#Yandere Hunter X Hunter X Reader

[stickyspeckledlight]

Tidal Cesspool [Yan!Chrollo x GN!Reader]

Chrollo brings up your favorite literary genre in a typical conversation.

WC: 3.6k

Tags: n0nc0n mention (chrollo hasn't done anything yet, but there's...there's just a VERY brief mention), potentially a bit OOC *sweat*, borderline crack at the end

Note: Ngl I think there's an ask which covers this crack scenario. However I can’t find it but this silly lil thought was still plaguing me so here we go. If I’m not hallucinating, then don’t fault me for the “plagiarism…on accident [which I will fix immediately]” (Somerton, 2020). IF anyone knows abt such an ask then pls put it in the reblogs. Anyways this wasn't necessary I just wanted to put in a plagiarism joke before the fic starts lel

Anyway here's chrollo being a pretentious shithead who should just go and die or something (ngl sometimes i can't help but think he's shalnark expect he tries to pretend to be a gentleman lol).

enjoy my yandere comedy piece <3 xoxoxoxoxo

There is something inane to the way you stare up at the ceiling. You're sprawled over the couch like a sea star, waiting for the tide to come take you.

However, the air continues to waft over you. Continues to prick at your skin, tangling your hair and stinging your eyes.

But you're stuck to your rock. You can't move from your tide pool to the nearshore, much less the deepest of depths, even if you wanted to.

It's not because of your own attachment to the rock walls, however. Rather...

"Deep in contemplation again, love?"

A hand keeps you pressed and trapped against it; a hand that currently runs down the leather spine of a book that you think he's been going through for about a week. Probably about this or that; but most likely, a word salad of pretentious philosophy he’ll use to justify his usual fatalism and/or the Troupe’s actions. Taking after his name (which you’re convinced he must’ve chosen for himself), he does play the devil’s advocate well; but you’d say his ability to twist words to suit his own needs is much, much more impressive. And annoying. But begrudgingly, impressive all the same.

You only wish you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Chrollo regards you with a patient smile. Joy doesn’t reach his eyes—even if he was capable of such an emotion, he’s irritatingly good at concealing his emotions—but he can never fully mask the hunger that crinkles his eyes; crinkles, like a wolf’s snout, right before it tears into prey. It's the only reason you believe in his insistence that you're of some interest to him. You don't believe in that interest being 'love,' as he likes to say, but you're wholly assured in being a passing, if not intense, interest. Like being enamored with a new show, movie, or game. For a bit, it'll be all your life is defined by, etched into the sand, but eventually, the tide will come back and wash it away like it was never there in the first place. Only truly precious things can be engraved in rock.

For him, only the Troupe is engraved there. And you'd be a fool to think you would be there, too.

The couch shifts. Chrollo's closer to you, his hand barely a pace away from the edges of your hair. Though it tries to beckon, you only ever feel repulsed by it.

...That said, if you only try to delay the inevitable, the inevitable will become much, much worse. And if he gets in a bad enough mood, he might suction you to his chest come nightfall, rather than his usual trick of the room's temperature coincidentally dropping to where cozying up to his warm body would be nice, so why wouldn't you do so? Well, nice, if you disregard the fact that it's Chrollo's body, and not someone you actually like.

You roll over with a grimace, looking up at him from where you lay. You don't bother to sit with him eye to eye yet, and soon enough, you look straight ahead. All you see are his legs and the rest of the couch.

"And I thought you were deep into that book," you unenthusiastically respond, tracing patterns into the cushions.

“Quite,” he admits, “But few things match your level of salience.”

Salience? Really? “What’s with you and talking like a book? Talk like a person, please.”

“But you understood what I meant,” he breezily counters, “Seeing as you are my only present company, it follows that in this rhetorical situation, I need only ensure that you understand me, love. And in that, I have succeeded.”

You frown, “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Not this again.” You would normally bury your face in your hands, but given your position, you bury it in the couches. Sure, he’s technically not wrong, but goddamnit if it doesn’t annoy you. You thought hearing stuff like that was far behind you, with the completion of your required writing and communication classes all the way back in college…

“You’re admonishing me, yet here you are taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Says the guy whose last name is a letter off from Lucifer. Shouldn’t you be alight with exuberance?” You suppress a sneer at your own mocking mimicry.

“I never claimed any moral superiority before, though. I’m only stating facts, love,” the book is set down on the couch, next to your head. His hand inches closer. It’s a sign for you to get up.

As you rise, he continues.

“If you have complaints about my language, then you should watch your own…that’s all I’m trying to say, love. I'm not contradicting myself.”

You grumble. “I’m only saying you should talk more…casually. More normally. Swearing is a part of that.”

“Ah, but I am speaking to you like that,” Chrollo tips his head, “Casual and normal are both subjective. No two people will have the same definition of them. My and your speech are wholly normal, both from our perspectives.”

“Not from my perspective. You've always been a weirdo.”

He challenges, “Even if I cared about what was ‘normal’ or not,” his fingers entwine with yours, despite everything, “I wouldn't call your situation...normal. Do you think 'normal' applies here?"

Now he's just deliberately pushing your buttons. Raving on from some weird, philosophical ledge, twisting out technicalities to craft arguments the average sociologist would drool over. Maybe you could appreciate it more if you were the academic type, but you were never really interested in that scene. Most of what those types talk about just seem too abstract, too pedantic (pretentious) to be of any use at all. Whenever you'd overheard some of the sociology majors (either kids with no idea about what they wanted to do, or kids with parents too rich to let them fail---though, that's not to discredit the kids with a loose screw or two. You actually like those kids, but those kids also talked normally), you'd end up scoffing to yourself and rolling your eyes. You swear that those kids were doing everything in their power to use as many big, weird nobody-could-find-anywhere-besides-the-annals-of-a-dictionary words as possible to describe something that could be more easily described as "power activate many monkeh brain, so monkeh fight."

It's exhausting, and you want him to stop. At least---at least stop pretending that there's some sort of deep meaning to be twisted from this, and not just what the situation really is: "an obsessive psychopath kidnapped and imprisoned you and is trying to make you obsessive for him too because he has no capacity for real love or care."

"Whatever," you mumble, already drained. It's not a response; your response would've been begrudging agreement, followed by you sulking and him preening (even though he never seems to have to try too hard to win an argument against you; but you think it's just because he likes the overwhelming power and 'superiority' he holds over you).

No, you just want him to shut up. In an ideal world, his mouth is either sewn shut, or its not there at all. Actually, the latter would be truly ideal, because if that were the case, he would've died from dehydration hours after leaving the womb.

But, that's wishful thinking. Even when he has you stuck against sharp rock, he never resists the urge to twist his palm, grinding you impossibly closer to it.

"So you don't care about what's normal or not after all?" Chrollo muses. You bristle as his grip firms up. As you feel sharp rock edge on puncturing your skin. "That's a curious change of heart."

You groan, "Chrollo---" you swear he glows "---it doesn't matter. You can talk like some sort of cult member or something for all I care. Just because I'm annoyed at your weird pretentious hoity toity thing doesn't mean you'll stop it, considering the circumstances." You feel even more heated, and take a deep breath to try and quell it. A bit of shame creeps up your cheeks regardless, though. You're getting worked up for the worst, useless reason. Even if Chrollo egged it on, even if you hate him, even if you're just lonely and want to di---you're getting worked up over so, so, so little. "Just...just chill out or something, man."

(Or is that just his manipulation creeping into your thoughts?)

"But it's indicative all the same," He hums. His smile has dropped, leaving behind the blank expression wholly characteristic of him (the only expression that looks like it belongs). Now, he did little to hide his observation. He prowls out in the open, right below the overhead sun. Perhaps it's a contradiction, given his profession, but you understand it as sheer, almost lackadaisical confidence. "If you're able to drop your conviction so easily, even for something as small as this," his hand raises so he can rest his chin on it, leaning forward in thought. He does not let go of your hand. "Then it stands to reason you could drop the conviction that has you refusing me."

You don't mention Chrollo's many, prior claims that you'd give into him, eventually. There's no need to, because from the look in his eyes, you're both thinking about those exact same claims. A futile pursuit, he called it.

And you know? It's true.

But if you've gone this far with futility, then there's no reason to not indulge in it for as long as you can.

