chrollo does not kiss you how he wants to kiss you.
his kisses are short and sweet, usually placed on your hand or forehead. if he’s feeling especially daring, he’ll close his eyes and tilt your head up for a soft kiss of your lips. he wants you to think of him as some princely romantic figure in your life - charming and sophisticated.
you and him both know if he were a little less interested in how you perceive him he would practically devour you; hands running up and down your body, your limbs wrapped around each other, breathing coming out in heavy pants, akin to a slobbering dog on a hot day.
Chrollo dragged a pale hand through freshly washed and dried hair, his bangs moved easily with the motion, strands fell out of the wave to hang back over his eyes.
You noticed the glimmer amidst the black, a few silver strands shimmering like silk spider webs, woven into the darkness like threads of wisdom and pain he didn’t speak of.
Chrollo often forgets about the cups of tea and coffee he makes for himself. Easily consumed by what he’s reading. It was Pakunoda who would notice his forgotten cup placed off to the side. She would reheat his coffee/tea.
The first time he took a cold and bitter sip since her passing was a hard moment for him.
Synopsis: Chrollo likes you, you remind him of someone he knows. Better yet, you might just be her. He's hosting a show tonight and you can't be missing.
Tags/Warnings: dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/coercion, knives, oral and penetrative sex, psychosis/schizophrenia, stalking, 1 insensitive rword remark, Sarasa mentions (Chrollo's childhood friend), spoilers for the manga, would add more but it kinda ruins the plot.
A/N: a combination of ideas, inspired by the Phantom Troupe's flashback in the Succession Contest arc basically and a Weeknd song, idk really ..[played a bit with the verb tenses intentionally, hope you like it:.)]
The party. That’s right, you were at a party, a drink in your hand and your friend with you. Where was the party? A sharp pain pierces through your cranium and you wince. What ever happened to your friend? You decide you can't show empathy at the present time.
It was commonly assumed that memory followed a chronological sequence (it was partially true, if you practiced mental exercises), that the human brain could recall memories exactly like they unfolded but let's be honest, memory recalling happened in film stills for most. The party. Your friend. The colors of the light. A man.
A man. Who was the man and what were you talking about, you try to think but it’s kind of hard when you can’t see, you’re blindfolded and tied to a chair. Earthy odor, smells like soil, you note. Not that this takes you far. You had definitely been drugged, you felt weak and nauseous- it was a wonder the stills popped up your head- eyes so tightly folded, the little shapes and colors from the pressure increasing your fatigue, your heart palpitating. Was this date rape? You couldn’t touch yourself to find out but you felt intact. This was also not a date. Then why the abduction and ropes? To offer something, you think. But you didn’t have much to offer for the record. You try calming yourself down but the thought only stresses you further. Fuck, how long was this going to take?
Chrollo never did things without reason. Never talked without it, stole without it (debatable, but they were in need), never acted without it or killed without it. You being there was no mistake, he was wondering how you felt at the moment, not very familiar with human emotions, they all seemed wary, he thought, so he often brushed them off, not caring enough to dig deeper. Chrollo listened, he never talked. He could sit through a Troupe meeting actively hearing the members, knowing fully well when stupid proposals and ideas were spouted as they all patiently waited for his final word. He didn’t mind, he thought it was funny how people unraveled without him trying to get them to. His decision on you, he had to admit was made on impulse. He didn’t mean to drug you. He didn’t mean to abduct you. Unlike you, he remembers details. Him and the Troupe were in a club (silly to assume for entertainment, a stolen prize now decorating the heist gallery in one of the Troupe's hideouts) when he saw you. You weren’t far, a couple inches away, drinking clumsily and conversing with a person he presumed was a friend by the proximity of it. You had her eyes, he thought. Of course he could see perfectly in the dark, well, he could pretty much use any of his senses to a higher extent, he wouldn’t be a Specialist after all. Your wide eyes gleamed, they squinted when you couldn’t listen. To make matters worse, you had your hair in pigtails, loosely falling down your shoulders, long hair divided by two black hair ties. Just like hers, he thinks. Now, Chrollo is not sentimental, he really isn’t, but the optic parallels cloud his judgment and he wants nothing more but to be by your side, to reminisce the part of him that died a long time ago. He can’t cry, not unless he has a reason- he does nothing without it, but feels touched merely by your presence. Once the decision is finalized, he makes a move.
