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I write requested stories, oneshots and fanfics

[silk-carnage]

Masterlist for all my writtings! The Favourite Trick Part-1 Part-2 Part-3 Hisoka's POV Clawclip part-1 part-2 Headcanons Requested JJBA Requested Domestic!Hisoka BSD Requested Fiction a/n: so i want you all to know, i won't be taking any smut requests because i absolutely suck at writing it. I'll be writing mild romantic scenes though.(kissing, hugging etc., even humping but with clothes on lmao)

[silk-carnage]

ACCEPTING ONESHOT/HEADCANON REQUESTS!!!!

[silk-carnage]

The Favourite Trick

The backroom of the Troupe's hideout. Chrollo had asked Hisoka to clean her up after that outrage in front of everyone. She had fainted, Karl's blood covering her face.

When Hisoka "takes care" of her, it's like he's dressing up a doll. Too sharp, clinical and indifferent of her nudity. He placed her body on a make-bed out of blankets and towels, and gently washed away all the blood on her feet and face with a washcloth, slow and precise. He wrapped her body in yet another piece of sack, because the Troupe didn't exactly keep spare change of clothes around. While securing the brown garment around her waist, he notices how she is healed completely, only small, almost invisible slashes left. That is when he stops and takes a full look at her. She was lying there, completely healed. Those eyes, that were just raging at the 5th most powerful member of the troupe, were now swollen, closed and resting. He stops, his fingers hovering over her cheekbone. She had used her own, raw will and malice to turn a single clue into a disaster. She had turned into a beast, too stubborn, full of pride and apathetic even. He remembers that smile, that giggle that left her lips when she was almost miraculously putting an end to Karl.

That lunacy, That was true beauty to Hisoka. And for a rare second, as Hisoka marvels at the monster he made, he stops smiling at all. His expression is still coy and dangerous as ever, never being gentle or caring-- but too interested. Too dead set on breaking her one day.

And that is why he sits back in an iron chair, after tucking her hair cleanly behind her ears, sitting in front of her as long as she slept. Captivated. The Magician had found his new, favourite toy.

a/n: This is a side series that I started with "The Favourite Trick" where i show Hisoka's side of the story and instances where he goes crazy over the reader! To get the full context of the story, please read the Favourite Trick! also, Her = Reader

[silk-carnage]

Hey guys!! Something i wanted you all to know first of all Part 3 is here please check it out <3 and second, I made some changes in part 1 and part 2 cuz i just rewatched HxH and turns out i totally got Pakunoda's dynamics wrong. I fixed that. Also i changed Kael's name to Karl cuz Kael was a bit too hard for me to pronounce lmao. Please check out all the 3 parts of my story ! an AU where Hisoka's choice creates its consequence (fem!readerXhisoka)

[silk-carnage]

The Favourite Trick

Setting: Hisoka X Fem!reader AU where Hisoka’s choices create their consequence. Warnings: torture, trauma, violence, blood, manipulation, emotional distress, psychological themes, light body horror (injuries, healing), minor character death, morally gray dynamics. word count: 2969 words

┏━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┓┏━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┓ The sight was still fresh in their minds.

When the Leader had asked them to meet at that abandoned building, all the 14 members came, one by one.

And the 3rd in the hierarchy, stepped in with chains in his hands that were clasped around a girl in her 20s. Injured, violated and tired. She could barely walk, and was dragged around. Karl had stepped, in all lordly and conceited. He was the newest member, after the Jester. They didn't knew much about him, but after staying there with him, it was child's play to guess who he is.

He was a narcissistic, sadist, and a pure tormenter. And he wasn't the kind who'd hide it, he was a bit too prideful about it.

The troupe members were used to such people, but not the slave. Though it wasn't a problem if he doesn't drags her around in missions and slows them. None of them gave a damn about the slave and her screams, until they stopped. The day you managed to look in his eyes and actively defy him.

That was the day the Troupe finally thought about you for a split second, but quickly dismissed you as a broken toy.

But they had never thought, you would ever be standing in front of them, in front of Karl, openly challenging him. Heck, even Karl had never though about it. But that just made his chest swell with something too malice for you to understand. It just made him want to break you more, show you your place and ruin you all over again.

You were just standing there, ready to fulfil your promise you made to him, to tear Karl apart, avenge your mother, and take back your freedom.

And that is when Karl asks you, still amused and laughing too loud, to try first. To show him "what you got". You just got too lucky, because any other way would basically mean suicide.

You just walk to the other corner of the room to pick up a glass shard.

You were still weak, very weak. At the absolute brink of your life even, you were training for days without food, and the only thing that kept you alive was your sheer will and the life energy.

Karl watches you with an insufferable grin plastered on his face, as you struggle to drag your feet against the floor. You stop only a single step away from his personal space, and scar him with the glass shard on his neck.

The shallow scrape bled poorly, crimson fluid surfacing and streaming down. Karl's face is disgusted. He visibly shudders and pushes you away, that sends you thrown to the floor.

The troupe watches bewildered, even a little uninterested, as you lazily drag yourself against the floor, away from Karl and stand up.

You shudder, tearing up as you look at Karl. All of it comes rushing back to you. The pain, the humiliation, the insult.

You felt a manic euphoria, to be able to get him to crumble in front you, and you couldn't help but smile like mad person, pupils dilated, breath ragged. You thought you'd die from the high.

And all you had to do was look at his wounds and his helpless figure.

Karl was confused, but then he felt it, a sensation of being teared open, but agonisingly slow. He instinctively touched the scar on his neck, only to find it larger than before, the blood staining his clothes.

Karl shouts at you, loud, frantic and disturbed, but it just gets worse. The pain becomes unbearable and he drops to his knees. The wound only gets deeper.

Your chest heaves and your eyes are wide open with anger, fixated on Karl's bleeding form, slashed and on the verge of tearing apart.

His blood washes your bare feet, and you giggle, covering your mouth, your hand gripping your face a bit too tightly. The rage and the triumph is engulfing you whole.

You suddenly drop to your knees, maybe because you were too weak to stand upright, or too excited. You crawl to him on your knees. You grab his head by his hair, bringing your face dangerously close to his.

"I was still curious though, you'd said you'd finish me the next time you returned, right? What now? What happened? Why didn't you kill me?"

Karl's screams are now muffled into chokes, he can not speak anymore for the slash is now halfway through his windpipe. Your innocent act only makes you more feral and you laugh a little more,

"What an entitled little piece of shit! I asked you something, fucking answer me!" You rage at him, standing up to kick his face a few times.

"Now, tell me, you want me to kill you? Want me to end your miserable life?"

He doesn't answer, he can't.

Across the room, the Troupe members exchange silent, sharp glances. They aren't even sure if he's still alive. He is lying there, entirely too still in a growing pool of dark red.

But you can feel his aura. You can tell his lungs are still desperately fighting for oxygen, you could tell he was still breathing. So you casually grab him by the wrist and use all the force left in you to drag him to the room where he'd kept you all this time, in those chains.

You kicked him inside the room, glanced at him one last time and walked away into the light.

You enter the hall again, where everyone looks at you. The man with the sword was leaning against a large stone, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and groaning while scratching his neck,

"Finally over huh? They were loud as fuck."

The other members can only give you a silent look of something between amusement and acceptance.

You look around to find that magician because you didn't know if you'd even be alive after fainting, so for one last time, you had to search for him. And your eyes land on his form. Something entirely different hits you. Gratitude? Attachment? Safety? What is it?

Only one, single twisted thought could cross your mind:

"He saw my worth. He gave me this power to protect me. He gave me a way to avenge myself. This person, he protected me. I though I was surrounded with all these predators, but he is an outlier, maybe, maybe not…"

Your head swings and eyes go blurry and dark. With a nauseous, suffocated tightening in the chest, you fall to the ground with a thud.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

The body was like a skeleton. Each and every bone of her frame was visible, and the skin was paper thin. Going without any kind of nutrition all while training with Nen had ripped the body of its mass. The bones had no density and muscle tissue were minimal. It seemed her body fed on all her mass just to keep herself alive.