"Just because I get annoyed with your conversational meandering doesn't mean I'll just suddenly get all kissy wissy with you," you snap.

"You're getting caught up on the macroscopic level. Today was just a microscopic display, no?"

Despite yourself, you feel heat returning to your cheeks. To your heart. Your whole body, really.

"As if. There's nothing redeemable about these circumstances."

He'll probably cheekily mention your use of room service, curling into the luxurious bedsheets---things like that. Expected things. Actually, things that have already happened, because he really likes mentioning that. It serves its purpose of pissing you off.

He doesn't say any of that, though.

"Are you sure?" he raises an eyebrow, "I was sure you’d enjoy this kind of situation."

Anger spikes in your heart. You realize in the back of your mind its bait, that he's trying to draw out this exact reaction, but emotion already courses through you. Maybe it's because you're so shocked that he didn't go the route you were expecting---or, or---

"Me? Enjoy?" You bitterly laugh, because what else can you do in front of such sheer audacity? "Wh-what," you sardonically chortle, "The kidnapping? Losing my friends, my family---my life?!" And oh, oh no, tears bead at the edges of your eyes--- "How you---how you force me to be with you, to---to kiss you---" the words are hissed, "just so you don't massacre the people I actually care about?! And---and even then," you swallow a lump, unpleasant scenes of sufferance and cruelty unwillingly passing through your mind, "You'll just kill other people anyway?! Steal, plunder, kill, massacre---" your mouth runs with words now; your mind feels too white, too raging hot to string together coherent sentences---

And Chrollo wears that patient fucking smile.

“Love,” he blinks languidly, fluttering his eyelashes, “Are you sure you aren’t lying to yourself?”

"Why would I be lying?!" You snap. Your hand now has a vice grip on Chrollo's, which he simply responds to by drawing circles on it with his thumb. It only incenses you more. "What, annoyed that I can't be your happy little doll of your fucking fantasies and, and---"

For the first time, a chuckle rumbles in his chest. Somehow, it makes you freeze. It sends a shudder up your spine, and though you still shake with unreleased anger, it's forcibly tempered. It shouldn't be. Chrollo laughs during your conversations often. Before everything went to hell, he'd laugh with and for you. After everything went to hell, he laughs at you. Nothing boastful, of course; Chrollo's a reserved man to the greatest extreme. But it's always small. A slight rumble through his chest, a huff accompanied by a smile, and a chuckle in his throat. They're much different than the laughs with or for you---sometimes they were chuckles with a smile ear-to-ear, or even boyish giggles---but they ARE the closest thing to 'genuine' you think you'll ever be able to get with him. You hate them, but you've developed some defense mechanisms against them. They don't happen often, but when they do, you tend to be able to largely ignore them.

But what's so different about this laugh? You don't know, but something about it feels meticulous and planned. It feels---

It reminds you of the day he took you. It reminds you of all the times you've unwittingly sprung a trap.

Now that you think about it, Chrollo's smiled more in this conversation then he has in entire weeks.

"You used to ask me what kinds of books I read," Chrollo calmly starts, lifting his head to raise his book up. You did, but ever since that fateful day a few weeks ago, you haven't bothered.

"And?" You spit.

"Aren't you still curious?" There's a twinkle in his eye. It tells you that there's no choice but to be curious.

You don't want to take it. You're not going to give him the clean segway he surely wants. If not, prefers.

"No," you sneer, "I've got no interest in what a murderer likes to read. Like I said, if you want some nice little doll, go somewhere else."

"If I wanted a doll, I'd have killed and displayed you somewhere," he flippantly replies. You don't think he's serious (you think maybe it's a joke, as cruel as it is), but you can't tell at all. "What I want is you."

"Oh, so then, the 'me' you want is one locked up and currently miserable?"

"You catch on quickly," he teases. He chuckles at the glower you give him.

You think you're bleeding from the sharp rock.

"Since we both understand this, then you should know I love nothing more than some conversation, darling," Chrollo sweetly says. Sweetly, as in a weird, perverted approximation of it. You would've fallen for it before, but you don't anymore. Can't, anymore. "You haven't engaged with my interests for a good while. It worries me about the state of our relationship. Don't you think so?"

He delivers the words lightly, like a soft spring breeze, but the subtle threat doesn't go unnoticed. You feel like you're being plunged into sharp rock directly, now. Like you're being placed on a series of pikes.

"Ok, ok, ok," you breathe---you still want to scream, but maybe Chrollo's patience has started to wear, and maybe if you don't play along with his stupid little game, maybe he'll do something to you you'll really, really hate. Even more than being spooned by him in your sleep. "What are you reading? ...Chrollo."

Chrollo regards the tome in his hands almost tenderly. Almost dearly. Like a treasure. A priceless one, even, and not just something to admire before pawning to the highest bidder.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" He offers it toward your bloody, pinned hands.

You gingerly accept it, and when you do, he finally lets go of your hand. The tide still hasn't come for you.

You start to read. But you quickly notice...perplexing things. The language seems too...too normal, too casual. Not the sort of thing you'd expect to be printed in this sort of fancy leather bound book. It's not bad, of course. The prose is solid, the imagery magical, and the dialogue vivid; but it's just so...understandable. And familiar, but you can't quite place your finger on it.

Then you come across a name, and you swear you've just lost a good 10 years of your life.

“What…” a cold sweat forms on your back. Should you laugh? Should you cry? Should you rage? What are you supposed to do but ask? What CAN you do but ask? When this whole conversation---when you've been put on edge over this fuc---

“Shal has a way of tracking down info even I can't match,” he explains, running his hand over the paper, “Before his help, I never would’ve thought…” his eyes lock onto yours with a devious grin, “You had this…interest. It was a pleasant surprise."

You want to scream. You'd love nothing more than to take his head and slam it into the ground over and over---you'd love nothing more than to scream into the couch and flail your arms and legs with revulsion---you'd love nothing more than to laugh until you're blue and choking.

"H-how," you choke, "The book. And just. This. How'd you---how'd?"

"I went to a bookbinder," he explains. "I'm quite happy with the results."

Your eyes are wide. "...How long? How long did you know?"

"Long enough."

You're too mortified to be properly offended by the non-answer.

The bastard went to a bookbinder so he could physically behold the copious amounts of yandere fanfiction you consumed.

You look over at him helplessly.

"It's a fairly niche genre," he explains, like you aren't currently going through the five stages of grief, "But above all, fascinating."

Someone should just kill you.

"You've been so resistant to loving me because I stole you away. Yet, for years, you've taken escapism in these narratives of the unwilling 'darling' and doting lover."

Doting lover? That's what Chrollo is using to describe the person who imprisons? Who quashes any semblance of individuality out of a person whose only crime was being loved by the wrong person?

The leans in. "Rather than being my fantasy, don't you think you're the one living out a fantasy? I certainly never fantasized about this; of being at the mercy of someone powerful who chooses you to covet." His eyes rake over behind you, where the spoils of his recent heist lay, "Well, I never fantasize for long. I take before I drown in escapism, as you so gladly chose to."

"N-no," you weakly defend.

"No?" He hums, "But there's everything. You, unsuspecting of a charming man, who eventually betrays your trust to whisk you away. And yes, you fight. But...you aren't truly threatened. You are surrounded by all manner of luxury---even if you say you don't like it. Deep down, you're happy you're away from the life that's been giving you all manner of grievances."

"Don't tell me you can't differentiate fiction from reality," you stammer. "Why the fuck do you think just because I read about it meant I actually wanted it?"

"I didn't," he admits, "How long do you think I've had this book anyway?"

...A week or so, you think. After he took you. But he could've read a ton beforehand and only had his favorites binded. You just glare up at him in lieu of an answer.

"It doesn't matter," you raise your hands and let them fall unceremoniously, "The fact that you've read all of this makes everything worse. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised given the whole murdering thief thing, but I'll never not be surprised at just how depraved a man you really are."

"Depraved?" He smirks. That's not a good sign. "Darling," he pointedly says, "I'm not sure how much more depraved I can be than someone who gets raped vicariously through transformative fiction."

Humiliation punches you in the gut.

You choke. "If---if you---" you feel heat rise to your eyes, "You don't let me even have silly little secrets," you helplessly breathe, unable to say anything but the first thing that came to your mind when you read that damning name, "You can't let me have anything of my own."

