit too sappy for him, he shows other ways like giving you thinks you like or taking you to like carnivals or other fun events.

his main problem is his anger issues, he won't physically harm you especially if you don't use nen, but he's not above arguing with or yelling at you, he doesn't do it often, but he might call you an idiot or a bitch if you take him to that point.

the relationship is somewhat normal besides that.

chrollo

chrollo is weird, some say he's loving, caring, blah blah blah while some might say he's the exact opposite.

for one he is charming, he's a relatively good looking man, he's intelligent, and is looking for someone who's also intelligent.

i feel like chrollo definitely has a type, he likes people who are elegant, he wants someone that'll make him look good while he's in public, he doesn't care much for how people view the relationship outside of that, he also looks for someone with a personality he doesn't want someone who looks good yes, but is boring to be around, someone he can have a deep conversation with and talk about his interests with.

for one, you will not know about the troupe's existence, until he is 100% ready to tell you, which will definitely take a while, but he's confident that the troupe and himself will protect you from anyone who tries to avenge.

now, what makes him so low on this list? well, he's quite manipulative, a gaslighter, too, what do you mean you saw me with another woman? it's all for business, i'm just trying to steal her nen ability.

he does want to be a good partner, but this relationship is kind of a "too good to be true" type, something is happening behind closed doors and the thought is too persistent to ignore.

illumi

this guy is... strange, for one, his beady ass eyes make him look like a bug (affectionately), and section.. his very warped perception of what love even is.

i agree with the fandom that he has a breeding kink no doubt, his intention on dating is marriage, and you will bear his children, no ifs, ands or buts.

you'll meet his family but you'll never meet the troupe, he doesn't want you getting involved in fighting (he might have someone teach you some basic self protection) because he doesn't want you to die, that'll fuck with him... kind of, you're basically trapped in the mansion.

his overprotection is toxic on its own, you don't have that much freedom, you can't go shopping unless he's with you (or if he can't be there, one of his servants will accompany you), you're never truly alone unless he's away, and when he's here, things are no better, he's distant and cold, there's not much to talk about with him, sure, he loves you, but doesn't know how to express it much.

machi

one out of three toxic ass individuals, one of them consists of machi.

lets start off with the fact that she's cold hearted, as hell, if you cry in front of her she'll look at you like you're crazy, if she's really in that mood she'll tell you that you look stupid and you need to suck it up.

not good with physical touch or romance, who knows how the two of you managed to continue the relationship, she does leave flowers for you but won't tell you that they're from her, won't admit that she's the one who got them for you.

i feel like similar to a certain clown, she won't care much for you if you aren't either powerful or capable of protecting yourself in some way.

but all she's really doing is putting up barriers, she's actually caring in her own weird way, she'll still be there for you, patch up your wounds if you managed to get cut or stabbed and would probably mourn your death.

hisoka

were getting lower, and a certain sadist who loves torture is worse, but somehow, hisoka is slightly better than him in some way or another.

for one, hisoka probably won't be that interested in you if you aren't powerful, it would be worse if you were a regular civilian, he'll take that as an opportunity to take advantage of you sexually, physically, psychologically and mentally, and the relationship will be literal hell..

but, lets say you are pretty powerful, dare i say a troupe member yourself, he won't be as interested in fighting you as much as he would chrollo, but he would be interested in... other ways.

how you managed to get into a relationship with this freak is unclear, but you two one day just.. hooked up, and it all goes downhill from here.

he has no problem killing you if he gets tired of you, he already killed two and plans on killing the rest of the spiders, why not kill another? especially you? or, in an alternate scenario where he does manage to kill off all the spider, you're the only one who's left, this can go two ways, one, he can fuck you one last time then kill you, or, he takes you with him! if you managed to have a lasting impression on him, that is.

outside of sex, he just isn't a good partner, he's probably the only one on this list that's probably willing to cheat on you (don't you dare get back at him, both you and your lover will die) he's manipulative as hell, he doesn't necessarily care about how you feel and he'll provoke you just to get a reaction out of you.

feitan

and last but not least, feitan, oh boy, good luck to you for managing to have this man attracted to you. (im a feitan girlie, so this one might be a big longer than the rest)

for one, he'll hate your rotten guts for making him feel this way, for making him feel so weak, so emotional... he might even contemplate on killing you, but when that time comes he can't bring himself to do it.

i don't want to say yandere is his default since he doesn't really know how to properly love, because i do think he has some potential, but it does make sense for him, because there has to be something about you that makes you interested in him, maybe you're his polar opposite? maybe you're also a sadist?

he's not the most romantic partner, he doesn't want to come off as vulnerable, or sappy, so, what considers as a date to him? he's the type to probably take you to a cemetery at night as a form of a date.

he will not allow the troupe to know you or you to know them, for one he's going to be teased from hell and back for finally managing to pull someone and second while it appears that he doesn't care for you much, him protecting you from them is his way of showing you that he cares.

he can't find himself being vulnerable, he might teach you his language if you're up for it, and he might bring you some things he knows you like, but thats kind of it, also he won't force you to see him torture people.. unless you betray him in a way.

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comfortless · 2 months

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so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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spiderlilydreams · 2 months

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MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Penatrative sex, creampie, mentions of blood, rough sex (not too rough though), dirty talk, degrading, and there might be more, but I'm unsure

Feitan Fucking You When The Troupe Can Hear

Maniacal laughter echoed through the halls at the Phantom Troupe hideout. Most of the group were playing cards, as the insane laughter, moaning, and screaming was being heard. They didn't seem to pay much mind, almost like it was usual to them.

“Do you think y/n-chan is going to be alright?” Asked Shalnark, obviously covering up his enjoyment from the sounds with a look of concern.

“That moaning explains everything. If anything, y/n sounds like she is enjoying herself. No worries little Shalnark~” Cooed Hisoka, making Shalnark cringe.

The sounds intensified, and the Troupe could only imagine what was happening between Feitan and you. Little did they know, Feitan was making you moan and scream like that just with two fingers. None of them could have prepared themselves for the sounds that would begin when Feitan was pounding your wet pussy.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughed psychotically, before spitting out aggressively with a thrust, “Filthy whore!” Your pussy sucked him in deeper as Feitan pounded into you with no mercy, making you scream and coat the bed in your arousal over and over. Your vision was blurry, your expression fucked out, your body over stimulated but still cumming all over Feitan’s perfect cock. Feitan just continued to bully your abused cunt, even rubbing fast circles on your clit like he watched you do before. This made you cum again, your pussy gripping his cock as you pulsed desperately around him.

He pressed down on your stomach as he got ready to fill you with his warm thick semen. His other hand was gripping your thigh, which was bleeding from Feitan's sharp fingernails cutting into you. It drove Feitan even more wild, him enjoying you in such an abused, messy state.

He gave no warning, just continued laughing maniacally as he pumped streams of his warm thick cum in you, which coated your abused walls.

Feitan cursed in his native tongue as he came down from his high. It took him what seemed like seconds to be ready for round two. Then you both heard knocking on the door.

“Hey, be careful you two. Having a little Feitan running around seems maddening, we already have one, we don't need another little one around here.” Chrollo said behind the door, smirking to himself.

Feitan did not respond. Instead he lifted your aching legs on his shoulders, and positioned his glistening cock at your sore entrance. He immediately slammed himself back into your destroyed cunt, grunting and smiling like a madman as you clawed at him, screaming.

Chrollo was chuckling on the other side of the door. He appreciated how little Feitan cared about anyone hearing you both.

#feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #feitan x reader smut #feitan porter x reader smut #phantom troupe x reader

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transexuality · 7 months

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i really like the succession battle arc but where is leorio and cheadle : (

#although one of my longest standing critiques is that there is nearly no women #and theres more female characters in this arc #its still mostly male dominated but theres a good chunk of women with important roles!#very excited for morena..#bisky and melody coming back is wonderful for me #and i like theta and the female princes #like kacho and camilla #But where is leorio and cheadle : (#but also this arc is AMAZINGGG and i love that kurapika is dealing with stuff in the higher levels while the phantom troupe is below him #literally under his nose and he has no idea #when they get to the dark continent i want kurapika to kill them all #although hes been using emperor time a lot im scared for him #everything in this arc is so compelling and interesting but yk whatd make it better: leorio & cheadle #OH MY GOD I DIDNT EVEN MENTION OITO IN THE FEMALE CHARACTERS #I LOVE OITO

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gravedigginbbydoll · 8 months

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Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother.

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music.

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage.

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building.

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought.

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly.

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean.

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly.

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night.

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there.

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head.

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching?

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release.

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric.

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight.

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts.

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly.

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel.

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all.

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams.

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more. But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night.

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you.

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions.

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing.

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly.

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern.

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure.

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out.

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows.

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess.

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes.

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern.

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes.

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision.

You were enthralled and scared.

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding.

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently?

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain.

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes.

“Alright.”

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly.

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back.

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure.

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.”

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin.

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement.

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast.

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling.

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts.

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch.

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.”

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin.

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit.

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly.

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his.

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror.

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan.

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close.

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier.

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly.

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off.

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing.

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you.

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled.

“I didn’t mean-”

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy.

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his.

Be careful what you wish for.

THE END?

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

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Yan Phantom Troupe + Hisoka + Illumi / Darling Asking “What Am I To You?”.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, implied violence, not SFW implications for Hisoka because he’s a creep (and a mention of M*lluki in Illumi’s section I’m sorry for your loss) and also for Nobunaga because he’s bleh, Nobunaga threatens to take out your teeth for biting him it's up to you whether or not to believe him, and manipulation.

Word Count: 4.5k. (literally how lmao)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

“Hm…” The sound goes on for much longer than what you would have liked or at the very most could handle without sneering, the crescendo in his voice rising and rising like tulips sprouting from soil. “Hm…”

His tone was barely a whisper at first, but it soon evolved like some hideous, god-forsaken species outcasted to a deserted island or planet. If you did not have your forks and knives taken away for trying to pick and cut off the cuff and chain attached to your ankle, a consequence from last week’s horribly executed escape attempt, you would threaten to stab your eardrums if he didn’t actually answer your question. But part of you thinks that he would only find it funny, and simply hum for twice as long as he has already planned to. Or would he be petty about it, and a second cuff and chain will appear on your ankle along with having your only friend, a silver spoon, taken away? With Chrollo, you do not think you will ever be able to fully tell.

“Please answer me,” You decide on responding with a musical note of your own, a drone. It seems to be the safest option, all things considered. You stare at the soup in front of you instead of at him, playing with the idea of counting the precisely cut vegetables and small rings of pasta. You would have entertained the thought of throwing the boiling bowl at him, but you now know that his speed is beyond what you could ever hope to achieve.

You would never get that far, would you?

You would have to wait until he is gone for the time being to even be able to step on the welcome rug by the door. You managed to convince him to finally buy you hairpins yesterday, and they are safely tucked away in the corner of the table next to your side of the bed, hidden underneath a pile of neatly folded silk pajamas until further notice.

“Well, what do you think you are to me?” He asks, brushing his foot against yours underneath the dining table. It takes everything in you not to move your chair away. That would only make things worse, wouldn’t it? Or would this just further make him see you as an adorable little thing because he knows you would not get that far, not with the cuff and chain on your ankle and the several locks on the door and him here right in front of you?

Again, you cannot tell. When can you ever? Could anyone ever read him, you wonder?

His porcelain dish is already empty, with but a few drops of red broth and a few herbs swirling about. He moves his chair forward and gently grabs your hand, his thumb massaging circles into your palm. You don’t know whether or not to answer his question.

This life is like a torturous game of chess, and you aren’t a player at all. It is up to Chrollo to decide whether or not you are worthy of being a pawn or queen or king, and where you go.

Is this all you will ever be?

His fingers rise to your cheek as he stands up, the touch so light it is hard to decipher the intentions of it. Comfort? Ownership? A statement?

Without thinking, you shut your eyes and lean into it. You coo. You coo like a dove, a baby bird, something so small and fragile in the face of a predator that wants nothing more than to take off its wings so it can never fly away. Perhaps the predator in question is the parent of the chick, never wanting it to leave the nest and explore the big, scary world.

Is this all you ever will be? A helpless, silly little thing stuck way up high with no way down, something cute and small that needs to be protected and cared for because they cannot take care of themselves?

You finally look up at him and he leans in then. He coos back at you, and you want to go back to closing your eyes and trying to stop hearing whatever he will say as a response to your refusal to answer. But you can’t.

So, you think of an answer, something that would make him happy but also not have you speak too long because you don’t want to speak at all. You just want this to be over with, you just want Chrollo to for once respond to your question instead of rebutting with one of his own.

You don’t have a choice, as always.

“Something to possess,” Your voice is soft and hoarse because you never use it aside from when you cry. “Something… someone to keep for your pleasure and your pleasure alone.” He coos again. It is sweet and sticky and latching onto you like thick honey or candy.

“You’re halfway there.” There is an unspoken praise in the air, one so nectarous it’s suffocating and you almost can't breathe. It is like Chrollo’s hands are on your throat, squeezing and squeezing until you pop like a balloon. There is no escape.