Machi walks to the limp body of the girl lying on the floor, crouching next to it and pressing two fingers against the pulse point on her neck. Phinks breaks the silence, cracking his knuckles "Burned out all her life energy all at once. What do we do with her Boss? Toss her next to Karl?"

Machi tracks the faint aura leaving the body and weak pulse. She sharply looks over at Phinks "Leave her as is, she's still alive." And then with a clinical gaze she looks at Chrollo. "Boss, she just killed a troupe member, according to the rules, shouldn't she be given his number?"

Chrollo is silent, legs crossed, casually flipping the pages of his book, eyes dark and calculating. "I can't say for sure. She just killed him because of the torture. And we all allowed that. There is a chance that she may harbour the same hostility towards all of us. Before she becomes a part of us, we need to test her loyalty."

All of them agreed and it was a declaration. The girl would either be a member of the troupe, or refuse and write a death warrant for herself.

Sitting far off next to Franklin, Shizuku tilts her head to a side. "But I still don't get it, how did she acquire Nen?"

Without any second thought everyone else looked at Hisoka, who was lounging at that window sill casually, flicking play cards. He smiles goofily, "Oh dear, I wonder why everyone is looking at me with those eyes? ♣️"

Machi stands up and looks at him, "We all know that you've got something to do with it."

Uvogin laughs loudly, "Hisoka, why'd you teach Nen to a kid like that? If you were just trying to kill time, you should've just fought me instead!"

Hisoka jumps off the ledge and walks over, the joker card sliding down his sleeves. His eyes narrow as they land on the girl, kneeling beside her. His long, pale fingers grab her chin, and he licks his bottom lip, gaze settling

on her face, amused and chilling.

Phinks steps forward, clicking his neck "Why would you do that? You scheming somethin' against us? Ya freak?

Hisoka slides his arms under her knees and back, to swoop the girl's body in his arms, and looks over at the members. "It was just a little game~♣️"

Phinks clicks his tongue and turns around "Tsk, figures, you really are a sick bastard." Thr troupe accepts that for an answer too easily, because that is exactly what they expect from Hisoka.

"It doesn't matter," Chrollo says, his voice perfectly calm, steady, and terrifyingly cold. "Karl was weak, and the Spider has no use for weak legs. She survived the baptism and eliminated him. By our laws, his number belongs to her now."

He looks directly at Hisoka, his expression unreadable. "Take her to the back room, Hisoka. Clean her up. When she wakes up, we will see if she is capable of following orders. If she cannot… you can dispose of her yourself."

He turns and carries her down the dark corridor, away from the rest of the executioners, her feet dirty but stained with pure blood.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

The faint scent of card-printing ink and overwhelming, suffocating pressure, wraps around you like a comfortable blanket, as you slowly stir awake.

The first thing you see upon opening your eyes is a frame sitting in the far corner, illuminated by a single ray of light coming from the window next to him. It was the Magician from earlier. You let out a soft, assured sigh.

Looking around, your hands were covered with raw gauze, as you lie on a pile of blankets. Every joint pops and your muscle hurts as they try to support your body weight. You look at yourself, fingers thin, bones visible under a sheath of fragile, wrinkled skin. Your fingers reach your face and you can easily touch your eye sockets, and your hair is mostly gone and fragile.

You are the absolute limit of human exhaustion. You were emaciated. Your heart dropped looking at yourself like that, how things had turned out to be. You felt weak and helpless all over again. You were worried that maybe you would have to live off someone else's mercy once again.

But then you remember that room, Karl and his screams, your ability, and how you had left him in that room, to suffer the pain until he bled so much that he couldn't stay alive.

And you can't help but smile, all wide, ear to ear.

But suddenly, it feels too suffocating to breathe. Heavy pressure expands making your head quirk up to look at his direction.

The magician, he was smiling too. But it was a lot more horrific than yours. Half crescent smile, pupils dilated as he looked straight at you. You felt bloodlust, and figured that they might want to kill you since you just killed one of their members.

You swallow and ask him, "You're gonna kill me, right?"

The Jester looks at you, and pouts exaggeratedly. He slumps back against the wall and starts shuffling his cards again.

"Kill you for Karl? Oh, you wound me, little bird.♦️" The pressure of this aura hasn't faded, but just changed into something dangerous but playful. "Do you really think I care about that noisy piece of shit?" He completes and you almost break into a smile too innocent for him.

It felt good knowing the person you respected the most also shared the same views about the person you hated the most. It was too perfect. coming from someone who you admired.

But the next thing he says runs chills down your spine, and your daydreaming stops all at once.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it while you were sleeping. I don't eat fruit when it's green and sour… I wait for it to ripen."

There he goes, talking about fruit and them being ripe. Obviously, you knew people don't eat fruits that aren't sweet. What does that have got to do with this situation. Is he crazy?

" I would enjoy killing you later, not right now. Not when a simple gust of wind could take your life." He points towards your shrivelled hands.

"Right now, if you can walk, you should go outside to see if Chrollo lets you have Karl's seat. And if he doesn't, I'll have to change my mind~"

Without thinking, you step off the make-bed and try to stand on your feet. Your head swirls and everything blurs. You still feel a little dizzy. You need to survive this alive, and you were ready to agree to whatever conditions they'd give you.

You place a hand on a nearby wall and slowly walk towards the exit of the room. You stumble your way inside the great hall of the hideout, and gradually make your way in front of The Leader.

Behind you like a shadow, followed Hisoka. His expression was suddenly schooled, and an indifferent, playful expression took over as he tilts his head and flashes a smile at at the Leader.

The Boss slowly raises his head, his bottomless eyes looking straight at you. His long, silent stare confused you…

He was still measuring you, trying decide your utility, more like a scientist observing a fascinating new specimen that just crawled out of the lab. "Name" he starts, "Tell me your name. And tell me what your eyes do when you look at a man."

You brace yourself, take a deep breath. You won't tell him everything, just what he needs to know. "My name is Agneya" You can only be as loud as a whisper.. "My eyes, when I look at my opponent, can control the intensity of a wound inflicted on their body."

Half of what you told him was true, and the other half was made up. That name, belonged to one of your friends who lived in India.

Your true name was (Y/N) You had always been fascinated with the name, which meant "born of fire", and taking that wasn't just a quick lie, you felt like you earned it. The part of ability they know is also not complete, you don't always have to look at the person to activate your ability. That time, you just stared down Karl because of your own anger.

The Leader still looks at you, calculating, probably connecting your ability to Karl's death seamlessly. Behind you, the troupe falls into conversation.

"That sounds stupid, what if you aren't able to wound the enemy? Teh ability is completely useless then." Phinks spat, only to be met a glare by Machi who defends;

"Are you blind, Phinks? She needs something as shallow as a paper cut, if she pairs with someone like Nobunaga or Feitan, she can easily vipe out the enemy just by looking."

The Leader is as silent as ever. And that picks at your patience. You can not breath properly, and your head keeps swirling. If there was anything inside you, you would have vomit already. At all costs you need to get Karl's number and become a part of the group, because if that doesn't happen, they'll definitely kill you.

The Leader looks down at your emaciated frame, his expression remaining perfectly unreadable.

"The ability to manipulate an active wound is highly efficient," He says, in a smooth, terrifyingly calm melody.

"And your sheer willpower to survive proves your mind is built for combat. However… the Spider does not accept members who act on their own whims. You killed Karl out of a personal vendetta, not for the sake of the Spider."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a custom coin---the very coin the Troupe uses to settle all internal disputes when bloodlust is involved. On one side is the fourteen-legged spider; on the other, a blank face.

"We will let the coin decide your fate," The Boss looks at you, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "If it lands on the Spider, you will take Karl’s place as Member #3. You will be given food, shelter, and time to rebuild your body. But you will belong to the Spider, and you will obey my commands without question."

He tilts his head, his dark eyes locking onto your healed, defiant gaze. "If it lands on the blank face… you are a trespasser who murdered a leg of the Spider. And we will execute you where you stand."