"Not necessarily. You possess a portion of my heart." A lesser half than the one belonging to the Spider, you'd bet.

"And I'd be happy to relinquish it."

"It really does put a lot of things in perspective," Chrollo ignores you, attention turning back to the accursed book you have half a mind to tear, "How, sometimes," his eyes become lidded, "There's a small part of you that wants to give into me."

"Bullshit," you spit, reflexive more than anything, "A bunch of stupid fanfiction doesn't tell you shit about me."

"Clothes maketh the man, as they say. I imagine a similar principle applies to fiction."

"Have you even heard of---" you bite your lip, "Well, sometimes really good people read stuff that isn't deemed good or vice versa. I hear there was an artist who painted lots of cottages, but was a horrid drunk in real life. My favored sorts of stories doesn't inform my desires, and with you, I desire to skedaddle and never see your face ever again."

"Your most common tag is Stockholm Syndrome." He hums. "Say what you will; about the barrier between fiction and reality, but it tells me that, at least, a small part of you is...receptive."

You groan. "You do realize you sound like some weirdo pearl clutcher with that line of logic, right?"

"I'm not speaking in absolutes, love," he preens, "Merely that it's not remiss to consider you have some semblance of an agreeable predisposition to all of this."

"You---you're just," you want to scream, you want to tear out your eyes and ears and--- "fucking delusional and I---"

You don't realize you're heaving until a hand is placed on your shoulder. The ice it sends down your spine is enough to freeze over the fire of rage, embarrassment, and humiliation fueling you.

"Often, when people read," he begins, "They envision themselves as the perspective character while they do so. They try to feel what they do, and think as they do. Given the genre's heavy use of the second-person perspective, it's safe to say you were able to do that with ease."

"So, if that's the case..." he doesn't smile, not anymore, because there's just no need,

"Why don't you start eroding that barrier, now that the real thing is in front of you?"

It's going to be a long time before the tide comes back, you think. Until it does, you've nowhere but this cesspool.

ㅤㅤ Works Cited

Hbomberguy. “Plagiarism and You(Tube).”

Youtube, 2 Dec. 2023, youtu.be/yDp3cB5fHXQ?si=KsUuykgb8Xswn_he. Accessed 26 Mar. 2025.

Somerton, James. “James Somerton Stream .”

Youtube, 11 Dec. 2022, cant.be/botheredto?si=findlinkonwaybackmachine.. (qtd. in. Hbomberguy, Plagiarism and You(Tube)) .

plagarism joke after the fic 🔥

(it'll be off on mobile i think RIP)

[asce-of-hearts]

I would like to ask for a Chrollo one with noncon maybe?

🍓 I’ll be the monster you want me to be, isn’t that what you want?

And

🥡 Keep going, love. I don’t care if you feel sick.

I love reading your work! Keep going!

Fly

Contents: Yandere!Chrollo smut with prompts: 🍓🥡 (gn!reader)

more Chrollo content here

TAG LIST

A/N: Listen to this while reading bc it's what I was listening to while writing

WARNINGS: YANDERE, NON-CON/DUB-CON, SHIBARI.

"You're pretty good at this, I don't get why you were so scared." He says with a smile, his hands guiding your hips up and down, bouncing you over his lap with ease. The wet sounds of your slick against his skin, slapping slapping slapping, echo around the room in a maddening cacophony that makes your head spin. Your eyes filled with tears, your arms, bound behind you by a pretty rope in an intricate pattern intended to imitate a spider web in shape, render you helpless to fight him or escape him, in other words: you're nothing but a miserable fly trapped in a web.

You're being devoured, the skin of your chest reddened with bite marks and hickeys, ignoring the health concerns that sparks as they turn a deep shade of purpleish red. You feel disgusting, your hips following the incessant rhythm he's demanding from your behalf, you can't stop, he doesn't want you to stop. You keep sniffling, movements faltering ever so slightly. One of his hands reaches to wipe your tears away, his smile understanding, as if he knows what you're feeling in this instant. Liar, hypocrite, monster, demon.

"Why are you crying, dearest? You pushed for this, didn't you?" He asks, tenderly, crooning. You feel yourself tensing in rage, he grins as your insides tighten around his cock, never breaking eye contact with your vulnerable form. "You wanted this so badly, my dear. You wanted me to do this. You wanted a bad man, I’ll be the monster you want me to be, isn’t that what you want?"

"I hate you," you sniffle, you cry. Your movements become more erratic, faster, better for him to have you bouncing your ass over his cock faster and harder, you're proving him right. He chuckles, biting his lip. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so much. I hate you, and I hate this house, and I hate the things you make me do." You stop your movements, sobbing audibly this time, a pretty pout on your lips. How adorable, unfortunately, he has stopped caring about what you hate a long time ago. He smacks your ass with force, and he flips positions. Now you're pinned under him, arms behind your back, face forced into the mattress, his cock slipping inside your entrance as you're in the degrading position of all fours, like an animal. His voice is cold and detached as he guides your movements once again.

"Keep going, love. I don’t care if you feel sick."

hope you enjoyed this!!!

have a great day/night

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Illumi Zoldyck Headcannon Pt. I

Illumi is the type to be so unfamiliar with a simple crush he thinks he’s bewitched when he keeps thinking of you

So when he diverts from his trip home after a successful job it's completely logical

He’s just trying to release himself from this hex

He might even recruit Hisoka 

he’s so sure of it

Whether you’re hanging around Killua and Gon or just hanging out in a city where he was working he makes his way to you

With tons of plans up his sleeves, he goes in

Only to freeze on the spot when you look him in his eyes

“Uhm can I help you?”

“....”

Hisoka’s intervention is the only thing that will save him

Physically shaking the man’s gaze is the only way he starts functioning again

Hisoka will have a good laugh 

But his family wouldn’t 

Whether it's a worldwide disaster that brings the heads of the Zoldyck family together and you're a fighter

or just investigating on their own they’ll bear witness to it

The way you arrive on the scene and Illumi.exe just stops workin

Of course, you don’t notice that the assassin is just wigging out because you’re (inadvertently) talking to him

When they do realize you’re not putting him under some spell 

And he’s just weird

They encourage him to just have you take you if necessary

Whether that’s abducting civilian-you or trying to defeat you on a wager to marry him

All that advice goes out the window because he can’t even talk to you

He doesn’t know the embarrassment 

He doesn’t know butterflies in the stomach

Not until you

You suddenly become this onus that baffles him in every which way

Whether you’re strong enough and aware enough to confront him

Or have little to no use of nen and have no idea who he is

He won’t be able to do anything until he’s able to handle you

But why would he ever 

He loves you 

Even if you’re making him seem like some incompetent lobotomite

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Chrollo Kissing Thought

A/n: Proof read enough to get sick of 3 paragraphs, grammatical errors(?) tbh just sentence structure dw, and teeth. A paragraph about teeth. Thank u and good night.

Chrollo is waiting for the right moment to kiss you. He wants it to be magical, other worldly, just as enchanting as he fantasizes it to be; the plush flesh of your lips and tease of your tongue already invading his mind. Are you the type to be shy and only caress your tongue against his time and time again, or are you bold and willing to give every fiber of yourself to him? Swirling, interlocking, and roping around each other sloppily-- it's the thing of every man's dream.

He wants to feel the structure of your teeth through your warm lips, the outward curve of your lower face clashing against his. Would it be weird if he let his tongue slip across your teeth and to your gums? Occasionally, of course. Chrollo finds the idea of feeling the texture and shape of each individual tooth slotted in the wet, firm insides of your jaw alluring. He longs to study your body, to worship it like it was meant to be. Treasure and read it over repeatedly like the many books he's stowed away in his personal collection of stolen items.

But how to do that without you trying to scratch his face off like an ungrateful house cat? Seems like only time will tell. For now, he'll just stick to kissing your cheeks while you're dead asleep, or ghosting his lips over your shoulders if your guard is down on a good day. Chrollo wants you to at least tolerate him-- which also already seems light years away-- but woe is him for trying to give you a semblance of his affection for you. He's already got you in his unyielding hold, now he just has to play the long game. And it's not like he's worried about rushing things. You two are going to stay together for a very long time, so you'll give in sooner or later. He knows you, and you'll have to.