He turns and gets his fingers off your face, but the feeling of freedom is quickly taken away by the sound of Chrollo’s footsteps approaching you.

“I suppose I see you as both above and below me at the same time.” He says. You want to run but he’ll catch you in no time before you could even execute the idea.

He is behind you now, grabbing your arms and tugging as your chair squeals and squeaks like a lamb cornered by one who will soon sell its tender meat. You want to scream like one because you too are cornered by someone who will never let you out of here alive.

One of his hands smoothly moves up like you are a violin, lightly pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You just hope there is no encore after this. You hope that in the future there are no such things and that he will just answer your questions and be done with it, but that is so foolish of you, isn’t it?

“You are human and have humanity,” He murmurs, his eyes wider and more intense than you ever had seen them before. “And I would love nothing more than to steal that away.”

Nobunaga

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You recognize the rhetorical nature of the question and choose not to answer. This causes Nobunaga to toy with the thigh-high socks he insisted you wear after returning from another day of thievery.

Every time you tried to express yourself verbally, you were met with a laugh, a gentle touch, an embrace, a peck, or... something far more dreadful than any of those gestures. You preferred to steer clear of that type of affectionate act for as long as you could, even if it meant just a few days. It would be a noteworthy achievement. Of course, Nobunaga's libido would never wane, as he shows no mercy unintentionally to you and intentionally to anyone else in his life.

The way your food is placed on pink plastic plates with little sections of where to put vegetables and where to put a small dessert for a job well done of eating all the food, which is always raw or burnt to a crisp. The pastel frilly clothes you’re forced to wear always show too much skin. The threat to remove most of your teeth if you bite him again. The way he keeps touching your thighs, pinching and groaning and-

Nobunaga never answers your question, resuming to hand-feed you some severely undercooked cookies he baked himself. Well, you scooped the dough at least, and that’s the most you’ll ever do in the kitchen while you are held captive.

Still, raw cookie dough is better than burnt in your opinion.

Just like delusional Nobunaga is much, much better than angry, heartbroken Nobunaga.

Your broken pointer and middle fingers are proof of that.

Feitan

“...”

He blinks; once, twice, thrice… and then you stop counting. It’s pointless anyhow, he is most likely not going to answer your question yet again.

As anticipated, Feitan walks away wordlessly, descending to his basement without a single step on the stairs being audible.

Just as you believe he has vanished, he creeps up from behind, clutching an object in his palms, causing you to nearly shriek. He would find amusement in that if you did. Whenever you engage in any action he deems foolish, he chuckles. It is the closest semblance of happiness you have witnessed from him, his snickering.

“...Here.”

With trembling hands, you accept the concealed object from his grasp.

“...Well?” Feitan asks, raising his eyebrow, his coat hiding what is most likely a smirk of some kind. “Like it?”

Huh? It's... a ring, from a fancy jewelry shop that you had been setting aside money for. This shop happened to be the priciest in the city you grew up in, with all of its items being highly sought after.

“I do.”

Happiness is like the rarest star in the universe to you now, and you will never let it go, now that you have it once again.

“...Glad.”

After a few moments of silence, Feitan is the one who speaks again as you stare at the jewel’s beauty.

“Do you want the finger that came with it?”

(machi, hisoka, phinks, shalnark, franklin, shizuku, pakunoda, bonolenov, uvogin, kortopi, and illumi under cut!)

Machi

Somehow, Machi’s posture becomes even more tense. But it does not stop her from still pouring the pot of instant ramen into your plate, though hers remains empty.

In silence, she puts some edamame, still cold from the fridge, on top, along with some spinach and carrots.

With her bare hand, she pulls out one of the soft-boiled eggs from the bowl of ice water, rolling it on the table until its shell cracks and she takes it off. She then, along with the egg and vegetables, puts some seaweed on top.

When you lean in closer to the utensil drawer, Machi opens it before you can.

She doesn’t ask you which chopsticks you want. She already knows your favorite one by now. The wooden ones with purple handles with white rabbits on them. Hers are plain.

She puts yours in one hand and your food in the other, walking to the kitchen table and putting both down. It’s winter now, and so she makes you drink tea nonstop and thus has a cup of it in front of your chair too.

“…Do you think I hate you?” Her voice, while still cold, has an emotion in it this time; worry. “I don’t, I really don’t. I promise you.” With that, she cracks the other boiled egg and puts it into her empty bowl. “I promise.”

You feel horrible for asking. You just wanted to know. You never know what she is thinking, that is why. But you feel horrible. Now she does too. Both of you, here, in silence, pondering whether or not the other despises you.

“I know, I just… wanted to make sure.” You don’t know if you are lying, and neither does she.

She takes good care of you. But she also ties you up when she has to leave, and one time she had to take out the syringes when you got too aggressive.

So what exactly are you to her?

Hisoka

Hisoka, still standing over your sitting form, puts his right hand on you, squeezing it just barely enough for it to sting.

“Aw, come on [First], lighten up.” If it were possible, with his words Hisoka grows twice as large as he was before he said anything. “I still have lots to teach you.” He chuckles as his long nails, sharp enough to be daggers or a ferocious beast’s teeth you think, dig further into your shoulder. The message is clear. You’ll never be rid of him, as much as you try to.

Even now, when you move to a secluded village on the other side of the country, for just the slightest chance he would leave you alone.

Your basket of berries and herbs is still next to you, a reward for all the foraging you did just before Hisoka showed up again.

“I did your leaf-in-water test already for you.” Just before you ran for the hills, you finally gave into Hisoka essentially begging you to test what kind of Nen user you are, claiming that you were now his pupil. “The water tasted sweet. I’m a Transmuter. That’s what you wanted to know. There is nothing else you can do for me, you know I am no fighter.”

Hisoka nods, and you think that this is it. Maybe he will finally leave you alone and you can go about your life without knowing anything else about Nen. But instead, Hisoka sits next to you on the grass.

He takes a berry from your basket and squeezes it between his fingers before it turns into a sticky mush.

It’s red.

“I know, but there are other things I can indeed teach you, can’t I?”

You don’t want to know what he means, you don’t want to know what he wants to do to you, but before you can stop him he is already on top of you, pushing you behind the bush you were picking rose petals from. You kick and scream at him to let go and cry, but he, as always, is so much stronger than you’ll ever be.

“This will hurt for a bit, but I promise you’ll feel very good, and you’ll want more.”

Phinks

Phinks stops pressing the buttons on the remote and stops reading the little synopsis on each of the shows he was thinking about watching with you, or each of the movies. You were not paying attention, instead looking at your fingers and playing with the dry skin by each nail.

He sets it aside, placing a hand on the back of his head and gently scratching. His gaze falls to the floor, and you follow suit.

He exudes nervousness. This comes as no surprise, as Phinks has always been one to shy away from openly displaying his romantic desires, as odd as it were to you when you were first brought here.

“Uh. Why do you ask? Isn’t… it kinda obvious? Um… you know I’m not exactly cut out for all this sappy bullshit… I… I… Um. Just… just forget it, okay? Just know that I see you as my partner… Wait, oh God, that sounds so bad…”

He keeps stuttering as he tries to explain everything. But, as funny as it would have been if you had known him outside of being your stalker and now current captor, his words only make you feel more hopeless.

Shalnark

He puts down his phone and stands up from his armchair. You’re in your pajamas, the fluffy pastel pink ones, standing in the doorway to Shalnark’s office area, where there are many computers and such on the walls and his large desk.

“Aw!” He murmurs, then gently pinches your cheeks upon approaching. He playfully rubs his nose against yours. Trying to distance yourself, instantly regretting seeking an answer of any sort from him, yet as always, his overpowering strength prevents any escape.

“C-Come on, Shal…” The nickname sometimes works when you ask for some dessert or a game of some kind, so maybe it will work in a situation like this too. “I wanna go to bed.” You nearly whine as he stretches your cheeks out further.

“But I still haven’t answered your question, sweetie!” He exclaims.

“F-Forget it.” You mutter, looking to the side. “It’s fine. Really. Get back to work.”

But he does not let go.

“Let me answer! Hmm… you’re so cute, like a kitten. You sure snuggle against me in bed like one!” Shalnark chuckles, and you can smell a mix of coffee and oranges in his breath. “So maybe… that’s the best analogy for it?” Some mint too. “Something to cuddle with? Something to keep safe.” He boops your nose. “Something too silly and adorable and airheaded to live on their own.”

You’re not sure if his words are supposed to hurt you or cheer you up.

“Yeah, I think something like that works!” After what seems like an endless amount of time, Shalnark releases his grasp on your face. “Just look at you.”

“O-Okay.” You murmur, turning away and attempting to make a beeline for the bedroom, regretting ever opening your mouth. “Sorry for asking. Good night-” Shalnark grabs your arm, making you stop moving before you even start.

“Come on, cutie! Spend some time with me. We can even play Wild World together again!”

He points to your 3DS, a rose gold color, and then to his, which is dark violet and covered in stickers referencing popular memes he saw on the internet. At least he has never made you see some particularly gruesome scene in the horror games he plays late at night out of impulse.

Franklin

As your words hang in the air, a silence so profound that you begin to question if he even registered your message, you find yourself fixating on your unfinished meal. Contemplating the merits and drawbacks of broaching the topic once more versus letting it go, you suddenly hear him put his cup of coffee down with a clatter as he almost slams it by accident.

“Where did this come from?” He asks. His tone almost seems concerned, you think, concerned for how you think of him when he is always so quiet or concerned for how you think he thinks of you, that one day he will simply not come back and find someone else more willing.

Franklin does not seem angry, not that he ever was. He is trying to appear neutral, to not scare you, like you were some sort of stray cat who he has yet to earn the trust of.

Though you don’t bite or scratch, you do hide from him.

“I… just want to know why you did all… this.”

Your eyes go everywhere, from the pots of plants he brought you recently by the barred windows to the blinking light above the stairs he promised to fix soon to Frank Herbert’s Dune laid across the couch next to your blanket.

“Franklin, since you claim to care about me… why can’t I go outside and be free?”

After a few more moments of silence, you look up at Franklin. He looks remorseful almost, from his visible frown to his eyes almost being closed to the way he does not look at you. Something akin to pity blooms in your chest.

“...Because unfortunately for both of us, I am… selfish, and you are too much for me to lose.”

Just like that, the pity dies similarly to the vase of flowers in the middle of the table.

Shizuku

You don’t know whether or not she will respond while knowing what you are and what she is. A captive. A captor. But you doubt it because every time she comes back she thinks you are here of your own volition and that you love her just as much as you know her.

Sometimes, you wish that you did, because whenever she sees you she looks at you like you were a gift that she had wanted for years.

Sometimes you wish that you did because that would make things oh so much easier for you. She sometimes forgets you are here, sometimes still goes to your actual home, and panics when she sees you are not there.

Shizuku merely chuckles, hugging you tighter. Perhaps she even forgot the slap she inflicted upon you earlier today for daring to say that you hate her, making you fly across the room.

“My love of course, silly!” Sometimes you hope that one day you will forget everything too because you envy Shizuku for never being cautious.

Pakunoda

“[First]...” Pakunoda’s eyes meet your own, one of her hands holding onto a chocolate-covered strawberry from the box she just got. Her other has a presence above one of your own, a presence so light you hardly recognize it is there.

She looks regretful and concerned.

The look fills you with so much guilt you immediately apologize and put the back of your head on her lap once again. It always works.

“You do know I care about you deeply, right, beloved?” Her long nails glide over your hair, making you close your eyes to calm yourself. You hope that look is gone because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take it before you break under its pressure fully. “I really do.”

You know she does, but it does not make the first days of your capture, which feels like an eternity ago, feel any less real, as much as Pakunoda denies the more horrifying parts of it all.

“I know, Paku.”

She smiles at the nickname.

The strawberry approaches your mouth, and you bite into it. Dark chocolate, you think this one is. Pakunoda loves her strawberries, but she loves parfaits just a little bit more. Maybe, to get her to forget your question, you can ask her to get some and feed them to her.

Soon, you fall asleep. Pakunoda opens her book back up after closing the box of sweets.

With one hand she caresses your hair, and in the other, she turns the pages of her novel. She loves evenings like this.

“I love you…” She murmurs, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “One day… you’ll love me too, fully, right?”

Half asleep, you agree without thinking. Once again, she smiles.

Bonolenov

With a sigh, he turns his head, momentarily interrupting your question. However, he quickly resumes dancing before you, delighting in your observation of his favorite pastime. Although you are unsure of the specific style of dance he is performing, you are confident that Bonolenov will soon enlighten you, taking the opportunity to boast about his expertise in this particular art form.

Listening to his animated explanations is always entertaining. His frequent rants make you feel as though he is a close friend rather than your captor if only that were true. Despite the circumstances, he treats you with kindness and respect. He believes that housing you in his home is an honor and privilege, a sentiment for which you hold some gratitude.

