#would he be the worst yandere out of the troupe?

[sk3tch404]

Thought of this for a sec and was like, "yeah 🤔🙂"

#ultimategamermoment

Also I have not played on a Gameboy in like 8 years nor have I touched a Nintendo ever. So.. yeah.

[animeyanderelover]

What if Hisoka, Kurapika, Illumi, and Uvogin (separately) meet a darling who's nen is ridiculously over powered with very little drawbacks. For example she has full control of the sun and could easily incinerate a whole continent but instead just uses it to give her garden the best growing light or get the sun out of her eyes when driving. Ultimate power but a complete pacifist.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, overprotective behavior, manipulation, isolation, blackmailing, threats, isolation

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Ultimate power yet a pacifist

Kurapika Kurta

⛓️​Kurapika would probably have some mixed feelings about a darling as powerful as you. He's delusional in the sense that he believes that he has to protect you and isolate you for your own safety as he has made himself an enemy of the Phantom Troupe who would have no hesitation to target you for revenge or to use you as a hostage. Yet he is not delusional enough to fool himself that you wouldn't be able to fight all by yourself due to your ridiculously overpowered Nen. On the one hand there is most likely a sliver of relief, mainly because he isn't optimistic enough to believe that he can protect you all time which is why he is partially relieved to know that you would be able to defend yourself if worst comes to worst. On the other hand it is the sheer scale of your abilities that seems to rob him of the purpose of the provider and protector he would like to fulfill for you as you technically don't even need his protection. This is what is messing with his thoughts for quite some time to the point where he even sometimes considers using his Steal Chain on you to steal your Nen abilties though he probably would never steal your Nen ability forever from you even if he should snatch it away.

⛓️​He'd probably be more prone to use his Steal Chain on you during the first phase of his obsession where he is still quite paranoid and has to work through his suffocating feelings of infatuation and fear of losing you. It takes Kurapika some time before the worst seems to be over in regards of his paranoia and only then will he actually pay more mind to your own words. It seems somewhat baffling to him that someone with such immense powers as you would have no interest to use them for a fight or conflict which is why he will use his Dowsing Chain on you to determine whether you lie or not and only after he has confirmed that you speak the truth would he slowly consider giving your abilities back to you before eventually doing so. Additionally once he is aware that you hate using your Nen to fight and hurt others he finds a justified purpose for isolating you and protecting you. You have a pure and innocent heart despite your overpowered Nen and he plans to see it through that you will never have to endure the horror of a real fight though he also has you swearing to him that if there should be a time where he can't protect you that you will at least use your abilities to defend yourself.

Hisoka Morow

🃏​You can bid your peaceful days of living a normal and serene life goodbye the moment this clown finds out just how ridiculous your Nen abilities really are. Hisoka lives for the thrill of fighting strong opponents to the point where he will go through meticulous plans to fulfill his desire to fight the people he has chosen as his target. So you can probably imagine his distaste when he finds out that you have no interest to ever use your abilities for a fight. Are you not bored yet of living such an idle life? Everything you stand for is essentially everything he doesn't want. Hisoka doesn't want a calm and nice life in a little cottage, stuck in the same pattern that repeats itself every single day. He'd die of boredom. You're wasting your time and your talent in this little village and he is more than adamant to convince you of his point of view. He's more persistent than a cockroach as he constantly pops up in front of your door or sometimes even breaks into your house where you find him on the couch as he shuffles his cards, remarking how exceptionally unexceptional your interior is. If you really believe that this is what you want you must be lying to yourself.

🃏When initial persuasion doesn't do the job Hisoka starts taking more extreme measurements, now with the goal to anger you and test just how far he can take it with your patience. Initially he starts subtly threatening to hurt people you care about or pets you might keep, gauging your reactions. It would be very unwise to react with anger or fear as Hisoka will target those feelings instantly, realising that there is a chance that he might crack you. As he has no morals nor limitations with the things he would do simply to get what he desires you might see yourself forced to use your abilities before he can kill someone, though you still refuse to kill him. If you were to do that though you would only turn him on, tease him by giving him a taste of your power only to leave him then hanging. It's like giving a a man dying of thirst a drop of water only to then disappear. Once he has gotten a taste Hisoka will long for more and he will do anything to get more from you. If he has to target innocent pets or people for that he will do so. He doesn't mind if you hate him for it. The only thing he won't tolerate is if you were to ignore him in which case he would do anything to elicit a reaction out of you.

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎​For Illumi the situation wouldn't be entirely pleasant either as he is someone who is very controlling over his obsession and for that it just feels wrong for him to know that you are as powerful as you are. From the very beginning he interrogates you just on how your Nen works and what you can do with it as he immediately wants to make plans in case you should decide to misbehave and think that you can escape him because you are as mighty as you are. He strongly discourages you from using your powers at all even for harmless purposes yet some of his other family members most likely have a different view on the subject. Whilst Kikyo supports Illumi and believes that you should properly submit to him as his spouse it is most likely Zeno who takes interest in your abilities and would encourage you to use them more often, though he has other things in mind than just wasting it on the domestic tasks you often use them for. After all an ability such as yours would only add to the fearsome reputation of the Zoldyck family even if you weren't trained as an assassin since the moment you could crawl around. Tension definitely exists over those topics in the family.

🤎​Simple reassurances from your side that you have no plan to ever use your abilities for other purposes than making some domestic chores easier do not work on Illumi. He needs the feeling of control over you and if he doesn't have it there is this unbearable pull in his chest that agitates him subtly all the time. A needle will be used on you for that purpose so that he has some form of power over you so that you will never be able to even think about ever wielding your abilities against him and his family. He installs the fear and the panic inside of you and he finds himself enjoying the sight of you breaking out in cold sweat and your body freezing afterwards, feelings he forces you to feel when you anger him. Only after he has seen himself that his needles have worked on you will he take it that little bit easier though he does make sure that those feelings of fear and intimidation stay prominent on your mind so that you never forget them. Only after he has established that hold over you might he allow you to se your Nen ability for harmless activities though you always need to ask for his permission beforehand unless you wish to displease him.

Uvogin

🫀​Physically Uvogin is stronger than you but your Nen is a lot more versatile and powerful which means that you could probably still beat him in a fight if it came down to it. That isn't something that Uvogin initially considers nor realises, mainly because he has only ever seen you use your powers to make domestic chores easier and to help you in your everyday life. He doesn't feel threatened, especially since you are such a pacifistic person who despises violence and death. Ironic considering that he is everything that you loathe yet he is smart enough to hold himself back, at least when he is with you. Both of you have a great relationship after all although you remain in the dark about his identity as a member of the Phantom Troupe. Otherwise things may take a turn for the worse which is something Uvogin doesn't really want. So he keeps on pushing the problem away until one day something goes wrong which then leaves him with no choice but to abduct you as otherwise you might be a burden for the troupe if you were to remain free and would leak information. The revelation puts a strain on the relationship, especially once you figure out that Uvogin has killed for you.

🫀​Both of you have kept secrets and whilst his is a lot more grave, Uvogin is still slightly hurt when he finds out that you never bothered to tell him that you could wipe out an entire city if you wanted to. At this point he knows you well enough to believe you though when you inform him that you have no interest to ever use your Nen for criminal purposes which is why he allows you to use it freely for the same things you used it before you got kidnapped. He's after all there to protect you and see it through that no one with bad intentions gets close to you. Honestly, Chrollo is probably a bigger threat here than Uvogin is because he would be immensely interested in a Nen as powerful as yours with little drawbacks and conditions to fulfill to use it. In fact he has tried multiple times to persuade Uvogin to let him steal your Nen yet this is one thing that Uvogin is unwilling to do for his boss, especially since you know what Chrollo would use your Nen for. It's only because you are Uvogin's darling that Chrollo eventually pulls away with lingering disappointment though he never truly stops offering Uvogin the idea, especially if you should one day decide to use your abilities against him.

[citrus-writing]

yandere phantom troupe- depressed darling

Thinking about how most yanderes would be terrible at dealing with a darling with mental illness? Because even if darling already struggled with their mental health, being kidnapped and held hostage can't help. And no matter how badly their yandere wants to help, they can't ever let their darling go, even if it would help them more than anything. The best they can do is try to make life with them as good as possible.

This is written with depression in mind, but kinda blankets over any struggling mindset. (this doesn't mention any kind of self harm or suicidal ideation, i might make a part two touching on that, but this one is safe from that content.) 

---------

Chrollo, paku, and shal- all enable mental illness by accident. You're precious and helpless and so so weak, so it makes sense when you can't do things for yourself. Don't even worry about trying to get better, just be yourself- you're perfect, they don't want you to change at all (not even for the better). But all three of them would at least try to offer comforts, because they hate to watch your struggle and hurt. 

---

Pakunoda knows what kind of self care and healthy habits suit her, and she tries to push those on you. She'll run you a hot bath, light scented candles, paint your nails, get you a journal to write in. But if those things don't help you she doesn't really listen to what you want or need. She simply insists that she knows best and you're being difficult- she wants you to trust her judgement on this, even if you know she's wrong.

Chrollo notices immediately the shift in your mood and demeanor. He insists you talk to him about whatever's on your mind, even if all you really want is to keep your mind off it. He presents it as a way to help you, so you can get all those thoughts out of your head. Sometimes it works. Sometimes you're grateful that he listens so intently with no judgment. But sometimes you don't really want to share what's on you mind- but you don't really have a choice, and he always knows if you're keeping something from him. Anything you ask for is yours instantly, anything he can do to try to help you. But when you ask to go home, he looks at you like you’re not making sense. He reminds you, gently, that you ARE home. 

Shalnark is the worst of the three, he doesn't really offer much in the way of support, even though he thinks he does. He keeps you near him all the while, holding you close and trying to keep you from crying, constantly trying to distract you. But as soon as the distraction fades away you feel just as bad as before. It's a Viscious cycle, one that has you constantly needing to rely on him for comfort because there's no real progress being made. But that's OK, because he loves getting to dote on you. He really does think it’s going to help, keeping your mind off of it, but the truth that always comes back is your separated from everything in your life, everything you love, and he refuses to acknowledge that. 

--------

Machi, phinks and uvogin- both do their best to genuinely help, but neither of them are good at it. Both of them try to offer support however they can, because they both hate seeing their darling so miserable, but neither of them have a very good sense of how to help. At the very least, they are trying, and that counts for something. 

---

Machi knows a lot about medicine, between her nen and her extensive knowledge she can fix up almost any wound or injury. But with things like mental illness it's harder. She can't understand why you're so unhappy, and she can't figure out how to fix it. She even lets you outside (only in the backyard, and only with her) but it doesn't seem to help. She does a hundred thousand little things to try to help, from cooking your favorite food to buy you your favorite books to sewing or buying you new clothes. It's frustrating to not be able to help you and she hates being helpless in this. 

Phinks doesn't understand, and that makes him so much more volatile than he needs to be. He wants to be able to help you, and on some level, believes he should just know how to help you. It’s frustrating- almost infuriating- that he can't help you. And no matter what he does, how considerate he tries to be, it never helps. At the very least, he can't get mad at you when he sees how sad you are all curled up and crying. But being spared his fits of rage is one of the only upsides when he is so clueless on how to help. With phinks, I really do think you’re best off just asking for anything you need. He is willing to indulge you a little bit to make you feel better. 

Uvogin also does his best to help, but he’s equally bad at it. He doesn't have machi’s understanding of medicine, and is all around much less patient. But he is more patient and understanding than phinks. if it’s for you, he’ll do his best. Uvogin does his best to do little things he knows normally make you happy- from little jokes, to your favorite shows and music, to your favorite meals. And to be fair, life with him isn't nearly as bad as life with some of the other yanderes in the troupe, so he’s already better off than a lot of them. 

-----

Feitan, shizuku, illumi- Completely ignore it. Of course they notice you seem down- not like yourself, sad, depressed even. But what can they do? Isn't it enough they make sure to meet all of your physical needs, isn't it enough that you get to live with them, their darling pet? It had better be enough, because you’re very unlikely to get any kind of comfort. 

---

Feitan doesn't notice until it gets concerningly bad. Sure, he knew you were unhappy, miserable even. He didn't blame you for that, afterall, even he would admit he’s been cold to you. And since you've come here, you’ve been subjected to so many horrors it’s almost a given that your mind would be caving under the pressure. But Is he really so unbearable? He doesn't think so. For a while, he tries forcing you to go about your day with him like normal. But by now, he’s gotten used to seeing you smiling, acting almost lively, at least pretending to be happy. It grates on him that he can't see you smile now. He keeps you in your room, checking on you incessantly, but content to let you rest until you’re feeling better, or at least able to fake it. 

Shizuku is the most likely not to notice at all. She doesn't keep quite as close a watch over you as a lot of the other troupe yanderes do, and for the most part, you're grateful for that. But in this care, it’s not such a good thing, because if she noticed you were sad, of course she'd try to help. But sadness can be subtle, and unless you're outspoken about it, she might miss it. She loves you more than anything, but your moods and feelings are something she struggles to keep track of. It’s hard for her to know how you feel, and she doesn't know what you need without knowing how you feel. If you do manage to open up to her about how down you feel, she’s more willing to try to help you. 