You stood there, bewildered. Are they seriously going to let a single, stupid coin make a decision?! That's outrageous, I have never been good with luck. It's obviously gonna get me killed- you thought.

You mind was frantic and thoughts scrambled in panic, but you kept your calm and took a deep breath, watching the Boss toss the coin. If it landed in your favour, then good. If not? Well then you'd just have to work your ass off to save your life.

a/n: finally done with the devil of a chapter 😭I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I do not own any character except agney or Y/N. Do not copy. The ability of Agneya or Y/N is an original idea of mine and all right reserved. Hisoka banners are from pinterest and belong to their owners. Part-1 Part-2

[agneyaaaa]

it was my pervert husband's birthdayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy !!!

[silk-carnage]

hey! can u do a hisoka x femreader like just a couple life if ur comfortable with it! sorry its so boring and weird

OMG baby it's not boring or weird at all aaaaaaaa i usually love these kind of story tropes but tell you what Hisoka is not a couple guy ToT But dw, I'll give you oneee headcanons/ relationship alphabets work right?

domestic!hisoka whos a total pain in the ass just cause he wants to be, and short-circuits when you greet him with surface-level apathy and refuse to give him an ounce of emotional vulnerability. He loves peeling off that facade you put up just to entertain him. domestic!hisoka whos love language is ragebaiting. He'd purposefully knock over the laundry basket, hide your favourite underwear trouser around somewhere, change labels of containers kept in your kitchen with his Texture Surprise, doodle card suits on the washroom mirror with your favourite lip liner, "whisper" a bit too loudly-- the filthiest reminders of the nights you two had spent together specially in front of a bunch of people. All this scheming just to throw you off. domestic!hisoka who surprisingly enough makes you meals every time he thinks you've earned the service. Other than a fighting arena, he exhibits his theatrics on the kitchen top, refusing to cook like a normal person. He'd make you sit in front of the kitchen--hands on the table so he knows you're only focusing on him and his tricks, as he continues to toss knives in the air while lazily grabbing black pepper from the other side of the kitchen using his Bungee Gum. All effortless and elegant. And of course the meal is worth every second of waiting. domestic!hisoka who would prop his ass in front of your dressing table, sabotaging it as he paints his face all while looking you in the eye through mirror. He knows you need to get ready for an event, and that's exactly why he's wasting your time. domestic!hisoka who intentionally places Bungee Gum on your body, especially waist, ankles or wrists to paste you against him, suddenly initiating a cuddle session when he'd just successfully pissed you off. He knows you absolutely loath being touched or coddled when you are angry, which is again why he presses his chest against your back, burying his face in the space between your neck and shoulder from behind, his legs anchoring you down to the mattress. He can feel your blood seething and pulse sky rocketting. domestic!hisoka who would bring you souvenirs from fights if he's been away for a while. Don't expect something fancy-- sometimes its the queen of spades covered in dry blood, sometimes its a patch of his own skin he claims the enemy scraped off of him. domestic!hisoka who looks like a happy little kid when you tell him that you had been devising new NEN tricks just for him. He absolutely adores such kinds of "dates", where you both talk about the most dangerous mind games, and NEN tricks, try them at each other, listing all the NEN user you two could easily kill. domestic!hisoka who despite being the type to disappear after intimacy, looks at you with eyes as large as an owl, propped at the edge of the bed as he looks over his shoulder at you, when you'd just threatened to kill him if he doesn't stays after. domestic!hisoka who absolutely loves the kind of woman who could look him dead in the eye and tell him that she'll tear him apart if he doesn't provides comfort with his presence that she craves so much. A battle-sexual freak like him would love the way that sounds, and admit that it's the most romantic thing anyone could ever tell him. domestic!hisoka who would then gladly stay the night, keeping you notoriously pressed against him, whispering how his Bungee Gum works and how it's based off his favourite chewing gum, his choking bloodlust intact, keeping you enough on the edge. domestic!hisoka whose menacing grin fades just a bit into a coy, slow smile, when he watches you fall asleep comfortably in his arms, when his proximity would usually be considered threatening. He is reminded of all the times you'd counter-attack his tactics and deadpan at him, levelling with him as the teasing game continues. He loves that you see right through the magician's act of being lovely and sweet to hide his true, greedy intentions, and it’s the only time he feels truly understood.

a/n: bitch i honestly cooked with this one. Trust me keeping this idiot's canon dynamics intact while making it romantic is a little hard. But this time i think i nailed with the toxicity 😭😭 anyways, @nobodys-girl-that-is here is your request!! I hope you liked it, i am sorry for the late response but trust me this is fastest one yet lol. I hope you all enjoy!! All rights reserved, yada yada, don't copy my shit.

[silk-carnage]

The Favourite Trick

Setting: Hisoka X Fem!reader AU where Hisoka’s choices create their consequence. Warnings: torture, trauma, violence, blood, manipulation, emotional distress, psychological themes, light body horror (injuries, healing), minor character death, morally gray dynamics. (please read only if you’re comfy with heavy content!! <3) word count: 2k Part-1

Reframing is to express something differently.

To express something that’s already been committed is difficult— but that, too, is reframing.

Before leaving, the man from earlier returned again, sometime after you had regained consciousness.

His honeyed voice hums in your ears even now as you recall his words:

"What I slid into your hands... it is the delicious little key to your revenge. This is the very thing that makes Karl so magnificently powerful—the beautiful toy that allowed him to break you into such a delightful little mess. It is called... Nen. ♥️"

"Use it wisely, sweetheart~ Cultivate it into a delicious weapon, And the choice, of course, is entirely yours… ♥️ What delicious sort of blade will you carve it into?"

How were you supposed to sit and meditate with all these injuries?

How stupid, you think.

But then again— this is a completely different territory.

And anything you deem stupid is automatically genius.

So you sit down and recall. You summon it—literally drag out the rage, the raw fire flickering inside you.

Let it vent. Let it ignite.

And you feel it.

It’s as if you’re sitting on a bonfire—scorching and unnerving. You feel hot, a sting like thousands of needles inching into your skin. But beneath the pain, it leaves a sensation that makes you feel alive. Worthy.

Perhaps not ready.

You try to bring it to your eyes, thinking maybe—just maybe—it will do something.

But you fail, and the energy slips out of your control. You sit back, exhausted, breathing heavily. The pain intensifies and you groan.

A sigh leaves your lips; your hands fall limp.

It hadn’t been as rewarding as you expected. But it was a lesson—a flicker of hope, a flicker of strength. A weapon. A reason. Freedom.

And knowing that you now have a path to walk—a path that leads to Karl’s downfall—you simply can’t fucking stop.

You push through the night. Reconstructing. Building. Concentrating. Meditating. Learning. Screaming. Rehearsing.

And the coming dawn, finds you on the floor, unconscious.

…

You’re dragged back into consciousness by a firm but unexpectedly gentle touch. Your eyes snap open—too fast—and you jolt upright, cracking your head against the wall with a dull thud.

Before you can curse, a voice—one you’ve grown far too attached to for your own sanity—cuts through the haze:

“Oh, good news, sweetheart… you won’t have to face Karl for a whole, long month. Consider it a little present from me. ♣️

You freeze.

Your head drops, hair falling forward as you try to process the words through the ache in your skull.

“…What do you mean?” Your voice feels scraped raw on the way out.

“Thirty entire days all to yourself…,” he repeats, tone almost casual. “just to play, to grow, and to become something truly magnificent. ♥️”

You nod, but it’s stiff, hollow.

Training. If you could even call it that.

Last night had been nothing but pain and failure—your muscles screamed, your head burned. You’d collapsed, defeated, useless.

Your frustration spills over before you can stop it.

“I’m too weak for this. I barely have any food—only what Pakunoda manages to sneak in. And sometimes Karl takes even that. I go days without anything. How am I supposed to—” Your voice breaks. “—achieve anything like this?”

You hate the way it sounds. Small. Cornered. Too helpless, like a slave.

That familiar helplessness creeps up again, and you almost choke on it.

He hears it. Of course he hears it.

A low hum leaves him, thoughtful. Almost amused.

