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"Chrollo is a narcissist who dragged his friends into his murder suicide cult"
"Chrollo structured the Spider the way he did because he wants to control its members"
Aight, let's tackle these assertions I've seen thrown around at my blorbo. He may be a terrible human being but I shall defend what miniscule honor he has against slander like this á(ââ¸âźâś)á
(This will be lengthy because I am ND as fuck and Chrollo is my special interest. My capacity to yap about him has no limits)
Ok, let's start with
"Chrollo doesn't care about his friends"
Meanwhile Chrollo when
Uvogin dies
Paku betrays him and puts herself at risk
Paku has died
Kortopi and Shalnark die
Sarasa died
Idk looks like the demeanor and actions of a man who doesn't give a farthing about his friends to me ( ´_ă`)
For real though what are we doing with this claim, guys?
Chrollo's love for and grief over his friends are one of his most defining characteristics all the way from his childhood up until the present, as well as the most human and sympathetic one.
Sarasa's murder was the reason the PT was formed. Chrollo's empathy for her and for MC as a whole are the reason why he became who he became.
And it's important to note that Chrollo doesn't appear to actually deep down believe in the PT's creed, at least not when it concerns his friends (why keep Pakunoda's spot vacant if he truly saw her as a replaceable leg, for instance? Why mourn the deaths of Shal and Topi and arrange a manhunt for their killer?). Chrollo's a hypocrite in the sense that he expects his friends to readily sacrifice him if things go dicey since he sees himself as merely a head that can be replaced, but he would never be able to coldly and pragmatically sacrifice any of the others if push came to shove. He's intensely human and emotional at his core, and his care for his friends/family is indisputable. Attacking that spot is the one thing capable of triggering him and of making him lose his composure (and reason) to suicidal degrees.
"He's a narcissist who dragged his friends into his murder cult"
????
The kid was literally elected leader??????
Like did we forget this happened or...?
He didn't drag anyone into anything what are people on about? Stop acting like the other mass murderers have no agency when we see throughout the manga that they have plenty. For instance they outright disobey Chrollo's explicit wishes in Yorknew in order to save him, and are shown to oppose or question him too, which Chrollo takes calmly and without interrupting. He listens to their grievances and their input.
Going back to the founding of the Spider and Chrollo "dragging his friends into it", Sheila walked away and Chrollo didn't try to stop her or even to convince her to "join his cult". The others could have done the same but chose not to. That was their decision.
Chrollo never forced his friends to do shit. They've always been willing participants and many of them are shown to be sadists who delight in killing and torturing. They're having a good time most of the time. Stop babying them in order to make Chrollo look even worse (he's bad enough already, aight. He doesn't need additional â and false â PR to look like an asshole).
As for being a narcissist, Chrollo doesn't even have a grasp on his own identity and places no value on himself as an individual, but sees himself as wholly replaceable and as no better or of more worth than any of his troupe members. That is not at all the mindset of a narcissist.
He's also explicitly shown to not give a rat's ass about his own life whilst on the other hand grieving for his friends to the point of crying and of self destruction.
I've even seen someone say that he "monopolizes" the notes left beside Sarasa's body and that he doesn't show real grief but uses the scene of her murder as an opportunity to monologue about himself.
Which... are just outright lies
In reality
HE is the one person who shows the most concern for Sarasa from the get go
HE is the one who walks up on stage to announce Sarasa's disappearance, crying and clutching his clothes like the anxious and frightened child he is, and taking full responsibility for the situation (not because he's a narcissistic attention whore but because he is an 11 year old kid who has been groomed by the grown ups around him and who has been placed in a position where all his friends look to him for guidance. It's messed up, but not because child Chrollo is evil, but because he â a baby not even in his teens â genuinely feels responsible for everyone at this stage, when he in fact shouldn't have to shoulder any of this)
HE is the one who first cradles Sarasa's body and HE is the one who silently carries all the horrors of what was done to her.
