#phantom x oc

[library-ghoulette]

Shotgun Lover

Pairing: Phantom x Original Female Character, Copia x Original Female Character, implied Phantom x Everyone Rating: Explicit, MDNI Words: 11,965 Summary: Just say it, I'm yours... Phantom knows that his crush on Sister Beatrice is hopeless. She's Papa's wife, completely off-limits, and she would never be interested in him anyway, right? But when she invites him to participate in a fantasy Copia confessed to her, it's hard not to wish that things might not be so hopeless, after all. A/N: It's done! This fic consumed my every waking thought for a week, and I love it so much, and I hope that you love it, too. Dedicated to @karmicbias for the enthusiastic support of my bug-induced debauchery. 💜

You can read this fic in full on ao3. Because of recent events--fuck AI--it is locked to registered users... as the rest of my fics will be soon.

Teaser:

Beatrice loves nights like these. It's been a long, stressful week, but Copia scored a fresh bag of weed from Mountain—the really good stuff, that strain he developed himself—and they spent the evening eating Chinese takeout and getting blissfully stoned. She always gets extra affectionate and horny when she smokes, and tonight's no different. It wasn't long before the slow, sloppy post-dinner makeout on the couch turned into riding Copia's thigh on the couch, which turned into him carrying her to bed for something more interesting than the movie they'd only only been half-watching.

Now she's happy and relaxed and pliable, and Copia has her legs thrown over his shoulders at the exact angle that she likes, setting a nice, steady pace that she knows is going to get her there before much longer—

"Tesoro," Copia asks between thrusts, "can I— can I ask you a question?"

Weirdly formal dirty talk, but sure. "What is it, darling?"

"What do you— think— about Phantom?"

Beatrice's eyes fly open. "What?"

"Phantom," Copia says again, still driving steadily into her. "The little— the new ghoul."

"No— I heard you— I mean—" She drops her legs down from Copia's shoulders, signaling him to stop so that they can talk, but keeps him inside. "I know who Phantom is, Copia. Why are you bringing him up now?"

Copia splays his hands on her thighs, squeezes them thoughtfully, and doesn't answer her question. "Have you maybe noticed that he's a little bit, ah, obsessed with you?"

[gravehags]

some know it lovingly - the beatrice edit

Pairing: Phantom x f!OC

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: phantom being a certified Good Boy, oral m!receiving, titty fucking, bea is having some concerning thoughts, phantom is hypermobile

Words: 2,664

Summary: What a sweetheart that Phantom is. But Beatrice knows all too well what sweetness can hide.

