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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

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Home | Yandere HunterXHunter x Fem Reader

“I-I hope the next time you go away you’ll stay gone forever!”

Forcing your lower jaw not to drop any further, you called your son’s name. The sentiment was said with such malice too. It amazed you it even came from his mouth in the first place. Kimmy was such a kind and thoughtful little boy. You knew he missed his father but this couldn’t be a normal response.

“That’s not very nice.”

Of course, Chrollo did what he does best. Antagonizing those weaker than him. Which is the worst kind of response to give to an upset kid. Kimmy puffed his cheeks and angrily used his fork to prick at the vegetables on his plate. He mumbled something with his cheeks filled but you caught it and you’re certain Chrollo did too.

“You don’t deserve anyone being nice.”

“Kimmy. Upstairs now.”

He almost looked shocked when you told him off but he obeyed, quickly shoving what he could in his mouth before putting his plate in the sink. When he looked over his shoulder at you his bottom lip quivered; you held firm even though it hurt.+ He dropped his head turning to the stairs, he made sure to glare at his father as he made his way up. Who in turn had a ghost of a smile on his face as he watched his child stomp up the steps.

When you heard the eventual slam, a muffled apology, and the softer reclosing of the door you let yourself breathe again. Holding your head in your hands you prepared yourself for the talk you needed to have. All too soon the clinking of a fork against ceramic was heard once again. Slowly taking your hands from your face you glared at the thief, who was continuing to eat. Letting out a groan you were once again reminded of why you considered Chrollo Lucilfer a deadbeat. Somehow you sympathized with your son.

“See? You set yourself up for this.”

“It’s a phase. A normal response for a kid his age.”

“A normal response? For the boy who used to celebrate you’re visiting more than his birthday? I don’t think so. ”

You stood up taking your unfinished plate with you as you went to the kitchen. Looking over at the food still on the plate in the sink.

“What’s normal is for a teenager to express their anger this way, not a six-year-old.”

You leaned on the counter waiting for him to turn and defend himself. Chrollo didn’t look up from his plate so you continued.

“Don’t you remember how excited he used to be to see you?”

“Of course, I remember.” He cleared his plate. “But I also remember reading that psychiatrist’s diagnosis. It was bound to happen.”

“Later.”

He silently stood up with the plate joining you in the kitchen, moving to wash the dishes in the sink. You glared at him to which he smiled, making you roll your eyes. Taking your plate with you, you headed up the stairs.

______________________________________________________________

“I saw that you ate all your veggies. I’m really proud of you bud.”

You spoke through the door, sitting with your back to it as you played with the food on your plate. Hearing nothing from the other side, you went on.

“But you didn’t eat your cornbread.”

“‘M not hungry.”

Smiling to yourself. You leaned your head against the wooden door.

“You sure? Then you’re too full to help me finish?”

You caught yourself as the door opened up, closing the door behind you. You joined Kimmy sitting on the floor leaning against the wall. Playfully bumping into him you handed over the muffin-shaped bread over to him while you busied yourself with the rest of your food.

You two sat in silence each eating on your own. Finishing first, you quietly set your plate on the ground, turning to the boy beside you who was woefully looking at his unfinished bread. Letting your head lean onto his you waited for him to playfully push back letting a small smile come on his face.

“What was that about bud?”

He hesitated twirling the bread around in his hands.

“It’s just hard…for me.”

You scooped him into your lap hugging him tight as you kissed the top of his head. Tenderly wiggling your fingers in his black locks and squeezing him tight. He returned the hug holding onto your arms.

“I know it is bud. But I’m here and I always will be.”

*Smek.*

*Smek.* *Smek.* *Smek.* *Smek.*

“Okay okay! I’m sorry for doing…that at dinner.”

“Thank you, mister. Now finish your cornbread, we have to get you ready for bed. You have school in the morning.”

“Okay!”

______________________________________________________________

The hollering and nonsensical cacophony of a children’s playground wasn’t music to many. But it was to Kimmy. For him it meant more than just time to play with the other kids, it was the perfect cover for information exchanges.

“Hey, Kim-Kim do you want to play Cops n’ Robbers with us?”

“Sorry guys I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh…uh…right we’ll see you after recess.”

Kimmy couldn't help but smile as he dismissed himself back into the school building from the playground. Shaking his head, he had to come up with a better excuse. In all the comics he’s read the extras get suspicious after using the same excuse after a while. He’ll have to come up with something soon.

“Oya Kimmy-chan you slipped away again. So naughty~”

Kimmy feigned guilt as he put his hands up.

“Uh oh, Mr. Morrow you caught me!”

Like clockwork, they both returned to the classroom where they’d have their secret meeting.

“So I heard he came back yesterday.”

“Yeah, he even tried to win me back with the gifts just like you told me!”

Hisoka leaned his head on the back of his folded hands as he watched the little boy pace. His eyes resembled crescent moons as he smiled.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, and he was being really kissy with Mom! But I stopped it…or at least I tried to.”

His smile wavered.

“Tried to?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure when I went to bed they did more kissing! It was like no one was mad in the morning. She even hugged him before we left.”

“Hmmm.”

“I don’t know what to do. How can I get him to stay away if they still like each other so much?”

Hisoka held his chin as he pretended to think hard before lifting his finger at a grand idea. Kimmy listened expectantly.

“I have an idea. How about I become your Papa?”

Kimmy’s nose scrunched and his eyebrow raised.

“Think about it he comes back because he’s your Papa if he weren’t you’re Papa anymore he would need to be with (Y/n).”

“T-that’s a great idea!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I just have to convince Mom to marry you instead. It should work! They don’t even wear the ring anymore so maybe…”

The school bell rang. And it wasn’t long before the other children came pouring in. With a final look of confidence, Kimmy made his way back to his seat. Giddy with excitement, he was going to save his mom. Chase away the thieving monster that always came crawling back.

“Alright class, does anyone know the traits of Bungee Gum?”

______________________________________________________________

“Hisoka we need to talk.”

The chirping of birds and the distant sound of children’s laughter took away from your serious visage. Nonetheless, you kept your arms crossed and you’re tone leveled. In turn, your guest remained reclined against the park bench.

“Oh? You didn’t come to simply spend time with me?”

“Haha very funny. Let’s go.” You silently ushered the teacher to the parking lot. Where your car awaits. Wasting no time at all he slid into your passenger seat and you into the driver’s. Turning out from the lot you made you’re way to a familiar cafe, one you both were expected guests of.

“Kimmy is at karate so we have time.” As if he didn’t already know.+

“Ah, I see. I take it you’re treating me then?”

You groaned but relented as you both walked into the building. Ordering your respective favorites you sat in your favorite booth, tucked away from the main floor. Allowing you to have some semblance of privacy.

“Look you know I appreciate you nurturing Kimmy, he doesn’t have many men in his life and it helps him a lot.”

“Well, I’m glad. I can be of help.” You didn’t bother to comment on the fakeness of that comment.

“Which is the only reason why I thought I should bring this up.” You took a pensive sip of your drink before starting,” So recently he’s been talking about me getting married again.”

“Oh?” “And to you of all people.”

“Oh really?”

His smile and eyes brought no comfort, nor did it convince you that this was some random revelation. But you had no evidence and it very well could be a new aspiration of your suddenly rowdy son.

“Look, I just need you to tell him how that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Why should I do that?”

The gleeful smile was held up by his folded fingers. He tilted his head to the side maintaining his faux curiousity. Taking a nervous sip of your drink, you prepared for the lacking logic of a rebuttal he’d no doubt spearhead.

“Because it isn’t right. He doesn’t understand relationships well enough to have any say.”

“Then why be bothered at all?”

You groaned,” Because it’s unbecoming of a kid to claim your his father for no other reason than petty revenge.”

“Revenge? Again, who?”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance as you focused on the wooden grooves of the cafe’s table. You weren’t planning on informing him of the state of your home, knowing Hisoka he’d be the first to pounce on the mess that had sprouted suddenly. To play with the shambles of the family you were in. You didn’t need that.

“None of your business.” You paused when his eyes stopped smiling. “Look, just tell him you’ve got a girlfriend or something…there’s Illumi isn’t there?”

He hid a snicker behind his hand before taking a long drag of his fruity drink. Putting a wistful hand on his cheek he watches you’re fluster at his silence. The lighting does no favors for anyone but under the warm lighting, you still glowed.

To so kindly ask him was the equivalent of reasoning with a hunting lion. He’d already decided he’d enjoy inserting himself into your little home. As small and as unconventional as it was you all were thriving. But Hisoka wouldn’t call a spider’s infestation the trait of a blooming household and he’d enjoy wiping out the infestation.

“Ah, that is true.”

The perimeter was set. A line of traps waiting for the floating arachnid who failed to see the skeleton of a gorgeous life. Too focused on weaving their webs in the next treasure trove; he’d lose them both before he even realized.

“Hey, after this you want to go to the aquarium with me and Kimmy?”

“I’d love to~! But wouldn’t it be right to ask my girlfriend if that’s alright?”

“Please, he’d sooner smile than actually attend.”

“Want to bet?”

____________________________________________________

The sound of glass cracking broke the hacker’s attention, only for a minute though. Looking in the reflection of his bright screen he watched his leader and friend destroy the newest model of phone.

“Another one? Leader?”

It didn’t bother him. The troupe he was a part of had collected over ten shipments of them seven of which we’re going to a client. He only hoped to ease the fury that would no doubt be dictating their actions for the next month.

Chrollo didn’t respond.

A foreboding sign.

So Shalnark had to guess. Was the next heist leaked? The loss of a client? Or was it–?

“(Y/n) and Kimmy.”

The names were familiar but heavy on his tongue. Not because he was scared of them but for whatever reason lies stung the most when reporting to you two. Was it their embodiment of homeliness? Or the sweet warmth that spread just being around you two?