[magi-the-writer]

| How would they react catching you in the act of wearing their clothes? |

: HUNTER X HUNTER EDITION :

: PART ONE :

: KURAPIKA :

I'd defiantly think that Kurapika would feel a mix of emotions as he'd gawk. Not in a perverted kind of way like some yandere's, but he'd certainly stare.

Mostly from shock.

Committing the sight of you to memory, The Kurta would be a little surprise, fuzzy inside and... well sadden at the sight.

If you meekly apologies and try to swiftly remove the freshly clean linin. Kurapika will stop you; not physically, but gently using his words as he holds his hand up from the door.

"(YN)... it's okay, you don't have to take it off... you honestly look lovely in it.... I-It fits you well..."

Kurapika won't be flustered like a few here, but his heart won't swell up with adoration, at least at first...

I like to think Kurapika would feel somewhat somber at the sight. Even if just for a moment after the shock has died down.

Just seeing you adorn in his clans garments makes him feel sort of forlorn, mostly because it reminds him of what was robbed from him.

His family and that they'll never get to see the woman he's fallen deeply in love with...

But after that initial feeling, Kurapika will feel warm and fuzzy. Knowing that they may not live to see this wonderful sight, but your future children will get to see this sight everyday.

And what's more? They will also be dressed in the traditional garb!

Slowly, the Kurta strolled into the room. Leaving the door ajar in his astonishment, Kurapika approached.

His grey eyes flickering up and down (YN)'s form. Taking in the way his old tabard sat loosely upon the (HC)-ett's shoulders.

He gently took the woman's soft hands into his.

Thumb caressing her knuckles softly with his barely calloused ones. His thin lips were pulled into a melancholy smile before it melted. Blooming into an adoring grin, he brought (YN)'s hand to his cheek. Leaning into her touch; it was so warm, comforting as it always felt like home.

His once grey eyes had ignited, burning that cursed sea of crimson that caused much misery. He was too busy drowning within his own thoughts of what the future will hold.

Unaware of how (YN)'s dimmed (EC) eyes stared longingly out to the parted door. Wishing nothing more than to flee the wounded male, but never holding the courage to shatter his already fractured heart.

: MACHI KOMACINE :

Machi wouldn't really react much, at least I believe she wouldn't.

Like, she wouldn't gasp or freeze up. Nor is she one to pounce on you the moment you realise that she is there. At most, Machi would flutter her lashes at the sight of you.

A little stunned at this unexpected event that was unfolding before her. However, Machi is not one of the few that would be all flustered or filled with adoration.

If anything, I believe she'd just watch for a moment. Observing as you struggle to tie the Obi around yourself. Clearly trying to copy the execution she'd do when getting ready.

And after that, Machi probably would call out to you with a mute tone.

"Just what are you doing?"

"I told you not to go through my things."

But in my personal visage of Machi, I'd say she'd feel a little annoyed that you went through her clothes.

Partly because you made a mess in your wake.

But because she doesn't like sharing her things.

Even if it's with someone she regards as her partner, Machi still feels as if it's not just a violation of her privacy. But also because she worries about her belongings being taken.

Or you finding the spare key's to the locks that keeps the front door sealed.

Even if it's a ridiculous notion to worry about. It still stresses her out.

But, after you apologies, Machi will feel kind of bad for telling you off. Especially if you look at her with your watery (EC) eyes. And how you'd clutch her obi tightly within your hands. Cradling the fabric close to your chest.

Unknitting her brows, Machi forced herself to relax.

You didn't mean any offence, if anything this is a sign that you're starting to get use to her. Her presence and excepting her--her as your lover, her as you're girlfriend...

But still, it's a little irritating that you went through her stuff without permission.

With a sigh, Machi approached. Snatching the Obi from your hands, the thief froze at how you flinch.

Peering up at your eyes, her breath hitched at how your pretty (EC) hues bubbled, water lining the edge of your lashes.

She looked off to the side, clicking her tongue in frustration. A small pout formed on her slim mouth.

Planting her dainty hands upon your arms, she twirled you around as she swiftly slipped the Obi around your waist.

"Stay still, I'll fasten the Obi."

: SHALLNARK :

Oh boy, this deadly, golden retriever serial killer is exactly like a puppy.

Any sight of you has his imaginary tail wagging with a purpose to fly.

Floppy ears perking up and dribbling drool in excitement. Panting at the enthralling sight of you.

I like to believe that this isn't the first time Shallnark has seen you in his clothes. And to put it bluntly, it will not be the last.

Though, to make it a point. Shallnark has never seen you do it in person.

This yandere is well aware that you go through his things all the time.

The clothes he's left coincidently left at your place.

I like to think Shallnark see's this as some sort of game. That leaves him as the winner.

He finds it adorable that you pick up his clothes. Looking them over; already use to this man's 'forgetful' nature.

He gets really, really excided when you slip on his sleeveless vests and sniffing his used jumpers. Trying on his clothes when you think you're alone.

'She's sleeping in my pants--ah, she looks so cute all curled up... I can't wait to get it back...'

He will never tell you that he knows about your habit. He doesn't want to spoil this little game... just yet.

And when he get's home, he's pretty much all over you. Trapping you into a hug that can last for an hour or more. And if you ask why, Shallnark will just use the classic excuse he always spills.

The cutesy chime of his phone sounded out loud in the quiet of the abandoned mansion.

The three that were sat around Shallnark paused. All eyes on the blond as the noise had caught Shallnark by surprise.

'Home already?' The blond mused, but none-the-less, the green-eyed adult settled his cards to the floor.

Abandoning them as he flicked his gaze. Landing onto the closest person that wasn't playing.

"Hey, can you take over--I have to take this." Standing up, he quickly pulled out his phone from his pocket.

Not really waiting for their reply as one of the players groaned. Verbalising their completes--but Shallnark wasn't listening.

All of them were well aware what that annoying tone meant.

The devil shaped device vibrated as Shallnark's gaze was glued to the screen. He retreated to somewhere privet, away from the others as his hands slightly trembled.

With a pounding heart and a fluttering warmth in his chest that left him feeling giddy.

A love-sick grin settled onto his face--pulling into an uncomfortable degree, the shine within his eyes would be disturbing to the average person.

He watched as you yet again discovered his unkept jacket that was thrown halfway on your bed.

He could really guess what you're thinking, and it only sent him higher to the moon as he watch--eating up your movements as you brought it to your nose.

He caressed the edge of the screen adoringly.

: PAKUNODA :

She'll melt if she saw you wearing something, anything of hers.

All flushed in the face, butterflies in her tummy and a desire to coddle you.

And I mean it, she'll become putty if you are wearing her shoes, rolling up her stocking over your knee, pulling her top down your head, flashing off her pants in the mirror, twirling in her skirt, smoothing out her dress or pressing your lips together after applying her lipstick.

It's as simple as that.

She'll be positively glowing at the sight.

Her stoic face would morph into a loving smile and her cheeks will be dusted in a light pink. Her attention fully on you.

Pokunoda will be on cloud nine at the magnificent sight.

Even if you freeze up, covering yourself and trying to come up with excuses. Quickly trying to stuff the clothes back into the draws as neatly as you could.

She wouldn't care that you went through her stuff like Machi, or the few others.

She always carries around the little receiver that tracts your location.

This is all but a sign--a positive one that you are finally staring to get comfortable. Relaxed if you're taking out her things when she's not around.

"You look so beautiful."

She'll softly say; and she fucking means it.

Compliments will be flowing off her tongue; it'll be an endless onslaught with no seeming end.

Pokunoda is just a bottomless pit of adoration, love and devotion.

"Baby," Pokunoda called in a breathless, sultry voice. Her painted lips curled into an adoring smile. Her eyes were hooded as her caramel brown hues rolled.

Tracing over (YN)'s form, taking in how the clothes (YN) had slung on themselves sat upon her lover.

She approached, her bare feet tapped silently against the creaky wooden floors. Her slim fingers dragging along (YN)'s smooth skin.

Feeling the goose-bumps that littered their (ST) flesh. Pokunoda stalked behind the (EC) eyed beauty.

Her lanky arms coiled around (YN)'s waist. Pulling them flush against her heavy chest that pressed against their back.

The dangerous woman (YN) had come to live with laid her chin upon (YN)'s (HC) hair.

"You're so gorgeous..." Pokunoda spoke, her words filled with love. Her brown eyes peering to the glass, gaze locked upon the relection of (YN)'s eyes.