a/n: TITTY FUCKIN and FEELINGS: THE BEATRICE BISHOP EDITION

~~~

Beatrice untangles herself from Sunshine’s grip as quietly as possible, not wishing to disturb her. The ghoulette is still softly snoring when Beatrice locates her robe but by the time she puts it on Sunshine’s got one eye on her, the other obscured by her pillow.

“So you just hit and run, huh?” she says in a sleepy voice.

“I’m sorry,” the redhead whispers, coming back over to kiss her on the forehead, “I’ve got duties in Papa’s office today and I can’t stay.”

Pouting, Sunshine grabs her arms and yanks her back down to the comfort of the bed. Wrapping her arms around Beatrice tight she squeezes and lets out a yawn.

“Don’t go,” she murmurs into her hairline, “please.”

There’s a tenderness in her voice that makes Bea’s stomach do a flip and her heart ache. How could she possibly leave her behind after that? At the same time…the sister of sin doesn’t want to earn Papa’s ire, although he is far more easy going than some of the other retired papas. Maybe he’ll forgive her if she’s a few hours late…

“I’ll text him,” Sunshine says, seemingly sensing her worries, “he can’t say no to us.”

Beatrice scoffs lightly. “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“Because he’s a sap,” she grins before stifling another yawn, “he only wants what’s best for his ghouls. The siblings too.”

“Does he…” Beatrice asks tentatively, pulling back slightly from the embrace, “does he know about…um…me and the ghouls?”

Her face flushes as Sunshine looks at her peculiarly.

“What do you mean?” she says softly. Beatrice feels stupid for even bringing it up.

“Nevermind,” she says, returning to the ghoulette’s arms. An uneasiness settles in her belly thinking about what exactly it is she means to the ghouls. She is aware of how she feels and while they have been affectionate…what if it was just an act? What if after she’s been with all of them they disappear from her life, their interest in her gone now that they have gotten what they want? Sunshine rubs circles into her back and while it’s comforting, Beatrice’s anxiety will not let her return to sleep.

—

A week later found the sister of sin in the kitchen, putting groceries away. She’s taking oranges out of the bag when she spies someone out of the corner of her eye lurking in the doorway. A slender, dark haired ghoul with a pretty face stands there, fidgeting with his hands.

“Hey, Phantom,” Beatrice says with a smile, charmed by his clear nervousness.

“Hi,” he says, stepping into the kitchen, “Are you busy? If you’re busy I can come back.”

She laughs a little, setting down the carton of milk she’s holding.

“I’m just puttering,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing I just um…” he’s closer to her now, only a handful of feet away, and his tail twitches behind him. “Wanted to tell you you’re really pretty.”

The words come out in a rush and Beatrice blinks several times, watching a flush creep across his cheeks.

“Oh! That’s…thank you,” she’s blushing as hard as he is at this point, “you’re so sweet. You came all the way down here to tell me that?” When she reaches out to lightly grab his bicep he lets out a sigh and practically melts into her touch.

“Been thinking about doing it for a while,” he confesses, rubbing the spot on his arm her hand just left. “I’m not very good at this. Dewdrop makes fun of me because I haven’t really talked to you and I know you’re…special to the ghouls.”

Special.

His apprehension warms Beatrice’s heart and she smiles at him once more.

“Tell Dew to get fucked next time he gives you shit, please.” When he lets out a laugh and his shoulders relax, she knows she’s on the right track.

“Why don’t you help me put the rest of these groceries away and then we’ll sit and talk, yeah?”

He nods eagerly, and begins handing her items to put away.

The conversation that follows goes well into the night.

–

The next time Beatrice meets up with Phantom, it’s in the ghouls’ practice room. He invites her there to hang out - and maybe show off to her a little, she thinks as she watches his long fingers slide over the fretboard with finesse. Whatever his intention is, it’s working and the sister of sin finds herself eyeing the movement of his hands with a fire in her belly. On the whole he’s calmed down around her but she’s seen the way his gaze lingers on the low, curved neckline of her habit. Whenever she catches him looking she leans forward a little, slightly pushing her chest out and she thrills in the way his mouth hangs open and his fingers twitch. She repeats the action now and smiles a little when his fingers slip while playing.

“Phantom,” Beatrice begins quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Y-yes,” he says, setting the guitar down and rubbing his hands on his knees.

“Do you know what I’ve been doing with the other ghouls?”

He flushes deeply and avoids her eyes. “Uh…yeah. Swiss and Dewdrop like to talk about it. Talk about how…” he clears his throat, “sweet you are. How good you feel.”

Beatrice nods thoughtfully. This isn’t new information to her, but she reminds herself to have a stern talk with the two aforementioned ghouls.

“And…do you want me like that?” she asks, scooting closer to him so her knee touches his.

“Yes,” he says quietly, ears burning. “Satan, yes but I…I didn’t want to be presumptive or anything.”

She’s deeply touched by his respect for her, in addition to being moved to action. When she gently puts a hand on his thigh he spreads his legs and reveals the tent in his trousers.

“Phantom,” Beatrice says, “dear Phantom. What a good boy you are.”

The redhead watches as the words make his hips buck upwards and he lets out a little moan. Clenching her thighs together she reaches out to stroke his cheek and turn his face towards her.

“Kiss me,” she whispers and he’s on her like lightning, pulling her over to straddle his lap. She grinds down on his clothed cock before he presses his lips to hers, sliding a hand up her back. Beatrice is just as eager as he is, delighting in how smoothly his tongue slips against hers. She fists his dark hair, sliding her fingers up to rub at the base of his horns and he lets out a long, low moan. So she does it again, swallowing the sounds he makes with their sloppy kisses. When she pulls away from him, he lets out a pathetic little whine but when he sees her slide to her knees between his legs his jaw drops. Spreading his thighs, she leans forward and nuzzles against his bulge, delighting when he thrusts against her. Idly, Beatrice mouths at his cock, already noting the growing wet spot on the front of his pants. When she reaches up to unfasten his button and zipper, he eagerly lifts his ass up and shimmies his pants down his hips. With teasing slowness, she exposes his cock to the cool air of the room, admiring the deep red of the tip and the precum already dripping and sliding down the shaft. She looks up at him and smiles at the way his eyes are scrunched shut in pleasure and she hasn’t even touched him yet.

“Hey,” Beatrice murmurs, rubbing her cheek on the inside of his thigh, “Phantom. Look at me, honey.”

Ever obedient, his eyes fly open and his breathing becomes ragged as he takes in the view of the sister on her knees before him. She keeps looking up at him from under her lashes as she places a sweet kiss on the tip. The action makes his whole body shudder, and when Beatrice licks experimentally at the pre beaded in his slit he keens. Gently she wraps her hand around his veined shaft and leans in to slide her lips over the head. Suckling at the tip for a few moments, she sees Phantom’s hands white knuckling the chair out of her periphery. Still with the head of his cock resting on her tongue, she takes one of his clenched hands and guides it into her loose copper hair. She pulls off him for a moment and looks at him fondly.

“I’ve never done this before,” Beatrice says with a small smile, “tell me what feels good, okay?”

His mouth forms the words the first time but nothing comes out so he nods instead. She returns her focus back to his swollen cock and once again wraps her lips around the tip. Slowly, she bobs her head, taking more of him in with each movement. This is so different to anything she’s experienced so far - sure she had Cumulus’ strap in her mouth but it’s so very different to the hot flesh currently pumping in and out of her. Phantom’s fingers tighten in her hair, but he doesn’t move to guide her and instead is content to simply have something of her to hold on to. When Beatrice hollows her cheeks and sucks, his hips buck wildly into her mouth, causing her to gag lightly. He’s apologizing profusely from above her but in response she does it again. And again. Her eyes are watering and lips burn from the stretch as she manages to take all of him in her mouth, her nose brushing against the dark curls at his base. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, his grip on her hair almost painful, “you look so good taking all of me like that.”

It’s the filthiest he’s been so far and Beatrice is suddenly spurred on to make even more lewd things fall from his lips. She begins to pull off him, suck hard on the head, then slide her mouth back down to take all of him. She’s stuck in the rhythm of the act for a while before Phantom cries out.

“Stop! Stop please…”

Perplexed, Beatrice pulls off of him and looks at him with concern.

“Phantom? Did I do something wrong?”

He chuffs out a pathetic little laugh and hunches over himself, placing his hands on her cheeks to meet her gaze.

“Sweetheart…will you let me do something?”

She’s intrigued, to say the least.

“Yeah of course, what is it?”

He lets out another delirious little laugh and slides his thumb over her swollen lips.

“I want…I wanna fuck your tits. Please.”

Oh. Oh. When her mouth falls open he takes the opportunity to slip his thumb inside and press against her tongue. She smiles around his fingers as she suckles on the digit lightly before pulling away.

“Fuck yes, Phantom.”

In a flash, he’s standing and gesturing for her to lie flat on her back. Smoothly, he straddles her and jerks down the front of her habit and her bralette in one swift gesture. When his eyes land on her bare breasts, peppered with freckles, she feels his cock twitch against her belly. Sliding his body up to position himself, Beatrice watches his eyes roll back as he grabs at her to cradle his dick between them.

“Look so good like this,” he breathes, running his thumbs over her hardened nipples. “So fucking good for me, just like the others said.”

Beatrice reaches her hands up to press her breasts together and his hips begin to jerk forward in a steady rhythm.

“How long have you wanted me like this?” she asks, a grin curling her lips as he fucks her.

“Forever,” he moans, “since I was summoned and I saw you with the others. Something about you. So pretty. So perfect.”

She’s content to lie there and take him, leaning forward every once in a while to graze the head of him with the tip of her tongue. Suddenly he pauses his thrusting and reaches a hand backwards behind him to hitch her habit up and expose her cunt.

“What are you doing?” she asks, hands still squeezing her breasts. He tosses her a wicked little grin before sliding his hand down the front of her underwear. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Nah,” he says simply, “I’m real bendy. Don’t want to neglect you, baby.”

When his fingers dip into her slick and begin to circle her clit, her loud moan makes his hips jut forward. Suddenly the two of them are in a rhythm as he fucks her chest and fingers her clit at the same time. His body is contorted but he doesn’t seem to mind as his thrusts become faster. His fingers are moving deftly against her and she arches her back into his touch. 

“Gonna make you cum,” he pants, unceasing in his rhythm, “gonna make you cum and then I’m going to cum all over these beautiful tits.”

Beatrice begins to feel that sweet pull in her spine through her stomach and when he pinches her clit she bucks upwards, crying out.

“Phantom, fuck,” she moans, “fuck honey don’t stop, don’t stop. I’m gonna–I’m so–”

In an instant her back bows off the floor as much as it can with his weight on top of her. Her cries are loud, wanton, and undoubtedly can be heard from outside the room but she can’t bring herself to care. Phantom rubs at her through her orgasm, only slipping his hand out of her panties when her breathing begins to become steadier. Now he’s feral, both of his hands covering hers as they both push her breasts together tighter around his cock. Lifting her head up, Beatrice makes sure every pass of the tip meets her tongue and his thrusts begin to become sloppier. She knows his end is soon when he begins to let out keening whines of her name, back arching. 

“Come on Phantom,” she coos, “come on these tits, baby.”

Quickly he pulls back and takes hold of his cock, jerking it hard and fast. With a low, hoarse moan he comes in ropes across her breasts and onto her neck, his hand continuing to slide over himself until he cries out and collapses forward. When she lifts her head up to inspect the mess he’s made of her, she gathers a good amount of his seed on her forefinger and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes on his, she slips the digit in her mouth and sucks with a lewd moan. He’s saltier than she expected, but not unpleasant, and she adores the way his eyes darken at the act. After a moment he swings his legs off of her and lies down next to her on the floor.

“Did I live up to your expectations of me, love?” Beatrice inquires lightly, his cum cooling rapidly on her chest. He lets out a tired but jubilant laugh.

“You have no idea,” he says, nuzzling into her side. “The others…they always talk about how pretty you are or how good you feel but…”

“But what?”

He sighs softly, toying with her hair. “I don’t know. The ghoulettes say there’s something special about you and I believe it.”

Special. There’s that word again. The fears Beatrice had while curled up with Sunshine wane a little but not entirely. She feels like there’s something that’s been going unsaid between her and the ghouls, but she doesn’t have the energy right now to pry into it. With a groan she sits up and Phantom follows suit.

“Need a shower,” she says, adjusting her bralette and pulling her habit back up to cover herself. “Would you like to join me?”

Phantom’s tail is thumping eagerly on the ground beside him before he stands and helps her up, then tucking himself away.

“Anything you say, beautiful,” he says, following her out of the practice room.

Such a good boy, Beatrice thinks.

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Sleep Over (Ghost Oneshot)

Summary: Luna was a Sister of the Clergy; well-known and well-loved by most. She didn't talk much but she sure was good at knowing when people were down. She was also in charge of taking care of the Ghoul's Den - cleaning, restocking, laundry and more so it's safe to say she's well-known and liked by the ghouls that she often sees. So when she notices Phantom having a rough day; she puts her skills to good use to help him relax.

Prompt: "What, does that feel good?"

Workshop

Request Board

The music was playing softly in her ears from the earbuds stuck in her ears; blocking away the noise of the hallway as siblings bustled around chatting and doing their chores together. She was oblivious to her surroundings as she swept the walkway while softly humming the song she listened to under her breath; she was blissfully unaware of the figure that was approaching from behind while her gaze focused on the broom that she effortlessly moved back and forth as she cleaned up the stones of the debris of fallen autumn leaves that fell from the trees and swept through the lawn; the weather was beautiful despite it being early October and the chill of Autumn hadn't fully kicked into full gear leaving some of Summer to give beautiful calm mornings such as today. When a hand gently touched her shoulder Luna spun around with a gasp of surprise nearly knocking over the figure that stood behind her looking just as startled.

"Marie! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come up!" the girl pulled her earbuds from her ears and gave a sheepish smile to the older woman.

Marie was an older Sister who had been at the Clergy since the beginning of the Church and worked closely with Sister Imperator. Marie always struck Luna as a serious woman with a hidden soft spot for some of the younger Siblings but Luna never had an issue with her before even when her presence made her a little nervous.

"No, that's alright. I was just coming over here to inform you that the Ghouls have gone to practice and it's laundry day." she informed clasping her hands in front of her and giving Luna a pointed look.

The girl blinked at her a moment before her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh yes of course! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot." her cheeks heated red.

"I'll get on it as soon as I'm done here!" she added quickly as she gripped her broom.

"Very good." Marie gave a nod before she turned and headed back up the path.

Luna blew out a breath before returning to her work; her hands a bit jittery now as she finished up sweeping. She loved working in the ghouls' den but they made her nervous. Despite being a friendly but quiet person and working around the ghoul den for a while now doing some manual tasks for them; she didn't really interact with them much even if they tried to initiate contact. It was a rule that most siblings shouldn't be encouraged to seek out interactions with the ghouls but as one of the very few selected to deal with chores in their personal space, Luna had the opportunity to have those moments.

The ghouls fascinated her and she'd heard them play once or twice as she passed by the rehearsal space while going to and fro from chores and loved their music and skill but it was something personal and a little intimate to be within their personal quarters. She hadn't been on this job for long - maybe a few weeks at most but it always gave her a thrill when it was her day to work within their space.

When she was done with her sweeping she quickly put away her broom only to trade it in for the supply cart in the hallway before making her way down the hall towards the ghoul's den. She knew by Marie's previous words that they were at practice but just out of habit and respect she knocked; when she didn't hear a response as expected she entered with a spare key she had for the door - a key highly coveted and given to a very rare selected few; exchanged between only the two people who did the chores around the ghouls wing.

Luna entered pulling the cart in with her but just as she was closing the door she heard a noise behind her and spun around in surprise - no one was supposed to be in here but her at this time. Her cheeks heated when she spotted a shirtless Rain stepping out of the bathroom in the hallway who now stopped in utter shock like a deer in the headlights of a car.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Luna spun around while slapping a hand over her eyes. "N-no one was supposed to be in here at this hour!" she felt her cheeks heat up again that reached to her ears that burned hot.

"Sorry! Luna right?" Rain said laughing nervously.

"N-no it's okay! Uh yes. You know my name?" Luna stammered nervously.

"Well, yeah. You are here at least twice a week. Kind of hard not to notice." Rain chuckled as he wiped his face from the water droplets running from his hair.

"Uh yeah..." Luna smiled slightly at the knowledge they knew her by name. "Again, I'm sorry for intruding. I was just here to grab laundry for wash day and see if there was anything needed restocking; I can come back later if-"

"Ain't it our little birdie coming back huh? Is it laundry day already?" Swiss' voice came from behind Luna and she jumped not having heard him come out.

"You know you don't have to look away all the time; we're okay with you seeing our faces doll." Swiss laughed as he gripped her shoulder causing her to hesitantly drop her hand and raise her eyes to meet his.

He was smiling down at her with his signature Swiss smile. "See, we aren't that scary." he patted her shoulder.

"If you don't mind my asking...what are you guys doing back?" she subconsciously looked down at her digital watch on her wrist in confusion.

"Papa wasn't feeling good; still hungover from the night before and Phantom also had a headache so we cut it short today." Rain said.

Luna turned around with a concerned look on her face. "Oh? If Phantom needs something I can go grab him some painkillers or something else. Whatever you guys need let me know!" she smiled slightly and clasped her hands together.

"B-but if you don't mind; I'll go ahead and grab your laundry if you have any?" she added

"Yeah, sure. Thanks birdie!" Swiss grabbed one of the totes from her cart and headed for his room to grab his laundry.

Rain smiled slightly as he placed his wet towel into another tote before pointing down the hall. "If you don't mind Luna, would you mind going to check in on Phantom?" he began grabbing some items from her cart to restock the bathroom.

"What? No hey wait that's my job!" she tried grabbing back the items

"Tsk. Stop, we are capable of maintaining our own space. You hush." he bopped her on the nose playfully with a warm smile before he headed for the steam-filled bathroom.

Luna stared flabbergasted; what was she supposed to do with Phantom? She didn't have anything to give him...but maybe she could get him something if he needed it - she'd have to ask him. Gathering up her courage knowing that she was pretty much breaking a rule by initiating conversations with the ghouls at this point she headed down the hall.