Illumi has gone through quite a bit of trouble to make everything in your home suited to your tastes. Your clothes- while all picked out by him- are all in colors and patterns you like. Your meals- while all cooked by him- are all your favorites. Your bedroom- once again, set up by him- is almost perfectly to your taste as if it’d come straight out of your pinterest board. So what more could you possibly need? What needs of yours aren't being met? If you tell him, there’s a chance he’d listen, especially if the thing you need is simple. But don't even bother asking to be let go, or you will be punished, no matter how much you cry. 

[rotten-pomegranate]

hi! can i request reader escaping chrollo’s hold because she’s pregnant only for him to find her when the baby is a couple months old? how would they live their life out after that

thank you! 💝

Indeed

I just assumed the making of the baby was not by readers choice so extra warning for rape and also this is dark content

Warnings: mentions of potential abortion(very subtle), mentions of forced pregnancy, child endangerment, yandere

Not lying this is kinda ass I didn’t really have ideas for this one

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

After one of your more hellish nights with Chrollo he had brought you your favourite foods a couple weeks later as if it would make up for forcing himself on you and to yours and his surprise you gagged

Him and you both just brush it off at first but then you start to get sick in the morning and he brings home a pregnancy test for you to take and your absolutely horrified when it’s positive

You knew you had to get out because he would just use the baby to threaten you, that he wouldn’t actually care for it at all

When you ran away you didn’t have anything until you found a small shack in the middle of nowhere that you got to fix up

You gave birth to a sweet baby girl all on your own in that same shack, and it was the most painful thing you did

You hoped things would stay like this forever, growing your own fruits and vegetables in your garden

Waking up hearing the squirrels playing in the trees, the quietness of the night without the hostel and bustle of the city

One night you had just put the baby down and noticed the crickets stoped chirping

That was weird but it was probably just a bear that made them quiet like that

When you woke up the next morning and went to get your darling girl she was gone

You where panicking when you ran out of the house only to hit a hard chest

You recognized his shoes before you even looked up

No, no, no, no, no, this couldn’t happen, he found you, your biggest tormentor found you

He grabs you rougher then he ever has before

When he was pulling you out of the woods and to a car you seen your little girl sitting in a crapy car seat, at least she was safe

You seen some troupe members waiting, luckily it was Pakunoda sitting with your little sweetheart, you knew she was a bad person but she was nice and gentle on the outside

The went to different cars when you and chrollo emerged from the growth

He doesn’t talk the whole way going back to the city and to an old but nice house

Once inside with you and the baby he explains how things are gonna be, how your to keep quiet and raise the baby as you where doing before just this time without freedom

You and the baby will both have personal doctors that are both women

And your going on birth control

As for life it is as it was before, frustrating and hard when it came to Chrollo

He holds your privilege of seeing you baby over your head at every change that came along

When the child is old enough to stand up against him he’s probably gonna sell her into slavery whether you’ve been good or not

He might threaten her with physical harm if you start acting out again

He’s one of the worst people to have a baby with honestly

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

[dilys-min]

Aeipathy

Pairing: Yan!Chrollo Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Obsession, etc.

Word count: 2500+ words

For many things, Chrollo has never regretted the path he had taken.

He himself, like a phantom, exists only on the verge of hushed rumors and whispers of others, if there was anyone lucky enough to be alive to tell the tale after an encounter with the Troupe. To be vulnerable means to be seen, and to be seen will allow you to be hunted. Maybe that’s why he had chosen such a befitting title for the Troupe for it is only common for a phantom to remain in the dark, committing atrocities without the knowing of others.

He had thought that the picture that he had meticulously painted since the time when his name is the only thing he owns, a picture in which he is the greatest villain, spreading terrors to those who dare to cross paths with him or the Troupe, would last until the end of time. Or so he had thought, until you came. 

 .

 .

 The weather during autumn always feels chilly in this city, not enough to be cold, but enough to leave a tingling sensation on your skin. A breeze blows past, causing the leaves from the nearby maple trees to fall and coating the road with different shades of orange and red in the process. As a child, you would excitedly scurry off to the nearest pile of maple leaves before jumping into one, claiming to be making an angel out of the leaves when your mother scolded you for dirtying your clothes. All while your father laughed at the oddly familiar scene. It is a perfect day to-

 “Excuse me, miss!”. Woken from your daydreaming, you turn around to see the owner of the voice. A charming young man dressed in a beige trench coat, coupled with a turtleneck. A distinguishing feature you notice from him is the bandana wrapping around his forehead. As you realize that you have been staring at him quite long enough to be considered rude, you try to make up a respond when he continues

“Sorry to disturb you from your thoughts. I have been trying to find a way to the gallery and it seems that I haven’t gotten any luck in that. Perhaps you could show me the way? If it isn’t such a hassle to you of course”

“N-no, not at all. It seems like we were heading to the same direction after all. I could just show you the way there, if you don’t mind”.

Luckily, the man seems to not mind as he nods and begins following you. On the way, you would make sure to occasionally turn around to check up on him (which is absolutely unnecessary since he could easily outrun you if he wanted to). When it is only a few blocks away from the exhibition, the man behind you suddenly speaks up

“No matter how much you look at it. Rembrandt’s works always a sight to behold, right?”

A warm voice erupts from behind, attempting to break the silence and likely to prompt you into a conversation. You turn around just to see him gesturing toward a page about the information on the artist of the brochure occupying your hand. Normally, your shyness would come out at the worst of times, usually stirring you away by a nod of the head or a simple reply, not to be rude in others’ eyes but enough to let them know your intention. Maybe he was trying to break the awkward atmosphere between the two of you, but somehow, there is something about him that makes thought of a short conversation doesn’t sound too bad, you even feel a bit giddy. You aren’t particularly cut out for art nor did you exceptionally good at guessing the subtle meaning behind each picture, but it does feel nice to have someone you could share your interest to, even for a short time. 

“Well, it always has been. However, I actually have a different interest in mind when I come here”

“Oh, and what is that? Do tell”. You swear if you turn your back at the right time you could see how his eyes glimmer with a hint of curiosity, how his smile seems to widen a little more.  

“To be honest, I am not an encyclopedia of arts or am I in a place to be judging others’ works. But, truthfully, I have found myself more attracted to a work of John Everett Millias- "The Blind Girl”. You say sheepishly as heat slowly rises to your cheeks.

“There is no need to be shy about that. Must I say, you have quite an exquisite taste. Usually, when it comes to arts, people tend to associate with more universal names like Rembrandt or Salvador. So, it is quite refreshing to see someone who’s also on the same page as me”. His eyes crinkles as he goes on. 

You don’t know what spurs you on at that moment, maybe it’s the calming, unjudging demeanor of the stranger before you or maybe it’s the enthusiasm when someone shares the same interest with you. Either way, you have unconsciously found yourself strolling right next to him rather than marching forward.

“Yeah! People tend to be misguided when first looking into it. The painting seems to depict a normal couple of sisters enjoying the vibrant nature around them. Rather, it’s actually an allegory of the contrast between the blinded and the sighted. You can see that the younger girl shields away from the sun while her sister relishs in it, holding herself at a complete standstill just to enjoy the beauty of what surrounds her. If you take a closer look into-”

You quickly stop when it dawns on you what you are doing.

“Ah… Sorry if that was too much; I t-tend to get carried away when it comes to things like this-”

Great! You’ve done it again, you’ve probably scared off the poor man. It’s almost like a routine for you by now. You would meet someone and; you would proceed to overshare your hyperfixation on things to the said person and then; they would be weirded out and leave. At the end, you only have yourself to blame before going on and making the same mistake all over again. You just hope that there is a hole nearby so you could jump down and possibly live there for the rest of your life, maybe change your name in the process. But, you know that’s not gonna be the case and if you’re lucky, maybe he will at least be polite enough to continue to accompa-

“Please, don’t concern yourself over trivial matters. If anything, you are undermining yourself, dear.”

The endearment just rolled off his tongue with ease, like he was addressing a friend rather than a stranger. It’s a wonder how one’s mental state could drastically change in one single moment. Suddenly, the weather feels incredibly stifling despite it being mid-autumn; Has your cheeks always been this warm?

As though bemused by your stammering, he goes on

“Even so, what further entices me is why you happen to be so fascinated by the painting. Would you view it in the same light again, knowing that might be a pure act of compassion toward the fate of the two sisters?”

A soft smile appears on your face, taking away the place where a frown once resided. Instead of being offended, you find yourself unusually relaxed around him

“Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Honestly, I don’t know either.” A breathless laugh left your mouth and at the corner of your eyes, you could see his brows are burrowed, likely confused at your answer. 

“Be it a doing of my sympathy or just a passing interest. When I look at the painting, it feels like my mind, which has always been  at an impasse, could progress toward something now.” You pause for a moment before going on

“While it is good to have common ground, but not because of which should you confine yourself to what others view. Anyways, I could never find myself getting bored of this.”

A heartfelt laugh erupts besides you, rich in the sincerity that catches you off guard. You turn your head and something ridiculous passes your mind in that moment.

 It feels as if the young man before you was a child whose smile is just as carefree as he is

The thought doesn’t stay in your mind for long as the outline of your destination begins to appear, prompting the end of your time together. This time, you don’t even bother to hide the disappointment lying behind your voice.

“ Oh… it seems like we’re here. Well, I hope that you enjoy your visit here. It was nice talking to you.”

The man extends his hand to you before speaking up

“While I am here with the intention to visit this exhibition alone, it appears that I might not completely have a grasp around here. So, would my current tour guide be interested in accompanying me for a while longer?”

There is a nagging feeling at the back of your mind. You should be more careful but you don’t care. The offer stands as tempting as that of a siren calling out for any sailors unfortunate enough to cross and for once, you want to feel what it like to have your head submerged in water, to reach out for more while you drown in the sweet voice of the monstrous being. 

You reach out, placing your hand in his. His hand is calloused, a contrast to his immaculate face. He gives your hand a few tender squeezes, your hand fits perfectly in his.

“Well, if you are willing to hear a whole ramble on paintings, then that is. But before that, can you tell me your name? It would be weird to not know your name, considering all the time we spent together.” 

The name spilled out from his name rings like a bell in your head. But whether it is for a blessing or a bad omen remains a mystery to you.

“Chrollo-”

“Chrollo Lucilfer”

.

.

Chrollo has never been one for closer connections, maybe the closest he has ever been to anyone was when he was younger, when the hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow were still beating in his chest. But even the foolest would know that innocence equals vulnerability in Meteor City, a deadly one at least. What started at a normal interaction- where you help him and he will be on his merry way- quickly spiraled into something more. Even Shizuku noticed his shift in demeanor. It’s quite reasonable when it’s not a common occurance to see the head of the infamous Phantom Troupe- a ruthless criminal who is nothing but a nightmare, the devil’s incarnate in the tales of even the cruelest criminals, to be head over heels towards a normal civilian. He has traveled far and wide and yet, he rarely lingers on for long. Nonetheless, the mere thought of someone other than him might come across you, soaking in the warmth and vibrancy you have to offer like a sponge irks him greatly. The possessive nature of a thief runs deep in his blood. A credo through which he has devotedly followed, ingrained on every single molecule that forms his very essence. If he wants something then he steals it. Anything that falls under his possessions are meant to be admired from a distance not to be leered at, and not he himself could make an exception for you. While Chrollo is no halfwitted to not realize that letting you as you be there would always be someone, far better than him, to come in and swoop you up your feet when he has to part for one of his ‘ business trip’ , he is not cruel enough to strip away your freedom, at least not for now. He would like for you to remain your individuality for a while longer and captivity could do so much to one’s mental state. While it is just an inevitable bump of your relationship, it is not one that could be easily smoothed over with kisses and comforts. 

Chrollo is not a sentimental person, but he would go as far as to say he has become quite fond of the gesture where couples would wear matching items. It gives a profound message that you are off limits, lest anyone who are dense enough, well, they could try. His gestures are subtle, but not obscure, a keen eye will be able to spot one or two, which usually under the form of the choker wrapping around your neck or the form-fitting black dress that seems to suit his taste more than yours. He wonders how much he can imprint on you, how much he can steal before you notice or would you ever be aware of his tendency at all. Give him an inch and he would take a mile, once you give your heart to him, you could never expect to receive it back without giving up a few parts of you to him. 

 Throughout his journey, Chrollo has his fair share of experiences with others, through which he has learned how to gouge out the worst in people. Humans are just a combination of different components linked together and each requiring a unique blueprint. Treading the water carefully, using the right combination of words and as though every part is laid bare before him. While Chrollo uses this ability to see the worst in order, you, on the other hand, use it to see the best, to put back the mangle parts of the said people he always inclined to break. Despite your timid nature, you seem to hold more than you view, for better or worse. In a way, he would go as far to say you and him are so alike in many ways, and yet, so acutely different at the same time.

Nostalgic is an unfamiliar term as well as a foreign experience to him. What’s there to long for when there is already nothing to begin with? And normalcy is impossible for him, with the fall of his friends, the blood on his hand; with everything that he has gone through, Chrollo knows there will never be a day when he is able to rest. Domesticity is a privilege you made possible for him with what you have got. And for that, it will be your downfall. His past experiences have taught him to cling as tightly as possible to what dear to him. So even if you end up with a few scratches and bruises, if his hand ends up bloody in the process, nothing won’t be resolved with consolations, which will serve as your comfort and your eternal sentence. 

So, even if the path he has chosen is one leading straight to hell then so be it. He will gladly drag you down with him, even if it means the gate to your eden will be shut forever.

