yan!phantom troupe most to least likely to get you a cat | headcanons
tags: gn!reader, yandere, mentions of threatened violence against animals
pakunoda
she loves the idea! she even brings it up with you herself. she already likes cats and they always seem to like her, but she never thought about adopting one because of her unpredictable lifestyle. now that she has you, kept safe and hidden away in her home, it seems like a much more viable idea. she really does hate to see you so despondent and upset, and hates the thought of you being miserable all alone while she’s away, so bringing in a cat is a perfect solution to your loneliness. if you’ve been particularly good lately she may even bring you along to find one, either from a shelter or straight off of the streets.
machi
unlike pakunoda she won’t bring up the idea herself, but once you mention it she jumps right on top of it. not immediately, of course. she has to at least pretend to think about it and be cranky about it. really though, she recognizes this as a great opportunity to boost your mood and improve your opinion of her. she brings you a kitten because she thinks it’ll be good for you to put all your energy into raising it, and also because it’s just so cute. even if she won’t say it out loud. adopting the cat has a third, more unexpected benefit though. it ends up humanizing her to you, as soon as you see her cooing and petting the little baby when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.
phinks
sure. why not. that’s exactly what he thinks when you bring it up. he really couldn’t give a fuck about some fuzzy little animal living in the house, but if it’ll make you happy (and finally make you like him) he’ll do anything. the shelter employees are a little hesitant to hand one over when you walk in with this brooding, sketchy looking guy but none of them have the guts to outright refuse him, so you end up bringing home whichever one you want. he doesn’t ever grow to love the cat, but with time maybe he can learn to like it. just a little bit. maybe even let it curl up on his lap and get fur all over his track suit, if you gush about how sweet it is while he does it.
uvogin
another one who just doesn’t give a fuck. he doesn’t like cats, doesn’t dislike them, but if you really want one he’ll oblige. yanks one straight off the street and brings it home to you spitting and scratching like it’s life depends on it. the poor baby calms down a lot once you manage to get it out of uvo’s hands, but the cat never quite warms up to him and really only likes you lmao. uvo doesn’t mind though, he really only got it to make you happy, and as you later find out, to have a more convenient way to bring you back in line when you start acting up. all it takes is one off-handed threat towards the cat and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more cooperative. it is very cute to see him trying to pet it’s tiny head with his giant fingers though, even if the cat is less than thrilled to have him around
shalnark
shalnark isn’t thrilled at the idea of having a cat around, but he isn’t exactly opposed to it either. he just doesn’t really care about animals much. and the thought of a cat getting hair everywhere and jumping all over his desk doesn’t sound like the best idea to him. if you’re persistent enough, however, he might make it into a reward for good behavior. if you can make it a couple months without picking a fight or trying to break a window he’ll bring one home for you, but don’t think for a second that you can ever get away with acting out again. shalnark will not hesitate to threaten the cat to get your cooperation, and he’ll say it all with a smile on his face and a hand scratching the oblivious kitty’s ears. he’s another one who won’t ever love the cat exactly, but might grow to tolerate it. likes picking on it with a laser pointer or some other toy that it loves to chase but never quite catches
chrollo
chrollo isn’t too keen on the idea. he moves around a lot, and it’s enough of a hassle getting you from one place to another with no hiccups. throwing an animal into the mix is not an appealing idea to him, but it’s possible to get him on board if you’re very, very convincing, and by convincing I of course mean being as sweet and cuddly (and maybe even sensual) as you can stand to be. I think chrollo would initially plan to buy you some expensive pure bred, but if you asked for a shelter cat specifically he may be surprised to find out that he’s happier that way. there’s something strangely charming about this scraggly little stray you’ve brought in to care for and cuddle. with enough introspection, he might come to the conclusion that he sees some of himself in this cat; or at least, some of who he used to be. he’s another one who will use the cat to keep you on your best behavior, although I don’t think chrollo would threaten to hurt the cat, just to take it away from you if you aren’t obedient. he doesn’t want you to resent him too much, after all.
feitan
oh god. if you know what’s good for yourself you won’t ever even ask him for one. if you do, and he agrees, it’s for one reason and one reason only: to terrorize you into obedience. feitan will not hesitate to hurt this animal you love if he thinks that’s what needs to happen to win your cooperation. whereas some of the others may use those threats a bit emptily, feitan has absolutely no qualms about breaking a bone on this poor animal to remind you that it’s in your best interest to mind his rules, now. what makes it more disturbing is the fact that feitan seems to get along with the cat just fine while you’re not acting up, petting it and letting it curl around his legs while he’s busy. he’ll threaten to snap a bone or crush its windpipe while stroking it calmly, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. he knows how terrified you are of seeing this animal get hurt. you’ll likely never have the guts to disobey him again.