Dewdrop and Mountain were nowhere to be seen but Phantom's door was open a crack and dark inside. She politely knocked before nudging the door open.

"Phantom...I'm sorry to disturb you but...Rain asked me to check in on you. I'm Luna...I'm here to grab your laundry for wash day. The others said you weren't feeling well. Do you need anything?" she asked softly as she stood at the threshold peering into the darkened room.

She could make out a lean figure sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and her heart pinched in sympathy. He didn't say anything at first and she thought perhaps he hadn't heard her but then his head lifted and his tired eyes gleamed from the light in the hallway; he didn't look so good.

"Oh, you don't look well, do you?" she murmured as she walked in with tentative steps and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Can I grab you anything? A glass of water or maybe something from the nurse's office for your headache? Just tell me what you need."

She was surprised that instead of pushing her away or telling her to leave Phantom actually wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her stomach to hold her tight. Her hands hovered awkwardly not sure what to do but she could tell how his body seemed to relax against her and she smiled slightly as she rested a hand on his head. Softly carding her fingers through his thick dark hair. This elicited a chittering sound of contentment that ended on a groan as her fingers softly scratched at his scalp.

"What, does that feel good?" she laughed softly as she continued to do that.

"Why do you always smell good?" Phantom grumbled against her as he closed his eyes at the feeling of her hands in his hair. "You always smell good, you always sound so pretty, and you have a calming presence." it was almost a grumble at this point and Luna felt her cheeks flush with a blush at the compliments.

"I-I don't know." she replied "Thank you though..."

Biting her lip she glanced at the door and nudged at the ghoul's shoulder. "But really, do you need anything? I don't know what ghouls can take that'll actually work for headaches but-"

"Just you. Just stay like this with me a little bit longer." Phantom's grip tightened on her as if he was afraid she'd pull away. "You're helping my headache go away."

"Phantom...." her voice softened as she gazed down at him with a small smile. "I have to grab laundry you know..."

"Fuck laundry." the quintessence ghoul tipped backwards causing Luna to fall with him on top of his chest. Phantom maneuvered her the way he liked; scooting her up the bed to his pillows before stretching out across her body while resting his head against her chest. He was sure to hear the pounding of her heart but he didn't seem to mind as he snuggled against her like an overgrown cat.

"I-I can't stay Phantom...I'm already breaking a rule talking to you..If anyone finds out what's going on I could get in trouble." she murmured staring down at the top of his head.

"You won't get in trouble." Phantom yawned "Just lay here with me a little while longer. Please." his head lifted and his eyes stared up at her imploringly; damn those big eyes she couldn't say no.

"Alright. Ten more minutes and then I do really have to get back to work, okay?" she caved but her rewarding smile from him was worth it as he rested his head back down and her hand began combing through his locks again.

The room was silent for a while after that until Luna spoke up. "Did you mean what you said? Do I really make you feel better just by being here?" she asked biting her lip as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Mhm." Phantom nodded against her chest. "I'm a quintessence, Luna. Your aura...your very soul. I can feel it. It's like a balm that makes me feel so much better. No other drug could ever do what you do." he sighed contently as his large hand idly stroked up and down her arm draped over his back.

"I'm glad." Luna smiled into the dim room. "I don't think anybody had said that to me before." she laughed a bit at that. "No one seems to notice. I'm just that quiet girl that helps out around the Abbey." she mumbled.

"Well, you certainly do it for me." he replied giving her arm a squeeze.

"Thank you." she whispered closing her eyes.

She didn't realize it but sometime while laying there she'd fallen asleep; when her eyes finally snapped open it was to the sound of the door creaking open causing her to gasp in surprise and look at her watch.

"Oh shoot!" she jolted upright knocking Phantom off of her and jostling him awake "We fell asleep! Oh, man it's late!" she stared at the clock realizing that she'd missed out on dinner and her duties for today. "Sister Marie is going to be so mad!" she began scrambling up from the bed but an arm wrapped around her waist yanking her back down.

"Chill, hey. Calm down Birdie!" Swiss stood in the doorway with a plate of food in his hand. "We got it taken care of. She's been informed and that other sibling stopped by to grab the laundry for you. No need to panic."

"What?! No no no! It was my job, I wasn't trying to slack off."

"You weren't. You were aiding one of the ghouls. Don't sweat it." Swiss chuckled as he entered and placed a plate in her lap. "Here, got you something to eat. Just relax. You're all good." he told her

Luna looked down in surprise at the plate that held a sandwich and some fruit on the plate. "This...thank you. That was very nice of you Swiss." she gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"You weren't bothering nobody." he smirked "Although, Phantom may start bothering you instead. He's been addicted to your presence since the first day you started working this job for us." he chuckled.

"Fuck off asshole." Phantom hissed at him feeling a blush ting his cheeks.

"Alright alright. I'm gonna go watch a movie with the others. Feel free to join if you want." he offered before leaving.

"God, that's kind of embarrassing." Luna laughed covering her face. "I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. I hope I wasn't bothering you Phantom."

"Bothering me? You put me to sleep too." he laughed with her as he reached around to steal a grape from her plate.

"But...I mean Swiss was right...Your presence does make my day." he mumbled leaning his back against the headboard. "I...I wouldn't mind it if you came around more." he shrugged looking away.

"You really want me to come around more?" Luna asked looking over at him with wide eyes.

"Yes." he replied honestly meeting her eyes.

She stared at him a long moment before shyly coming to sit shoulder to shoulder with her and held out her plate for him to snack on. "I'd like that too." she replied with a soft smile.

"Anytime you need me just...send for me yeah?"

Phantom smiled over at her and bumped his shoulder with hers. "I'll light the bat signal whenever I need you." he replied but Luna could already guess; Phantom would be seeking her out a whole lot more often than just to help him.

[breadcheese444]

Phantom of the Opera malleyuu save me

ⓒ encodory, won, pooyoo

[zhelin-thames]

Death’s Gentle Touch

@demonic0angel thank you for letting me write this.

Ps. This is not a dead silent ship but a dead on main ship. I am way too much of a dead tired, dead on main and dead serious fan🫣, so..... Srry😇

Danny hadn’t planned on staying in Gotham for long. The city was overwhelming, a swirling mess of emotions, crime, and shadows that never seemed to sleep. But something about it called to him—a faint pull in the back of his mind, like the restless murmur of ghosts who hadn’t yet crossed his path.

And then he started noticing them.

The kids.

Each one had a presence that whispered of death’s touch. Not full-on ghostly, but close. Too close. It tugged at Danny’s core, a strange mix of familiarity and concern. The first was a quiet boy, barely seven, with hollow eyes and a haunted expression. Danny found him huddled in the shadows of Crime Alley, shivering and alone.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. He couldn’t leave the kid there.

And so, the warehouse became home.

The old building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but Danny had poured what little ecto-energy he could spare into reinforcing it, patching up leaks, and making it livable. Inside, it was surprisingly cozy. Rugs covered the cold floor, mismatched furniture filled the space, and shelves lined with books and trinkets added a sense of warmth.

Within weeks, Danny’s little family had grown.

Five kids now called the warehouse home, each one with a story that left Danny seething with quiet rage. Abusive parents, neglectful guardians, and the harsh streets of Gotham had taken their toll on each of them. Danny couldn’t fix the past, but he could offer them something better: safety, warmth, and the promise that they’d never be alone again.

One of the kids, Sam, was from one of Gotham’s elite families. He’d run away after his parents’ cruelty pushed him too far. When Danny had found him, Sam had been too weak to argue.

It was Cassandra Cain who stumbled upon them.

She’d been tracking a lead on a missing child—the wealthy parents had finally reported Sam missing after weeks, though their concern had seemed more for appearances than genuine worry. Her trail led her to the refurbished warehouse.

Cass slipped inside silently, her every movement a shadow. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Danny was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a tattered storybook in his hands. The five kids were gathered around him, leaning against him or huddled close, their faces rapt with attention. Danny’s voice was soft, animated, bringing the story to life.

“...and the brave knight faced the dragon, not with a sword, but with kindness.” Danny smiled, looking down at the youngest child, a girl clutching his arm. “Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is try to understand someone else.”

Cass didn’t move for a moment.

The scene was so achingly peaceful, so pure, that it seemed impossible in a city like Gotham. She could feel the protective energy radiating from Danny, the way the kids seemed to trust him implicitly. It wasn’t just a man taking care of children. He was their anchor, their safe harbor.

Still, she stepped forward.

Danny looked up, his glowing green eyes meeting hers. For a second, Cass tensed, ready for a fight. But Danny’s expression softened, and he raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You must be one of the Bats.”

Cass tilted her head, curious but cautious. “Who... are you?”

“I’m Danny,” he replied simply, closing the book. “And these are my kids.”

Her gaze flickered to the children. Sam had tensed at her presence, but Danny placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’re safe here,” Danny continued, his voice calm but firm. “I promise. I know you’re probably here for him.” He nodded toward Sam. “But he ran for a reason. And I’m not about to let anyone hurt him again.”

Cass reported back to Bruce and the others. The revelation sparked an intense debate in the Batcave.

“He’s just a kid himself!” Damian snapped, glaring at the screen showing Danny’s image. “What gives him the right to take in strays like this?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Tim muttered, earning a scowl from Damian.

Bruce, arms crossed, studied the footage Cass had captured. Danny’s protective aura was undeniable, as was the bond he’d formed with the children. “We need to know more about him,” Bruce said. “His intentions, his background, his... abilities.”

Jason leaned against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re just mad someone’s beating you at the whole ‘adopting strays’ thing, B.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Jason, perhaps we should focus on how best to ensure the children’s well-being.”

When the Bats finally confronted Danny in the warehouse, they were met with calm defiance. Danny stood his ground, the kids huddled behind him.

“I get it,” he said, arms crossed. “You’re the big, bad vigilantes of Gotham. But these kids? They’re not just cases or numbers. They’re people. And they deserve better than what the system gave them.”

Bruce stepped forward. “We’re not here to take them from you. But this isn’t sustainable. You’re their age. How do you plan to provide for them long-term?”

Danny hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Jason, watching the exchange, stepped closer. “What’s your deal, Danny? You’re not just some random guy.”

Danny met his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jason smirked. “Try me.”

The Bats weren’t ones to leave mysteries unsolved, and Danny wasn’t about to spill his life story to a group of masked vigilantes without some trust first. It took weeks of cautious interactions and reluctant cooperation for things to come to light.

It was Jason who finally got Danny to open up.

One night, after dropping off a bag of supplies Bruce had insisted the kids needed, Jason stayed behind. He found Danny on the roof of the warehouse, leaning against the railing as he stared at the Gotham skyline. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city.

“So,” Jason began, hopping onto the ledge beside him. “You’re not just some ordinary kid with a big heart. What’s your story?”

Danny let out a long sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

For a moment, Danny said nothing. Then he raised his hand, letting a soft green glow surround it. “You ever hear of Amity Park?”

Jason frowned. “The town with all those ghost rumors? Thought it was a bunch of tabloid nonsense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Danny said, his voice quieter now. “I grew up there. My parents were... ghost hunters. They built a portal to another dimension—the Infinite Realms. Something went wrong, and I ended up... connected to it. Half-ghost, half-human.”

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “Half-ghost? Like, you died?”

“Sort of.” Danny’s tone was light, but his eyes reflected the weight of the experience. “It’s complicated. I didn’t plan to stick around Gotham, but then I started noticing these kids—how close they were to death, how much they’d suffered. I couldn’t just leave them.”

Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re a weird guy, Danny. But I get it.”

Danny smirked. “Thanks, I think.”

Each child Danny had taken in had their own struggles, their own pain that had led them to him.

Sam: The son of a wealthy Gotham family, Sam had been raised in luxury but at a terrible cost. His parents cared more about appearances than his well-being, and the pressure to be perfect had been crushing. When Danny found him, Sam had been wandering the streets, bruised and desperate for escape.

Mia: A street-smart girl with a sharp tongue, Mia had grown up in foster care, bouncing between homes that never cared for her. She’d survived on her own for months before Danny found her, stealing food to survive.

Leo: Barely six, Leo had been abandoned in Crime Alley. He didn’t speak much, but he clung to Danny like a lifeline.

Ella: A bright-eyed girl with an affinity for art, Ella had been living in a condemned building with her older brother, who’d died protecting her. Danny found her crying over his body, her face pale and haunted.

Max: A quiet, thoughtful boy who had a near-death experience after falling into Gotham River. His brush with death had left him sensitive to the supernatural, and he’d been drawn to Danny almost instinctively.

Danny had given them all a second chance, teaching them to trust again. The warehouse became their safe haven, a place where they could heal.

Despite their initial skepticism, the Bats couldn’t deny that Danny was doing good. Bruce offered resources to help with the kids, on the condition that Danny let them monitor the situation.

“I’m not looking to turn this into a charity case,” Danny had said. “I just want what’s best for them.”

“And that’s what we’re offering,” Bruce replied evenly. “Whether you like it or not, we’re invested now.”

Danny found himself working with the Bats more often, whether it was coordinating efforts to help other at-risk kids or teaming up with them during ghost-related incidents.

Cass became a frequent visitor, quietly helping with the children and bonding with Danny over their shared love of storytelling. Tim couldn’t resist asking questions about ghost tech and the Infinite Realms, while Damian begrudgingly admitted that Danny wasn’t as useless as he’d assumed.

Jason, however, became Danny’s closest ally. The two shared a mutual understanding, both having faced death and come back changed.

Years passed, and the warehouse evolved. The children grew, some eventually striking out on their own while others stayed close. Danny became a pillar of the community, the once-abandoned warehouse now a thriving community center.

Jason remained a constant presence in Danny’s life. Their friendship deepened, and somewhere along the way, it turned into something more.

The wedding was a quiet affair, held in the Infinite Realms. The guests were a mix of humans and ghosts, an unusual but fitting reflection of Danny and Jason’s lives.

Sam, Mia, Leo, Ella, and Max—now young adults—stood by Danny’s side, their smiles bright and proud. The Bats, dressed in uncharacteristically formal attire, watched with a mix of fondness and exasperation as Jason said his vows.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at a family,” Jason said, his voice steady but soft. “But with you, Danny, I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

Danny smiled, his eyes glowing faintly. “And I found a home—in Gotham, in these kids, and in you. You’re stuck with me now, Jason.”

As they exchanged rings, the Infinite Realms shimmered around them, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they’d forged.

And as they stepped into their future together, hand in hand, they knew they’d face whatever came next—together, as a family.

Over the years, Danny and Jason’s “kids” grew into remarkable young adults, each finding their own path while staying connected to the family they had built together.

Sam: The Voice for Justice

Sam’s upbringing in Gotham’s elite circles gave him unique insight into the city’s upper class. As an adult, he used that knowledge to challenge the corruption ingrained in Gotham’s wealthy families.

By day, Sam became a successful lawyer, taking on cases for those who couldn’t afford proper representation. By night, he used his connections to help Danny and Jason uncover and dismantle illegal operations hidden behind Gotham’s polished facade.

Despite his serious demeanor, Sam never forgot the kindness Danny showed him. He often visited the community center to mentor at-risk kids, giving them the guidance he wished he’d had.

Mia: The Protector

Mia’s sharp tongue and street smarts made her a natural fighter. She trained with Cass and Damian, honing her skills until she became a formidable vigilante known as Specterblade.

Unlike most of Gotham’s protectors, Mia embraced her ghostly side. Danny taught her how to channel ectoplasmic energy, giving her an edge in combat. She patrolled the streets with a ferocity that even Damian respected, targeting human traffickers and abusers with relentless determination.

Though she worked in the shadows, Mia also took an active role at the community center, running self-defense classes for women and teens.

Leo: The Guardian of the Realms

Leo’s quiet nature hid a deep connection to the Infinite Realms. Over time, his near-death experience evolved into a unique ability to sense disturbances between dimensions.

Danny noticed this early on and trained Leo to become a Realmwalker, a protector of the delicate balance between the mortal world and the Infinite Realms. Leo embraced the role, splitting his time between Gotham and the ghostly dimension.

He became a key figure in handling supernatural threats that even the Justice League struggled with. Though he was often away, Leo remained fiercely loyal to his family, returning whenever they needed him.

Ella: The Healer

Ella’s love for art evolved into a passion for design and restoration. She studied architecture and urban planning, eventually becoming a key figure in revitalizing Gotham’s neglected neighborhoods.

Her ghostly sensitivity gave her a unique perspective on spaces and their emotional resonance, which she used to create safe, welcoming environments. The community center was her first major project, and she expanded its reach with satellite locations across the city.

Ella’s gentle spirit made her a comforting presence in the family, and she often acted as the mediator when tensions ran high.

Max: The Tech Genius

Max’s brush with death left him fascinated by technology and its potential to change lives. He became a brilliant engineer, blending ghost tech and human innovation to create devices that pushed the boundaries of possibility.

Working alongside Tim, Max developed tools to help Gotham’s vigilantes fight crime more efficiently. He also created gadgets to help people with disabilities, inspired by the struggles he witnessed during his time on the streets.

Max was the quiet brain behind many of the family’s operations, preferring to let his work speak for itself.

Despite their busy lives, the kids never forgot their roots. They visited the warehouse-turned-community center regularly, helping Danny and Jason with new initiatives and staying connected to the city that had once failed them.

Family dinners were a chaotic but cherished tradition, with everyone gathering around the table to share stories, tease each other, and reaffirm their bond.

In their own ways, each of Danny and Jason’s kids carried on their legacy of hope, proving that even in a city as dark as Gotham, second chances could bloom into something extraordinary.