[cherrysha]

Craving

Pairing: Vampire!Phinks x Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be short but it kinda got out of hand...also wanna thank True Blood for the whole 'vampire blood as an aphrodisiac' thing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: Blood, Death, Allusions to Sex, (Phinks could be seen as yandere in this piece)

Hunger. Its the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes. All consuming, bubbling and burning away at his stomach to the point he feels sick. It’d only been a few days since Phinks ate, although the meal itself was more of a snack. He hadn't had the luxury of gorging himself, seeing as he was on the road and there were very few people passing by at that hour in the night.

He had resigned himself to emptying the veins of someone in a nearby village; although they were poor and Phink’s meal reflected that. Instead of the nutrient dense blood he was accustomed to, this man’s had the viscosity of water and left Phinks barely satiated.

At the moment, he wanted to roll over and satisfy his empty stomach with you. It was the easiest option, and he knew your blood to be of high quality; ensured it even, but the last time he fed from you, without slaking his overwhelming emptiness on someone else first, was all too fresh in his mind. Your hollowed eyes and exhausted body had shaken him to his core. Even now he can see your gaunt face flicker through his mind in warning.

Slowly, Phinks rose from the bed, whisper quiet as all of his kind were, before leaving your little cottage just as quietly.

The walk into the city would’ve taken a normal man hours. For Phinks it was barely long enough to reorient himself. The moon shone brightly on the weathered path, casting shadow in the ditches that wagon wheels had left in the dried earth. It had to be close to midnight, although the passage of time seemed torturously fast to him, he’d gotten acquainted with telling it through the cycles of the moon. Phinks had one more week with you before he had to report back to the troupe. He loathed leaving you, the easiest solution being to take you with him, but the idea of any other of his kind looking upon you, drinking from you, was abhorrent to him. No, bringing you with him opened up the possibility that he’d be forced to share; An idea he wasn’t keen on.

The routine of finding his first meal was easy enough. The streets were packed on warm summer nights such as this. People eager to partake in festivities that hadn’t enticed him for nearly a century. There were brothels, bars, and other unscrupulous places to choose from; but Phinks preferred to choose from the nearly empty buildings in the city. 

A rich apartment complex had been built in the heart of town, over the sea of shantytowns that had, at one point, choked off the streets. Now, all that stood were regal, gilded buildings. The residents weren’t his target, no, they’d draw too much suspicion. He craved a filling meal and knew the guards would be all too easy. They were paid enough to be loyal, and that in turn meant they were fed well. He’d just have to set the scene.

Phinks enters the bar a little ways down the street from his targets as he does all things; with an air of smug arrogance that he’s been unable to shake since before he was undead. He fits in with the crowd, so much so that he’s not even questioned as he asks for an entire bottle of whiskey. As long as he’s got the coin to spare it doesn’t seem that the bartender cares. All to Phinks’ benefit. He empties half the bottle on the cobbled streets before returning to his hunt. He’d only need about half of it anyway, and knew better than to drink the swill himself. 

No, the last time he’d tried drinking alcohol he’d vomited so much that Shalnark still mocked him for it. He hadn’t been a heavy drinker before turning, but he’d wanted a touch of normalcy. Food and drink tasted like ash in his throat, yet sweets and alcohol were the worst offenders. The memory makes Phinks grimace, quickening his steps as he heads down the road.

It takes mere moments before two guards are cornered in a dimly lit alley and Phinks snaps both of their necks. He didn’t want to cause any injuries that would spill his dinner onto the dirty cobblestone. He was too smart for that. Instead, he drank his fill before snatching one of their pistols. He aimed, pointing at one guard’s chest and the other’s head before firing. The whiskey was easily dumped into their open mouths and he used the rest to douse them. The bottle clinked against the ground as he admired his work. A late night brawl between the two would draw less attention than finding them dead with their veins sucked dry. The last thing he wanted was a monster hunter on his trail. Phinks quickly emptied their pockets before leaving. You could use the money. Buy yourself something good to eat that, he too, could enjoy.

By the time the moon hung bright in the sky, he’d drank enough to calm his stomach, although his mind was still racing. With his new meal came euphoria, the feeling accompanying the quenching of his hunger. It was during this time that his thoughts inevitably returned back to you. 

He knew running full speed back to you was a waste of energy, but he did so anyway. The night was too perfect, the sky too peaceful to want to be anywhere but by your side. 

He judged by the moon that he must make it back in record time. Maybe a quarter past one if he had to guess. It’d be around this time that you’d start to fidget in your sleep, maybe even wake yourself up in preparation to fulfill his needs. You did so every night, and although he spurned you by ignoring your requests to feed, tonight he’d indulge. 

—

“It’s time.” Phinks calls to you, his curt tone belying a hint of annoyance that he didn’t truly feel. Unbeknownst to you he’d spent far too long just taking in your peaceful form, intent on studying the rise and fall of your chest that felt completely foreign to him at his age. Was there a time when he breathed like that? Out of sheer necessity instead of just having the instinctual urge from time to time? Phinks had copied your movements, breathing in sync with you as you dozed under the clear sky. He found that he enjoyed it, if not just for his senses being assaulted by your smell. He’d even leaned in closer to the juncture of your neck, had breathed in deeply and relished in the scent of blood pulsing just beneath your skin. The smell was exquisite, but what made his mouth water was how he was engulfed in a scent that was undeniably you.

You stir, groaning as you try to sit up, to gather yourself and answer his call. You knew him well enough now that ignoring him and continuing to sleep was not the best idea. Slowly, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before obediently waiting.

“We’re going outside.”

“Why?”

“So many fucking questions. Can’t you just do as you’re told for once?” His answer was sharp, as it always was, but lucky for him you’d just nodded. Gathering yourself before standing.

The night air was crisp, yet still comfortable. You’d even brought a blanket to shield yourself from the dew on the grass. Phinks grimaced at the thing. In truth, he was angered that he hadn’t thought of it, but yet he found the thin fabric to be an annoyance.

He’d made you come outside multiple times, enjoyed the way the moonlight danced along your skin, but to you, he’d always said feeding under the moon was less claustrophobic when he deigned to answer.

You sit, legs folded underneath you as you angle yourself to peer up at Phinks. He, in all restraint, moves slowly to sit in front of you, legs wide and inviting as he reaches for something at his belt.

The knife glints in the light, sharp and dangerous, and you felt your stomach roiling.

“We, we don’t have to do that tonight, Phinks.” 

“But don’t I?” He growled, “You always cry if I don’t” there was a stunning truth to his words, a truth that had you nodding along in acquiescence as he pressed the blade to his open palm.

The sharp pinch was nothing to him; a slight irritant in an otherwise perfect night. An annoyance he was willing to bear for your comfort, although he’d never admit to it.

With no words spoken, you kneeled on the ground before him, letting the warmth of his blood slip past your lips and down your throat with moan. It tasted good, fresh. The tang of it reminding you of ripe fruit, of summer and sweetness that belied the stoic expression of the man in front of you. Phinks resisted the moan that was building in his chest at the sensation of your full lips wrapped around him, drinking him in so greedily it caused hunger to stir in his stomach once more. Your desire was his own, magnified and heightened by the blood slipping down your jaw and onto your neck, pooling on the white fabric of your nightgown. Phinks smiles at the sight of you tainted by him. As you should be.

“So fuckin’ messy.” He tuts, his free hand wrapping around your jaw as he pulls you into his lap. It’s quick, as all of his movements are, but he slows down as he licks a stripe up your neck, cleaning you with his tongue before covering your mouth with his own.

It doesn’t take long before he’s prying you away from him, ignoring the whimpers that echo through the cool night air. You land on your back, legs immediately splaying open in invitation. Phinks takes a moment to consider you, soft hair and even softer eyes as you stare at him pleadingly. So well trained. He doesn’t have to cajole you to open up, to accept what he’s offering you, what he’s taking. In part, he knows it to be the effect of his blood, but on nights like this it was easy to fool himself into thinking the searing affection he had for you was reciprocal in nature. 

Phinks kisses his way up, following the veins marking the path to his next meal, his lips press behind your leg before stopping at the apex of your thighs. He finds that he quite likes breathing, likes the smell of you in his lungs, just as he likes the taste of you in his mouth. He remembers the first time he’d done this. Taken from your pliant body by force. No, his blood wasn’t necessary anymore but it made these shared moments all the more sweet. When he bites down its with enough force to make your legs shut on instinct, to rip a whimper from your lips. Phinks knows its not painful in your current state, can see the proof of your arousal glistening in the moonlight. 

He indulges. Lets his mind wander on thoughts of you as he drinks you deep. Hopes he can engorge himself on the very essence of you. He craves it, an itch in the back of his mind that won’t go away; to consume, to be consumed, until neither you nor him can be separated. He fills his lungs with your scent, ears attuned to the soft whimper of your voice, mouth latched onto your femoral artery and he thinks that this could be enough. 

The air around you shivers with the whine that leaves your mouth once he finishes. Over the past year you’d learned to find pleasure in the pain, learned to crave the feeling even. His mouth leaving your bloodied skin was a denial of that pleasure, the hollow ache in your chest incomparable to the mark he’d left on your skin. 

Again, Phinks reprimands you for being so greedy, for wanting even when he was willing to give. But right now his prize was staring back at him; lust blown pupils trained on his every move as he slinked his way back up your body.

He tastes himself on your tongue. To him, its a bitter tang compared to the sweetness of your blood, but he enjoys it all the same. Enjoys swallowing your moans, sounds made solely for his ears and his alone. He wonders in times like this if you ever regret letting him through the threshold of your tiny home. Allowing him entry when you were too clueless to know you’d dragged home a half dead, and malnourished, vampire.

He smirks at the memory of it. Of your fear, your helplessness as he pinned you down and nearly drank you dry. The only reason he’d stopped was the severity of his injuries. At the time, he had planned to use you as one does a cow for milk. Letting you rest until you’d regained enough blood to nurse him back to health. He’d hadn’t fallen asleep more than twenty minutes before a stake was driven through his chest, high enough that it wasn’t lethal, but deep enough to betray your courage, and he’d fallen for you just as easily as the stake had been pulled out.

Now you were a supplicant at his altar, open and inviting as the pink stain of your feast on his blood betrayed you. As your actions betrayed you. You were his, in every way that mattered, your spirit was intertwined with his own.

“Please Phinks. I need you.” Your pupils are dilated, breath heaving as you beg for him. For all of him.

His tone is dry, an honest smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replies, “Of course you do.”

[rotten-pomegranates-fics]

hi! can i request reader escaping chrollo’s hold because she’s pregnant only for him to find her when the baby is a couple months old? how would they live their life out after that thank you! 💝

Indeed

I just assumed the making of the baby was not by readers choice so extra warning for rape and also this is dark content

Warnings: mentions of potential abortion(very subtle), mentions of forced pregnancy, child endangerment, yandere

Not lying this is kinda ass I didn’t really have ideas for this one

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

After one of your more hellish nights with Chrollo he had brought you your favourite foods a couple weeks later as if it would make up for forcing himself on you and to yours and his surprise you gagged

Him and you both just brush it off at first but then you start to get sick in the morning and he brings home a pregnancy test for you to take and your absolutely horrified when it’s positive

You knew you had to get out because he would just use the baby to threaten you, that he wouldn’t actually care for it at all

When you ran away you didn’t have anything until you found a small shack in the middle of nowhere that you got to fix up

You gave birth to a sweet baby girl all on your own in that same shack, and it was the most painful thing you did

You hoped things would stay like this forever, growing your own fruits and vegetables in your garden

Waking up hearing the squirrels playing in the trees, the quietness of the night without the hostel and bustle of the city

One night you had just put the baby down and noticed the crickets stoped chirping

That was weird but it was probably just a bear that made them quiet like that

When you woke up the next morning and went to get your darling girl she was gone

You where panicking when you ran out of the house only to hit a hard chest

You recognized his shoes before you even looked up

No, no, no, no, no, this couldn’t happen, he found you, your biggest tormentor found you

He grabs you rougher then he ever has before

When he was pulling you out of the woods and to a car you seen your little girl sitting in a crapy car seat, at least she was safe

You seen some troupe members waiting, luckily it was Pakunoda sitting with your little sweetheart, you knew she was a bad person but she was nice and gentle on the outside

The went to different cars when you and chrollo emerged from the growth

He doesn’t talk the whole way going back to the city and to an old but nice house

Once inside with you and the baby he explains how things are gonna be, how your to keep quiet and raise the baby as you where doing before just this time without freedom

You and the baby will both have personal doctors that are both women

And your going on birth control

As for life it is as it was before, frustrating and hard when it came to Chrollo

He holds your privilege of seeing you baby over your head at every change that came along

When the child is old enough to stand up against him he’s probably gonna sell her into slavery whether you’ve been good or not

He might threaten her with physical harm if you start acting out again

He’s one of the worst people to have a baby with honestly

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

[vulpisnocturna]

Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter III - Recalcitrance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Warnings: controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, captivity, non-con touching, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation

Word count: 5k

Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours stuck with Chrollo Lucilfer. Fourteen days in which you had done nothing but scream at him and hit him in vain. He just looked at you with that placid smile, asking you if you were done with your “tantrum”. You had stopped fearing for your life, because it was clear that whatever you did, he had a strict policy against physically harming you. Restraining you, psychoanalysing you, trapping you in his arms and chipping away at your sanity, however, were all fair game.

