府cilfer ࣪• ִֶָ🪽 ࿐

Chrollo

At first he just… watches. No alarm, just quiet curiosity.

He notices you don’t move and it weirdly intrigues him, like, “Ah, such stillness… almost angelic.”

He’ll lowkey compare you to a wax doll in his head, but in a poetic way.

Probably reads by candlelight next to you and occasionally checks if you’re breathing, but doesn’t wake you.

You’re giving him “holy relic resting in a tomb” vibes and he’s not mad at it.

Pakunoda

Paku is worried. Like mama mode ON.

She’ll lean close, listening for your breath, sometimes even brushing your hair back to check.

“...Are you sure you’re okay?? You’re way too still, Y/N.”

Once she realizes it’s just how you sleep, she relaxes but she’ll always sneak in those little checks anyway.

Nobunaga

The first night, he legit thought you died. He was about to scream for Machi.

When you woke up he was like, “DON’T SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, DAMN IT.”

After that, he always pokes you in the arm before bed just to remind himself you’re alive.

Calls you a corpse but affectionately.

Machi

She’s unfazed. Machi’s like, “As long as you’re breathing, who cares?”

Still… she’ll sometimes tie a thread around your wrist so she can feel if you move at all.

Pretends she doesn’t check on you, but she does.

Secretly appreciates how quiet you are- no tossing or turning, no snoring. Peaceful.

Phinks

“Hey, you dead??” is the first thing he says when he notices.

He has to nudge you at least once to be sure, even if it annoys you.

Once he realizes you really just sleep like that, he’ll brag about it: “This one sleeps like they’re in a coffin. Hardcore.”

Finds it funny more than anything.

Shizuku

She straight up thought you were dead and got super confused.

Woke you up before she realized you were breathing.

After you explained, she just nodded like, “Okay. So you’re alive. Got it.”

Sometimes she leans over you just to double check, cause she keeps forgetting you’re breathing.

Shalnark

This man is annoying about it. He’ll lean over and whisper, “Wake up, zombie~”

Takes pictures of how still you are cause it cracks him up.

“You look like you’re in a crime scene photo, Y/N. Adorable.”

But he’s also the type to put his finger under your nose just to confirm you’re breathing.

Feitan

Honestly? He thinks it’s perfect.

Quiet, no movement, no disturbance? Ideal.

He’ll still hover a second to check your pulse, though, because he doesn’t trust it.

Sometimes he mutters, “Creepy… but fine,” before settling in himself.

Franklin

Gentle giant is concerned the first time. He’ll put his hand near your chest to feel your breathing.

Once he realizes it’s just how you sleep, he doesn’t mind.

He actually likes it because you’re so peaceful. He’ll sit nearby on watch and not worry about you fidgeting awake.

Bonolenov

He views it as a kind of sacred stillness. Very ritualistic, very ceremonial.

He’ll hum softly, almost like a lullaby, convinced you’re resting like a warrior in a sacred slumber.

Doesn’t disturb you at all. Actually admires it.

Kortopi

Little guy panics. He shook you once cause he thought you were gone.

After you startled awake, he apologized a thousand times.

Now he just sits awkwardly nearby, clutching something he duplicated, like a nervous comfort habit.

Eventually he gets used to it but will always check your breath before bed.

Uvogin

Oh he hates it at first. He’s like, “Y/N. Y/N. WAKE UP. …Oh, you’re alive? Damn, thought I lost you.”

He cannot resist putting his huge hand on your stomach to feel you breathe.

Once he gets used to it, he laughs about it constantly.

Calls you “Sleeping Beauty” but in a big teasing tone.

Hisoka

He lives for this.

He thinks it’s creepy and therefore delightful.

Will lean over you whispering, “So still~ almost like a little doll…”

He’ll poke your cheek just to see if you’ll twitch.

The silence lowkey makes him wanna mess with you more (like braiding your hair into weird shapes while you’re out cold).

Illumi

Completely unbothered. He sleeps like that too.

He actually thinks it’s the proper way to sleep- silent, unmoving, efficient.

He’ll stare at you in the dark for a long time, quietly approving.

If you ever shift even a little, he’s like, “…Oh. You can move. Fascinating.”

• Honestly ? Chrollo would buy ( steal ) expensive gifts for you to make up for his constant absence, being in the Phantom Troupe is busy and all yk

• Oh and I feel like he'd be the type to send little letters just in case he gets caught up in some mission they did.

• The said note would probably have some cheesy and cliche words like "you're the hope of my life." Or something like that, but he absolutely means everything he says.

• He just makes it extra cheesy to make you giggle or flash a smile in thought of him.

• Now that that's away– I feel like Chrollo would show his affection by his actions and words.

• Actions, he does very small gentleman-like things, like pushing the door for you, holding your hand whenever you descend from some stairs, having a hand on your waist whenever he'd guide you to someplace, and more!

• Words, he pulls up late at night with a damn haiku in his hand, and he holds your hand with his free hand as he reads it aloud to you.

• You find it both cheesy and romantic, but his eyes definitely don't deceive. The man is truly in love with you.

• Since he probably grew up in poverty, Chrollo wants to provide both of you financially enough, even if it means to go through harsh lengths.

• In a scenario where you didn't know your husband is the boss of the Phantom Troupe, Chrollo continues to keep it a secret as that information could truly break one's relationship. Chrollo treats you like a man in love with his wife would, and he is still whipped.

• In a scene where you ARE aware your husband is in the Phantom Troupe, then you're a member yourself who grew up with Chrollo. During "missions" You supported the troupe and Chrollo's personal assistant ( literally ) since he is your husband.

• Let's go to how he proposed, shall we ? :3

• In a scenario where you aren't aware, Chrollo proposes to you in a very elegant and beautiful secluded area. He had a very beautiful ring in his hand and a genuine smile plastered on his face, he spoke up. "It would be an honor for a being like you to be wedded to a mortal like me. Will you make my wish come true, yn?"

• In a scenario where you are aware, he proposed to you during a mission. Pulling you aside to hide you from the many explosions and gun shots, he stands on one knee, looking up to you like you're his god(dess). "Oh, my dear. You are one of a kind, if we are to be bound for eternal life, I shan't complain. However, are you? Willing to be bound in a heartstring with me for eternal life?" ( yes this is a spy x family reference )

• He does a lot of things for you though ! In a scene where you're injured, Chrollo is automatically by your side, soothing your nerves and rubbing your arm.

• Chrollo might not show it through physical touch, but when he does, it's during moments where you and him are truly vulnerable– to feel each other's skin, palm against palm, it's something Chrollo wouldn't naturally do to other people. You, are his sweetheart, so he'd do it within a heartbeat.

• You strummed his heartstrings, and he was tied to your soul, a fit from the universe, he claims.

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Darling is like Makima from Csm

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖As soon as Chrollo's eyes land on you there is a bewitching pull that he feels within his chest, a tantalising mystery that promises a wisdom to be gained at the end. Chrollo has always observed human nature, has seen a person no different than a puppet. A mindset which you seem to share as a person to you is no different than a dog who should obey and stay loyal. You are like the reflection of a mirror and understanding you is discovering himself. Conversations between the two of you may look like nothing more than smalltalk yet in reality both of you constantly attempt to decipher and control the other one. Other spiders feel uncomfortable around you because they sense your attempts to manipulate them, the way your eyes seem to stare deep in their souls to have them submit to you. There is no one you care about, no one you truly love as your loyalty is chained to nothing. It is this one aspect that almost gives Chrollo more humanity than you possess as his loyalty lies with the Phantom Troupe. You long secretly for an equal relationship, something Chrollo cannot give you as he too longs to control. So the two of you engage in this invisible mindgame of who will possess who.

Pariston Hill

As of now, there’s a shattering pressure to be located in your abdomen, as if something is digging up extra space that shouldn’t be made. Any squirms of your unadjusted body are diminished with Chrollo’s palm holding you close by your belly, your back against his chest. You’re warming and sitting on his lap and everything about it is wrong — you are maintained with only your t-shirt on, legs and crotch nude for him to split you on his cock also to be warmed.

He’s waiting — comfortable on the couch, unlike you — anticipating the moment your body will decide to relax and give his hardness more space to leash you from inside, rather than just be knocking against your cervix painfully. Sitting on top of his cock for the first time is certainly stressful enough to show up in how tightly your pussy squeezes him.

“Relax,” he mutters gently into your nape and one kiss is left where your back’s surface begins, although it only sets your nerves on fire more. Even his pants, only unzipped, touching your naked legs is overwhelming. Worse, his hand travels from your belly to be between your spread thighs draped over his, then circles on your clit to work wonders — you do moan with shame. You’re wetter than you’d like to be, but your muscles still work against you. Your legs already hurt from the strain of slightly hovering your body above his lap, too uncomfortable to sit down on him fully, and he’s not helping with his arms around you forcing you to submit to gravity.

“Chrollo, please, I can’t do this,” you whimper out the plea, pushing your palms at the side of his thighs. The irrational side inspires thoughts you should have let him have you, since this is the key to ending what your predicament is about — you refused to sleep with him, so he’s piling up your compliance step by step by letting you get used to the feeling of being filled by him.