“In a pickle, aren’t we?” A soft exhale, you can't tell but maybe they're pouting “And here I thought Karl had given you enough hate to tear him apart.”

You almost growl in frustration.

Why does he always speak like this? Why does every sentence feel like a riddle?

He leans closer—presence heavy, voice soft but cutting.

“I suggest that you should use what you have the most right now, sweetheart. Show me your resolve, will you?♣️"

You feel his gaze settle on you, warm, uncomfortably knowing. You scoff under your breath, irritation prickling at your skin.

He laughs—quiet, velvet-soft, annoyingly pleased.

“I shouldn’t talk to you this often,” he murmurs. “I might just find myself falling right under Karl’s watchful regard, long before you're ripe enough, and we wouldn't want that, would we?~~”

And just like that— he’s gone.

Leaving the air colder. Leaving you, once again, with nothing but his words.

…

You try to follow his instructions.

Each dawn, you practice—your strength tempered by repetition. You fail, learn, work, succeed, and repeat. With Karl gone, Pakunoda brings food every day, maybe because she was told so. She didn't look like someone who'd be kind enough to treat an outsider like this.

She may be empathetic, loyal, kind and all the good things, but only to this group who'd kept you captive. No one else could step through her cold shield until it's a member of the troupe.

Regardless, if she keeps visiting, she will know what you're doing, and she's still loyal to her group, so can't let that happen. hence, in the last few days, you stop letting her—or anyone—visit. No one knows what you’re becoming.

Your advancements are many. Most tears and slashes have healed. The largest wounds have shrunk, the pain easing.

These thirty-one days took much from you, and you gave everything in return. By the end, you were ready—with the rules of your reframed game.

Ready for Karl.

.....

But perhaps he was not ready for you. It was evident, as he stood at the doorway of the room he had locked you in, stunned.

He had barged in expecting a victim. Weak, hurt, pained and at his mercy.

Instead, he found you— healed.

Completely.

As if reversed to your original state.

Not a single mark of the horrors he had carved into you had remained.

Karl felt that helpless, irritated rage— the same feeling he had when you stopped reacting to his torture. When his purpose was discontinued.

And you grin—wide—like the fallen angel rising as the Devil. Your eyes were also healed, you could see now. And the satisfaction of seeing Karl's long face, confused and pathetic, makes your chest swell.

Others gather behind him, speechless. Shocked at the sight.

Not dramatically—just a sudden, vicious stillness, the kind that predators fall into when the forest goes quiet. Eyes narrow, unbelieving dull faces light up with curiosity..

Disbelief ripples through them like a cold wind. Even their usual casual arrogance falters.

Because they remember the wreck Karl had made. They remember the blood.

And now you stand here, whole. The atmosphere thickens, charged, electric.

Someone speaks from the back in a dull, low voice: “Take her to boss. He find her fascinating.”

Karl protests, claiming you as his 'slave' who he wants to share with no one.

The argument between the other members and him didn't last long, and a coin was flipped, and ended with Karl turning silent.

And they take you— Karl held the chain that were wrapped around your wrists, and the others follow.

You stand before their leader, seated in a well-lit hall lined with gothic candle stands. The hall is dim and cavernous. Your footsteps echo, too loud in the cold air. Conversations stop instantly. The rest of the troupe turns toward you—not individually, but as one organism—attention snapping tight, sharp, animalistic. A ripple moves through them: confusion, interest, something like wariness. On the far steps, the person who you thought was probably their leader, closes his book with a soft click. Stained glass behind him casts fractured light over his stillness. His eyes sweep over you once, slow and exacting. His posture perfect, a cross around his neck, a book in his hand—he looks far more composed than the others.

A beat. Then, softly—almost kindly— “How extraordinary, she healed herself mysteriously.”

The room holds its breath.

Nods ripple through the group. Karl stands petrified. They speak to their leader, tease Karl, fall into side conversations.

But you wonder— where is the silk-voiced man from earlier?

You scan the room. You expected him to be more interested in you. As he was, from the very start...

You notice a Jester, lounging on a windowsill, casually flicking his cards. A pink-haired girl with a tired expression. Another girl with glasses, gothic and unbothered. A giant. A small man. A mummy. A ponytailed freak.

All real freaks. And Karl had the audacity to call you one.

Your gaze lands on him—bewildered, offended, stunned.

You enjoy the sight, even grin menacingly.

Karl notices. His disgust sharpens.

"I see your smile, you rat."

Your eyes pierce his; your smirk widens.

“What can I do? I love this new look on your face. Utterly humbled and shattered.” You retort, almost unbothered.

"When did you think you could talk back, brat?" Karl simmers with barely held rage- "I can still put you in your place"

"Try, Karl. Please, try.." You stoke the fire deliberately with a mocking voice that drags sweetly. Everyone around the two of you go silent, attention snapping back to you.

The bloodlust in Karl's eyes chills the room— and for a second, you felt attacked, but for a second.

And that gets on his nerve.

And he retorts with his hand cracking across your cheek. For a brief moment, your head spins to the side along with the momentum of his movement and pain blooms, but you return to staring down his eyes.

Your anger surges, spilling into the hall. The atmosphere darkens—thick, suffocating, powerful. Some shiver. Some freeze. None of them knew that you were capable of such presentation of rage.

All the legs of the spider are surprised and you could say even freaked out.

But only one of them is, aroused.

But Karl?

Karl is silent, and enraged. Everyone knows that menacing look in his eyes when something goes out of his control. Karl lives for command, dominance and for oppressing others. But seeing you harness a bloodlust nearly as terrifying as his, he feels offended, demeaned and mocked. That meant you weren't as weak as he thought of you to be. Or he wasn't as strong as he thought of himself.

Karl raises his hand in some gesture. It wasn't much familiar to you, but the look on the troupe member's faces told you it wasn't something friendly.

Suddenly, the Jester moves between you and Karl, blocking the view—an arm outstretched, not defending, but commanding.

Karl snaps his attention to him. You reel your energy back.

"What is it, you freak?" He argues, but the Jester’s silk-laden voice cuts clean:

“I’m afraid I had to step in.”

The voice slices through the tension—silky, playful, unmistakable.

Your breath stutters.

That tone. That cadence. That satin mockery.

You’ve heard it before.

Not here.

But back in that room where you'd transformed. From a victim to Yourself. You heard the voice as a teacher, perhaps? Or as someone's to whom you will be indebted, for life, at least.

Your stomach drops.

So that was him all along.

He spares you a look of some approval and then he speaks again, stepping forward, amusement dripping from every word:

“By the looks of it, you were going to kill her.” A pause—one he stretches deliberately, savouring. “But Karl… you should know…” His smile is audible. “I want to fight this girl when she’s ripe enough for me to feast.”

It takes you a little time to register.

Feast?

What does that mean? What does he mean 'ripe enough to feast'?

Is he going to use you, in some sort of wicked and disgusting way?

Whatever the reason may be, thinking about it makes your skin go cold.

Because now you know— the man standing between you and revenge,

is not an angel.

He is a weirdo.

You stare, thinking what his true motives might be, as he tries to pursue Karl.. who, shockingly enough, backs off.

The shift is immediate—like someone loosened a noose around the whole room. Breaths release. Shoulders drop. Even the murderous aura thins out, retreating like a tide.

But inside you, something snaps.

It’s small at first—something that feels empty and irritating Then it swells, sharp and molten, rising like a wave that refuses to be swallowed.

Because this—this—is wrong. This tastes too much like surrender. You seriously wanted to kick his ass.

Your body moves before your mind can leash it.

“No.”

The word cuts through the air with a clarity that startles even you. It sounds like a blade drawn in a silent room.

You swallow once, collecting the remnants of restraint gathering in your throat, but your eyes never leave Karl’s.

“I’ll fight Karl.” Your voice is steadier than earlier, with your heart hammering against your ribs like it’s trying to break free. “I want to fight him.”

Karl’s laughter erupts—wild, echoing, too loud, too sharp. And some of the people in the room follow him.

But The tension tightens, thickens, coils around the walls.