Every night, he would carry you to bed and trap you against his body, and you would flail your limbs like a caged animal, hitting him again and again, which hurt like hell every time. Your legs and arms sometimes had bruises from hitting Chrollo. After a while, you couldn’t stand the pain anymore, and you exhausted yourself from trying so hard, which would always result in you falling asleep despite promising yourself that this time, this time you’d stay awake. And then, you would wake up in the morning with his arm around your waist and his head against yours.

Chrollo had bought you more clothes. If they could be called such. He had a clear predilection for thigh highs, which he claimed would keep you warm in the late October chill. That was hardly the case, since he had bought you a myriad of skirts that barely even covered your ass, and the blouses he chose always seemed to have some sort of defect. Such as a jumper that was backless, a top that exposed your cleavage too much, one that didn’t cover your stomach. Dresses were also a staple. Classier than the other options, they were now what you chose when you were free to make a decision. They were very feminine, ranging from ones that accentuated your waist to ones that exposed your legs or had a cowl neckline that would show your boobs if you dared to bend over.

But the worst was the underwear. He did not see it, so why was he so hellbent on making you wear the most daring lingerie known to humankind? Lace had replaced cotton almost completely, in the form of black bralettes that barely even supported your breasts and uncomfortable panties that showed off your ass.

That day, Chrollo had decided to grace you with a day of peace, saying he was going to meet with the Phantom Troupe for another heist. The Spider, as he also called them, was his friend group. And lo and behold, they were all murderous thieves. Chrollo had had no problem telling you he was a world-class thief when he had first come back with a mountain of antique books for the both of you. From Austen to Shakespeare to Nietzsche, he had stolen all of them, and handed you the most gorgeous edition of Pride and Prejudice you had ever seen in your life, telling you he had pocketed it just for you because upon stalking you -making your acquaintance, as he referred to it, he had discovered you loved it.

And then, as though that wasn’t enough, he had insisted you have conversations about the books you were reading. He seemed to love reading as much as you did, which only irked you. He liked sitting down on the sofa in front of the fireplace and read, inviting you to sit on his lap –which you reacted to with the same zeal of someone who had been offered arsenic, sitting on an armchair as far away from him as possible, but still close to the fireplace, because your attire made it so that you were cold most of the time. Which you had come to realise was also a ploy for you to seek out Chrollo’s body heat. The fact of the matter was that Chrollo was disgustingly cunning. As delusional as he was, he was a strategist at heart, and conniving as they came.

You wouldn’t be able to get through a chapter that he would ask you this or that, and did you think Hamlet struggled with inaction because by exacting revenge he would irrevocably be cloaking himself in his uncle’s corrupt morality; and did you agree that Odysseus’ decision to rejoin his family instead of marrying Nausicaa was the ultimate confirmation he had shunned his hubris and embraced mortal humility? And what was your opinion on Dante’s arrogance in casting himself as the judge of sin in placing individuals in hell, purgatory, or heaven, therefore setting himself up to be God?

Pretentious as he was, Chrollo read all kinds of books. From classics to philosophy to shōnen manga to sci-fi, from romance, fantasy, noir, and psychological thriller all the way to mystery. He was particularly grating when he read romance, because he seemed to infer that whatever he read could be applied to you. From romantic gestures such as buying you flowers to saccharine, obscure love letters you found in the books you were reading, all the way to attempts at seduction that made your stomach tighten in a noose. Not only because he was so wretchedly attractive and sounded enticing too, but also because you despised him and feared he would get more and more brazen with his physical touches.

He had already started to wrap his arms around you, kiss your cheeks, your forehead, the top of your head. Sometimes, he sat next to you on the sofa and trapped you next to him, forcing you to “cuddle” with him.

Regardless of that, that day was a blessing for you in a whirlwind of rage, fear, anxiety and vigilance: you took a long, hot shower, not worrying he might burst in if he thought you were taking too long and using the bathroom to “avoid” him, you made breakfast and actually slumped on the sofa with a book without having to keep an eye on what he was doing at all times, you took a nap by yourself and checked the house over and over again for exits and weapons.

You found nothing, and some drawers you couldn’t open, which you had come to deduce was because of his kleptomaniacal superpower- or Nen, as he called it. No knives, no scissors, no hammers or poisons or daggers. It was a baby-proof house. You were in a very tall building, which meant you couldn’t break the windows and jump. The front door was locked, and you did not have enough strength to kick it down, nor anything to break it apart. Your phone was nowhere to be found; his had a weird system of recognition that wouldn’t let you in. He had no laptop that you could find either.

By the time you had finished exploring, you were exhausted once again, and gave up for that day, making yourself a cup of tea and sitting down with another book. It had now become your coping mechanism, a form of escapism from the reality of your life. You thought of your friends and family, and whether they had declared you missing and started an investigation. But you knew it would be fruitless, because Chrollo Lucilfer was too clever, and too familiar with being a criminal. He had told you that you would move country in about two weeks, after he was done collecting things he liked with his horrid friends, and then, it would all be useless, unless you could do something at the airport. Ask for help.

His threat of killing people that might aid you was fresh in your mind, but what were you supposed to do? Even he wouldn’t kill an entire airport full of people, right? Even if he was strong, and fast, and had his Nen, what could he do against all the airport security?

Either way, you would find a way. You couldn’t let this be the end; you couldn’t stand his shit-eating smirk, his self-satisfaction whenever you would talk to him, breaking your silence treatment streak because you couldn’t stand it when he started his pretentious monologues.

Whenever he asked you a question about a book, you had to make a decision: did you want to indulge him and answer the question, or did you want to pursue your silent treatment and endure a monologue of him giving you his opinion, his explanation, like you had no answer and had to be lectured on something?

Somehow, he always knew what buttons to press. He would cut deep into your pride and intellect, pretending your efforts to ignore him meant you did not possess enough insight to aid him in his dilemmas and required him to explain. He made you choose to answer because he knew the alternative irked you more. And then, he would psychoanalyse your answer, musing over your mind as though he were a neurosurgeon dissecting a brain, happily humming to himself as he sought to read you instead of minding his own business.

He always buttered you up with compliments on your intellect and insight after receiving your reluctant viewpoint of his dilemmas, as though you were Pavlov’s dog, who would one day come to him, salivating, eagerly offering your own opinions to receive the meagre reward of his unsolicited praise.

Unless he disagreed, and then, he would rebut your point, cajoling you into a debate that seemed to just delight him to no end.

You let out a deep sigh, gnashing your teeth. Even when he wasn’t there, you could not stop him from invading your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on your book whether you were alone or in his presence, forced to listen to self-aggrandising input.

‘It pleases me to see you so at ease, darling’

You let out a yelp, scrambling to sit up and growing rigid as you eyed him. And just like that, your short-lived pretence of peace came to an end.

Chrollo was sitting on the sofa armrest, wearing that hideous purple cloak that made him look like a cartoonish cleric mixed with an elderly woman wrapped in ermine fur, his hair slicked back like he was preparing to audition for The Godfather and his eternal self-satisfied smirk plastered on his stupidly attractive face.

‘I missed you’ he breathed, walking over to you, ridding himself of his coat in favour of an abstractly striped purple shirt and leather trousers with one belt too many. You got up, glowering at him as you put the oaken coffee table between your bodies like a child might raise a cardboard shield against a knight brandishing a broadsword.

‘I didn’t’ you quipped, because as soon as you had learnt that Chrollo was unaffected by verbal poison, you had poured it in your every sentence, dousing your words with it.

‘Don’t be so callous with me, sweetheart. I brought you gifts’ he chuckled, his long legs closing the gap between you before you could hope to dash away. He closed in on you, and you squirmed away, turning your head as he leaned over your face, but he only changed trajectory and treacherously kissed your jaw instead of your cheek, sending an infuriating shiver down your spine.

‘The possessions of others are hardly gifts’ you barked, and Chrollo tilted his head, letting you place some distance between you.

‘In truth, these cannot be called the possessions of others. I appreciate your steadfast morals, however, these were actually stolen from a long-dead tribe by the government, who sought to make money from it. Stealing them would actually be righteous of me, would it not?’ he mused, smiling lightly as he walked over to the door, where he had left a sizeable crate.

‘Stealing is stealing, and it’s wrong’ you hissed, tired of his foolish arguments on semantics.

‘Spoken like a true preacher, darling. I would love to hear your sermons. Though not nearly as much as I would enjoy seeing you in these’ he said, carrying the crater over to the wooden coffee table and opening it. Your eyes nearly bulged out, setting on the glittering ruby earrings that looked like droplets of blood in the sunlight, on silvery rings with emeralds gemstones shining on the band, on sapphire pendants and bracelets of solid gold.

‘Almost as beautiful as you are, my love’ he said in a mellifluous tone, and you turned your head, almost like a monk slighting temptation, in an analogy you often heard from him as he compared your morals to that of a puritanical priest. Which was ludicrous, considering he was the one who seemed to have an obsession with religious imagery and had several crosses on his outfits.

‘I don’t want anything to do with your kleptomaniacal gifts’ you snapped, and Chrollo laughed lightly, his greedy fingers curling on your waist, pulling you against him even as you fought against him like a cat being bathed.

He stroked your back possessively, feeling the soft mauve chiffon under his hands.

‘This dress is one of your favourites, is it not, darling? You look ravishing in it. Did you know I stole this from a fashion auction? When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect on you. You see now?’ he murmured, pressing his lips on your temple.

‘I don’t have a choice’ you hissed, pushing at his chest, which was like trying to move a tank with your bare hands.

‘Of course you do. You could always not wear anything’ he chimed in, lifting you up and sitting you on his lap, caging you with his arms.

‘I’d rather die’ you bit back, and he held you still, looking at you with those big grey eyes of his, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek.

‘I would never let that happen, darling’ he whispered, his breath, reminiscent of mint, fanning your jaw.

‘Let me go’ you whined, starting to panic. What was he going to do? You couldn’t move anything but your head in that position.

‘Shh. Be good for me’ he practically purred, his gaze trailing to your lips, his face inching closer. You squirmed, turning your head, but one of his hands left your wrists to tip your chin towards him again.

He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. You froze, halting your useless struggle, momentarily entranced by how soft and reverential his lips were against yours. He let out a soft moan, tilting his head and keeping yours in place by your nape, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you still.

He was gentle and sensual as he kissed you, and you could not deny the shiver that ran down your spine as his tongue traced your lower lip. The temptation of parting your lips and kissing him back was furiously battling the reminder that this was Chrollo that was kissing you, the repulsive man who had kidnapped you, a murderer-

He sank his teeth in your bottom lip and pulled lightly on your hair, and you could not contain a small gasp that gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. You were lost in the feeling of it, unable to do anything but feel the way he pressed you against him, his fingers curling on your thigh, his hand fisting your hair to grant him better access.

The sensation of pleasure travelling down your body and pooling in your lower stomach should have pulled you in a deeper trance, but it snapped you out of it. Before you could consider the consequences of your actions, your palm had already collided with his cheek with a resounding slap.

He pulled back, and you stared at him, wide-eyed and panting, rage making your cheeks flush with blood. The side of his face was starting to take a shade of pale pink, and you scrambled to your feet, wrenching yourself from him.

His reddened lips curled into a smirk, and he stared at you, getting up. Your eyes briefly caught sight of a bulge in his leather trousers, and you stepped back, disgusted. How could you have let him do that? Why had a small part of you liked it? What the hell was wrong with you?

‘Are you scared, darling? It’s not my reaction to your slap that frightens you, is it? No, it’s the fact that you liked it’ he drawled, his tongue licking his bottom lip. You grimaced, rage surging through you, and you wanted to hit him, wanted to smother him with a pillow and wipe that fucking smirk from his face, and the taste of his lips was in your mouth-

You bolted to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom, furiously brushing your teeth, your tongue, your lips until your gums started to bleed, your eyes brimming with bitter tears as you slid against the door, cradling your head, sniffling and sobbing into your knees.

Minutes passed, and at some point, as you exhausted all your tears, you knew you had to get out, or you would lose your lock privileges. You wiped your tear-stained cheeks, sniffling your blocked nose and turning the lock, wordlessly slipping out of the bathroom, finding him lounging on the sofa in the bedroom, wearing a simple white T-shirt and comfortable black trousers, a book in his hands.

He was stifling. He was everywhere, always in your space, and now, he had kissed you. You didn’t know why, but you had foolishly believed he wouldn’t cross that line. You’d been an idiot.

‘Leave me alone’ you said gruffly, walking out of the bedroom.

But he followed you. You didn’t know why you kept trying to establish boundaries. He clearly had no regard for them.

‘I was patient enough, sweetheart. It’s been two weeks; it’s only natural that I would want to kiss you. And I want you to know that it will happen often from now on. That’s because your pretty lips are beguiling, my love. Better than I dreamt they would be. But don’t fear. You don’t have to stubbornly pretend you find kissing me distasteful. I could tell, darling... though you tried to hide it so fervently’ he said, tone disgustingly self-satisfied as he followed you into the kitchen. You were trembling with rage now, seeing red as you stared at him, your jaw so tight it ached.

‘Would it fucking kill you to leave me alone for five minutes?!’ you screamed, your eyes burning with fury. Chrollo was unperturbed.

‘Because why would you be so enraged at me, if not because you cannot stand your own desires? It must be so difficult to abide by your morals, darling’ he said casually, smirking at you.

‘I hate you! I hate your guts’ you snarled, slamming open every cupboard that was unlocked, finally finding a stash of alcohol. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, storming past him towards the sofa, pouring yourself a full glass and gulping a heavy sip of it, wiping your chin and hoping the burning in your throat would make the taste of him and the phantom feel of his tongue disappear from your mouth.

‘You strike me as a lightweight, darling. That is a sizeable glass of whiskey that you poured yourself. Besides, this one is meant to be sipped. You’re doing a disservice to its quality’ he said, appearing in front of you with a glass and pouring himself three fingers of amber liquid.

‘I hope it cost you twenty thousand Jenny’ you hissed, taking another gulp, grimacing at the burning in your throat.

‘Actually, I believe this one was around a hundred thousand Jenny’ he said casually, sitting in the armchair in front of you and crossing his legs. You looked at him, disbelieving for a second, before you decided to ignore him. Who cared if he spent half your monthly salary on a bottle of whiskey. For all you knew, he’d stolen that one as well.

‘You’re not a habit drinker, are you, darling? There was hardly any alcohol in your old house’  he said, and you turned on the TV, covering yourself with a cushion and continuing to drink as you started watching the show that was on, though your attention was not truly on it.

In the meantime, Chrollo had decided he wasn’t close enough to you for his liking, so he plopped down next to you, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. You tried to squirm away, but as usual, it had no effect. So you merely continued to gulp down glasses of whiskey, hoping that at some point, you would pass out and you wouldn’t have to deal with him. Though you feared what he’d do to you if you lost your rational abilities.

He tapped away at his phone, his fingers drawing grating circles on your upper arm.

‘There, that’s enough for now, darling. Any more and you’ll throw up’ he said, prying the glass from your cold fingers and setting it down.

You ignored him again, though it was hard when he was glued to your body and you were cold in that stupid chiffon dress. The heat that radiated from his body was tempting, but you would rather die of hypothermia than cuddle up to him.

You tried to focus on the show, but you were starting to feel a little lightheaded and less perceptive of your body. Less perceptive of how close that sneaky bastard had gotten you to him, taking advantage of the fact that you were unlikely to even notice.

Shortly after, maybe a few scenes that you hardly remembered the dialogue of, the doorbell rang. Your head twisted to it. Police. The police had found you? Nobody ever rang the bell.

‘Relax, darling. I ordered us some food. I’ll be back in a minute’ he said, getting up and putting on his shoes, closing the door behind him. You gingerly stood up, your head swaying lightly, before you made your way to the door, pulling on the handle. Locked. No, not locked. Magically- Nen locked. You chewed on your bottom lip, going back to the sofa. Useless. He was too cautious.

He returned not even a minute after, holding a bag he set on the coffee table, taking out a few plastic containers. You could see rice and yakitori, along with another container with dumplings. Your stomach grumbled at the sight.

‘Have your pick, darling. Anything you please’ he said, and you picked up the container with the dumplings, opening it and breaking apart the chopsticks, ignoring him and going back to the TV show. There was definitely a character called Frank. Or was it Vincent? In any case, you were sure the plot was about a climate apocalypse. That much was clear from the clothes they were wearing.

You wouldn’t compliment Chrollo on his food choices, but it was really good. And you had been very hungry.

And you were also quite drunk now.

Like a blessing from the Heavens, Chrollo left you to eat in peace as he had some yakitori, watching the show with mild interest.

Once you were finished, you took another gulp of whiskey, and Chrollo looked at you, an amused smirk on his face.

‘What are you looking at?’ you barked, glaring at him. His smirk only got more pronounced.

‘Nothing. You are so cute when you’re drunk, darling’ he said, drawing you close to him. Your head was spinning too much to fight back.

‘I’m not drunk’ you said, making your voice sound steady as you got up. Except you must have done so too quickly, because the whole room spun, and when you fell, you magically found yourself draped on his lap, his arm safely wrapped around your torso.

‘How sweet you are, my love. You can’t even stand up by yourself. Let me help you’ he said, possessively pulling you against him, stroking your hair, looking at you like one might look at an interesting art piece.

‘Shut up, Chrollo. Let me go, or I will-‘ you trailed off as his thumb traced your bottom lip, a wolfish grin on his face.

‘What will you do, sweetheart?’ he mused, dipping his head to kiss your throat, soft lips pressing lightly, tantalisingly, to the point where you let out a soft moan.

‘That’s it, darling. You like it, mh? I can make you feel so good, I promise’ he whispered, voice breathy and husky at the same time, teeth nipping at your clavicle, ‘you have no idea how tempting you are, darling. How much I want you’

Your breath faltered, your vision spinning as Chrollo’s hand cupped your ass, a soft sigh leaving his lips just before he started sucking at the base of your throat. You let out a whimper, clutching the fabric of his shirt, pressing your thighs together to quell the throbbing between your legs.

No, Chrollo was- but it felt so good, and you wanted- wanted him to stop? To continue?

You pushed him away with a weak shove, but he relented, smirking at you as you tried to catch your breath.

‘Don’t touch me’ you slurred, getting up, stumbling around on the plush white rug.

‘I had no intentions of doing more than give you a taste of what I can make you feel, my love. You surpassed my expectations.  You are so sensitive, darling. I look forward to continuing this in the future’ he said, and you looked at him, unsure how to answer, before you turned on your heels and stumbled through the corridor, eventually finding your way to the bedroom. You grabbed your shirt and shorts from under the pillow and locked the bathroom door, intending to go to sleep before him.

But when you came out of the bathroom, you saw him already standing in front of the bed, placing a glass of water on your nightstand.

‘What you doing’ you snapped at him, your eyes narrowing. Chrollo let out a soft laugh, straightening up and walking over to you.

‘You will probably have a hangover tomorrow. I am taking precautionary steps to ensure your wellbeing. Don’t worry, darling, I will stay home with you tomorrow, and take very good care of you’ he said, looking so damn pleased with himself. You glowered at him, walking over to the bed and dropping on it like dead weight. The ceiling was spinning wildly, and your body felt very heavy, like it was sinking in the mattress. Your eyelids already felt so heavy.

Chrollo’s arm pulled you in against him, and besides a dissatisfied groan, it was the first night you didn’t have the strength to thrash around and fight him off in vain.

‘Shh, close your eyes, darling. Sleep’ he whispered against your ear, kissing your shoulder. You tried to stay awake, but you soon found it was impossible to do so.

Chrollo smiled, sipping his coffee, his fingers flicking the page, his gaze turning to you. You looked so sweet, sleeping in, not a care in the world, your face peaceful, lips parted as you took slow, even breaths.

It was already late in the morning, but he did not want to wake you up. He was content to let you sleep in, especially when you were cuddled up to him, seeking out his warmth without knowing it. His fingers were playing with your hair, gently stroking it, revelling in the softness of it, and he thought you were such a heavy sleeper. Perhaps it was him who had spent a whole lifetime guarding himself against possible attacks, and seeing someone sleep so peacefully, not wake up at the slightest change in breathing, the movement of a shadow, the hissing of the wind was fascinating to him.

Despite your reservations about him and the fact that you claimed to despise him, you slept so soundly with him. Besides, he thought, uncovering your clavicle, where you were sporting a purple lovebite he’d left you with, you certainly seemed responsive enough to his kisses. It had been difficult to stop himself from pinning you down and hear more of those sweet little sounds you had made for him the night before, but he wanted you to want him desperately. His pleasure was derived from knowing that deep down, you wanted him to touch you, wanted to be his. Just like you had wanted him to suck and bite your bottom lip, even though you’d slapped him out of stubbornness.

But he was not perturbed. He knew you would come around, even though your bouts of anger and futile attempts at hitting him were starting to become aggravating. How could you not see you did not possess enough strength to injure him? Why were you so eager to hurt yourself by thrashing around like a feral cat and hissing at him?

Your life would be much easier if you just stopped denying his affection. After all, he did everything for you, and only wanted you to stop denying him at every turn.

Of course, he could not expect you to reciprocate his feelings so soon, because as a human being, you were likely to retain some resentment towards him because he had taken you with him. But he could not have left you; sooner or later, he would have to travel elsewhere. He had had to take you with him, especially considering how dangerous the world was for you.

And if you stopped being so enraged and resentful, he might even take you outside. He wanted to spoil you, take you to dinner, to see art galleries and libraries and beautiful nature sceneries. But if you couldn’t behave, how was he supposed to do that? You would have to stay home until you could be trusted with behaving in the outside world. After all, it would be inconvenient if you asked someone to aid you whilst you two were outside. He would have to host a bloodbath, and he did not think it would help your perception of him.

Your morals were so clear-cut, it was fascinating to him. You seemed to have such a clear idea of what was right and what was wrong, and that intrigued him. Was it your upbringing? Didn’t he have those because the place he had grown up in had been so cruel? Or was it his inherent nature? You seemed to think him a monster, but were monsters made or born as such?

Chrollo did not know, but he knew you were the key to discovering himself. With you, he could find out anything. He felt whole with you, his emotions were naturally present, he knew what they were and could name them, he did not feel that boundless vacuum inside his heart that seemed to swallow him whole. He could learn so much from you; one lifetime wouldn’t be enough. That was why he had vowed he would find you in every single one.   

Part IV

[aluraveil]

Yandere Chrollo Headcanons

Note : I finally write for Hunter x Hunter! Chrollo was the reason I started watching this anime and I'm addicted to the show <3

Out of all the Yanderes in the world of Hunter x Hunter, if you had Chrollo as your yandere.. then goodbye. You’re never seeing the light ever again because my mans is scary and powerful as shit.

Chrollo is by far the worst Yandere to have.

Chrollo is literally the leader of the Phantom Troupe, of which is infamous for being nothing but bandits who take whatever they want without caring about how many people they have killed in the process.

The Phantom Troupe is a group of cold blooded criminals who kill innocent people and steal. 

If you ever tried to escape, it’d be so easy for Chrollo to track you down. He might even ask the Phantom Troupe to help find your location.

The Phantom Troupe is a gang full of thugs who are talented in combat and other things. It would be so easy for them to track you down.

Who knows? The Phantom Troupe might even have a contest on who can find you first..

Chrollo encourages you to talk to the other Phantom Troupe members. Afterall, they’re his friends. But you took one good look at them and decided to keep your mouth shut.

Sometimes Shizuku might even try to start a conversation with you..

Shizuku honestly wasn’t that bad. She was really nice to you and you sometimes talk to her. Even Shalnark is really polite to everyone too.

Overall the Phantom Troupe isn’t that bad. Afterall they don’t treat you coldly. You always make sure to stay away from people like Hisoka. Something is just off about them..

Another thing that Chrollo loves to do with you is have you sit on his lap during meeting with the other Spiders.

Hisoka also stares at you weirdly and once during a meeting, you both made eye contact and he winked and grinned at you. That creeped the shit out of you..

You don’t sleep with restraints because for one thing, Chrollo knows that even if you try to escape; he’ll find you eventually. Also his tight grip on your waist as he cuddles with you doesn’t help either..

Chrollo’s embrace is super suffocating. You always feel like you can’t breathe around him.

In the end, having Chrollo as a Yandere sucks ass. That man is nothing but a criminal to you in your own eyes.

[animeyanderetalker]

In no particular order, which five characters from Hunter x Hunter do you believe have the highest probability of being yandere if they were to develop an attraction to someone?

Those are the ones I could think of spontaneously.

I feel like Kurapika would have a good possibility of turning possessive and very overprotective over the person he starts gaining feelings for. The massacre of his own clan has left him scarred and set on revenge so he would be much more careful and paranoid if he would fall in love with someone. He has made an enemy of the Phantom Troupe by killing Uvogin and Pakunoda and also using his Chains on Chrollo to make him unable to use his Nen abilities. He knows that the Phantom Troupe is ruthless and probably wouldn’t be afraid to use you against him and that thought is going to haunt him.

Hisoka just won’t let someone go the moment they catch his interest so god forbid if this menace actually gains genuine feelings for someone. As genuine as he can go at least. He literally won’t leave that person alone and worst is that there’s no way to get rid of him. Threats don’t work and he’s too smart to get caught by the police or he just kills them. Hisoka has no morals and his loyalty lies in what catches his interest. Rejections, insults, threats and tears don’t work on him either. Instead Hisoka is oddly invested in whatever emotion he can squeeze out of you and he’s going to be the asshole who makes you cry on purpose. He’s so persistent and is going to be so annoyingly clingy too so there goes any sense of privacy either. He is terrifying because he has no shame in killing people nor expressing his perverted desires to you.

Start playing freaking Hellfire from Hunchback of Notre Dame for Shaiapouf and his first stages of interest in that person. He’s part of the Royal Guard, he was born to serve the Chimera Ant King and no one else so him gaining an attraction to someone that isn’t his King defies genetics. That is going to be a sting for him, all the more if we’re going with a scenario where Meruem is dead and Shaiapouf already survived. His King was killed by a human, the species that was supposed to be beneath Meruem and his Royal Guards so for Pouf this would be salt in the fresh wound. It’s an utter humiliation and he plans multiple times to kill you only to be unable to do so. There is a paranoia within him because he has failed the one thing he was born for so in a way he’s projecting on his darling by initially forcing them to act like the royalty Pouf is supposed to serve before the genuine infatuation kicks in and he embraces it completely. His paranoia and trauma will never let him let go of his darling, he’s going to be so overbearing and controlling whilst playing their servant.