She pressed her weight onto (YN). Leaning onto them as she sighed.

"Absolutely perfect."

: CHROLLO LUCILFER :

Ah... Chrollo is a bit difficult for me seeing as he can pretty much go anyway.

But in my humble opiuon, Chrollo seems like the type to pause and watch quietly from the side.

I don't think he'd just walk in, approach you and start whispering sweet nothings into your ear like Pokunoda.

Nor will he just kind of stand there, unsure of what to make of this and what to do like the few others.

Rather, I think Chrollo would lean against the doorframe, or at the most walk inside the room, but sit on the edge of the bed. Or press his back onto a wall in plain sight.

Really, I like to think Chollo will wait until you turn around and find him. Or flick your eyes to the background reflected on the mirror and spot him there.

Though, how he'd feel towards catching you... Personally, I believe he'd find it humorous and also endearing and a bit arousing.

Especially if you're messing around in his coat.

By that, I mean that you're impersonating him, or just playing with it.

Chrollo isn't the type to be annoyed like a few would be, or angry that you went through his things like Machi is.

Nor is he worried like most of these yandere's that you'd somehow find the keys, or escape from him... because there is no place in this world you could go without him finding you.

Truly, I like to think Chrollo really enjoys seeing this side of you.

Seeing you enjoy yourself by poking harmless fun at him.

Chrollo especially gets a twisted sense of arousal, catching you in something he wears when committing various atrocities that violates the law.

'God, the things I will do to you... just wait my dear; you will be begging for me soon.'

It has his blood rushing down low and stirring what could be concised 'the beast' within him. And it truly doesn't help that Chrollo is sexual frustrated as you won't let him touch you...

This sight--just geneually seeing you like this, It get's his head all clouded as he is swimming while his throat goes all taught.

Sinking into the chair that was directly behind (YN). Chrollo rested his elbows onto his knees, slouching in the chair as his grey eyes stared dead ahead.

Locked upon his darlings swaying figure; observing every movement they made from the spot they stood before the mirror.

From swaying on one foot to another, opening their arms and flapping them. Bellowing laughter at how the sleeves flopped.

'God, your laughter is so enchanting...' Chrollo sighed, he could listen to it all day. Maybe he could capture it in a record and play it on repeat?

His carnal gaze ate up the curves and dips that his coat hid. Only to be reveiled everytime (YN) wrapped the thing tightly around themself.

Chrollo couldn't help but gulp at how his coat slipped from their shoulders. Laying trapped by their bent elbows.

The way (YN)'s voice turned slightly pompous as they brought their cheap imitation of himself.

An amused smile twinged upon Chrollo's lips as suddenly, (YN) froze up. Like an inset under the intense gaze of a preditor. Their voice fell silent.

"Hm? My darling, what's wrong? Don't let me stop you; continue what you were doing... Just pretend I am not even here."

: NOBUNAGA HAZAMA :

Nobunaga is a bit of a weird dude to write, seeing as the consciences for his character on tumblr is a delusional, infantising yandere.

However, I'll give him a shot.

Personally, I like to believe that after Nobunaga has opened the front door and discovered you lounging on the couch. Wearing only his grey, long sleeved tee.

Both of you staring at one another as a beat of silence rung within the room.

Without a doubt in my mind, Nobunaga's head would be empty--he couldn't think as the thief would just continue to stare.

But, once the surprise had simmered away and he's finally realised that he's caught you.

I like to think that Nobunaga will most likely feeling a mix of paranoia, adoration and irritation.

Truly, I believe Nobunaga is one of the yandere's that'll pretty much over thinks everything you do.

He can't help it, he is constantly pluaged with intrusive thoughts day in and out. From you trying to leave, to others trying to take you away, to you trying to trick him in order to escape.

"What are you doing, why are you in my shirt?"

Nobunaga will have a thousand questions lined up for you from the jump.

Pretty much interrogating you without trying to seem like he is.

Locking the door behind him and coming over. Sitting insufferably close on the couch. Framing his barrage of questions as usual, every day questions about a partners time alone.

Even when you explain as calmly as you could. Answering all his quarries diligently, and assuring him that it's not some ploy.

It's still not enough.

Though, Nobunaga can't help but eat up the way you wear his shirt and only his shirt.

It pretty much has Nobunaga feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. But also hot and bothered.

It's hard for Nobunaga to contain it--these raging feelings that bash heads constantly. The thief desired nothing more than to suffocate you in his love, fighting the urge to drown you in hugs and kisses, to burn his touch on your skin and take in your smell.

But, that little voice in his head always whispers.

What if you tried to use that against him?

So, Nobunaga refrains. he dosn't want to scare you with his overwhelming desires.

And that irritates him beyond belief.

The fact that he can't just admire you in his shirt. Accept the fact that you are just wearing something of his just because. However, he can't. His mind ruins everything.

"For the last time, I was just asking some questions." Nobugana stated, his arm was propped across the bathroom door as his forehead was pressed into his arm.

"Now I can't ask you snything?" His long fingers clutched onto the door handle tightly. Struggling to keep his impulses at bay.

"Just... stop being so--so... (YN), come out so we can talk about this." Nobunaga continued to speak, pausing for a second, only to change the words he was going to say swiftly. Knowing that what he was about to utter would have made this a hole lot harder.

Nobunaga wanted to tame the flame, not stroke it.

But, the thief was met with a sputter of irrupted sounds from behind the bathroom door before it became silent once again.

'Just that the hell is she doing in there?' gulping, Nobunaga's jaw tightened. Clenching tightly as he took a breath in.

'Is she trying to leave; no, the window is too small... shit--what if she can squeeze herself through it though?' His breath stuttered at the thought.

"Come on, open the door." Rattling the nob, he didn't dare turn it. The was no lock to keep him out. Though, it really wouldn't himder him if there was one.

Nobunaga continued.

"Is it because I kept asking why you're in my shirt? I didn't mean to upset you." Nobunaga's voice was forcefully smooth out. Trying to sound calm and collected. Even though his mind raced with paranoid ramblings.

"I just wanted to know why you decided to put on one of my shirts. Come on (YN), please let me in."

[undermine-the-instinct]

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.

[witheredgardenparty]

Ripple on a Still Lake

Read on AO3 (AO3 Account)

(This might look familiar. Author moved blogs.)

Chrollo x g/n Reader

It howls, and howls, and howls and you close your eyes. (or, the one where you wake up.)

Warnings: yandere dynamics, kinda soft yandere, implied forced relationship, not exactly kidnapping but not exactly free either, too much information about rabbits, the rabbits are unfortunately hetero but don't let that ruin the metaphor, Chrollo being a salty theist

Word Count: 1.6k

Down where the trees hum in the summer heat and the wind smells of cedar pine and apple blossoms, there is a place. Deep in the brush, past the brambles and weeds, hides a field of clover and bluegrass. After the sun has set, and the people have all gone to sleep, the rabbits come out to dance.

The moon beams down from o'erhead. The lightning bugs twinkle in the thicket. Hopeful bucks invite their partners to the floor, pursuing them from across the meadow. It is an intricate courtship of chasing and hopping (and possibly boxing). Should the doe find her companion suitable, the two entwine in a tango de l'amour. The pair retreat back into the undergrowth to continue their coupling in full.

From where you tuck away behind the safety of a large black walnut tree, you watch their clandestine frolicking. It was not what you were looking for, when you chose to sneak out that night, but it is soothing and majestic nevertheless. (A tiny, selfish part of you wants to believe that you were meant to witness.)

Were it not for the white noise buzzing in the back of your skull that tenses your muscles and raises your hair, you would have failed to notice his arrival. The sound of feet crunching over fallen leaves and walnut husks can only be intentional. It is with a sort of respect, to the ongoing dalliances, that keeps his movements slow and his voice low.

"I'll give you until the count of ten to explain."

...please read the rest on AO3. (Requires an Account)

The rabbit thing is true.

[robinismywifesworld]

Ms. Manager

Saja boys x Fem! Reader

Summary: The Saja boys can't help but be enamored by their dumb and pretty manager.

Warning: Possessive! Saja boys, tw.death (not reader or any of the saja boys), dumb! reader, oblivious! reader, crybaby? Reader, a bit suggestive I guess?, might be incorrect grammar and spellings, probably more.