Because something in your voice wasn’t a challenge.

It was a verdict.

And everyone can feel it. The weight of it. The inevitability of it.

Karl laughs. But nonetheless, it was clear that the moment you spoke, the air shifted again—this time not loosening, but locking into place. There was an execution waiting to happen.

You face Karl again.

“Laughing won’t help you, Karl. Man up— and fight your victim”

The jester doesn't moves. He stands there, fingers digging into his fists. Something about him seems off to you. His demeanour changed, he looked like a maniac. Though that was the case with him mostly but now, he looked feral. As if he's loving how things are turning out to be. Love or lust, you aren't sure. Because there are a few people who love to fight. And next to zero who have a lust to fight..

_____________________________________________________________

[silk-carnage]

The Favourite Trick

Setting: Hisoka X Fem!reader AU where Hisoka’s choices create their consequence. Warning: torture, trauma, violence, blood, manipulation, emotional distress, psychological themes, light body horror (injuries, healing), minor character death, morally gray dynamics. (please read only if you’re comfy with heavy content!! <3) A/n: I am backkkkkkkkk, with my darling Hisoka. It's gonna be a long story I am telling you. Since, again, it's my first time ever righting such long stories, they may be rushed. I'll try to keep them as entertaining as possible. The storyline is really fun, I swear. Like we are soooo main character here ehhaha. Hope you enjoy, keep reading pookies <3

You push yourself up from the ground as you hear the door sway open. Pakunoda enters. Her sharp, prominent nose caught the faint light from the corridor, and her golden eyes looked down at you with a complete, chilling absence of emotion.

With a lazy, fluid motion of her long fingers, she tossed a small, plastic-wrapped package onto the dust-covered concrete a few inches from your face. It was a standard, high-calorie survival ration—a block of dense, dry nutrient paste and a small, unbranded plastic bottle of plain water.

She pauses and just stares. A young girl, clothes barely covering her wound-inflicted, blood-stained body. Scars stare back sharply from wherever the spectator's eyes land. Face drained of any colour, her eyes aren't functional — they're tired of bleeding. Where eyes should have glimmered, there were only charred hollows, dark and unblinking. The skin around them was scorched, cracked, and red — like the aftermath of fire — and even the faintest twitch of the eyelids sent tiny shimmers across the raw, blistered surface.

That's you. "Eat," Pakunoda breaks the silence. Her voice was flat, low, and completely devoid of comforting warmth. And without another word, she leaves.

You listen to the tap of her heels against the broken tiles of the room and then the door closing.

Suddenly, you can't taste the food, neither is the world as appealing.

The following days come and go like they're silk slipping away from your hands — except they leave deep scars.

But you don't let it get to you. You don't let his monsters eat you alive. You don't show it. You wipe away the blood as you hold back your tears.

Look him in the eye, and smile.

At first, it seemed so easy for him to toy with you. You would easily cry out, even at the slightest touch of the molten rod — you'd pray to God with tears as offerings.

But he noticed — the twitch of your eyebrows when he had dropped lower to your ears after spitting on your face and whispered,

"Your mother was way better than you whore, atleast she'd protest when I'd use her. You are pathetic, accepting all this without question."

If your eyes could light up with rage, they would have. You really were a pathetic little creature — at least, that's what you believed. You hated yourself. All of it. Every little pitiful inch.

Maybe that's why you didn't protest much when all of it had started. You never resisted — not because you had accepted it, but because you were utterly hopeless and consumed by despair. You body was broken, will fractured, and you were clinging to silence as your only shield. There was no fight, only quiet endurance.

But there was this one thing you were exceptionally proud of. Your mother. That's all you ever loved about yourself, that you were her daughter. And you learned that he took her from you.

So you rebel.

You don't give him the thrill of hurting others. You don't give him the reactions he yearns for.

You don't let out even a single noise, whenever he touches you to scar you. You look him in the eye. Daringly, demandingly, dangerously.

Even you are shocked to see this phenomenal change, but you had waited for this pivotal moment all your life. For it comes for everyone. You had to make something out of it — of this new maturity.

But what can you even do right now? You are still helpless.

Simply being defiant won't always help. And the torturer, Karl, has some divine powers. Or else how could you be alive even after that horrendous branding of your eyes?

You feel the pain — no, you were left alive to feel it. As a normal person under these circumstances would have ascended to oblivion.

There's something different — something out of this world, yet in the grasp of humans — and this "Phantom Troupe" has it.

It's Nen, perhaps, going by what you gave heard. But how do you learn it? Do you need to be special for it? Or is it for some special race?

How do you defeat him, in a game that he is supposed to win?

You sigh, and lay on the dirty floor, like you have been for the last 15 days.

Your mom, You instantly feel a choke in your throat. The pain that tugged at your heart was far worse than whatever torture you were subjected to. That little good-for-nothing motherfucker told you that he'd spare your mother if you agreed to be his slave. But you learned that instead, he violated her later after taking you with her. Your father was a trash human to begin, so you didn't care if he died. But not your mother, she was an angel, your winter soldier, always standing tall and strong to protect you. And Karl took her away from you. Your freedom and your reason of being. And you were thoroughly, almost painfully reminded of the promise you made to him the night you learned. You will, and definitely will, shred him down to pieces.

But how? The only dreadful question rings in your mind, questioning your resolve and exhistence. You clutch the threadbare sack cloth that tries to cover your body, till your knuckles turn white. You cover the pain with your fury — that's about all that you can do when it's a game, played unfairly by God.

Yet again, how could God let one question when they believed in them? Even God couldn't look over the insatiable sense of revenge inside you.

The door opens once again, and you almost don't hear the swing. You only feel someone's breath skim against your shoulder, and you get up frantically.

"I'll be honest, it's lovely to see you getting tortured" A velvety, silk voice vibrates down your eardrums. You can't figure out who it is. Because only one person's voice was devilishly carved into your senses.

And this wasn't him, this wasn't Karl. Maybe someone else.

He smells sweet. But sounds just like him. Grey and immoral.

His touch is even softer than his voice as he runs his hands over a prominent scar on your face. "Poor girl, Karl really doesn't know how to spot potential~"

You stay silent. Potential?

"Hmmmm, I love the way you changed your attitude when he hit your nerve. You're a treasure — nothing of what Karl measures you against."

You just sit, oblivious. He leans in again, and your hands, though weak, still try to push him away — but they only brush against his chest as he drops lower near your ears.

You suddenly feel warmth — a little nurturing, but a lot more alien. It plays with every ounce of your existence — and it's like your rage has a vent now.

His touch lingers, and you realize the warmth isn't external; it's seeping into the scar tissue, threading into your veins. It feels thick, almost like molten metal being poured through a brittle straw. The fire is sudden, centered in your chest—the locus of life and emotion. It ignites not just pain, but the dormant, bitter fury you've been hiding. You can feel him forcing it, a precise, methodical invasion. It’s not a gift; it’s an imposition. You want to scream, but the fire is choking the sound in your throat. The heat is so intense, you wonder if it's re-scorching the flesh around your eyes, or if a new, invisible scar is being carved into your very soul.

And then

you black out.

"Don't disappoint me. You're now a part of my game."

A/n: This ain't ending here. There will be more parts for sure.

Part-2

[silk-carnage]

hey hey… 🫦 Chuuya x Dazai’ssister!reader who stayed in the PM… (aka dazai didn’t bother taking her with) … please…? 🙏 smutty…

yes oml I'll do it

[silk-carnage]

"I don't like.. Talking."

Setting: Chuuya X Dazai's Sister(Fem!Reader) Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+, hate sex 🛐, pussy eating, foul language. Trope: Not exactly slow-burn, sexual tension.

o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

She has that same, stupid face.

Chuuya looks at you debating if today is a day when he's ready to let you ruin it. You stand in the middle of the hallway as if you own the whole thing, fingers flying over the keyboard of your phone, seemingly texting someone.

He had asked you to move, and you chose to be snarky-

"Move past me, shortie"

The word, shortie, still rings in his mind and he just stares at you like he is trying to burn a hole in your forehead.