-
‘’Excuse me, miss’’ a voice rings behind you. A tall man with dark brown hair and a gloomy set of eyes holds out your house keys, you always shoved them in your pockets, as you considered it safer than your purse, not directly attached to your body.
‘’T- thank you’’ you stammer, you’ve had a couple of drinks as the club lights hit on your face making you stumble against him, the guy behind you dancing so carelessly you’re being pushed left and right either way.
‘’Be careful’’ he smiles as he extends his arm to hold you upright, a mournful look on his face as he walks away. The keys. The man. The drink. Dark. There is no memory of what happened after.
It’s the same voice you hear entering the room (was it even a room? The sounds echo as if you were in a cave).
‘’Finally, here you are darling.’’ he smoothly says as you scream the first thing that comes to your mind ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’. Your voice rips through the ‘cave’ but you are certain it makes no difference. Whoever this is, doesn’t worry about the helpless sounds you’re about to make.
‘’Darling, please don’t yell, I’m right here.’’ the voice of the man inches closer, as the blindfold is being removed from your hurting eyes. Your heart races when you see him in all his glory, ominous stare and a forehead tattoo decorating his forehead (did he have this at the club?), blue orb-shaped earrings, a peculiar attire that reminds you of a Victorian vampire- a long coat with feathers all the way down to his ankles and some funny boots. His calm expression while supposed to be relaxing, just increases the nausea in the pit of your stomach, he seems familiar with such processes. As for the place, it isn’t coming to your aid either, you can’t recognize what this place used to be (a warehouse? a prison? an actual cave for outcasts in the city suburbs?). You feel the known sensory feeling well up in your eyes, it’s starting to become serious.
‘’W-what to do you want?’’ you utter, unable to scream (you could but see no point)
‘’Are your hands in pain my darling?’’ his eyes look over your tied wrist with concern as he flinches looking at the knot. ‘’I told Feitan to go easy on you.’’ ‘’Well.. he just never listens.’’
‘’What do you want from me?’’ you cry out, why is he not responding to your questions? You want to scream and beg him to let you go, he didn’t assault you so what does he even want? You had no use to a person, as far as you knew, an unessential addition to people’s lives.
Fuck, what is he doing?
‘’My sweet darling..’’ he murmurs as he prolongs the sentence, his words making the bile rise in your esophagus and travel to your mouth, your nausea from the drugging never really went away. What sick game was this?
‘’Please excuse the sudden change of heart after our brief encounter at [ ]. I was hoping you can understand that I wanted you here today for a very special reason.’’ he starts and your heart’s thrumming, as you silently beg him to get to the point. You want out of there and do not want to participate in any sick games.
‘’Please!’’ you yelp frustrated ‘’ just tell me.’’
‘’How about I show you? Hmm?’’ he responds, his velvety voice making you gag. ‘’Shalnark!’’ he calls and a blonde guy (boy?) makes an appearance holding a.. tripod and a digital camera, which he sets right next to him, adjusting the tripod’s legs and connecting the mounting head with the camera.
‘’Everything's set up, anything else boss?’’ this guy literally beams, what kind of a sick farce is this? Who the fuck is the man and what did the guy mean with fucking boss?
‘’W-what is this?’’ you yelp but ‘boss’ has his a attention directed at the blonde guy.
‘’Think you’re forgetting something, Shalnark..’’ he playfully mocks the boy and the boy’s eyes light up as if having a sudden godlike revelation.
‘’You’re so right boss!’’ he widely smiles as he exits.
‘’W-what are you gonna do?’’ you are shamelessly crying at this point, the psychotic simulation you’re in only prolonging your misery, you are feeling so indescribably anxious of your life you and start wishing it would’ve been a date rape.
The boy comes back and this time he is holding a wireless microphone, which he passes to the ‘boss’, his name unknown and not your concern at the moment as he wordlessly leaves you once again to his mercy.