I might make this a series and show each kids journey. Hope you guys liked it.

[kachinga12]

Erik the phantom of the opera! :D

[cheerleaderman]

Idia who is this?

No one decided to tell Yuya Idia was getting married -

Cheer rally: @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk @harryinramshackle @viperbunnies @jadelover69

@taruruchi @angelwishess @bunniehunn @sunsmilu

[arabella0001]

i know its long but plspls give it a chance!!

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession (Illumi Zooldyck x Reader)

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession

Pairing; Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Anime: Hunter x Hunter

Synopsis:A woman with secrets, a man with control. Illumi Zoldyck finds her, and their silence lingers with something unspoken.

Warnings: slow burn, dark themes, rough sex, fingering, comfort in Illumi's way

You’ve always kept to the edges, moving through life unnoticed. You’ve had your share of battles—physical and otherwise—and learned early that blending in was as important as any skill. Your past is a blur, just fragments you’ve pieced together, like a puzzle you can’t quite finish. In the shadows, you thrive, and that’s enough for now.

There’s always been a quiet certainty that when the time comes, you'll be ready. You’re waiting for something, though you can’t say what—maybe a clue, or someone who knows more about you than you do. Tonight, it’s just another evening, another bar, another meet-up. But your instincts tell you something’s off.

The bar was shrouded in shadows, the faint flicker of a red neon sign casting eerie shapes on the cracked floor. You pushed through the heavy door, the creak of its hinges slicing through the muffled hum of conversation. The smoky air wrapped around you like a warning, but you ignored it, your heels clicking softly as you approached the bar.

Two men sat at the far end of the bar, framed by the flickering light. One of them lounged lazily, a grin stretched across his lips—Hisoka. Beside him, the other man sat perfectly still, an eerie contrast to Hisoka’s theatrics. Illumi who absentmindedly wrapped his hair around his finger while Hisoka teased him, clearly enjoying the moment.

Illumi’s needle hung from his robe as usual, while his other hand rested casually on his knee, ever ready to strike if necessary.

“Illumi, don’t be so dull. Where’s the fun in that?” Hisoka chuckled, looking amused.

“Be quiet, before I make you” Illumi replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance, still sipping his drink.

Hisoka’s gaze snapped to you almost instantly when he sense your nen, knowing exactly that you are Y/N,  his grin unfurling like a blade hidden in silk. He adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate flair, the faint gleam in his eyes hinting at both curiosity and danger.

‘Well, well, look what we have here,’ he purred, stepping toward you with unsettling grace.”

“A lovely lady, all alone and ripe for the picking.”

He extended his hand towards you, offering it with a gentlemanly air, though a glint of mischief danced in his eyes. Illumi remained seated, his gaze flicking between you and Hisoka, his needle twitching slightly, as though he were anticipating whatever might happen next.

You raised an eyebrow at Hisoka’s bold approach, your crimson lips curling into a smirk. A small part of you felt uncertain—there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right. “And just what do you think you're 'picking'?” you asked, your voice calm, but with an edge of challenge. Despite the unease creeping at the back of your mind, you accepted his hand.

Hisoka's grin widened at your firm handshake, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. “Oh, my dear, I’m not sure yet. But I have a feeling you’re going to make this evening very... interesting,” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice turning husky. “Care to join me and my friend for a drink? We can discuss the possibilities.”

Meanwhile, Illumi remained passive, watching the exchange with interest. His eyes flickered between you and Hisoka, seemingly impassive. His needle quivered faintly as though waiting for the right moment to strike. When your gaze met his, Illumi simply studied you with his trademark unreadable expression, the coolness of his stare sending a chill through the air.

Your eyes lingered on the Illumi’s needle, his cold presence making your pulse quicken. There was something unsettling about the stillness in his posture—it was like he was watching you with the precision of a predator. A chill ran down your spine, and despite the intrigue it sparked, you couldn’t deny the sense of danger radiating from him. Your heart beat a little faster, the unease creeping up on you, yet you couldn’t look away.

“You seem... interesting,” Hisoka said playfully, glancing over at Illumi with a mischievous glint. “Our friend here looks like he’s already sizing you up. No need to worry about him,” he added, with a wink.

You turned to Illumi, your gaze steady, though you felt a slight unease at his intense observation. The silence between you two was thick with unspoken tension. His presence was imposing, yet you couldn’t look away.

“Well now,” you said, breaking the silence. “A drink won’t hurt.”

You slid into the stool next to Illumi, crossing your legs and leaning back slightly, still feeling his piercing gaze on you.

Hisoka clapped his hands together clearly pleased with your response. “Excellent choice! Another round for us, bartender,” he called, signaling for more drinks.

Illumi remained silent, his posture relaxed but alert. He regarded you with the same intense focus, his gaze sharp, as if assessing you on some deeper level.

“So, tell me” Hisoka said, returning to his seat beside you after collecting the drinks. “What brings a stunning woman like yourself to a place like this? Looking for adventure, perhaps?” Hisoka’s question was light, but the underlying curiosity was clear.

You took a slow sip of your drink, never breaking eye contact with Illumi. His attention was making you feel uneasy, but you stayed composed. You couldn’t help but wonder: why was he playing with that needle? What was his deal?

After a moment, you turned to Hisoka, offering him a small, confident smile. “Just passing through, waiting for a friend,” you replied smoothly, your voice calm but with a hint of mystery. “What about you two?”

Hisoka chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Just enjoying the finer things in life: good company, fine liquor,” he said, winking at you playfully. “Perhaps a little entertainment, if you’re in the mood.”

Illumi, on the otherhand, didn’t respond verbally. He simply tilted his head slightly, studying you with a gaze that felt as though he were trying to see through you. The needle twitched once more, drawing lazy circles in the air, as if testing the limits of the tension between you.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, until Illumi finally spoke. “Your friend had better hurry,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “This isn’t a safe place for someone like you to linger.”

His words were cryptic, but there was an edge to them, something that made your skin prickle.

You glanced at Illumi, your eyes narrowing. “Someone like me?” you asked, not sure if you were being threatened or warned. Hisoka, sensing the tension, stepped in to break the silence.

“Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said with a soft chuckle, placing a calming hand on Illumi’s shoulder. “Our guest seems perfectly capable of handling yourself. Aren’t you, Y/N?”

Hisoka’s tone was light, but there was a subtle edge beneath the words, as though he, too, were aware of the growing competition for your attention.

You noticed the way Hisoka’s touch on Illumi’s shoulder seemed both friendly and possessive. It was clear they had some sort of complicated relationship, and you were caught in the middle of it. But what caught your attention, is that they know your name, but you decide not to speak about it.

You raised an eyebrow at Illumi’s comment, trying to keep your cool despite the unease settling in your chest. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you perhaps… threatening me?” you whispered, your voice steady, even though the tension in the room was making your heart race.

Illumi’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. “Threaten you? Oh, no. I'm merely offering... a warning.” he purred, his tone oozing with condescension. “Consider it a courtesy.”

Hisoka quickly intervened, his voice soothing. “Pay him no mind, Y/N. My friend there speaks in riddles sometimes. It’s just his way of showing interest.”

Despite Hisoka’s attempt to downplay the situation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more complicated was at play here.

You looked at Illumi’s mocking smile, the chill creeping up your spine at his tone. You turned back to Hisoka, trying to ease the tension. “I’m not sure I buy that,” you murmured to yourself, then smiled at Hisoka, attempting to lighten the mood. “But thanks for the intervention.”

Hisoka chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Ah, always so perceptive, aren’t you?” He raised his glass in a toast. “To new acquaintances and the intriguing games we play, hmm?”

The tension between the three of you remained thick in the air. Illumi leaned back in his seat, watching you intently, his needle still tracing lazy patterns in the air.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to Hisoka. You could feel his eyes flickering over you, sensing your curiosity.

Hisoka grinned, clearly pleased by the question. “Oh, I dabble in many pursuits,” he said. “Collecting rare artifacts, attending underground fights, savoring exquisite cuisine...” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for dramatic effect. “And occasionally, I provide a... more exclusive form of entertainment for those who know how to appreciate certain... unique talents.”

His words were playful, but there was a sense of pride in them, as if he relished in his dangerous lifestyle.

As you turned to Illumi, you could feel the weight of his silent gaze. His presence was suffocating, and you sensed the layers of his mystery, but he didn’t respond.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your tone casual, but with a trace of challenge. The air between you two thickened.

Hisoka’s grin widened, but he avoided giving you a direct answer. “Illumi here is a man of many talents,” he said vaguely. “He has a... certain calling in life.”

Before you could ask more, Illumi stood up abruptly, the scraping of his chair on the floor making you tense.

“Enough idle chatter,” he said coldly. “If you’re done prattling, perhaps our host has something more stimulating in store for us.”

He turned and began to walk toward the exit, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake. You watched him leave, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. His mention of a "host" caught you off guard. Who was he talking about? The way he spoke suggested something far more serious than a casual meeting, but you couldn't place the connection yet.

“Well, that was certainly an interesting introduction,” you said to Hisoka, trying to shrug off the discomfort.

Hisoka chuckled, unbothered by Illumi’s abrupt exit. “Yes, Illumi can be a bit... intense,” he said. “But don’t worry, he means no harm... unless provoked.”

Hisoka leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “I find your reaction to him quite fascinating,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”

You turned your gaze back to Hisoka, intrigued by his words, but still uncertain of where this night would lead.

“Well, I've faced worse than his eccentric personality,” you smile jokingly.

Hisoka’s grin widened, clearly amused by your bravery. “Is that so? I’d love to hear more about these ‘worse’ encounters of yours. Perhaps over dinner, hmm?”

He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks. As they waited for their refreshments, Hisoka continued to regale you with outrageous tales of his adventures, each one more bizarre and captivating than the last.

Meanwhile, Illumi re-entered the bar, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence subtly overwhelming. Despite the physical space between you, you couldn’t escape the weight of his gaze, as if he were silently dissecting your every movement.

You glanced at him as he returned, going back to the host he’d mentioned earlier—but of course, you had no idea what he meant by that. There was something about the way he had said it, a certain expectation, as if his presence here was tied to more than just a casual meeting.

You noticed Hisoka’s quick, subtle gesture when Illumi sat down—a nearly imperceptible nod, as if confirming something without words. It didn’t escape your attention, but you couldn’t quite place its significance.

“Okay, I’m done,” you say calmly, though clearly irritated. “Do you have a problem?” you ask, looking at Illumi, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Illumi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. However, there was no sign of anger or aggression in his demeanor. Instead, he tilted his head and studied you with a curious, almost intrigued look.

“Problem?” he repeated in a low, measured voice. “Hardly. I simply find your... audacity rather intriguing. Most would have fled in terror at the sight of me, yet here you stand, unflinching.”

He leaned back in his stool, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never strayed from you. “Tell me, what drives someone like you to face danger so directly? Is it bravery, stupidity, or perhaps something else?”

The question lingered, heavy with a subtle menace. Illumi’s gaze pierced into you, as if trying to read something in you only you could answer. Hisoka observed the interaction, clearly fascinated, eager to see how you’d handle Illumi's probing.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain composed despite Illumi's unrelenting stare.

“It’s none of your business,” you respond firmly. “And... why should I be terrified of you?” you meet his gaze without flinching, even though your heart races slightly faster.

Illumi’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile at your defiance. “Brave words,” he murmured softly. “We’ll see how long they last.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a fleeting, chilling touch. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and morbid fascination. “Perhaps I should demonstrate just how terrifying I can be,” he purred, his voice carrying a dark, unsettling promise.

Before you could react, Hisoka placed a hand lightly on Illumi's shoulder, his voice a smooth contrast to Illumi’s ominous tone. “Now, now, let’s not scare off our lovely guest just yet,” he chided, a playful edge in his words.

Turning to you, Hisoka flashed that signature, teasing grin. You quickly pull your arm away from Illumi’s touch, a sense of unease growing in your chest. Your heartbeat quickens, his aura undeniably dangerous, but there’s also something about him that draws you in. Still, the feeling of being unsettled and annoyed lingers.

“Thanks,” you say to Hisoka, giving him a brief but grateful look while keeping your attention fixed on Illumi. “But I think I’ll leave now.” You stand, meeting Illumi’s intense gaze one last time.

Hisoka rose to his feet with a sweeping bow. “A pleasure, Y/N. I do hope our paths cross again, though perhaps next time in less... tense circumstances.”

As you made your way to the door, Illumi remained seated, his gaze unwavering as he watched your every movement. “Until next time” he whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous promise.

Once you exited the bar, Hisoka whistled lowly. “Quite the spark between you two,” he said, his eyes flicking to Illumi. “I hope you can handle the flames to come.” Illumi remained silent, watching the door with a slight, unreadable tilt of his head. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something crossed his face—perhaps a mix of interest and calculation—but he didn’t comment. Hisoka smirked, sensing the night was far from over.

You stepped outside into the cool evening air, the wind brushing against your face. Your thoughts raced with everything that had happened—Illumi, Hisoka, the odd tension that hung in the air between the three of you. Something about them—about him—kept you intrigued, despite everything telling you to stay away.

The following days passed in a haze. Between training your Nen and trying to keep your mind focused, the encounter with Illumi and Hisoka lingered at the back of your thoughts. You went through your routines, honing your skills in the solitude of your own space, but a nagging thought kept surfacing: Could this strange connection with them somehow serve your ultimate goal?

Your instincts told you to stay cautious, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much larger.

That night, just as you were about to slip into restless sleep, a knock at your door shattered the silence. Your heart raced, pulse quickening with anticipation. Hesitant, you approached the door, peeking through the peephole. A shadow loomed outside.

"Illumi?" you whisper, barely above a breath.The knocking continues, more insistent this time.

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to stay safe. Yet, curiosity overwhelms you. Slowly, you open the door just a crack.When you see Illumi standing there, you freeze for a moment, unsure what to do. Part of you wants to slam the door shut, but the other part... is intrigued.

"How do you know where I live?" you ask, your voice a little more uncertain than you'd like to admit. "What are you doing here?" You keep your gaze locked on him, your body on alert.

Illumi steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door softly behind him. In the dim light, his presence feels almost suffocating—like a predator watching its prey.

"You shouldn't be surprised," he murmurs smoothly, his voice like silk. "In our world, secrets aren't hard to uncover. Especially when someone as... captivating as you is involved."

He steps closer, his proximity sending a ripple of heat through your body. The danger in his every move is undeniable.

"I came to extend an invitation," he says, his voice low, mesmerizing. "Tomorrow night. A private gathering. It will be... an experience you won't forget."

You swallow, trying to hold your ground as his gaze locks onto yours. His presence, so close, sends an electric current running through your skin, leaving you with a chilling sense of unease—and, for some reason, something else.

"I don't think so," you respond, trying to keep your composure. "I don't trust you yet to accept an invitation from someone like you."

Illumi’s lips twitch into a small, calculating smile as he watches you. His gaze is cold, yet there’s something predatory in it. "That’s precisely why you should consider it," he says, his voice low and steady. He reaches forward, his fingers grazing the side of your face with eerie precision, his touch cold yet deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We’re not used to being dismissed," he continues, his voice unwavering and cold, yet there’s an underlying intensity. "Especially by someone with potential. Consider it a test—a way to prove you’re worth our attention. A challenge, if you will."

He leans in slightly, his breath cold against your ear. "If you prove yourself, the rewards may outweigh the risk," he says, his voice steady but carrying an unsettling weight. He pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. "Until tomorrow night. Don’t take too long."

You watch him leave, your heart still pounding in your chest, the intensity of his presence lingering in the air. You hate that your body responded the way it did. Part of you feels intimidated, but there's also an undeniable temptation, a pull you can't seem to shake.

The next day, you're pacing your apartment, anxiety gnawing at you. The offer, the invitation, the mystery—it's all too much to ignore. Despite your better judgment, you're drawn to the dangerous allure of Illumi and Hisoka. By the time the sun sets, you've made up your mind.

You arrive at the mansion on the outskirts of town. The eerie quiet of the place sends a chill down your spine, but your curiosity pushes you forward. Inside, you spot Illumi waiting for you, his piercing gaze immediately locking onto yours.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice like velvet. "Look who decided to join us. I must say, I'm impressed."

You stand tall, despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. "Impressed by what exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I must admit, I find your... choices somewhat intriguing." You don’t dare voice your true thoughts, though a part of you feels the pull of his presence.

Illumi chuckles softly, a sound that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Oh, my dear," he purrs, his eyes dark with quiet amusement as he circles around you, "it’s not just my... choices that draw you in, is it?" His voice is smooth, dangerous, a predator’s calm before the hunt. "It’s the power I carry, the silent threat, the allure of what lies beneath the surface."

He steps even closer, so close you can feel the heat of his presence. Stopping behind you, he leans in, his breath grazing your ear. "But don’t worry," he murmurs, his fingers cold as they gently cup your chin, turning your head to face him. "I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I find your boldness... rather intriguing."