And the latter is not out of a desire to "monopolize" the situation. That's asinine talk.
Rather it's almost certainly to protect his friends, Sarasa included. He is shielding the living from knowing something that visibly broke something within himself, and he is also shielding Sarasa's dignity by not detailing the horrors she went through.
This is way more in keeping with Chrollo's character as presented in the manga.
My point is, Chrollo acts with the protection of his friends in mind. It's not a way to exert some form of control of the situation or to be the sole person holding the narrative* (*genuine claim I've seen btw) or some bullcaca like that come on now.
Also, in this moment Chrollo is a literal child who's just been irreversibly scarred for life. To have to read the note for himself is awful enough, but to do so aloud? To voice the excrutiating specifics? I doubt he'd even be capable of it, even if he hadn't had his self sacrificing mindset. To expect him to is asking a lot of an emotionally traumatized child cradling the dismembered corpse of his friend.
(As for the monologuing it comes after her funeral. At the scene of Sarasa's murder Chrollo is openly crying and distraught. After Uvogin rips him away from Sarasa's corpse and then throws him to the ground Franklin is seen comforting him as he weeps in the rain and dirt. To say he isn't grief stricken is disingenuous. Even after the funeral it's obvious that Chrollo is still messed up by the event; the closeup of his eyes as he speaks of the perpetrators twisted mindset is notably similar to the closeup of his eyes when Machi meets him on the black whale and he declares his intent to kill Hisoka.)
"Chrollo structured the Spider the way he did because he wants to control its members"
yeah mmhm. Right.
That's why he allows Hisoka to fuck around doing whatever.
That's why the whole troupe only ever meet up like once every 2 years and are able to do as they please all that time (Greed Island is a perfect example of the Troupe's independence; hell they even recruit a new member while Chrollo's gone and who he accepts)
That's why Uvogin and the others are at liberty to deal with opponents in Yorknew the way they see fit (Chrollo doesn't attempt to stop Uvogin from going after Kurapika by himself).
That's why Chrollo is shown calmly listening to his friends, and why he places Machi's hunches above his own.
That's why he's perfectly alright with dying and letting someone else take over as head.
That's why he doesn't tell the Spiders how to go about capturing Hisoka or that they can't kill him.
There's so much wrong with the claim that Chrollo wants to control his friends like a deranged cult leader that I am genuinely baffled by it
Again he was ELECTED leader
Chrollo wanted UVO to be Danchou. He himself didn't ever aim or even wish to become the leader and this very fact is stated by Togashi himself in an interview as a core aspect of Chrollo's character; this "this is how things are, so I will do my best"Â mindset. Togashi states that Chrollo is his favorite Spider and that he admires him specifically because he didn't nominate himself as leader nor actively sought the position, but stepped up to it because that's what the collective wanted. He respected the group's decision and made it his mission to do his best for them. It was never about ego or control.
Like how do you get this fundamental part of his character wrong?
Chrollo's character has never been about being a control freak, but about being a person who had responsibility shoved onto him before he'd even graduated middle school.
Genuinely... how can you read HxH and come away with the impression that Chrollo is a narcissistic control freak who doesn't care about the Troupe? I truly don't understand, because it runs counter to everything we know of him.
He's a POS absolutely but he's also complex. He is not 100% black but has shades of grey.
The backstory explicitly shows us that Chrollo was a good and empathetic kid who'd bring fresh flowers to the graves of murdered children (Pakunoda, a character explicitly shown to be good at reading others and to be deeply empathetic herself, picks up on his kind nature which is why she cares for and treasures him so much. The same I believe can be said of Sarasa, who was similarly good at reading others), whose upbringing, trauma, and feelings of responsibility (the latter seemingly drilled into him by the elders and definitely by everyone around him) warped him into the man we see in present day.