"You should be held together by a leash" "yeah? who you think would do that?"

"Your brother might"

You finally look up from your phone, locking eyes with his.

"Knew it. You always wanted the appreciation no one ever gave you", You reply with a pitying sigh and no one could ever tell if you're being rhetorical or genuine.

“What do you mean?” he asks without hesitation. He’s used to comments like this. Being a part of what used to be a “trio” comes with its baggage.

"Don't play dumb. My brother was the one who just, ran away, while you were the one who stuck around to look pretty."

Chuuya, surprisingly, is amused, lips somewhat twitching upwards in a small smile. He hates it.

He brushes past you, muttering loud enough for you to hear it,

"All these years and I am still trying to make sense of the crap you keep blurting."

His arm grazes you, you don't move.

^_____^

You don't know.

You don’t know why you have to be in the same car as Chuuya after a mission—and with him driving, no less. There’s no music. The hum of the car is louder than you thought possible. The world outside flies past, quiet and blurred, but everything inside this car feels still. Eerie.

"You drive like this all the time?" "Like how?"

"Like you're trying to suffocate people around you?" "Yeah maybe."

You repeat his statement in a more high-pitched voice, mocking him. "yEaH, mAyBe"

He shoots you a look, being a classic redhead.

"You wanna walk?" "Hell, if you wear these heels I will certainly do."

"Wait, why are you wearing heels?" "Felt like it."

" 'Felt like it', sounds like a sorry excuse" "You wanna try out my heels or something, because you seem to have a problem with me wearing them."

Heels.

Heels.

Chuuya tries to shoot you a shut up kind of look, but—

Heels. That’s what sticks in his mind.

Heels are... okay. They're decent. They look hot on legs like yours. And the little click sound they make every time you shift in your seat? It’s killing him. You’re killing him.

Especially in those heels—classic red Prada. He’s already looked at your legs three times now. At least.

You let the tension simmer throughout the ride. When the car finally pulls up in front of your house, you drop a little bomb.

"They're Prada" "What?" “The heels. Prada. But no wait—you already knew that, didn’t you? Considering how long you were staring.”

You pout slightly, teasing. Then murmur a soft “Goodbye”, your rare generosity pushing him right over the edge.

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Chuuya sits in front of an empty nurse’s desk, slightly hunched, wounded more than he’d like to admit. He’s too hurt to care about decency—his torn clothes barely covering anything.

He lifts his head when he hears footsteps, sees you enter.

You don’t look surprised. Or worried. Or even amused. Just... indifferent. Your eyes settle on his injuries.

“Hope you lost your shit over those wounds and beat the crap outta them?”

“Yeah,” he snarls. You scoff.

“The nurse isn’t coming anytime soon. I was sent as a substitute.”

You stroll casually to the desk and sit, lazily leaning your elbow on the armrest.

“And? Just do what a nurse does.”

You scrunch your nose. “I don’t feel like it.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back with a wince.

“Look, this shiti hurts like hell and I’m not in the mood for your ‘feels’ right now. Just aid me, or I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Aww, someone’s having a bad day, huh?” You grin.

Still, you reach for the cotton and bandages and begin tending to him.

“Your brother used to have a thing with these,” he mutters as you wrap the bandages.

You chuckle.

“He will marry these if he never finds his stupid suicide partner.”

“He’s so full of crap. So dumb.” “D-U-M-B.”

You both laugh. He louder than you, and for once, your smile doesn’t disappear immediately. You press the cotton a bit more gently, wiping off the blood. You feel his breath on your nose, and you just smile wider.

╰(*°▽°*)╯

You’re drinking. It’s been a while. With Chuuya, even longer. Usually, you used to dwell on how your brother never looked back after walking away. But, on nights shared with no one, clutching a wine glass on your balcony, you used to care.

Not tonight, because it's different.

Just you and him, sitting on a rooftop that feels like it's sitting at the top of the world. And you felt the same. You laugh—not just at Dazai’s antics, but at everything. The things you two always shared in common but never admitted.

You’re sitting close. Too close. And it’s foreign, but Chuuya leans in, close enough to murmur everything into the space between you. You chime out loud, "I missed this!" "Me or the drink?" "Both" He hums and then chuckle that grumbles in his chest, "You rascal, you miss me? But you talk like I am an outcast." "You are, no doubt." You giggle and he scoffs. Though he smiles wider, running a tongue over his canine, and then speaking up, "Can I ask you something?" "Shoot" He let's your playful remark hang in the air for a beat too long, then leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Before your brother left, do you think there was something, between us?" "Where was what?"

You don't even bother to register what he said, and slur your statement out like a 5 year old thinking they own the world.

"Wow" "What wow?" "Nothing" "Noooo, I am sowwwy, tell me." "You're actually apologizing? Well, how about that?" "I might just stop." "Sure" "Don't be a meanie, I swear I'll try to understand what you said with my big brain."

Pause. He stays silent, eyes buried in yours for one solid minute.

And then it's sudden. He snickers and bursts out laughing. You frown. "Whaaaat" "Did you really just say that? 'Meanie' and 'Big brain'?" You roll your eyes, "So what's the problem with that?" "No problem at all, keep talking like a toddler" “At least I don’t strut around in my twenties looking like I just graduated from preschool.”

"Don't you dare" "Dare what?" "Shut up" "Why? Why you asking me to shut up?"

He goes silent—again. But this time, it’s not annoyance. It’s something else. His gaze drops, and his grip on the glass tightens just slightly.

And you hate it. So you break it.

"Even if there was something, we never bothered to talk, because I don't start too easily and you end it too early"

Chuuya, is speechless. His grip on his glass loosens a bit. So she heard it all fine and clear. "I don't like.. Talking.." He answers, slowly, as if he's heading into a dangerous territory. "Look who's talking, bet you never even tried doing what you like" You look at him intently, maybe expecting something. But when he just stays silent, again, and stares down, you lean back in your chair and sigh. Placing one leg over the other, unintentionally, you reveal your new platform heels, bright pink. Chuuya's breath stutters. Something inside him stirs, loud and sudden.

He’s been holding back since the second you stepped onto the rooftop, still dressed from that birthday party—adorable dress, perfect makeup.

And those heels.