Because no, sex with him is not avoidable; of course, he could have simply forced himself on you, but he’s still acting out that damn role of a patient guy, one meeting you halfway. He stole you months ago, he praised and worshiped you for many more prior, it is only right he collects the fruit of his hard labor.

(While the truth is, he’s probably biding his time for fun — obtaining something is not as fulfilling as the chase for it. And you’re worth every pursuit. Not to mention, the nicer you are, the more normal he feels about intimacy with you; believe it or not, he’s not just trying to pretend to be a human, but be one also.)

Things are promising for Chrollo only: you’ve never allowed him to penetrate you before and it’s both humiliating and nerve-racking for it to finally happen. He’s taking what he shouldn’t be taking nor was he allowed to, and you’re rightfully scared. He might not see your negativity if you’re not facing him, though it’s redundant when anything else in your body speaks for itself.

“But you’re doing so well already. Just a bit—”, he announces his slight thrust up, one making you gasp and clench on his cock. “—more.”

He offers you a few extra of those shallow thrusts, until your head is collapsing on his shoulder with extortion, small sweat building up on your forehead already. Your fingers knead his thighs, nearly causing pain. You’re no longer as tense, able to sit down and handle him better, although who knows how long he’ll keep you here, split in half.

Your bodily perception is concentrated in your abdomen, still with your pussy tormented by the expansion of his girth, and it’s still uncomfortable; not even size-related, but coming from the intrusion this experience is not even his fingers given before this game started helped. Your eyes dart around the room only for your brain to fail to disconnect with some object to obsess about.

Whatever tears moist your lashline, he collects with his other hand; they’d be perfect for him to drink from, yet so far they are only a small amount in comparison to the waters you’ll produce once he’ll be able to fuck you properly.

Unwanted by you, there’s another type of ache to be felt — a sweet buildup spread across your tight hole, involuntarily begging for more friction. Need washes itself down your thigh. Your feet finally try to touch the ground and stand up to run away from it, but the arm crossing your front pulls you closer, so rapidly he’s pulling a creak out of the couch. 

“Stay still,” he demands, slightly strained in his voice. Your squirms backfire against him as well — your walls rub around his cock or swallow it more with every jerk a bit too well, he’s nearly as desperate as you for more.

Resigned, you collapse your entire body against his chest, with your palms gripping onto the couch’s edge limply. At least you don’t have to see his interested or horny face. “Chrollo, how long do you plan to keep me like this?” you ask with reasonable anxiety. You may have learned some of his behavior but you are still akin to a novice in navigating his person, incapable of foreseeing more elaborate plots. He can be too unpredictable, and your ideas of him are ambivalent already.

“Well…” He gives up on your clit and rubs your hip instead; it’s meant to be soothing, except you are too paranoid about his hand deciding to wander lower again. “Perhaps a chapter will do. That is, if you behave,” he informs lazily.

So between ten to even fifty novel pages, depending on how over-detailed his picked author can get. “… And how long is it?” you gulp after asking the question carrying too many terrible answers possible.

“Hm, let me see…” Chrollo leans forward with you still on his lap and in his arms, this same angling his cock inside you to be curved and pressed into a spongier spot, that your toes curl from both pain and sensitivity. He picks up the book and leans back onto the couch, beginning to feel the tremble of your form. He keeps it over your head, while the other hand crawls under your clothing and teases your skin.

Every rustle of the page causes your heart to beat faster; he's either lying about the chapter’s length or it’s that long.

“Thirty one.” It’s as if you hear a death sentence verdict.

“Thirty one?! That’s gotta to be like an hour of reading!” you realize frantically. You don’t even count on it being thirty one, in case he decides you did something wrong and need to start another round.

“It seems this writer had an affinity for creating detailed landscapes,” his voice comes to be amused, well-aware what this means for you — warming his dick for an hour or so. “Shall we proceed or do you have any more input to share?” His point is clear: the more you protest, the longer you will be skewered like this.

All you can do is nod the back of your head pathetically into his shoulder. He’s right about that one thing. Running away is futile too.

First five minutes, despite how slow they pass, you manage to get through his ‘foreplay’ surprisingly easily. You're almost led to believe he has turned off his surroundings awareness, this much immersed in his little novel, as he’s simply letting you be. Your eyes trace shapes of the living room’s TV, then the gray-framed windows and its city paintings outside, ending with slight dust gathered on the glass coffee table. The texture of your top is smooth under your fingers. It’s nearly possible for you to shut off your bodily senses and not think of the way his cock is splitting you; besides, the pain has subsided already.

Or so you would have thought. The lesson — or should he say, the preparation for the starting of your sex life — wouldn't be successful if you simply tuned out the feeling of being penetrated by him. “Could you pass me my tea, love?” Chrollo asks with nothing but innocence.

It is just now you notice the teacup of thankfully not steaming tea on the glass furniture. There’s no way in hell for you to grab it and hand it over, not without spilling some on yourself, but it’s especially difficult to do so without experience similar to being gutted alive by his cock. Sitting on it vertically is intense already. “Chrollo… you’re doing this on purpose,” you accuse nervously, simultaneously hoping to annoy him enough for him to grab his drink himself.

“Doing what on purpose, exactly? There’s tea I’d like to drink. You know I drink tea. Considering our current arrangement, you’re the one who needs to grab it for me,” he informs calmly. You hate his logical reasoning, or how unperturbed he is besides a few silent gasps given when you move too much. “Otherwise, I’ll have to start our process over. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You tense up at his clear threat. Losing a few minutes of progress is the least you want, so you acquiesce. You lean your body forward; you are smart enough to try to slightly pull out by raising your hips, but he chases you to it, as the hand that’s not holding his book forces you to sit down. “No cheating.”

You cry out, feeling as his cock’s head presses your insides a bit too deeply; to make things worse, he twitches, as if growing impossibly harder at your noise. You choose to force your body to move with more zeal and lean yourself forward, grabbing that stupid cup with a shaky hand. The worst is not over when you have to lean back against his chest with enough control in your muscles to avoid spilling the earl grey over you both.

You support the teacup’s saucer with your other hand, and slowly drag your body backwards. 

When your back hits his chest again, you let out an exhale as if you just ran a marathon. “Thank you, darling,” he mutters when grabbing the porcelain, before he's pressing a kiss onto your neck from behind you. Even that is capable of creating more mess within your hole, as you already are sensitive all over you; now that kiss gets you wetter, as it was purposely aimed on the edge connecting jaw and neck.

For a sip to be taken, he has to halt reading for a second, dragging on your torture the same. After he’s done and sets the set away thankfully himself, he grabs his pages again; although, this time, he moves to adjust himself right after. His length stirs your juices, you clench on him, drawing out a bleat from you and deep sigh from him. You dig your nails into your thighs, chasing hurt as distraction, and your feet raise to rest on your tiptoes.

“Chrollo—” you tilt your head on his shoulder, able to catch his curious face in your side vision. “How many pages are you in?” you manage to utter through your constrained with emotion throat.

“Ten,” he mutters and glides his free hand’s fingers over your jaw, hungrily observing the unbecoming look on your face. You really are like this thanks to him only, and he could get drunk on your attention. If it were another person, perhaps he’d find their demonstrative ways, full of emotion and vulnerability to be deplorable. With you, he’s eager to unravel you.

“T-ten,” you repeat, barely calculating the portion in your addled head. About one third into the chapter, and you’re already losing your mind.

It’s not that you necessarily want him to grab and finally fuck you, but if you well know he wouldn't let you end things prematurely, you still hope for little something to make things feel less like you're lacking something — being edged from more pleasure. All those tiny, shallow thrusts from tiny movements, and all those stirs were enough to build up arousal proficient in creating chaos begging for scattering.

He’s conscious of that, eager to take advantage. “You know we can skip all of this if only you choose to let me have you fully. It’s inevitable, so…” he proposes, gently-toned and patient to sell you the deal further.

You immediately shake your head, instinctively terrified of the prospect. Your current situation may not be ideal or not-petrifying, yet you're still not ready for the main thing. 

“Are you sure? I can tell you want something, not to mention…” his book is abandoned for him to reach between your messy thighs. “I can feel your misery all over me.” His fingers drag across your slit, smearing your wetness from your hole to your clit, where he stops to rub a few circles.

You shake on his lap, feeling ripples of a pleasure higher than before. Your calves strain as you bump your legs feebly try to raise your hips away from what he’s doing to you.“Please, stop,” you whine, attempting to clench your legs shut and stare ahead. Sadly, he doesn’t stop, not even feeling the pain from your thighs suffocating his bones.

Let him get you relief. Don’t let him get what he wants. Let him help you. Don’t let him win—

He chuckles: a stranger on the street would find it pleasant-sounding, but you know better. “I’m not so sure about your answer, so I'll ask once more — should we end this and move to better things, or should I keep reading?” his voice is pathologically calm.

“I…” you hesitate. That’s when he offers you a first, big thrust — a sample of what you can receive should you only ask. You try to get away from his lap again and again does he shove you closer to him. You scratch his pants and he thrusts into you again as punishment, you have no choice but to stop fighting.

“Yes?” he prods with amusement when you obey.

“Please, just…” you don’t realize you're opting for grinding your hips back at him, until a groan passing his lips lets you on the knowledge: you freeze.

“You have to use or words. I cannot let a misunderstanding happen, can I?” His thumb taps your clit and you go insane.

