#chrollo x reader

his hand palms over his rock hard dick, it’s been that way since the mere idea of this popped into his head, as he listens to you chatter away about something he couldn’t care less about; he isn’t even trying to hide his breathless panting and the non-stop wetness of his dick, sloppy with precum, thrusting into his tight fist. the tip throbs an angry red as he holds back his release again and again and again just so he can continue getting off to your cute voice.

at some points, you ask him if he can hear some noises too and for a moment his heart stops and he wonders if you’ve caught him red handed.

but then he remembers that it’s just you, coddled and blissfully unaware of the sin that surrounds every aspect of life, so all he has to say is that his tv is on in the background and you’re back to talking again. perfect.

his blood is pumping red hot as his strokes grow uncoordinated and even more furious than they were before and he finds himself fighting the urge to ask you what you’re wearing. no that’s too much, too soon, so he instead chooses to bite down on his lip until the taste of iron fills his mouth. a small price to pay.

“helloooooo still there?” you call out after ten minutes of him being seemingly unresponsive, assuming he’s finally managed to fall asleep. you don’t bother to end the call, after all you know how comforting it is to sleep with your friend still on the phone after a bad day.

he imagines shoving his dick into your wet mouth mid-sentence, cock growing impossibly harder at the mental sight of your surprised face, you gagging because you’re unaccustomed to a dick his size - scratch that, any dick and all the debauched things he would teach you.

eventually he hears your gentle snores, of course you fell asleep before the main event, throwing his head back and grunting way louder than he did before knowing you definitely won’t be waking up. his chest heaves and legs shake from the orgasm that overwhelms him and he almost ends the call from the guilt rising inside of him - almost. but then he catches sight of his thick cum splattered right where your contact photo was and his cock twitches as if he didn’t just come seconds ago.

good thing you didn’t end the call; he decides he can have a little more fun with (or without) you - he still feels a bit under the weather, of course.

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tomura shigaraki, dabi, takami keigo, togata mirio, kai chisaki, l lawliet, kei tsukishima, koshi sugawara, kenma kozume, satori tendo, yuji itadori, satoru gojo, denji, chrollo, hisoka morrow, shalnark, katsuya serizawa, reigan arataka

The only thing Chrollo would intentionally reveal is his disappointment—with you and your futile attempt at escape. It wouldn’t be genuine, of course. He’s only doing it because he knows the effects it’ll have on you. Depending on the circumstances—his mood at the time, or whether you’ve tried to escape before—he might use subtle threats to make it crystal fucking clear that there’s no escaping him. He tries his best to avoid violence of any kind with you, it's not something he enjoys or feels is necessary. He’d rather hint at the consequences of your actions—not just for you, but for your friends, your family, and anyone involved in your escape.

Chrollo strikes me as the type who would rather make someone fear what could happen than actually carry out a punishment. He might feel like that method provides the best results? Less disobedience and more compliance, without completely breaking someone? Who knows. 

Anywayssss. Your fear about being punished for trying to escape wouldn’t surprise Chrollo, he already expected that. But you trying to seduce him would be very surprising, he never expected that. He’d hide his surprise and confusion well, barely letting anything show—maybe just a brief change in his body language, but that's all. Considering the kind of man Chrollo is, he probably wouldn’t want you to know that you had actually managed to throw him off guard, and that definitely influenced his reaction. 

I’d imagine that Chrollo’s feelings for you would also play a part in how he’d react to the situation. He is attracted to you, both physically and emotionally, and you trying to seduce him would really test his limits. In his mind, he might be imagining fucking you right then and there, thinking of all the things he could do to you. But he knows better than to act solely on feelings, and prides himself on self-control. During your time together, Chrollo made sure he never crossed any lines with you, understanding the importance of appearing gentlemanly, composed, and caring. He knew that making you feel uncomfortable—more than necessary—would do little good, so he carefully maintained his image. As selfish as it sounds, he did it for himself more than he did it for you. 

Chrollo’s also very smart. It wouldn’t take long for him to realize that you’re probably only trying to seduce him so you can avoid being punished. He’s seen people do all sorts of things under the right amount of pressure, but this might be a first. The fact that you’d try to manipulate him—and in that specific way too—was amusing. But he wouldn’t stop you, no, he’d rather sit back and observe for a bit, probably contemplating how to deal with you. 

If Chrollo does decide to ‘entertain’ your attempts of seduction, it's because he wants to, not because you succeeded in seducing him. Maybe he’d play along because he wants to see just how far you’d go? Maybe he’s been feeling a little pent up lately, and this is the perfect opportunity to satisfy his needs? Either way, Chrollo never does anything without a purpose.