He's a dark mirror to Kurapika, a cautionary tale of what could happen if you walk down the full path of revenge and consuming anger. A key distinction though is that Chrollo never had a good support system unlike Kurapika. Chrollo was an orphan raised in filth and poverty where every day was a scramble for resources and survival and where he was bullied by kids bigger and older than himself until he proved himself, and where his friends were in no position to help either because they came from the same shithole and weren't equipped to give him fresh perspective. They were all discarded or spat upon by the world outside and left by the adults around them to raise themselves and survive best they could.
If you believe Chrollo was born evil and that he is narcissistic and controlling and incapable of caring about anyone then you either fundamentally fail to grasp his character or you willfully disregard it in favor to further fuel your own hatred for him. Or maybe it comes down to an unwillingness to recognize that Chrollo is not a character that can be boiled down to simplicities or extremes.
Chrollo is a fascinating and effective character precisely because there are aspects of him that are sympathetic and because his present self was, in a way, created by empathy and the complete absence of ego, rather than the opposite. Empathy for Sarasa and MC were the reason he became who he is. He was a naturally sensitive, caring and groomed child with a savior complex and too much responsibility (such as blaming himself for Sarasa's death, and protecting his friends from reading the note). His identity was swallowed whole in the process.
Chrollo's life is a tragedy because he could have turned out a good person. To strip him down to being irredeemably evil from birth ruins his character and his story.
Dgmw, I am not excusing or absolving Chrollo of his actual flaws or crimes. I've made dedicated posts pointing out how terrible he is. But let's not go twist his character into a one dimensional "born evil" character who strung his poor innocent friends along and "forced them" into becoming mass murderers. That is never who he has been.
I could probably go on but this is long enough. Just needed to vent a little haha. I am very passionate about this man, what can I say.
Tl;dr, it's valid to hate Chrollo, but there is no need to go inventing additional reasons to. He's plenty despicable already.
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Feitan Portor x Fem Reader x Chrollo Lucifer: Shadows in the Rain #2
{ This scenario was requested }
NOTE: This is Part 2! You can read Part 1 HERE.
Info / Summary: After Feitan mentions a mysterious woman from his mission, Chrollo becomes intrigued and seeks her out.
Warnings: Mild tension, power dynamics, canon-typical violence mentions (background).
A few days after the warehouse job, the Phantom Troupe was gathered in their temporary hideout. Someone casually asked Feitan, âAny complications on that artifact retrieval?â Feitan clicked his tongue in annoyance. âSome woman showed up. Handled her own business. Fought clean. Didnât get in my way too much.â
The room went quiet for a beat. Then a few members raised eyebrows âWait⌠you didnât kill her?â Phinks asked, confused. Feitan shrugged, looking irritated. âShe wasnât worth the effort. Too much noise if I did. And her stupid threads messed with the security before I could. Saved me time. Whatever.â
It was a lame excuse, and everyone knew it. Feitan rarely left witnesses. But he refused to elaborate further. Chrollo, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward with growing interest. âDescribe her,â he said calmly. Feitan gave a brief, grumpy rundown calm demeanor, sharp mind, efficient fighting style, strange Nen threads that analyzed and disabled systems. The more he spoke, the more curious Chrollo became. A woman who could stand her ground with Feitan and walk away alive? That was rare.
âFind her,â Chrollo ordered softly. âI want to meet her myself.â It didnât take the Troupe long to locate you.
You were deep in an old abandoned research facility on the edge of the city, on a personal solo mission. You needed classified documents on a past incident that had haunted you. Information the collector from the previous job had indirectly pointed toward. Your movements were silent and precise. Your Nen ability, Veil of Insight, let thin aura threads spread through the corridors, mapping security systems, predicting patrol routes, and highlighting the safest path forward.
Chrollo watched from the shadows for nearly twenty minutes. He was impressed. Your intelligence was evident in every calculated step. The way you avoided unnecessary fights, disabled traps with minimal effort, and adapted instantly when a guard changed their route. You moved like someone who had already foreseen most outcomes.