(Yan) “Chrollo, why were you crying before? ….Are you alright?”
tags: gn reader, yandere, chrollo being big sad and a little bit unhinged
In the dark shadow of the room, you could almost convince yourself that Chrollo is praying as he glances up at you. Sat hunched on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded against his forehead as his dark eyes open to meet yours. It would be a funny thought, if it wasn’t so unsettling to see a man of his composure unraveling before you.
For a moment he says nothing, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything about it at all. If you should have stayed in the bathroom and pretended to busy yourself in the shower for another half hour. It feels almost violative to witness him in this state. Your hand itches to flip the switch of the bathroom light, plunge the room into darkness and wipe the image of that expression from your mind.
Chrollo stands and crosses the room in just a few short steps. His hands find rest on the curves of your cheeks, thumbs meandering along the lines of your face.
“I’ve lost someone very important to me,” he says. “Someone I should have been able to protect.”
His eyes are sad, too sad for a man of his kind. It’s wrong on his face, wrong on his body, for someone who’s caused so much grief to be crumbling under the weight of it himself.
“One of your friends again?” you ask.
“Yes,” Chrollo answers with a sad smile. “One of my oldest friends. And there is someone on this boat who is determined to take more from me.”
Your stomach churns nauseatingly. You aren’t sure if it’s the motion of the sea or the man in front of you causing it. Chrollo pulls you into his body, pressing his forehead against yours. He looks at you like he wants to absorb you through his skin. Catalog every detail, every sight, sound, and touch of you in the library of his mind. It feels too much like he’s bracing to lose it. To lose you.
“I see now that I’ve been an idiot,” he says. “Arrogant. An arrogant fool. I didn’t understand how close I was to losing all of you.”
Nausea. Cold, creeping nausea. You want him to drop this unfamiliar act, to become the strong and unwavering force he has always been to you. He can’t be weak. He’s made himself into the only support you have, and he can’t be weak now.
Something sharpens in his gaze.
“But I won’t make the same mistake again. I’ve been weak before, in a long distant past. Did you know that?” He smiles at you as you shake your head. “No, and I won’t be again, now or any time in our future.”
His hands tighten around your face.
“I will be anything, become anything, do anything it takes to keep what belongs to me.”
Nausea. Nausea. Your hands press against his chest in a weak attempt to put space between yourself and this man you don’t recognize. He can’t be this now. Fraying at the ends. He has to be your only constant. Your strong and unbroken constant.
At the pressure on his chest, Chrollo seems to find himself again. The edge in his eyes softens and he’s looking at you again like you’re his favorite dog, shivering while the thunder rages just outside your shelter. Firm hands press your face into the warmth of his chest.
“Chrollo, please. You’re scaring me.” The tremble of your voice muffles into the fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t be afraid, love,” he says. “Nothing is going to to take you from me. And if he tries to—“ his breath catches with a wave of emotion. The fingers in your hair tighten.
The air around you becomes thick with something powerful and suffocating, something cold and cruel that makes your joints lock and skin prickle. It fades as quickly as it comes, and Chrollo breathes slowly, deeply beside you. His hand caresses your hair in slow strokes, an imitation of comfort that does more to ground himself than to sooth you.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cause you to worry about this.” Warm lips press into the crown of your head before he tugs you away from his body to look into your eyes. “You’re safe with me. You always are.”
There’s a knock on the door. He leaves you to turn and pluck his coat from the bed, taking the warmth of his body with him, and you are left standing in the chill of the room with cold skin and damp hair.
“I’ll only be gone a moment,” he says. “Dry yourself off quickly. We’ll be moving rooms again tonight.”
He steps into the hallway where another voice greets him, and the door clicks shut behind him.
Your hair is dripping onto the tile beneath your feet. Chrollo’s voice fades into the depths of the hallway, further, further, until it’s gone.
you know feitan is basically in love with you when he a) agrees to go with you into a makeup store with minimal griping, and b) when you step out he starts shaking his clothes and out falls all the products you looked at while you were in there
*crawls in here* do you .. have any thoughts on yan Phinks.. any general headcanons or anything of the sort 😶🌫️
oh phinks. in my head he is so whipped for his darling. thinks they’re just the neatest thing and kind of wonders if they’re maybe out of his league, which is part of the reason I imagine he goes yandere for them to begin with. can’t have them finding someone better and realizing they could raise their standards after all, lmao. he is like a sopping wet towel to me
@isaut put me onto the idea of him and yung gravy being sort of alike, so now I always think of him as dollar store yung gravy. he’d like to believe he’s the type to fuck milfs and ooze this suave, machismo kind of charm. slaying all the ladies but can’t be tied down to any of them. he’s not, but this becomes especially apparent when darling comes along and suddenly he’s tripping over himself for slivers of their attention.
in my mind it’s almost comical, because he’s not some sweetheart or even particularly endearing. he’s just like. this scowling, intimidating presence following you around trying to be boyfriend material. and he really does try. takes you out on dates (and doesn’t notice how nervous you are when he offers to choke slam some poor fool who spilt their drink on you), brings you food, buys you shit. in his head the “good boyfriend” formula is a simple one to follow: be man, provide for partner, beat shit out of anyone who threaten them :) he’s a protector and a provider! what more could you want lmao
his desperation for your approval could be cute — if you weren’t so aware that there’s just something wrong with him, and that he doesn’t seem to know how to hide it
Chrollo sitting you up against his chest and holding a water bottle to your lips. He feeds you sips from the same bottle he drank from a moment before and watches as your lips touch the same places his did
Feitan feeding you himself with a spoon. He makes it out like it’s a demeaning, dominating thing, but really he just wants the excuse to take care of you. He scoops just the right amount of rice onto the spoon and waits a moment for it cool before holding it to your lips
Shalnark driving you to get boba tea, but he only orders one large. You sit in the car and he takes a long sip before holding the same straw to your mouth and feeding you from the same cup
Machi cutting apple slices and handing them to you while you both sit on the balcony. Your fingertips brush hers with each pass, and she uses her thumb to wipe sticky juice from your face and makes a noise that tells you not to mention it when you go to say thanks
Uvo used to order separate pizzas when he came over. Two for him, one for you. Now he only buys the two. Lets the you pick the toppings on one and has you eating from the same box as him
just did some for chrollo but he is so annoying there’s plenty more
even in a non-yandere relationship chrollo is weird and creepy. he’s good at hiding it though, so you’d really only have a nagging feeling that something was off. he snoops through your stuff when he feels like it, going through your phone, journal, drawers, whatever. you’re just so cute. it’s endearing that you think you can hide stuff from him lmao
tries to act so cool but is actually a grandfather. loves a hot cup of tea at night. thinks a trip to the library is a riveting date idea (he wants to see which books you look at). you bring him with you to a doctors appointment and he picks up a reader’s digest in the waiting room. shoves it in his coat pocket and walks out with it, too.
feitan in a non-yandere context is so fucking funny to me. he’s weird as hell. wants so badly to look like he hates you because he has an Image to keep up, but in reality you’re one of the only people he can stand to be around so he can’t risk running you off. results in him being an unbearably awkward tsundere. wants your positive attention but will never ask for it. gets cranky when you don’t give it to him the way he wants. poor soggy rat baby
a prankster for sure. puts hot sauce in your food while you’re not looking. pours water on your face to wake you up. chases you around with bugs. do NOT prank him back though unless you’re prepared to start a war you will not win
tags: she/her reader, yandere, predator/prey dynamics, non-con, feitan has a chase kink and you find out the bad way, this is also the first time I’ve written smut so that gets a warning itself lol
Your legs are aching, and your lungs burn, and this was a very bad idea.
You are running through the woods, at night, in god knows what part of what country, and this was a very, very bad idea. You’re sure that if Feitan has come back now and realized that you’re gone, it would do you no good to turn back and beg for his forgiveness though, so you don’t. You keep running.
To be fair, it wasn’t like you’d had an opportunity to escape yet in the months he’s kept you in the house long behind you. You saw a chance and panicked, and took it, and it was a horrible terrible awful fucking idea because your legs hurt and your lungs hurt and your feet hurt and you don’t even know where you are. The woods stretch on forever. The moonlight is hardly enough to even place your next step with.
You have a sense, as well, that you are not alone in these dark woods. But of course you would feel that way, right? You’re in the woods with every other night-crawling creature and surely Feitan hasn’t tracked you down already. It’s too dark and you’ve had too much of a head start. He’ll find you and make you regret it in the morning, you think, when you’re too tired and thirsty to give any more of a chase.
A branch snaps somewhere behind you, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. You stop dead in your tracks to look back, but there’s nothing in what little patches of light you can see. The woods are silent apart from your breathing, and you think wishfully that it couldn’t possibly be him because he moves like a ghost through the house he keeps you in, never making noise unless he wants you to hear it.
But that’s just it, isn’t it?
Unless he wanted you to hear it.
There’s another snap from a different direction, closer now, and you don’t know how he could have gotten there so fast and so quietly. It can’t be him. Of course it’s him. Please god don’t let it be-
“Are you done yet?”
It is him. It’s him it’s him and if you were breathing hard before, you’re choking on air now. Your feet feel stuck to the ground.
He continues, taunting and gleeful. “Poor rabbit, doesn’t know where to run.”
You can’t see him, but you can hear his satisfaction at having caught you in your mistake. You think, regretfully, that this was probably what he wanted all along. Another excuse to punish you. You wonder if he gave you the chance to escape on purpose.
Your will to run is draining quickly. You’re not stupid enough to think he’ll let you off easy if you give up now and apologize, but what good does running do at this point? You go to turn towards the sound of his voice, resigned to whatever fate he has planned, when he speaks again.
“You’re done already?” he says for the second time. There’s that taunting edge in his voice again, and you know now that he’s having fun with this. Seeing you struggle, making you scared, watching you fail. It’s all a game.
You open your mouth to tell him yes, you give up, just take you home and get it over with, but there’s a hard thock in the tree trunk closest to your legs, and you whip your head towards the sound to see that he’s thrown a fucking knife at you, and your legs are moving again as he cackles behind you.
You don’t have the presence of mind to think that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh.
Now, when he chases you, you hear him. His footsteps are loud and his voice mocking while you crash through the brush, branches whipping your face and legs and arms. You wish he would just catch you, like you know he easily could. You’re exhausted and scared and aching and it’s enough to make you miss your mattress on the floor of his basement.
Would he punish you more if you gave up? Are you really any better off if you let him run you through the woods all night?
You want to give up. You want to tell him to go fuck himself and his stupid games and all the other freak shit he’s put you through, and your legs burn and your lungs burn and-
Something collides with you from behind with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, driving you into the ground. It’s him, of course, pinning you underneath him and tangling a fist in your hair to shove your face into the soft moss. Your head is spinning and you can just make out his voice above you.
“Stupid girl,” he spits. “Can’t run. What should I do to you now that I have you?”
You try to lift your head to see him but he holds you down with more strength than you can hope to fight. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him fuck you, I hate you, I hope you die, but before you get the words out he’s pressing his hips down and rolling them into your ass and-
Oh. Oh god.
He’s hard.
Your mind blanks with the sensation, the horrifying realization of what exactly he’s going to do to you. You think he’s breathing harder than usual above you and you know it’s not for lack of energy. He presses his chest against your back and you feel his breath against your ear.
“What will you do,” he breathes, “now that I have you?”
His hands are on your waist then, flipping you onto your back before he drops down to rest on your hips again. The air is cold on your cheeks, and you realize that it’s because they’re wet, and your crying.
Feitan dips down to your face and licks a long line from your lips up to your eyelashes, catching the tears and leaving a sticky stripe behind. In the patch of earth he has you pinned in, there’s just enough light to make out his sneering face, and you wonder if you’ve ever seen him so satisfied as he is now. There’s no question that you’ve given him exactly what he wanted, and he’s going to punish you for it anyway.
His fingers undo the knot on your shorts.
“Will you behave?” he asks as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, sliding them under your ass and off your legs. It’s a pointless question. There’s nothing you could do with him straddling your body and snatching your wrists to pin them above your head. With his other hand he undoes the clasp of his own pants and reaches down to pull out his stiffening cock.
You nod in response to his earlier question, and part your lips when he presses two fingers into them. They slide along your tongue, stale with the taste of dirt and sweat, and you gag as he scratches just a bit too close to the back of your throat before reefing them from your mouth and sliding them down his dick. How considerate, you think, of him to bother lubing himself up for you.
It’s also apparently the only nicety he’s going to give you, because in the next moment he’s lining his dick up with your entrance and you yelp as he pushes himself in to the base with one fluid motion. He groans as he bottoms out and you squirm, trying to lessen the stinging stretch, with no luck.