He doesn’t think. Thinking is useless now. "Chuuyyaa!" You scold more than being surprised as he places your legs over his shoulder, and then dropping lower. And shuts your endless ramblings with a sealing kiss. It's messy, he is messy. Too caught up, fast and pacing. But, you hold him firmly by the cheeks and deepen the kiss, grounding him. It's not like you have great self-control either, because you tug at his collars, and then moan right into his lips, eyes fluttering shut as you taste the rich, perfectly aged whisky on his lips.

~~~///(^v^)\\\~~~

The both of you are shameless. Not just for hurling insults at each other one moment and acting inseparable the next, but for showing no regard for anyone else who might step onto the rooftop and witness the two of you,

fucking.

In your haste you had pushed away all the cutlery and anything else kept on the table, only for him to pick you up place on the table. The hem of your dress ride up and he tugs at your thighs to pull you on the edge of the table. Leaning down, he bites, hard on your thighs and you jerk forward and muffle a moan, and after that much-yearned-for reaction, he soothes the pain with the run of a tongue and a kiss. His hand play with the elastic of your panty, which is by the way soaked about now. He presses his nose against your wet cunt, inhaling the heady scent. And then he licks it, tastes it and would have most certainly eaten it whole, if there wasn't what lied beneath it. He tugs your panties to a side with his tongue.

You moan louder than before and your back arches. He is enjoying every second of this.

He inserts a finger inside, and pulls his face away, much to your dismay, and looks at you. "How do you like it, hotshot?" You could only whimper for an answer, and couldn't love it anymore. Then, he doesn’t just rail it in and out — he twists, grinds, swirls the whole damn thing like it’s choreography.

You scream-moan out his name and that pushes him off the edge. Pushing inside two digits at once, he casually reaches over and pulls out of your tits, pinching the pebbled nipple, hard. "You are perfect when you are not being a brat" "nghn, I hate you" He grins when you say that while noticing you were biting your lips which was a desperate attempt to suppress your noises. "Perfect" He leans down again, and as if three fingers pumping in and out at a crazy speed wasn't enough, he has his lips sealed around your clit, tongue swirling rounds over it, squeezing your tit harder as he goes feral over your whimpers and coos.

He keeps his pace and now you can't take it. You press your head harder against the surface you're pinned onto, grind and ride his fingers, eyes rolling back and batting shut. You gulp hard as he you feel tonnes of nasty knots building in your core, and the heat tenses up. "Tell me, dumbass, you wanna come all over my fingers?" You nod, and he stops right when you felt like coming. "I want to hear it loud 'n clear." Chuuya commands You groan. You felt so frustrated and done with him that you would have broke into tears. You whine and literally threw your feet and hands at him.

Chuuya runs a tongue over his canine, slowly pulling out his fingers, as a warning, "Throw all the tantrums you need—I just want to hear what you want. Say it loud. Say it clear." You stare at him with tears.

No, you aren't crying, but they were about to spill because the orgasm coming was so tense.

Your nose scrunched, and eyebrows pulled together,

And you may have screamed that you wanted to come all over his fingers while calling him a little piece of shit. Satisfied, he finally moves his fingers, faster and harder, and though it takes a few minutes to build it again, the frenzy was as good, or maybe even better than what was coming earlier. You were left breathless, eyes watery, hairs disheveled, mascara ruined with tears and lips swollen and red. You chest heaves up and down and the strap of your dress is barely covering your shoulders now.

After lapping up every little ounce of your release, Chuuya looks up and grins wider than ever. "You're wasted" "Don't talk to me." "I'll do that, I don't like talking." You groan but chuckle nonetheless.

(❁´◡`❁)

a/n: Sooooo that was it. haha. I'll be answering that other pending request too. Like i got the kind of free time needed to write a oneshot this long, only today. Thus, I am sorry for the late update. Please don't expect the time skip thing to get better lol. btw credits to owner of the banner on pinterest lol. I don't own any characters and shit. ALSO: @cleomenelac You requested it, and here it is! THANK YOU FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME HEHE <3

[silk-carnage]

had never really thought i'd experience writers block when im not even a full fledged writer.

[silk-carnage]

Hell...could ya do femdom x the clown loser (Hisoka). Just like him getting intrigued by her and then suprised by her sudden dominance ykyk

so see, actually if go deep down in hisoka's psyche He'd absolutely LOVE having a dominating partner but he'd secretly drop a hint about the fact that he chose to be dominated by you. he'd make the perfect clown loser you want babes!

[silk-carnage]

hello :D

could i request some headcannons for the stardust crusaders? specifically how they would be with a reader who is a super deep sleeper! i personally sleep like the dead, like i’ve genuinely slept through a hurricane that caused a tree to fall on my house once 💀

so since in part 3 they get attacked all the time while in the process of traveling somewhere i think it’d be funny to have a powerful reader who is like the group’s trump card in most situations, but they’re impossible to wake up and are always taking a nap when they’re in a car/train/plane/anything getting them from point A to point B. tysm :)

RAAAH, you won't believe that whenever Im making stories in my head, I cook up a character like that lol. It is genuinely soo fun. Dw, I'll give you one at the earliest I can manage, Im busy with my exams T-T

___________________________________________ Stardust Crusaders Headcanons ^⁠_⁠^!!

JOSEPH.

• Man, is he pissed.

• "OH MY GAWD Y/N WE'RE 'BOUTA CRASHH, WAKE UP WE NEED YOUR STAND"

• Keeps lecturing you about your sleep conditions and that you should improve and be a light sleeper.

• He's tried a lot of things to keep you from sleeping. Like buying strong coffee and forcing you to drink it, or even shouting in your ears.

• "Are they high on drugs all the time, why are they so sleepy?"

• Fcking dies of dread when he sees you sleeping again.

• Whines and complains about it.

• "That's ridiculous, how could they still be sleeping when I was crashing my 3rd plane??"

• He and Polnareff team up to tease you about it.

• tries to understand and find some ways to fight the enemy w/o you.

POLNAREFF GRRR

• He teases you about it, a lot. And you guys fight a lot.

• This one time, he and Joseph tried keeping your eyelids open with the help of tape.

• He does stupid things to see if you'll wake up, like dancing with his butt in front of you, or sneezing in your face.

•Purposefully keeps all the coffee bites in your lap so that Iggy pounces on you to wake you up.

• He once placed you in front of the enemy, making sure you didn't wake up. He was desperate and needed your help. And he literally said "Come on, wakeup, the enemy is in your face, i hope you get the gravity of the situ--- MON DIEU THEY AREN'T WAKING UP!!!" • "Our sleeping beauty tends to be very helpful in certain situations.."

• isn't much bothered with it personally because he would never want to admit that you are the strongest amongst them.

AVDOL.

• My man 🙏🏻😔

• Understands that you can't help it.

•But again, freaks out when the enemy seems to be powerful and you're sleeping.

• Patiently just tries to fight the enemy without you, because he feels it's rude to get you to wake up.

• Treats you with refreshments when you wake up.

• Is genuinely surprised and intrigued by how much of a deep sleeper you are.

KAKYOIN HEHEHEHE

• He's a pookie, that's how it is.

• He and iggy are the ones who come rushing to wake you up.

• Once , he slapped you multiple times you to wake you up but then regretted it and kept apologizing for it.

• Keeps staring at you thinking he can control your mind to wake you up.

• "That's unreal, even my hierophant green can't wake them up"

• He and Avdol are your comfort characters in this case.

• Else, he's mostly like Avdol. ( I can't think of anything else)

JOTARO

•Bro..

•He has personal beef with you because of that.

• This mission is important for him because it's about saving his mom, and he thinks that you don't care because you keep sleeping all the time. (also i think i can't exactly use this logic only for him cuz maybe everyone would be the same because the mission is equally important for all and if not ALL then atleast joseph too because Holy is his daughter but ughhghghghg idk don't make me use my mind much :P)

• I can't think of anything funny in his case 😭😭

•Doesn't talks or does anything about it. Lol. That's how funny it gets, now laugh.

•OOOH, Polnareff once asked him if you would wake up even when star platinum was attacking you. Though it was hypothetical, he didn't wanted that question to keep him up at night. Ofc he didn't actually execute it, you would've died. But he almost did. Just almost.

IGGYYYYYY •I actually forgot him??????? somebody kill me •I love to think that once you and iggy were in a room and got ambushed by an enemy and you were sleeping and iggy had to deal with the most of it but then you suddenly wake up in the end and take all the credit XD •he always growls at you for that. •But i guess he loves to use you as his bed. Yk shuffling about at your stomach or head to make himself comfortable and then snore in sync.

This was, something idk man.

Honestly, i don't think they'd be THAT bothered than I made them to be. I really don't have an optimistic outlook on things, so I keep thinking they'd get really serious abt it because they'd be dying with every breath they take and then you ain't waking up. Lmao.

[silk-carnage]

hey hey… 🫦 Chuuya x Dazai’ssister!reader who stayed in the PM… (aka dazai didn’t bother taking her with) … please…? 🙏 smutty…

yes oml I'll do it

[silk-carnage]

guys im getting bored suggest something to me to writeeee

[silk-carnage]

HEAR ME OUT

[silk-carnage]

Claw clip Pt.2

A/N: Here's the part two cuz I couldn't add it in my last post! Thanks to all the pooks who are back to read and continue. Wishing it ends in this one T_T. Happy reading Warnings: Well there's making out and some language stuff. MDNI Ig.