“A lover, because I do love you. You are simply wonderful to be around, after all.” In an alternate existence, were he not involved in criminal activities such as theft, kidnapping, stalking, and multiple murders, you might have developed an affection for him. This is due to your awareness of his deep affection for you and the kindness he exhibits towards you.

So you say such.

Bonolenov stays silent for a little while after that, along with the dancing that he often enjoys doing. Instead, he gazes through the windows, adorned with steel bars, and tenderly places small tokens that he knows bring you joy upon the table in the kitchen.

Uvogin

“Huh?”

Uvogin stops punching the claw machine, turning to you. It’s a mess, all because you said you wanted a corgi plush from it. But is it your fault, when you wanted to win it fair and square?

Maybe it’s not. Maybe it is. You know Uvogin is never one to have coins in his pockets. But, then again, he always seemed to have money when he was placing bets with Troupe members, especially with that Nobunaga person.

He seems confused, albeit he is hiding it behind a smirk. In one of his hands, covered in little shards of glass, is the stuffed animal you wanted.

“Come on, [First]!” He laughs, delusionally proud of himself. “I’m your boyfriend!” He wasn’t, but you would never voice that.

“...I-I know. But still… Do you like me?” You make an effort to convey your thoughts in the most diplomatic manner possible, being cautious not to provoke Uvogin's anger. Despite never having witnessed Uvogin's wrath, you remain steadfast in your desire to avoid it at all costs.

His smile widens.

“Of course I do!”

He presents you with the cuddly toy, having meticulously removed all the splinters of glass embedded within it.

“Do you really?” You ask, thinking of the time he threatened to break your legs if you ever attempted to run away from him again. He wasn’t even angry as he said the threat.

At another one of your questions, Uvogin says yes. But does he really? Or are you just something to hoard?

Do you really want to find out, you wonder?

Your heart tells you you don’t.

Kortopi

He turns his head, confused. It is one of the few expressions you can decipher from Kortopi because of the many strands of hair covering him. At the sight, you bow your head down.

He steps forward, and you step back.

He stops moving. So do you.

He retreats. You don’t speak for the rest of the day. You were used to it though. Kortopi hardly ever talks to you, but you don’t think he means it to be rude.

“Everything.” He mutters, standing above your bed. You sleep so peacefully, something you never were when you were awake. “You are everything.”

Illumi

Gently, he puts his teacup down with a little clatter of the saucer as he does so.

“Do you think I see you in a bad light, [First]?”

You simply look down at your teacup, smelling the lavender and chamomile to try to calm down a bit before answering Illumi.

The query has plagued your mind for an extended period. The exact duration remains elusive, as the days have merged into an indistinguishable blur. No matter your actions, pain will be inflicted upon you by someone, regardless of your conduct. Perhaps it will be Illumi's mother, administering a slightly sublethal, tasteless toxin with a syringe. Or it could be Illumi himself, subjecting you to days of confinement in a food and water-deprived closet. Regardless of your behavior, the inevitability of suffering looms.

With the intent of prolonging your exposure to the morning birdsong and granting yourself additional time in the garden, you opt to respond.

“N-No.” You lie. “You… keep me around to be molded into your perfect spouse, I know that, it is just… just…”

His smile sends chills down your spine, surpassing even the terror of Illumi's younger brother once launching into a lewd tirade about you in your presence.

“That is all there is to it; nothing more, nothing less.”

You sip the tea finally, and the burning sensation in your throat does not bother you anymore.

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lliminall · 11 months

Text

yan!phantom troupe most to least likely to get you a cat | headcanons

tags: gn!reader, yandere, mentions of threatened violence against animals

pakunoda

she loves the idea! she even brings it up with you herself. she already likes cats and they always seem to like her, but she never thought about adopting one because of her unpredictable lifestyle. now that she has you, kept safe and hidden away in her home, it seems like a much more viable idea. she really does hate to see you so despondent and upset, and hates the thought of you being miserable all alone while she’s away, so bringing in a cat is a perfect solution to your loneliness. if you’ve been particularly good lately she may even bring you along to find one, either from a shelter or straight off of the streets.

machi

unlike pakunoda she won’t bring up the idea herself, but once you mention it she jumps right on top of it. not immediately, of course. she has to at least pretend to think about it and be cranky about it. really though, she recognizes this as a great opportunity to boost your mood and improve your opinion of her. she brings you a kitten because she thinks it’ll be good for you to put all your energy into raising it, and also because it’s just so cute. even if she won’t say it out loud. adopting the cat has a third, more unexpected benefit though. it ends up humanizing her to you, as soon as you see her cooing and petting the little baby when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

phinks

sure. why not. that’s exactly what he thinks when you bring it up. he really couldn’t give a fuck about some fuzzy little animal living in the house, but if it’ll make you happy (and finally make you like him) he’ll do anything. the shelter employees are a little hesitant to hand one over when you walk in with this brooding, sketchy looking guy but none of them have the guts to outright refuse him, so you end up bringing home whichever one you want. he doesn’t ever grow to love the cat, but with time maybe he can learn to like it. just a little bit. maybe even let it curl up on his lap and get fur all over his track suit, if you gush about how sweet it is while he does it.

uvogin

another one who just doesn’t give a fuck. he doesn’t like cats, doesn’t dislike them, but if you really want one he’ll oblige. yanks one straight off the street and brings it home to you spitting and scratching like it’s life depends on it. the poor baby calms down a lot once you manage to get it out of uvo’s hands, but the cat never quite warms up to him and really only likes you lmao. uvo doesn’t mind though, he really only got it to make you happy, and as you later find out, to have a more convenient way to bring you back in line when you start acting up. all it takes is one off-handed threat towards the cat and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more cooperative. it is very cute to see him trying to pet it’s tiny head with his giant fingers though, even if the cat is less than thrilled to have him around

shalnark

shalnark isn’t thrilled at the idea of having a cat around, but he isn’t exactly opposed to it either. he just doesn’t really care about animals much. and the thought of a cat getting hair everywhere and jumping all over his desk doesn’t sound like the best idea to him. if you’re persistent enough, however, he might make it into a reward for good behavior. if you can make it a couple months without picking a fight or trying to break a window he’ll bring one home for you, but don’t think for a second that you can ever get away with acting out again. shalnark will not hesitate to threaten the cat to get your cooperation, and he’ll say it all with a smile on his face and a hand scratching the oblivious kitty’s ears. he’s another one who won’t ever love the cat exactly, but might grow to tolerate it. likes picking on it with a laser pointer or some other toy that it loves to chase but never quite catches

chrollo

chrollo isn’t too keen on the idea. he moves around a lot, and it’s enough of a hassle getting you from one place to another with no hiccups. throwing an animal into the mix is not an appealing idea to him, but it’s possible to get him on board if you’re very, very convincing, and by convincing I of course mean being as sweet and cuddly (and maybe even sensual) as you can stand to be. I think chrollo would initially plan to buy you some expensive pure bred, but if you asked for a shelter cat specifically he may be surprised to find out that he’s happier that way. there’s something strangely charming about this scraggly little stray you’ve brought in to care for and cuddle. with enough introspection, he might come to the conclusion that he sees some of himself in this cat; or at least, some of who he used to be. he’s another one who will use the cat to keep you on your best behavior, although I don’t think chrollo would threaten to hurt the cat, just to take it away from you if you aren’t obedient. he doesn’t want you to resent him too much, after all.

feitan

oh god. if you know what’s good for yourself you won’t ever even ask him for one. if you do, and he agrees, it’s for one reason and one reason only: to terrorize you into obedience. feitan will not hesitate to hurt this animal you love if he thinks that’s what needs to happen to win your cooperation. whereas some of the others may use those threats a bit emptily, feitan has absolutely no qualms about breaking a bone on this poor animal to remind you that it’s in your best interest to mind his rules, now. what makes it more disturbing is the fact that feitan seems to get along with the cat just fine while you’re not acting up, petting it and letting it curl around his legs while he’s busy. he’ll threaten to snap a bone or crush its windpipe while stroking it calmly, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. he knows how terrified you are of seeing this animal get hurt. you’ll likely never have the guts to disobey him again.

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bwabys-scenarios · 22 days

Note

Hihi! Just wanted to say I absolutely LOVE your works esp the kurapika ones

Soo basically they take the reader out shopping specifically for undergarments and someone just so happens to walk in while they’re changing? Maybe w the phantom troupe + kurapika?

Panties and such(NSFW)

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: I’m going to assume you mean that the character walks in on reader, but if you meant a random person, sorry 😭🙏 also I’m only doing a two from the phantom troupe, doing all of them is just too much. I’ll do a part two if enough people want it, though! 🫡 REQUESTS OPEN! JOIN MY SERVER

characters: Kurapika, Chrollo, Feitan

warnings: creampie, reader wears lingerie, semi-public sex in Kurapika’s

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Kurapika

-you brought up the fact you wanted new panties, and he nodded along before processing what you said.

-“d-did you say… panties? As in… underwear?”

-a little flustered, but he insists on taking you, and paying for whatever you want.

-he brings you to a lingerie store, pouting when everyone assumes he’s a woman. that does work in his favor tho

-he keeps bringing you different sets of lingerie to try on, and he’s starting to get horny imagining you in each pair.

-eventually he pushes himself inside the dressing room, eyes going wide and cock hardening in his pants when he sees you pulling up a pair of lacy panties.

-he pushes them to the side, slipping his cock into you and pushing you up against the wall. “s-so pretty, angel…”

-you leave the store with several new sets of lingerie… some of them a bit… sticky…

Chrollo

-he’s the one that suggested it.

-“my love, it seems you don’t have much lingerie. You know how I’d just love to see you covered in lace, don’t you?”

-he takes you to the most well known, expensive lingerie store in the area.

-he’s a bit picky, and takes forever choosing what options for you to try on. He settled on mostly black lingerie, with a few pink and red sets… and one white one, with little angel wings on the top.

-Chrollo helps you into each set, his fingers gently tracing your figure. “Just gorgeous… oh my love, you look like an angel sent from above.”

-he’s quick to purchase every set you try on, and soon as you get home he’s on top of you, his teeth nipping at your jaw as his cock sinks into you.

-“that’s my pretty girl, so good for me…”

-he takes you out for dinner later that night, insisting you wear the lingerie he fucked you in. You spend the entire dinner feeling his cum oozing out of you, embarrassed as he stares at you with utter love and adoration.

Feitan

-“Bras? Don’t care about that. Steal it if want it.”

-that’s usually how it went when you asked Feitan to go shopping with you for anything. Either he’d say he didn’t care, or he’d offer to just steal it for you.

-so that’s how you ended up following him to the lingerie store in the middle of the night. He easily broke in, guiding you by the hand through the dark store until the two of you reached the lingerie.

-“okay. Pick your favorite.”

-you huffed at him, looking through the selection. “I’ve gotta try it on first…”

-you stripped, and this got Feitan excited enough… but he started stroking himself when you pulled on a pair of lacy panties.

-he continued to jerk off to you, until you caught him in the mirror.

-“F-Fei!”

-you blushed, but felt strangely flattered… “I’ll take care of it…”

-you sat in front of him, leaning down to take his cock in your mouth. “F-fuck…”

-seeing your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, your ass perched in the air was enough to have him cumming in no time.

-he helped carry home as many sets of lingerie as you wanted… maybe he liked seeing you like that more than he thought.

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corollaservant · 30 days

Text

The Host // Chrollo x f!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Chrollo likes you, you remind him of someone he knows. Better yet, you might just be her. He's hosting a show tonight and you're starring in it.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/coercion, knives, oral and penetrative sex, psychosis/schizophrenia, stalking, 1 insensitive rape remark, Sarasa mentions (Chrollo's childhood friend), spoilers for the manga, would add more but it kinda ruins it.

A/N: inspired by Phantom Troupe's flashback in the Succession Contest arc + brainrot + my eternal love for Chrollo, played intentionally with the verb tenses // wanted to try something different.

The party. That’s right, you were at a party, a drink in your hand and your friend with you. Where was the party? A sharp pain pierces your cranium and you wince. What ever happened to your friend? You decide you can't show empathy at present time.

It was commonly assumed that memory followed a chronological sequence, that the human brain could recall memories exactly like they unfolded but in all honesty, memory recalling happened in fragments for most. The party. Your friend. The colors of the light. A man.

A man. Who was the man and what were you talking about, you try to think but it’s kind of hard when you can’t see, you’re blindfolded and tied to a chair. Earthy odor, smells like soil, you note. Not that this takes you far. You had definitely been drugged, you felt weak and nauseous (it was a wonder the stills popped in your head) eyes so tightly folded, the little shapes and colors from the pressure increasing your fatigue, your heart palpitating. Was this date rape? You couldn’t touch yourself to find out but you felt intact. This was also not a date. Then why the abduction and ropes? To offer something, you think. But you didn’t have much to offer for the record. You try calming yourself down but the thought only stresses you further. Fuck, how long was this going to take?