With a deliberate motion, he guides your chin to face him fully. His cold fingers send a shiver through you, contrasting with the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Shall we proceed?" he asks, his voice low, commanding, almost hypnotic.

You try to hold your ground, though it’s hard not to react to his proximity, to the way he takes control of the space between you. "Let’s get this over with," you say, your voice betraying a hint of unease, though you strive to sound unaffected. "Lead the way."

Illumi's grip tightens slightly, a silent reminder not to challenge him further. "As you wish," he responds, releasing your chin with a fluid motion before stepping back.

He leads you down the mansion’s corridors, each step echoing through the vast, silent halls. When you reach a heavy door, guarded by silent figures, Illumi unlocks it with a key, revealing the eerie blue light spilling from within.

"Welcome to our little sanctuary," Illumi announces. "Inside awaits an experience beyond your wildest imagination."

You step inside hesitantly, immediately feeling the weight of the atmosphere. The air is thick, pulsing with an almost tangible energy, and the blue light casts an ethereal glow over everything.

"What is this place?" you ask, your voice tight with uncertainty. "And who else is here?" You glance around, sensing eyes on you from the shadows, though you can’t make anyone out.

Illumi senses your unease and speaks with a calm, almost possessive tone. "This is a sanctum for those who appreciate the finer things in life," he explains, guiding you deeper into the room. "The company is... eclectic. But don’t worry, they mean no harm... for now."

He looks at you, his gaze unreadable. "As for the others, let's just say you've caught the attention of some very... interesting individuals." He places a hand on the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "We’ve been discussing the possibility of adding you to our little family."

Your breath catches. "Family?" you repeat, your voice wavering slightly. "I don’t even know what you do. I’m not sure I’m interested in joining your... family."

You glance around again, noticing how the shadows seem to shift, as if alive, watching you.

Illumi’s grip on your back tightens, his voice low and cold. "Oh, you’re already a part of it, whether you like it or not," he says, his tone calm yet firm. "Once you've crossed paths with us, there’s no turning back."

He leads you to a raised dais at the center of the room, motioning for you to sit. "Sit," he commands. "Now."

You obey, though the feeling in the room only grows heavier, more oppressive.

From the shadows, Hisoka emerges, a wicked grin on his face as he looks you over. "Well, well, look at our little bird perched so prettily," he says, his voice dripping with dark amusement. His gaze shifts to Illumi. "She looks like she belongs here, don't you think?"

You feel a shiver of dread as Hisoka's gaze locks onto you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Part of you feels threatened, yet the way Illumi stands near you, his eyes fixed on Hisoka with a certain quiet possessiveness, makes you feel... somewhat protected.

Hisoka steps closer, his grin widening. "In a world full of mediocrity, we seek out the extraordinary," he says with a mocking tone. "And you, my dear, are a rare gem indeed."

Before you can respond, Illumi places a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. "Enough games," he says quietly, but with an edge to his voice. He turns back to you, his demeanor shifting to something more serious, yet still oddly intimate. "We’re not merely what people assume us to be. We are... curators of chaos, seekers of the sublime."

You listen to his words carefully, still trying to wrap your mind around everything. You're intrigued, but more than a little scared. There's so much you don't understand.

"So, what is it you want from me?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "What is your game? What are you, assassins?" You joke, but oh dear, their gaze tells you everything, and you freeze, realizing the truth of their job.

Illumi’s smile grew, a thin, calculating line that didn’t reach his eyes. "Assassins, mercenaries, enforcers—labels are irrelevant when you're dealing with the best of the best," he said, his voice a low purr. "We’re not concerned with ownership; we’re more interested in partnership."

Hisoka snorted, his grin widening. "Partnership implies equality, sweetheart, and you're nowhere near our level. But don’t worry, we’ll bring you up to speed."

Illumi placed a hand on your knee, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the deadly nature of their profession. "Think of it this way—you'll be part of an elite circle, operating on the fringes of society. No ordinary life for you anymore, my dear. Just the thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline in the face of danger..."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize they are indeed assassins, and it troubles you more than you intended. You feel in danger here—there’s no way out. The mansion is full of people waiting for you to join their group, but... why?

As you overthink, staring at them intently, you suddenly realize something that terrifies you. You've heard of an assassin family—the Zoldycks—and you can't help but ask, a tremor running through you.

"Illumi... what's your full name?" You look at him, hoping for honesty, feeling tense and drawn to this dangerous man, almost seeking his comfort despite the fear bubbling inside you.

Illumi’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've done your research," he purred, leaning in closer to you. "My full name is Illumi Zoldyck."

He watched your reaction intently, savoring the shock on your face. "Yes, I come from a long lineage of assassins," he continued, his voice low and hypnotic. I’m the shadow that moves unseen, the force that shapes outcomes without lifting a finger. I’m a master of control, an architect of fate—everything I touch bends to my will."

Hisoka chuckled darkly, interjecting, "And a total psycho, if you ask me." Illumi shot him a withering glare, but then focused back on you.

"But enough about us," Illumi said, his tone shifting to a more intimate cadence.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, a chill running down your spine. You knew about the Zoldycks, but never thought you would meet one, especially not one so close to you right now.

"A Zoldyck..." You mutter under your breath, trying to process the new information. You look at him, feeling a mix of fear and fascination as you’re drawn to him. "Why do you need me to be part of... your group?"

Illumi doesn't answer directly about your role in the organization, but he can’t help but feel drawn to you in a way his family wouldn't approve of. Though cold and calculating on the surface, there's something different when it comes to you. He won’t show this weakness, of course.

Illumi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. " Let’s just say... you’ll fit nicely into the framework we’re building. There’s always a place for the right person."," he replied cryptically.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Yeah, she's got the spark, the fire in your belly. We could mold your into something truly exceptional."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint in his eye before returning to you. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Hisoka paused, studying your reactions closely. "So, what do you say, my dear? Are you ready to embrace your destiny and become part of our little family?"

You swallow, feeling like a pawn in a game you don't fully understand. The allure of power, of being part of something bigger than yourself, is undeniable.

 "I... I’ll think about it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, torn between fear and curiosity. You can't tear your eyes away from Illumi.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Oh, my, you're torn between fear and curiosity? How delicious! I can't wait to see what you’ll choose... or maybe I just want to watch you squirm."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint flashing briefly in his eyes before returning to you. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, like he was considering you, weighing you, perhaps even contemplating something more. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Illumi rose from his seat, towering over you, his eyes boring into yours. "I’ll give you time until tomorrow night."

Afterward, you head home, your mind consumed by everything that happened. As you think, your thoughts drift to Illumi.

As you departed, Hisoka called after you, his voice echoing through the mansion's grand halls. "Don’t take too long, darling! We’re eager to see what you'll become!"

Illumi, meanwhile, remained standing, his piercing gaze following you until you disappeared from view. Once alone, he allowed himself a fleeting moment of introspection, his thoughts drifting to the enigmatic woman he had encountered.

Despite his usual composure, there was an unfamiliar warmth simmering within him, a sensation he couldn’t quite define. Illumi pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—molding you into the perfect asset for their organization.

The next evening, as planned, Illumi awaited your arrival, his demeanor as cool and collected as ever.

You arrive at the mansion, nervous and troubled by the decision you just made. As you step inside, you see Illumi standing there, looking calm and collected as always. Your heartbeat quickens.

Illumi greeted you with a nod, his eyes assessing your appearance and demeanor. "You've decided, then?" he asked matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Come, let's discuss the details of your new role."

Without awaiting a response, Illumi turned abruptly, his movements deliberate and fluid as he led you deeper into the mansion. His steps echoed in the silent corridors, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, like he was drawing you into a world you weren't sure you were ready for. The maze of corridors felt endless, each turn more isolating than the last.

"I assume you have some experience with combat, " Illumi said, his voice low, almost assessing. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, a subtle but deliberate scrutiny. "We'll start with a physical test. I want to see what you're capable of. "

As Illumi finished speaking, the door creaked open behind you, and Hisoka leaned in casually, his grin widening as he sized you up. 'Well, well,' he purred, 'Let’s see if our recruit lives up to the Zoldyck legacy. "

Following Illumi, your pulse quickens, a mix of nervousness and something else, something unfamiliar. The door to the training room swings open, and the cold gleam of weapons lining the walls hits you like a slap. This was no ordinary training facility—it was a shrine to death, and you were about to become a part of it.

I... yes, I have some combat experience,' you reply, trying to sound confident, but your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. His gaze, slow and deliberate, traces over you—making you feel both exposed and oddly... seen. You force yourself to stand tall, though your heart races under the weight of his scrutiny.

You notice Hisoka observing you with keen interest, his grin widening as he watches your interaction with Illumi.

With a deep breath, you brace yourself, feeling Illumi’s eyes still on you, studying, calculating. His nod is almost imperceptible, yet his gaze remains sharp and intense, like a predator’s. 'Let’s start with something simple—agility, reflexes. Show me what you can do.' His words, though neutral, hang heavy in the air, a silent challenge."

He pointed to the obstacles ahead—hurdles, balance beams, pendulums swinging with mechanical precision. 'Your task is simple,' Illumi said, his voice calm but firm, 'Cross without making a mistake. Only the ground should feel your weight. Understood?'"

Before you could respond, Hisoka chimed in, "And remember, sweetie, speed and precision are key! Show us what you're made of!"

Illumi glanced at Hisoka, his expression a sharp mix of annoyance and something else—something colder. But he didn’t waste words. His gaze snapped back to you, every ounce of his attention now fixed on your every move. "On my count," he instructed, raising his hand. "Three... two... one..."

You nod, taking a moment to observe the obstacles before you. Your mind races with strategies and tactics, trying to decide the best approach.

As Illumi starts counting down, you spring into action, moving swiftly across the floor. You leap over the hurdles, balancing carefully on the narrow beams, and dodging the swinging pendulums with quick reflexes.

Halfway through, you feel a surge of adrenaline, pushing you to move even faster. With a final leap, you land safely on the ground, panting lightly.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you look up at Illumi and Hisoka waiting.

Illumi watched your performance with a critical eye, noting your speed, agility, and overall technique. When you finished, he gave a slight nod of approval. "Not bad. You managed to complete the course without major errors."

Hisoka, on the otherhand, was practically bouncing with excitement, clapping his hands togetyour gleefully. "Bravo, bravo! What a delightful display of athleticism! I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed."

Illumi raised an eyebrow at his friend's exuberance but turned his attention back to you. "Next, we'll assess your marksmanship skills. Follow me."

Without a word, Illumi turned, leading you to a shooting range tucked in a quiet corner of the room. The stark silence of the space was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of your breath. 'Prove your worth,' he said coldly, 'Handguns, rifles, knives. Show me what you can do.

You follow Illumi to the shooting range, feeling a mix of confidence and trepidation. You’ve handled guns before, but not in a formal setting like this. Nodding, you select a handgun first. Illumi helps you check the weight and grip before you aim at the target, his touch on your hand making you unfocused for a second. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze the trigger, hitting the center of the bullseye. Next, you move on to the rifle, your aim steady and true as you fire off round after round, each bullet finding its mark except one. Finally, you pick up a knife, flipping it expertly between your fingers before demonstrating your throwing skills. The blade embeds itself in the wood of the target.

Illumi observed your performance with a calculating gaze, his expression unreadable. When you completed the tests, he stepped closer, inspecting the target results.

"Decent accuracy with the handgun and rifle," he remarked, "but room for improvement. That stray shot could’ve been fatal in a real-world scenario."

Hisoka, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the minor flaw. "Pfft, a single miss? Hardly a concern, darling! With practice, you’ll be hitting your marks every time."

Turning to you, Illumi continued, "Your knife work is satisfactory, though perhaps a bit flashy for our purposes. We prefer subtlety and efficiency in our assassins."

He paused, studying you intently. "Overall, you demonstrate potential, but you still lack the polish and discipline required for our organization."

You listen to Illumi's critique, a small part of you stung by the criticism, but you push that aside, focusing on his words of guidance instead.

"Okay." You nodded. His cold, enigmatic demeanor makes you so aware of your surroundings.

Illumi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded curtly. "Very well. We'll continue your training tomorrow. For now, rest and prepare yourself mentally for the challenges ahead."

With that, he turned and wanting to leave, leaving you alone with Hisoka. The latter grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don’t worry about old Illi’s harsh words, sweetheart. He’s just trying to whip you into shape."

Hisoka sauntered closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. "I, on the otherhand, think you’re perfect just the way you are. Though I do hope you’ll indulge me in a few... extracurricular activities tonight."

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I have a feeling you’d look stunning drenched in blood."

With that, Illumi shot Hisoka a glare, making him leave. Hisoka already knows that his friend Illumi is interested in you, but he doesn’t say it directly. Illumi doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to you—the cold, calculating, and emotionless man on the surface. He can’t help but make you squirm and tease you in his own way, but he mostly focuses on the mission ahead.

Illumi’s glare held a clear warning, and Hisoka knew better than to push furtyour. With a playful smirk, he bowed mockingly before turning on his heel and departing, leaving you alone once more with the enigmatic assassin leader.

Illumi returned his attention to you, his expression unreadable. "Tomorrow, we will focus on strategic thinking and adaptability. Be prepared to face unpredictable scenarios."

Without another word, he dismissed you, his actions as abrupt as they were efficient. As you exited the training room, you couldn't shake the sensation that Illumi's interest in you went beyond mere professionalism—but the cryptic nature of their interactions left you unsure how to interpret his intentions.

Later that night, Illumi entered your quarters without awaiting an invitation, his usual composed façade slipping for the briefest moment as he took in your appearance. The fleeting flash of desire in his eyes earlier seemed to intensify in this intimate setting, and despite his attempts to suppress it, he couldn’t ignore the pull.

"I trust you're resting adequately," he stated, his voice low and measured. "Tomorrow, we'll be engaging in close-quarters combat drills. Your agility serves you well, but you must learn to harness your strength more effectively."

As he spoke, Illumi’s gaze roamed over your form, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your attire. The air between you thickened, heavy with an unspoken tension. It was a strange feeling, as though his usually tight control was slipping—something more primal simmered beneath the surface.

"Remember," his voice trailed off, his eyes still lingering on you as he tried to steady his breath. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his body as he stands closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

You swallow, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. His voice is cold and calculated, but you can’t ignore the thrill that runs through you at the sound of it. You nod, acknowledging his instructions about the upcoming training session.

The air between you both feels electric, charged with something neityour of you can fully control. As Illumi draws closer, his proximity seems to suffocate you, making it harder to breathe. Your senses heighten as he stands just a little too close, a small distance remaining between you—but not enough to ignore the intensity of his presence.

Illumi’s internal struggle was evident. His disciplined assassin’s mind was still sharp, but it was no match for the growing pull of his desires. He had been raised to control everything, to compartmentalize every part of himself—sexuality included. Yet, for some reason, you seemed to be different. This thought frustrated him; he couldn’t allow such feelings to complicate matters. But even as he thought this, his body betrayed him.

Illumi’s gaze darkened as his fingers tightened at his sides. He clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain control.

"Illumi...?" You look at him, hating yourself for the way your body seems to lean toward him. His presence is consuming, and despite your attempts to fight it, you find yourself wanting him closer.

Illumi’s resolve cracked under the weight of his desires, his stoic mask slipping away. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he closed the space between you, his hands reaching out to pull you flush against his hardened body. His touch was rough, possessive.

"You should not intrigue me so," he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "It complicates things unnecessarily."

But despite his words, his hands remained on you, his fingers pressing possessively into your waist, his body hard against yours. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, an animalistic hunger he could no longer suppress.

Your breath caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his muscular frame. The danger he embodies is palpable, but it only draws you closer, your body betraying your better judgment. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the heat radiating from him, and yet, you can’t pull away.

His words, laced with frustration and desire, hung heavy in the air. You can sense the internal battle he’s fighting, the need to keep control clashing with something far more primal. You can practically feel the tension between you, the undeniable pull that neityour of you wants to acknowledge.

"I could say the same thing," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet the words seem to carry a weight of their own.

Illumi’s grip tightened on you, his thumbs brushing along the sensitive skin of your lower back as he ground his body against yours. "Then perhaps we should indulge in these... complications," he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

With swift, practiced movements, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you as though he couldn’t get enough.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, leaving you gasping for air. You clung to him, returning his kiss with equal desperation, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, pleasure, and danger that only he could provide.