You suddenly paused in a dimly lit hallway. Your threads had picked up an anomaly. âShow yourself,â you said quietly, voice steady but defensive. You turned slowly, posture alert but not aggressive. You were doing your best to avoid conflict because you didnât want to fight if you didnât have to. Chrollo stepped out into the open, hands visible and empty, that calm, elegant smile on his face.
âYouâre very perceptive,â he said, voice smooth like velvet. âMost wouldnât have noticed me so quickly.â You studied him carefully, recognition flickering in your eyes. âYouâre the leader Feitan answers to.â Your tone was reserved, carrying that quiet weight. âHow did you find me?â Chrollo didnât lie. âI had my people search after Feitan mentioned you. A woman who could work alongside him without dying⌠that intrigued me.â
You stayed defensive, creating a bit of distance. âIâm not looking for trouble. I have my own objectives here. Iâd prefer if we didnât interfere with each other.â Chrollo took a slow step closer, observing how your sharp mind worked behind those calm eyes. âYou carry yourself like someone who has seen too much. Someone who chooses their battles carefully.â He tilted his head slightly. âYet you continue walking alone. Why not align yourself with something stronger?â
You remained composed, but your guard was clearly up. âBecause I know the cost of joining a web like yours. Iâve seen what happens when paths like that consume everything.â The conversation stretched. Chrollo was patient, he didnât push with force. Instead, he engaged you intellectually, discussing philosophy, the weight of choices, and the nature of power. You countered calmly, revealing just enough of your own insights to match him. It was a battle of minds, and you held your own.
After a long, tense exchange, Chrollo finally offered his hand. âI wonât force you into the Troupe,â he said softly. âBut I would like you by my side. Your mind and your strength is rare. Join us and we can walk this path together.â You looked at his outstretched hand for a long moment. Your expression stayed serene, but there was a flicker of reluctant acceptance in your eyes. You were tired of walking completely alone.
âI need time to ponder.â you finally said, looking away from his hand. Chrolloâs smile deepened. âI see.â
Hey @xenxenzen ! I'm sorry if this part is stupid!!! I'm not sure where I should go from here! If you have any crazy ideas, let me know.
âŠYour Pace: Toji x Shy/Autistic Female Reader - Part 6âŠ
âŠË･ Summary ･Ë⊠: Sad from not seeing Toji for days, Reader heads to a sketchy tax office at night. She spots a lone little boy who reminds her of someone.
⥠Warnings / Info ⥠: Soft fluff, Shy reader, overthinking, autistic reader Slice of life, gentle pacing, Mentions of grocery shopping, No angst, no spicy content
The days had blurred together in that quiet, heavy way they sometimes did when the world felt a little too empty. You hadnât seen him in almost a week. No tall shadow falling into step beside you on the usual route. No patient voice cutting through the noise with a simple âHey, kid.â No shared bags or warm broth or the steady rhythm of footsteps matching yours.
You told yourself it was fine. People got busy. Life moved at its own pace, not yours. But the ache still settled in your chest every time you passed the ramen spot or the grocery aisle where youâd first run into him again. You fidgeted with the strap of your bag more than usual, fingers twisting the fabric until it creased.
Tonight was no different. The sun had dipped low, painting the streets in bruised oranges and deepening shadows. Youâd put off the tax thing long enough. The funky little ad youâd found tucked in your mailbox promised cheap help: âTaxes done quick and easy for just a few dollars!â And with your budget, it sounded like a lifeline. Probably too good to be true, but you were tired and the deadline was creeping up.
The office was in a part of town you didnât usually go. Narrow streets, flickering streetlights, buildings that looked like theyâd seen better decades. Your steps slowed the closer you got, shoulders curling in as the noise of distant traffic and muffled voices pressed against your ears. You clutched the strap of your bag tighter, breathing slow like you practiced. Just get it done. Then you can go home, make tea, curl up with Trixie, and pretend the week hadnât felt so⌠empty.
Thatâs when you saw him.