Pitou is a very similar story to Shaiapouf. Them gaining an attraction for someone goes against their natural instinct to protect the Chimera Ant King yet it’s still happening. Since Pitou is also partially a cat, there is going to be a lot of curiosity involved and much less hostility than with Pouf. Neferpitou’s mind tells them to seek out answers for those weird feelings that their darling awakes inside of them and no one can tell them to stop. Pitou is possessive over their darling and will guard them and the place they’re put in with literal teeth and claws. There is pain and trauma if we once again assume a world where Meruem and Komugi both died so for a while they view darling as a toy to forget those feelings until they realize that their emotions for them are actually sincere. That’s when darling really won’t be able to ever escape.

He has shown a fascination for the way humans work so imagine how obsessed he would be with the person he gains an interest in. It’s unexpected because the only people Chrollo has ever cared about are the members of his Phantom Troupe but that is what makes his darling so precious and special. He yearns to know every crevice of their soul to the point where he feels almost incomplete if he doesn’t as the mere feeling of not knowing becomes a black tear in his being. He’s smart, he is observing and at one point he knows your every habit and reaction yet he’s like a glass with no bottom as he keeps taking everything about you in to engrave it forever in his black soul. You are the rarest treasure the thief has ever found and he’s going to commit massacres to ensure that you never leave his side.

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Phantom Troupe with a s/o who gets friendly with other partners

Characters: Chrollo, Phinks, Nobunaga and Franklin

A/n: Ehhhh just a small thing. Brain fried from school and lack of proper sleep. Hope my HXH fixation stays strong for a while longer 😍 Also i think the writing is lowkey ugly but I think it's mostly the brain fog

Also wanted to do Uvogin but miss girl I really can't with ts rn... Btw I dont do Franklin I just like his character. ONE TIME THING OK 👌

Also in my ghosting era. Sorry moots I'm dying but bitch im alive but I'm dead 💔

Chrollo

Now what the hell do you think you're doing?

It's good to see that you're still capable of social interaction, but getting all buddy buddy with the other partners will make him extremely jealous.

His jealousy doesn't stem from his fear of them taking you away from him, it's purely because he thinks that HE should be the only one you spend your leisurely time with. Not some nobodies.

Chrollo is very straightforward and verbal in his expression of feelings. He will tell you to knock it off and stay near him for now on.

Maybe he will be more lenient when you talk to them from a distance.

Disobey and you will lose many privileges. It's not too often the troupe has meetings, so if there is a next time to prove yourself, (Assuming you've made up a lot for it and have obtained outside pleasures) you'd better either keep your head to the ground, or your eyes boring into his.

Eyes are the windows to the soul aren't they? Personally, Chrollo agrees with this sentiment. 

But if you're planning on escaping with the aid of that other partner, you better pray he takes some kind of psychological pity on you.

He WILL find out about it. Chrollo is a master manipulator and can read others out very well after some time.

Regarding that he has taken everything from you, he will know that you are keeping something from him.

It's not as if he didn't predict this, but it still dissapointed him.

Punishment is never tortuous, but it's direct and precise. Chrollo takes want he wants no matter how he gets it.

Sometimes you think of it as a blade hidden under his long sleeve. He closes in, saying things you wish not want to hear again, and strikes you in the most vital parts.

Phinks 

Literally does not care that much if you don't make a big deal out of it. Though, he does make sure you stay close and listens in to check you're not conspiring or anything. 

He will only get pissed if you seem really giddy after interacting with the other partner or if you keep looking around like an idiot for some kind of opportunity.

Somewhat playful about it. Phinks will tease you condescendingly, implying things you know you would be immensely punished for. 

Your terrified face and nervous defensive speech strokes his ego a lot. 

Yeah that's right, you're his. Only he works to make you that happy. Any other being trying to lure you into their untrustworthy hold will get their head spun around back and over. 

But if you're planning something against him, he will have no hesitation and will take you back home that instant.

Informs troupe members he encounters that he has personal business while dragging you out by your arm.

The boss is more understanding when it comes to partner business, so he approves of his actions.

Punishment is painful yet effective. The next time the Troupe meets up, you dare not to look at anyone else. Especially that other darling.

It seems like they were punished too.

Nobunaga

Why the hell are you ruining everything for yourself? 

He's a very moody and emotional person. Seeing you enjoy yourself with that other person will make him extremely envious and agitated.

If you're REALLY enjoying it then things will take a turn for the worst.

Nobunaga will walk up to the two of you and intimidate the other partner. The yandere of that partner will most likely not take kindly to that, and they will start to have a verbal dispute. 

Chrollo will have to silence the two and might even toss a coin to decide what to do about the outburst.

When you two get home, you will be heavily interrogated. If you don't declare your very existence and devotion to your "relationship", then off to the lions you go.

Nobunaga always makes punishment personal; Insulting you and putting words in your mouth. Never leaves you alone and makes it a point to let you know how much you hurt him, and how bad he is going to hurt you.

But if you are simply having small talk, then Nobunaga will pull you aside and tell the yandere to keep their partner away from his lover. 

The yandere will most likely agree or wave off to his demands, and keep what's theirs to themselves.

His grip is swift and harsh. You feel like a brick in calloused hands waiting for an open opportunity.

Nobunaga doesn't think before he acts in social situations. His feelings take over and his sword swerves up and around, aimed towards person contradicting his own view.

He is greedy, not selfish. 

Safe to say that you now don't open your mouth at meetings anymore unless you're told to…

Franklin

Eh as long as you're happy and not doing anything stupid.

He knows you need to talk to someone else other than himself. You are human after all.

Franklin will question you about your conversations. He secretly hopes you talked about him in a flattering light, but he knows that most likely was not a subject brought up.

Unless you want to get smart and start conspiring, you best not let him hear in on too much or find out.

Franklin is an observer and only acts when needed. His quiet and large stature is enough to intimidate most, so when he tells you he knows, confess and apologize as if you life depended on it.

He is a very patient, rational and calculating man, so he knows what you need when you need it.

It's better to stay docile rather than to mess up because you thought you could fool him. Did you think just because you found an easy way out, that you had even the slightest chance of keeping it a secret from him? Franklin of all people?

The man who is basically the troupe's second leader, the man who literally shoots nen bullets out of his hands, the man who could SNAP YOU IN HALF if he wanted to.

Punishment is not as bad as it would be if you actually did escape, but it still resulted in you being closed off to others much more than to him.

But other than that he doesn't mind you a few friends here and there. Just as long as you're loyal to him, he carries on without much issue.

Isn't the jealous type. More possessive.

[la-squadra1234]

Would you have idea for (yandere) HxH boys being a fake husband to a s/o with amnesia ? OvO

OML- OK because if the hxh characters actually did that I would be sitting there like wtf but you are literally so creative. This is such a good one and I can tell I’m going to like this one for sure!

The characters that I am going to be doing are the characters that I think would actually do some thing like that

Full credit to la-squadra1234

————————————————————————

Feitan-

OK this man would definitely do some thing like that let’s be real he is sadistic and he most definitely tortures people for fun and I mean literally torture them, carving out their eyes and shit he wouldn’t even hesitate to do some thing like this in the back of his mind he would be laughing his ass off and seeing how stupid they are (even though it’s not there s/o’s fault he will just blame it on them anyways for literally anything)

Phinks-

In the back of his mind, he knows that it is very sick and twisted, and that he shouldn’t be doing something like that and that’s worse than killing people at least in his books it is but he eventually just stops, giving two flying fucks, and totally forgets about it, and he just carries on with life as usual acting as if he is not doing what he is doing and acting like it’s normal😭

Chrollo-

He knows that it’s messed up and that thought will never leave his head but then again, he remembers who the hell he is and he thinks to himself of all of the bad things that he has done and that this is not even comparable at least in his books it’s not but of course, in hours it’s probably one of the worst things that he’s ever done he would honestly find enjoyable, and very funny

Shalnark-

He will feel a little bad for his actions, but eventually he will just try to get every single thought of that out of his head, and just move on and live his life 

Hisoka-

He would definitely brag about it to the phantom, troupe and especially illumi as if it’s funny, or a joking matter he honestly wouldn’t care, and he would have no regrets and he would show no remorse. Absolutely none which is honestly pretty scary, and he would definitely take advantage of his s/o in anyway possible and I mean anyway 

That is it for today everybody I hope everybody enjoyed. I really liked writing this one and I had to be creative as well so it was pretty fun to do

I am trying to change up my writing style a little bit so if you see me writing things that is out of the ordinary for me just now that I’m trying to change it up a little bit and make my writing look a little bit more alive lol

I will see everybody in the next Post bye now

[onionsoop]

yan!shalnark drabble

tw: yandere, exhibitionism, degradation, creampie, threats, noncon/dubcon, gn!reader but wearing of skirts mentioned

I've got devious thoughts about yan!shalnark and how he would let reader out of wherever he was keeping them just to be a pervert and indulge his exhibitionism kink. I fully believe he would send reader out into the busy streets, onto the packed rush hour trains and buses, into crowded department stores just to watch them stumble around in skimpy outfits with no undergarments. I think he would love sitting just in view of you pressed up against some stranger while wearing a sheer little button down, your nipples peaking through the fabric and getting hard.

At first you maybe would have protested, or tried to run away once he let you outside, legs scrambling to get away towards anywhere, anywhere away from him. But, he would quickly put those thoughts to rest by getting some puppets to restrain you until he catches up, a smile on his face as he greets you. Unlike a lot of the other phantom troupe members I don't think he would be completely delusional, as much as he would want you to become attached to him through stockholm syndrome, or through actual love, hes not stupid enough to believe that this was some kind of badly timed joke, or you just wanting to push his boundaries. Once he finally gets to you, he'd cup your cheek, giving you what was supposed to be a comforting stroke, but felt more like a threat before leaning in and showing you his phone screen, tuned in to something showing your family's apartment, the point of view of your younger sister. Realization would hit you almost instantly, as you watched the threat that he could and would do anything if you resisted.

After having such an intense threat, the lewd situations he put you through paled in comparison to the idea of what would happen if you resisted. Regardless, you couldn't help your face from heating up and your legs pressing together whenever he made you go out without panties under your skirt or shorts. The worst of it was whenever he decided to put you on crowded public transportation, which unfortunately seemed to be his favorite.

You knew that other people would stare at you once they noticed the situation you were in. Shalnark loved how embarrassed you would get when this happened, and after a little attempted anything to try and get more people to notice you. He would trip you as you climbed onto the bus, making you stumble and reveal your ass as your skirt rode up. He always made you board last just to ensure that you would be clutching the handles coming down from the ceiling, showing off your lewd chest to everyone around you. Even though you tried your best to keep your eyes on the ground during these excursions, if felt nearly impossible to keep him out of your line of sight. He would always be staring at you, a smile plastered on his face as you could see the tent growing in his pants.

Every time, after tormenting you like this for at least an hour, he would drag you off and rush you back to the house he kept you in. Once you got inside he would waste no time in smashing his mouth against yours and practically dragging you to the bedroom. Despite being so eager to have you to himself though, he would take his time before taking off your clothes. He would run his hands over your thinly clothed chest, tweaking at your nipples until you where whining and sobbing for him to touch you. He would keep you in his lap, sucking bruises into your neck as you whined.

The whole time his mouth would be running a commentary about how, "You were such a tease out there, did you see the way that man in blue was staring at you? I could tell he was just itching to shove a hand down your pants."

The whole ordeal would feel less like him wanting to have sex with you and more like him using you as a toy. Even though he would play with you, and fuck you just in that spot he knew you loved, the speed and desperation in his movements made it feel like you were just there to be used. He would make you cum multiple times, creampieing you and stuffing you back full of both of your fluids. At the end he would throw you a towel to get yourself cleaned up, but he wouldn't be comforting afterwards unless you were going to bed, gripping you in an uncomfortably tight embrace and drifting off to sleep with you in his arms.

[after-witch]

Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to 'I Never Could Tell You.' You've been kidnapped by a member of the Phantom Troupe, who makes you witness horrific torture and murder in a dingy, blood-soaked basement. And that's not even the worst part of it. 

Word count: 4306

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, descriptions of (non-reader) torture/gore/death, reader gets demeaned

It’s not that you don’t care about the people he’s torturing. You do, though they’re strangers. How can you not feel sorry for the people who beg for their lives, who beg for their families to be left alone, who pray for mercy with blood gurgling out of their mouths? 

It’s not that you don’t find it all horrifying, the way he orders you into the basement so that you can sit on a rusty folding chair and watch him “work.” His work consists of knives and hammers and pliers and all manner of terrible things. His work consists of blood and gore and wounds you didn’t realize that people could survive. But they do. Oh, they do. 

Of course it’s horrifying. Of course you feel a sickened type of pity for the people he’s--eventually, after much suffering and so much blood--killing. 

But…

You feel far more pity, far more frustration, far more stomach-twisting agony… for yourself.

Is it selfish to feel this way? Surely it is. But you think, after all that’s happened, after what your life has turned into, you are entitled to a little selfishness. It’s only right. It’s only fair. Your life has become a difficult, red-hot living hell that you barely managed to endure day in, day out. 

No, he hasn’t tortured you like he does the others he brings “home.” He hasn’t cut off your limbs or sewn your mouth shut or broken your hands. 