You gasp as Illumi’s kiss deepens, his dominance taking over as he pulls you closer, his movements quick and forceful. The danger and excitement mix within you, the fear of what might happen next blending with a yearning you can’t deny.

His skilled tongue dances with yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads throughout your entire being, you moan softly into the kiss, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. Ilumi's hands explore your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake, you arch into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caresses.

Illumi's lips left yours, trailing scorching kisses along your jawline and down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he nipped and sucked at the tender flesh.

One hand slid beneath your shirt, palming the soft mound of your breast as he continued his assault on your senses. His thumb flicked over your nipple, coaxing it to peak before pinching gently, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"We shouldn't rush this," Illumi breathed, his hot exhalation fanning across your damp skin. "But I fear my restraint is wearing thin." His fingers deftly unfastened your pants, sliding inside to stroke the slick heat of your core. "Tell me to stop, if you dare."

You barely register the sound of your pants being undone until his fingers slip inside, stroking your already drenched folds, making your knees buckle slightly, you can believe this the composed assassin Illumi you know, but you can’t help but feel aroused by him/

Illumi's fingers delved deeper, curling inside you to stroke your inner walls with a practiced ease that belied his typically reserved nature, his voice a low rumble filled with dark satisfaction. "Your body knows exactly what it craves, doesn't it?"

As he spoke, he added a second finger, stretching and filling your with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The wet sounds of their intimacy mingled with your ragged breathing, creating a lewd symphony that only served to fuel Illumi's desire. Though Illumi was never one for excessive words, but in this moment, he can’t help, his voice brough

"You should see yourself now," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he worked your tighter. "So compliant, so eager for more. It's almost...beautiful." With a sudden twist of his wrist, he found that secret spot deep within your, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cry out, unable to contain the intense pleasure, your back arches. The way he is so talkative, speaks so confident, so hynoptic, sends a thrill through you, even as a part of you wonders how he can be so bold, so unashamed of his desires.

“Illumi…” you gasp as you grind further on you his hand.

"Yes?" Illumi purred, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he sought to unravel you completely. "What is it you desire, little assassin? Speak, and I might grant your request."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you’d prefer to break under my control, against the wall, with nothing but the sound of how you crumble to my mercy?" You gasp at his filthy words, your eyes widen of this part of him, almost possessive.

Illumi's free hand slid up your side, his palm sizzling against your overheated skin as he cupped your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. "Or maybe you yearn for something more...depraved?" His thumb circled your nipple, tugging it into a tight peak that sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit.

Your breath hitches as Illumi’s words paint vivid images in your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last, his touch is addicitive, possesive, every caress igniting a fresh wave of desire within you, making you tremble.

Illumi's fingers picked up speed, plunging in and out of your quivering channel with a ruthless precision that bordered on violent, he groaned "I wonder how many times I could make you cum before you collapse from exhaustion."

He grind on your behind, bitting down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, as his other hand slipped beneath your shirt once more. His nails scraped across your ribs, leaving red welts in their wake, before he reached your breasts. Rough palms squeezed and kneaded the supple mounds, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks that throbbed in time with the pounding of your heart.

"Illumi, please... "you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whimper.

"Yes, what?" Illumi demanded, his tone sharp with impatience. "Speak clear, Y/N"

His fingers curled inside your, rubbing that sweet spot with a maddening persistence. "Do you want me to fuck you harder? Deeper? Make you scream my name until your throat is raw?"

His fingers plunge deeper, faster, the brutal rhythm threatening to consume you whole. you can feel the coil of tension building within, making you close to your climax.

You start screaming, feeling how your orgasm wash over you and with a swift movement, not letting you relax, he spun you around making you gasp, pressing your back against the cold metal of the wall, the rough surface provides a stark contrast to the heated, intimate contact of his body pressed against yours as you gasp. One hand gripped your hip, holding your steady as the other fumbled with his belt, freeing his throbbing erection.

"I’ve decided I’m going to take what I want. Now," his tone sharp, positioning himself at your entrance.

His words are filthy, depraved, and they only serve to stoke the flames of your arousal higher, you can feel his hardness prodding at your entrance, a thick, pulsating promise of the pleasure to come.

“Yes, Illumi, fuck…please“ you admit breathlessly, your resolve crumbling under his touch and words.

With a feral snarl, Illumi surged forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out, your back arching as you felt him stretch your open, the sensation bordering on pain but suffused with overwhelming pleasure.

“So willing” Illumi hissed, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. "This is what you needed, isn't it? I want to hear you admit it.”

“Yes…” You nodd desperately, feeling so intense and trembeling.

“Good. “" He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, his hot breath mingling with yours. "And I'm going to give it to you over and over again, until you're begging for mercy."

A strangled moan escapes your lips as Ilumi fills you completely, the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your entire being.

Each forceful thrust drives you closer to the edge, the friction of his hard length against your sensitive inner walls pushing you towards a precipice from which there's no return.

“yes.. Iillumi please, “you pant out, your voice a broken, pleading thing as you lose yourself in the relentless pace of his hips.

"Please what,Y/N?" Illumi taunted, his start gripping your throat slightly, moving your head towards him, as he drove into your with renewed vigor. "Tell me what you need, what filthy things you want me to do to you."

He captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominated yours. At the same time, his fingers found your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision.

"Come," he commanded, breaking the kiss to nip at your jawline.  As if in response to his words, your orgasm crashed over your like a tidal wave, ripping your apart and rebuilding your anew in its aftermath. You screamed his name, your voice echoing off the walls as your pussy clamped down on his shaf.

Your mind goes blank as the intense waves of pleasure wash over you, Ilumi's relentless stimulation pushing you past the point of no return.

Your screams mingle with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the obscene squelch of your arousal coating his cock as he continues to pound into you even as you come undone.

Ilumi's command hangs in the air, a dark challenge that only serves to heighten your awareness  of his own impending climax, you can feel him twitching inside you, his grip on your hips becoming almost painful as he struggles to hold back and you push into him more so you can help him.

With a guttural roar, Illumi buried himself to the hilt one final time, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a torrent of hot seed deep within your spasming depths. Each powerful spurt seemed to go on forever, painting your insides with his essence until you are filled to bursting.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax subsided, Illumi slowly withdrew, his softening member slipping free of your abused hole with a wet pop. A trail of cum dripped down your thigh, a visible testament to the thorough breeding you just received.

"Well, that was satisfying," Illumi murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he admired his handiwork.

His sharp eyes studied you for a moment, his stance unwavering. "You’re in no condition to keep standing like this."

Before you could spleak, he moved swiftly, placing a firm hand at your back to guide you toward the bed. His touch, though not gentle, was steady and unyielding. "Lie down," he commanded, his voice a low murmur.

You feel utterly exhausted, your body spent, yet vulnerable—vulnerable in a way you never thought you would be with a Zoldyck. The fear lingers that it was just a fleeting, intimate moment for him, and you long for the comfort of aftercare. You're conflicted, unable to predict his next reaction, fully aware of his cold, enigmatic, and stoic nature.

You look at him, unable to control the vulnerability in your expression. You can’t help but wonder, despite his personality and history, if you’ve become important to him—though it doesn't show on the surface.

Illumi’s gaze softened, if only for a heartbeat, as he took in your vulnerable expression. It was the briefest of cracks in his otyourwise impenetrable facade—a fleeting flicker of something raw, something human beneath his usual cold exterior.

Without a word, his fingers brushed over the marks on your neck, a touch so delicate it almost felt alien—so different from the relentless passion they had just shared. The contact was soft, almost tentative, sending a shiver through you, who couldn’t help but feel the weight of this quiet intimacy.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, the tenderness faded, replaced once more by his usual aloofness. "Get dressed," he said sharply, his voice regaining its customary chill. With his usual precision, he began to gatyour his discarded clothes, a stoic figure once more. "We have matters to attend to."

Your heart skips a beat at the brief, unexpected softness in his eyes—a connection so fleeting, so fragile, that it leaves you aching for more. But the moment evaporates as swiftly as it came, and you’re left questioning if it was ever truly there or just a brief illusion, a crack in the facade that closed too soon.

Can… you stay a little longer? you ask, a quiet uncertainty in your voice, hesitant of how he’ll respond.

Illumi freezes for a moment at your request, his assassin’s discipline momentarily faltering. The connection between you is something unfamiliar, something he hasn’t had to process before. His mind is caught between his hardened, emotionally detached instincts and the surprising intensity of the bond you're offering.

Illumi paused, his hand hovering just above his shirt as he considered your words. The room grew heavy with the tension of his contemplation. Finally, without a word, he sat down on the bed, his posture rigid, but not dismissive. He was clearly weighing something—something beyond his control.

"You want me to stay," he said flatly, his voice cold but with a slight edge of curiosity. His eyes never left yours. "Is that because you enjoyed our...interlude? Or is it something else entirely?"

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, a brief crack in his impassive exterior that he quickly masked. It was evident that You’s unexpected emotional intimacy had caught him off guard, forcing him to confront feelings and desires that he had never fully acknowledged before.

Your heart races as you watch Illumi sit, his presence overwhelming, as always, but now more than ever, it pulls you in despite the tension between you. His words cut through you, making your emotions feel more tangled, and you realize just how much you’ve invested in this moment—how much you’ve allowed yourself to feel.

"Yes... and no, " you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, stepping closer, but still unsure.

You reach out, pausing, as if to test the waters, before carefully placing your hand on his knee. A quiet hope stirs within you—that this small touch, this tentative gesture, might offer the reassurance both of you are craving.

Illumi’s muscles stiffen at your touch, a sharp breath escaping his lips as your fingers make contact. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, just staring at where your hand rests on his knee, as though trying to process the strange new feelings this simple connection stirs within him.

Slowly, cautiously, he places his hand over yours. His touch is deliberate, firm, and warm, but there’s a hesitation in it—a carefulness that reflects how much he’s struggling with the emotions that you’ve brought to the surface. "I see," he says quietly, his voice low, but there’s a shift in it. "In that case, I suppose I can spare a few more minutes."

Illumi stands, his hand hovering briefly before he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, the gesture is stiff, almost as if he’s testing how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. His arms wrap around you, but the embrace feels tentative, as though he’s still unsure of what to do with the warmth he’s suddenly feeling.

In the stillness of that moment, Illumi’s heart races in his chest, the thundering beat a stark contrast to the icy calm he’s always projected, betraying the chaos he’s desperately trying to suppress.

As Illumi pulls you into his arms, a sense of calm washes over you. His warmth is solid and grounding, a stark contrast to the heat and chaos of your previous encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the closeness—the simple, quiet connection that feels like it might be more than just physical.

Though your emotions swirl within you, you keep them in check, not wanting to overwhelm him. Instead, you focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat that seems to anchor you both in this rare moment of peace.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

Illumi’s arms tightened around you, holding you tight. The soft pressure of his body against yours was a sensation he hadn’t known before, and it both unsettled and captivated him.

"For what, exactly?" Illumi asks, his voice cool, but with a subtle hint of curiosity. "I'm not used to such gestures. Explain to me, why do you feel the need for this?"

But even as he spoke, Illumi didn’t pull away. Instead, his body stiffened for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing your temple in a brief, but telling gesture. It was a small act, a flicker of something he rarely allowed himself to show—soft, but unmistakably affectionate. It wasn’t much, but in that fleeting touch, something subtly shifted between them, a crack in the ice that had always surrounded him.

The press of his lips against your temple sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. The tenderness of the gesture, despite his usual stoicism, made you ache for more. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the intimacy that had quietly bloomed between you, fragile but undeniably real.

"For being here," you reply softly, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "For trying, even if it’s not something you're used to."

"Don’t get used to this," he murmurs, his tone strangely quiet, almost as if he's speaking to himself, not wanting to admit the slight shift inside him.

Illumi’s grip on you relaxed just slightly, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your back. Your words, simple as they were, had touched something within him. "Trying," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "Perhaps that's an understatement for what we’ve done. But with you… it feels different. Necessary, almost."

He trailed off, his words unspoken, but the emotion behind them clear. Illumi was used to being distant, to keeping his feelings locked away. But with you, that wall had started to crumble—piece by piece, allowing something deeper to emerge.

Your heart swells at Illumi’s honesty, his words a raw admission that makes you feel even more connected to him. You press yourself closer, wanting to bridge the emotional gap between you, to share in the understanding that seems to be growing between you both.

"I feel the same, Illumi," you whisper, your voice sincere and filled with unspoken understanding.

Illumi's breath caught in his throat at your words. The sincerity in your voice reverberated through him, stirring something deep he wasn't prepared for. For years, he'd hardened himself against the idea of emotional connections—intimacy had always been something distant, too complicated to allow. But with you, the tension was palpable, like something he couldn’t push away, something he wasn’t sure how to control.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, but with an intensity that spoke volumes. It was a stark contrast to the fierceness of their earlier encounter, but somehow, it felt more consuming—this kiss was softer, but it lingered with a weight he couldn’t ignore. It felt different, like a shift, like something he couldn't quite put into words.

As the kiss deepened, Illumi became painfully aware of every touch—your body pressed against his, the softness of your skin, the way your breath matched his, shallow but steady. Every movement seemed to pull him in deeper, and for once, Illumi couldn't escape it. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, but it was a feeling he found himself craving—something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until now.

[candidjellyfish]

Random thoughts on how I think a potential lover could change Chrollo:

🕷️I feel like Chrollo is the type of person who walks a fine line between craving connection and rejecting vulnerability. His emotional detachment doesn’t mean he’s indifferent to others. He expresses a clear sense of responsibility for the Troupe while simultaneously maintaining a certain distance. To me, this paradox reveals that he craves connection but cannot afford to be vulnerable without risking his authority and identity.

If he were fully detached, he wouldn’t care about Uvogin’s death or go as far as holding a requiem to honor him. But if he were fully vulnerable, he wouldn’t be able to maintain the ruthless control required to lead a group like the Troupe.

That said, how he would treat a potential love interest depends very much on who they are to him. For his potential s/o to move beyond mere curiosity and become someone he genuinely cherishes, they would need to be irreplaceable in his eyes—someone no one else could ever replicate or replace.

This person would have to be able to pull him away from his habitual detachment, drawing him out of his constant way of analysing the people around him. They wouldn’t just capture his attention but anchor him in the present, making him live in the moment/lose himself in the emotion he’s feeling in the moment.

But it’s very likely that the same qualities that draw him in would also shake him. Someone with the power to make him lose himself in the moment also holds the power to change his worldview. For a man who survives by maintaining intellectual and emotional control, being vulnerable a would threaten the stability he’s built around himself and the Troupe.

At first, his instinct would likely be to push him away. I don’t think this would be due to indifference but because their influence on him represents a loss of control, something he cannot afford when his leadership hinges on his ability to stay emotionally untouchable. Letting someone see or discover his unfiltered core means risking the detachment that enables him to make the kind of ruthless decisions the Troupe’s survival demands.

Though I can definitely imagine how someone who makes him feel something beyond duty and cold calculation would eventually become a pull he cannot resist, no matter how much he tries to maintain his distance. 🤭

It’s likely that this relationship would redefine his existence. For once, he would have something outside the Troupe’s mission that holds genuine value. This could manifest in subtle ways like small acts of protectiveness or moments where his calm facade cracks, or even instances where he prioritizes their safety over the Troupe’s objectives. If that person were in the troupe themself, his actions would ultimately go against his motto that nobody is more important than the whole.

꧁༺ I can fix him he’s so majestic god help me I’m obsessed 😔 ༻꧂

(Maybe ill write HCs soon or oneshots)

[faintrustle]

GOJO SATORU in Jujutsu Kaisen Phantom Parade:

[kabukiaku]

lots of kofi commissions from May! I had a delight working on @excentricanthropologist's commission so damn much. (this is referencing their short fic dedicated to my fruity boys) 🥺🍒🍓

[dibbledoodle]

Blot dibs I’m obsessed 😭

Leona knows what he wants lmao

[titlemewickedwonderland]

The Manager (Ghost Fic) Chapter 1

Summary: The Ministry announces an outsider coming to be part of the congregation to help with the Ghost project as a tour manager; little did the Ghoul know; she is nothing like they pictured her or how she'd affect them all.

Support My Work!