Chrollo never did things without reason. Never talked without it, stole without it (debatable, but they were in need), never acted without it or killed without it. You being there was no mistake, he was wondering how you felt at the moment, not very familiar with human emotions, they all seemed wary, he thought, so he often brushed them off, not caring enough to dig deeper. Chrollo listened, he never talked. He could sit through a Troupe meeting actively hearing the members, knowing fully well when stupid proposals and ideas were spouted as they all patiently waited for his final word. He didn’t mind, he thought it was funny how people unraveled without him trying. His decision on you, he had to admit was made on impulse. He didn’t mean to drug you. He didn’t mean to abduct you. Unlike you, he remembers details. Him and the Troupe were in a club (silly to assume for entertainment, a stolen prize now decorating the heist gallery in one of the Troupe's hideouts) when he saw you. You weren’t far, a couple inches away, drinking clumsily and conversing with a person he presumed was a friend by the proximity of it. You had her eyes, he thought. Of course he could see perfectly in the dark, well, he could pretty much use any of his senses to a higher extent, he wouldn’t be a Specialist after all. Your wide eyes gleamed, they squinted when you couldn’t listen. To make matters worse, you had your hair in pigtails, loosely falling down your shoulders, long hair divided by two black hair ties. Just like hers, he thinks. Now, Chrollo is not sentimental, he really isn’t, but the optic parallels cloud his judgement and he wants nothing more but to be by your side, to reminisce the part of him that died a long time ago. He can’t cry, not unless he has a reason- he does nothing without it, but feels touched merely by your presence. Once the decision is finalized, he makes a move.

‘’Excuse me, miss’’ a voice rings behind you. A tall man with dark brown hair and gloomy eyes holds out your house keys, you always shoved them in your pockets, as you considered it safer than your purse, not directly attached to your body.

‘’T- thank you’’ you stammer, you’ve had a couple of drinks as the club lights hit on your face making you stumble against him, the guy behind you dancing so carelessly you’re being pushed left and right either way.

‘’Be careful’’ he smiles as he extends his arm to hold you upright, a mournful look on his face as he walks away. The keys. The man. The drink. Dark. There is no memory of what happened after.

It’s the same voice you hear entering the room, was it even a room? The sounds echo as if you are in a cave.

‘’Finally, here you are darling.’’ he smoothly says as you scream the first thing that comes to your mind ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’. Your voice rips through the ‘cave’ but you are certain it makes no difference. Whoever this is, doesn’t worry about the helpless sounds you’re about to make.

‘’Darling, please don’t yell, I’m right here.’’ the voice of the man inches closer, as the blindfold is being removed from your hurting eyes. Your heart races when you see him in all his glory, ominous stare and a tattoo decorating his forehead (did he have this at the club?), blue orb-shaped earrings, a peculiar attire that reminds you of a Victorian vampire- a long coat with feathers all the way down his ankles and some funny boots. His calm expression while supposed to be relaxing, just increases the nausea in the pit of your stomach, he seems familiar with such processes. As for the place, it isn’t coming to your aid either, you can’t recognize what this used to be (a warehouse? a prison? an actual cave for outcasts in the city suburbs?). You feel the known sensory feeling well up in your eyes, it’s starting to become serious.

‘’W-what to do you want?’’ you utter, unable to scream, well you could but see no point.

‘’Are your hands in pain my darling?’’ his eyes look over your tied wrists with concern as he flinches looking at the knot. ‘’I told Feitan to go easy on you.’’ ‘’Well.. he just never listens.’’

‘’What do you want from me?’’ you cry out, since is he not responding to your questions. You want to scream and beg him to let you go, he didn’t assault you so what does he even want? You had no use to a person, as far as you knew, an unessential addition to people’s lives.

‘’My sweet darling..’’ he murmurs as he prolongs the sentence, his words making the bile rise in your esophagus and travel to your mouth, your nausea from the drugging never really went away.

What sick game is this?

‘’Please excuse the sudden change of heart after our brief encounter at [ ]. I was hoping you can understand that I wanted you here today for a very special reason.’’ he starts and your heart’s thrumming, as you silently beg him to get to the point. You want out of there immediately.

‘’Please!’’ you yelp frustrated ‘’ just tell me.’’

‘’How about I show you? Hmm?’’ he responds, his velvety voice making you gag. ‘’Shalnark!’’ he calls and a blonde guy (boy?) makes an appearance holding a.. tripod and a digital camera, which he sets right next to him, adjusting the tripod’s legs and connecting the mounting head with the camera.

‘’Everything's set up, anything else boss?’’ this guy literally beams as your eyes widen, was this a perverted farce? What did the guy mean with fucking boss?

‘’W-what is this?’’ you yelp but ‘boss’ has his a attention directed at the blonde guy.

‘’Think you’re forgetting something, Shalnark..’’ he playfully scolds the boy and the boy’s eyes light up as if having a sudden godlike revelation.

‘’You’re so right, boss!’’ he widely smiles as he exits.

‘’W-what are you gonna do?’’ you are crying, indescribably anxious as you can't think straight – the psychotic simulation suddenly makes you wish it would’ve been a date rape.

The boy comes back and this time he is holding a wireless microphone, which he passes to the ‘boss’, his name unknown and not your concern at the moment as he wordlessly leaves you once again to his mercy.

‘’Now, sweetheart’’ you flinch at the choice of words, ‘’I would like for you to hold this right here.’’ he tells you indicating the microphone ‘’I’m gonna untie you, please think carefully of your next move’’ he says as he comes close to you, removing the ropes and freeing your bruised wrists. Your eyes flicker, should you try this? He knows. He sees you. He is a Specialist after all, he has a reason. The split second your left foot is turned towards his right side, a wide knife with a sharp blade is pressed to your neck, while you’re being headlocked to his sides. This happens so fast you hardly have time to comprehend it.

‘’Sweetheart’’ he sighs. ‘’The knife’s not just sharp, it’s also poisonous, so please behave.’’ He goes about it as if he deals with things like that daily, you feel your legs trembe and almost snap but he lifts you up and places you back to your initial spot. What kind of a psychotic freak has a poisonous knife on them? And why are his reflexes so fast?

‘’Will you please hold this, darling?’’ he patiently asks again, as he hands the microphone over, your hands shaking and you take it, eyes wide in fear.

‘’Now’’ he smiles. ‘’We’ll go over the script, oh..it’s been such a long time since I’ve done this!’’ he exclaims looking.. happy?

He hands you over a paper with a language you can’t understand and small dialogues, you take it it’s a German variation, as there’s these funny dots over the vowels but also has some incomprehensible words and you can’t make the distinction. On the bottom there’s this image of some superheroes with cleaning devices, one holds a broom, the other one a mop. Nothing makes sense and you feel exhausted as you try to negotiate a way out. Maybe he is just a freak who wants a stupid script played out, maybe it’s that. Maybe you will be able to be free, to see your cat again. Maybe. Logic has left you, but you don't seem to notice.

‘’W-will you.. please ..let me go.. after?’’ you whisper, ready to hear the worst when he simply replies:

‘’My precious, of course! Please grant me this favor and I will set you free immediately, I ask for you to forgive previous gestures on my behalf, it just happens that they mean so much to me’’ as you suspiciously eye him up, this is not a time for bargains or reason so you’ll comply to the freak’s needs.

You start reciting as he cuts you off. ‘’More passion, my angel, you need to say it aloud, shout out the line!’’ and you sniff, what a fucking weirdo.

He makes you retake the incoherent dialogues multiple times, cutting you off, correcting you, shouting at you for not waiting for his part. Of course he assigned himself the leader role, must've been some god complex, no wonder from a perverted mind like his.

It is around the middle of the play, when you mispronounce a word that he seems agitated as he approaches you. He slaps your face with malice, an ominous stare, his eyes burning as you let the microphone fall from his hand’s impact.

‘’You mispronounced this, she’d never do that.’’ he spits and you start feeling a new round of tears forming in your eyes, who she is and what you had to do with her not making any sense in your mind. You start sobbing as you mewl out brokenly.

‘’I-im sorry, we..w-we can redo this, please..’’ and he stares at you, the same pitiful expression on his face. He doesn't look upset though, all that pent up anger left him, the more he looks at your pretty eyes, how could he stay mad at you? You were after all the person he used to care for the most. A veiny hand approaches your now disheveled pigtails (pigtail in actuality, as one hairtie had fallen off during your abduction) and his fingers twirl around it. His lower half close to your face as you look up at him. He is absentmindedly staring at your hair when he kneels down to your height.

‘’I’m sorry’’ he smiles. ‘’Would you forgive me, my darling?’’ his breath fanning on the red mark and your parted mouth. Tears are staining your cheeks as he swipes his thumb to 'clean' you. The proximity gives you chills, his composure remarkable and you hesitantly avert your eyes as you gulp.

‘’Y-yes, sir’’ you whisper, ‘l-let’s continue this’’ you were eager to be let free, eager for this twisted game to end.

‘’No, we shall not occupy ourselves with my play anymore, Sarasa.’’ he tells you.

Sarasa? Who the fuck is this and what did you have to do with her?

You didn’t like the new proximity, it made you anxious, his hands were cupping your jaw as he stood up and tightly grasped the loosened pigtail.

A prominent bulge was decorating his pants and while you tried to avert your eyes, you couldn't help but notice it. His finger grazed over your lips as he slid one in your mouth, observing you from above the whole time, a sigh escaping his lips when he heard you gag.

‘’Suck on it...’’ he orders, ‘’please, darling.’’

There was no plea in this tone, just authoritative command. You did as asked and he readjusted his legs. You guessed what was coming and you wanted this to be over, there was no escape but if sucking him off meant you got to be free you’d be more than willing to do that.

He unzips his pants, sliding them down together with his boxers as his cock springs free, he is probably the biggest you've ever seen and you feel anxious thinking of him in your mouth. He must’ve noticed because he chuckles and approaches you. You were about to shut your eyes and start the lewd act when he stepped aside and tied your wrists behind your back again. Left with your mouth hanging open, a victim to his merciless desires, he put his fingers in your mouth again. Your saliva coated the digits, which he removed and placed cautiously on his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you, stricken with fear and quivering, his good Sarasa, how he had failed to protect her, as he continued to jerk himself off in front of you. The scene is lewd, his naked torso protruding over his ridiculously oversized feather coat, his cock oozing his precum and making wet sounds coming in contact with your saliva and a tormented face – his head's arched back and slow ‘’im sorry’’s exit his mouth. You feel a sting in your core looking at him and the vague bile you had in your throat makes you audibly gag. How can you be thinking like this right now? But your body isn't run by your superego, your moral compass doesn't dictate your body’s instincts as your legs are unconsciously brought together to alleviate the pain.

He is getting himself off, glancing at you, knowing you drink him in and his strokes become faster when he suddenly touches your lips with his thumb and parts your mouth only for an angry cock to slam against your throat without a warning. He hisses and grabs your head to push your mouth and nose all the way down, he wants his release and wants it now. You can't breathe or shout or protest in any way, only wiggling your tied hands and crying out in pain, which comes off as groans that reverberate on him and he crumbles, falling apart, moaning and shooting all his release down your throat. Snots and tears fall on his cock and he slowly removes himself.

‘’What a mess you made, darling’’ he sighs, composure quickly regained.

You were responsible for this?

‘’I hope the camera is still on, because I am intending to punish you, Sarasa’’ he said. ‘’You only had one line, my angel, one line in the entire play and you couldn't make it. You know how much this upsets me?’’ his voice almost breaks, the whole ordeal messing you up even more.

You seriously couldn’t understand him at all, you wanted to get out, your throat already hurting from his penetration and fearing for the next part. You knew it would involve sex and shuddered at the realization he would have to touch you..down there. The thought that you had been wet up until he came in your mouth, the fact that he would soon enough know this, the fact that you had been involuntarily aiding his mission by complying to his cruel needs made you feel vile but you had no time to process that as you felt two arms cutting the ropes quickly, letting you free from the chair you were tied to.

You jump up before realizing it, you’ll run you think (you really don't have time to think, you act solely on instinct) but his agility prevails once again, fast reflexes have your neck choked as he grabs you from behind, the knife with the black handle against your artery as you halt.

‘’This was my last warning, sweetheart, please comply before it’s too late.’’

He is dragging you back, forcing you to turn around, his cock still free and semi hard, was he seriously turned on again by your futile attempts for freedom?

What a sick person he was.

He languidly sits on the chair with his coat draping and touching the floor as he positions you on his bare lap. You draw a sharp breath, as you feel him under you, a disgusting cock rubbing your clothed entrance as he sighs and pulls you in an embrace. He smells like cedar, you think, cedar and sweat as he brings his lips to yours, connecting them softly. You keep them shut, your eyes open and he knows it because he quickly pulls away. ‘’Darling, why don’t you kiss me?’’ he murmurs. You feel a sharp blade trailing down your spine, his knife moves to your sides and pokes at the flesh as he brings his lips close again. Your skirt reminds him of hers and it makes him desperate for closure, he'd protect her better this time, he thinks as his stiff cock touches your panties connecting your heat to his and making you softly whine, sounds you can't control. ‘’Please..’’ he whispers as you connect your lips to his. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your freedom is close but the more you think about it, the more anxious you become and his sadistic tendencies leave no space for slip ups. His mouth devours yours, as it clashes against you, his tongue overlapping yours, of course he'd be in control, while the knife rests on your lower back. You start grinding down his length, hands digging at the roots of his hair as you feel yourself lubricated against your will, you wanted this to be over, that’s what you tell yourself.