A little boy, maybe eight or nine, standing near the corner of the sketchy building. Dark spiky hair, serious expression, arms crossed like he was trying to look tougher than the night around him. He was alone. No adults in sight. And something about him; the shape of his eyes, the intensity tugged at the back of your mind like a half-remembered dream.
Your feet stopped before your brain caught up. Heart picking up, you glanced around again. No one else seemed to notice him. The worry bloomed fast and warm in your chest, the same way it did whenever you saw something small and vulnerable out in the big loud world. You shifted on your feet, cheeks already heating with embarrassment. What if he thinks Iâm weird? What if his parents are just inside? But the thought of leaving him here, at night, in this part of town⌠you couldnât.
Swallowing hard, you took a few hesitant steps closer, voice soft and a little shaky. âUm⌠excuse me?â The boy looked up, green eyes sharp and wary. You fidgeted with your bag strap again, avoiding direct eye contact but trying to look kind. âAre⌠are your parents around? Itâs getting late and⌠this doesnât seem like a very safe spot for you to be by yourself.â Your words tumbled out quieter than you wanted, face burning.
He shrugged, expression closing off. âDonât know. Donât care where my old man is or what heâs doing.â Your brow furrowed gently. Old man? Youâd asked about parents â plural. The answer felt⌠off. Sad, almost. But you didnât push. Instead, the worry only grew. âI-I know itâs none of my business,â you continued, voice soft and embarrassed, âbut⌠itâs nighttime and there are weird people sometimes. Could you maybe head home? Or⌠or call someone? I just⌠Iâd feel better if I knew you were safe.â
He stared at you like youâd grown a second head. Irritation flickered across his face, mixed with confusion. âWhy do you care? You donât even know me.â Your fingers twisted the bag strap harder. Heat crawled up your neck. âI know. Iâm sorry. I just⌠I worry. About kids out alone. Itâs probably silly.â You offered a small, shy smile because you were too busy fighting the urge to apologize again. He was quiet for a long moment. Then, with a huff that sounded way too world-weary for his age, he muttered, âFine. Whatever. Iâll go.â
Relief washed over you, soft and warm. Before he could turn away completely, you added quickly, âMy name is Y/N. Um, you can call me if you ever need anything or just⌠be safe, okay?â You told him your name, voice barely above the hum of the streetlights. He paused, glancing back with that same guarded look. For a second you thought he wouldnât say anything. Then, almost reluctantly, he mumbled something that sounded like âMegumiâ... you think, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off.
Megumi. You repeated it softly to yourself, a tiny smile tugging at your lips despite everything. Cute name. You hoped heâd make it home okay.
The encounter left you feeling a little lighter even as you finally stepped toward the tax office door. The worry for the boy lingered, but so did a strange sense of⌠connection? Like the universe had nudged you for a reason. You pushed the door open, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead making you wince slightly. Just get through this, Y/N. Then you can go home.
Hello Everyone!
I am very sorry for the 7th month break on this series. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
âŠË･â Written with love by mintedmomments â･ËâŠ
Find the My Pace masterlist Here
See the pinned post or click the link to check request status Here
Feitan Portor x Fem Reader x Chrollo Lucifer: Shadows in the Rain #1
{ This scenario was requested }
Summary / Info A encounter between Feitan and a calm, highly intelligent fem reader with an Itachi Uchiha-like personality. While on separate missions in Yorknew City, their paths cross at a warehouse.
NOTE: THIS IS PART 1 ! Chrollo is present in Part 2 found HERE !
The rain fell in steady sheets over the derelict industrial district on the outskirts of Yorknew City. Shadows stretched long under flickering streetlights as Feitan Portor moved like a ghost through the alleys. His mission for the Troupe was straightforward: retrieve a rare artifact from a private collectorâs vault, one that supposedly held encrypted data on high-profile auction targets. Simple. Bloody. Efficient.
He didnât expect company.