"Now, I want you all to be nice, ghouls! This is the third manager we have had in the span of 6 months! If you dare run her off-" Copia wagged a finger at the group resulting in a few scoffs.

"It's not our fault the last ones didn't know how to handle us." Dewdrop sneered crossing his arms behind his back.

"Dew, you caught the poor girl's dress on fire!" Copia protested waving his hands around wildly

Dewdrop's smile was anything but innocent. "I was showing her a party trick."

Swiss snorted beside him making Rain whack the Multi-Ghoul on the arm with disapproval. "Papa we'll be on our best behavior I promise!" Rain vowed before giving his packmates a glare. "Right?"

Phantom snickered but it ended up in a cough as he met the small Water Ghoul's stern glare. "Right, we promise Papa."

Copia huffed and nodded just as the doors to his office opened and a Sister walked in. "Papa, your guest has arrived." she announced as she stepped aside to allow the figure behind her to step up.

She was not at all what any of them had imagined. She was not of their Ministry, an outsider very much out of place standing in Copia's lavished office and it made the Ghouls so silent as Papa stepped forward with an extended hand to shake the one the young woman offered.

"Ah, Mrs. Whitmore thank you so much for coming on such short notice!" the man said as he shook the woman's hand before placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I should be thanking you, Copia. I was really intrigued when we spoke earlier about this proposition," she replied with a warm smile. "And please, call me Ari."

"Si...please take a seat!" Copia waved her over as he shuffled behind his desk.

The woman, Ari gracefully moved over to the chairs; casting a friendly smile towards the masked figures standing off to the side before sitting down and placing her leather carrier case on the ground by her feet. She wore civilian clothes, a simple pair of jeans, and a warm cream-colored sweater that was sure to keep her warm in the cold season of Autumn that swirled leaves through the abbey with its chilly breath. Her hair was dark brown and curly; pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of her head. Definitely not what they had imagined when the Ghouls were informed a new replacement was being put on the Ghost Project as a manager; in all honesty, they had expected an older woman in her mid-forties - Sister Imperator's age...not this....lovely creature sitting there right now.

She was so attentive and open as she spoke with Copia, coming well prepared as she slipped a notebook from her bag to take notes on as she listened to the papa speak; jotting down vital information to store for later, no doubt.

"Ah, and before I forget and get ahead of myself this is a file of all my ghouls with their personal information that has been taken down and noted from the previous managers to ease your transition-" The file that was pushed towards her came to a halt as she placed her hand on it; stopping its movements.

Her smile was small but sincere as she pushed it back to the man across from her. "I won't need it." she said sitting back.

"But-but Mrs. Ari-" Copia floundered in confusion; only going silent when she tipped her head at him with an amused smile tugging at her lips.

"Copia, I would like to get something straight. I do not plan to leave anytime soon or be run off. The others who worked for you taking care of your needs and those of the ghouls while on tour lacked one particular detail that is vital to a job like this; I can tell you that much without having to meet the previous managers."

"And what is that mio caro?" the man asked curiously

"They lacked a sense of vulnerability to this job." she lifted a hand idly as she spoke and waved it around as she continued.

"I presume since they did not last long they didn't take the care to actually get to know the ghouls they had under their care. They saw a job that needed to be done and when the pressure of their personalities got the best of them - they left because they couldn't handle it. They didn't see their job as anything more than a paycheck and that was their first mistake, their second was that they didn't take the time to understand the ghouls and their needs; instead looked at them as if they were just a hindrance or a child they were having to babysit. What differentiates me from them, is that I do, in fact, care about this project. Not because of the pay." she turned her gaze to the silent group that had yet to make a sound since she arrived.

"I care because I know they are not just an object to be used as a tool for this project. Without them, the project wouldn't be possible and thus they deserve as much respect as they do the comfort of knowing they won't be overlooked and undermined simply because they are not human as you and I." she returned her attention to the man; her laugh of delight at his gobsmacked expression causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle as she smiled at him.

"So, I won't need those files. Everything I need to know about your ghouls, Copia I will learn on my own by actually getting to know them personally; not basing them off of a spreadsheet in a folder." she pushed the file back towards him before closing her notebook and putting it away into her own bag.

"Now, I know we spoke about the details of my job description but I hope you would shed some light on what I can do to help when we are not on tour. What will my duties off tour include?" she folded her hands in her lap and stared across at the skull-faced man; waiting patiently for him to pick his jaw up off the floor and gather his own thoughts before speaking.

"Ah, si. So, it is no real difference then what is expected of you on tour. You will manage their practice schedule, and make sure they have everything they need when the seasons change; each ghoul is particularly sensitive to the change of seasons for obvious reasons. When not with the ghouls I will need your help with planning out the setlist of the next tour, being there for practices to make sure everything is going well, taking notes when needed; booking venues and ticket booth stuff as well as merch stalls while we aren't on tour. Planning for the future tours and such." Papa explained watching as Ari nodded slowly while she took in his words.

She was not stressed in the least; the amount of work that seemed to be piled onto her plate was a rather big task to partake in but she didn't sweat it and instead took in the information carefully; the look in her eyes making Copia imagine her gears turning as she filed away data.

"And lodgings?" the woman finally replied.

"You will be staying in the manager's suit across the hall from the Ghoul's wing for easy access when you're needed. I hope that is alright with you?" Copia looked suddenly nervous but relaxed when Ari merely shrugged and pursed her lips.

"Sounds like a solid plan, now before we end this meeting Papa would you mind giving me the previous work files of the last manager on duty so I can see where they left off?"

"Si si...you certainly don't miss a beat." Copia laughed as he rolled away a bit to dig through a drawer in his desk.

"What can I say? I'm very thorough." she gave a playful wink before extending a hand to grab the rather large stack of folders labeled differently on the wings.

"Thank you, Ari. We look forward to a long and fruitful partnership." Copia gave her a warm look and Ari returned it with one of her own before she grabbed her bag from the floor and rose to her feet with the folders tucked against her chest.

"Likewise, Copia. Now, if you don't mind...I do have a few bags that are waiting in the lobby for me to take to my new quarters and I'll retire for the evening to sort all this mess out." she tapped the folders with a finger.

"Si si mio caro. We'll talk more tomorrow, if you need me I'll either be in here or in my bed chambers down the hall! In the meantime, my ghouls will show you the way."

Ari nodded and headed for the door, pausing only briefly to look over her shoulder when she heard footsteps behind her. She snorted a bit as she opened the office door and slipped into the hallway; joined moments later by the black-clad figures.

"You aren't a very talkative bunch, are you? that's alright, I'm sure we'll get to know each other soon." she said as she followed the group down the hallway.

"Did you mean it?" a voice spoke up shyly to her right causing her head to swivel to peer at an average height Ghoul as he walked right behind her shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"About what you said back there to Papa. About us." he clarified.

"Of course I did! I don't say things I don't mean, honey," she replied with a small smile. "Now I know my word means nothing to you. Trust isn't something that's easily given when it comes to strangers but I hope we all can be friends while we work closely together, alright?"

The ghoul nodded once before falling back into silence as they led her toward the Ghoul Wing. They stopped at a wooden double door across the hall from another and paused there.

"We'll have someone bring you your luggage in a few minutes. In the meantime, Mrs. Whitmore this is where we will part ways..." the tallest of the ghouls spoke up in a rumble.

"Thank you for the escort." Ari smiled back at him before turning to open the door only to stop when another voice piped up.

"Hey! Err, before you go...we just wanted to let you know we appreciate what you said back there to Papa and...if you want...we'd like for you to join us at our table for breakfast in the morning, for proper introductions and such, y'know?"

Ari chuckled and turned to look at them. "I would love that!"

"Okay, cool. We'll uh, we'll come pick you up?" it was stated more as a question than a statement and Ari smirked in amusement.

"Sounds like a plan. Goodnight, guys. Sleep well." And with her parting words, she slipped through the door and softly closed it behind her.

~

Chapter 2

Taglist: @darklylucid @strawberry-moonpies

[ten-shiriya23]

ghost mom

so my mind suddenly said "give Danny a ghost mom(other than Pandora)" so here we go.

I wanna know u guys opinion on which is most likely to fit the dp world as ghost and be a mom for Danny

First is my spider theme inspired by the spider mom from demon slayer and senjumaru from bleach

Second is the butterfly theme idea inspired by aponia from hi3 and ryoba aishi from Yansim 1980's node

Lastly is my peacock theme idea inspired by the Lord shen Ling skin from Mobile legends and Kafka from hsr

thx for stopping by

also tagging people cuz im giving them love(platonically)(sorry)

@hugsandchaos @kizzer55555 @13thdoodle @slashersthehorror @dcxdpdabbles @that-weird-thing-in-the-woods @anonymous-existences

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Please bless us with Erik smut. Please, please, please. Please.

needed to write this for forever lol warnings/tags-smut, Soft!Erik, Sub-leaning Switch!Erik, Body Worship, Reverent Sex, Gentle Sex, Praise Kink, First Time (Together), Overstimulation (light), Emotional Sex, Crying During Sex, Use of Romanized Persian with translations (my fav lil headcanon) Slight Angst with Comfort, Vulnerability, Loving Sex, Begging, Gentle Dirty Talk, Mutual Consent

word count-1966

The candles bathed the underground lair in a dim, golden haze, each flicker of flame casting long, trembling shadows across the stone. You stood before him, heart hammering in your chest, and for once, Erik didn’t hide behind the mask.

His face, half-ruined and all beautiful, looked at you like you were salvation incarnate.

"Azizam..." he breathed, voice shaking. -My dear...-

You closed the small distance between you. His breath hitched, visible even in the warm air. His fingers hovered near you — not touching — trembling with the desperate restraint of a man who had convinced himself for too long that he did not deserve gentleness.

You took his hand and guided it to your waist.

His knees almost buckled.

He looked at you with awe, his chest heaving beneath his dark, open shirt. You saw the faint sheen of sweat at his temple, the quick dart of his tongue over his lower lip.

"please..." he whispered brokenly, forehead bowing low toward your shoulder, like he needed permission even now.

"Touch me, Erik," you whispered. "I'm yours."

The sound he made was almost a sob.

At first, he only traced the hem of your dress with the very tips of his fingers, feather-light touches like he thought you might vanish. His hands traveled reverently, memorizing you through cloth, hesitant and breathless.

Slowly, you guided his hand higher. His palm was calloused, his fingers long and skilled from a lifetime of instruments and creation — and they trembled like they held something sacred.

You felt his lips brush your neck, tentative and adoring, his breath hot and uneven.

"Zendegi-ye man..." he murmured against your skin, voice almost breaking. -My life-

You tangled your fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer. Erik gasped softly, his body pressing against yours — careful, like he thought he might crush you with all the aching love he had no idea how to contain.

When you tugged his shirt open wider, revealing the paleness of his chest, Erik flinched. Shame flickered across his face, but you cupped his cheek, kissing the untouched side first, then — slowly, gently — pressed your lips to the scarred half.

His whole body shuddered.

"the most..beautfiul soul" he choked out.

Your clothes soon joined the scattered silks and music sheets littering the floor, and Erik stood back for a moment — just looking at you.

If worship could take physical form, it would have been his gaze.

He reached for you with both hands now, unafraid, splaying his palms over your bare waist like he was grounding himself to the earth.

His hands skimmed your ribs, reverent, as though he was trying to memorize the very shape of you. He sank to his knees before you, head bowed low in a posture of worship so pure it made your throat tighten.

"Let me..." he whispered, voice ragged.

You threaded your fingers into his hair, and Erik looked up at you with wide, adoring eyes — waiting, asking for a permission he already had.

You nodded.

That was all he needed.

His lips brushed your hipbone, a feather of a kiss. You felt him murmur something against your skin — the words too soft to catch — but the way his hands clutched your thighs spoke louder than anything he could have said.

When his mouth moved between your legs, it was not with hunger — not yet — but with trembling devotion. He kissed you like he was praying. Each brush of his tongue, each open-mouthed kiss against your most sensitive places, was achingly slow, almost unbearably tender.

You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He whimpered softly at the tug, the sound vibrating against your core.

"Shirinam..." he breathed against you. -my sweet one-

The air was thick with the scent of candle wax and stone and you, and Erik devoured it, nose pressed close, breathing you in like you were air and he had been drowning.

When he finally slid his tongue between your folds, your knees nearly buckled. Erik caught you, strong hands grasping your hips, anchoring you to him.

He worked you open with devastating patience, every movement unhurried, savoring, like he thought he might die if he went too fast and missed even a second of you.

You felt his moan more than you heard it — the vibration sent shudders rippling up your spine.

"Erik," you gasped, grinding your hips against his mouth.

He whimpered, the sound raw and desperate.

"May God strike me dead if you ever flee from me..." he mumbled brokenly in Persian.

The words, heavy with aching devotion, struck something deep in you. You tugged his hair harder, needing more, needing him closer.

Erik groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he abandoned any remaining restraint.

He licked into you with long, broad strokes, moaning softly with every taste. His nose bumped your clit again and again, almost shyly at first, but growing bolder when he felt you shiver and gasp.

Your thighs quivered around his head.

When you felt yourself teetering on the edge, he drew back slightly, resting his forehead against your hip, panting like he had just run a marathon.

"Look at me..." he whispered hoarsely.

You looked down — and nearly wept at the sight.

Erik, disheveled and flushed, his mouth glistening with you, his eyes worshiping you, like you were the only thing in existence that mattered.

"Please... give yourself to me..." he pleaded.

You cradled his face in both hands, pulling him up, and kissed him deeply.

He moaned into your mouth — the sound broken, starved — tasting yourself on his lips.

Without breaking the kiss, Erik lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the velvet-draped bed at the center of the room. He laid you down like you were something fragile, precious.

When he drew back to look at you, his chest heaved with ragged, barely-contained emotion.

"You're perfect," you whispered.

He shook his head, a tear sliding down his ruined cheek.

"You are the perfect one... I only want to worship you..." he said, voice shaking.

Erik’s bare chest pressed flush against yours, his skin hot and trembling. You could feel how hard he was, straining against the last barrier between you — but he made no move to take. Not yet.

He nuzzled your neck, breathing you in, like he was still trying to convince himself you were real.

"Please," you whispered against his ear, "I want you."

He shuddered violently, lifting his head so you could see the desperate, worshipful look in his golden eyes.

"my amour... please..." he rasped.

You guided his hand down, brushing it between your thighs, letting him feel the wetness he had coaxed from you. Erik moaned, the sound raw and guttural.

Carefully, reverently, he pushed down the last of his trousers, freeing himself. You caught only a glimpse of him — thick, flushed, dripping at the tip — before Erik buried his face against your shoulder again, as if ashamed of how much he needed you.

You tilted his face up with gentle fingers under his chin.

"I want all of you," you whispered fiercely. "All of you, Erik."

Tears glazed his eyes, though they did not fall.

Slowly — as if terrified he might hurt you — he positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of him nudging against your slick folds.

He was panting raggedly now, whispering under his breath:

"Azizam... zendegi-ye man... ah, lotfan..." -My dear... my life... ah, please...-

You rocked your hips upward in invitation.

Erik cried out softly, a sound like a prayer, and began to push inside.

The stretch was slow, careful — almost agonizingly gentle. He paused after every inch, trembling all over, giving you time to adjust.

You could feel the restraint in every line of his body, every shaking breath. He was desperate to lose himself in you — you could feel it — but he held back with iron control, terrified of hurting you.

His face hovered above yours, eyes screwed shut, teeth gritted, a low, broken moan dragging from his throat as he sank deeper.

"You feel..." He gasped for air. "You feel like heaven."

When he was finally fully seated inside you, Erik's entire body sagged against yours. He clutched you to him, arms shaking, forehead pressed to yours, breathing like he had climbed a mountain.

"Give yourself to me... give me all of you..." he whispered hoarsely.

"You have me," you breathed, cupping his scarred cheek. "Always."

Erik made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, overwhelmed beyond words.

At first, he barely moved — just rocked his hips in shallow, trembling thrusts, savoring the feeling of being inside you. Every inch of him screamed with desperate need, but he still treated you like something sacred.

His mouth roamed your skin — kissing, mouthing, murmuring broken little Persian and french nicknames between gasps.

The sounds of him — the soft wet press of his kisses, the choked, reverent moans, the broken little gasps of your name — filled the room.

He moved slowly, dragging himself out nearly to the tip before sinking back in with trembling care.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He gasped your name, hips stuttering.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, voice thick and breaking. "Made for me... made for me..."

Your hands traced every inch of him you could reach — his back, the strong line of his spine, the tremble in his arms as he fought to keep his thrusts slow, gentle.

You could feel how close he was, how he trembled with the effort to hold back. His whole body was tight as a bowstring.

"Let go," you whispered against his ear. "Please, Erik. I want it. I want you."

He whimpered, desperate.

"Lotfan... be man ejaze bede..." he gasped. (Please... allow me...)

"You have it," you breathed, pulling him even closer. "Let go. Please."

That was all it took.

Erik's hips snapped harder into yours, the control he'd fought so hard to keep finally shattering. His thrusts grew deeper, faster, though he never lost the tenderness — each movement still worshipful, still aching with love.

He kissed you through it — your lips, your jaw, your throat — like he was trying to memorize the taste of your skin, the way you gasped for him.

You tightened around him, the pleasure building fast and unstoppable.

Erik felt it — you saw it in the way his eyes went wide, the way he choked out a desperate, broken:

"Shirinam... zendegi-ye man...!" (My sweet... my life...!)

And then you were falling over the edge, gasping his name, your body clenching around him.

Erik cried out, voice cracking, and followed you, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself deep inside you.

He held you through it — arms wrapped around you, holding you so tightly you could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your chest.

When the aftershocks faded, Erik collapsed against you, utterly spent, breathing hard. He was trembling — not just from exertion, but from the overwhelming emotion that wracked his entire being.

You cradled his head against your shoulder, running gentle fingers through his damp hair.

For a long moment, he said nothing — just breathed you in, arms locked around you like he would never let go.

Then, in a voice so broken and tender it made your heart ache, he whispered:

"Azizam... delam barat tang shode bood..." (My dear... my heart was aching for you...)

You kissed his forehead, his scar, his lips — all of him, every part he had once believed unworthy of love.

"You have me," you said again, fiercely. "You will always have me."

Erik shuddered and pressed closer still, as though trying to meld his body into yours.

In the flickering candlelight, the Phantom of the Opera — the man who had lived so long in darkness, in self-loathing — finally let himself be loved. Finally let himself love.

[emotionalmessss]

hope you’re well ♥️ may i request a headcanon where yan!chrollo’s partner escaped but when he confronts them (or however you write it-it’s up to you!) they are really remorseful like “i knew i shouldn’t have left” on their own volition? thank you! ♥️

A/N: ouu, I really like this idea. I can never say no to Yan!Chrollo lol. I’d be more than happy to answer, and I’ll try my best! Thank you for the request, enjoy! :) (this ended up much longer than I expected)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping, kinda implied non-con, psychological abuse, hardcore manipulation. chrollo is a dick.

Chrollo is no saint, but he definitely has the patience of one–though only to a certain extent. With you, however, he seems to have all the fucking patience in the world. Because of Chrollo’s emotionally complex nature, I kind of feel like it’s difficult for him to form emotional attachments, especially with those outside the Troupe. Connections have never really been a priority for Chrollo, nor do they come easily to him. But, with you, it’s different. You’ve always stood out, and his relationship with you is something that he treasures deeply. In his own twisted way.

Ever since Chrollo first laid eyes on you, he’s been utterly fascinated–a reaction that probably confused him at first, considering his interests usually only involve the wellbeing of the Troupe, books, and stealing valuable objects and Nen abilities. Chrollo has utilized all his available resources to gather as much information about you as possible, spending countless hours studying every single aspect of your life. Say goodbye to your privacy because there’s no such thing when it comes to Chrollo. And sure, a few members of the Troupe probably found Chrollo’s behavior unusual, but they knew better than to question the boss.

Chrollo might be completely infatuated with you, but he’s not blind to how difficult the situation is for you–he is well aware of human nature, and even more familiar with you. In fact, he completely understands your struggles. But, does that mean he’s going to let you go? Fuck no. As far as captors go, Chrollo has been incredibly lenient with you, hoping that you’d eventually realize that there is no one else in the world that could cherish you the way he does. And when you escaped from him, you betrayed that sliver of trust he gave you.

Your escape was successful, congrats. Managing to slip past Chrollo’s defenses was a challenge in itself–and you should be proud–not everyone can outsmart the head of the Spider. But, that’s just the beginning, don’t celebrate just yet. Surely, you’ll have to deal with a fuck load of complications, like starting your life over from scratch, fending for yourself, constantly watching your back, and maybe, just maybe, going as far as adopting a completely new identity. Things couldn’t get any more complicated, could they? Oh, they can and they will. 

It wouldn’t be long before you started to doubt and question everything–your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your choices, and most importantly, Chrollo. You might’ve thought you had the upper hand, but somehow, for some fucking reason, Chrollo always has the last laugh. Chrollo would never allow himself to show it, but he would definitely feel slightly irritated with the situation and your behavior. You actually had the audacity to run away from him? Have you forgotten who he is and what he's capable of? It’s not very often that someone would defy him, and part of him secretly applauds your pathetic–yet somewhat amusing–actions. Did you truly believe that he wouldn’t be able to find you again? 

I’d imagine that Chrollo probably saw your sudden absence as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? No. Would he have expected you to be remorseful after escaping? Not entirely. Fortunately for him–and unfortunately for you–Chrollo knows you very fucking well. So well, in fact, that he’s become really good at predicting not only your next moves, but also what goes on in your head. He knew it wouldn’t take long for your mind to overwhelm you–that fresh start of yours isn’t feeling all that fresh anymore, is it? 

Chrollo wouldn’t go find you right away, no, he’d let you struggle for a bit before he made a move. The Troupe would probably question their boss’ somewhat unusual approach to the situation, but they wouldn’t push their luck–they knew better than to risk overstepping any boundaries, especially when it involves you and Chrollo. Just because his love for you is fucked up unconventional doesn’t mean he’s going to act impulsively to get you back, that's not how Chrollo operates, his methods are much more refined and efficient than that. 

But, that doesn’t mean Chrollo won’t be thinking of you. You’re always on his mind. He’d deny it, but the mental image of you–somewhere far away and stressed out, trying to move on with your life–was oddly satisfying. Some might say that’s cruel, but Chrollo sees it as conditioning. And Chrollo is a master manipulator. He may appear relatively passive on the outside, but you should never underestimate him. I feel like nothing is off-limits with Chrollo, and he’ll do anything and everything to make it impossible for you to leave him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. So, it's really not much of a surprise that you’re remorseful about running away. That’s exactly what he planned. 

From the very beginning, Chrollo has been subtly manipulating and conditioning you, instilling doubt and dependency within you. He’d isolate you from the outside world and from the other people in your life, both physically and emotionally. He kept you by his side, never allowing you to stray too far. Even when you thought you were alone, he was watching. He gave you the illusion of freedom–a door that was occasionally left unlocked, access to his entire apartment, the opportunity to go outside, but only with him. He’d make you question the relationships you had with everyone that wasn’t him, slowly turning you against them. Do they actually care about you? Do they actually understand you like he does? Those were his ways of making sure there was nobody else you can interact with, forcing you to become dependent on him for everything.

Chrollo wouldn’t stop there. There were times when he would let his guard down, allowing you to see moments of vulnerability. He would tell you things–his past, his thoughts–enough to make you believe there was more to him than the monster you feared. When you eventually opened up to him about your own thoughts, he’d listen. He always listened so fucking carefully. He made you feel like he understood you better than anyone else ever had, or ever could.

And it all paid off in the end. For him, at least.

It’s almost been two months without Chrollo and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. In fact, your newfound freedom feels fucking horrible. It doesn’t make sense–you should be thrilled that you’ve managed to escape after being held captive for one year. You had planned this escape for months, spending countless nights going over it again and again in your head until it was foolproof. It worked, yet you were far from satisfied.

Feeling more than a little conflicted about your state of mind, you move to sit on the couch in your living room. The old, faded piece of furniture creaks beneath your weight as you settle into the cushions. It felt cold and unfamiliar. The couch was probably older than you–faded, torn, and pilling–unlike the expensive plush one that Chrollo has. That one felt warm and familiar. Anxiously, you stir your half drank cup of coffee and take a sip, grimacing slightly. Even his fucking coffee was better than yours. 

This new life was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it was a constant reminder of everything you left behind. It seems that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get Chrollo out of your mind. Every little sound–footsteps, doors opening–sent you into fight or flight mode, always on edge. It felt like you were living with a shadow that was slowly closing in, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to run away from it. Fear, longing, and resentment were just a few of the emotions you’ve learned to cope with, but it never got any easier. 

Part of you missed the late night, deep conversations, the way he listened intently, as if your words were the most important thing in the world. Now, your nights are restless, haunted by constant nightmares involving a certain raven haired man. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome? There’s no way to be sure–therapy costs money, and you aren’t exactly rolling in it. Your hands tremble as you place the mug down, spilling the dark liquid all over the side table. Still trapped in your mind, you get up from the shitty couch and head towards the kitchen, moving to grab a rag to clean up the equally shitty coffee. 

A small creak from behind catches your attention, making you pause momentarily to glance over your shoulder. Like countless other times, there's nothing there. Maybe you don’t even need a psych to diagnose you, since you’re already going insane. Sighing, you grab the rag and start walking back toward the living room. 

“A bit late for coffee, is it not?” The smooth sounding voice instantly makes you freeze in place, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. There’s a certain lightness in his tone that’s not usually present–it’s almost like he’s teasing yet chiding you. Either way, you weren’t going to concern yourself with the semantics.

It feels like your body has been completely paralyzed. Yet, somehow, you manage to summon the courage to slowly turn your gaze towards the source of the voice, finding it at the front entrance of your apartment. What you see is enough to make you feel faint, your head spinning and your stomach dropping like a stone–it’s Chrollo, looming in the doorway, his large eyes focused solely on you as a soft, enigmatic smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, a whimper escapes your lips and your mind suddenly kicks into overdrive, frantically attempting to process the overwhelming reality of what’s happening. All those conflicting thoughts from moments ago flood back into your mind.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the relief of finally seeing him again and the chilling fear of what this unexpected encounter might bring. You had started a new life here, a life that was simpler, quieter, more peaceful. But as you stand there, facing Chrollo and the flood of memories he brings, you can't help but question–was it truly peace? You must’ve only been standing there–stuck in your thoughts–for a few minutes, but Chrollo seems to notice your dazed state and decides to speak up again, effectively snapping you back to reality. 

“May I come in? We have so much to discuss.” Chrollo says, his voice as gentle and as reassuring as you remember. Without waiting for your response, he's already stepping across the threshold and moving into your apartment, making his way toward the living room. His approach is calm and measured. It’s almost as if he’s been in your apartment a thousand times before, and as if he has all the time in the world. Rooted to the spot, your hand trembles as you clutch the damp rag, watching as Chrollo takes your previously occupied seat on the couch.

“Chrollo?” You find yourself whispering, your voice barely more than a shaky exhale, hesitant and filled with uncertainty. Saying his name after the silence of these past months feels strange, foreign, but oddly enough, you find yourself not hating it. Chrollo doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he sinks deeper into the couch, leaning back casually and letting his hands rest on top of his thighs. The silence stretches on, lingering too long, and a part of you believes he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You seem troubled,” Chrollo observes, his dark eyes softening a fraction. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” He insists softly, tilting his head toward the empty spot next to him on the couch, a silent command for you to join him. Despite his calm demeanor, it’s quite clear that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He won’t deny it–your little escape was mildly infuriating. But he wasn’t entirely without compassion–at least, that’s what he liked to believe.

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, each breath feeling like a struggle, as if your lungs are refusing to expand. Your vision blurs as tears gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. You’ve reached your breaking point–the emotions you’ve been painstakingly avoiding have finally surfaced. The ache of remorse gnaws at you, a torrent of regret and guilt that you've been desperately trying to suppress. You open your mouth to respond–to say something, anything at all–but find yourself choking pitifully on a sob, no words coming out. 

The tears start to fall, pouring down your cheeks as you stumble blindly toward the couch, dropping the rag on the ground and barely registering the resigned sigh that Chrollo lets out. You plop down onto the couch next to Chrollo, feeling utterly pathetic about your current state. Not even a second later, Chrollo’s arm slips behind your back and wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body toward his. You don’t fight it, instead allowing your face to bury into the comforting warmth of his chest, while his hand gently cradles the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, your voice cracking as you sob into his chest. 

Chrollo’s quiet again, the silence only broken by your sniffles and unsteady breaths. His fingers thread soothingly through your hair, softly shushing you. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he reassures, his voice stripped of its usual firmness, now softer, gentler, almost tender. His expression remains unreadable as he looks down at you, his eyes revealing nothing of thoughts that are undoubtedly coursing through his mind right now. Internally, however, he feels a tinge of satisfaction upon hearing your apologetic pleas. Maybe things can go back to the way they were, or maybe they'll morph into something new, something better. 

There’s another pause, a moment where he lets you compose yourself. He doesn't mention your escape, or the remorse you've shown–not just yet. In truth, Chrollo is not the least bit surprised by your emotional spiral. He knows you well enough to understand that this is not merely a reaction to his relentless pursuit and eventual discovery of your whereabouts. No, this is an entirely different kind of response, one born out of internal conflict.

If it were any other man in this position, they might have felt guilty for putting you through so much torment. But Chrollo is not ‘any other man.’ Far from it. As he watches you break down in his arms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. He doesn’t see your suffering as something he should apologize for. Why would he? For Chrollo, he sees this as a necessary consequence of the bond he’s carefully created. And he can see that you’re finally starting to understand.

During your time together, Chrollo had a way of making you question everything. Slowly but surely, he instilled a sense of doubt and dependency within you. It was never obvious. That wasn’t his style. 

He had a way of making you believe that the outside world was cruel and dangerous. Every time he caught you looking at the door, he’d remind you–without even needing to say a word–that he was the only one who could truly protect you. A raised brow and slight tilt of his head was more than enough to remind you of everything he had told you before. He was never threatening about it, he didn’t need to be. A simple look from him was all it took for you to hesitate, to second-guess walking out that door. 

Would it really be better out there than here? Could you really handle Yorknew City? Surely, there were people out there much worse than him, right? People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone like you. You could imagine it so vividly: faceless men with rough hands that wouldn’t give a shit about you, your struggles, or your pleas. They’d only see you as a pretty little thing to use. Chrollo never said it outright, but the implication was always there: he wasn’t like them. His touches, though somewhat unwelcome and borderline possessive, were never violent. 

At least with Chrollo, you knew the rules and boundaries–his rules and boundaries. And he never lied to you, not really. The world really was dangerous. There really were people out there who would hurt you. He made sure that you believed he was the best choice. And who else was there for you, really? Not your friends, the ones he slowly convinced you that they didn’t care as much as they claimed. Not your family, who couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of your situation. No, it was just Chrollo. He wasn’t the monster you wanted him to be. He was something far worse: he was everything you didn’t know you needed. And that was much more fucking terrifying.

Finally pulling himself from his thoughts, Chrollo decides that he’s made you suffer in silence for long enough. “You should not have tried to escape, [name],” he says, his voice gentle but carries a clear note of criticism and disappointment. He deliberately uses your name, refraining from the endearing nicknames he usually employs. It's a subtle punishment, a way to remind you of your mistakes. He knows exactly what kind of impact it has on you–how the distance it creates makes you feel small, like a reprimanded child. “Predictably, it didn’t end well.” His tone is soft, almost conversational.

Chrollo pauses again, his fingers suddenly halting their soothing rhythm in your hair. Abruptly, he withdraws the comforting contact, depriving you of the warmth you didn’t even realize you’d come to depend on. You can’t stop yourself from tensing in his arms, struggling to stifle a choked sob. You can’t see it–not with your teary face buried in his chest–but there’s a faint curl of his lips, a flicker of satisfaction at your reaction. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh, his hand pulling away from your scalp completely. Now it rests on the frayed backrest of the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the rough fabric. 

“Running… it doesn’t suit you.” The words are so plain, so final. It's not suggestion or opinion, but a fucking fact. It’s the way he always spoke to you, as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. “It only leads you to pain and suffering. Surely, you’ve realized that by now?” There is no anger or frustration in his voice, just that same steady, disorientating calm that makes you second-guess everything. He speaks as if this entire situation is simply an inconvenience to him, which makes it near impossible to decipher his true thoughts and feelings. 

And then, Chrollo gently but firmly tilts your head up, leaving no room for you to resist him. Not like it would do you any good. Forcing you to meet his gaze, he studies you intently, his dark eyes partially shielded by the strands of raven hair that fall across his pale face. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he murmurs, and for some reason, it felt more like he was mocking you rather than giving you a genuine compliment. “I’m certain that you can grasp the situation.” As he speaks, his grip on your face tightens significantly, hinting at the threat that lies beneath his words. It’s his little way of telling you that you should know better.  

You wince as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your jaw, more out of surprise than pain. The pressure isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to remind you of his control. You don’t have much faith in your ability to form a coherent sentence right now, not when your throat feels tight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Instead, you nod in response, hoping it’s enough. 

Chrollo’s eyes flicker with approval, and maybe a hint of amusement. It’s impossible to be sure with him. He releases your jaw as he lets out a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, now wiping away a few stray tears from your damp cheeks. The gesture should feel comforting, but instead, it leaves you feeling hollow, like being soothed after a punishment you never deserved. “Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue easily, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re emotional,” he says, almost to himself. “But you’ll understand in time.”

“It’s time to go home. We’ll continue this conversation later,” He adds, reminding you that this matter is far from resolved.