In this case, Chrollo would use the situation as an opportunity to teach you a lesson. Don’t expect much leniency from him. Running away was a betrayal, and that’s not something he’ll forget, or forgive easily. Still, he can’t help but feel slightly impressed with how you handled the situation. He knows you’re scared, but instead of giving into your fear—like he would’ve expected—you made a cunning move, attempting to manipulate him. And it might have worked, too, if you weren’t trying to manipulate him. But that tiny bit of respect you managed to gain doesn’t mean you’re off the hook from being punished.  

If Chrollo does decide to punish you, he wouldn’t be overly cruel with it. Fear can be a great motivator, but he wouldn’t overdo it. He doesn’t want to traumatize you, no, that would only cause more problems for him in the long run. Instead, he’d opt for something subtle and far more effective, something very intimate. Chrollo is no stranger to using unorthodox methods of punishment, and he wouldn’t hesitate in the slightest to employ them if they served his purpose. 

Chrollo would intentionally draw out the situation, allowing you to touch and kiss him, while using that sweet voice of yours to whisper some cock-hardening words into his ear. He’d be patient and play along with your game—calmly responding to your advances with some of his own—making you think that you’re winning, but you’re not, and you never will. 

He gives you just enough rope to hang yourself with. He’ll let you take the lead, at first. He’ll remain almost passive, his dark eyes tracking your every move, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It’s a test. He’s giving you the rope, watching with detached curiosity to see how you’ll hang yourself with it. 

As you're whispering all that filthy shit in his ear, pressing your body against his, he doesn’t just passively take it. He actively rewards you. He plays along. He doesn’t just passively let you grope him. That would be too obvious. Chrollo is a master of performance. He commits to the role. 

As your hands tremble while unbuttoning his shirt, he’ll cover them with his own, steadying them. He’ll lean into your desperate kisses, meeting your frantic energy. It feels like acceptance, like he's being won over. He’ll let out a soft hum of approval, a low sound in his chest that vibrates against your lips, making you think, it’s actually working. He is doing the bare minimum to give you the maximum amount of false hope.

When you kiss his neck, a low groan rumbles in his chest. When your hand slips down to grope the front of his pants, his own hand comes up to grip your hip, pulling you closer. “Is this what you want?” he’ll murmur, voice like silk. “To be close to me like this?” He’s giving you positive reinforcement, at the bare min, meticulously crafting this illusion that you're actually getting to him. He wants you to feel like you’ve successfully manipulated Chrollo Lucilfer.

The flip. The goddamn switch. This is where it all changes. It happens when you’re at your most vulnerable—when he’s finally inside you, deep and warm. You’d be riding him, thinking you’ve won, that this is your escape from punishment—moaning his name, nails scratching down his chest, convinced your little seduction’s got him wrapped around your finger. 

No big dramatic moment, just a shift in his grip, his fingers suddenly clamping down on your waist to pin you in place, halting your movements mid-thrust. He’ll hold you still, fully impaled on him. You’re balancing on the edge, pussy clenching around him, so fucking close, and he just... stops. His eyes meet yours, that calm detachment back in full force, a smirk curling his lips as he says, casual as anything, “you didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

“Did you really think this would work?” He’ll ask, his hips giving a single, slow, thrust that’s devoid of any genuine feeling. He’ll start to move again, but the rhythm is all wrong. It’s too fast, too shallow, or too brutally deep, designed for his pleasure and your discomfort. He’ll watch your face, your desperate expression, and his lips will curl into a mild smirk. “You ran from me,” he’ll whisper, each word punctuated by a rough shove of his hips, rolling into you.“You betrayed my trust.” Thrust. “And you thought you could fuck your way out of the consequences?” Thrust. “How naive.” 

This is where the real cruelty comes in. He’s going to use your own body against you. He’ll fuck you—with his fingers, his mouth, his cock—and he will be an expert at it. He knows exactly how to drive you up, how to make your breath catch and your toes curl. He’ll pull out just enough to use his thumb to grind mercilessly against your clit while he fucks you. He’ll drive you to the absolute brink, your whole body convulsing, begging to come. You’ll be sobbing, pleading. And just as the wave is about to crash over you, he’ll stop everything. Completely. He’ll pull his thumb away, still his hips, and just hold you there, impaled and trembling, while the orgasm withers and dies inside you.

“Patience,” he’ll murmur, leaning down to kiss you sweetly, a horrifying contrast to the torment he’s forcing you to endure. He’ll do this over and over again. Bringing you to the brink, then snatching it away, until you’re sobbing, a desperate, incoherent mess, begging him to just let you come. He’ll let you recover for a moment before whispering, “let’s try that again,” and start the entire agonizing process over. Leaving you in a constant state of wired, overstimulated agony.

He overstimulates the fuck out of you after the edging, not letting up even when you finally cum, slamming into your oversensitive cunt until you’re writhing, tears streaming, body betraying you with orgasms that border on painful.