You emerged from the opposite side of the warehouse at the exact moment he slipped through a broken window. Both of you froze for a fraction of a second. Your posture was perfectly composed, back straight, movements deliberate and economical the mark of someone who had spent years honing their mind and body into weapons. You wore dark, practical clothing that blended into the night, and your sharp, observant eyes assessed him instantly.
Feitanâs grip tightened on his umbrella-turned-weapon. âWrong night for a walk,â he hissed, voice low and dangerous.
You regarded him calmly, rain dripping from your hair. âI could say the same.â Your voice was quiet, smooth, and carried the weight of someone who rarely wasted words. You were here for your own reasons; a personal objective involving the same collector. He held information that could expose a corruption ring tied to your past, something you intended to handle alone and cleanly.
Neither of you moved to attack immediately. The tension crackled between you like static before a storm. Feitan tilted his head, studying you with those sharp, sadistic eyes. You didnât flinch. Most people did. Instead, you simply analyzed him right back calculating his speed, his likely Nen type, the reach of his weapon. It was the same analytical gaze Feitan himself used on prey.
âYouâre not Troupe,â he stated flatly. âBut youâre not civilian either. Who the hell are you?â You offered with no name. âSomeone with business here. The same as you, it seems.â A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips not mocking, but acknowledging the unfortunate coincidence. âWe could fight but it would be loud and unnecessary.â
Feitan clicked his tongue in irritation. He hated when people talked like they were above the violence. Yet something about your calm demeanor, the way your intelligence practically radiated off you, made him pause. You were strong. Not in brute force perhaps, but in presence. âFine,â he muttered. âStay out of my way or I cut you.â
You nodded once, accepting the terms without argument. The two of you moved through the warehouse like shadows dancing around each other never fully trusting, yet never fully opposing. You disabled security systems with precise, elegant Nen threads that wrapped around wires and sensors like invisible spider silk, shutting them down silently. Your Nen ability, âVeil of Insightâ, allowed you to extend thin strands of aura that could analyze and manipulate simple systems or create localized zones of heightened perception, letting you predict movements and spot weaknesses with terrifying accuracy. It wasnât flashy, but it was ruthlessly efficient; perfectly suited to your strategic mind.
Feitan noticed. Of course he did. As you both reached the inner vault, he moved first a blur of speed as he dismantled the guards with brutal efficiency. You followed, taking down the last two with calculated strikes that targeted pressure points and joints, dropping them without unnecessary bloodshed.
When the artifact was secured in Feitanâs hands, he turned to you. His clothes were splattered with blood, a wild grin on his face. âYou fight clean. Too clean.â He stepped closer, voice dropping into that cruel, teasing tone he loved. âWhat, too much of a princess to get your hands properly dirty?â
A faint blush dusted your cheeks barely noticeable in the dim lighting, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. You looked away for half a second, composing yourself with that same serene mask. The rude remark had struck something private, but you gave no other sign. Feitan noticed the blush. His grin widened, sharp and predatory. You met his gaze again, calm as ever. âEfficiency matters more than spectacle. Your methods are effective but to loud and messy.â There was no judgment in your tone just quiet observation. He laughed lowly, a sound like scraping metal. âBoss would like you. Smart mouth. Smart head. Too bad youâre not joining.â You shook your head. âI have my own path.â
For a moment, the rain outside seemed louder. Feitan stared at you, something darker and more interested flickering behind his eyes. He knew you were dangerous not because you could overpower him physically (though you might in a prolonged fight), but because your mind worked on a level that even he found intriguing.
âNext time I see you on a job,â he said, stepping past you toward the exit, âI might not be so nice.â
You watched him go, the blush long faded, your expression once again unreadable. âIâll keep that in mind.â But as the rain swallowed his figure, you allowed yourself the smallest, private thought: He was more interesting than expected.
Here's the second one you requested @purplestrawberrycycle ! I hope you like it.