‘’Now, sweetheart’’ you flinch at the choice of words, ‘’I would like for you to hold this right here.’’ he tells you indicating the microphone ‘’I’m gonna untie you, please think carefully of your next move’’ he coos as he comes close to you, removing the ropes and freeing your bruised wrists. Your eyes flicker, should you try this? He knows. He sees you. He is a Specialist after all, he has a reason. The split second your left foot is turned towards his right side, a wide knife with a sharp blade is pressed to your neck, while you’re being headlocked to his sides. This happens so fast you hardly have time to comprehend it.
‘’Sweetheart’’ he sighs. ‘’ The knife’s not just sharp, it’s also poisonous, I will have you know, so please behave.’’ He goes about it as if he deals with things like that daily, you feel your legs trembe and almost bend to snap but he lifts you up and places you back to your initial spot. What kind of a psychotic freak has a poisonous knife on them? And why are his reflexes so fast?
‘’Will you please hold this microphone, darling?’’ he patiently asks again, as he hands you the microphone, your hands shaking as you take it and look at him with your eyes wide.
‘’Now’’ he smiles. ‘’We’ll go over the script, oh it’s been such a long time since I’ve done this!’’ he exclaims looking.. happy? Seriously, what is wrong with him?
He hands you over a paper with a language you can’t understand and small dialogues, you take it it’s a German variation, as there’s these funny dots over the vowels but it also has some incomprehensible words and you can’t make the distinction. On the bottom there’s this image of some superheroes with cleaning devices, a broom, a mop and shit like that. Is he mental? Nothing makes sense and you feel exhausted as you try to negotiate a way out. Maybe he is just a freak who wants his stupid script played out, maybe it’s that. Maybe you will be able to be free, to see your cat again. Maybe.
‘’W-will you.. p-please ..let me go.. after?’’ you whimper, ready to hear the worst when he simply replies
‘’My precious, of course! Please grant me this favor and I will set you free immediately, I ask for you to forgive such gestures on my behalf, it just happens that they mean so much to me’’ as you suspiciously eye him up, this is not a time for bargains though so you’ll comply to the freak’s needs.
You start reciting as he cuts you off. ‘’More passion, my angel, you need to say it aloud, shout out the line!’’ and you sniff, what a fucking weirdo.
He makes you retake the incoherent dialogues multiple times, cutting you off, correcting you, shouting at you for not waiting for his part (he assigned himself the leader role, god complex of course.)
It is around the middle of the play, when you mispronounce a word that he seems agitated and he approaches you. He slaps your face with vigor, an ominous stare, his eyes burning as you let the microphone fall from his hand’s impact.
‘’You mispronounced this, she’d never do that.’’ he spits and you start feeling a new round of tears forming in your eyes, who she was and what you had to do with her not making sense in your mind. You start sobbing as you mewl out brokenly.
‘’I-im sorry, we..w-we can redo this, please..’’ and he stares at you, the same pitiful expression on his face. He doesn't look upset anymore, all that pent up anger left him, the more he looked at your pretty eyes, how could he stay mad at you? You were after all the person he used to care the most for. A veiny hand approaches your now disheveled pigtails (pigtail in actuality, as one hairtie had fallen off during your abduction) and his fingers twirl around it. His lower half close to your face as you look up at him. He is absentmindedly staring at your hair when he kneels down to your height.
‘’I’m sorry’’ he smiles. ‘’Would you forgive me, my darling?’’ his breath fanning on your red cheek and parted mouth. Tears are staining your cheeks as he swipes his thumb over them to clean you. The proximity gives you chills, his voice ethereal and his composure remarkable and you hesitantly avert your eyes as you gulp.
‘’Y-yes, sir’’ you whisper, ‘l-let’s continue this’’ you were eager to be let free, eager for this twisted game to end.
‘’No, we shall not occupy ourselves with my play, Sarasa’’ he tells you. Who the fuck is Sarasa? And what did you have to do with her?
You didn’t like this proximity, it made you anxious, his hands were cupping your jaw as he stood up and tightly grasped around the loosened up pigtail.
A prominent bulge was decorating his pants and while you tried averting your eyes, you couldn't help but notice it. His finger grazed over your lips as he slid one in your mouth, observing you from above the whole time, a sigh escaping his lips when he heard you gag.