With a hand behind your back holding the knife and the other one free, he decides to feel your silky softness, test it for himself, his good girl, how obedient she is under his touch, how eager to be punished for her wrongdoings. He teases your entrance, as he smears the wetness gathered around, you choke on a moan, your still functioning conscious and pride making you want to stay silent but that's impossible with a hand around your clit, a finger sliding with ease inside your walls, curling up and poking inside you. The knife also doesn't leave you with another choice.

‘’I want you to call out my name’’ he hums as he continues his rhythm, you are slowly coming undone on his fingers.

‘’W-what’s your name, sir?’’ you manage to breathe out in between thrusts, you’ve been trying to simultaneously fuck yourself on his fingers, the pressure building up steadily within you.

‘’Chrollo’’

What a funny name.

‘’P-please..Chrollo’’ you whimper, it's when he decides to remove his fingers from you.

‘’Oh, Sarasa’’ he sighs, ‘’you’ve misbehaved enough today, I really wanted to punish you, you know?’’

‘’N-no, p-please, Chrollo’’ you purr his name. At this point calling you Sarasa doesn't even bother you, you got accustomed to it some time ago.

Something in the way you hum his name makes his eyes flicker and he wordlessly drops the knife behind him, as he squeezes his cock to line up with your entrance.

‘’Don’t think I don’t have other means to restrain you, darling’’ he mutters and pulls you down on him, giving you no time to adjust to his girth, the head slamming against your insides as you let out a lewd moan.

‘’S-sir’’ you moan, as you're sucking him in, taking every inch as best as you can given the circumstance, you are dripping down his length, as large palms viciously grope your behind, smashing your hips down his pubic bone. Your pretty face bouncing atop him, wide eyes (oh these eyes) looking at his now fully darkened ones and he watches his pretty girl come apart, soft moans leaving your smudged lips, pigtails now fully disheveled as your hair bounces freely on your delicate shoulders. He observes your mouth, how beautiful it looks each time it curves and smiles at him, each time you’d tell him ‘’Look at what I found!’’ excitedly, a tape among the junk, a broken toy– you were his favorite companion. Chrollo feels himself jerk within your walls, you're trapping him inside and he won't last long.

‘’Come for me, please’’ he hisses, pushing your hips in a way that has your clit touching his groin, you are gripping his hair fervently as you let out small ‘fuck's (involuntarily, you convince yourself) and rock yourself on his length.

He is inching you closer to your relief despite your disdain and you can tell he is there with you, parted mouth leaving shaky, pleading blabbers, as he grabs your hair and twists it in his palm, tugging at it harshly. You are forced to throw your head back so it gives him the opportunity to assault your neck, sucking and biting on it, the sensation tingling and arousing as you come apart, an orgasm taking over you.

‘’C-chrollo’’ you sing, pleasing him and making him groan and cum once again inside you, your core spasms and tightens, clit pulsating and muscles taut as he thrusts upwards to fill you up as much as anatomically possible, his cum seeping from within onto his thighs. He's marked you his twice and doesn't think he'll ever forget.

‘’My good girl’’ he exhales shakily, ‘’my precious, little girl’’ he continues, rubbing your back, as your weight falls on him, the knife tossed behind him looks at you and you shut your eyes.

Chrollo lets you go. He doesn’t order you a ride or have the blonde guy escort you. You have to walk 45 exhausting minutes to find a bus stop and even then, you hardly recognize the area.

Chrollo leaves for the next 6 months, not communicating anything to the rest of the Troupe, people overestimate their closeness. He replays your video every night while he’s away fighting and earning (stealing) abilities, your beautiful, expressive eyes haunt his dreams, Sarasa would like you if she met you. Sarasa would make friends with you. Sarasa, you. What's the difference?

He comes back only to find you sleeping, so peacefully he rejoices at the sight. Absolutely perfect and innocent, he tainted you and you didn’t even care? He smiles. He tells himself you're a bad girl for sleeping with your doors unlocked, just like Sarasa liked to wander on her own and look where that got her. Maybe the door wasn’t unlocked, it’s something he finds irrelevant now. He had kept his promise, he thinks. You should be grateful he’s honest.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #tw dark content #hxh fanfic #hxh chrollo #yandere chrollo #chrollo hxh #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo smut #chrollo x you #tw psychosis #tw dubcon #tw noncon #corollaservant

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Burgeon

A chance encounter that barely lasted seconds plants curiosity into Chrollo's mind. After searching for you, Chrollo decides to keep himself entertained, but being called to a blood splattered scene causes his initial plan to derail.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Soulmate au where either person experiences the other's emotions prior to their name appearing on their body. Only Nen users are able to see those names.

>Warnings: blood, murder, someone being eaten alive, mentions of domestic abuse and suicide, premarital hand holding, Chrollo being a creep

>Word count: 10.5k (kind of a slow burn)

Part 2 I Part 3

Fear was not a familiar emotion to Chrollo. If anything, the closest he's acquainted with is excitement, thrill. It was the excitement in thievery that he looked forward to the most, that he relished the most.

Not even three skilled Nen users could make him bat an eye. One pen was all it took to end them, no Nen at all. So why was it that when you both locked eyes through the smoke he felt fear?

The way his heart pounded was a foreign feeling. You were just a passerby, someone who had to stop for cover because a car had exploded seemingly out of nowhere. The culprit, Chrollo, stood on the other side of the wreck as his spiders fled.

Clutching his heart, he imprinted the feeling in his memory, from the way his heart was beating out of his chest to how he was seemingly frozen in place. It was when your eyes widened in horror that he broke out of the trance and moved again.

The next time you blinked, he was gone.

As if the timing couldn't be more convenient, Chrollo couldn't sleep that night.

His troupe members had passed out after getting heavily intoxicated, and he was left alone with his thoughts. Another heist was successful, yet he felt incomplete. Is this another facet of himself he has to discover? To figure out?

No. It was the encounter he had. It was something about those eyes that deeply disturbed him. Could you be a Nen user? It's possible, but if you were, he would've known. You looked… normal.

Either way, it was just eye contact. He will never see you again, so there's no point in overthinking it. As Chrollo calms his mind to slip into slumber, the feeling from before returns. Dread and fear seeps into his being like water does a sponge. A few hours later, his mind finally allows him to rest.

Chrollo was wrong. He was so unmistakably, so horribly wrong.

It has been hardly three days since the heist, and he's already come across you again. Curse this. If you recognise him, it might prove to be a problem. Killing this many people in the library would be a hassle as the authorities would come to realise that the Phantom Troupe is still in the city.

No matter. He'll continue what he was doing. If you do have the gall to approach him, he'll quietly deal with you.

As he mindlessly grabs a book from the shelf, he concentrates on your presence. You seem to be somewhere in the science section. Perhaps you're a student? That would explain why you're diligently looking all over. It must be something particular.

Chrollo stays out of sight and seats himself in a corner. The table fortunately has only one chair and from there, he can see the rest of the floor. If anything, his appearance reassures him. His hair is down, a cloth wrapped on his forehead and his clothing is just as normal as anyone else's.

Okay maybe it doesn't entirely fit the description of an average citizen. It leans towards the more 'pretentious' side as Phinks had once said. However, it doesn't stand out so nothing to worry about.

…

Why are you coming this way?!

Oh wait. Your belongings are on that table over there to the right. Great. Just great. You're sitting on the table to his right and facing him. Ah, at least you're looking into that book you have. Wait, what is he reading? Did he even bother to check what he grabbed?

It was in the literature section, so it ought to be something interesting. No matter. He'll just multitask. If he feels your eyes on him, it'll be likely that you recognise him. In case that does come to pass, he shall immediately exit the premises.

Chrollo immerses himself in the book. He didn't bother to read the title, satisfied at seeing Friedrich Nietzsche as the author, and started going through the words. The priority at the moment is to keep an eye on you, and keeping an eye on you he is because his book is now forgotten as he side eyes you at the disruption of aura.

Grey eyes carefully consider how you channel the flow of aura in your body. It's practised and genius how easily you've manipulated it to flow and concentrate under your palms. However, before Chrollo has a chance to even think about what sort of Nen user you may be, you abruptly stand up.

Grabbing the books and your bag in a hurry, you head for the librarian to check them out. Chrollo slowly keeps pace, hiding behind a bookshelf when you're waiting for the librarian to do her job.

He can see the way apprehension oozes out of you, and he feels more drawn into you. Akin to an unlike magnetic pole, he follows after you, attracted, getting closer and closer each time only to snap out of it when he's a few feet behind you on the sidewalk.

Your bag is now swung over your shoulder, books hugged closely to your chest and eyes constantly darting around like you're looking for something. When you move to cross the road, Chrollo doesn't follow.

There has to be something wrong. This must be some sort of joke. All that stuff was just a fairytale, not reality. So why? Why did he feel overwhelming anxiety and apprehension when he was standing behind you? Why did your tapping foot settle down at that same time?

Why is there now a name written on his forearm?

Hopelessly trying to scrub it off while showering, he realises that it's there to stay. The realisation does little to assist in comforting him. All the evidence points to what he had deduced to be a simple folktale to be reality.

It's alright. Chrollo is a thief after all. The most business he has is to steal whatever Nen ability you have, if it proves useful that is.

There it is again. Anxiety.

Just being within eight feet of you brings about that feeling, but considering how your posture just relaxed, Chrollo finds that being within a certain radius of your 'soulmate' causes both parties to feel what the other feels, which in your case is anxiousness.

So he wasn't feeling fear that day after all. He was feeling what you were.

Regardless, Chrollo puts on a smile and casually takes a seat opposite to you in the coffee shop. It has been a real hassle locating you, so he isn't going to throw in the towel anytime soon.

The sound of a chair being dragged against the floor causes you to flinch, but you don't bother glancing up from what you're reading. Perhaps you're not very outgoing and would like to keep to yourself. He doesn't find any problem with that, for he can quite easily make conversation for two.

Chrollo clears his throat once, carefully eyeing you for a reaction and simultaneously calming his beating heart. Over the somewhat quiet atmosphere of the shop and his calm demeanour being transitioned over to you, you would have easily heard him. He tries again, but you give no response.

He tries a third time, and leans forward as he starts conversation. "I can't help but notice that you've been reading about the quantum properties of light. Are you a physics student?"

Slowly, like how the most grand and most precious merchandise is unveiled at an auction, you raise your head to meet his eyes. In an instant, he feels his heart wildly pound against his chest before his usual calmness is back.

"I'm… not a physics student," you reply, voice meek.

"Ah, someone interested in the topic maybe?"

The most Chrollo is rewarded with is a nod, and you immediately bury your face back into the book. That reaction was more than what he was hoping for, thus he won't complain.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he decides to take his chances, using his gentlemanly exterior to smooth things over.

"Would you mind if I joined you this evening?" He smiles when you peer over the edge of your book. "I believe the book you're reading is of my interest. Do you want to talk about it over coffee?"

"Why?"

Playing hard, aren't you?

"Well, it would be nice to make friends in the city. Especially if they're like minded, right?"

Smile Chrollo. She might lower her guard.

You put down your book, watching him in consideration. Then, you call over a waiter and give your order, gesturing to Chrollo to do the same. A smile stretches on his face. Oddly enough, he hasn't felt any apprehension again, only mild nervousness at best.

Voice gentle, he starts conversing.

"Are you a college student?"

With narrowed eyes, you watch him carefully. "No. Far from it actually. What about you?"

Chrollo rests his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "I'm just here for business. I keep an eye on auctions and merchandise. My job is to keep tabs on such matters."

"Alright… then why are you interested in what I'm reading?"

"Science is fascinating, isn't it?"

"You're lying."

Silence.

Chrollo cannot say if the calmness he feels is from you or him. What he can say for sure is that you're not as innocent as you seem. The cold gaze you have is proof of it.

With the grace of a swan, he sits up straight, smile still present on his face as he tries conversing again.

"Why do you think that I'm lying?"

"It's obvious," you reply.

Shaking his head, he keeps his voice soft. "Well, I couldn't just let a beautiful girl like you sit alone like this. Why not converse if we have mutual interest?"

"You're lying again, sir."

Somehow, being called sir makes Chrollo feel… alienated but still good nonetheless.

"My name is Chrollo. What about you?"

You consider him for a moment before you close the book in front of you. "I'm [Name]."

It takes all the composure he has to not let his eyes widen. That's the same name that appeared on his forearm. Perhaps choosing to encounter you was the right decision. You may be able to aid him in one way or the other.

"Well, [Name], truth be told, I felt oddly drawn to you, and I don't say this to be flattering. I really did feel drawn. That's why I approached you."

The waiter returns with the drinks, and he closely watches how you thank him with a smile. An odd feeling stirs in his chest, but Chrollo brushes it off as your emotion.

"Alright," you interrupt. "I have to say… you're pretty weird."

"I do hear that a lot," he chuckles.