Please see the pinned post to check request status HERE
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Summary/Info: Chrollo headcanons with a powerful military or police force fem S/O who can match or even overpower him. Sheâs not part of the Phantom Troupe.
Warnings: Mild emotional manipulation, Power imbalance in the relationship, Mentions of canon-typical violence and criminal activity, Fear/anxiety elements, Toxic and complicated relationship dynamics
Youâre one of the few people who can actually match or even overpower Chrollo in a straight fight. Whether itâs elite military special forces training or high-ranking police tactical expertise, your skills, instincts, and combat ability keep him genuinely intrigued. He respects strength, and yours is the kind that makes him watch you with calculated fascination.
Youâre not part of the Phantom Troupe. You have your own duty, your own chain of command, and your own moral code. That divide is constant tension you know heâs dangerous and morally evil, but you canât bring yourself to turn him in. Not yet....
Chrollo has never underestimated you. He treats you as an equal (or a superior threat) from day one, which is rare for him. Thereâs a quiet thrill in knowing you could actually take him down if you ever fully committed to it.
He subtly uses you for information. Small questions about upcoming operations, security protocols, or movement of high-value targets slip into late-night conversations. Heâs never obvious about it â just a soft âTell me more about your dayâ while his fingers trace your shoulder.
Youâre scared of him. Youâve seen glimpses of what heâs truly capable of, and it kind of terrifies you. There are nights you lie awake wondering if today is the day he decides youâre a liability. Chrollo notices this fear of course and if it ever starts to outweigh your love, he would likely disappear from your life without warning because a fearful asset is useless to him. After all, he knows that there is a huge possibility that you can overpower him in a fight.
Despite everything, your love for him is fierce and stubborn. Itâs the main reason the relationship still stands. As long as you keep loving him, he keeps you close. Your feelings are his most effective leash.
Heâs almost gentle with you in private. Soft touches, quiet book readings, and that velvet voice that makes you forget who he really is. But you both know itâs partially calculated keeping you emotionally attached serves his purposes.
Power dynamics are complicated. You can overpower him physically if you push hard enough, but he dominates the relationship in every other way. Heâs always three steps ahead, reading you like one of his precious books.
There are moments you try to confront him about the things heâs done. He never raises his voice. He simply listens, then calmly reminds you how deep youâre already in and how much it would hurt you to lose him now.
He has contingencies if you ever decide to act against him. Youâve caught hints of it files on your unit, backup plans, escape routes... He doesnât hide that heâs prepared. Itâs his way of saying âYou can be replaced, if your usefulness declines.â
The relationship is strong only because of how much you love him. He knows this. He exploits it. And you let him because the alternative is living without the man who makes your heart race even while he terrifies you.
In the end, Chrollo sees you as the perfect balance: a powerful woman who could destroy him, but chooses to love him instead. Heâll keep you for as long as that love benefits him⌠and perhaps, in his own cold way, because heâs grown attached too.
So based on HxH, can you write a oneshot featuring Leorio and a woman reader with public nudity, chastity and humiliation please? In the fic, the two are dating and Leorio suggests that they go on a date while completely naked. The reader agrees but on the condition that Leorio has to have his cock in a chastity cage. Throughout the date, Leorio would try to tease and fluster the reader regardless of how much attention they're bringing to themselves. You can decide on where they'd go and any intimate acts as long as Leorio is kept caged and the relationship is consensual. What do you think?
I think I could do that! I'll put that into my writing list!
Thats alright. Ill make it an x reader if you prefer to imagine yourself in the story.
And harem boys refer to a group of men wearing revealing clothes who provide sexual services to someone in a position of power. The amount vary along with the activities.
But can you please specify which of those kinks youd be comfortable writing about please? Itll help me decide what to ask for.
I'm comfortable with chastity, exhibitionism, gags, drowning, male orgasms, public nudity, consensual gangbangs, hypnosis, duct tape mummification, consensual servitude, dub con, non con, humiliation, torture, abuse, harem boys, and prostitution. I apologize for not being specific in the previous answer!