Author's note: Bear in mind that this is my first post here on tumblr, pretty new to this because I usually post my stories on Wattpad. I could write how they met or another part of this but I need some ideas, only if you end up liking this one though. I practically wrote this on a whim. I did not proofread this lol

No Dating Rule!

[Last name] [Your name], a name most popular uttered by many people, a name who could turn many heads at the direction with just at a simple mutter, a name that could break a cold person's exterior, and lastly, a name that could easily steal the hearts of the upcoming Korean boy group the Saja boys.

The Saja boys were currently at their own dance rehearsals because they can't exactly steal fans if they don't look great, sing great and dance great, would they?

Jinu lets out an exasperated sigh as he stared at the group of demons, glaring daggers at the other four demons who just can't get the dance right. "We're meant to jump in sinc at this part." He said, crossing his arms as Baby Saja rolls his eyes from behind Abby, thinking their leader wouldn't be able to see. "Why you!-" the dark haired male was about to stomp over when the door opened.

The five males immediately straightened their postures at the sight of her.

[Your name].

Their very own manager.

Standing there with a bright smile plastered on your pretty face as you held the lyrics of their song Soda pop in hand given to you by Jinu.

"Ms. Manager, good to see you." Abby gives out a little wave, shirt riding up to show a bit of his skin and toned body. "You're late. Again."

It wasn't a secret to the five of them that you were admittedly... not that great of a manager, even though they don't have much experience of how a manager actually acts but they just don't want to get rid of you. Not when you looked at them so prettily that they can't help but want more of you, definitely not when you smelled so sweet that they just want to get closer to you just to smell you, and definitely not when you touch them as if they were made of glass (and they weren't, but to them, you clearly are).

Before they met you, you were in need of a job and well... you had a very unforgettable first meeting with them that they just have to keep you to themselves.

"I'm sorry, the landlord upped the expense of the rent." You said, giving them an apologetic look as you handed them each a plastic bottle of cold water. "And he wouldn't exactly leave me alone..." You added, unbeknown of the eyes glowing yellow at the mention of the bastard who wouldn't leave you alone when you turned around to fix the papers.

Romance hums, stepping closer to you. "We did offer that you could stay with us," He voiced, placing a hand on your waist.

You look up at the male who stared down at you, a dreamy look on his face as he tried his hardest not to brush his hand on your soft-looking cheek. "Like I said, there aren't exactly many rooms in the house you reside in that could let me stay there." You pointed out.

It was true, the house they stayed in or more likely, stolen from people before they got their souls, only had five bedrooms, fitting for the five of them.

The heart shaped haired male had his eyes trail over to your plump lips and before he could quip something else, he was suddenly bumped to the side by their muscular member who couldn't help but replace the hand on your waist with his own, pulling you closer to his bigger frame. "Just stay with us." He whispers, voice deep.

You can't help but feel your heart racing at his words but put some distance by leaning back, "Abby, that's not very nice. You just hurt Romance." You frowned as you turn to the other male who immediately changed his glare pointed to Abby to a happy smile as he saw you turn to him.

"He's a big boy, he can handle a little bump." Abby rolls his eyes as Baby snickers.

Before you could tell him to apologize, Jinu walks over to you. "They're right, you know. You wouldn't have to deal with your landlord if you just stayed with us, I can just give you my room and sleep on the living room." He offers, hoping he could change your mind and stay with them instead.

"It's fine, guys really. Thanks for the offer but I really can't, you already appointed me as your manager even when I don't have much experience..." You murmured before feeling Abby's hand on your waist tighten. "It's just some old guy anyway, it's not that big of a deal." You try to reassure, lips turned up in the pretty smile that softened their exteriors.

"Do you want me to take care of him for you?" Everyone turned to Mystery who uttered those words, the rest grumbled, clearly wanting to be the one to say that to you.

You look confused by what he meant but shook your head, "No, it's alright, you don't have to."

"I'd do anything for you," The male mumble as he watched you refuse their offers some more, clearly not having heard what he mumbled.

Baby slumps into your back making you let out a cute little yelp at the added weight, "You can just sleep with me." He said, lips brushing over the back of your neck causing you to shiver.

The others immediately disproved of that.

They watched as their little Ms. Manager gave them a wave goodbye before walking off towards the bus stop.

It was silent for a bit before Baby saja finally says, "We're getting rid of him, right?"

The next day, you slammed the door open, breathing shakily as the Saja boys turned to you in concern. You were trying to catch your breath, practically running here to inform them of the news that had been delivered to you by a fellow neighbour.

"You alright, pretty girl?" Romance was the first to ask as Jinu stopped the music.

Their concern was a facade of course. They know what you were gonna say, practically smelled your scent miles away as you moved to get to them. They held back smirks of their own as they stared down at your form.

"H-he... the landlord- he's dead," You said, eyes wide and clearly still in shock. "One of my neighbours saw dismembered bodies and- oh gosh... it sounded so frightening."

The whimpers you let out highened their growing arousal as they stared at you, eyes darkening as they fought the urge to take you right then and there.

"Wh-what if that happens to me-" You were tearing up now.

Oh, those tears. Those beautiful tears.

Baby licks his lower lip at the sight, the desire to lick them with his tongue growing. He can't help but wonder what you tasted.

Jinu walks up to you immediately, in faux concern, placing a hand on you shoulder to comfort you. "We're very sad to here that..." He said with a frown and furrowed his eyebrows. "But you shouldn't worry about that happening to you, Ms. Manager."

You look up at him and the dark haired male praised himself for not pouncing on you at the sight. Sniffling, you asked. "Wh-what?"

He gave you a small yet reassuring smile, "If you stay with us, you'd never get hurt by that awful killer on the loose."

"We'll be sad without our pretty little manager to tend to our needs..." Abby adds on.

"We need you, I need you." Mystery whispers.

Your body was shaking, overwhelmed by everything that's happening.

However, if this little thing didn't change your mind yet... then they'd just have to take you, with or without your consent. You're theirs after all.

You were just their pretty, dumb manager and they'd eliminate anyone who would stand in the way of their love.

[yan-randomfandom]

Wait! Can you do the Yanderes Saja boys x reader pls? Except the reader is aroace and isn’t a fan of Kpop

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; oh anon luckilyy i'm both of those things ☺️ BUT I'M SO SORRY since it's my first time writing them, i kinda lost the point n it turned to a character study MY BAD 😭😭 feel free to send a request again!

summary; the most common imagine for the Saja Boys right now—them finding a human manager. They find the human's company a little too enjoyable....

— 🥤 [not proofread]

During their debut, Soda Pop—the Saja Boys had a passive objective: find someone in the audience who wasn't even the slightest bit interested in them.

It was Mystery who noticed you first.

Among the crowd, you glanced at them like the rest. Paused and listened like the rest. However, unlike the rest, you pulled out your phone not to record—but to draw your attention, and eventually walk away.

Mystery memorized your face. After all, with how obsessed humans are with paperwork and management, they had to have someone deal with the annoyances just to make them seem like the real deal.

So, after their performance, your presence was mentioned. They ultimately deemed that you're the one who stayed the shortest.

Jinu approached you first.

But he was an absolute loser and couldn't keep his story straight (hundreds of years of human society blurred from his knowledge), leading the rest of the Saja boys impatient and embarrassed for him.

The next best thing they do?

Reveal themselves. Threaten you. It's either your soul goes, or your free will goes.

They're not exactly the smartest, for sure... that came from Jinu's thoughts.

Nevertheless, it worked. You work for them now.

When you first got into this mess, you thought you'd be scared for your life every single day.

"But now I'm stuck with attention-seeking, clingy, needy arrogant—"

A slim finger touches your lips in a silent gesture. You glare pointedly at the demon.

Romance's stupid face is smiling. "Sshh. You should smile more. Like this." He stretches his lips further. "See? You're so much prettier when smiling."

There's nothing to smile about. You only huff and roll your eyes before obliging—a forced, crooked smile that genuinely made him wince.

Ignoring that and turning around, you spot Baby rummaging through your fridge again. You notice how loud he was doing it too; he intentionally does that to get your attention when he couldn't find anything he liked.

"I have some popsicles in the freezer," you say, walking over and opening the top part. Baby perks up at the sight and chuckles. "Bunch of flavors."

"Always know what we need," he snickers as he casually grabs all of them.