You thought he might, at first. You remember the first day he marched you into the basement. It wasn’t that long after he took you. A few days, maybe. Your eyes took in the table stained with old blood, the restraints, the sharp and nasty tools hanging up on the wall. There was an oppressive stinging stench of cleaning liquid, but it didn’t completely take away the lingering metallic odor of old blood and other vile liquids underneath. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” You’d asked. Your voice hadn’t been shaking, you didn’t have tears in your eyes. You asked it like you were asking him what you were going to eat for lunch. 

And maybe that’s why he had snorted, why you saw his eyes crinkle above his cowl the slightest bit. He had shaken his head and pointed to the chair. You sat, quiet, as you often were. And then he brought someone down the stairs, handcuffs keeping their arms pinned behind their back, and tortured them to death while you watched in silent shock and horror. 

“What did you think?” He asked afterward, blood on his face, his hands, his shirt. His voice had been high and teasing. An image came to your mind, an impression--that of a neighbor boy presenting a dead frog to a little girl, hoping she might shriek.

But you didn’t shriek. This was a shock, to be sure. You just watched another person die in horrible pain. There was real blood and real gore and real body parts in front of you. But what good would shrieking do? You never reacted like that, when you were scared or worried or horrified. You always managed to stay calm; to think things through, rational, weighty. That is the way your mind is always worked, and it hadn’t changed, despite the change in your circumstances. 

So, instead of crying, instead of calling him a monster, you simply pursed your lips and gave him an expression that the other students back at university often called “haughty.” Judgmental, snobbish. Like you were above it all. And you were, in a way. You refused to even dignify his question with an answer, consequences be damned. 

His eyes had widened, but he didn’t say anything, not directly. And you don’t think you imagined the way his eyes crinkled again, as if he was smiling underneath the now-bloodstained cowl. As if he liked what you said, even when he was trying to tease something else out of you.

That was the first time he made you watch someone die. It wasn’t the last. 

You wish you could say that you hate it when he brings you into the basement the most. That watching people die is the worst experience you have with the Phantom Troupe member who kidnapped you. That you simply wring your hands over having to watch people suffer over and over.

But it isn’t the thing you hate the most. Far from it. 

It’s what he does outside the confines of the basement that dig into you again and again, like the rusty hooks you’ve seen hanging up downstairs. Every little action is another shift, another press against your heart and soul, making you want to claw your way out of here in any way possible.

The problem is, it just isn’t fucking possible. You’ve had nothing but time to think of ways to escape. But it seems like every time you find a possible avenue to explore, he’s there to quash it, as if he can read your thoughts. It’s like he knows you almost as well as you know yourself. And you hate it.

He hasn’t hurt you. Not seriously. Some bruises on your arms from being dragged downstairs or sore muscles from standing in the same position for hours notwithstanding. Sometimes you think that you could handle it better if he was hurting you all the time. If he was threatening to break your fingers or tying you down and running a knife down your collarbone, maybe you could deal with it, compartmentalize it like you do the screams in the basement.

But what he does instead? It’s unbearable. It’s agonizing. It’s… 

A touch.

You feel his hand ghost along the small of your back and your breath hitches as your body jerks forward. And in that moment, you truly hate yourself for that sound, that soft, startled helpless little noise that he managed to get from you. 

“Scare you?” He asks, voice thick with amusement. If you could see his face, you imagine he’d be grinning. 

But you can’t see shit, because there’s still a thick blindfold wrapped around your eyes. You weren’t tied up--God, it would be so much easier on your mind if you were--but you kept your hands stiff at your sides all this time anyway, willing yourself to feel bound by something other than practical obedience to your captor’s whim. 

After he’d secured the blindfold with a tight knot some time ago, he’d simply whispered in your ear, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Keep it on for me. And don’t move.” 

Of course he was planning to sneak up on you.  You should have been prepared for it, but you were lost in thought. How long had he left you standing there, anyway? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Long enough that your feet had gone tired. But you didn’t move, even to ease that ache. Out of stubbornness. Out of the practical knowledge that when he told you to do something, you did it, because otherwise…

Goosebumps run up both your arms in the wake of his touch, of the startled biological response that you can’t help, no matter how much you try to prepare for him. 

Bastard. Fucker.  Your jaw clenches down and you resolve not to let him hear anymore unwilling sounds from your lips today. Not if you can help it. And you can help it, you think, tightening your fists. You can, you can, you can.

His hands rest against either of your sides, but this time you’re prepared. You stiffen underneath his touch, but you give him nothing more than that. Not even when his hands ghost up the delicate white fabric of the dress he put you in that morning. Not even when the feel of his fingers softly tracing the lace up your side reminds you of the utterly humiliating dress that you’re wearing. 

He makes you wear such stupid clothing. Soft things. Frilly things. Dresses, nightgowns, delicate fabrics and flowing skirts that are so far from the practical sweaters and tailored trousers in your carefully curated wardrobe at your apartment. 

This clothing makes you feel small and helpless and above all, stupid. It makes you feel like some wide-eyed doe, trapped in a horror movie. (You are, a part of you suggests. Isn’t that exactly what you are?)

Above all, it makes your cheeks burn. Especially in the aftermath of slipping on whatever dress he’s thrown at you and seeing his eyes rake you over, assessing. Especially when he smiles and coos at you. “Pretty.” 

He probably gets off on humiliating you, you reason. But even that knowledge, and the desire to prevent him from getting as much satisfaction as humanly possible in your situation, doesn't keep your cheeks from burning red hot every time. It doesn’t soothe your wounded pride or patch together the barely-hanging-on remnants of your dignity. 

“So quiet,” he murmurs, as he continues his touch. The warmth of his body feels oppressive against your back. You want to fight him. You want to turn around and do something, anything. Fight back! Scream at him! Scream at yourself, at the world. Let something out other than that low burning controlled irritation that slips out now and then. 

But you don’t.  You clench your fist tighter and you take slow, shallow breaths. 

It’s not in your nature to do otherwise. You know that. And besides…  you have to stay in control. Some control, any control. It’s all you have now. 

If you give that up, what do you have left? 

And that’s why, instead of thinking about the woman in the basement who died this morning cursing out the Phantom Troupe through blood-spattered breaths, you’re currently thinking about yourself. Your helplessness and your humiliation and your burning anger. At Feitan, at the Phantom Troupe, at Marie. At yourself. 

Is it wrong? Is it selfish? 

You don’t think it’s fair to make yourself decide the answer to those questions. Life is unfair enough, now. 

You feel Feitan moving, stepping around to your front now. His fingers ghost the straps of your dress and your shoulders tighten at the ticklish sensation. And then he reaches around and unties the blindfold, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.

You keep your eyes shut tight to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your full expression.

--

Feitan doesn’t believe in God. But if he did, he thinks he might just be willing to get on his knees and thank the Almighty Lord Above for giving him you. 

You’re a mess of contradictions. Stoic but afraid. Composed outwardly but so unsteady underneath.

Hard, prim, on the outside… but oh, you can be so much softer than you want to be on the inside. You hate it, and he loves it. There are such delightful prickles in his chest when he can tell that you hate everything he does to amplify that inner weakness of yours. 

He sees the way you snub your nose at the clothes he picks out, the way your lips curl in distaste, the way you try to tug down the short hems or shrink away from the flouncing skirts. The way your body takes a few moments to react to his orders, the way you keep your expressions neutral and composed as much as you can as you flitter about the house like a good little thing and do what he says.

Something in him curls up with such wicked content to see you, every single time. 

Not just because he likes the way you look in the clothing. Not just because he loves to see you so obedient for him. He does. But because more than that, he loves the way you look when you can’t do anything about it. When you frown and shove down irritation but you do what he says, because you know you must. When you stand so, so still as he touches you, lips ghosting over your jaw, hands groping your breasts, and he knows you want nothing more than to shove him away. 

There’s something else to it. He won’t voice it. Not to you, not to anyone else. But he wonders, he really does, if this is how Chrollo might react in the incredibly unlikely event that he would ever fall under the control of someone more powerful than himself. Would Chrollo have these little tics? These subtle tells that give away what you’re thinking to someone who has spent time studying you? 

Every reaction hat he can illicit from your body, your mouth, your very being is utterly thrilling. Like the strum of an fine instrument under his fingers. And you’re not even a nen user. Just someone who, in that ordinary world that Feitan has never truly lived in, would be considered strong and confident. 

Out there, anyway. In here, what else can  you be but his good little pet? 

Sit, stay, roll over. 

You hate it. But you do it anyway, because you are, above all, seeking to avoid pain. Isn’t everyone that comes into contact with him doing just that?  

He wonders if even if you have a limit. If there is something he could demand that you would finally deny, giving him free allowance to punish you properly. The thought makes him shudder with pleasure. He imagines your skin reddened under his fingers, the sting of his palm on your ass, maybe, or even thin stripes of blood from a whip…

He’s almost grateful for the cowl that hides the way his mouth curls up at the thought. 

Silly thing. Prideful thing. He’s having so much fun breaking it down, he can’t imagine why he should ever stop.

So he won’t. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. 

And it takes a moment. He sees the thoughts in your head whirling, gears clicking. Your eyelashes stick to your skin for just a moment as you slowly release your clenched muscles and stare straight ahead, looking at him with the dullest expression you can manage  

All he has to do is glance down at your hands to see them clenched, the easiest sign of how perturbed you really are.

But you, precious you, see him looking and slowly, carefully release the tension in your fists, letting your hands lay limp at your sides. Do you think he’s fooled? Do you think he didn’t already enjoy the sight of your shaking fists? 

You’re lovely to him, and you probably don’t even know why.

“Stay still.”

His hands move to grip your jaw, firm but not squeezing. But you don’t push him away. You even keep your hands limp, probably through quite a considerable amount of effort. Your eyes flick to his face when he pulls down his cowl, and you look away just as quickly. He caught you, silly thing. 

He smiles. And your eyes narrow just the tiniest bit when he does, sending low pleasure down his stomach. Do you even know what you do to him? You must. At least in moments like this, when he’s content to give in this carnal desires.

He tilts your chin up with his fingers, moving your head from side to side, like he’s examining a prize horse up for sale at the market.

Your throat swallows and he watches the movement before leaning in and tracing one of the faint bruises his teeth left on your neck with his tongue. The skin underneath tenses, and he can feel the way your muscles tighten as his mouth makes contact.

Delicious.

You must want to get away so bad, he thinks. But you stay so perfectly still and let him do what he wants with you--because you must. 

What else is there for someone like you?

--

Every touch is sickening. You want to clench your fist so bad, but the knowledge that he’s seeing you do it keeps that urge at Bay. You want to deny him as much as you can. You want to keep even the smallest shred of your dignity intact for as long as possible. Just an ounce. Just an inch.

If you can.

And then his fingers are on your chin and it makes you wanna vomit. The soft gestures normally reserved for lovers are perverted and twisted.  You’re thankful, mildly, when his mouth goes for your throat and not your lips. You can’t stand it when he kisses you. Especially when he does it, on the occasional moment, gently--like he is your lover, like his something soft and sweet. Instead of who he is and what he is and what this all is.

Your throat swallows reflexively as he begins to kiss and suck at your neck. There’s residual soreness from the last time he decided to leave a wake of painful hickeys, but for now it’s merely an annoyance. Merely something that churns your stomach and makes bile rise to your throat. 

You feel like a doll. A dumb little doll in a frilly dress that can do nothing but stand and let some asshole do what he wants with you.

The feeling is only amplified when he pulls away, returning his hand to your chin and gently stroking it. Like you’re some prize. Like you’re his doll. 

“You have been good,” he says simply. 

You simply stare at him, dull as you can manage.

“Don’t you want something?” He offers. There’s the hint of a smirk on his face, a smug expression that you’re all too familiar with by this point. You ignore it as best you can. You ignore him as best you can.

But it doesn’t last.

The hand on your chin tightens. 

“Answer.” Just a hint of annoyance to his voice, the stretch of tension that tells you that you’ve reached the thinnest part of the tightrope. Better not press your luck.

You set your jaw low. But you do answer.

“Like what?”

His grip softens, and it makes your stomach drop when you recognize the move for what it is--training. Be good, and he’ll be good back.

That smirk returns and his voice is lower, taking on an almost huskier tone 

“A reward. For being so good for me.” 

And oh, there’s a snake inside you that wants to lash out with venom and tell Feitan where to stick his fucking reward.

There’s something else inside, too. A curdling feeling when you realize you have no idea that he might consider a “reward” for you. There are so many terrible possibilities that you wish you’d acted out, if only to avoid this very conversation.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

You shrug.

“I… can’t really think of anything.”

It’s not a lie. You don’t think about rewards or things that you want anymore. You just think about what you don’t want. You don’t want to be dressed up like a doll. You don’t want to be told what to do. You don’t want your life controlled by this piece of shit. 

You don’t get what you want, anymore. 

He flicks your forehead, and it’s such an odd, childish gesture that you can’t help the confusion that crosses your face. You regret it immediately, because he sees, and you’ve given him so much already today.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reassuring. “Thought of something for you already.” 

Your throat feels like it has something hard and sharp stuck in it when you swallow. You don’t really wanna hear the next words out of his mouth, but you don’t have a choice. 

He jerks his head towards the kitchen and walks away. Your limbs feel stiff as you follow, regret in every footstep. You should just tell him you don’t want a reward. But then he might use that as an incentive to punish you in some way. Which would be worse? Whatever he has planned, or whatever he might do if you stop obeying him.