‘’Suck on it’’ he orders, ‘’please.. darling’’
There was no plea in this tone, just authoritative command. You did as asked and he readjusted his legs. You knew what was coming and you wanted this to be over, there was no escape but if sucking him off meant you got to be free you’d be more than willing to do that.
He unzips his pants, sliding them down together with his boxers as his cock springs free, he is probably the biggest you've ever seen and you feel anxious thinking of him in your mouth. He must’ve noticed because he chuckles and approaches you. You were about to start the lewd act when he stepped aside and tied your wrists behind your back again. You were left with your mouth hanging open, a victim to his merciless desires as he put his fingers in your mouth again. Your saliva coats the digits, which he removed and placed tentatively on his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you, stricken with fear and quivering, his good Sarasa, how he had failed to protect her, as he continues to leisurely jerk himself off in front of you. The scene is lewd, his naked torso protruding over his ridiculously oversized feather coat, his cock oozing his precum and making squishy sounds coming in contact with your saliva from his hands and his face looks tormented, as his head's arched back and slow ‘’im sorry’’s repeatedly exit his mouth. You feel a sting in your core looking at him and the vague bile you had in your throat makes you audibly gag. How can you be thinking like this right now? But your body isn't run by your superego, your moral compass doesn't dictate your body’s needs as your legs are unconsciously brought together to rub and alleviate the aching pain.
He is getting himself off, glancing at you, knowing you drink him in and his strokes are faster as he touches your lips with his thumb and parts your mouth only for his angry cock to slam against your throat without a warning, thrusting in and out of you as he hisses and grabs your head to push your mouth (and nose) all the way down his pubes, he wants his release and wants it now. You can't breathe or shout or protest in any way, only wiggling your tied hands and crying out in pain, which comes off as groans that reverberate on his dick and he crumbles, falling apart, moaning and shooting all his cum down your throat while snots and tears fall on his cock and he slowly removes himself.
‘’What a mess you made, darling’’ he sighs.
You were responsible for this?
‘’I hope the camera is still on, because I am intending to punish you, Sarasa’’ he said. ‘’You only had one line, my angel, one line in the entire play and you couldn't make it. You know how much this upsets me?’’ his voice almost broke, the ordeal of the situation messing you up even more.
You seriously couldn’t understand him at all, you wanted to get out, your throat already hurting from his penetration and fearing for the next part. You knew it would involve sex and shuddered at the realization he would have to touch you.. down there. The thought that you had been wet up until he came in your mouth, the fact that he would soon enough know this, the fact that you had been involuntarily aiding his mission by complying to his fetishing needs made you feel vile but you had no time to process that as you felt two arms cutting the ropes quickly, letting you free from the chair you were tied to.
You jump up before realizing it, you’ll run you think (you really don't have time to think, you act solely on instinct) but his agility prevails once again, quick reflexes have your neck choked as he grabs you from behind, the knife with the black handle against your carotid as you halt.
‘’This was my last warning, sweetheart, please comply before it’s too late.’’
He is dragging you back, forcing you to turn around, his cock still free and semi hard, was he seriously turned on again by your futile attempts for freedom? What a sick person he was.
He languidly sits on the chair (your chair) with his coat draping and touching the floor as he positions you on his bare lap. You draw a sharp breath, as you feel him under you, a disgusting cock rubbing your clothed entrance as he sighs and pulls you in an embrace. He smells like cedar, you think, cedar and sweat as he brings his lips to yours, connecting them softly. You keep them shut, your eyes open as he senses it and quickly pulls away. ‘’Darling, why don’t you kiss me?’’ he nags. You feel a sharp blade run down your sides, his knife trailing your torso, from your sides to your spine as he brings his lips close again. Your skirt reminds him of hers and it makes him desperate for closure, his aching cock touches your panties connecting your heat to his naked cock and making you softly whine, sounds you can't control.
‘’Please..’’ he whispers and you connect your lips to him. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your freedom is close but the more you think about it, the more anxious you become and his masochistic tendencies leave no space for slip ups. His mouth devours yours, as it clashes against you, his tongue overlapping yours (of course he'd be in control) while the knife rests on your lower back. You start grinding down his length, hands digging at the roots of his hair as you feel yourself lubricated against your will, you wanted this to be over, that’s what you tell yourself.