You ignore that and sit on the counter with Abby who's fumbling with his shirt buttons. He stiffens at the sight at you and plays it cool with a smile.

"Jinu's out again, huh?" you hum, gently taking over his task a moment ago. He relaxes in your care.

"Yeah," he nods. "Only a matter of time until the big boss calls him again."

Hmm. You don't know how to reply that. So, you simply don't. They rarely tell you anything, and if they do, it's always something you'd never have any context of.

You slip the last button off and pat his chest. "Done."

Abby stands up, his shirt flying dramatically away at the same time. You squint your eyes at his exposed abs that he's clearly so proud of.

Despite yourself, a snicker escapes you. Abby smirks and traces his pec with his thumb. "Beautiful, is it not?"

Cornball.

"Hey, wait," you turn away, leaving Abby disappointed from your lack of response, "where's Mystery?"

Oh, no.

You rush to your room and almost slam the door open—

Great. He's laying on your bed. Again.

"Mystery!" you yelp, and he immediately sits up at your voice. "Out! Out!!"

He scrambles out of your bed and teleports away. You do a quick inspection on your bed—alright. Nothing damaged at the very least.

You swear—you had two rules for them to which they agreed to: one, keep their human form. Second, STAY OUT OF YOUR BEDROOM. You have a guest room for their resting needs.

You head back to your living room, seeing them all huddled up on your couch. Each one of them having a popsicle with unique flavors.

"Baby," you call, only to end up with all of them turning to you. Your face flushes. "Uh, Baby. Give me one too."

He throws you a surprisingly not melted popsicle with a sweet smile.

"Thanks," you smile back. Then an idea comes in. They all seem like they're in a fairly good mood, so maybe you can take a break—

You grab a jacket from the rack. "Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind, but I'll go for a walk in the park—"

"NO," all of them growl, you flinch, turning around to see their demon forms—an exception to rule 1 is that it will be broken when they're deadly serious.

"..OkayIwon't"

— 🥀

working with crumbs.... saja boys writers u guys r killing it... also huntrix too pelase

[asce-of-hearts]

Can I please have the prompt: 🥘, for Machi from Hunter x Hunter?

Branded

Yandere!Machi with prompt: 🥘Every inch of your body I’ll mark it, section by section. (gn!reader)

more Machi content here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: MEDICAL TORTURE (BUT FREAKY), SHIBARI, YANDERE, KIDNAPPING.

"Keep still, my strings will cut if you keep squirming." Her voice is monotone and even as she speaks. Her eyes cold as he keeps moving around you, tying your limbs, contorting you in positions that shouldn't be possible. Invisible strings that bind your body, a puppet moving to her whim.

Your head hangs low in defeat, as you breathe heavily while trying to scream. But it's no use, somehow, she was able to mess with your vocal chords, slitting your throat open and then sowing it shut with such easy, it's unnatural.

She smirks, pulling at another invisible string and forcing your head up, looking at her. Her fingers move around her nen strings, tightening them around your limbs and joints. That'll leave a mark, multiple marks around the tension points.

"Every inch of your body I’ll mark it, section by section." She whispers against your skin, then walking a couple of steps away, as if examining the way you hang from her ceiling in such a strange way, almost lewd. "Until you can't remember how your body looked without my brand."

hope you enjoyed this, have a great day/night.

TAGGING: @goldenglow149 @notreallyablogger

Like my works? Join the TAG LIST!    (please write your @ correctly or else the tag won't work)

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 2

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, mild stalking, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, a little dirty talk (if you squint), dark romance, sick!reader, mild supernatural body horror (bond sickness), demons, comfort and control.

Author's notes: Thank you guys so much for all your comments, reposts, and likes! I'm definitely motivated to continue this story and have some plans in mind for the future chapters. 🥰

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 2:

Tethered in Silence

You wake up every morning feeling… better. But it doesn’t make sense. Because during the day, you feel sick. Nauseous. Lightheaded.

Your skin prickles like you’re wearing clothes that don’t belong to you. Sometimes you forget where you are mid-thought. Your body feels too heavy for this life.

But at night?

You sleep deeply. Without nightmares. Without fear.

It started the day you ran from them.

And you don’t understand it. You’ve done nothing different. No medicine works during the day. But when the sun sets… Your body calms. Your breathing evens out. You feel—safe.

You tell yourself it’s just exhaustion. You don’t know that each night, one of them watches over you.

Sometimes it’s Mystery, curled up outside your window, nose pressed to the glass like a loyal animal waiting to be let inside. He never scratches. Just listens for your breathing to steady—then smiles softly in the dark.

Sometimes it’s Romance, leaving rose petals beneath your balcony, humming one of the songs he swore he wrote just for you. The same one you’ve caught yourself humming without realizing.

Sometimes it’s Jinu—who, when your fever spikes, slips silently into your room just to stand near you until the bond calms. He never moves. Never speaks. Just watches you with reverence and restraint, fists clenched tight to keep himself from reaching for you.

And sometimes—only sometimes—it’s Baby. Not close. Just nearby. Leaning against the wall across the street. Eyes glowing faintly under his hood. Unmoving.

Watching.

They never touch you. Only witness. Only ache.

Your light. Their everything.

They hate to feel your suffering during the day—a consequence of the bond forming without proximity. But they hope that this pain you carry is what drives you toward them.

Because every night, you sleep because they’re there. And you don’t even know it.

You wake up on a Wednesday, feeling well rested—though you know that won’t last long. It never does. You sit on your counter, chewing breakfast slowly, staring off at nothing. Your eyes drift to the shelf.

Romance’s book.

It’s been sitting there for days. Untouched. Daring.

You don’t want to admit you’re curious. But your hand moves anyway. “How did he even know I wanted to read this?” You mutter around a mouthful of bread.

You waddle to the couch and crack it open. Your heart’s not ready, but you flip through the pages. And then—

You freeze.

A passage, underlined in neat black ink:

“Love that spans lifetimes is never gentle. It devours slowly.”

Your breath catches.

The creeping feeling in your chest tightens. Longing. Yearning. You don’t even know for what.

Nope.

You slam the book shut.

Not today.

You work overtime at the café the next few days, thinking you’ll outrun whatever this is. But the nights remain the same. Each one of them leaves something. A new sketchbook on your doorstep, the paper thick and expensive, with a note from Mystery:

“For when you draw us again.”

You haven’t seen him. But your heart races every time you hear footsteps outside. You swear you hear purring through the window once, but shake it off.

The day after, you come home late, too tired to even stand. You drop your bag. Your stomach growls. But your apartment smells like miso and spice. Your favorite ramen sits warm on the stove. No signs of forced entry. No windows broken. Your locks were fine. You tell yourself you must’ve made it before and forgot. You try not to look at the empty bowl already set out for you.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

Groceries show up on your doorstep. Snacks you forgot you liked. Drinks you told no one about. Sometimes a sticky note:

“Don’t skip meals, brat.” (You know it’s from Abby. You roll your eyes… and smile.)

They don’t push. But they never leave.

Letters. Tickets. Handwritten invitations. Concerts. Fanmeets. Award shows. You never go. But you read them all.

The private session ticket with your name in looping calligraphy stays on your desk. You’ve moved it twelve times. You’ve never thrown it away.

Then, on Friday of the next week, comes a final envelope.

No ticket.

No flower.

Just a single sheet of paper, torn at the edges. The ink slightly smudged like someone had been holding it for too long before sealing it. You unfold it slowly.

‘You don’t have to believe us.Just let us prove it.’—J

You sit back on your couch. Everything aches. You’re tired. Dizzy. Burning with fever in the afternoon, freezing by night. It’s getting harder to deny what’s happening. You keep telling yourself it’s a prank. A stunt. A delusion.

They’re famous. Rich. Beautiful. They have no reason to want you.

You met them once.

But the bond doesn’t care about logic. The bond wants what it wants. And as you stare at that letter in your trembling hands… You start to wonder if maybe—just maybe— you want them too.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

By Sunday, you’re fed up from feeling so sick and decide to go and buy new medicines. You’re pale. Shivering. Oblivious to the way demons on the street stop in their tracks when they see you.

One begins to follow you.

From the shadows, Rumi, Zoey, and Mira spot it.

“Target marked,” Zoey whispers.

“No incident,” Rumi replies. “Quiet takedown.”