It’s not much love and desire speaking when you turn your head and suddenly kiss him, holding onto his bicep, if merely a desperation to let go of your gathered emotional tension. Regardless, your behavior is so unusual that even he appears surprised at first.

Chrollo is no fool to deny himself of your lips nonetheless. He grabs your throat to angle your head, kisses you for a few heated moments, then shoves his tongue into your mouth so lovely you get dizzy spells. When the kiss ends with your bruised lips, he puts his forehead against yours. 

“Should I read your kiss as your ultimate decision?” He stares you into the eye, his breath grazing your skin and obstructing your clarity further. The hand that hasn’t left your throat rubs it softly, sweetly docile.

He’s hopeful, as his eyes say that. It’s not a pretty sight, only speaking of what he wants to do to you. How this is about further obtaining you, tying you to him, going as far as inspecting his ‘goods’ as well.

It’s scary, dehumanizing, and absurd. You’re reminded of what he’s truly after in that just one gaze. “N-no. I don’t agree,” you answer instantly.

Chrollo sighs with tad disappointment, only to smile with curiosity. Your decision is still beneficial for him. “Fine then. I suppose we should wrap things up and start over tomorrow?”

A mortifying silence follows. “What?” you take a lot of time to ask with shock. 

“I’m not sure if you’re in the right shape to continue. We should try again later,” this mocking is said with a chaste kiss on your cheek, one not shutting your bemused mouth. 

All of your progress just went to waste, all because you got impatient. Although, it’s not as if he had ever said cockwarminghim will be an event organized just once. In any case, he’s a winner — one that’ll be happy with having you in any form.

“Don't cry.” He murmurs bluntly and wipes your tears of frustration appearing seconds later. “You did well for your first time,” it’s almost a praise.

When he pulls out, you can feel the lingering throb, your hole pulsing desperately for more. Your legs are weak when he helps you stand up, he’s right there to seize your waist. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late.” Maybe if you kiss him goodnight he’ll provide relief on his fingers, no matter you’re selling another part of yourself to him for a mere temporary distraction from your shitty hostage situation.

Chrollo’s gaze is a bottomless void, and he holds it on you while he works his hips. He drags his cock out of you until just the head is nestled in your slick, swollen folds, making your cunt clench and twitch around him like a dying fish. Then he drives back in, a single, brutal slide that bottoms out deep inside you, stealing your breath and making his pubic bone crack against yours. 

His expression unreadable as he thrusts into you. Slow and deep. Sliding in and out of your fluttering pussy with a pace that has your toes curling and back arching off the ground with every roll of his hips. 

His rhythm suddenly falters as he buries himself to the hilt, hips flush against yours as he holds the position. Not moving anymore. The tip of his cock brushes your cervix, making you cry out and claw at his back. He doesn’t even flinch, not even when your nails scratch deep, bloody gouges down his spine. 

“Do you remember,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, his voice sounding oddly composed for the current situation. “When you told me you felt trapped in your old life?

Conversation? Right now? Really? Fuck that. That’s literally the last thing on your mind right now. You just want him to move again, to keep going, to put an end to this throbbing ache and let you come. And you’ll say or do just about anything to make that happen.

Your response tumbles out as a high-pitched, moaned yes—pathetic, desperate, and so fucking needy it embarasses you even as it spills from your lips. You agree way too fast, blurting out whatever the hell you think he wants to hear, barely processing his words at all. Because right now, you’re drowning in the fact that he’s gone completely still inside you, and you absolutely hate it. You were so fucking close and he just stopped. 

The ache throbs deep in your core, hot, insistent, and borderline unbearable, clenching around his unmoving cock. Sweat glistens on your skin, trickling down your spine as your hips twitch and buck uselessly against his in frantic, wild desperation—chasing any scrap of friction, anything at all that might ease the burning need ripping through your body. 

But it’s all so utterly futile. Your frenzied grinding provides no relief or satisfaction whatsoever—not even a hint—only amplifying your frustration and desperation, leaving you even more wrecked than before. 

Though your pitiful actions accomplish absolutely nothing for you—hell, they actually just make things worse—they do, however, seem to satisfy Chrollo, who’s enjoying every second of this. Internally, of course. He’s not exactly an open book. Everything is meticulously controlled and hidden beneath an expression that doesn’t reveal anything he doesn’t intend to. Not like you’d be able to tell, anyway—at least, not with you being so deeply engrossed in your current dilemma, which has totally crippled your ability to form even a single, coherent or rational thought. 

Chrollo peers down at you from above, watching you with an expression that’s almost teasing. Eyes half-lidded. Head tilted to the side. Lips quirked to the side. Like he’s studying a particularly fascinating passage in one of his books, not buried balls-deep inside you.

“Hm?” He hums softly, low and encouraging. That single hum laced with just enough insistence to make it clear he won’t accept your response as a proper answer to his question. As if your embarrassingly whiny and borderline incoherent moan wasn’t quite articulate enough for him. 

“What was that?” He prompts gently, almost like he’s gently encouraging a student to elaborate on a half-formed idea. It’s not threatening, demanding, mocking, or anything else like that—it’s just a soft, patient, composed nudge. A gentle encouragement or push in the right direction. Subtly trying to coax a reaction out of you. 

“I didn’t quite catch it.” There’s a slight undertone of mock innocence in his voice—indistinct and hardly noticeable, virtually impossible to detect. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Much to your frustration and distress, Chrollo still hasn’t moved. Not one bit. His movements remain on pause. He’s still buried all the way inside your drenched pussy, which hasn’t stopped clenching and fluttering around him, not even once—something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Chrollo, and interestingly enough, he finds himself mildly fascinated by it. You’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that for a brief moment, he actually worries you might be squeezing him hard enough to cut off his blood flow and circulation. 

The thought is so absurd and downright laughable—not to mention, literally impossible—that Chrollo finds himself genuinely and uncharacteristically taken aback that his own mind had even entertained a notion like that. He quickly dismisses the thought entirely, categorizing it as nothing more than a fleeting and rare lapse in his otherwise impeccable composure. 

On the other hand. You are literal seconds away from bursting into tears, genuinely thinking this torment would never end and you’d be left to suffer forever, when you suddenly notice a slight change in Chrollo’s body from where it hovers above you. 

The arms that have been pinning and caging you in move as he adjusts their placement, his palms sliding along the floor as his stance widens, almost like he’s bracing himself for what's coming next. The hands that have been resting flat and relaxed on either side of your head twitch faintly, just once, as his fingers shift and adjust their hold on the wrinkled sheets beneath you. Clenching and curling even tighter around the loose fabric—to get a better hold. The muscles in his back tense and flex beneath your palms, his body stabilizing itself. 

Your fucked-out brain barely registers any of this—his stance widening, his body bracing, his hold changing, his grip tightening. They’re all minor and insignificant adjustments that you normally, in any other circumstance, wouldn’t even notice or think twice about—let alone right now, given your current state of mind. 

They all seem normal—just the natural, unconscious, and involuntary movements and functionings of the body—and don’t necessarily have to mean or indicate anything at all. But for some reason, they seem to trigger something in you. Something that manages to momentarily break through the sex-induced haze that’s completely surrounded and engulfed your mind. Every single nerve in your body suddenly goes off all at once, lighting up and firing-off signals that make your senses explode with a newfound alertness and warning. Your primal instincts are literally screaming at you. Danger, danger, danger!  

Chrollo grants you with something that your overstimulated mind misinterprets as mercy—he finally starts to move once again. It’s not actually a mercy at all, not in the slightest sense, it’s actually the furthest thing from that. But you don’t know that, and it still sparks a tiny flicker of hope in you all the same.

He indulges in the slightest movement ever—torturing you, really, with never quite giving you what you really need—and pulls back by a fraction. An inch at most. No more than that. Slow enough that you feel every ridge and vein dragging along your slick, fluttering insides as he retreats, and gentle enough that your pussy instinctively tries to suck him back in, desperate and greedy. Like you’re terrified he’ll pull out completely. 

You whimper, hips jerking up instinctively, chasing that loss. He doesn't let you suffer for too long. He relents by a fraction and pulls back another teasing inch, causing his hips to lift away from yours and the pain in your cervix to ease marginally as the head of his cock finally stops pressing against it. 

He’s barely even moved—basically still bottomed-out inside you—but even the slightest sensation sends your trembling, deprived body into overdrive. 

The gnawing, almost unbearable emptiness inside you—both literal and figurative—doesn’t last long, because Chrollo’s already sliding right back in again, filling the space completely as he rocks into you with a shallow, but absolutely brutal thrust of his hips. It’s a sharp and sudden motion that drives him all the way back inside you, punching the air from your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. He slams into you with a force that somehow manages to shove him even deeper than before. 

The force of his thrust has you sliding backwards against the floor, your body jolting up several inches from where you were pinned beneath him. You would’ve slipped right out from under him if he didn’t grab hold of your hips and catch you, his fingers digging in as he drags you back down onto him, holding you firmer now. 

Chrollo stays buried, unmoving once again, drawing out the fullness until it’s agonizing, your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, thighs quaking around him while slick heat leaks down your ass, pooling on the floor in a messy puddle. He savours it by leaning his weight forward, pushing impossibly deeper until his cock is lodged so far inside you feel it in your fucking throat, grinding slow circles with his hips that mash his pelvis against your clit in torturous, unrelenting pressure.