With a hand behind your back holding the knife and the other one free, he decides to feel your silky softness, test it for himself, his good girl, how obedient she is under his touch, how eager to be punished for her wrongdoings. He teases your entrance, as he smears the wetness gathered around your lips, you choke on a moan, your still functioning conscious (and pride) making you want to stay silent but that's impossible with a hand around your clit, a finger sliding with ease inside your walls, curling up and poking inside you. The knife also doesn't leave you with another choice.
‘’I want you to call out my name’’ he hums as he continues his rhythm, you are coming undone on his fingers.
‘’W-what’s your name sir?’’ you manage to breathe out in between thrusts, you’ve been trying to simultaneously fuck youself on his fingers, the pressure building up steadily within you.
‘’Chrollo’’
What a funny name.
‘’P-please.. Chrollo’’ you whimper, it's when he decides to remove his fingers from you.
‘’Oh, Sarasa’’ he sighs, ‘’you’ve misbehaved enough today, I really wanted to punish you, you know?’’
‘’N-no, p-please, Chrollo’’ you purr his name. At this point calling you Sarasa doesn't even bother you, you got accustomed to it some time ago.
Something in the way you hum his name makes a flicker appear in his eyes and he wordlessly drops the knife, as he squeezes his cock to line up with your soaked entrance.
‘’Don’t think I don’t have other means to restrain you, darling’’ he mutters and pulls you down on his cock, giving you no time to adjust to his girth, the head slamming against your insides as you let out a lewd moan.
‘’S-sir’’ you moan, as you're sucking him in, taking every inch as best as you can given the circumstance, you are dripping down his length, as his large palms viciously grope and slap your ass, smashing your hips down his pubic bone. Your pretty face bouncing atop him, wide eyes (oh these eyes) looking at his now fully darkened ones and he watches his pretty girl come apart, soft moans leaving your smudged lips, pigtails now fully disheveled as your hair bounces on your delicate shoulders. He observes your mouth, how beautiful it looks each time it curves and smiles at him, each time you’d tell him ‘’Look at what I found!’’ excitedly, a tape among the junkyard, a broken toy, you were his favorite companion. Chrollo feels himself jerk within your walls, you're wrapping him tightly and he won't last long.
‘’Come for me, darling’’ he hisses, pushing your hips in a way that has your clit touching his lower abdomen, you are gripping his hair fervently as you let out small ‘f-fuck’ s (involuntarily- at least thats what you told yourself) and rock yourself on his length.
He is inching you closer to your relief despite your disdain and you can tell he is there with you, parted mouth leaving shaky, pleading blabbers, as he grabs your hair and twists it in his palm, tugging at it harshly. You are forced to throw your head back so it gives him the opportunity to assault your neck, sucking and biting on it, the sensation tingling and arousing as you split apart, an orgasm taking over you.
‘’C-chrollo’’ you sing, pleasing him and making him groan and shoot his cum once again inside you, your core spasms and tightens around him, clit pulsating and muscles taut as he thrusts upwards to fill you up as much as anatomically possible, his overflowing cum seeping from your hole onto his thighs. He marked you his twice and he doesn't think he'd ever forget.
‘’My good girl’’ he exhals shakily, ‘’my precious little girl’’ he continues, rubbing softly on your back, as your weight falls on him, the knife tossed behind him looking at you as you shut your eyes.
-
Chrollo lets you go. He doesn’t order you a ride of course or have the blonde guy escort you. You have to walk 45 exhausting minutes to find a bus stop and even then, you hardly recognise the area.
Chrollo leaves for the next 6 months, he doesn’t communicate anything to the rest of the Troupe, people overestimate their closeness. He replays your video every night while he’s away fighting and earning (stealing) abilities, your beautiful, expressive eyes haunt his dreams, Sarasa would like you if she met you. Sarasa would make friends with you. Sarasa, you. What's the difference?
He comes back only to find you sleeping, so peacefully he rejoices at the sight. Absolutely perfect and innocent, he tainted you and you didn’t even care? He smiles. He tells himself you're a bad girl for sleeping with your doors unlocked, just like Sarasa liked to wander on her own and look at where that got her. Maybe the door wasn’t unlocked, it’s something he finds irrelevant now. He had kept his promise, he thinks. You should be grateful he’s honest.
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