Part-1

♡ You thought about Hisoka this time too, about the more romantic aspect about him. Though nothing about that scary magician would be romantic instead of that eerie use of pink in his wardrobe. But that still, once again, had you addicted. You were wishing, no– praying to see all of his perfect, flawless skin every time you’d get reminded of his presence. You had seen his strong arms, oh those pretty fingers with the slight flush of blood under that porcelain skin of his, the muscles bulging out with the extraordinary finish of his veins, and his perfectly manicured nails. And then his eyes, oh not his eyes. That deep amber of his irises with the famous quirk of his eyes, crinkling further up as he smiled with his mischievous, beautiful and lustrous lips. And these days you have noticed those heart shaped earrings he’s wearing, that’s got all your feline features back on their feet, throbbing to play with them, your fingers flicking them as they jingled. And the heels he’s been wearing, the thought of him absolutely slaying in those heels with his killer legs lives rent-free in your mind. Sigh Heck, you were all over him And boy did you hate that. You sat there, not very proud of your lazy posture but that’s not something you will be worrying about. At least not right now. You lay down further on the grass, flat on your belly, the sides of your face pressed to the ground, your extraordinarily sensitive senses letting you hear all the hustle and bustle that must be occurring in the distance, your hair being held together barely by your clawclip. Oh, by the way, this claw clip is your favourite, though it serves zero purpose to its owner, it’s still pretty privileged and chosen over thousands of others. Why is that, you ask? For two things. First, your master gifted it to you, saying that– “This is the only thing I can give you so spontaneously upon the completion of your training,” and you accepted it wholeheartedly. It was a traditional piece of Japanese accessory, adorned with gold and silver painted metallic wires coiled into flowers and stars, and delicate cherry blossom features indicating the spring season. Absolute work of art.

And second, for which you scold yourself all the time, is that Hisoka actually told you that it looked nice on your hair. And that’s it, you knew it was never going to be kept away. Your nose, which was overly hypersensitive because of the rough training, catches onto something sickeningly sweet, a familiar scent that usually has you swooning. Also, your ear which was pressed against the ground listened to the thud of someone’s steps, someone’s stride. You quickly quirk up, shuffling about to sit up straight and look around. You weren’t threatened, because you were expecting someone, but not the someone who now stood right beside you, startling you a little, and alarming you much. You practically sprung to your feet in front of him, keeping a poker face despite the heart-hammering in your chest on his appearance. “Oh my~ It’s nice to see you here, like this.” Hisoka coos in his velvety voice, another thing you’d absolutely kill for. You raise an eyebrow, trying to look as casual as possible.

“How did you find me here?” You echo back, being your usual rude self towards him, so much to be obsessed with him Hisoka takes a step closer, and your expression becomes more horrified than neutral. But you stay put, not moving an inch, not tearing your gaze away from his. “Hmm, you really want to think about that?” He answers back, eyes boring back into yours before he adds. “You’ve become stronger, I like that.” Shit? and a BIG YAY

Your dual personality has you questioning yourself for a while, before agreeing on the fact that you have some psychological ailment. By this statement, Hisoka probably means he’d love to have a fight, which you would agree to without hesitating. God knows what angels had bestowed their blessings upon you but you made a mental note to thank them later “Mhm, I have been training”

“That’s great, really. I never noticed your potential, how cruel that must be” “Yeah, sure. What do you want?” He grins wickedly “A fight would be nice.” “Sure”    That came out too fast and too unhesitantly, much to your dismay. You stammer with your words before adding “Yeah, I mean, we could, but, I don’t have that kind of time right now..” “Are you staying in this town?” “For a while– yeah. I mean, for a few hours that is.” “Does that mean you’d be leaving?”  He says pulling out his cards, putting you on full guard as he plays with them on his fingertips “Yeah” “Well, that’s too bad. I think I'd like to take your time right here~" “I am not fighting you here” “Hmph, how about next month, on a discussed date and place?”

He says, throwing one of his cards at you, clearly aimless, flung for distracting you from the bungee gum tentacle darting towards you. And you swiftly dodged both of them, sprinting to a side. “That— sounds nice. You decide” He watched you with a look of approval and something, his eyes scanning you up and down and observing your movements as you walked to lean against a tree. “How about the last day of the next month, 9 pm, in the YorkNew city park” 

He steps closer, deliberately, slowly, cautiously and gracefully, like a swan stalking in its beauty. You watch him do that, again, tranced by his ever-so-consuming presence. His legs move towards you with the finesse he usually carries with him, that cocky grin spread across his expression, still there, twitching upwards. Amber eyes piercing through yours, enchanting, intoxicating and hooking. For a second, you give up on letting even a word out, but you did, for the sake of yourself, you did. “Yeah, sure. Whatever floats your boat—”  you feel something, elastic tightening around your waist, your ankles, pinning you to the tree further. Fuck, when did his bungee gum even caught up? How could you be so careless? So lost in him? “Staring at me like that, hm? Interesting.”  He muses, stepping even closer, dangerously closer, right in front of you, his feet pressing over yours, hot breath fanning your face and making you shiver. You dared not utter a word, his finger reaching out to tilt your face to a side by your chin, letting him take a glance at your claw clip. “Mh, my favourite claw clip, still there?” His hand reaches out to tangle in your hair, pulling it gently to make you wince and probably pulling you back to your senses as well. “What are you doing?” “I am about to steal a few things~”

He coos back, with his finger caressing the back of your neck. He lets go of your chin, hand trailing down to rest at your thigh, pulling your leg up to hook it against his hips, the other hand which was tangled in your hair now cupping your face and forcing you to look at him

This is too much for a single night. Too much to even fit in a K-drama. You’re suddenly receiving everything you’d ever want from him. A promised fight and then THIS??!! Like, he was holding your thighs up your skirt now, his face was mere inches away and that’s got you panicking in all sorts of ways, good ways. Oh, now you can finally see him closely, drink the texture of his skin to memory and play with his earring with your hands resting on his shoulder. All of this, it’s too good to even be a dream, you are convinced you’re in heaven, and the blessings of angels from earlier was just a welcome-prank on you. You needed something to tell you all this was real while you lose yourself in the surreal feeling of staring into his eyes—

And that’s when his lips

Hisoka’s lips are so soft and sweet, it’s like he uses butter for them

They’re against yours, moving gently, tenderly and assuringly, each movement sending jolts through you. His body weight presses you deeper into the tree, fingers digging into your soft flesh of thighs, teeth nipping at your lower lip and his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, earning himself a sweet little, cherished moan from you. He pauses against your lips, grinding his hips against you as he manhandles both your legs to rest them on his waist with them locked at your ankles.Your hand moves to tug at his hair, pulling him closer, and he leans lower, to place open-mouthed, wet kisses, gliding against your skin, coining whimpers as you tuck your lower lips under your teeth. Your head falls back, giving him new skin, his lips grazing your throat as he nipped and sucked on your soft skin.

“You’re being too easy, don’t you think?”  He breathes against your skin, pushing his lips against your skin, peppering soft kisses.

“Shut up”  You grunt lowly. What? You weren't  gonna tell him you have thought about this moment too much.

He places a soft kiss on your lips, followed by a more defined and passionate one, nails sinking into your waist as his fingers slowly graze your shirt upwards to splay his fingers over your bare skin which almost slide down the elastic of your panties, but decide to trail upwards and waking goosebumps against your skin.He presses your forehead against his, his shallow breaths skimming over your nose, yours waking shivers down his neck. Your eyes are closed, too afraid to open them and realise it was just a mind game, or probably see the heavens like you thought earlier. But the clicking-open sound of your clutcher, and the tightened grip on your thighs told you otherwise, telling you this was real. "Take this from me when you meet me next time" He whispers, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before his teeth tug at your earlobe, as if he can't stop lavishing his lips on your skin.

Hisoka pulls away completely, gently placing your legs back on the ground and letting you go, making you feel touch-starved all over again. And the second you open your eyes, you feel a shift in the air, and realise, he’s gone. Again.

There he was, our good ol’ unpredictable Hisoka, no one knows what he’s up to, what he might do, what he might become. No one at all. Everything you knew was that he took his favourite claw clip with him while making out with you. And now you’re left again as if on purpose.

♡ A/N: hehe, the end!! And uh credits to the owner for the header, I got them from pinterest. And I'll be taking requests from you guys cuz it'll take me time to come up with something else, so feel free to ask!! Also let me know if I should do any further sequels cuz I have a few in mind. Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu