#hxh brainrot

[zurenie]

ok i really liked this one it hit hard for inspo

drop some hcs here and i might draw em :)

[tht0nesimp]

Cold- Yan!Feitan

tw: Mentions of torture, feitan is a warning in himself, you really like peaches

This wasn’t fair. But then again, life isn’t fair? Is it? You questioned for the millionth time as your arms laid limp in the metal chains holding them just a bit too far up to the ceiling to be comfortable

When you’d first gotten here, prayers and promises were all that could pass through your already fragile mind struggling to believe that this experience is truly real. But alas, no matter how hard you screamed, pinched, or cried, the reality of your Situation never changed

you were still hanging by your wrists just barely above the cold concrete floor instead of being on your couch listening to music or poems or sleeping, doing anything that Didn’t cause as much pain, Albeit the only thing that kept you from thinking this was the worst possible outcome was the bloody screams coming faintly from the other side of the small area you were in, the only thing keeping you from the rest of the concrete basement was a few thick dividers somewhat resembling what you would see dividing patients at a hospital

there was a small cot next to you with a thin blanket on it, worn out and as much as you would love to lay down on it, it looks like it’s barely 10 pounds from falling in on itself. The only other thing with you in this small corner of the-Barely-closed off room was a rusted sink covered in all sorts of liquids as well as unidentifiable stains

He rarely talked to you, he either came to hurt you to watch you (Sometimes the latter), More than likely a cruel tactic to break down your “tough” psyche which hadn’t quite crumbled down on itself yet. He was asking someone questions, the screams were somewhat faint to your delight as it Meant you wouldn’t have to hear the man plead for his life today

The noises eventually come to a stop, And footsteps slowly make stop infront of the divider. His shoes visible for a moment before the divider moves and suddenly your body hits the freezing grey floor

“Up.” He speaks with slight annoyance, adrenaline seemed to let your tired legs shakily stand. “Hm” he stared at the cot and held his hand out for a moment, doing something you couldn’t see, “Lay down” he points to the cot and seems rather pleased that you wearily lay on it

It doesn’t collapse but it creaks “I’ll get a new one tomorrow” his monotone voice barely reaches you “Thank you” the feeling of laying down even if it was just with a thin blanket was refreshing beyond belief. “Don’t try anything, or you’ll get to see first hand what happens” He warns

“Yes sir” the words come out dry from days without water or food “It’s feitan” he moves the divider quickly and suddenly hes gone. It takes a few hours for you to even be able to get up and stretch your legs, you approach the old sink attached to the wall at the bottom of the cot-The thought would have made you sick before this last week or so but it barely even made your mind in the desperate mood you were in

you put your hand under the weak stream of water trickling from the leaky faucet, taking a gulp of the cold water was pure bliss. After a few more rabid gulps you were able to turn off the sink before sitting back down on the cot

you were so focused on the water that you neglected to realize feitan stood behind you, watching the animalistic behavior with a surprised look hiding behind his cowl. You immediately look down in slight shame, mixed with fear of how he might react

“hmm, thirsty, huh?” He teased while looking at the sink for a moment “Uh…yeah” your voice comes out weaker than you hoped it would “I might replace the sink eventually” if you were delusional than you might have actually believed him

You spared him your seeming belief in the form of a thin smile, your mind much more worried about how your going to get out of this hellhole. Feitan stared for what felt like an eternity before he walks away once more into the surrounding room- The only difference was that the divider was not returned to its closed off form and instead is open

You clumsily stumbled out, Looking around the rest of the room, There was someone shaking in the corner as if they were freezing but you ran past them and towards the wooden steps that creaked when you ran up them to reach the upstairs of his house. Your greeted by feitan sitting at a table next to a small kitchen, on the other side of the table is a living room with a small old couch sitting facing a small TV

“Brave one…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear from the top step, the dusty glass goor closed behind you as your feet meet the near freezing wooden floors of the dining room. “Sit, Hungry?” He calmly asks with a slight hint of pity at seeing your shaky steps towards the chair across from him

“Yeah…” you look down at your lap but it just makes him chuckle and get up, placing a peach in front of you with surprising gentleness. “Thank you” it takes all of your effort not to immediately sink your teeth into the soft fruit in-front of you until he sits down across from you, the little self control you managed to uphold tore to pieces when you looked down at the fruit again

It wasn’t peach season, but the thought barely crossed your mind as the fruit was gone in mere seconds. Feitan laughed at the once more ravenous behavior in a way that made your cheeks light up pink from shame

“Your as pink as the peach was” he mumbles before throwing the pit in the trash without even looking, watching the slight amazement on your face with pride.

