#hisoka morrow
Killua: How the hell are you two friends?
Illumi: We’re not. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.
Illumi: Intimately close. Seduce your enemies.
Hisoka: Marry your enemies and poison the wedding cake.
Illumi: I’m not marrying you if you bring the wedding cake into it. That’s just unnecessary.
Hisoka: You’re right, I went too far.
Hisoka: I apologize.
Killua: Please just…forget I asked.
MASTERLIST
—;
summary: dabi is on the run from the cops when you just happened to leave your window open.
—;
summary: you unknowingly spilled coffee on one of the world’s most notorious criminal masterminds, completely destroying an old book he had just acquired. to apologize, you insist on at least repaying him by lending your copy of the book you’d ruined.
summary: it had become easier over the years to keep your feelings for your boss hidden, but when he assigns you to pose as his date during a mission it suddenly becomes much, much harder.
—;
summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.
—;
summary: after barely escaping death at the jaws of a night creature, you find sanctuary in a dreary old castle seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and unknowingly land yourself in the care of a being you couldn’t have ever expected to take pity on a human like you.
—THE BET
summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.
w/c: 4587
tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming
a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.
big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.
The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.
Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.
You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.
“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.
She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”
Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.
“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.
Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.
The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.
“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.
“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.
‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.
When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.
‘Three of a kind already… what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.
After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.
All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.
Joker. That meant you had four queens.
It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.
All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.
An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.
Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.
“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.
A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.
“That’sbullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.
“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping allyour winnings into his arms.
Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”
“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.
Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.
“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”
A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”
Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.
He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.
Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.
“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.
Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”
Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.
“Shall we begin, then?”
You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”
He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”
You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”
That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.
“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.
Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.
“And…” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”
The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.
The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.
“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.
You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.
‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.
“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.
“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.
He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”
You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”
The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”
Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.
“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.
“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.
He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”
If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering…
“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”
He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.
“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”
Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.
There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?
‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.
“If I lose…”
“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.
Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?
No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.
You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.
“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”
Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.
“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.
“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.
With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”
“Wait… Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.
Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.
Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.
“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.
“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.
You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”
He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.
“You… are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.
Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.
“Iknew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”
You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.
“It will make it so much more satisfying…” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “…when I breakyou.”
Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.
Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.
“Wh.. Why?”
“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.
Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”
Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.
You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,
“Hi-so—kah…”It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.
He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.
All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.
“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.
He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.
“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”
“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?
Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.
Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.
“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”
“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”
Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.
With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.
That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.
“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.
“M..o-re,more…” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.
It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.
The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.
“Ye-es cum inn-sideme,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.
“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck,i’m cumming—“
His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.
“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.
“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”
The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.
“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.
As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”
“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.
“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”
He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”
the magician? no sir, you’re a clown