Thank you for this. Im glad youre of age and i appreciate that i can ask for multiple. đ
Now how do you feel about the following kinks? Male bondage, chastity, exhibitionism, gags, drowning, male orgasms, public nudity, consensual gangbangs, hypnosis, duct tape mummification, consensual servitude, dub con, non con, humiliation, harem boys, prostitution. I'll choose the ones that you're comfortable with.
Also is a reader necessary in the story or can it focus on just the character?
Let's see.... I think I'm really comfortable with the reader being the submissive one; because when I do write these stories and headcanons, i like to imagine I'm y/n (It gives me motivation to make more LOL). Though, I might make something where the male character is sub/forced sub. Concerning the other kinks, I believe I'm comfortable when it comes to writing about it. I have a little question though: I keep hearing and seeing 'harem boys' but I have no idea who they are; can you enlighten me please? đŤŁ
Destroys your things when heâs angry, he acknowledges the fact he does it completely out of anger, yet he makes you earn new things afterwards anyway
Lies and says he hasnât had a vasectomy so he can make you beg for him to pull out (he never does he just likes your begging)
Flips like a switch if your to slow, he doesnât mind grabbing you by the hair to make you go faster, that or tightly gripping you around the wrist to pull you wherever it is he wants you
Makes you try and fight him just so he can beat you up when you fail, you get a âweekâ punch to the stomach and now youâre begging on the floor for him to stop and let you go about your day, that your sorry for whatever you did, but he just yells at you to get up and come at him again unless you want him to start kicking, itâs his way of reminding himself heâs in control
Takes away your pillow so youâll sleep on his arm but then moves in his sleep so your uncomfortable for nothing
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It took months for you to earn the privilege of going out for a walk with him. The first step you took into the shoddy streets was nothing short of glorious (if not a bit overwhelming after your extended stays in the basement). Itâs the best thing youâd had in a while, dodging the footpathâs cracks whilst Feitan trailed behind you, ensuring you didnât get too far.
Of course, being Feitan, he had to come armed. Whilst he could easily take down most opponents single-handedly, he kept his umbrella tucked under his arm, sword safely hidden. An extra-safe precaution on the off chance one of his many Nen-wielding enemies decide to ruin what heâd youâd got.
You practically bounced as much as your weakened calves had allowed, an extra pep in your step from the much-needed vitamin D.
But then it started to rain.
As the first drizzle dampened your hair, your mood dampened with it. The quick switch to an assault of fat droplets only served to worsen your mood. Today? Of all days?
Then you remembered what your âcompanionâ had brought with him. You really didnât want to ask him, of all people, for any favours, but this was so overdue, and up until now had been so perfectâŚ
âFeitan, could I borrow your umbrella?â
He stopped for a moment, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Angry? Amused? Bewildered?
He shook his head. âTch. Just water. Such a baby.â
Something inspired you to push, despite knowing previous consequences for doing so. Maybe it was the fact that your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for fresh air had turned stale within minutes. Maybe youâd gotten too bold with all the buttering up youâd done. Or maybe it was the fact that precipitation was pummeling your face, forcing you to blink every two seconds.
âPlease, Feitan. Please. Itâd mean so much to me.â Your voice honeyed to an excruciating degree.
He narrowed his eyes at you.
âYou can hold it, if youâre afraid of me breaking it. Iâll stay right by your side.â You didnât actually think he was worried youâll break it. But you crossed you fingers that heâd take the second half of the bait.
Wordlessly, he handed it over. So he was letting you take control of it this time? How utterly generous.
He stepped under it with you as you awkwardly opened it up. âDidnât know you were scared of rain. Weaker than I thought.â He stood patiently as you stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded before continuing on your journey without a destination. The water soaking through your socks was irritating, but made you feel utterly alive.
âAnd,â he patted the bottom of umbrellaâs handle, âdonât touch. Unless you want to blow up.â