In the end, you can’t choose, which is perhaps the hardest pill to swallow because it’s the truest action you can take. It’s not up to you anymore. It’s up to Feitan now.

In the center of the kitchen table is a cell phone. Your legs start to feel heavy and numb as you sit down, waiting for Feitan to do the same.

As he sits, he pushes the phone towards you.

“Go ahead. One number on it.”

The dryness in your mouth seems to come from nowhere, and you lick your lips, desperate for some relief. Who is he having you call? He said it was a reward, but… things are not so simple with Feitan. 

Never has the prospect of a phone call been both terrifying and hopeful at the same time. 

Slowly, with shaking fingers, you lift up the phone and open it up to the contacts list. There’s no name, just a number. You don’t know how long it takes you to press SEND, but you do, and press the phone to your ear.

Dread and elation mix terribly in your stomach as it rings, making you feel sick, making your heart pound.

“Hello?”

It’s Marie. 

Immediately, your eyes dart to Feitan. He’s watching you with an almost placid expression, like the type you usually strive to keep on your face. It’s unnerving. You’d rather he smile. You’d rather he gloat. Instead, he’s… watching. Observing. 

You’re torn between focusing on keeping your outward control intact and focusing on the voice coming from the speaker.

“Marie,” you say, and there’s so much in your voice that you can’t quite pinpoint. Worry. Bitterness. Regret. 

“I… I’m sorry,” she says, quickly, half-muttering through a choked voice. “Really. I didn’t mean--I didn’t want, I didn’t want you to--” her words cut off and you get the impression that she’s muffling sobs into her hands.

You feel terrible, because you have to bite back the urge to tell her that she’s not the one stuck watching people get tortured to death in some psychopath’s basement. … Well, probably. You certainly don’t know much of anything about the man who took Marie, but you get the feeling that if Marie had been forced to witness people getting killed on a regular basis, she would have been in far worse shape when you found her.

Instead, you drum your fingers on your arm.

“Marie. Calm down. You have to calm down if you want to talk.” 

You hear a loud sniffle on the other end. She clears her throat.

“O-Okay,” she says, softer, a little calmer. “How…. how are you?”

There’s a pause, and in the pause you can hear her telling herself that it was a stupid question. And it was.

“I’m… alive,” you say, and you can’t help the way your eyes glance at Feitan once more. Still nothing in his expression. It only makes the pit in your stomach harder.

“Has he hurt you?” Her voice is soft and strained and whispered. “What is he doing to you? God, I’m so sorry--”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, harsher than you meant to. You soften your tone for the next part. “Really. I’m… he’s…”

But you don’t finish, because you’re not stupid enough to talk bad about your kidnapper when he’s sitting right across from you. And when you’re only a few steps away from the staircase that leads into his literal torture basement. 

“You can tell her,” Feitan says, watching you from across the table. There it is, now, on his lips--the ghost of a smile. “Tell her everything. Why not?” 

Is it a command? You can’t exactly decide.

“What--what does he do to you?” There’s this empty sound in Marie’s voice that inspires both pity and ire. She’s sorrowful, but she isn’t you. You knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t out of place being under someone’s thumb, whether it was you pushing her to get back to school or the leader of the Phantom Troupe keeping her like some sort of caged bird. But you? The same could not be said about you.

You bite your lip. And then you tell her. Everything. You tell her about all the people you’ve watched die. You tell her about the clothes he makes you wear. You tell her about all the times he’s ordered you to sit still while he touches you, hands groping, pinching, taking whatever he wants. You tell her about everything, all while Feitan watches, chin in his hand, expression almost dreamy and faraway.

By the end, you feel some sort of cathartic release. You got it out to someone. Not to someone who can give you sage advice on how to handle it, but fuck did it feel good to give your thoughts a voice for once.

The same cannot be said about Marie, who began crying about halfway through and has yet to stop. It wouldn’t be out of place to call her borderline hysterical at this point, but she ignores your interjections, your attempts to make her relax.

There’s more sobbing, pitiful sounds, some high-pitched begging--”Please, Chrollo, make him let her go”--and then the line cuts dead.

There’s silence for a few moments. And in that silence, everything clicks. You’re being rewarded. Or so he says. You got some emotional release, however brief.

But for Marie, the phone call was meant as a punishment. Now she’s left to deal with the heavy regret of knowing exactly what her friend is going through. Or at least the surface parts of it. 

Your hands feel tingly as you slide the phone back in the center of the table. 

“Feel good to say it?” Feitan asks. And you get the sense he’s not teasing, from the way he’s still looking at you, chin cupped in his hand, eyes alert and focused on nothing but your expressions.

You think about it. Why not be honest? You have nothing else. 

“A little.” 

The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, making his way over to you. There’s the innate instinct to set your expression into neutral, prepared for anything. For him to pull you up and drag you into the basement or his bedroom or who knows where.

Instead he reaches out and, gentle as anything, pats your head.

”Keep being a good girl, you get more nice rewards.”

Oh, the fucking bastard. Your head practically whips around as you shoot him the angriest glare you can manage, cheeks burning, mouth pursed, nostrils flaring in irritation. How dare he. How dare he treat you like some porcelain doll, some sweet pet, some thing to manipulate and manage--

He chuckles, throwing his head back a bit, and the genuine appearance of mirth on his face is both terrifying and annoying as hell. Hot humiliation flushes in your chest, sharp with irritation at yourself for losing so much control. You’ve given him too much. You’ve lost the day to him, giving him what he wants, what he’s been trying to tease out of you for hours. 

You hate him. 

There’s always tomorrow to try again. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that…

[ddarker-dreams]

How would a regretful morning with Chrollo look like?

Warning for yandere themes and mild not SFW implications !

“Why… are you in my bed…?”

This cannot be real life.

Chrollo Lucilfer, the notorious head of the Phantom Troupe, a criminal with an A class bounty upon his head, rests peacefully by your side like he belongs there. Perhaps he did, many months ago. When your relationship was defined by spontaneous dates to local coffee shops, sitting on your apartment’s balcony and debating which art era was the most pretentious, or taking long car rides to nowhere in particular with the radio turned down low.

No, that was ruined by the man who chose to have a spider tattoo carved into his alabaster skin.

Chrollo shifts, but judging by his breathing, he was probably already awake.

“For the same reason you are, I wager,” is his response, far too familiar for your liking, “To sleep.”

You eye his favorite dark leather coat draped across a chair in your bedroom and frown. It’s as if nothing ever changed. As if you hadn’t discovered his criminal inclinations, which permanently severed any chance at a normal relationship. If you were being honest with yourself, you almost feel tempted to lay back down and play along with the charade. His cologne, the husky lilt of his voice in the morning; everything’s familiar in the worst of ways. You may not be as proficient an actor as he is, but you could get close enough.

But you won’t.

“I don’t know what happened last night—” You cut yourself off at the wordless expression of sure you don’t lining his features, then resume after clearing your throat, “—I don’t really care either. Just… just get out, okay?”

Chrollo stretches his arms above his head yet remains planted. “You never were a good liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you ‘don’t really care’, yet your eyes and voice are trembling,” Chrollo hums, tilting his head, messy locks of black hair framing his face. “Do I scare you, darling?”

That’s right. He could read you like an open book, your every mannerism another sentence free for him to interpret however he so pleased. Chrollo might possess some strange sort of fondness for you, but that doesn’t change what he’s done, what he can do. You should know. You dedicated weeks to researching the Troupe’s gruesome escapades, feeling like you owed it to the numerous victims for having entertained the orchestrator of it all for so long.

“... No, you don’t.”

The bastard has the audacity to laugh. “Cute.”

Spurred on by how little he treats you seriously, you reach for your phone, a maneuver he observes with mild amusement. If he wanted to, he could’ve stopped you. That must mean he still doesn’t feel threatened. You’re going to change that.

“If you don’t get out, I’m calling the police,” you mutter, then, remembering who exactly you’re dealing with, add, “Or Hunters, whatever it is that gets rid of vermin like you.”

You make a point to stare him dead in the eye, which he returns in a far more lackadaisical manner. He sighs, shakes his head as if you told him a joke in poor taste, then outstretches his hand. It takes a few long seconds for you to realize he actually means for you to hand it over. You grimace, hugging your phone closer to your chest in a display of defiance.

Chrollo, unperturbed as ever, strikes with a comment out of left field. “I thought you cleaned your apartment recently.”

“Huh? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well,” he drawls, in a tone that’s beyond grating to your ears, “An abundance of blood leaves quite the nasty stain behind — I doubt you’ll ever get it to wash up.”

The implication leaves you at a genuine loss for words. Are there truly no measures you could take that’d intimidate him? Staring into the unwavering depths of gray, that’s witnessed more death than you could ever fathom, you come to your own conclusion. There isn’t. So you place your phone into his awaiting hands. He hums, evidently pleased at your obedience, though you doubt he would’ve let you go through with the phone call.

“Is your password still the same? I’ll order some brunch.”

In a daze, you nod, only to remember you never once told him your password before.

[illumisimi]

Can you do a yandere Shalnark with slight nsfw? “Am I wrong? You want to be loved, don’t you?”

“you want to be loved, don't you?”

characters: yandere! shalnark

warnings: slight non-con, suggestive

notes: im so delighted to be writing for shalnark again, he's most definitely been moved up to my #1 spot for sure ♡

you had simply been caught with your guard down. never had you imagined falling into a spider web such as his; and, try as you may, there was no getting out of it

shalnark had taken a liking to you ever since you had crossed paths on a mission. naturally, you were on opposite sides of the conflict; that didn't stop him from purposely tripping you over to fall right at his feet

in that moment, you gave him an all but welcoming glare, brushing yourself up in a hurry as you were called by a voice from afar. but he only needed those few seconds, eyes locking momentarily, to be convinced that you were the one

it was your attitude, your mannerisms, your...being. everything about you just seemed to spark up something in his mind, and he simply couldn't get enough. watching you disappear into the distance made him realise that, unless he took some sort of action, he was most likely never to see you again

but, unfortunately for you, the two of you did indeed meet again. though, this time it played out a little differently. somehow he had managed to sneak into your apartment, pricked your arm with what you would later assume was some sort of sedative and whisked you away into the hazy city streets

you tried to fight your way out of his grasp. hours spent clawing at the walls of what could only be considered a jail cell. no windows, only a bed and a simple toilet to keep you company when he wasn't around

it was a nightmare. you had heard from others that, despite his cheerful appearance, shalnark was one of the most unnerving members of the troupe. you were now realising what they meant by that

he was good with his words. a little too good. excluding the first few days of captivity where he would be inclined to knock you out whenever you'd try to go up against him, he would always greet you with the kindest of smiles

a plate in his hand, or sometimes even a gift. it didn't matter what he visited you for, his sickly smile never faltered. it was as if he were mocking you

"I brought you your favourite dessert!"

shivers ran down your spine each time he insisted on feeding you. there was something definitely not quite right with him. however, endless days of the same treatment eventually took a toll on you

he happened to walk in on one of your worst days. hands holding your head, you were sat in the corner of the dark room, tears slipping through your fingers

months had passed since you had last had a normal, human interaction. you craved comfort, reassurance, sympathy.

shalnark wasn't stupid. he could see what was going on with you. he would purposely avoid embracing you and giving you any affectionate attention. it was a mechanism that worked all too well for him.

"y/n! are you alright?"

teary eyes shot up from your curled up position, turning your head to look straight up at him. his figure was almost a blur from the light that shone in from the door. if only you could just-

"ah, ah, ah! you know the rules around here, sweetheart"

your attempt at jumping past him proved to be futile. catching you in his arms, you were now being cradled against his body, your cheek resting by his arm as you looked towards the open door

your body went limp. what was the point? you could feel his grip on you tighten, lifting you up slightly to make you look at him. such blue eyes could never belong to someone so corrupt as himself, and yet they stared down at you in faux adoration

he brought one of his hands out to caress your face, soft skin brushing against your tired features. you closed your eyes unconsciously, trying to imagine that it was anybody but him in that moment, finally giving you the peace you craved

"you could've just asked that you needed some extra attention, you know?"

your back was gently pushed back against the wall, legs finally straightening so as to prevent yourself from falling. you didn't lean away from him, though, bringing your face closer to him and resting your forehead by his shoulder

you were so entranced in your imaginary bliss that you hadn't even realised his hands had moved. a smooth touch roamed from your chest down your stomach, brushing over the fabric of your thin cloths

it wasn't until his hand made it a little too close to your thighs that you jolted up, stiffening upon realising his intentions

"what are you-!"

the hand that, just seconds ago, had been cradling your face was quickly wrapped around your neck, pushing your head back against the concrete wall with a low thump

as you looked up at him, it was clear that something had shifted in him. his eyes no longer held the same gleam as a few moments ago

you questioned if he could simply kill you off in that moment

"you wanted attention, didn't you?"

blinking away from him, you furrowed your brows in annoyance. yes, you craved affection, but most definitely not from him

"get the hell away from me"

he could read you like a book. despite all the voiced inside your head telling you to find a way out of his grasp, there was something keeping you back

it was as if you had lost your senses

"you could escape, your chance is right there and you know it. but you're like a deer in headlights"

his voice was laced with an amused tone. he had leaned down, speaking so close to your ear that it would only take a turn of your head to strike him

you missed this contact. more than you would ever admit to

his hand continued his ministrations, sliding ever so close to where you had been deprived of any kind of attention

"you want to be loved, don't you?"

2022 © illumisimi