"Hm." You lean forward, eyeing him closely. Chrollo sits unbothered at your peculiar behaviour. If anything, he's amused. He's finally found an interesting person with Nen no less. He could even claim that he's ecstatic.

"Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head and return to your seat. The both of you start drinking your drink in silence. However, you keep eyeing him closely and it's rather bothersome. Suddenly, like how a water balloon bursts when too heavy, you speak.

"I was just messing with you earlier, Chrollo. No hard feelings?"

He smiles, "None at all."

Silence once again persists, but is quickly replaced with conversation when most of Chrollo's coffee is gone. He starts with asking about your hobbies and slowly manoeuvres the conversation to hunters. Disinterest is palpably written on your face at the topic, but he pushes through.

"I've heard that hunters are very odd people. It's almost as though they're a completely different breed."

Bored, you trace random patterns on the table with your finger. "Yeah. They're all a little crazy in the head if you ask me. The exam is even worse from what I've heard."

"Are you interested in taking the exam?"

For a split second, Chrollo sees your aura change, but it quickly disappears.

"No," you deadpan.

You're tracing something on the table again, but why has your aura disappeared? Taking advantage of the pause in conversation, he uses Gyo to see if you may have used In. The technique is used for hardly a second, just long enough to know that you did use In, but judging from your disinterested gaze on him, you may have caught him.

"You can do that?"

Chrollo blinks, attempting to act coy. "Do what?"

"Don't act dumb, Chrollo. I saw that."

Amazing. You weren't even looking at him when he did. Has he found a formidable Nen user? Hm. He wonders what your Nen ability is.

With a flirtatious smile, he leans in. "You're quite talented if you found me out so easily."

"Are you a hunter?"

"Not at all."

An expression of deep thought is present on your face, eyes boring into the empty cup that sits in front of you. Chrollo lets you stay under the assumption that you have the power in this conversation. He lets you think and consider your next words carefully, feeling almost giddy at seeing this encounter through to the end.

"Do you know… what Nen is?"

Bingo. Chrollo has finally found an opening and the world be damned if he doesn't use it to his advantage.

"Of course I do," he replies, voice smooth and gentle to lull into a sense of security. "I've actually taught people about it before."

For some reason, you raise a brow at that and he laughs.

"No really. I have taught people before. Mostly my friends. Are you looking to understand it better?"

Cautiously but almost desperately, you give in. "Yes! I don't know what this weird thing is. I thought I was going crazy."

"Well, you've met the right person."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Really?"

Your expression contorts into one of slight disgust mixed with overflowing annoyance. At the sight, Chrollo keeps his composure in case you may have recognised him or worse, seen through him. However, all panic goes down the drain when you bang your hand on the table.

"You look like you work a corporate nine to five! How are you supposed to be an expert?"

Relieved but still very, very confused, Chrollo slightly tilts his head, eyebrow raised under the bandana. "Are you… insulting me?"

"I'm stating the obvious." You settle down, slumping into your seat. "You better not be lying to me, Chrollo. Trust me, a lot of people already have."

"I promise. I will help you understand your ability better, and that's final."

For some reason, the way your eyes had lit up at that was kind of cute.

Chrollo is absolutely itching to confirm whether you're aware of the existence of his name on your body or not. It might be in some inconspicuous place like behind your knee that you don't look often, but the 'emotional exchange' should have been concerning if not completely odd.

Nonetheless, Chrollo marches on towards your apartment. Naive as you are, you had allowed him to come to your apartment just after a few days of being acquaintances. The credulous mentality you harbour is simply aiding him. Once he knows what your Nen ability is, he will steal it and be on his merry way, any soulmate talk be damned.

Before his finger could even meet the bell halfway, you've swung open the door. Chrollo stands there blinking at your haphazardness, and is immediately pulled inside by the wrist. You stand there in pitch black darkness, the main door stuck to your back like glue as all the curtains continue their purpose of blocking any light from the street.

Had this not been his first time here, he would have been able to navigate the place properly. Pushing aside his desire to eliminate the darkness a little bit, he calls out your name. Chrollo doesn't miss the way you flinch or the way your breathing gets worse.

"What's going on?"

His question further rattles you. Fisting your hair, you drop to your knees crying. What he can see of the sight makes Chrollo feel odd. Why aren't the emotions transferring back and forth between you both?

Being as frazzled as you are, wouldn't it be advantageous if your emotions were transferred to him instead? So why aren't they? Is there some sort of condition he isn't privy to?

You choke on your own wails, and out of something Chrollo brushes off as pity - totally ignoring the pang in his chest - he squats down and holds you. As though soothing a child, he keeps comforting you till your sobs turn into quiet weeping.

Half an hour later, the curtains are still drawn, a few of the lights have been turned on and freshly brewed cups of coffee are present in both your and Chrollo's hands. You make it a point to not look at him, obviously embarrassed at the earlier situation.

So, like always, Chrollo takes the lead and asks what happened.

"I did something," you reply. "I… I don't know how but it just did and then…and then all the light became too much."

This piques his interest. Could it be that you found your Nen ability after just hearing about the basic techniques from him?

"What do you mean by 'did something'?"

You wordlessly stand up and seat yourself on the floor right in front of the centre table. Palm flat on the table, you slowly raise it up, and Chrollo sees something forming beneath it.

Using Gyo is useless, for what you've conjured up is made of hardly any aura at all. It baffles him to see a little rabbit, white but almost translucent, sit there. It blinks up at you, puffy eyes looking back at it with what one can only describe as repugnance.

Slowly, the bunny hops towards you. Its translucent body and solely white colour scheme makes it seem eerily unnatural as it clings to you, climbing up your body and into the crook of your neck.

You pet the animal, but when Chrollo tries to do so while reaching forward, his hand goes through it and touches your neck instead. Oddly enough, when the rabbit bumps its head against his hand, he feels the impact.

"I think only I can touch this thing," you state.

This ability may mean that you're a conjurer, but then why is it not made of aura? Chrollo can't seem to see any even with Gyo, so what is that? When you clench your fist, the animal disappears into thin air.

As frivolous as this seems, if used correctly, it could be a deadly ability.

"Is that what scared you, [Name]?"

Perhaps you took his words to be infantilising, for you look away and furrow your brows. Not even now can Chrollo feel your emotions like he did before. Therefore, he's left to guess like he always does.

"It scared me because it's the light."

The light?

He leans forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that light is what's making these things."

Light? So your ability consists of shaping light to your will? It is in a sense just energy.

"How can you be sure," he challenges.

Your stare is cold, merciless and oozing with disdain when you reply. "Because I know it is."

Wow. That's a lot of confidence for someone who was previously overwhelmed. Resting his face on his hands, Chrollo studies the flow of aura in your body. There's no need for him to give away all Nen related information if you're doing this well without it, so maybe he should just withhold it and watch how this plays out.

Had he felt generous, he would've done the water divination test with you, but he's not here to teach. He's here to give a slight push, steal and leave. That's it.

"I created a dead person's head."

Chrollo blinks up at you. That's certainly… something interesting to conjure up.

"Whose head was it?"

This time, your expression is sad when you answer. "My old neighbour. She died recently."

Ah, perhaps it was an unconscious thing. As you put away the cups, Chrollo keeps a close eye on your movements. The reason why your aura has been awakened may stem from this person's death. They might have been close to you considering that you did unconsciously create a copy of their head.

Maybe he needs to do some digging.

As Chrollo lets the midnight breeze blow through his hair, he thinks over the earlier events and information. An abusive husband, a docile wife. You were good friends with the lady, and tried to gather evidence to report the man.

Unfortunately for you, evidence was hard to gather. Whenever you tried, it would backfire and the now dead wife would suffer instead. Thus, when she took her own life, you used the police investigation to your advantage and revealed everything. The man was jailed, but the wounds of your dead friend never healed.

It is highly likely that this event triggered your aura nodes. Extreme emotional turmoil, though rare, is a possible trigger in your situation.

Eyes scanning the view in front of him, he thinks over possible uses of your ability. It's better than what a conjurer can do because you've already proven its versatility with the two extremely distinct things you created.

Maybe he should wait it out, let it develop more. He did, after all, tell you to practise with different things. If in case a new facet of your ability is unveiled, he wouldn't be the first to experiment with it.

The sounds of the bustling city make up for the lack of conversation. Behind you, a mother scolds her son for fighting with his younger sister. Next to them, a group of friends who have supposedly not seen each other for a while drink in the afternoon sun of the park.

You look tired.

And Chrollo has the urge to bring up the topic of soulmates.

Have you really not found a name on your body yet? It's hard to believe. He goes to sleep every single night after staring at that thing on his forearm with as much scorn as he is able to muster. He is a thief. And thieves do not indulge in daft affairs such as romance… or maybe most of them do not.

Contrasting his urges, Chrollo does not know what he would do if you have actually seen his name on your body. Should he use it to gain more of your trust? Or act innocent and pretend he doesn’t know? Would it be appropriate to indulge? Why does he want to indulge? What is so charming about your smile that he is rendered frozen and unable to look away?

Chrollo figures that Shopenhauer was perhaps partly correct in his analysis of love. Infatuation can blind even the most intelligent of men.

Your lips finally part to speak and Chrollo's world momentarily goes silent, the only sound being your voice and his beating heart.

"He's out of jail."

A vivid image of a grinning man comes to his mind, and he entertains it as the silhouette sports a hammer in his hand.

"He's out and he's looking for me."

The desperation in your tone suffices to rouse curiosity in him. Though a restraining order is paltry in this situation, he still suggests it just to be turned down. When you explain that a measly piece of paper saying that he isn't allowed to be near you is useless, Chrollo is unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Then why don't you just deal with him yourself," he proposes. "You're strong, [Name]. An ordinary man like him will go running as soon as he sees your Nen."

Now that the seed has been planted, Chrollo sits back and watches it grow.

Blood has never looked this good on any human being than it does on you. Oh if only he was able to witness it. The dead body of the man lies mangled in the living room, limbs separated, but your eyes seem to be more lifeless.

Intentionally feeding the enraged man information about your whereabouts was supposed to lead to a conflict where you flee home and purposely seek out Chrollo. During the panic, he would take advantage of your trust and steal your ability, take care of the man and be on his merry way.

Cleanup duty was not what he had expected. Well, neither was the possibility of you killing him considering how cowardly and timid you are. You must truly be his soulmate if you've done this.

Chrollo ushers you to your bedroom and asks you to stay inside till he comes for you himself. Summoning Bandit's Secret, he gets to work and once the mess is cleaned, he finds you seated on your bed in the same spot he had left you in an hour ago.

It's almost as though he's looking at a corpse.

Unmoving. He can't even be certain if you're breathing.

Calling your name does not elicit a reaction, so he simply sits next to you, mattress dipping under his weight. Judging from how messy it was, a fight must've transpired before. However, no furniture was broken or even scratched which means it was a clean strike. Not even your hands are dirty, only a few splatters on your face.

Which only boils down to you conjuring up or creating some sort of weapon with the 'light energy' that you manipulate. Whether it's conjuration or manipulation, Chrollo isn't sure. What he is sure of is that you are absolutely devastated.

So, being the gentleman that he is, he comforts his fated other half and bids goodbye after you're sound asleep. It was a completely one sided conversation again, but it doesn't matter.

He wants to break you more.

"Say, Chrollo?"

The man in question looks up from his book, the warm atmosphere of the library putting him at temporary ease. With a tilt of his head, he urges you to continue.

"Why do you always cover your forehead?"

He smiles, amused, and rests his chin on top of his hands. "Why do you wear clothes?"

"Huh?" Incredulous, you lean forward as well. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We wear clothes to hide our body, yes? Some people choose to cover most of it, and some choose to cover less. I don't see anything wrong or socially unacceptable about covering my forehead. It's just another part of my body I wear clothing over."

Chrollo smiles smugly. The way your mouth is left open at the answer is quite delightful. It's hard to believe that just a week ago you murdered someone.

"You're hiding something!"

"Am I," he challenges. "If I recall correctly, I'm not the one with skeletons in my closet, dear."

Lately, he's been getting more bold with the pet names. It's amusing to see you grow flustered over his nonchalance.

"It was self defence. I… I didn't mean to do anything."

Sure you didn't, but neither of you talk about that night. It’s an unspoken rule you set when you acted as though nothing out of the ordinary took place the day after the incident. Ironically, Chrollo is bemused at why you’re not afraid that the police might come after you if he decides to not stay quiet.

"Why did you help me?"

Now that is an interesting question from you. Why did he help you? Was it some feeling of obligation that led to his cooperation? Or did he feel pity? Pity that he will soon leave you after taking away an imperative part of yourself.

But he's never felt pity on his victims before. Why now? Is it because you're his supposed soulmate? The full name is the same, and he is quite curious to see if you are to play a key role in understanding himself.

Perhaps it's time to tip over the cup and let the tea spill. As composed as you outwardly were when asking, he could laugh at how obviously you're panicking, afraid that he might get bored and tell the police. That is one thing he silently holds over you.

However, once the tea spills and stains, it never washes out.