The ground is rough and cold under the bare skin of your lower half, roots digging into the muscles in your back as he begins a brutal pace. Your breathe hitches with each mean thrust, and you turn your head to the side to avoid his searing gaze.
This is surely only the first of many punishments to come. You’ve never done something this blatantly disobedient with him before.
What would he even do, to scare you out of trying it again?
Feitan must notice that you’ve become lost in your thoughts, because his hand is gripping your jaw and turning your face to meet his again. His lips smash against yours, grinding, biting, growling.
“Look at me,” he says against your mouth. His tongue slides in through your lips, tangling with yours, and you taste your own blood on it.
“Look at me”—you yelp with a particularly hard thrust—“when I fuck you.”
In the quiet of the night you can hear the steady wet sounds of his dick pumping in and out of you. That initial pain from the stretch is gone, and the longer he’s at work, the warmer the space between your hips grows. You realize, humiliatingly, that he hasn’t once needed to stop and re-lube himself, because you’re more than wet enough on your own.
He shifts the angle of his hips slightly, and his cock is rubbing up against all the soft, sensitive spots inside you. The wicked glint of his teeth in the moonlight tells you that he’s just as aware of your growing arousal as you are.
It makes your cheeks heat up and the space behind your eyes begins to sting with fresh tears, as that coil in your belly continues to tighten and you both know exactly what he going to make you do.
“You like it?” he sneers. He slides a thumb around the seam where your entrance and his cock meet, picking up your slick and dragging it up to your puffy clit. You sob as he begins circling it with an unfair precision, and your thighs begin to tremble with the sensation.
“You like it,” he continues, “when I fuck you into the dirt like an animal?”
He’s waiting for an answer, you realize, when the nails on his other hand bite dangerously into your wrists, and you sob yes, Feitan, yes.
The steady thrusting, his finger on your clit, and the weight of his body on yours is bringing you closer and closer to the edge, skin hot, core aching, until all at once the coil snaps and your toes are curling with your release.
His grin above you is nothing but predatory, and your cheeks flush with humiliation as your back arches into the waves of pleasure, hips rolling to meet his. You bite your lips to try to stifle the moan being ripped from you throat, but the look on his face tells you he’s gotten everything he wanted anyways.
His pace quickens as your own high sizzles out, and soon the movements become erratic and harsh before he stills altogether, grinding his hips shallowly into yours as he groans and paints your insides with his cum.
The air is cold without the heat of sex warming your skin. You’re boneless on the ground, sucking in deep breaths, and the man above you looks no worse for wear.
You don’t dare meet his eyes. You’re dirty and tired and your face is streaked with tears, and you wish you didn’t care about how pathetic you must look to him.
The hand clasped around your wrists slides down to your mussed hair. Gently, he tucks a stray piece back into place, brushes a few strands away from your damp cheeks. You don’t let yourself stop to think of the implications.
He slides out of you and while you’re gathering your senses, he’s picked up your clothes to tug them back up your legs, under your bottom, and back into place around your hips.
He pulls you up onto shaky legs, and you feel his cum soaking through your panties and dripping down your thighs. You think you could start crying again.
He takes your wrist in a grip with a bit too much force, and tugs you along after him as he starts back towards the house. The pace he sets is just quick enough to have you stumbling after him, and you think again of what he’s going to do to you when you get back.
Fresh tears fall down your cheeks, and in a weak voice you tell him “I’m sorry, Feitan.”
He spares a glance back at you. You cannot see his expression past his cowl, pulled back into place over his nose and mouth, but in his eyes you see the barest hint of his typical cruel mirth.
“No,” he says, dropping his hand down to yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. It could almost be comforting.
I could write a goddamn encyclopedia on all the ways this man is obnoxious in a relationship
he insists on ordering for you in restaurants but doesn’t necessarily pick something he thinks you’ll enjoy. he mostly picks whatever food he has the most useless knowledge about. pronounces the foreign name perfectly. goes on and on about the technical aspects of the dish. you just wanted some spaghetti you didn’t come here for a fuckin college level culinary course
absorbs all of your interests like a sponge. finds out what your favorite shows and movies are and devours them. he feels like it brings him closer to you and helps him understand you better which is sweet, but then he brings it up in conversation and starts acting like he’s the expert lmao. mansplaining your own favorite media to you
knows all the classic tropes women are attracted to. cuffing his sleeves at his forearms. putting his hand on your seat while he reverse parks. eventually you realize he’s doing all this on purpose and you’re like….sir this is a wendys lmao WHO is he trying to impress with this. cheesy fool