He propped his elbows up on the table and held his head in his hand “I’m gonna ask you questions, your gonna answer honestly” out of some small confidence you had the curiosity to ask “If I don’t?” feitan sighs and his eyes narrow at you

“then you can say goodbye to the cot, for a long,long, time”

[genderwip]

trans shizuku icons for day 8 of pride month ! >___< they match with the feitan ones because they’re literally me and @angelthingy ..

[boeybite]

you guys can’t tell me Ging isn’t like that-

Quick silly video <33!

[ddarker-dreams]

Hugging Preferences.

Chrollo is a deeply possessive man. His destitute upbringing taught him that anything valuable would be eyed, coveted, and potentially stolen. While he doesn’t view you as an object, suppressing this belief system doesn’t come naturally. You’ll notice his demeanor is softer in private but more handsy in public. Specifically, he likes pulling you into a side hug. This amorous display makes it clear to everyone that you’re unavailable. Depending on the situation, it isn’t always a full-blown hug; he’s content with having his hand on your waist when walking together. This serves the additional purpose of granting him peace of mind. It’ll be easier to move you out of harm’s way should his many enemies ever strike. 

Satoru couldn’t be normal about you if he tried. If you’ve been separated for any length of time, the instant he lays eyes on you, you’re getting scooped up and spun around. You’re held hostage until his demands are met (the ransom ranging from kisses to mushy declarations of your undying love). And yes, he will do this in front of others. Little Megumi once started walking himself home after witnessing Satoru’s flagrant disregard for public decency. Theatrical as his actions may come across, there’s a real sense of relief on his part. He doesn’t have to be the strongest, the pride of the Gojo clan, or anything else around you. You’re truly the closest thing to heaven on earth. 

Despite his vehement denial, physical affection flusters Scaramouche. He isn’t used to it. Being around you makes him feel all weird and warm, like his cognition’s malfunctioning. This doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your touch, but it’s a struggle. Insecurities and doubts plague him. Attachment is a frightening thing, especially after the abandonment he’s experienced. He’s most honest with his desires when asleep. He reaches out subconsciously, his countenance contorting in displeasure until you’re securely in his grasp. Scaramouche clings to you throughout the night. Come morning, mortification settles in. You’re quite literally caged in his embrace. He’ll rapidly shoot out excuses, his face red as a cherry, failing to realize he still hasn’t released you. This doesn’t help strengthen his arguments. 

Blade is more touchy-feely than one might expect. He’d gone so long without positive emotions, but that changed with your debut into his life. If you’re both in the same area, there’s a 90% chance he’s fighting the urge to just… squeeze you. It’s akin to cute aggression. You enter his line of sight and his dopamine skyrockets. The first few times this happened, he mistook the rush for an onset of mara, it’s that intense. There’s little indication of this inner battle from his body language — he appears as apathetic as ever. When you turn your back to him though, he pounces, hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your head. Good luck getting anything done because he’s here to stay. 

[illubean]

Hello!! I absolutely love all your Chrollo works, and I had a lil thought that I cannot help myself from requesting, 🫶🫶

Chrollo with a s/o who just walks around the house in only her panties and a t-shirt (let’s be real, it’s most likely his)

Chrollo with S/o who walks around in underwear and his t-shirt

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Mainly Fluff, Headcanons, Gn!Reader

mueheheh I wasn't sure how far you wanted me to go with this so I kept it on the milder side >_< also it's another short one...lol..