He draws out the torment, rocking his hips in shallow, infuriating nudges—barely pulling out before sinking back in, over and over, each micro-thrust a wet, squelching glide that rubs his cockhead against that spongy spot inside you without ever building momentum.

He’s giving you the barest hint of relief without actually giving you any real satisfaction. It’s a bare minimum that does absolutely nothing for you. It’s just enough for you to feel just a little bit of something—to soothe the throbbing ache between your thighs by a hair and keep you exactly where he wants you to be—but not enough to give you what you really need. 

It keeps your hopes from dwindling completely. Because if you lose all sense of hope, it would only create more of a hassle for him. He’d prefer to avoid any with unnecessary complications. If giving you scraps of affection saves him some trouble in the long run, so be it.  

But most importantly, the chances of him accidentally overwhelming you or breaking a boundary—or God forbid, turning you off—are significantly lower when he’s not teasing you to the point of fucking tears. And he knows, he came very close to doing just that. So he immediately backed off. He won’t run the risk of ruining all the work he’s put into you over the last couple months by pushing you too far. It’d waste his time and effort. 

“Well? Speak up,” Chrollo prods softly, again. He shifts just a fraction again, a deliberate flex of his pelvis that presses his cock deeper, grinding the base against your swollen clit in a slow circle that sends a fresh jolt of relief sparking through your core, only to yank it away by holding still again, leaving you with the maddening fullness and nothing else. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes I remember!” You finally blurt out. 

Chrollo’s lips curve into a knowing, ironic smirk against your throat—smug and laced with something darkly amused—seemingly pleased by your answer. Finally. The edge to it sends a brief flicker of unease through your haze of need. It’s not a kind smile. You catch the faint pull of it on your skin, warm and subtly mocking, as if he’s laughing at some private joke you’re not in on.

“And look at you now,” he continues, rewarding your response with an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, his breath ragged as his tongue traces a hot, wet stripe over your pulse. Finally, he resumes his movements once again. His hips snap forward, picking up pace—slamming into you even harder and faster than before. Not slow and deep anymore, but rough and brutal, each thrust jolting through you. “So free.” 

Everyone in your family adores Pariston, he’s nothing short of saccharine and many in your hometown consider you to be the most perfect couple in existence. He pays for all of your wants and needs (you’d think coming from a wealthy family would have made him more stuck up, but he’s fairly kind and generous) and never complains when you talk of your issues or rant about the most minuscule subjects. Hell, he even interjects to add his opinion and reassure you of your feelings. Pariston was ever so perfect; you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. Your father had disapproved of almost every boy you’ve brought by the house in high school; except for Pariston. He wooed your parents, sweeping them off their feet just like he did you. You’ve spent the last six years with him and it’s been nothing short of blissful.

A bit redundant and routinely, but that’s good. It’s a healthy relationship. Years later and you still wonder how you caught the eye of the richest golf player in all of your school. He had many options, not to say you were any less than them, but Pariston is completely head over heels for you, a little drama nerd who played Wendy in the school's rendition of Peter Pan.

Your mother always insisted that you head off to college, but once in a drunken state, admitted “you could drop out, Pariston would take care of ya, sweetie!” With a burst of giggles. She was correct, obviously, Pariston would give you whatever you want the moment you want it. It’s not something you’d ever abuse from him though, you still follow your own morals (loosely, but they’re still present). Pariston Hill is a marvelous, good man and you know it. You’d be content with having his children one day too, but not for another ten years (he immediately agreed, you’ve never so much as thought of taking off a condom before).

Pariston is perfect for you and would give you the perfect life; so why is it that you can’t help the brief looks you give to the black haired boy each morning in the dining area? His name is Chrollo, he’s in your advanced literature and creative writing class, and fuck, you hope the chemistry is one sided. That’s all it is: chemistry, your hormones raging for something different, something unique. Every time he looks at you with his pretty, grey eyes you felt an electric shock jolt throughout your heart and brain and- the last ones too shameful to admit.

But you love your boyfriend, he’s a good man and he takes care of you when you need it.

But everytime you close your eyes now… you think of Chrollo. Again, it’s only chemistry, but there’s nothing in the world you could do about it. Much less now as you head off to meet the devil himself.

Professor Atkins had chosen your partners for the upcoming project. Something about co-writing a horror novel and switching who writes every ten minutes or whatever, you certainly don’t remember. Your head was too busy malfunctioning when he declared you as Chrollo’s partner. You were on your way to one of the private rooms by the food court.

Pariston is at a fraternity meeting with his brothers right now, discussing which charities they should fundraise for while you double checked your outfit to look spotless for another man.

‘It’s not wrong,’ you assure yourself, ‘it’s… just that first impressions are important.’ You think as you evenly apply your Dior lip glow oil (that your sweetheart bought for you) on your lips. You arrive 10 minutes early to the study room, and feel anxiety wear at your gut. You put the compact mirror and makeup away, what if you gave off a shallow impression? From what you could tell, Chrollo was highly intelligent, but laid back. You swear he smells like marijuana in class sometimes, but a pothead couldn’t be so eloquent the way Chrollo is. His friend group has a lot of personality in it too. You’re quite familiar with Pakunoda as you’ve had a few general classes with the sweet girl. You’ve gone to dinner and events together on a few occasions but you’ve never crossed friend groups with her.

“Sorry I’m late, my roommate accidentally set our stove on fire even though I insisted on cooking tonight.” Chrollo pants as he closes the door behind him. You giggle at his current state; he’s wearing a black topcoat with a black turtleneck and- you guessed it, black slacks and shoes. Even the bandana wrapped around his forehead is obsidian, but it seems to be made out of some silky fabric. If he’s trying to save himself from the cold, that bandana certainly won’t do it.

This isn’t his usual attire, but you won’t point that out. You typically see him in band shirts and ripped jeans with accessories. Whether it be a hat, scarf, matching coats, or something made out of leather, he rarely dresses so… blandly. It kinda kills it for you, thank god. Maybe you were simply attached to the edge he has, maybe it’s gone now that he’s dressed like a common office worker.

“It’s alright, um, I’m curious though, how did that happen?” You ask, containing your laughter. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the chair across from you, pulling it out and finally sitting down. His snowy white skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. And his eyebrows… though hidden, you can tell he waxes them.

“I just got back from an interview and I walked in on him trying to put out a grease fire with water, the moment I told Phinks to stop he poured it and made it much worse!” Chrollo rolls his eyes. Now that he’s so close to you, you notice the stench of smoke in the air. “I was able to put it out on my own but the landlord won’t be pleased about this…” he sighs, a dreamy smile on his face that you stare at just a bit too long for comfort. “But enough about me! How’s your day been?” He asks, pulling out an old laptop and a few notes from class.

“Pretty good, my boyfriend took me out for breakfast before classes and we took a stroll around the uni after.” You regretfully inform him, annoyed by the mention of Pariston right now.

It’s all chemistry, nothing else. This is your reality, and blowing a perfect future for a guy you don’t know isn’t rational.

“Pariston, right? I think I’ve seen you with him a few times, plus he’s been in a few of my classes over the years.” There is a lot you could have taken from his words, but the only thing that runs through your head is “I think I’ve seen you…” implying that Chrollo has in fact, noticed you besides glances. You want to squeal at the thought, but now isn’t the time to feed into your juvenile crush on him.

‘Nor ever,’ rings a voice in your head, reminding you of the reality you live in. ‘He’s not interested, he’s seen you with your boyfriend.’

“Yeah, that’s him,” you smile, briefly looking down in disappointment. You don’t miss the smirk on his face either, but he does that a lot anyway- God you’re a total creep for noticing that.

“You guys make a lovely couple. Now, do you have the plot that Dr. Atkins gave to us? I can go first if you’d like…”

-

Chrollo’s mind is interesting. The original prompt given to you by your professor was about a child being kidnapped and taken to a log cabin for ransom. In his first ten minutes of writing, he describes how the child comes from a wealthy family and he’d be tied up in the basement while his captor spends the day out. So you went off that and added that the sheriff was the one who kidnapped him, hence why he was always gone in the day. He enjoyed it, but tweaked it just a bit. The mother of the child was in on it, and she wanted the ransom to run off with the sheriff, the man she truly loved.

“Do you think a mother would do that to her child?” He asks you randomly as he passes his laptop over to you. You falter for a moment before grabbing it, pondering his question.

“Selfish desires can drive anyone to do anything if they lack self restraint.” You shrug, preparing yourself to write the next section. Maybe they’d get away with it, should they leave the child behind? Does the mother even love the child enough? Clearly not if she’s willing to use him for a ransom, maybe they’ll leave him behind as well. Her child would only be a reminder of her past with another man, you certainly wouldn’t want that if you were selfish enough to follow in her path.

“I agree with you,” Chrollo states, staring intently at you. The electric shocks run throughout your body as he refuses to look anywhere else in the room. You aren’t looking back by any means, but you know his eyes never leave you. Not once.

-

You finished the project within an hour, which should give you plenty of time to get ready for your date tonight. Pariston insisted on taking you to La Maison, his favorite restaurant that only serves the richest clients in town. Not that it was ever an issue for him, but it personally isn’t your favorite. The food portions sucked, you always had to wear a dress inside, and the waiters were a bit rude for your taste.

“I enjoyed writing with you, is literature your major as well?” Chrollo draws you out of your thoughts, and you smile at him.

“Yeah! Hopefully I’ll get my masters in the next few years.” You beam, hoping he’d ask you more.

Chrollo doesn’t, he begins to pack up his belongings and you accept your fate. As you pack up your own things your phone starts to ring, it’s Pariston. A picture of him smiling while holding two bunnies pops up on your phone and you immediately answer.

“My sweetheart! I fear I have to cancel tonight’s dinner, it’ll be such a hassle to switch around the reservation but I’ll do it. The brothers insist we head down to the charity center to discuss our fundraising event and I don’t think I’ll be home until late. You understand, right sweetie?” You could practically hear him frowning as your own face drops momentarily.

“It’s fine, I understand. It’s no biggie, just tell me when we can reschedule!” You respond as chrollo gives you a glance.

“Fantastic, my sweetheart! I’m sorry for the delay, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Pariston hangs up, leaving you a bit disappointed. He’s a busy man, you can’t expect all of his attention on you. Hell, you’ve grown accustomed to it since high school. Pariston always makes it up with the amount of love he does give you while together, so you shouldn’t complain about your situation.

“Everything alright?” Chrollo asks, now behind you. He’s very quick, and silent too.

“Yeah! I’m fine,” you insist, “Pariston had to cancel our date tonight.” You explain, standing up from your chair as you make your way to the door. “It was nice writing with you, I hope we do more projects together!” You beam at him.

“Wait! Would you like to go grab some coffee at the café downstairs? My treat, I could always use a new friend.” Chrollo asks as he stands up as well. His sentiment was sweet, but you couldn’t deny the ache that follows with it. A friend, that’s all you’ll ever be to him. Nothing more or less.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

-

“You should have told me you don’t like coffee,” Chrollo frowns as you take small sips of your Chai Latte. “I know a cafe with better teas on the other side of campus.” He pouts, sipping on his own black coffee (you wanted to gag when you heard him order that monstrosity).

“Are you talking about Ponzu’s?” You ask. “She has my favorites. But this one’s alright, it’s convenient anyway.” You assure, staring at the poison in his hands.

“You act as if my cup personally slaughtered your family.” Chrollo teases, noting the look of disgust you can’t bring yourself to hide.

“I drank black coffee once- well, forced myself to- after pulling an all nighter. I felt anxiety for two days straight and I thought I was gonna have a stroke.” You recall, still not looking away from the cup he so generously sipped. “Oh my god, you drink it as if it’s water from the fountain of youth.” You remark in disbelief. He lets out a sigh of satisfaction as if to get the point across to you.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he smirks.

“And I have no intentions of acquiring it anytime soon.” You deadpan, sipping your flavored ice chai.

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you feeling better?” Chrollo changes the subject, petrifying you for a moment. You hope you didn’t make it too obvious that you were disappointed by your cancelled date, it’s not like he could do anything about it anyway.

“Yeah, it’s fine! Pariston has to cancel a lot of our dates.” You admit, taking another drink of your chai. “I’m used to it, and I wasn’t too excited for dinner either. It’s his favorite, not mine.” You giggle. His eyebrows furrow and you recognize how negative you just sounded about your own lover! How rude of you! “He always makes up for it though! I’m not complaining.” You quickly add, hoping it doesn’t come off as ungrateful.

“If you don’t mind my two cents, I think he should stick to his biggest commitment of them all, but what do I know? It’s not like I have a girlfriend to treat.” Chrollo laughs, “he must be doing something right if it’s still working out.”

And that’s the problem, Pariston does everything right. Not a single wrong thing with him, he’s the ideal partner and here you are daydreaming about a nerdy punk you’ve only spoken to for a day. He’s a perfect man who would give you the perfect life that other girls would kill for, you can’t complain.

“Anyway, are you hungry? Since you’re not going out, I know this amazing Chinese place across town if you’re down-” you cut him off excitedly.

“Wok ‘n Roll?” You beam at him as he nods.

“That’s the one! They practically know me by name now. They took a picture of my friend, Uvogin and hung it on the wall for finishing 10 plates in one sitting. The waiter couldn’t bring them out fast enough so he insisted on raw beef by the last three plates.” Chrollo reminisces with a half smile on his face.

“Your friends sound interesting, eating raw beef and starting grease fires.” You giggle at the thought. Pakunoda seems pretty normal compared to the others, and so does Chrollo.

“They have a lot of personality, it’s entertaining. Do you need a ride there?” He asks as he takes his final drink of bitter, disgusting, black coffee.

“No, I’ll meet you there. I don’t wanna leave my car on campus.”

“Sounds good, I’m gonna drop by my place real quick, I wanna get in something more comfortable.”

-

And comfortable chrollo looks. You freshen up your lip gloss and makeup imperfections while you wait for him in the parking lot. He knocks on your door, surprising you (did he know it was your car? Or did he guess?) and you look up to see him in his usual attire. A Machine Girl shirt with a baggy flannel and ripped jeans. His bandana is different too, black with red designs around it.

God dammit, all of his appeal is still there, unfortunately. You can feel your face heat up and you thank the universe for concealer.

You turn off your car and exit, immediately taking in his cologne. It’s sandalwood for sure, with some jasmine undertones. Not overwhelmingly masculine in the most irritating ways; it suits him.

“Evening, apologies for making you wait.” Chrollo greets, leaning against the car next to you. It was a 1970 Buick Electra, and you’re not a car girl but it’s definitely doing something for you (or to you, for that matter). Chrollo closes the door to your car before you could do it yourself.

“I didn’t mind, I like your shirt by the way.” You compliment. “Machine Girl’s one of my faves.” His eyes widen momentarily in surprise.

“Oh god, I rarely meet people that know of them. What’s your favorite song?” He practically rushes out as you walk with him towards the entrance.

“Scroll of Sorrow, Out by 16 but dead on the scene, and hmm… sue me for being a basic fan, but mg1.” You shrug. Chrollo opens the heavy doors to the restaurant for you and you let out a quick ‘thank you,’

“Mg1 is overrated for a good reason, it’s one of my favorites too. I think I like devil speak and hidden power the most though. Are you going to one of their shows? They’re on tour and I bought my ticket for York New.” Chrollo babbles on. The lady at the front (your eyes look over to see the picture of Chrollo’s friend shaking hands with one of the chefs) motions for you to follow her.

“Nah, none of my friends like ‘em and I’m a bit skeptical about going on my own.” You reply with notes of embarrassment in your tone.

“Come with me! I have an extra ticket, and I was gonna force my best friend Shalnark to go but he’ll be relieved to get to stay home.” Chrollo insists as you sit down across from him.

Jesus Christ, you couldn’t have picked a worst time to be in a perfect relationship.

-

You finished eating a while ago, but you’re sure you’ve been speaking to Chrollo for much longer than that. Turns out you have a lot in common; his music range is just like yours, you both enjoy obscure foreign movies, comedy shows, manga, and he was also in theatre!

“I starred in Angels in Saherta as a freshman, if that gives you any idea as to how passionate I am about acting.” He laughs, and even if it was a subtle brag you enjoy it. “That’s my absolute favorite! It’s a real tear-jerker, I cried for days after watching it for the first time. The AIDS epidemic truly was a travesty, but I’m glad audiences have a good way of educating themselves on it, even if it’s just a play.” You reply. “I was Wendy in our Peter Pan show, and Mina in our production of Dracula. That one was my favorite show we did.” You remember fondly. You enjoyed twirling around in your dress backstage.

“What a range! Not particularly fond of Peter Pan, but Dracula must have been a wonderful performance. Drama class was where I met most of my friends actually, it’s why I’m majoring in literature. I want to become a writer one day and produce my own plays.” Chrollo expresses. You could see a gleam in his eye that’s bereft of most people by the time they reach your age. You’re glad he still has it, that passion and desire for something he wants.

“You should meet them some day, we’re having a hang out tonight if you’re interested. Sorry, I’ve probably disorganized your schedule for the night.” He says sheepishly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” He adds, looking away momentarily.

Pariston is still busy anyway, and he does want you to make more friends…

“No I’d love to! I wanna meet the infamous Uvogin sooo bad.” You joke. Chrollo beams at you with happiness and unadulterated joy. He doesn’t smile often, but you relish in the comfort of knowing you have that effect on him.

You briefly look down to your phone, noticing a few text messages from Pariston.

“Party at the house if you’d like to join! Gin brought a keg. It’s getting crazy out here.”

“Did you eat by the way? I’ll uber you whatever you want if not ^.^”

You’ll reply when you’re back in your car. You never quite enjoyed parties with his frat brothers, or them in general. Yes they do charitable work, yes they have basic human decency, yes Gin at best is just annoying as fuck. It doesn’t matter to you though, a lot of them are snobbier than most humans you’ve ever met and you absolutely despise how insufferable they behave while intoxicated.

“Can I ask you something real quick?” Chrollo asks, pulling out his wallet to leave a hefty tip. You nod, putting your phone back into your purse. “Does Pariston get jealous when you hang out with guys?” He says,

“Pariston isn’t like that, he trusts me and I frankly don’t care if he’s around girls either.” You shrug, not thinking much of it. “I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of guy friends to begin with, so it’s never been a concern.” You were too embarrassed to admit that you didn’t have any male friends, and only a handful of girl friends here. You didn’t stand out much in high school besides the plays you were in, and your friend group dispersed after going to college. Well, not necessarily, they all went to your first choice while you followed Pariston to Zaban University. You typically socialize around Pariston’s friends too, and they’re hardly your own.

“That’s cute, trust is vital in a relationship. I’m sure he won’t mind then.” Chrollo smirks, standing up. “I’ll pay the bill, come on.” He instructs, and you follow behind him.

-

Chrollo rents a three bedroom house with his friend Phinks, their other friend Uvogin graduated college the year before and moved out to go back to York New. As you step inside the house, you notice it’s much more cleanly than you’d expect for two men. It’s a simple one story with a large living room and decent sized kitchen. You notice three girls and three guys on the large sectional couch, drinking different types of beers and liquors. Chrollo greets you as you come in.

“This is the girl I was telling you guys about,” Chrollo explains over the music as he says your name to them. You notice a coy look from some of the men, but you smile at Pakunoda first and foremost.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you around in a while.” She waves her hand at you and you wave back. “She’s such a dear, be nice.” Pakunoda practically growls at two blonde men who chuckle at her threat.

“I’m sure she is,” the blonde with the slick backed hair remarks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sorry about Phinks, he gets drunk easily. Biggest lightweight in the room.” Chrollo rolls his eyes. He motions for you to follow him and you do. You sit next to him on the edge of the couch.

“Hey! Fuck you man, just for that I’ll drink more than any of you dickwads in this room!” Phinks yells as he grabs onto his beer can, chugging it all down.

“Aren’t you the guy that almost burnt down the kitchen?” You blurt out, he crushes the can against his forehead and stands, making his way to the kitchen.

“Keyword: almost. I could have handled it.” He replies, staggering around the room.

“No you couldn’t!” At least four of them yell back at Phinks. You giggle as he glares at them.

“Damn haters can’t handle me, yall can grab your own beers!” He yells from the kitchen.

“I’m Shizuku by the way.” A girl with glasses says from across the couch.

“Machi.” The pink haired one replies. She’s more curt than the others.

“I’m Nobunaga, and that’s Shalnark.” A long haired man introduces, pointing to the blond with the bowl cut.

“Aw, Uvogin isn’t here? He’s quite famous from what I’ve heard through the grapevine.” You frown. A few of them chuckle and Nobunaga replies before anyone else can.

“That’s my best friend! He’ll be here soon, he’s driving in from York New actually. Which restaurant did you take her to? He has multiple pictures hung up in a lot of ‘em. The man eats as if he’ll never see another plate again… it’s vicious.” Nobunaga describes with a look of admiration on his face.

“Wok’n Roll, the time he ate the raw beef.” You answer.

“That’s a fucking classic. The chef cried when he met Uvogin.” Shalnark chimes in, cracking open another beer can for himself.

“Do you drink?” Pakunoda suddenly asks you. “We have beer, a few wine bottles, and Tequila.”

Pariston doesn’t like when you drink without him. You’ve drank a handful of times in your life, and you chose to sip on your cups before throwing them down the drain due to the taste. At most, he’d chastise you for drinking without him…Which is a bit hypocritical since you’re positive he’s drinking with his frat brothers right now.

“I’m down for tequila.” You reply. You’ll worry about getting home later, right now you’d have fun and let loose for once.

-

“I just think- you’re sooooo pretty.” You slur out to Pakunoda. “And your hair Machi! It looks soooo soft and sooo edible, and Shizuku! I’ll personally give your hairstylist a raise for cutting your hair so perfectly. Oh my god I’m surrounded by beautiful women!” You cover your mouth in realization. The girls giggle at your compliments whilst Chrollo pours more shots for everyone. You’re too drunk to notice how he stares at you.

“Fuck your boyfriend, I’m taking you for myself.” Paku winks at you, making your cheeks burn with the passion of a thousand suns.

“Yeah! Fuck my boyfriend! You’re soooo much prettier and you make a better blonde!!” You giggle uncontrollably.

“She’s definitely had enough,” Machi says, but even she can’t hold in a laugh as you poorly attempt to grab another glass from Chrollo’s strong hands.

“I think she had enough when Uvogin brought out the weed.” Shizuku comments, sipping her glass of wine.

Wine sounds lovely, so sweet… and you think they have Rosé too!

“Oh my god,” you deadpan, “where’s my bestie Uvogin? Can I take a picture with him too? Or get his autograph?” You turn your head rapidly as you search for the 6’7” tall man. You were quite tipsy when he first entered the house and you gasped in awe at how tall he was. He took it as a compliment, of course, but you earned a few laughs from the group when you asked him about his experiences at the local restaurants. “Bestie!!!” You scream across the house, standing on the dining table. “You’re too tall to hideee!!” You say in a singing tone.

“They’re smoking outside, but I really think you should slow down. What is this, the first time you’ve gotten faded?” Machi voices, you hope you don’t annoy her but you’ve come to realize that’s her usual tone.

“Yes!” You blurt out. “Okay soooo, Pariston doesn’t usually let me get drunk, just tipsy at best. And he’s suuuuuper against marijuana so I’ve never done that either.” You giggle. The girls (and Chrollo) look at you with confusion in their eyes.

“You need his permission to have fun?” Chrollo comments, slamming down another shot glass. He must have such a high tolerance, he barely looks affected by anything.

“He’s sooo totally self aware of everyyyything he does because he doesn’t want a negative image or whatever, that falls onto me too, which is sooo lame! He scolded me once for getting too excited at a zoo, like, oh my god there’s a fucking penguin in front of me and you expect me to not get excited!?” You groan, feeling a bit dizzy for your own comfort. More alcohol would fix it! “Oo! More shots!” You suddenly yell out.

“I think you should lay down for a bit, if this is your first time getting fucked up you should stop soon.” Machi warns as the others nod or agree.

She’s like a stern mother, it’s cute.

“Here, you can come lay down in my room for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch anyway.” Chrollo brings up, standing from his chair as he gently grabs ahold of your hand.

His hands are rough but sooo warm. Pariston’s hands feel like a 5 year old girl’s.. You giggle at the thought.

“Have fun you two!” Pakunoda’s voice rings out and you swear you hear them laugh some more as Chrollo takes you down till the end of the hallway.

“You think he’s finally gonna go for it?” Machi asks the others, smirking.

“I fucking hope so, I’m tired of watching him yearn!” Shizuku nods.

“Let’s drink to that.” Pakunoda agrees, as they raise their shot glasses and pour the beverages down their throats. The guys open the slide door to the backyard and enter the kitchen, looking around for their plucky friend.

“Is Chrollo finally making his move?” Uvogin grunts out as he makes a b-line for the fridge, undoubtedly to get another beer.

-

Chrollo’s room is a bit barren, but it has a few posters that look a bit too blurry for you to actually take note of. He closes the door behind you and heads towards his closet.

“I have some spare pajamas, this shirt’s super baggy on me so it should be comfortable.” Chrollo explains as he hands you his clothes, as you’re about to thank him, your phone begins to vibrate. You grab it out of your pocket and sigh, Pariston. You reluctantly answer and raise your phone to your ear.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? I drove by your place and you’re not there.” Pariston asks, and you’ve never been the best liar, especially if you’re under the influence…

“Yeaaaah I’m fine! Spending the night at a friend's house, I got a little drunk.” You answer, and you hear Chrollo snort.

“A little?” He whispers with a smirk on his beautiful, handsome face.

“You know I don’t like when you drink without me. What friend are you with anyway? You don’t have any, sweetie.” You know he’s concerned, you know you should just answer calmly, but was it really necessary to bring up the fact that you don’t have friends? You feel heat rise in your body at his comment, how dare he remind you of that?!

“I said I’m fine, I’m not a child!” You roll your eyes as you hang up, much to your own surprise. You sit on chrollo’s bed, forgetting what you were doing in the first place. You feel chrollo’s weight on the mattress as a hand reaches out to your face and wipes away a tear you didn’t notice.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He gently asks, putting an arm around your shoulder. You lean your head against his muscular shoulder and let a sob exit your mouth.

“I feel like I can’t- can’t complain be-because everyone says he’s perfect for me and- and and- it’s not a lie but I hate when he treats me like that!” You admit. Your phone buzzes in your hand again, and you don’t wanna fucking see his oversized smile right now. You throw your phone across the room.

“You don’t have to listen to what other people say, just do what makes you happy.” Chrollo suggests, you feel him rub your forearm and the gesture comforts you. You bury your face deeper into his neck and inhale his scent. Relishing in the serenity it brings you.

“They’re not wrong, he is a perfect boyfriend- I guess. Even my mom said I could drop out since Pariston would just take care of me anyway, which is kinda so totally weird now that I think about it…” you think out loud. “I feel like he just sees me as an extension of himself… does that make sense? And as if all of my issues can be solved by throwing money at them.” You pull away and look into Chrollo's pretty grey eyes. He immediately shakes his head.

“Absolutely, but you’re more than an extension, you’re your own person with wants and needs. He can meet the physical ones but if he can’t understand you on an emotional level… then why are you wasting your time dear?” Chrollo tilts your head up to look at him directly. You stare into his mesmerizing orbs, “people with money suck, it ruins the soul.” He adds with a smirk on his face. “Admittedly, I’ve always hated it. I've been living in an orphanage my whole life so I understand what it’s like to be at the mercy of someone else swinging their money in front of me. Well, it’s a different situation but… you get it.” Chrollo reveals to you, looking away.

“I didn’t know that about you.” You gasp out, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be complaining- really, ugh I feel like a bi-“

“By all means, complain! I’ve never really liked Pariston to begin with, he’s snobby, just good at hiding it around his girl I guess.” He scoffs, “here, go ahead and change. I’ll leave you alone.” Chrollo finally looks back at you and smiles as he stands. He lets go of you for a second, and it’s more than enough to make you realize you don’t want him to let go, ever.

“Please- please don’t leave me.” You cry out to him, quickly grabbing ahold of his hand. Chrollo turns back to look at you, maybe he’s shocked, or annoyed. You can’t tell the difference.

“I’m only leaving to give you some privacy, I’ll be back when you’re done changing.” Chrollo reassures, “open the door when you’re done, I’ll stay with you for as long as you want.” He soothes. You let go of his hand as he exits the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

You quickly grab the clothing he left for you off the bed and take off your clothing, including your bra. You’d be damned before you sleep with one of those contraptions on. You put his shirt (it smells just like his cologne) and basketball shorts on as fast as you can. You sloppily attempt to fold your clothes, but it’s a bit confusing when you’re wasted. You place it on a desk he has nearby (you just noticed the large drum set he has in his room, how the hell did you miss that?) and go to open the door. He’s leaning against the wall on the opposite side as you hold your hand out to him. Chrollo smirks at your gesture and accepts it. He walks into his bedroom with you and closes the door again.

“You play drums?” You slur out as you point with your free hand. He chuckles and nods.

“Yeah, I play piano too but my keyboard’s in the garage. I’d play for you if the music wasn’t so loud.” He points out. You agree with him, the volume wasn’t this loud before, was it?

-

“Turn it down, it’s hurting my ears.” Machi groans as the bass vibrates throughout her body.

“Fuck no, she’s too drunk to contain herself right now. If they start fucking you’re gonna thank me! Come on, let him have this!” Phinks yells through the speaker's boom.

-

“Yeah, I swear it was quieter.” A confused look spreads on your face. It wasn’t overwhelming by any means, but you’d definitely be bothered if you were sober in the living room.

“You look nice.” Chrollo blurts out, giving you a once over. You gasp in surprise, he’s complimenting you?!

“Thank you!” You squeal and move to give him a hug, stunting him. Chrollo wraps his warm arms around you as you inhale deeply.

“You smell soooo sublime…” you mumble against his chest, digging your nose in as much as you can.

You’re being weird. You’re being so fucking weird right now.

You pull away immediately and cover your face in humiliation. “I’m soooo so sorry roro, that was sooo weird of me!” You quickly turn around, gods why the fuck are you like this? “You can totally leave, I'm so sooo sooooo sorry!” You shriek out, you swear you feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes but you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough. You won’t cry in front of him again.

“Hey, I didn’t mind at all, don’t hide that beautiful face from me,” Chrollo comforts you, you feel his hands grabbing onto yours and bringing them down, away from your face. “I liked it anyway, but you should lay down, seriously you’re stumbling everywhere.” He laughs and you nod. “Are you dizzy? Do you feel like vomiting?” His voice is laced with so much concern that feels genuine. Pariston would ask too, both out of concern and desire to save face. It was always mixed with both.

“Nooo, not dizzy. Just drunk and emotional and I dunno, a secret third thing?” Your voice raises as you think about it. “It’s a mystery that I don’t even know.” You giggle as you sit on his bed. You pat a spot next to you and he snorts, but sits down nonetheless.

“I wish Pariston was more like you,” you blurt out randomly, shocking even yourself.

“What do you mean?” He laughs, placing an arm around you once more.

“He cares about how other people view him too much. He’s such a perfectionist, it’s exhausting keeping up with him. Like, sooo totally draining!” You whine as you throw your body back onto the mattress. “He gets embarrassed by every little thing I do, he doesn’t have to say it, I can feel it.” You meekly let out that part, but Chrollo could hear you loud and clear. He lays down next to you and you turn your body to face him, happy to see his eyes..

“Why do you wear a bandana?” You suddenly ask, staring at it. “I’ve never seen your um, what’s it called… that head part… you know the one…?”

“My forehead?”

“Yeah! That thing!”

“Oh, I have a tattoo. Do you wanna see it?” Chrollo says as he takes it off, not waiting for you to answer.

Is it a cross? It kinda looks like one… it looks like a bullseye too…

You stare at his forehead for a few moments before you kiss him gently on the strange mark.

“It’s like a ‘lil bullseye.” You giggle, and his face is devoid of all color (as if it had much to begin with). A twinge of guilt pulls at your heart, Pariston is still your boyfriend…

“Fuck- I’m sorry, can I kiss you?” He suddenly speaks out, “I’m sorry, I know you’re dating him but-“ you cut Chrollo off by placing your lips on his, ‘fuck Pariston, you’ll deal with that fiasco later’

Chrollo’s lips immediately move to find a steady rhythm with yours, albeit still a bit sloppy due to the alcohol streaming in your bodies. His lips felt so warm… you couldn’t help your body as you broke apart briefly and straddle his body, continuing to kiss him as you moan against his lips. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping into your skin.

-

“I just don’t think she’s the type to cheat,” Pakunoda frowns, “you guys shouldn’t be encouraging it!” She’s met with a chorus of ‘boos!’ And Uvogin throws in a ‘oh brother, this guy stinks!’

“He hasn’t taken an interest in a girl in everrrr, come on be more supportive!” Shalnark defends, passing a blunt over to Nobunaga.

“Chrollo has more respect for relationships than you’d think.” She rebuts. Phinks rolls his eyes and grabs his phone, changing the music to an r&b playlist. The group looks over at him and he shrugs.

“What? Gotta help a brother out. You’re all such fake friends, I’m setting the mood at least!”

-

Your entire body heats as chrollo groans, you inadvertently grind on him and that’s when you feel it, he’s hard. You pull away from his lips and go down to his neck as he groans, an angelic noise you’d pay millions to hear again.

“Fuck… please don’t stop baby…” he moans, grinding your hips against his own with his hand. You could feel him twitch under you. “Leave marks on me, do whatever you want.” He encourages, and you take the bait. Your teeth dig into his neck and you suck harshly, making sure you leave something behind.

“You have- no idea for how long I’ve been thinking of this…” Chrollo hisses out as you move to a new spot on his neck, biting away to your heart's content. “Ever since I saw you hanging around Paku, but I was too ner-fuck! Too nervous…” he admits. You pull away and look him in the eyes briefly, touched by his words. He’s noticed you for the last three years…?

“You felt it too?” You pant out, staring at one another. Chrollo nods slowly, whispering out a small, “yeah,” before he flips you over. You don’t process it until seconds after, but Chrollo’s on top of you now with a knee in between your legs.

“You look sexy in my shirt.” He whispers, kissing your forehead as you did his. “You can wear them whenever you’d like.” He offers, going in to kiss your neck, but he hesitates. “…can I?” He ask, looking up at you for reassurance.

“Do whatever you want.” You repeat his previous words to him as he finally goes in to kiss your sensitive neck. He’s so gentle, as if you were made of porcelain.

But you don’t want that, you’ve had enough of that treatment. You grab ahold of his hair and pull him back with force, “please be rough with me,” your eyes beam up at his, “don’t treat me like I can’t handle it.” You insist. There’s a dark look in Chrollo’s eyes once he registers your words, you let go of his hair and he finally gives you what you wanted.

He bites harshly into your neck, and you’re sure it’ll leave a mark in the morning but there’s nothing else you want more than that right now. To be marked by Chrollo of all people feels like an honor to you. He continues to suck and bite into different spots, earning fruitful moans from you.

“Fuck! Thank you.” You groan out, embracing the stinging sensation his teeth leave behind. He continues for a while, and you lace your hands through his soft hair strands (you definitely need to ask him for his hair care routine, and he’s lying if he says he doesn’t have one). “Chrollo,” you purr out, due to your drunken state you could barely even feel the harsh bites on your sensitive skin. He pulls up momentarily and gawks at the mark he left.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry, it’s huge-“ he begins, but you roll your eyes and giggle at him. He’s so sweet, so cute!

“Leave a bigger one on the other side then,” you dare him, half smiling as he dives in without any hesitation. “Awe, so cute, you listen so well.” You sigh while he sucks on your neck with purpose. You don't care who sees you in the morning; all you want is chrollo and something tangible; something that proves you were with him for once. You feel more bites and you moan for him, to encourage him, to rouse him.

Chrollo pulls away momentarily to look up at you once more, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before he speaks.

“You’re gonna have a hard time hiding this from Pariston…” he admits, looking down at his hard work with pride. You roll your eyes, you’re tired of being perfect around him anyway.

“Fuck Pariston, and fuck me the way that he can’t.” You whisper with a sudden boldness you’ve never had.

Pariston has only ever been gentle with you, saying anything else is too “unholy” and shouldn’t even be done considering you’re not married.

Fuck that, you want whatever Chrollo would be willing to give, and from the looks of it it’s something you’ve ached for.

“I don’t have a condom-“ he starts, but you only laugh in response.

“Don’t care, I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone else in my life.” You insist, letting go of any restraints you’ve had.

Chrollo sits up completely and takes off his shirt, revealing a six pack you definitely did not imagine at any point of knowing him. You gawk at his chest shamelessly, there’s no tattoos to your surprise but he’s so well sculpted.

“Pretty,” you blurt out in admiration rolling your hips against the knee in between your legs. Fuck, you’d die if you didn’t feel him inside of you in the next minute. You sit up and take off your own shirt as well, eager to feel him touch you again. “Move over,” you instruct, “wanna take off my shorts,” you add, but chrollo stays perfectly still inbetween you.

“Nah, let me do that baby.” He replies, pulling down your underwear and shorts in one move as you lift your hips. He moves his knee for a moment to pull them off completely before he turns his attention back to your breast, leaning down to kiss the area around your nipples. He doesn’t give you what you want immediately, making you groan.

“Pleaseee?” You beg, but a hand rises to your neck and holds it in place.

“You’ve been giving a lot of orders here, I think it’s my turn,” he demands in a low voice, continuing gentle kisses around your tits. You rub yourself against his pants, thrusting in desperation. You’re sure you’ve left a trail of your wetness on him, but you don’t care.

“‘Kay,” you moan out, god, does he have any idea how sexy he is when he’s controlling?

Pariston never did that, you always had to instruct him on everything.

Chrollo pushes your tits together and sucks both of nipples into his mouth, harshly. You speed up your grinding once he starts, letting out a brief “thank you.”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought, you’re gonna be a good girl and listen to me, huh baby? Gonna let me take care of you?” He smirks and you nod eagerly, anything to make him happy.

“Yes Chro! Whatever you want, whatever you need!” You say in passion and desperation. He grabs hold of both of your breasts with each hand, massaging them roughly.

“Good girl, Pariston doesn’t do this huh? Too much of a little bitch to put you in your place?” He says sternly, looking down at you without any emotion on his face. He was in control, and you’re more than happy to give into Chrollo’s desires.

You quickly shake your head, “Never! Just you Chrollo.” You admit, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his knee meets with your thrust. Then he stops, taking off his own pants finally (you definitely left a stain on them) and you see his cock fully erect and absolutely aching for attention.

“I’d take my time with you, but you’re soaked enough and you make me impatient,” he admits, lining his length up with your hole. “Are you ready, baby?” He asks, sitting completely still as he waits for your answer.

“Yes Chrollo, please… just fuck me.” You whimper in desperation. He laughs at you, nodding his head as his cock finally enters you slowly filling your walls with his length.

“So good,” you admit, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Faster?” He says, gathering a slow rhythm that would be the death of you. You nod excitedly and moan as he finally pulls out and sheaths himself completely inside of you, forcing another moan out of your mouth. “Fuck…” he curses, giving you short but fulfilling thrusts. “What, you’ve never been fucked by a real man? Is that it?” He teases, licking the shell of your ear. “So used to your little boyfriend who wants to be gentle and romantic? Huh?” You nod, unable to speak as he fucks into you roughly. “Fuckin’ thought so.” He laughs maniacally, and you clench around him at the sound, unable to control yourself. You wrap your legs around his hips, never wanting to let go of him.

“Awe, how cute, you’re already getting addicted my cock,” he teases, this time kissing your forehead. “I want you to listen to me and do exactly what I say, got it?” You look into his eyes, nodding.

“Whatever you want, Chro, I’m yours!” You pant out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you groan, he hits your g-spot repeatedly and it feels marvelous.

“You’re gonna breakup with that little bitch of a man and you’re gonna do it tomorrow, don’t cover up your neck. I want him to see it,” Chrollo growls, “gonna tell him you found a real man to give you exactly what you need, gonna watch him cry because he knows he’ll never be enough for you.” He cackles again, letting out a low growl into your ear. It sends vibrations down your neck and you don’t think you’ll last much longer; not like this.

“O-okay! I’ll leave him! Don’t care if he-he sees, I want him to know it’s you!” You pathetically yell out, and Chrollo rewards you with a sharp bite to your shoulder.

“Good girl, gonna let me cum inside, yeah? Has he ever done that?” You shake your head ‘no,’ earning another chuckle from him. His thrusts feel wonderful; and they become more enhanced when one of his thumbs slips down to rub with your clit.

“‘Course he hasn’t, you were a good girl and you waited for me to be the first huh? Fuck! Be so hot if you were pregnant…” he groans, losing rhythm in his thrust momentarily. “I’ll take care of you,” Chrollo grunts into your ears, and you become intoxicated off his words alone. “Give you what you want, make you happy… so happy.” He promises, looking into your eyes. “Just leave him, be my baby. Promise I’ll give you all the attention-“ his hips stutter, “all the attention you need. Never put anything above you…” Chrollo preaches, “Always wanted to punch his snobby little face, knock that smile off of him. Gonna be so fuckin’ pissed when he realizes some punk ass fucked his girl so good she never looked back.” He blathers on, but you can’t fully understand him at this point. All you understand is that you need him more than you’ve needed anything else in the world. He speeds up his thumb and kisses you deeply, tongues clashing together as you both moan into one another’s mouths. Your cunt clenches around him rapidly; you’re so close… so dangerously close and Chrollo isn’t far off either.

You pull away from him, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you finally reach your high.

“Chrollo! Fuck- I’m yours!” You whine, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body. Your arms begin to loosen around his neck and he follows his own high, painting your walls with his cum as he finally slows down. You’re both panting, enjoying each other's company in your blissed out state. Chrollo slowly pulls out of you and lays down to your right, gently moving your body so that he could spoon you. You drift off into a deep slumber as his arm snakes around your body, keeping you warm.

-

“Mornin’.” Chrollo whispers, watching as you stir awake. You look behind you to see him shirtless- well, naked- with a book in hand. You groan and give him a nasty glare, but then your body moves around to cuddle into him anyway.

“Head hurt.” You grumble out in annoyance and he laughs. “Not funny!” You whine as you bite into his side. He doesn’t seem upset, but giggles at the action instead.

“I have some painkillers in my drawer, also I put your phone to charge. Hope you don’t mind, I turned it off since you kept on getting calls.” He brings up. Chrollo stretches out to his nightstand, grabbing a bottle of medicine and a glass of water. “Sit up for me, please.” He asks and you follow suit.

He opens the bottle for you and gives you two pills, placing them on your tongue for you too. Chrollo brings up the glass to your lips and you slowly sip until you can swallow them. You immediately crawl back into the blanket at his side.

“Gonna need you to finish that water soon, you’re probably dehydrated. What do you want for breakfast? I’ll buy.” He offers but you shake your head.

“Not hungry. Just wanna sleep and die probably.” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“First hangover, huh?”

“Oh my god you’re so fucking loud.”

“That was a whisper.”

“SO LOUD!” You whisper-yell back at him. Chrollo chuckles and plays with your messy hair, deciding it’s useless to speak until the meds kick in. You let out small moans as he massages your scalp, relishing the feeling.

A while passes by, and you slowly stir up as your headache passes. “Can you pass me my phone?” You ask, eyes low as you prepare yourself for whatever’s on your phone. He turns it on for you and places it in your hand, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Fuckkk,” you groan, “I’ve never broken up with someone before, how do you even do that?” You look over to Chrollo in confusion.

“I think your neck will speak for itself.” He smirks, and as your phone turns on you ignore the messages and head straight for your camera app.

“Fucking Christ, Chrollo.” You say in disbelief. One hickey was at least two inches wide and long, while the other was smaller but impossible to ignore.

“I think they look great.” He shrugs as if nothing.

You finally check your notifications, you have 46 missed calls from Pariston and several from your parents.

“Ugh, he dragged my family into this, wasn’t necessary at all.” You roll your eyes. Opening the messages your mother left.

“Mind if I read- sorry, I’m nosy.” He asks, and you giggle and nod.

“At least you asked.”

‘Pariston told us you were out drinking (which isn’t a concern, good for you sweetie! Make friends!) but why are you ignoring him?’

‘Pls text back in morning. Love u. Be safe. Xoxo. Will make tiramisu when u visit.’

‘I lied, too much work, haha. Let’s just buy some.’

“Your mother seems sweet,” Chrollo brings up.

“She is, a bit strict but it’s been going away lately.”

And now onto the Pariston messages….

‘Who are you getting drunk with sweetheart?’

‘Okay I apologize for what I said on the phone, I didn’t mean to imply you’re socially inept.’

‘Please answer sweetie I feel awful but the guys want me to do a keg stand and I’ve never been sad drunk before.’

‘Answer meeeeee.’

‘Please.’

‘You always listen to me, what’s going on bunny?’

‘I texted your mom she said you’re allowed to drink but I don’t like you drinking without me that’s just not okay in my book and I will never be okay with it. Sweetheart you should have just drank with us’

“Okay I’m stopping right there, I’m not going through the other 30 messages he left.” You sigh. “I’ll break up with him today, promise.” You turn to Chrollo and peck him on the lips, latching onto his side as you both lay down.

“Wanna watch The Adventures of Buratino? The original Russian version?” He offers, kissing your forehead gently.