"Have you ever heard about soulmates?"

The question seems to baffle you, for your inner panic morphs into plain dumbfoundedness. Thus, Chrollo takes the liberty to explain.

"There's this folktale that two people have each other's names somewhere on their body that can only be seen by Nen users. These two people are destined to be romantic partners. I thought it was a silly story at first, but it seems to be true. To be frank, I hadn't believed anyone's reporting of it, but seeing it for myself has proven me wrong."

You close your book, eyeing Chrollo closely. "What're you trying to say?"

As ballsy as he is, Chrollo pulls up his sleeve and shows you your name written on it. Mercilessly, he explains how he felt your emotions prior to fully accepting that you are, in fact, his destined 'other half'. Chrollo's tongue holds no remorse to the horrified look on your face as he continues explaining his reservations for befriending you and how he got over them.

Conversely, he stays quiet after the unloading of information and lets it all sink in, allowing you to process what you heard. You look scared and vulnerable, yet Chrollo can't figure out why. Is it because he is your soulmate? Or is it because you're just stuped over something as silly as this?

Whichever it is, you clearly did not know about it which means that you haven't seen his name on your body yet.

"And that's why you helped me…?"

"Frankly," he says, "that's why I approached you in the first place. I felt your emotions in this library and when I put two and two together, I figured it out."

A pause and you speak again. "But… I haven't seen any name on my arm."

"It can appear anywhere on your body. It's usually triggered by the other person being in your vicinity."

Silence.

Was stealing your ability and leaving the right way to go? Why are you looking at him like that? With such hope and friskiness?

Why are you reaching for his hand?

Once intertwined, you make it a point to look at your and Chrollo's hands held together. He eyes the connected hands with childlike curiosity at the uncalled gesture but lets you have your way. Once your giddiness has settled down, he's quick to put on a smile.

"Premarital hand holding? Why, that's a bold move."

The comment causes you to immediately let go of his hand as though touching a hot surface. What part of his little slip had bothered you is beyond Chrollo. However, he continues smiling and tries again at conversation.

"I hope you're not disappointed over who fate has chosen for you, [Name]."

"I'm not." The sudden proclamation perhaps made you nervous because you keep touching your hair. "It was just so sudden."

Chrollo decides to poke a little, just for fun. "So you have no qualms about me being your romantic partner? Is that what you're implying," he chuckles.

Somehow, this kind of flustered look on you is even more precious. Stammering over your words, you take a few moments before you can give a comprehensive reply.

"That's not… w-what I was saying. What I meant was… was…"

"Was?"

Taking a deep breath, you gather all your courage to speak which, by the way, is a lot more than what you used to kill that man. "I meant that I wouldn't… be opposed… to the idea."

Wow. If Chrollo thought he had seen the peak of your bashfulness, he was absolutely wrong. He could almost pinch your cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't outright reject me. That would have hurt quite a lot."

"What if I reject you later?"

"Hm." Faking contemplation, Chrollo holds his chin between his index finger and thumb. "I would simply kidnap you. I can't let someone as adorable as you escape, now can I?"

"Haha. Very funny, Chrollo."

Very funny indeed.

It was around two in the morning when you texted Chrollo. The second he saw your contact name on his screen, he felt victorious. You noticed, didn't you?

He had been keeping an eye on your schedule. During the hours you were not at home, he would enter your apartment and do a little… redecorating. An example is how this time, he left your kitchen knife over an empty piece of paper with a single red cross on it.

Simple and not bloody at all, but he knows you. Subtle signs are what scare you the most.

Wide open wardrobe doors, an unlocked main door, balcony door slid open with the curtain blowing outside because of the wind, kitchen drawers and cabinets left open, sofa cushions piled into a corner of the living room and so on.

Returning home to things being changed inside your house or waking up to those changes has certainly scared you a lot. Despite being as agitated as you are, this is the first time you contacted him. Did the knife outshine the other things?

No matter. It's not like he plans on replying. It's just a simple message asking him if he's awake. Chrollo doesn't even open the message, dismissing it from the notifications bar and heads to bed.

Perhaps he went too far with the scares.

As dire as the situation was in the beginning, he had thought that you grew accustomed to the changes in your surroundings but he seems to have been proven wrong. There are apparent signs of your weariness and agitation, and the sight almost makes Chrollo frown.

Your eyes cautiously dart around as you grab the cup of steaming hot coffee and bring it to your lips. Chrollo watches closely how you determinedly blow on the drink to cool it down, eyes fixated on the way your lips shape into a pout to do so.

He wonders how it would feel to touch them… among other things.

During your pursuit, you fail to acknowledge Chrollo's attentive stare and how he suddenly crossed his legs after clearing his throat. Begrudgingly averting his gaze elsewhere, Chrollo picks up his own cup and lets the silence between the two of you settle.

Was it not appropriate to tell you about the mark on his forearm? Are you somehow now vying to turn whatever this relationship is into a romantic one?

For the first question, Chrollo thinks he chose the right course of action. Knowing that he is your soulmate will make winning your trust easier, not that he doesn't have it already. For the second question, he can't be sure. There haven't been any such hints from you yet.

The fact that neither of you address the elephant in the room is also maddening. You had admitted to not being against having a romantic relationship with him, but the conversation hadn’t gone further. Should he take the initiative himself? It would certainly be more charming that way, but what if you didn’t bring up the topic again because you’re not ready for the commitment?

Ah, maybe he should go through the romance books you read. There ought to be a few quirks and personality traits of the male lead that could help him woo you.

His thoughts are interrupted by you calling his name. Putting down his cup, he watches you do the same, already missing the little pout on your lips from earlier.

"Chrollo, I think…I think I'm seeing things because of my ability."

Hm. An interesting deduction. You're wrong, but you don't need to know that.

"Do you suspect the happenings in your apartment to be hallucinations?"

You freeze at his question, but manage to muster a reply. "I don't know. It's probably my ability. It is related to light and conjuring stuff up, right? It has to be the ability!"

"Or maybe a vengeful spirit."

"No! No… he's dead. I know he is."

Erratic behaviour and irrational thinking. You're reacting accordingly. Now, to just give a little oxygen to the spark…

"If you're sure it's your ability," Chrollo drawls, "then maybe you should just get rid of it."

Surprise is clearly written on your face, and Chrollo almost smiles at the endearing wide eyes you sport.

"I can get rid of my Nen ability?"

"Of course." He takes a sip of his coffee and continues. "It's possible."

You bang your hands on the table, cup clinking against the surface. "How?!"

Chrollo simply smiles bastardly at that. If you suppose he will give away important information so easily, you're naive. However… your reaction to the matter was adorable if not an absolute deal-breaker.

Maybe he should give a little push before he claims his prize. It's been a fun ride, so why cut it short?

"If you want to know, dear, meet me here again next Friday at this same time. I need to do some research beforehand."

A change of plan is considered, and Chrollo needs time to think it over. Nevertheless, seeing how desperately you agreed, he thinks he might just change his plan after all.

Chrollo isn't certain whether this idea is wise to act on or not. As he makes way to your apartment, he recalls all the other times he's watched you for hours on end daily. There wasn't any noteworthy information he could gather other than your questionable nonchalance at continuing daily life despite everything.

Maybe he's put this off for too long. He should just get the job done and get on with it. Well, not after messing around with you a little more that is. You're his soulmate. The least he could do, if not indulge you romantically, is be a little playful, not that he isn’t going to indulge you, far from it actually.

Chrollo easily picks the lock in your apartment door. Turning on the lights, he sits himself on the sofa, pulling out a book to read while he waits for your usual time to come home. As he goes through the latest romance book you read, an hour passes, and when he can sense your presence in the vicinity of the building, Chrollo feels absolutely elated.

It's dark when you walk in. Closing the door behind you, you kick off your shoes, groaning. Leaving your bag near the shoe rack, you slowly walk in, wincing when the lights are turned on. However, the living room lights aren't the ones that are turned on. It's the kitchen.

"Good evening, [Name]. I hope today didn't tire you."

Squinting, you look at the dark haired intruder casually leaning backwards on the kitchen counter. His appearance is a mystery to you because you do not remember giving him a key.

"And what brings you here, Chrollo?"

"Is it taboo to want to see my destined other half?"

You scoff, "Quite the smooth talker. Seriously, why are you here? You scared the bejeebers out of me."

You carefully eye his posture. If he turns out to be a threat, you could just use your Nen. Maybe make a sword or some other weapon or just make a run for it. No, you trust him. The door was probably unlocked.

"I simply wanted to see you. I'm leaving in a while after all."

This seems to capture your interest. "Leaving? When? We were supposed to meet next week."

"Soon."

"Okay…"

"Very soon."

"How did you get in?"

Ah. There it is.

Before you could even blink, Chrollo had disappeared. Unfortunately for you, by the time your brain even registered the fact that he had supposedly vanished, a blade is pressed to your neck while an arm holds you steady against a chest.

He's behind you.

And he's put a knife to your throat.

"It's been fun. I could even say that the time I've spent here with you was quite enjoyable, my dear [Name]. However," he presses it closer to your neck, a sign that you should stop struggling. "All good things must come to an end."

"What-"

"I've told the police about what you did."

That's a lie, but what do you know?

Chrollo feels you struggle more, and even though he had no need to hold you like this, he finds satisfaction in feeling you writhe against him. It's nice to see you cower in fear.

"I can give you two options, dearest, and you have to choose whichever poison you prefer."

"Chrollo let me go-"

"If I move this blade even a millimetre, it will pierce your skin. It's also poisoned, so I can't guarantee that you will experience anything pleasant."

Another lie, but it easily makes you settle down.

Chrollo continues, "You can choose to either come with me quietly or stay here and let the authorities deal with you. Considering that you used Nen, I believe that the Hunter Association will come after you as well."

He releases you, and goes back to leaning on the kitchen counter like before, casually sauntering there.

"Will you choose me or certain death?"

"Who the hell are you?"

With a smile, Chrollo summons Bandit's Secret and holds it up for your view. The sight makes your insides twist in fear. For the ethically ambiguous man, your reaction is simply amusing.

"Do you not know, dear? I'm your soulmate."

You scoff again, fists balled. "How much did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie," he states, matter of fact. "I simply withheld information."

The look you give him is one of pure rage. Ah, what bliss. Being on the receiving end of such an expression just makes you more precious in his eyes.

"You wouldn't regret coming with me." Releasing the book in his hand, he relaxes his posture. "We can have a good time together. I don't bite."

"Yeah, but do you stab?"

Chrollo shrugs, a smug smile making the action all the more infuriating. Holding the knife up to your view, you make out its intricate design and all the detailing. It's probably one used by assassins and the like. What should you do?

Before he says something, you cut him off. "Honestly, I'd prefer you bite. That thing doesn't seem to be a pleasant thing to be stabbed with."

"I assure you that biting would come one way or the other. How else am I supposed to mark you? Show my love for you?"

"Are you serious," you deadpan.

"Why? Do you want me to bite you right now? First, premarital hand holding, now this? My, how forward of you, [Name]."

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

"Setting the jokes aside," he says, "I'm primarily here to rid you of your Nen. You asked me, remember?"

As Chrollo slowly steps towards you, your eyes - widened and glossy - stay fixated on Bandit's Secret. When Chrollo stops just a step away, he opens an empty page, watching how apprehension and dread oozes from your being.

Cupping your face with his free hand, he takes the opportunity to rub his thumb on your cheek as he consoles you. He could even almost lick his lips at how innocently you hold eye contact with your glossy, frightened eyes.

"I'll be gentle, so don't worry."

The first thing he did after he drove you here was give you a long list of rules to follow. What you had deduced from them was that you're now powerless and what he says, goes. He even took your Nen. At least now you know what his ability is, and it's in no way pleasant.

The hotel room is oddly fancy, but for someone like him, it's a perfect fit. He didn't tell you much on the way here, only absolutely necessary information like the fact that you are no match for him in combat or any other way and that you’ll have to stay with him for a while if you don’t want the police on your tail.

Your phone is confiscated, the telephone in the room has its connection cut and he's glued you to himself by trapping you between his body and the armrest of the sofa.

If anything, the arm Chrollo has slithered around your waist is just proof that he did hold some sort of affection for you from the beginning.

"If you keep drilling holes into the floor like that, you'll get wrinkles very early from the frowning, dear."

He hears you scoff and despite the book from earlier in his hand, smiles to himself at the reaction.

"I would prefer growing old and wrinkly early than endure this."

"How unfortunate then."

"..."

Chrollo turns a page, eyes going through the words. He feels you deflate, the action prompting him to pull you closer. On your end, it goes unappreciated, for you glare at him from his side.

Hesitantly, Chrollo turns his head to look at you. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nope. Not at all." Sarcasm oozes from your tone, but it only riles him up further.

"Would you like to be?"

Perhaps his smile is what's ticking you off, but it's amusing and he isn't someone to pass up on that.

"No. I'd rather take the wrinkles."

"Wise choice."

Is he really this unbothered after essentially ruining you? For what reason did he inform the police and then proceed to hide you? Why is he acting as though the two of you have been in a relationship for months? How is he so casual?