Warnings: suggestive

before moving in with you Chrollo didn't know about your lounging habits

so when he comes home after a long day to see you in nothing but his oversized t-shirt and some underwear? oh boy does it get him going

he'll wrap his arms around your waist and plant kisses on the crook of your neck

"i think that shirt looks better on you than it does me, darling"

he likes sliding his hands underneath the shirt to feel you up (which may or may not have led to something else ;) )

Chrollo is a thigh man and I will stand by that to my grave so seeing you in minimal clothing like this is one of his favorite things

he started casually leaving some of his old shirts around just for you to take them

after he gets used to this he'd greet you with a kiss and a slap on the ass when you walk by

he likes to sit on the couch with you in his lap, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hand caressing your thigh

he likes planting sweet kisses on your face while holding you like this

there's just something so endearing about you wearing his clothes

he probably pinches your legs occasionally to see you jump or to get on your nerves

since you're comfortable walking around bottomless around the house Chrollo eventually starts walking around shirtless

is it comfortable to him? yes, but is he also trying to get a reaction out of you? absolutely

even if you don't comment on it he knows exactly what he's doing to you ;))

[ofalltheginjoints]

Hunter X Hunter | Guts x and x Courage

[jaguarys]

I think it is SOOOO FASCINATING that Hisoka and Illumi are the first villains that you see because they're such good representations of the pitfalls of Hunter society. On the one hand you get Hisoka, who represents this overindulgence. Where you get to a point where you're powerful enough you lose the perspective of people on the ground. Where you start to believe no one matters unless they can match you. Where you no longer have to follow rules, where you can do whatever you want whenever you want because who's going to stop you? And then on the other Illumi is this hyperawareness and paranoia of knowing, no matter how far you get, no matter how powerful you become, that there will always be people stronger than you. And you might as well just roll over and take it and never try to be anything more than that because there will always be people greater than you. Both of them have failed, and they don't even realize it

[awsmmasa]

the boysss

[rotten-pomegranate]

rough sex with chrollo? he snaps after months of rejecting and avoiding him

Yes

Warnings: Noncon, rough sex, yandere, forced imprisonment, hair pulling, degradation

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

It was right after uvogin died and the troupe was in shambles months after he had taken and imprisoned you

He gets home and just try’s to hug you at first but when you keep pushing him away he snaps

He grabs you by the hair and throws you on the ground telling you all about how nice he was, letting you do what you want, letting you get away with all the attitude and how it wouldn’t be sliding anymore

He grabs you by the hair again and pulls you into the bedroom still talking about how you had so many chances to live him all the way there

When he gets there he throws you on the bed and just rips all you cloths off so he can tie your hand and feet to the bed frame

He gives you a long talk before he actually gets on top of you and unbuckles his belt to take his cock out

He’s gonna prep you and talk you through the whole thing but it won’t make it hurt any less because he’s still forcing himself on you like your nothing and he can do whatever he wants

When you try to wiggle away from him he goes crazy and just starts fucking you, gripping you hip with one hand while the other is wrapped around your neck as a constant reminder who’s the boss in this scenario

When he’s done you gonna have bruised thighs, a sore throat, dry eyes from all the crying and visible bruises all about your body but the worst will be the shame that lingers from being taken by someone you hate

He’ll just leave you there tied to the bed with no blankets on while he goes to clean himself and then goes to sleep in his room with you still there

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[bbonnenuit]

The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

 “Daydreaming again, I see?”

   It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm. 

   You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas. 

  You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor. 

   You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic. 

   “The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding. 

     Silence falls over the two of you again.

   You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away. 

   “Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.  

   “I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself. 

   Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright? 

  You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion. 

   So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

   Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though. 

   Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic. 

   Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

   “What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid. 

   “Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice. 

   What an ironic song and artist of choice. 

    It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself. 

   “Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?” 

 Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song. 

   “Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point. 

   You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.” 

   He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

   So he does like it! 

   “Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

   “Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you. 

  “Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.” 

   Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind.  But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure. 

  Chrollo finally speaks,  “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

  “Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

  He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.” 

   No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress. 

   Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

   You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?” 

   “You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.” 

  He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.” 

  It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

   “And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.” 

   Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing. 

  You can barely handle it. 

   “Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.” 

   …

   “Pardon?’ 

   “The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation.  Chrollo does not share the same sentiment. 

  Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

   “Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’ 

   "I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

    He sighs like it’s obvious,  “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.” 

    “I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

   You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation. 

   “These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’.  I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

   …Or so you thought. 

   “So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’. 

   Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt. 

   “So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.” 

   Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow. 

  “Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

  You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing… 

  “I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?” 

  “Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

   He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?” 

   “You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

   “Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.” 

   “Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!” 

   Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over. 

   Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

   You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it. 

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.” 

   He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on,  the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop. 

  “You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind. 

  “Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear… 

  …

  “Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?” 

   He just sighs. 

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

[zurenie]

MY HEEAAARRRTT UGHHH I LOVE THIS HC I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT

drop ur hcs here and i might draw em :3

[tazzertopia]

phantom troupe: do they snore?

this idea for phantom troupe hcs came to me randomly at 2:00am last night so enjoy xoxo

chrollo

-probably not unexpected but not really

-he’s generally a super quiet sleeper

-the loudest he ever is in his sleep is breathing loudly on occasion

-his lack of snoring is most likely attributed by the fact he’s a very light sleeper

-he’s one of those bitches who will wake up because the whistling of the wind was slightly louder than usual

uvogin

-his ass sounds like a heavy metal concert when he sleeps

-his snores are earth-shaking. ear-splitting. pain-inducing.

-his snores single handedly contribute to noise pollution

-think of how loud your dad snores and x1000

-if the troupe members have to share a room at any point during a mission, they will throw a whole rock paper scissors tournament to see who’s taking one for the team and sacrificing their sleep (it’s usually nobunaga)

-because covering his mouth with a sock doesn’t stop the snoring, the troupe have an emergency weighted blanket on standby

-the complete opposite of chrollo, this man could sleep in an active war zone and and not budge an inch (in other words you cannot wake his ass up by force to get him to stop snoring so the only option is to wait it out or sleep somewhere else)

pakunoda

-the most silent sleeper ever

-not even a peep from miss pakunoda

-the ideal person to share a bed with. she doesn’t snore, her breathing is inaudible and she’s extremely still

-almost unnerving in a way bc she looks dead when she sleeps

-if you were to share a bed with her you’d probably spend most of the night checking her pulse to ensure she is actually alive and breathing

phinks

-he’s one of those people who when he snores the buildup is super loud but he exhales quietly (i hope that makes sense)

-ljke the buildup is super dragged out like hhhHhhhhhhUUUHHHUUUH but the exhale is just hoooooooo !!

-idk how to express snoring via text so you may have to act it out to know what i mean

-honestly this type of snoring is arguably worse than uvogin’s bc at least his is consistent whereas phinks will give you hope that he’s finally stopped snoring until it starts up again ☹️☹️😢

-he will forever deny he snores tho

feitan

-comedic ass snore

-probably snores like mimimimimimimimi zzzzzzzzz 😴💤😴💤😴💤

-he sleeps like he should be wearing a night cap and a long night gown with a candle on his bedside table

-trying not to piss yourself laughing while he’s snoring if you’re still awake is an olympic level sport

-one time shalnark recorded him while he was snoring and showed it to him (when he was down with him, he ensured the recording was eradicated from his phone)

-ik realistically he would probably be a silent sleeper but the idea of him sounding like a whole cartoon character is actually hilarious to me

shalnark

-sleep? WHAT’S THAT? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣 (get it because he’s the tech whiz so he probably stays up all night gaming lololololol XDD)

-probably a loud ass mouth breather

-like he sounds like a broken ventilator sometimes

-he sounds like he ran a lap around mt everest before bed why is he so loud

-if you pissed him off during the day he would probably amp up the volume on his breathing to prevent you from sleeping well (now we’re both mad xx)

shizuku

-for the most part very quiet

-occasionally she will jumpscare you awake by randomly snoring out of no where

-like you’ll wake up to this loud ass noise only to realise it was just shizuku

-sometimes she’ll wake up aswell and accuse you of snoring

-aside from that pretty quiet- not as ideal to share a bed with as pakunoda but fine for the most part as long as you don’t mind surprises

nobunaga

-i feel like he’d have one of those super low growly snores ???????

-like those low, shaky ones

-the ones that kinda sound like grunts

-idk if i’m making sense so i pray i am 🙏

-they’re not that bad tho bc they’re quiet enough to not keep you awake and are low-key kinda relaxing

-if you’re gonna share a bed with anyone who snores, it’s nobunaga

machi

-another generally quiet sleeper except for occasionally sighing in her sleep

-from time to time she’ll just go like huhhhhhhhh :// and then will go back to being quiet again

-don’t bring it up the next day tho bc she WILL deny it and seem embarrassed

-you can tell when she’s having a nice dream based on how often she sighs

franklin

-surprisingly quiet

-you wouldn’t expect his oversized enormous ass to be quiet but he is

-similar to chrollo, the most you’re getting out of him is some occasionally loud breathing

-aside from that he’s a quiet sleeper

bonolenov

-i feel like bc of the holes in his body he’d probably make a whistling sound in his sleep

-like a pan flute

-not the worst tho bc like nobunaga it’s low high key relaxing

-free asmr what could be better xxx

kortopi

-quiet as hell

-are we really surprised

-sorry to the two kortopi fans out there but i can’t be bothered to think of anything to add on he’s just quiet

another tazzertopia classic 💯💯💯💯 if you like these hc posts pls give me requests (idk if the ask box is visible on my profile but do it through here or via the comments) bc these are super fun, i can also do other characters too !!! if i do more i might start doing them for other shows anyways bye xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

[genderwip]

I have no maternal instincts towards anyone except my cat and my two fictional sons

[ddarker-dreams]

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun. 

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes. 

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way. 

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat. 

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore. 

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread. 

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do. 

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation. 

“Bored?” Feitan asks. 

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation. 

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—” 

He flicks your forehead, silencing you. 

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.” 

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression. 

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail. 

You’ve felt this before. 

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape. 

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute. 

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last. 

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey. 

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of— 

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?” 

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small. 

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?” 

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of. 

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak. 

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy. 

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long. 

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you. 

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets. 

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss. 

Especially those regarding you. 

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck. 

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. 

Almost. 

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders. 

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer. 

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.” 

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.” 

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.” 

“There’s more to take care of?” 

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.” 

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.” 

“Explains what, dear?” 

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?” 

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process. 

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand. 

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle. 

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him. 

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.” 

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you. 

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely. 

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.” 

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic. 

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without. 

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.” 

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.” 

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.” 

The aforementioned man grunts. 

Chrollo spares you a long, final look. 

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile. 

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

[imisssummer]

𖤐 — nsfw, drugs, alcohol, dubious consent (both r high), idk might not be coherent i’m a lil high ngl

I feel like Chrollo’s the type to get really overly horny while he’s high, like one second you’ll be snorting lines with him, and next you’re on your back with his hard dick pressed against your pussy. He doesn’t get high often (his job doesn’t exactly let him do fuck all whenever he wants), but when he does he goes all out, not only for himself— but for you as well. He personally likes coke above all, but whatever you want he’ll get it— marijuana, pills, LSD, whatever you want, name it, and he’ll get it. He’ll have a bottle of wine and a shot of liquor waiting for you to wash down your Xanax or smoke. Snorting back-to-back lines it’s no wonder Chrollo’s as hard as a rock when he rubs against your slowly dampening cunt, and you’re just as high as he is, movements slowing, mind numb, and just as needy. He dives down to kiss you, liquor seeping through his spit, the kiss is porn worthy, all teeth, spit, and tongue clashing dangerously hard. He’s pulling at your bottoms with such vigor and speed it has you gasping into his mouth, and then you’re grabbing at his belt buckle, nimble fingers thumbing to get his pants down. You both meet in the middle with Chrollo thrusting into you, he finds himself groaning into your ear as you moan into his. He loves having sex with you already, but being high while doing it? That’s a whole different feeling for him. He loves it and doesn’t think he’ll be giving it up anytime soon.

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