“My eyes were sniped.”

Chrollo wasn’t actually saying his eyes were gone. It was his contact. Employed solely for the purpose of watching the wife and children of one of the most notorious thieving leaders. They were gone.

“Any suspects?”

He was already accessing the satellite CCTV of the town and home of his leader’s spouse. Only to find a formidable firewall identical to that of government intelligence. A convincing copy but the attempt to shut him out wouldn’t be met without a persistent onslaught from this day forward.

“Whoever they are, they work quickly.”

Speaking to the leader who was staring intensely at the pop-up from over his shoulder. The lack of response only promised that Chrollo’s fury would not cease anytime soon.

“Guess we’ll be going back home soon.”

“Yup!”

Shalnark was prepared for the coming bloodshed.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hisoka #Yandere hisoka morrow #yandere phantom troupe #yandere shalnark #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #Yandere HunterXHunter

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undermine-the-instinct · 5 months

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A million Bucks

Chrollo x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Chrollo are both dorks waiting for any chance to info dump. Also. Chrollo gives you a million dollars. Literally, it's in the title.

thank @ddarker-dreams for their latest Chrollo concept amongst others inspiring me.

“Come! On! Enough exposition about the flowers, we’re going to miss it!” Watching your boyfriend go off on color and symbolism about each flower patch you passed in the botanical garden had been cute; You imagined him to have studied up on this ever since you expressed a desire to go. It was adorable, but if he kept talking like this the both of you were going to miss the sunset, and that was something you did not want to miss.

He lets you drag him by the arm, and in your huffy mood, you can just sense the amused little smile he wears, and you pull him along faster along the path.

“We still have around fifteen minutes before the sun sets, dear.”

“So? We can't just go when the sun is about to set–it's a gradual thing, watching the sky change color and such…Just trust me.” You pat his hand and he chuckles.

The hill is a perfect height, and you happily plop yourself down when you reach it, sighing in bliss.

“And now we wait.” There are already couples of all sorts sitting in the grass around you, and Chrollo immediately takes the spot next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

“So this is what you wanted to see.”

“Yes, isn’t it pretty? It’l be even prettier in a few moments.”

“Hm,” He puts a hand to his chin and you know he's about to ask one of his questions.

“Tell me, common folk tend to romanticize watching the sunset, but if removed from their conventional daily schedules, would a person be able to tell the difference between sunrise and a sunset?”

“I think it’s pretty easy to tell though? Daybreak is softer, pinks and blues and lavenders and the like. Though the same colors could be found here too…Maybe because it's more tranquil? Everyone is still mostly asleep during the daybreak so you can hear the birds and the like.”

“Yet I can hear the birds now as well. And, excluding telling factors such as sound or general aura, could you truly tell the difference?”

You shrug.

“I'm not sure? If you plopped a random person on a hill such as this, but with no accompanying factors of time– like the street lamps turning on, or the clock or business folk walking home— how would they know?”

Now he’s got you hooked, time to unload some of the random trivial knowledge you have stored in your brain. You tilt your head in thought and carry on.

“The sunset often has a more yellow tone though? Sunlight is composed of a multicolored spectrum, just like a rainbow. It passes through the atmosphere, which is a mix of gaseous molecules like oxygen and nitrogen and water vapor, at a slant as the sun drops towards the horizon. The atmosphere is thicker during this time since during the day, general activity and the sun’s beams cause molecules to swell and expand, so the sun’s light rays have a harder time traveling. The short blue and violet waves have a harder time traveling, even the yellow and orange ones, which is why more densely packed and thus polluted areas usually have red sunsets. We’re lucky today to see such a bright orange sunset, but I guess that’s just a testament to how clean the city is. I knew I voted right.”

You laugh under your nose, but soon a question pops in your mind.

“On another note though… these names that we give to these different times; Daybreak, dawn, dusk, twilight, noon, day and night…for a person who doesn’t know such things how would they apply them? Couldn’t daybreak also refer to the sunset, or to twilight, since that's when the day ‘breaks’ into night? Afternoon is pretty straightforward, but what is the concept of noon to someone who's never experienced it before? I mean, everyone has experienced noon but–”

You look up, and the light is so bright and orange for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw your lover covering a lovesick smile. He quickly transitions to wiping his mouth, and you’re left stupefied if that really happened. There is still the slightest red hue on his ears, and a glimmer in his eye, but that could just be the sunlight.

“Well that's getting into the topic of linguistics, and the pattern we apply to languages for the patterns we apply to our general lives. It varies greatly among language and culture, different regions and dialects. There's certain parallels though to be found. Like how in many languages, like Spanish, day is referred to with the masculine, in this case ‘Buenos’ and night as the feminine ‘Buenas’. Apollo and Artemis, Lugus and Rhiannon, Inti and Mama Quilla, Huītzilōpōchtli and Mētztli, etcetera.”

“Oh, but that's getting into gender and its role in religion. And what about cultures that are the opposite? Like Ameratsu and Tsukuyomi-no-mikoto? Sol and Máni? And at this point, if we’re speaking about an established and organized religion then that means that such patterns have already been set and defined, and our original question has already been answered by our hypothetical person or peoples.” You grin and lean in closer to him. His hand creeps along your thigh but you let it.

“Removing all factors, How could one tell the difference between a sunrise and a sunset? They’d have to rely on intuition, with the absence of context clues. Maybe they’d be able to tell, since humans are mostly Diurnal? What do you think?”

He just stares at you, drenched in the sun’s rays, and gosh he’s really freaking pretty. Modeling contract when?

But he just keeps staring, and now you notice the way his pupils are dilated, the way he's leaning in.

“Chrollo?”

“I think,” he licks his lips before he speaks. “That you’re going to miss your sunset if you keep on.” You’re already flailing a little before he finishes his sentence, and Chrollo can't help the expression on his face as you eagerly lift your head to the sparse clouds up above.

“As riveting your conversation is though.”

“Oh shush you, we almost missed it!”

True, the skies edges were being beaten into blooming shades of indigo and plum, slipping into a golden orange and bleeding red at its sinking core. It was nothing he hadn't already seen before.

But you were acting like it was your first time; Your widened eyes glowed in the reflection of the sun, painting you in golden armour. It painted your hands, gilded your hair, lay heavy over your eyelids, and slick across your mouth like honey, opened slightly in awe. It seemed to almost pool on your tongue, and he so wanted a taste.

“Why are you staring at me?” You say, not keen to pull your eyes away. More's the pity. If you turned your head you would catch a glimpse of a man so besotted, drowning willingly in a love he never once thought he’d ever be able to experience.

“I seem to find you more captivating dearest.”

Your brow pinches, adorably, but you scoff a laugh.

“Don’t be silly, you see me almost every day. You’ve seen my face a hundred times.”

“And I've seen the sunset a thousand more. So why would I choose to look at a dying star when I can stare at you?”

The sun is almost gone, but the red hue on your face doesn’t fade, and something in Chrollo’s chest warms; purrs and curls, like a snake.

He inches forward while you huff.

“Mister Casanova over here trying to be smooth…Just what are you thinking?”

It might be indecent, the way his hand smooths along your inner thigh, but he finds he doesn’t care. Neither do you, when you finally turn to look at him, and your breath hitches with how close he is. It's getting darker, but not all of the street lamps are on.

“I’m thinking…” And he smooths your hair away from your neck. You shiver. “That right now, I'm much too endeared by you to deny you anything you might ask.”

“Oh really?” Your tone is amused, disbelieving but he nods. Goodness he was…Ah, how did Uvo and Shalnark put it again? Whipped?

“Okay, I want a million dollars.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Alright.”

“Alright? Don't tell me you’re that easy love.”

“I’m afraid I am, for you dear… Is there anything else you desire?” You flush darker, but in a bold move you grab onto his collar and drag him down into the grass for a kiss.

Your mouth does taste sweet.

A few days later, you were relaxing at home…Until you decided to go to your local coffee shop and treat yourself. Your favorite barista made your drink perfectly, and you checked your bank account to see whether you could give them a more generous tip then your usual, to find something very shocking. Now you’re pacing your bedroom with your phone pressed to your ear.

“.....Yes, dear?” Finally he picks up. You immediately lay into him.

“Chrollo? Honey, dear, darling, apple of my eye, gem of my heart…I seem to be in a bit of a conundrum.”

“Is that so? How about you explain it to me so I can help you.”

“That's exactly why I called. Now, can you tell me why there is suddenly an extra one million dollars in my bank account? Hm?” You know it's his fault. You know it.

“Hm. Maybe your boss gave you a raise?”

“Oh, is that so?”

“You have been working hard dearest.” Cheeky bastard.

“Chrollo.” He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel like the top of your head is going to blow off.

”Chrollo.”

“Alright, alright. It was me.”

“And why in the nine circles would you do that?”

He’s silent over the line for a minute, you can only hear the hum of his car, so you assume he‘s driving, wherever he is.

“Well, you asked for it.”

“What–”

“As your spouse, isn’t it my duty to attend to your every want and need?” You slam the phone down on your bed, and immediately smack face down into a pillow, and scream. What the hell. You can hear his muffled voice on the side, and pick the phone back up after about a minute of suffering.

“Are you alright dearest?”

“My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.”

“Oh? Now that won't do. Would another million make you feel better?”

“I will literally leave you if you do that.”

“I always knew you were a thief. Not content with just my heart, are you?”

You sigh hard and pinch the bridge of your nose. There is an anxiousness curling tight and hot in your belly, and his amused tone of voice isn’t helping.

“Where did you even get this kind of money?”

“I won the lottery.” You yell his name and he laughs, full on laughs, you’re sure your face is completely red by now.

“I'm truly serious.”

“I’m not going to accept that as an excuse.”

“Fine. Then it was inheritance from a rich estranged aunt of mine. Perhaps I'm secretly the CEO of a major conglomerate. Or perhaps I own a couple of mines. Maybe I got lucky with the stocks I invested in. Whatever makes it easiest for you to accept, darling.”

“Accept what?”

“I think we both know what I’m alluding to.” There's that tone of voice again. That tone.

Sometimes, Chrollo just…puts you on edge. There was always something eerie about him, and while he could shrug it off and be his dashing, charming self, you couldn't deny that he sometimes made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

He was too observant, you could never sneak up on him. Never. And he liked to stare, a lot. He was also crazy observant–bringing up little tidbits of info and conversation you brought up years ago with perfect clarity. He acted the most odd when you were your authentic self, like he was simultaneously amused and fascinated by your ‘quirks’.

Like when you would stop to talk to and help strangers, or when you’d return a wayward shopping cart to its right place, or when you stop to pet the local stray cats. You had always brushed it off with probably him being jaded, a bit awkward (he doesn't get internet lingo, he doesn't know basic meme culture but can tell you in excruciating detail where the murderer went wrong in whatever documentary you’re watching), but you cared for him. The good outweighed the strange, right?Even if he was gone so often, or never took off the wrapping around his forehead or changed in front of you, or how he could sometimes move so fast.

Your partner is creepy, honestly. But who doesn't want a borderline cryptid boyfriend? You stay with him anyways.

Maybe that's to your own detriment.

You sigh again, feeling like five years has been taken off your life. “You can't just drop a million dollars into my bank account Chrollo.”

“And why not?”

“Because… Because!! A million dollars Chrollo?”

“I see no issue with it. And I’m not taking it back.” He cuts you off before you can start your next sentence.

“I don’t see much value in material wealth. It makes no difference to me. Consider it disposable income.”

“Spoken like a true bourgeois.I can’t believe I betrayed my fellow man for a blood sucking parasite.” You wipe a fake tear away.

“‘Parasite’? I'm quite partial to spiders myself.”

“Ew, whatever.” Of course he would like spiders. “I’m donating your money to charity then.”

“Alright then. It’s your money now dear.”

“...You’re amused by all this, aren’t you.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” sounds of traffic overtake the line as he goes silent for a moment.

“I’m just endeared by your humility and generosity. But there's no need for theatrics dear. What's mine is mine, and what's mine is yours,” you can just imagine the smugness radiating behind that genial smile.

“And naturally, you are mine, so my point stands..”

You’re silent, and Chrollo waits for your response. You just sigh again, and shake your head.

“I can’t understand you sometimes.”

“There's no need for you to, darling. Just indulge me.”

“Yeah? And what would you like?” You tease, slipping into familiar territory. He hums in thought as if he doesn’t already know what he wants.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight. No fuss from you.”

“You already made a reservation huh.”

“Of course. Five star." Oh dear goodness, this man is going to be the death of you.

Well, at least if you fall ill due to the stress of being with such a man you can actually cover your bills, and then some.

“So what do you want me to wear?”

“Something long sleeve, we’ll be dining on the open balcony.”

“You’ll just give me your coat if I get chilly. Anyways, I asked you what you want me to wear?” He goes quiet and you try not to grin.

“You said indulge you, right?”

He’s quiet over the line, before he laughs low, and despite yourself there is a flutter in your gut.

“You’re a wonder Darling.” he mutters something about ‘missing this later’ but before you could make head or tails of that he continued.

“Wear something black. Surprise me.” You roll your eyes and yourself off the bed, padding over to your closet.

“You and your monochromes…Alright, where are you?”

“Just a few blocks away.”

“That hardly gives me enough time to get ready.”

“No need to rush, we have time. I set the reservation for eight tonight, so you still have a few hours.”

“Then why did you come so early?”

“What if you need help zipping up your dress?” You laugh, and close the closet, having grabbed what you needed.

“Whatever, let yourself in with the mat key. We’ll talk about your disposable income when you arrive. And you can put the roses away yourself when you come.”

His voice is smooth and deep with mirth. “How did you know I brought roses?”

“You always do, dear.” You hear the sound of a car roll up to the driveway and grin, hanging up the phone. You rush into the bathroom to get ready.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucifer x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #chrollo lucifer #hxh #my writing #my stuff #my works #yandere hunter x hunter x reader

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Winter Wonderland.

Yan Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2k.

Bleary blankets of snow beat down on the isolated cabin you inhabit.

The hearth does what it can to stave off the relentless assault of nature, yet the biting chill sinks its teeth into you nonetheless. You glare at the frosted-over window as if the glass is a personal affront to you. An argument could be made that this architecture was intentionally sought out for its dilapidated quality and the certain advantages poor insulation could bring. A working theory, but the indignation it stokes within you is the most reliable source of heat you’ve discovered thus far.

The wind vocalizes a shrill aria, accompanied by the off-beat thump of loose roof tiles struggling to remain tethered. This orchestral procession keeps your mind on high alert. Exhaustion is a temptation you shoo away to the best of your ability. It’s difficult to imagine a restful slumber when every sound hints at some imminent collapse.

“Aren’t you cold?” Chrollo calls over, as if he actually needs your confirmation. “There’s plenty of room over here.”

What a revelation! Indeed, courtesy of your occipital lobe and functioning eyes, you’re capable of discerning the information he’s oh so generously provided. You grit your teeth and succumb to another shivering spell. Pride is a curse and you’re undoubtedly damned. Chrollo is the one who led you into this problem and still thinks himself deserving of offering a solution. He’s situated directly in front of the fireplace, on a loveseat, moved over to the left side in waiting for your inevitable resignation.

“Hypothermia is distinctly unpleasant, dear.”

You roll your eyes. You’re about to thank him for sharing such esoteric knowledge with you, when an alarming realization settles in.

Your hands are starting to go numb.

The crackling fireplace exerts a magnetic pull you’re growing increasingly unable to resist. Your survival instincts commit mutiny, overthrowing your incessant need to be as spiteful with Chrollo as humanly possible. Before you know it, your feet are moving in his direction of their own accord. You’d like to accuse him of using one of those Nen abilities, though when you get closer, his precious book is nowhere to be seen.

He pats the empty cushion beside him at your continued reluctance.

Thankfully, there are no demeaning words on his part when you resign yourself to your fate. Your weary legs cheer at this opportunity to relax. The rest of your body is already reaping the benefits too, thawing the layer of cold you were encased in. It seems whatever higher power exists has seen fit to continue smiling upon you, for Chrollo shares his blanket without you needing to grovel.

“Is that better?” Chrollo queries. You eye him with undisguised suspicion. This amiable mood of his is odd, a departure from the usual script. How much of it is manufactured or genuine is inscrutable. You try to read his face, like you’ve attempted thousands of times before, inspecting each crevice for hints you’ll never find.

He surprises you by chuckling. The sound is breathless, almost melancholic. It makes you frown.

“It never ceases to amaze me, just how many ways you can express your hatred without needing to utter a word,” he tilts his head, inspecting you in the same way you did him. He’s grown closer without you realizing it. He’s akin to a disease that way — always encroaching where he’s never welcome. “Does it make you feel better?”

“Yes,” your reply is instantaneous. His lips quirk up, but it’s far from a content smile. “However, it’s not for the reason you think.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Hesitation returns. You’re falling into his cadence, lulled like a lamb to slaughter. Having your brain picked by Chrollo is as regular a daily activity as eating. You’ve never arrived at a singular reason to explain his obsession with the act; whether it be depravity, curiosity, or to satiate the need for human contact he can’t get elsewhere. Perhaps it’s a mixture of all three. A malformed cocktail with ingredients too noxious to palate.

You’ll never get used to the taste, so it’s best to down it all at once.

“There’s something truly sad about you,” you lift your hand to touch his cheeks, made rosy from winter’s unforgiving embrace. It gives you the false impression of a cherub, the very being he’s the antithesis of. “You don’t know yourself, so you must dissect others. It’s safer that way. You don’t run the risk of discovering something unsightly if you never search in the right place.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was under the thrall of a hypnotist’s pocket watch. His gaze is distant yet somehow present, fluctuating between two extremes.

“It’s an interesting theory,” he allows. His voice is playful whereas his expression is not — you note the dissonance. “I can tell you’ve considered it at length. Do you think about me often, sweetheart?”

You sidestep the bait he’s set out for what must be the umpteenth time. “That was the primary goal behind the creation of solitary confinement, yes. Forcing the inmate to think.”

The jab at your living arrangement doesn’t go unnoticed. He raises an eyebrow.

“About themselves, wasn't it?”

“And the warden too,” you reaffirm.

He closes his eyes — contemplating whether to press you on this subject or another, no doubt — then reopens them with newfound conviction. “You’ve yet to explain your original point.”

“I was getting there, when someone saw fit to interrupt,” you huff. He never fails to get on your nerves. “Yeah, I’m sure petty satisfaction has something to do with it. You’re not above that yourself. It’s more than that, though. It’s about choice. It’d probably be easier if I went along with all your whims and acted the part of a starry-eyed lover. Then I remember you are who you are because you made the easy choices. So I don’t want to.”

Chrollo doesn’t bother trying to conceal the interest this piques in him. “You think I’ve made the ‘easy choices’ to get where I am today?”

A premonition coils its tendrils around you then, attempting to constrict you before you wander into volatile land. There’s no threatening lilt in his voice yet, or the look that tells you to keep your mouth shut before you regret it, but you’re getting there. Traipsing a steadily fraying line when it’d be simpler to cower back to safety.

It’s a wonder what you’re looking at is a human being. That your hand is touching skin, which bleeds when broken just as yours does.

“Cruelty is almost always easier than kindness. It’s our natural condition. That’s where humans are special, distinct from any other organism. Our capacity for growth. We can become kind, although we’re born cruel. I think that is strength. That is the difficult choice. Which is why you and the other Spiders don’t make it,” you drop your hand, finding it sufficiently warmed. “You refer to people as ‘puppets’ because it’s easier that way. You kill and steal for the same reason.”

Another smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were such a humanist.”

“You didn’t?” Your expression conveys your disbelief. “I thought that’s the entire reason I’m here.”

“That’s certainly part of it.”

There’s unsteady silence for a moment. Most days, he’d counter your points and nitpick every little detail with the fanaticism of a zealot. For whatever reason, this method doesn’t interest him now, he seems content to take what you’re dishing out. Is he trying his hand at self-flagellation or something? Whatever the case, you’ve spoken your piece.

You turn your attention away to the fire. Its glow swaths the rustic room in a reddish hue. If you were here with anyone else, you might go so far as to call it cozy. That was probably Chrollo’s intention behind choosing the locale. The snowstorm holding you hostage was just an added bonus.

An arm slithers its way around your shoulders. You sigh but bite your tongue. The addition of his body heat at least has a practical use; he once mentioned mastery over Nen includes the ability to manipulate one’s physiology at will. That must be nice in conditions like this.

He tugs you toward his side, and you relent, knowing you lack the strength to put up a meaningful fight.

“I admire your tenacity,” he reveals. You stay trained on the flickering flames. “Most would shrivel up in fear before they spoke to me that way.”

“Should I fear you?”

“A little,” Chrollo hums. “Everything in moderation.”

The branch from a nearby tree beats incessantly against the window. You jump, attempting to twist your body to the left where the sound originated, but Chrollo’s grip grows impossibly tight. You may as well have been wearing a straight jacket. Figuring it’s just his way of reasserting dominion over you, you don’t bother dwelling on it.

“[First].”

It’s rare that he says your name. You’re normally assailed with sickeningly sweet monikers like dear or sweetheart, a tendency you’re half-convinced he developed to irritate you. Swallowing down your dread, you prepare yourself for the potential fruits of your earlier premonition.

“Hm?”

“You’re right that I chose to be this way,” he says. This catches your interest. “Whether or not it was an ‘easy’ decision by your definition of the word… I’m unsure. I became someone worth fearing out of necessity.”

His earlier melancholy weighs heavy in the air.

“That’s just as well. I don’t regret it. No… it’d be more accurate to say I’m grateful for it. Say I chose the ‘difficult’ path. Exemplified the virtues you hold so dear. I’d be awfully miserable in this proposed universe of yours.”

This is a trap you can’t sidestep. “Why?”

His lean fingers dance up and down your forearm. “Cruelty is my natural element, you said so yourself. I’d be denying the desire I was born with. I may even be denied you, consequently. What allows me to have you here, like this, the subject of your undivided attention and object of your thoughts? Is it kindness? Morality?”

His espousing of libertine values is nothing new to you, yet the resonance of his words is deeply unsettling. It’s as if they’re dawning on him for the first time. That by entertaining your discourse, you took him by the hand and personally led him to this conclusion. Nurtured a nascent idea he never would’ve found otherwise.

You feel cold again.

“No, it’s none of those things. I have you because I played dirty, [First],” his chest rumbles when he chuckles. “You are a wonder I can never lose my appetite for, every taste has me longing for more. Your mind, your heart, your soul… you bare them all so willingly, with a little prompting. How many would you have benefited if I never interfered in your life?”

It’s agony — still, you wrench yourself against his hold, to the degree he must loosen it, lest he break you — mustering up all your malice to glower at him. If you were capable of exerting bloodlust, it’d certainly be thick enough to devour anyone it came into contact with. You have no such parapsychological abilities, so you settle on what you can do, your animosity raw.

Chrollo’s eyes soften with warmth only you can draw out. “I’ll be the sole benefactor of your effulgence. If given the opportunity to do it again, I wouldn’t hesitate to go down the path that ends with you.”

Your lips part and then close.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to adhere to mind over matter. A few seconds that carry the weight of eternity pass. You relax your posture to the best of your abilities, your shoulders drooping and your body heavy as lead.

Once again, you raise your hand to touch the cheek you held earlier.

It’s wet.

“… I meant what I said earlier,” you observe the glistening of his skin with an impassive expression. “There’s something terribly sad about you, Chrollo Lucilfer.”

If he’s incapable of acknowledging this reality, you’re more than willing to.

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #my stuff

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sk3tch404 · 1 year

Text

The pookies are here!!! Omg Nobunaga :3

My hxh fixation is slowly coming back to me 😨

If you saw the old caption no you didn't

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere nobunaga #yandere chrollo #yandere phinks #yandere fetain #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere phantom troupe #yandere art #yandere drawing #art #drawing #my doodle baboodles

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hailcelestia · 10 months

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Hi I'm not sure if you'll get this request but if it's okay can I please ask for a yandere killua with a quiet darling that wears Jirai Kai fashion because of their abandonment issue's /mental health issues and because it's cute

It kind of makes me think of it as a coping mechanism

🖤 Thank you for the request! I apologize for the inactivity.

Finally got a break from school. I love Jirai Kei, so this was pretty fun.

🖤

I made his side of the post blue to contrast with you because I thought it was cute

While he is perceptive, I don’t think he would notice something so constant about you being an expression of your mental health.

Unless he saw the you incorporating the more injury-like aspects such as bandages (if excessive), or fake blood, he wouldn’t question it in the slightest. He knows better than to mistake it for real blood, but the bandages might catch his attention, mostly if they were new or looked dirtied.

He doesn’t suspect much of your self-expression until he sees something that could indicate or directly display your specific issues. Questionable drawings, a journal, or maybe a stuffed animal mimicking injuries you’ve had before.

Of he doesn’t go out of his way to search your room, but if he does end up finding something, that’s what would make him start second-guessing your overall behavior. You’ve always been like this, sure, but he started to question if your silence was caused by a lack of self-expression that you found elsewhere. That leads him to thoughts telling him he must’ve done something wrong for you to not mention your issues. This is the first time he will ever take your quiet demeanor personally.

If you’re a more open or direct person, you would easily give him the honest answer. However, that might make him even more suspicious, as he wouldn’t go out of his way to confront you about something that wasn’t really your fault.

He’d start blaming himself for any lack of communication on your part, he’d start to overanalyze what he previously perceived as just your regular behavior in his state of self-doubt.

Eventually he’d also start suspecting other people around you, even if they weren’t the cause of your issues. What if they were making it worse? Though even during spiral of paranoia, he’d prioritize being kind to you, whether or not he’s there for you is most important.

He will not make his issues yours, you might never know he was worried about you. That is, if his behavior didn’t already change by this point. You’d notice normal household items that could be used as sharp objects either stored neatly where you couldn’t see them or missing altogether. He’d hold onto you more frequently, and for once he’d actually be concerned if you saw something that could influence you.

He wouldn’t stop your self-expression of any kind, despite his tendencies, he does believe in your freedom. This is yours and he won’t ruin it. He’d just be even more involved in your life.

He loves you very much, please don’t forget that. ⚡️

#hxh x reader #yandere hxh headcannons #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hxh #yandere killua #yandere killua x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere zoldyck #yandere hxh x reader imagines

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cheesecakethots · 5 months

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“Uvogin… I’m tired… not tonight, please…” for the ask game, thank you!

Your back is tugged to his chest, and his muscular arms have you trapped in a warm embrace that leaves you feeling sickly. It’s not as though there’s anywhere you can run to in these deep, dark woods. Despite your hatred for your captor, you have to admit that he does make you feel safe in this unsafe place.

Safe from everything that’s not him.

His large calloused hand pauses above your stomach, and something akin to a grumble leaves his lips.

“I ain’t tryin’ to fuck you,” he murmurs, lips tickling your ear, and then uses the hand to push you even tighter against him. “You’re cold, aren’t you?”

You are, but that’s not entirely the reason for your trembling.

God, this entire situation is so fucked. How long has he been dragging you from one abandoned building, to tent, to freezing woodland, to the next? Months? A year, now? You haven’t kept count, but even if you did you would’ve forgotten a long time ago now. You don’t even realise what you’re saying until it’s been said.

“I wa-wanna go home.”

It’s pretty pathetic, the way your voice shakes and your lip quivers and a sob crawls its way up your throat. Uvogin hasn’t seen you cry like this in a while.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, leaving you to ponder whether he’s going to sit you over his knee, tug on your hair or, at worst, break a bone.

You feel him lean his face further into the back of your head, breathing in deeply.

“Shh. Go to sleep. We need to get up early in the mornin’, I’m meeting the others a few cities away.”

Your eyes close and you silently pray that maybe one day he’ll leave you alone to go on one of his ‘jobs’ and he won’t come back.

You doubt it.

#tw yandere #yandere #tw.yandere #yanderecore #yandere hxh #yandere uvogin #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter

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novasdarling · 1 year

Text

Growing Pains

Yandere! Illumi x reader

TW: Kidnapping Hinted, Pregnancy, Zoldyck Child Training(Idk what to label it as), Sort of Forced Pregnancy and Dubcon, Female Reader.

A cry woke you from your sleep again. It had to be the fifth time in the last few hours that she had woken up. Heading towards the crib near your bed, you checked to see why Sora was crying again. She couldn’t be hungry again, you swore you had just fed her not too long ago. You silently prayed she wasn’t teething yet, you weren't ready for that. Picking her up, you both sat on the bed. Trying to calm her down so you two could sleep again. Usually, she was in her own room with butlers that came to answer her calls at night, like with the other kids. But when Illumi was gone, it was nice to have another in the room with you at night. Even if she wouldn’t sleep.

Trying to hush her to bed seemed to be insignificant. A knock at the door proved that.

“Mrs Illumi.” You always hated how they referred to as that. Always linking you to Illumi. Master Illumi’s wife. Mrs Illumi. Mrs Zoldyck. Never just your name. “If you please, I can take her back to her nursery.” A butler had walked in. She was new but extremely sweet. You wondered how the hell she got here.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you though.”

The butler left, leaving you with a crying baby. She was the fussiest of all your kids. The others were better sleepers by miles. There was nothing you could really do right now, you had changed her, fed her, rocked her. Looking down at her, wondering what would make her cry like this. You needed to calm her, it would be embarrassing to have to call the butler back because you had failed. Failed to get your own child to rest. She was your child, you should be able to do this. Holding Sora closer, you hummed an old lullaby your own mother used to sing to you. It was more for you than her, a way to calm yourself down. If she sensed your tiredness and stress it would only make things worse.

The cries had finally stopped, looking down you saw Sora peacefully sleeping. It worked, the lullaby got her to sleep. Silently thanking your mother's need to sing all the time. You moved to lay Sora back into the bedside crib, but when you put her down, she woke. She just wouldn’t let you be. Taking her back into your arms, you laid her down on the bed near you. Making sure the bed was cleared on her side. Luckily Illumi had gotten the biggest bed possible. You kept your hand on Sora’s stomach. Humming and rubbing her, trying your best to get her back to sleep. Soon the cries stopped, her heavy eyes closed and so did yours. Both of you letting exhaustion win. Getting the much-needed sleep you both had been deprived all night.

The morning light shining through the window had lit up your room. The drawn back curtains had allowed the golden light to fall in and unfortunately hit your eyes. Waking you up. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, looking to the side expecting to see Sora, instead being met with an empty bed. Shooting up you looking around. She wasn’t by your bed, not in her crib. Where was she?

“Sora, Sora? Oh, god where is she?” You were running around the room the room, scared she fell off the bed and crawled somewhere.

“Mrs Illumi. Please relax. Sora is in the nursery with her siblings.”

It was the same butler as last night, she must have heard you running around the room shouting and came in. Her words calmed you down. She or one of the others most of gotten her before you woke up. You let out a breath of relief. She was safe and fine. Thanking and dismissing her, you got ready. Wanting to go see the kids in the nursery.

All you wanted to do was play with the children today, but Illumi was set to arrive back home soon. He'd never allow you to put all your attention on them when he was there. Dressing in Illumi’s favourite dress, as he was supposed to come home after dinner and always liked you ready to greet him in an outfit he enjoyed. It was like this ever since he had taken you as his wife. He had strict rules for you and the children. It was better when you played the part of the perfect wife. After all these years, it had gotten easier. Especially after having Mary and Silva, the twins. You had them to focus on when he was gone, to distract you from him. Illumi even seemed to change. He had always been somewhat kind to you, after all he had taken you and made you his wife because he stated he loved you. But before the twins he was awkward, not knowing how to communicate with you. All he did before was keep the bed warm with you and spoil you in gifts. Even then, it was detached. It was clear he didn’t know what to do with you besides the occasional conversation, sitting in silence, and sex. At least now he was more aware what was needed in a relationship.

Once ready you headed to the nursery. The butler told you all of them there playing. It was nice that there were still moments they could be kids, even if they belonged to the Zoldyck family. Heading down the hall until you came to the room. The nursery was on the other side of the hall. Illumi stated it was best to keep them far from your two’s room. You argued which made him settle on allowing them to have their rooms on the same floor as yours.

Walking into the room you were met with a different view than what you expected. The kids were playing, but they weren't alone. It wasn’t the usual butler that was watching them, no it was Illumi.

“Hello dear. You look wonderful.”

“You’re home early. I thought you were homing after dinner.”

He explained that the target was easier than originally thought so he was able to come home earlier. Illumi was sitting on the couch, holding Sora while watching the other kids play. They all had some features of his. Whether it be his long hair, his height or his large eyes. At least those that did have his eyes didn't have the emptiness like his. According to Kikyo, their eyes were almost like yours. Held the same emotions as yours, but were his shape. Only Silva and Sora looked more like you. Though Silva had his grandfather’s white hair. Born with a full head of it, Kikyo demanded that he have a family name. You were so tired you would have agreed to anything to get everyone away from you and get some rest.

Illumi signalled you over. Putting Sora on the ground to be swarmed by her siblings. Then pulling you down to sit on his lap. A hand on your waist and one on your thigh. He began to talk about his target. How easy it was, the method and plan he used. You always hated how he talked about these things in Infront of the children. They were still so young, but then again, he always told you that soon they would be joining him. It was hard to look at the twins and think that even though they were only eight, they were already getting trained. Being prepared to be taken out on missions with their father. No matter how much you loved them, they would always be seen as possessions of the Zoldyck family. Belonging to Illumi, not you.

“Sweetie, don’t push your brother.” You went to get up, but Illumi held you down.

“Let them be. They can figure things out on their own.”

Illumi went back to ranting about whatever he pleased until he called the butlers in to take the children to training. You tried to ask him to let them stay longer, you had just woken up. Yet, once again Illumi’s word was final. Once the kids left, he led you out of the nursery and back towards the bedroom. Signalling for you to help him undress, he knew you rather have him change his clothes once he got home. It was foolish, but it made you feel like what he did wasn't real if he changed clothes.

“We should have another.”

What

“You-we, I thought we were only going to have the four?” You two already had the twins, Kilian and Sora.

“Yes, but you seem happy with the kids." He turned to look at you. Scanning your face. "Lay down on the bed.”

He was standing there shirtless while your hands were still helping him with his pants zipper. There was no arguing with him. You originally thought after the twins he’d stop but then Kilian came a few years after that and Sora after that. To you, the others weren't planned. At least not on your part. It was only after you found out you were pregnant with Sora that he revealed he wanted four. Illumi tended to do what he pleased with you. In a sense, you were lucky he even brought it up instead of just doing it.

You laid on the bed, watching as he finished undressing. You realized you were still dressed. Your attempts to get undressed were stopped by him. Illumi telling you to just remove your underwear. Doing as he said, sliding them down and off your legs while Illumi watched. His eyes refusing to look away as he crawled on the bed between your legs. He held position you in the middle of the bed. Keeping himself in the middle of your legs. Using his hands to hold them apart while he lowered his head. Moving towards your clit, sucking on it. He was good, too good. It was rather annoying, especially since he was so good at reading you. Listening and watching you to see what worked best, what drove you crazy and right now. He was succeeding. The way his lips attached around your clit, the way he used his tongue. It made you a moaning mess, struggling to get away from him. Only to have his hand come up and hold your hip down. It was mind-numbing in an amazing way. The way his tongue was swirling around your clit was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It wasn’t fair how he did this to get his way. Make you a puddle so he could do what he pleased. It wasn’t fair, but then again it was better than when you first got here. He just would position you and did what he pleased. Barely even warming you up.

“Good. Almost there.”

You were more than almost there. You were at the edge ready to fall off. Just a few more swirls and you were screaming his name. Gripping his hair, unsure if you wanted to pull him away or bring him closer. It was intense. You were still catching your breath as Illumi wiped off his face and lined himself up. You could barely look straight, too much in a daze. Not focusing on him moving and lining himself up, until you felt his tip at your entrance.

“I-Illumi, I don’t k-know.”

“Shh. I’m not done.”

He wasn’t a man of words unless he wanted to be condescending or rude. Then he seemed to be very skilled with them. It was best to lay back and let him enjoy himself now. If you were good for him, he’d make sure you enjoy it too. But the idea that he wanted another kid was blocking that idea. Were you ever going to get a break from having kids? Sora wasn’t even a year old, this was sooner after than the others.

“Illumi, please, S-Sora's too young.”

“I want a few more and now.” Illumi dipped his head to your ear. Littering a few kisses by your temple and the shell of your ear. While he pushed in. “You always look good-mmmm so tight-when you have my baby.”

His pace was slow while he pushed into you and let you get used to him. The stretch had gotten better over time, it was less intense than the first few times you two were together. Then again, Illumi also learned to focus on getting you warmed up first.

His thrusts were speeding up. His gentleness only lasted so long, he liked to get you off first so he could focus on him. He was selfish in nature, but better than before. His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his hips slammed against yours.

“Good. So good.”

Illumi was in the heat of the moment. Losing himself in your cunt. Fucking into you roughly. The way he was aiming his hips. Trying to get as deep in as possible. Wanting to also hit your sweet spot. It felt good, rough, but good. If he just slowed down a bit he would last longer and make you cum around him.

“Illumi! Illumi! Please, s-slow down. Please.”

“No. I’m almost done.” He was attempting to keep his composer. It was faint, but there was some strain in his voice. “I’m going to put another baby in you.”

He leaned back for a moment, pushing your legs up against your chest into a mating press. Allowing himself to get deeper. He was getting close to becoming too much. You wanted to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than you and once he was in the moment, there was very little you could do to push him away.

His grunts were loud and clear in your ear. Letting you know how much enjoyed being with you. He was hitting your sweet spot, ramming into it over and over. He was close, his thrusts were getting sloppy. You were getting close too. It wasn’t fair that he was making you feel so good when this wasn't really for you. He wanted another kid. You knew if he could, he’d probably keep you pregnant all the time.

“You looked good this morning. Laying in bed with Sora. Such a good mom” So that was it. Illumi was getting messy now, something that rarely happened. “I want more.”

The buildup was becoming too much. You clamped down on him, causing him to cum when you did. He held you tighter as he stilled. Filling you as much as he could and as deep as possible. While you were clawing at his back. Illumi was grinding into you, riding out his high. You were trying to catch your breath under him. Both of you lay there coming down from your highs. He came down faster than you, moving off of you to lay beside you. Watching your chest rise and fall trying to catch your breath.

“I hope for another boy like Silva. He’s getting further than I was at his age. Kilian seems to be too sensitive like you.”

Illumi was right, Kilian tended to come back from training in tears. It melted your poor heart. You never wanted this for them. If only all of them were more like Illumi. Mary tended to be a good spy, always telling her dad what you had been up to while he was away. He trained her well. You couldn’t help the way your eyes teared thinking of what your kids had become. They once were innocent little babies like Sora, but even she was receiving some training now and when she got older. She would become like the others.

“They’re kids Illumi...”

“Yes, my kids. They are part of the Zoldyck family and so will the others we have.” He moved closer, sitting up slightly and looking down at you. “I thought we were over this.”

“You're right, I'm sorry."

You remembered how you would cry and beg him to leave the twins alone when they started their training. Sometimes he'd lock you away as punishment so you wouldn't be able to see them for weeks. Spending that time alone crying over them. It was better to let him take them if it meant you could patch up their wounds after and be with them. It was cruel either way.

"Why do you want more now though? Sora is still so young.”

“I saw you with Sora this morning. You were so peaceful with her, you always looked that peaceful when pregnant. You always looked good.”

You smiled at his words. He was always the horniest when you were pregnant or when you two were trying. There was no arguing with him. You thanked him and laid a kiss on his lips. Illumi had come far from all those years ago. He was still cold and calculated, but at least now. Now he had his moments when he was alone with you and occasionally with the kids.

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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months

Note

Yan chrollo + “Chrollo, where have all my romance books gone?”

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, alcohol, not SFW implications, and drugging.

Word Count: 550.

*~*~*~*

All of your things are gone, not just those books. No, that would be too easy for someone like him, and too lax of a punishment for someone like you.

Is it a punishment, though? Or is he just playing with you? You hope for the latter, unsurprisingly.

You can’t wait to be able to stand up again, you haven’t eaten or drank much ever since feeling a bit lightheaded a few minutes ago, the moment that Chrollo asked how good today’s dinner was.

Bastard.

“I simply wanted to entertain both of us with a game.” A claim much too innocent for someone like him, but also something far too simple. “A game. That is all, nothing more and nothing less. If you win, I’ll give them back.”

Is this a lie or a half-truth or something else entirely?

“You’re stranger and creepier than me looking outside and seeing the tentacles of a giant squid coming out of the hotel across the street.” Hmm, a raised eyebrow as a response instead of words. “Forget it, I’ll find something else to do.”

A bluff, really, because you can’t really stand up, and because you don’t know what became of all your other things like your shoes, your diary, your three succulents… everything is just gone, and you know why.

“When have I ever gone so low, darling?” Sarcasm, you think, from the way he crosses his arms so nonchalantly and puts the pack of mint gum back by the bouquet of roses, which he will have to replace soon at the speed at which they are wilting.

“Last month.” As above, so below. “You were making breakfast. I don’t remember anything other than waking up in the late afternoon of that day with a painful migraine. You did something, but you refused to tell me what.”

Everything was hazy then and still is now. How much did he put in your drink this time? Or did he put something in your food? Will he ever tell you what it is or was?

“I promise I only have the best intentions for our relationship.” A relationship is quite the strong word, you want to say. “You. Me. Drinking, watching a movie of your choosing perhaps, and having a few laughs. We’ll relax.” A full truth? “We will show each other what no one else has seen. No one else.”

You scoff. “I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately a certain black-haired fellow has caused me to feel ill.” Technically, you’re not lying. “Physically and emotionally and everything else in all other aspects. …But what happens if I lose? If I can't stand up?” A question you are forced to ask. Temptation and coercion go hand in hand, after all.

Like the light of an angler fish, Chrollo’s eyes swing back and forth, and you have to look closer to notice anything wrong.

“I’ll keep you.” He murmurs, the implications and stakes too high for you to not notice, but the matter of pride and the punishment for running away with your tail tucked between your legs are things you are all too familiar with.

“Deal,” It’s the only word you said this entire conversation that isn’t slurred, you note. He simply shakes your trembling hand, and you take the cup, doomed to soon fail as Chrollo intended.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #aya abstractions #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #200 followers event

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mentalbreakdowngobrrrrr · 2 years

Note

I loved the last Hanzo ask and I have kind of a interesting one. Yandere Hanzo (from HxH) but his s/o has a thing where they faint from high stress but he didn't know at first until he kidnapped her. because he never saw her stressed he'd never seen her faint before until he kidnapped her and now she's in a VERY high stress situation so has a lot of fainting spells and he has no clue what's going on. She/they for reader plz!

Also if you don't feel comfortable writing for this I totally get it, no worries!

I'll write what i can lol

Hanzo was so excited to finally have you in his grasp.

Sure you wouldn't be happy, but with time he was sure you would come around.

Imagine his surprise when you woke up for the first time and instead of asking where you were or fighting you passed right back out.

After a few times of you fainting as soon as you woke up Hanzo got pissed.

Were you doing this on purpose?

Eventually you managed to stay up for a bit.

Hanzo immediately started to grill you.

"Why do you keep fainting? You never fainted before."

"Gee, it's almost like I'm stressed from being literally kidnapped, ripped from my home and friends and kept captive in and unfamiliar environment. Why would I not faint from stress?" You scoffed, spitting at the ninja.

"What can I do to help you destress?"

"Set me free-"

"No."

"I don't fucking know. Maybe don't be staring at me when I wake up?"

"Oops."

"Just leave."

"Fine."

(lol felt like that was bad but i did my best. still dont even know if thats the right character for Hanzo lmao)

#hunter x hunter #hxh #yandere #yandere hanzo #hanzo x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hanzo hxh x reader #hanzo hunter x hunter #hanzo hxh #reader insert

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holydayaria · 3 months

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Consolation Prize

Yandere Nobunaga x Reader

Synopsis: Nobunaga takes it upon himself to take in Uvogin's darling after his death.

Warnings: fem reader, kidnapped reader, nobu being weird about his dead best friends gf, only slightly proofread

3.2k words… tagging everyone in the comments

Nobunaga closes the door to Uvo’s place behind him. The place is familiar, and it’s as if Uvogin could come back at any moment. There are a few day-old beer cans on the living room coffee table and one of his large jackets thrown over the sofa, waiting to be worn again. If he was any less jaded, he might have thought Uvogin was still alive.

The house, alas, is empty. It’s an older building on the outskirts of its nearest town. It’s one of many slightly run-down homes that are left (mostly) unoccupied in the area. It’s not derelict by any means, but it's probably seen better days. He isn’t here to judge the foundations of the house though, how there are some cracks in the wall from where the door was slammed with too much force or how there are weak spots in the floor. No, he’s here for you.

You, who's down in the basement, are probably still waiting for Uvogin. You, whom he’s only met a handful of times, spoken to even less. He’s jerked off to you more times than he’d like to admit, something Nobunaga would have never admitted to Uvogin, not when the man was so finicky over you. Nobunaga continues to walk through the home, a chapstick tube catching his eye on the counter. It was placed with some spare change, sunglasses that certainly belonged to Uvo and various keys. He pockets the keys, assuming he might need them later. Holding the chapstick in his hand, he examines it more closely. This was probably yours, based on the ‘Vanilla Apple” flavoring. With almost no shame and a mild sense of entitlement, he applies the chapstick to his lips. It’s like an indirect kiss. He puts that as well in his pocket.

His mind continues to linger on you as he takes his time looking around. He wonders how he’ll break the news to you, he isn’t sure what approach to take. He wonders if you’ll cry, or if you’d even believe him. You two have seldom spoken with each other, Uvo did most of the talking for you on the rare occasions you were present when Nobunaga visited. The longest conversation Nobunaga ever had with you probably didn’t even last ten minutes, and it consisted of him asking questions while you gave very short responses. Uvogin had always been in earshot. As if daring one of you (mostly Nobunaga) to say something out of line. It previously hadn’t been an issue if the two of them went after the same woman, but now all of a sudden Uvo was so uppity about if Nobu even looked at you for too long.

Nobunaga can remember feeling a sense of annoyance at your very existence in the beginning. It ebbed and flowed, but it was always consistent. The more time Uvogin spent with you, the less time Nobunaga got to spend with him. In addition to the fact that Nobu couldn’t make a suggestive joke about you without Uvogin snapping at him, it didn’t make Nobunaga particularly fond of you. He hadn’t even met you yet and already had a soured image of you. It didn’t help that it seemed like everyone else had someone to return home to, meanwhile, all Nobu had been his right hand.

The day Nobunaga did get to meet you, he still didn’t see what it was about you that had Uvogin so worked up. You were cute, sure, but he couldn’t point out anything remarkable, other than that you had particularly nice legs. Maybe whatever it was about you was something only Uvogin saw. You didn’t say anything to him, which he was fine with. You were probably just shy. Uvo joked later that you didn’t like him very much, which couldn’t have been true. Nobu hadn’t made that bad of a first impression, surely. It was only in the coming weeks that his distaste for you would warp into something else. You were cute, and something much more tangible than the women in erotic magazines. A thought crossed his mind that he’d probably be as uptight as Uvo was about you if you were his. Maybe if Uvo wasn’t so strict about who you got to interact with, you’d give Nobunaga a chance.

He idles about for a few minutes, a strange suspense hanging in the air that only he can sense. He wonders if you’re still down there or if you somehow escaped. Maybe you’ve withered away. He wonders if you think about him or even remember him. As he stands in front of the heavy basement door, he supposes it’s time to see what all the fuss over you was about.

If you had to guess, you’d say it’s been about a week since you last saw Uvo.

The basement isn’t so bad. It’s got an old television to keep you entertained. It only works half of the time, but it’s the thought that counts. There are a few blankets and the mattress you sleep on is comfortable. Uvogin left you with some water bottles and food (mostly snacks) to keep you from starving to death, though he usually wasn’t gone for more than two weeks. Even then, you were only resigned to the basement if he was going somewhere far. You never knew where he went, and it all seemed to be pretty last minute when he did go, but he always told you when he’d come back. He should have come back days ago.

Part of you hopes to see him again. All things considered, he wasn’t the worst. If you can look past the obvious (the threats of violence if you ever stepped out of line, which you stopped doing months ago, and the kidnapping and the inability to ever leave), Uvo wasn’t so bad. He went out of his way to make sure you didn’t go hungry. He brought you gifts and anything you asked for. He made you happy.

Maybe being forced to be a violent man's live-in girlfriend for 11 months has taken a toll on your mental health. But you were alive. The few bruises he gave you were long faded. Uvogin was good to you, surely he wouldn’t abandon you in his basement now. Wouldn’t he have given you a heads-up? Had he gotten bored? Have you been too good? Maybe you should have acted out more. You haven’t been able to sleep much. Every noise would wake you up in the dead of night because of how much you wanted to see Uvogin again.

Your head perks up at the sound of the basement door slowly opening. It’s not Uvogin, it can’t be. You would have heard his heavy footsteps, and he would have announced himself somehow. Instead, you’re met with a man who is only faintly familiar to you. He’s tall with a face that’s on the gaunt side, though not outright unhealthy. His clothing doesn’t stand out, with beige pants and a green long sleeve. His most distinct feature is his hair, which is long and slightly greasy from what you can see.

“You’re still here, that’s good.” He says nonchalantly, as if you had anywhere else to go. Nobunaga’s eyes drift to the chains around your ankle. “You must have given him a lot of trouble if he had to chain you up.” He remarks, trying to ease up any tension with what was meant to be a joke. It isn’t working. You stare at him blankly, scanning his face. You’ve seen this guy before, but at the moment, his face isn’t recognizable to you. Nobunaga sighs, looking you over. You look sick, and he isn’t sure if you actually are or if it’s the unflattering lighting of the basement. Once locating the light switch, he flicks it on, and you don’t look much better. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, your lips are cracked, and your complexion is dull and lifeless.

Nobunaga comes closer, crouching down next to the mattress. He takes the chain into his hands, eyeing it over. It isn’t particularly thick or very heavy. It attaches to the wall, and there’s a cuff around your ankle to keep you from going far. He hadn’t found an obvious key in the basement, so he settles for using his strength (and nen) to simply break the metal chain without warning. The way you flinch doesn’t go unnoticed, but at least you’ll be able to walk out of here now. You scoot away from him, sitting up and against the wall rather than laying lethargically on your side.

“Hey, come on, we’ve met before,” Nobunaga says, the discontentment in his voice thinly veiled. He fishes your chapstick out of his pants pocket. “Look, here. This is yours, isn’t it?” After a few seconds of warily staring at him, it finally clicks. It’s your kidnapper's equally strange friend, whose name you barely remembered. You tentatively take the chapstick from him, untwisting the cap, and apply some of the chapstick liberally, and there’s an awful fluttering feeling in Nobunaga’s chest. He wonders if you’d somehow notice that he just used it minutes earlier. He averts his gaze, suddenly remembering the key ring he pocketed away. Again, without warning, he grasps your ankle, holding you in place as he tries out the different keys on the cuff. After some trying, it eventually comes off. There's a slight imprint of the cuff on your skin, but it hasn’t torn or broken your skin.

“You’re Nobunaga.” You croak out, finally remembering his name. He grins, relief audible in his voice. “There you go, I knew you couldn’t have forgotten me.” You don’t smile back. Something must be wrong if Uvo was letting someone else get so close. Nobunaga’s gaze meets yours again, and he waits for you to speak. He’s expecting some sort of thanks for his good deeds. “Where’s Uvogin?” His expression falls slightly. Right, he forgot that you still think Uvogin is going to come home at some point.

“He’s dead.”

There’s a heavy pause after he speaks. Nobunaga stares at you, waiting for you to emote, but you only stare back. He had hoped, expected, that if anyone else were to outwardly share in his grief it would be you. He stifles a frustrated sigh. The other members of the Spider grieved for Uvogin, nobody was thrilled about his death, Nobunaga knows that yet he can’t ignore the feeling that none of them truly understood. He chalks it up to shock, surely you’ll properly react to Uvogin’s death in the coming days. He wastes little time, not wanting to sit around in the dusty basement any longer. Without warning, Nobunaga takes you by the wrist and pulls you up, forcing you to stand on wobbly legs. He’s all too eager to have you lean on him for support as you get used to walking again. The days of being chained to the ground hadn’t done your muscles any good. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Nobunaga’s words replay in your mind, yet they never truly stick. For half of a second, you’re relieved that your kidnapper is dead. Not arrested, dead. On the other hand, you’re now left with an equally dangerous man. What exactly was going to happen to you now? You weren’t clueless about Uvogin’s crimes, far from it. Uvogin boasted about the stealing and killing he did. At first, you thought it was a scare tactic, something to keep you from acting out, but he was truly proud of his proclivity for violence. Would you be killed? Surely the Troupe wouldn’t just let you go, it’d never be that easy. As if Nobunaga could see the cogs turning in your mind, he speaks up again. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you from now on.” His voice takes a softer tone, trying to be reassuring. Each step up and out of the basement only makes the pit in your stomach deeper, to the point where you’re starting to feel sick.

Nobunaga barely picks up on your inner turmoil past what’s written all over your face. In his mind, him coming for you should be a great relief (and in a way, it is. You might have withered away in the basement if nobody bothered to come for you). Aside from the obvious fact that he can't let you go free, he doubts you’d be okay on your own at this point. You’ve been dependent on Uvogin for anything like food or attention for nearly a year. As far as Nobunaga is concerned, you wouldn’t do well if you were thrown back into the real world and forced to take care of yourself. You might as well be a bird that’s had its wings clipped. Besides, it’s not like anyone else in the Troupe was going to take you in. Some of the other members had their own partners to occupy themselves with, Feitan even suggested outright killing you since you probably knew too much about the Troupe. It was only right that Nobunaga got to have you, he was the only one who was willing to anyway.

Besides, Chrollo did say that he could make the final decision about what happens to you.

He gets lost in his own thoughts; so caught up in his fantasies about his soon-to-be domestic life with you, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you dig your heels into the ground once he’s got you out of the basement and back on floor level. Nobunaga looks back at you, the corners of his lips twitching downward. “Come on, it’s fine. I told you that you’re safe with me.” He says, an impatient edge to his voice as he continues his firm hold of your wrist. “Do you want to bring some of your things with you?” Nobunaga says it as if he’s extending an olive branch. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you blink at him. “What?” “We aren’t going to be staying here.” Nobunaga says like it’s obvious. “You’re coming home with me.”

The apartment is quiet, save for the new pitter-patter of rain outside. You stand there idly, watching Nobunaga go through your and Uvogin’s belongings in the bedroom you used to share with Uvo. What right did he have to put his hands on your things? He shouldn’t be here, you think. You hold your tongue, the words not coming easy to you. You don’t attempt to help him or give any input on what clothes you want to take and what you want to leave behind.

“I don’t believe you.” You say abruptly, still standing in the doorway. Nobunaga goes through the closet with his back to you, looking for a backpack or spare luggage. For half of a second, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Are you sure he’s dead?” You ask, which answers the question that was on the tip of his tongue. His expression falters slightly, but he doesn’t turn to meet your gaze. “I’m positive.” Nobunaga says with a strange finality to his tone. He’s found a decent backpack now, more focused on deciding what belongings of yours to bring and which to leave behind. As far as he’s concerned, you two will have all the time in the world to talk about Uvogin once Nobunaga just gets you back to his place. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you wouldn’t be 100% thrilled at the prospect of being transferred over to his care.

You aren’t willing to drop the conversation topic though. You don’t want to believe Uvogin is gone, but there’s no way he’d willingly hand you over to this guy, right? “How? How did he die?” You press for answers, wondering if this is some prank. Nobunaga sighs, still not bothering to turn back to face you. “We can talk about that later.” He says, taking your clothes out of the room’s dresser and putting them in the backpack. “You’re probably hungry. Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat? I’ll finish up here.” He says dismissively, effectively shooing you off. You tentatively leave the bedroom doorway after about a minute of silence, surprised that Nobunaga is so easily letting you out of his sight.

Wandering over to the kitchen, you numbly go about making yourself something to eat. It feels like muscle memory at this point, you’re so used to fixing up a sandwich for Uvogin. Today, though, most of the ingredients you’d usually use aren’t at your disposal. The lunch meat that was in the refrigerator expired last week, and there’s no cheese left. All you’re able to come up with is a sandwich with mayonnaise and some tomato slices. You eat slowly, your appetite diminished from the turn of events and from how bland your sandwich is.

Your eyes shift to the front door, and you can just barely hear Nobunaga back in Uvo’s bedroom. Maybe if you timed it right, you could get out of here. God knew if the front door was locked, but if you didn’t at least try, then you’d never know. You can hear the rain outside more clearly now. You’d be risking getting sick by running out in the rain, but that’s a small price to pay for freedom. What would you even do, though? Where could you go that the Troupe wouldn’t follow? By the time you gather the nerve to take a few steps out of the kitchen, Nobu’s finished packing. “Do you feel better after eating something?” He asks, his voice catching you by surprise. He doesn’t comment on the quality of your sandwich. You choose not to answer him.

The rain picks up, now it’s impossible to treat it as a soothing white noise. It’s loud and you can hear the roaring winds with it. “I guess we can just stay here until the rain dies down.” Nobunaga proposes, and he motions for you to follow him. He sits on one of the two couches in Uvo’s living room, expecting you to sit next to him. You take your seat on the second couch, and Nobunaga’s able to hide his disappointment well enough.He takes the remote and turns the television on, keeping the volume low. The news channel only talks about the current storm, it seems like you’ll both be stuck here for at least a few more hours. You focus on the news reporter, not wanting to look at Nobunaga. You can feel his staring, you know he’s waiting for you to talk to him.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You finally break the silence, and Nobunaga seems just about amused at your inquiry. “I told you, I’m going to be taking care of you from now on.” He says it slowly, as if you didn’t understand him the first time. His answer is too vague for you to do anything with, or maybe it’s the brain fog from not eating much in these past days. Nobunaga continues to look at you as if you were a beloved houseplant while you think over what he’s said. After a long pause, you finally respond. “I want to go home.” Once again, his smile falters and his voice returns to a more neutral one. “That isn’t going to happen. Your best option is to come just with me.”

Nobunaga waits for you to say something, to give any indication that you at least understand your circumstances. You don’t though, rather you choose to pretend that you’re invested in anything the news anchor is saying. He’s confident that you’ll come around, though; it’s not like you have anyone else to rely on.

#yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere nobunaga #yandere nobunaga hazama #yandere Nobunaga x reader #yandere Nobunaga Hazama x reader #_hxh #_nobunaga

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misstycloud · 10 days

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Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #yandere oc #possesive #misstycloud oc #yandere husband #vampire hunter husband #vampire reader #wife reader #vampire wife reader #yandere x reader #toxic #yandere husband x wife reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere imagine #fantasy #yandere human x vampire reader

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after-witch · 2 months

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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.

Word count: 7100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre

The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly.

In surprise.

In trepidation.

In realization.

The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance.

How lucky for him.

How unfortunate for you.

You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?

The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill?

And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear.

He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later.

His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise.

As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you.

The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches.

Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy.

What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate?

All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front.

As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way?

But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once

From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.

And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.

He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him.

Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis.

It’s you that he focuses on, now. And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted.

Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person.

You.

What to make of you?

You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find.

He remembers such a living.

You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats.

It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them.

With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you.

Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.

He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm.

“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you.

You stiffen.

“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.

“None of your business,” you say.

And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.

“That’s all right.” He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”

Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.

“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”

Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.”

He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.

And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.

“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.

He nods his head.

“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach.

“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”

He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels.

You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that.

“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”

Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.

“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”

The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them.

Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it?

You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more.

Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear.

“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.”

“You want to buy me clothes?”

You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips.

He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.

You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant.

“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies.

For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised.

The elevator doors open.

Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter.

“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”

You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?

“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.

That might come in handy.

He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him.

“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.”

You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.

Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.

Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs.

5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets.

Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.

The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining.

He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement.

What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?

Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?

He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You.

What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume.

What would you be like, once you were fully his?

What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden?

The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it.

He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--

Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.

He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.

The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder.

But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits.

He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it.

This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate.

Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping.

Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two.

But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.

Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb.

And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least, you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit.

It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut.

Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer.

At least, not before today.

“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.

Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good. Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.

“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.

“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?”

You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.”

“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.

Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.

Only... none of that happens.

His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.

“I know a lot about that, actually.”

It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you.

It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside.

“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom.

He nods.

“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think.

He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.”

Dear.

The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.

Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself.

Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top.

The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest.

A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.

There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.

And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner?

He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears.

“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.

Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”

“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”

His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.

“You’re familiar with his work?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling.

You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?

“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.

He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm.

His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why?

Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.

The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.

The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you.

Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.

“So you were… homeless, before?”

You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?

“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.

If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.

“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”

“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin.

“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”

“Which was?”

There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.

“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you.

Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.

Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.

“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.

He tilts his head a little. “What for?”

Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.

Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.

“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”

You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology.

He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.

It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.

Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.

A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.

You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do.

The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild.

Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap.

Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it.

Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two…

You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.

There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.

But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.

You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there.

You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras.

The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.

He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.

You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years?

How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.

He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be.

Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this.

There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever.

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo lucilfer #afterwitch writes

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bwabys-scenarios · 5 months

Text

Yandere!JJK/HXH men when you take over domestic duties(NSFW)

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: dubcon, implied Stockholm syndrome, yandere characters, nsfw in Gojo’s, Leorio’s and Geto’s, Illumi is the worst yandere to have, implications of reader being harmed in Illumi’s, reader is chubby

A/N: sorry if some of these are out of character, it’s been forever since I watched JJK and I’ve only seen season one!

characters: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Geto, Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Illumi

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

JJK

Gojo

He’s ecstatic. Although Gojo is perfectly capable of keeping his own home clean and making his own food, he’s more than happy to watch you walk around in a sweater and jeans, tidying up the place and making a meal for the two of you to share. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?”

He can’t help but coo and fawn over you, pulling you away from your work to smother you in kisses and right squeezes. He’s got a bad case of cuteness aggression, and can sometimes forget his own strength. It’s best you let this happen, he’s in a good mood, and you’d rather stay on his good side.

His reward is to stay between your plush thighs, making you cum on his tongue until you’re crying and begging him to stop. Because it’s a reward, he’ll listen this time. Gojo wants this to be good for you after all, since you have finally begun acting like you’re supposed to, like the perfect stay at home girlfriend and not the woman he keeps captive.

Nanami

Although his heart races with joy and love when he notices you’ve started taking over the cooking and cleaning, he still can’t stand to see his darling do all of the tasks around the house, so he used this an excuse to get you to love him bond with you more. He’ll roll up his sleeves after a hard day of work and come up behind you, hands taking away the spatula. “I’ve got this, you go relax.”

He’s determined to spoil you for the upcoming week, bringing home sweets from his favorite bakery to share with you and buying you those books you’ve been asking for. After all, it gets boring being trapped in his home every day. He might as well give you a reward for being such a good girl.

Choso

When he comes home to see you wearing an apron and cooking dinner, he nearly fucking LOSES it. He just stares at you from the doorway, mouth agape. When he took you, you cried and cried begging to go home every day, and now you were humming to a song on the radio as you made dinner for the two of you. “Princess, that smells amazing.”

He follows you around as you work, watching until you swat him away for making you nervous. Choso can’t help but swoon when you offer him a plate of food, face hot with embarrassment.

Geto

He more or less expected you to get the hang of being his little wife eventually, so it’s less of a shock and more of pleasant surprise to see you with your hair pulled back as you dust the bookshelf in his office. “My, my, seems my little wife has gotten busy.”

Although this was expected of you, Geto still goes out to buy you a new apron and cleaning supplies, along with your comfort food to reward you for your good behavior. Maybe you’re finally coming around to the idea that you’re his wife, and will respect him as your husband! He’ll hold you in his lap, letting you cockwarm him as he keeps a hand on your plump hip. “There you go, that’s my sweet little wife. Taking me so well, you’re ready for a creampie aren’t you? You can take it, sit still and pretty and I’ll let you call your family this weekend.”

HXH

Kurapika

He had made the kitchen perfect for use, all the(hard plastic) utensils in your favorite color, and a fridge always full of fresh food. Kurapika hoped you would eventually come around to cooking and cleaning, but he certainly didn’t mind doing the work himself if it meant you would be happy and comfortable. When he saw you preparing a meal for him after seeing he’d been losing weight and skipping meals, he nearly cried from joy.

You were worried for him, you cared about his health! He wasn’t delusional, he knew he took you away from your friends and family and had a love for you that sometimes crossed into obsession, but it was obvious his efforts to make you happy and comfortable had worked. “Angel, I cannot explain how happy this makes me, thank you.”

He spends the rest of the night doting on you, wanting nothing more than to snuggle and hold you to him. Kurapika is just incredibly happy to know despite your tentative behavior towards him, you at least care about his health and well being. That’s the first step towards falling in love, and he’s determined to make sure he follows through each and every step.

Leorio

Honestly, with his busy schedule working at the hospital, he didn’t have much time to cook and clean. Thankfully, you eventually got fed up with eating takeout and living in a messy home, so you took over the cooking and cleaning for your own sanity. When Leorio came home from an especially brutal shift, he nearly cried when he saw the apartment clean and smelled dinner cooking. His little princess was cooking and cleaning, all for him! His guilt from kidnapping you faded away into mushy lovey dovey thoughts as he came up behind you. “Mmm, princess you look like the perfect little house wife right now…”

You can’t help but notice the bulge poking into your ass, his hands wandering around your body. Usually he’s not so touchy, preferring to respect your boundaries in an effort to get you to trust and love him, but it’s hard to resist you when you’re making him a meal and looking oh so cute! He can’t help but squish your chubby tummy and grab at your plush thighs, tugging down your pants to get to your plump pussy!

Chrollo

Honestly, he never expected to come home to a meal being set on the table and the small home they were currently staying in to be spotless. Chrollo eyed the various dishes, raising an eyebrow at you. “You made this?”

You looked up at him, looking a little shy but accomplished. “Yeah… I figured you… would be hungry after your… job.”

Although you sounded sincere, Chrollo wasn’t stupid. He made you try a bite of everything before sitting down to eat. After seeing your look of disappointment when he questioned if it was poisoned, he almost felt bad. This was a genuine attempt at making a meal and trying to live as normal as a life as possible, but he was too jaded to just accept that. “Sorry, dear. I haven’t even thanked you for preparing such a lovely meal. Thank you.”

Illumi

He’s another one that expected you to do all of the domestic duties from the get go. Although there are butlers that take care of most of the work, you as his victim wife was expected to take care of his every need. You were very resistant to this at first, being absolutely terrified of him, but with a little ‘gentle’ pushing in the right direction, you were able to become the perfect, reluctant little house wife.

Although you preformed your duties to your best ability, you had never been genuine or happy to do them. He noticed this in the way your eyes looked empty and humiliated when forced to clean up the blood he tracked into your bedroom.

But tonight was different. You were excitedly cooking away in the kitchen, Illumi almost looking… soft when you smiled at him. Were you finally coming around? It took a lot of hard work, but he had finally molded you into a happy, cute little housewife. “Ah… is this my favorite meal? Thank you, it looks delicious…”

He noticed how your face lit up with his praise, the dark haired assassin taking note to use that to his advantage in the future.

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