#morow

To get that feeling that each run-in with the redhead is less of a coincidence than it seems, Hisoka dropping more and more information about you until it becomes alarming, the Magician smiling at you with faux innocence as he watches your alarm rise.

Finishing your job and leaving town to settle in a few towns over, glad to be rid of Hisoka’s unnerving presence.

Only for him to show up the next day, trailing behind you.

It’s obvious that he’s stalking you, and it’s obvious that he likes watching you run, the young hunter becoming the hunted in a twisted reversal of roles.

Wherever you find work, Hisoka happens to have a job as well, running into you each and every day with a dark twinkle in his eye, daring you to keep playing this little game of cat-and-mouse.

He holes up at the same Inns, pretends to be your friend, monopolizes your time by cornering you in public at every opportunity, rambling lazily about work while he watches you try and figure out how to politely slip away.

You always feel eyes on you, even when you’re certain you’re alone, locked in your room for the night, shutters drawn and lights put out.

No matter where you go, Hisoka follows, and you can’t ever seem to hide. 

He’s relentless in his pursuit, yet doesn’t make any moves to subdue you yet, savoring the chase, the game the two of you are playing.

Oh to get tired of his creepy behavior one night as he follows you from the shadows. You can sense his presence, and it’s irritating, because the only way you know he’s there is because Hisoka wants you to know.

Yelling at him to stop being a pervert, to stop following you, watching you, mirroring your every move.

Only to have Hisoka to disappear suddenly, just like a magician at the end of a show, no trace left behind.

To be so satisfied with yourself, for standing up to the mad man, for driving him off. Walking with your head held high and a proud feeling in your chest.

Passing through a dark alleyway to reach your destination, not worried about anybody jumping you because you have the necessary skills to incapacitate almost anyone.

Oh to be suddenly slammed against the wall, head spinning as you get thrown to the ground, Hisoka standing over you in the dark, teeth gleaming as his lips stretch into a wicked smile.

Having to fight the deranged Magician, trying to cut him and land painful hits to his body, only to be horrified at the subsequent moans each hit draws from him.

Hisoka raggedly taunting you, eyes lightning up as he lets you in on the multitude of ways he’s been stalking you, the things you had noticed, the things you hadn’t.

Like how he broke into your room each night, snooped in your belongings. Picked fights with men who’s eyes trailed after your body, just so he could beat them to the ground, relishing the fight.  Each punch to their stomach, each slice of his cards further solidifying that he was the only one who got to have you.

To ruin you.

Trying to fight back against Hisoka, horrified at his behavior.

Having it draw out, each of you bloody and battered, Hisoka laughing, hissing, groaning in pleasure each time you’re able to hurt him.

The bulge in his pants thoroughly disgusting you.

Oh to finally get knocked to your knees, a razor-sharp playing card tucked underneath your chin, forcing your head back to look up at Hisoka. Having the Magician run his bloody fingers through your hair, before pulling and making you wince.

Having the man use his cards to cut at your clothes, and finding it in you to keep fighting, determined to avoid his lecherous intentions.

Fighting him while he cuts off your clothes, while he shoves you against the wall, while he sucks on his fingers to get them wet before running them over your cunt.

Throwing your head back and hearing a satisfying crunch as you break his nose, but the man only groans low, before swiping at the blood dribbling towards his lip to use it to wet your hole.

Letting out a frustrated cry when he shuffles his pants down, long cock prodding against your ass, feeling the man rut against your a few times.

Redoubling your efforts, only managing to knock him aside and run a few meagre steps before being caught again, strong arms hauling you into the air to slam you down onto the cobblestones.

Trying to bite at his face when he gets too close, Hisoka giggling in glee as he lines himself up, slicks his length with the saliva you spit in his face.

Oh to have him utterly wreck you, fucking you into the gritty cobblestones while you fight him the entire time, scratching at his skin, biting his shoulder deep enough to draw blood, pinching his flesh between your fingers hard enough to bruise.

It only encourages HIsoka, hips stuttering at each painful sensation, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he moans, encourages you to continue.

Having him pound you stupid, until you’re screaming and exhausted, disgusted, drained. 

Having him cum inside you when you yell at him about how he’s a filthy degenerate, a disgusting pervet, a slob, a creepy, sick man that’s fucked in the head.

Oh to have him carry you back to the inn you’re staying at, a blanket that seemed to materialize from nowhere wrapped around your naked, dirty body.

Having Hisoka tuck you into bed, promising to see you again, to fight you again, to fuck you again.