Before more questions can flood your panicked mind, Chrollo closes his book and announces that it's time. For what? You have no idea.

Chrollo's idea of a first date was to bring you to a mafia hideout with nothing but the clothes on your person. It was mainly a way for him to showcase just how powerful he is and just how much disparity exists between the two of you in strength. If he earns your compliance and submission on the first night together, you wouldn't dare to ever leave him.

You did say you weren't opposed to the idea of a romantic relationship with him, so it should be easy earning your acquiescence and cooperation, correct?

No. You're absolutely horrified at the dead bodies. Chrollo thinks he may have earned your fear instead of submission. But aren't the two things the same in essence? Maybe Shopenhauer is rubbing off on him a little bit.

As Chrollo removes a pen from the dead man's skull, he eyes how you're supposedly holding in a scream. There was hardly any blood involved in the kill, so maybe your terror stems from the act and not the sight. No matter. The man he was targeting is near. It'll be over soon.

An arm slung around your shoulder, his eyes don't miss the way you flinch. Chrollo smiles at you reassuringly, sending you an implicit message that you can take it and you will take it quietly. You're his soulmate. Stomaching this is the least you can do.

Maybe he'll reward you with giving you some privileges for the time being. Perhaps some information and clarity? He didn’t tell you much, so any information he gives you will be appreciated. Well, it's not as though your reaction to hearing that you will now live with him will be a positive one.

Chrollo indifferently saunters through the corridor filled with dead bodies as though walking through a park. You hesitantly follow behind him, staying close as per his instructions. Having arrived at the target's office, Chrollo once again asks you to stay close.

It's precious how you cling to him like your life depends on it.

And it does. It absolutely does depend on him.

The door opens with a creak and the man inside clearly looks like he's seen a ghost. Trembling in fear, all he manages to do is whimper. Chrollo simply closes the door behind him, and wordlessly summons Bandit's Secret, smug at how your eyes widened at the sight of the book.

The idiot crawling on the ground knows what's coming, and he's unarmed so there's no threat to you both. Chrollo supposes that arrogant men like him are easier to take care of since they're too prideful to even keep a knife on their person.

Nonetheless, Chrollo browses through the collection of abilities thinking over what to use. You're standing right next to him, throat dry and possibly even feverish from the fear. The latter is evident from how your face looks flushed and pale.

Using an ability that would swap air with water inside his lungs wouldn't be fun since it would do a quick job. Piercing his body with multiple Nen blades and then burning his skin off would be too terrifying for your poor eyes. Killing him without Nen would be pointless because he wants you to see the possibilities of what he can do.

Hm. What to use. What to use. Maybe…

"Indoor fish."

Your eyes widen at the two fish like creatures that appear in the room, floating. Without removing his eyes from the man, Chrollo gives you a warning. "If you don't want to be eaten alive, you will need to be in physical contact with me, dear."

A lie, but he wants to see your reaction.

Despite you desperately grabbing his free hand, you immediately close your eyes shut out of trepidation. The action will make you miss the point of what he's doing, so Chrollo frees his hand and pulls you in front of him by the shoulder.

Book open in one hand and the other gripping your shoulder, he calmly tells you to watch carefully, not allowing you to close your eyes for even a second. He forces you to watch the man be eaten alive by the fish, his terrified screams echoing in your mind.

Is this feeling a good one? Chrollo wonders if he's feeling victorious over his target dying or over you learning to fear his capabilities.

Ah, he was right earlier. You are feverish. He pulled you to him, back touching his chest and when he cupped your cheek, he felt wetness along with the increased temperature of your body. This night may have been too much for you, but it'll be worth it.

When the fish have eaten everything except for the man's head and half his torso, Chrollo closes Bandit's Secret and watches as his body collapses into a sad pile of flesh. You stifle a scream at the sight, and Chrollo briefly wonders if you felt this when you killed a man yourself.

His curiosity won’t be sated for a while. You've collapsed as well, so he can't ask you now. Well, off to the hotel you go. If you wake up soon, he’ll simply act as though nothing of importance transpired in the past few hours. It should throw you off into lowering your guard.

…

Seems like your legs had given out, not your consciousness. Chrollo’s thought process goes on auto-pilot and before he realises, he’s on his knees as well. The absolutely terror-stricken look on your face stirs something within him; however, an urge to remove you from this death filled environment is trampled by the urge to ruin you further, the latter winning solely because he let it.

He had squashed the will to soothe you like an insignificant insect and failed to dig up any remorse for the action. Even now as you frantically try to regain your bearings, the only thing on Chrollo’s mind is that this outing has ensured that you will never step up to him, and it is absolutely imperative that you do not. The reason is something Chrollo adamantly refuses to acknowledge.

Thus, like he always has, he will steal everything from you. Even if you are his soulmate, his destined other half. From you, he will steal your future and entwine it with his own no matter how.

The domesticity of waking up your beloved as sunlight falls on their face. Ah, such bliss. The curtains aren’t completely drawn, so some rays of sunlight peak through the gaps and fall onto your face. It's a sight that Chrollo would have ingrained into his mind if he wasn't confident that he'd be seeing it again often.

It may be that his arrogance will be his downfall but why not uphold it for the time being?

If it does not aid in anything else, it certainly makes the moment you flutter your eyes open all the more rewarding.

It’s not like he woke you up. You roused from sleep all on your own, and now you’re staring at him in confusion. Like you’re still dreaming. A switch flips inside you and you recoil backwards, putting some distance.

You’re simply being dramatic. On your insistence he had to sleep on the sofa, yet now you have the gall to react this way? Preposterous!

“Good morning to you too, dear.”

Chrollo’s greeting is accompanied with a smug smile, and you seem to have to hold yourself back from spitting something unsavoury.

“You…!”

“Contrary to what you may be assuming, I assure you that I woke up on the sofa. I merely came here to wake you up, that’s all.”

You squint your eyes at him in assessment. “Did you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Alright.” You settle down and sit yourself at the side opposite to which you woke up since it’s currently occupied by the man who’s become your captor. A question pops into your mind, and you voice it before you forget. “Chrollo, why do the pillows smell like my perfume?”

“...”

“It’s a little cree-”

“I forgot to get them washed.”

Sure he did.

In one smooth motion, Chrollo is on his feet and out of the room. However, he backtracks to the doorframe, giving you a sly look before he pulls out his trump card with the smirk of a man who knows he's won.

In your somewhat vulnerable state from having just woken up, your eyes slightly widen at how he leans against the doorframe, arm raised above his head and resting on the doorframe as well. When your eyes land on his halfway unbuttoned shirt and bare forehead beautifully accentuated with loose hair, you immediately look away, eyes still as wide as saucers.

Intrigued at the reaction, Chrollo makes a mental note to go through the list of quirks and actions he made while reading those books you like. Maybe the time wasn't wasted after all.

It’s past noon now, and the dark haired man who holds a book in his hand while leisurely manspreading on the sofa refuses to give you any information. Well, you did learn something new. Chrollo covered his forehead because of a tattoo. What that tattoo is, you don’t know because all that he gave you for an answer was a smile.

His original aim at seating himself so disorderly was to force physical contact between you both. After last night’s date, you had avoided speaking to him and graced him with yelling when he attempted to share the bed with you. He understands why you would want to build up a level of trust to sleep together, but why avoid confrontation?

It’s absurd. Even forcing you to sit on the other end was a hassle. He even went through the trouble of packing some of your belongings and bringing them over late into the night so that you would be more comfortable in the morning after having to sleep in the same clothes you had worn for an entire day.

Chrollo has an idea about the questions that are brewing in your mind, but figured that his considerate gesture would act as a breaking point that would lead to you giving in and talking.

However, observing how you blankly stare at the wall, Chrollo closes his book and takes matters into his own hands. He remains extra careful to keep his voice gentle to soothe you into a feeling of security, to make you believe that you are safe and that he will take care of you despite what he had demonstrated the previous night .

“Did I pack everything of importance?"

You don't bother moving a muscle when you reply. "Yeah."

Grey eyes narrow at your disinterested body language, deciding to poke and prod a little. "Alright. If I missed anything, tell me and I’ll get it by tonight.”

“If the police are looking for me, then why do you keep going back there?”

Bait taken.

Now, reel it in, Chrollo.

“Mm. Maybe,” he rests his cheek on his fist, back leaned on the armrest, “it’s because no one’s looking for you.”

Something snaps inside you, and Chrollo can’t decipher what emotion it is that you’re displaying with that expression. Breath caught in your throat, he can see your eyes start to accumulate tears, brows furrow in what he recognises as confusion, and teeth clench as a sign of rage. Is it fury that you are experiencing? Your eyes show sadness and brows confusion, so which is it?

“What… do you mean?”

Chrollo decides to answer your question, faking a pensive expression. “Well, I never informed the police of anything to begin with, so I’m certain that no one is looking for you.”

“No one?!” You’re closer now, right in front of him in fact. “Not even my family? My parents?”

“It’s hardly been a day.”

“Then why…”

He braces for your yelling, so he’s obviously surprised when your question comes out as a whisper instead.

“Then why did you do all that?”

Yes. Why did he? Why did he go through the trouble of cleaning up your mess and then lie to you about reporting it? Why did he choose this path when a relationship was inevitable considering your subtle yet clear interest in him?

Well, it’s quite simple actually.

“I wanted you all to myself.” Chrollo leans forward and closer to you before he continues. “Your existence is key to understanding myself. You still have nightmares about killing that man, don’t you? I can’t even remember the face of whoever’s life I’ve taken.”

His hand cups your cheek, and the action feels akin to a searing hot piece of iron being placed on your skin. It’s a detestable gesture at the moment but you let him do as he pleases.

“Such a fragile being is bound to me by fate. So fragile, in fact, that she has to justify her sin by calling the man guilty so as to not let her own guilt take over.”

You flinch at the mention of the murder, but Chrollo’s grip is merciless and he keeps you under his hand. As he keeps staring into your petrified eyes, he moves closer, and closer until all you can see are his eyes.

“Tell me, darling. How did he scream? Was it desperate or spiteful? Was the smell of blood intoxicating or revolting?”

“Stop it-”

“What went through your head as you watched him die? How did it feel to see his limbs fly away from his body?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

The first few tears that manage to escape are promptly wiped away by his other hand. Before he resumes his verbal onslaught, he makes it a point to grab your face with both hands and force you to look him in the eye.

“You’re no better than I am. You continued on with life as though nothing had happened. I can’t say I’m unimpressed.”

His half-hearted compliment causes you to do a complete 360 degree turn, and Chrollo realises that he has found a little foible that he can exploit. You’re too emotional if provoked even the slightest bit and always ready to declare what you’re feeling.

“If I never met you, then all that would never have happened!”

However, sometimes those declared feelings can sting worse than even the deepest cuts with lemon squeezed on top of it.

“So I am responsible for you deciding to kill someone?”

“You were the one to put those destructive uses of my Nen into my head. You… you orchestrated all this!”

Chrollo finally lets go of your face but doesn’t avert his eyes. If anything, he looks at you more attentively now.

“Pointing fingers usually is seen as an act of denying responsibility for your actions, but in this case your finger points to the real culprit. You've caught me. How many years must I now serve, judge [Name]?”

His comment infuriates you further. Clenching your fists, you gather all your malice and concentrate it in your glare, malice oozing from your very eye sockets.

“Chrollo Lucilfer,” you say, “I wish I died before ever having the misfortune of meeting you!”

“Unfortunately for you- wait.”

As much as the admittal hurts, Chrollo’s mind focuses on another pressing matter. He never told you his full name which can only mean…

“[Name], I’m afraid I'm cutting your little tantrum short and as much as I wanted to refrain from anything premarital, I hope you understand when I ask you this. Show me where my name is on your body.”

Like a little child, you protectively wrap your arms around your body, shaking your head profusely in rebellion. “No way!”

“Is it somewhere you don’t want me to see?”

“No!” You stop shaking but your arms are still the same. “It’s not there anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen it ever since I got here.”

Ah. That’s because you no longer have Nen. Unlike you, he can use it perfectly fine.

“Where,” Chrollo demands.

Begrudgingly, you turn around, arms now hanging at your sides and legs crossed. “It’s… on my lower back. You can have a look but only this once.”

Hesitantly, Chrollo lifts the fabric of your shirt, unsure of what he may see despite knowing exactly what he will. His eyes widen at the sight. His name, Chrollo Lucilfer, is right there on the small of your back. As though in disbelief, he traces each letter with his index finger, ignoring the way you shiver at the touch.

“Hey, Chrollo?” Voice meek, you don’t turn your head to look at him, speaking sitting as you are. “Why did you lie to me about the police?”

His eyes don’t budge from the sight of his name. “To be frank, I wanted to see your reaction.”

“If your little prank is over, can I go home? I’m sure my parents are worried.”

Somehow, the mention of your family causes an ugly feeling to bloom in Chrollo’s chest. He covers you with your shirt, eyes still fixed on your lower back. Chrollo will try again, and this time he will be clear.

“I’m afraid that you’ll be living with me from now on.”

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hunter x reader

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