They move in—silent, lethal. Weapons at the ready.

But then the demon sees your face.

It freezes.

Eyes wide. It backs away, trembling, then flees like it’s seen a god. You never notice. You’re inside buying Tylenol.

The girls stare after you.

“What the hell?” Rumi questions, watching as the other demons in the area back off and run somewhere else.

“That’s… not normal,” Mira mutters.

“Is it her?” Zoey questions, watching your sick form drop a vitamin jelly and curse pathetically. Pity erupts in her chest. “She seems pretty normal to me…”

“Something’s off.” Rumi states, analyzing you. You seemed like a very normal person. No markings whatsoever. Why did they flee? “Maybe we should look into it a bit more..?”

“We can run a background check.” Mira suggests. “Though it’ll just be for precaution. We shouldn’t- ZOEY?”

The rapper of the group was slowly walking towards you with the intent of engaging in conversation. 

The fluorescent lights above hum louder than usual.

Your head is pounding. Your limbs feel like lead. Every movement takes just a little more effort than it should.

You shuffle toward the over-the-counter shelf, fingers grazing through boxes of headache meds and nausea tablets. You’ve been here too many times this week.

“You okay? You look like the flu’s winning.”

The voice is light, teasing, warm.

You glance sideways and nearly drop your medicines again. Cool. Effortlessly pretty. The kind of girl who belongs on your feed—not in front of you, talking like you’re friends.

You know her face. You’ve seen her before. Not in person. But in clips. In edits. She’s Zoey—one of the girls from Huntrix.

“Sorry,” she says, flashing an easy grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You looked like I did last week when I thought I had the plague but it was just anxiety and kombucha withdrawals.”

You nod stiffly. Your throat is dry. “Yeah. I’ve just… been off…sorry, you’re Zoey, right? As in from Huntrix?”

She giggles nervously. “Yeah, I just need to grab a few things too.” She steps closer to the shelves. Casually, like she’s just browsing. “Cold stuff’s over there, but if it’s more like… migraines or vertigo? These work way faster.” She taps a pack of fast-acting tablets and hands them to you.

You take them without thinking, a little starstruck. “Thanks.”

She studies you—not overtly. But it’s there. Her eyes linger too long on your face. “No problem! I hope you feel better! Uh... I, sorry I didn’t get your name-”

“Y/N” you nodded with a nervous smile. 

“Great to meet you, Y/N! Maybe when you feel better we could hang out sometime. Get your instagram?”

You stammered, mouth gaping then closing. What was with all these pop stars approaching you as of late? “Uh, yeah, sure…” You said blinking. You were too sick for this. Why did you have to meet one of the most famous people in the country now when you looked this shitty? And she wanted your instagram? Is this real life?

You told her your instagram handle and she smiled. “Awesome! Well, I hope you feel better.” she started to walk away and you raised an eyebrow. “Uh… weren’t you supposed to get something?” 

Zoey turned red and laughed nervously. “Oh- right! Silly me. My memory is so bad. Thanks for reminding me!” 

You nodded, still a bit shocked at this whole encounter and went to pay for your medicine. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The next day, You see a clip on TikTok. It was the Saja Boys at a fanmeet. Laughing with the Huntrix girls, though the girls seemed less enthusiastic. You scroll through more of your feed and stop when you see an image.

It was Jinu and Rumi playing footsies.

You feel a pang in your heart and scroll on.

Zoey playfully hitting Mystery and his little pout after that.

Romance and Abby fanart with Mira.

"Miromabby is real!"

"Zoestery supremacy."

"Rujinu playing footsies? They’re the cutest!"

Your stomach drops.

You turn your phone off. Then on. Then off again.

“They’re not mine,” you whisper to convince yourself. “They were never mine.” You feel yourself getting weaker. A sinking feeling in your gut. It’s unexplainable. You were the one avoiding all of the boys and their madness. Why would something like this upset you? You were the one rejecting their invites.

And then something just breaks.

The next weekend, your coworkers drag you out. They mean well. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and so when one of the girls invited you to come out with them after work on a Saturday, you accept. 

They take you to a club. Loud music. Glittering lights. Free drinks. You tell yourself you deserve it.

But deep down, you feel wrong. Like you’re doing something unforgivable.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys are in their studio, practicing choreo for an upcoming show when Mystery jolts upright mid-step. His head whips toward the door. His pupils dilate. And then—

He growls. Low. Deep. Animal.

They freeze.

Romance is the first to stop moving, lips parting as he slowly lowers his mic. Abby drops into a ready stance like he’s about to charge into something. “What? What is it? What is she feeling now?”

He’s been on edge for days. Every time Mystery whimpers about your nausea or fever, he paces like a caged beast. Every time your scent spikes with sadness, he throws something across the room. It’s taken both Jinu and Baby to restrain him—twice this week alone. Once when Mystery said you slipped in the shower. Another when your heart rate flatlined in fear while walking home alone. He hasn’t stopped shaking since.

“Tell me,” Abby grits. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mystery’s hands twitch. “She’s not alone.”

Romance is already unlocking his phone, screen flipping up to your page—he checks it a hundred times a day. Sometimes a thousand. He breathes in sharply.

“She posted. Or—no, someone tagged her.”

A nightclub. Low lighting. Your smile—nervous. Shy. And then—other men.

Hands brushing your waist. A stranger whispering in your ear. Your head tilting back in a laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

The phone screen burns in Romance’s hand. His smirk dies. “Is that her?” he asks. But he already knows the answer.

Abby doesn’t bother replying. He rips the phone from Romance’s grip and snarls, muscles tensing beneath his shirt as he glares at the video. “Who the fuck are those guys?” he growls, loud enough to shake the chandelier above. “Why is he touching her? Why is she letting—”

A teacup shatters.

Baby hadn’t moved. But his hand had clenched just enough to crush the porcelain in his grip. He stands at the edge of the room, statue-still. His pupils blown wide, pitch black. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. His breathing is slow—too slow—as he watches the clip loop.

He’s memorizing the men’s faces. So he knows who to kill first.

Mystery lets out a sound—not human. It rips from his throat like a guttural whine and a growl, high-pitched and wet. His claws are out, twitching. 

“She’s letting strangers touch her,” Baby says softly. But it’s not soft. It’s dangerous.

Romance’s voice is velvet-wrapped venom. He’s smiling again, but the smile is hollow—like a cracked mask. “She’s trying to forget us,” he murmurs. “Trying to pretend she doesn’t belong to us.” His voice dips. “It won’t work.”

There’s a snap. A shift. Something ancient uncoils in the room. The temperature drops. Power hums in the air like static before a storm.

And then—they move. No plan. No hesitation. No words. Just instinct. Baby’s already calling Jinu. The leader’s in a meeting—still gathering intelligence on Rumi, on the Hunters, on the fragile balance between war and reunion.

The phone rings once. “Yes?” Jinu’s voice is curt, sharp with authority.

“She’s at the club,” Baby says calmly.

Jinu doesn’t respond at first. There’s the sound of footsteps. A tiger’s whine. Then Baby adds, like a bullet to the heart:

“Men are touching her.”

The phone crackles. Not with sound, but with energy. Dark, feral, electric. Baby can feel the shift through the line. Something old stirs. Something broken. Then—

Jinu’s voice returns. But it’s not Jinu.

It’s the voice of the thing that crawled to Gwi Ma 400 years ago, begging to bring you back. It’s older. Colder. Hungrier.

“Where is she?”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're tipsy. Laughing. Warm. The club pulses like a heartbeat beneath your skin—bass thudding through your ribs, lights smearing color over your vision. You haven’t felt this loose in ages. Not since university. Not since before the dreams started. Before the headaches. Before the boys.

Your coworkers sway around you, drunk and shouting. One of them pours you another shot. You take it. You let it burn. It’s easier to blame the sick feeling in your chest on the alcohol now. Easier than admitting that you’ve been haunted.

You don’t notice the guy your friends brought getting too close. Not at first. He presses against your back under the excuse of helping you keep balance. His hand slides to your waist. You laugh it off. You don’t want to make a scene.

Another drink. Another dizzy smile. Another moment where you forget who you are. “Come on,” he says, too close to your ear. “Let me walk you home.”

You nod. You shouldn’t have.

He throws his jacket over your shoulders like it’s a favor. Wraps an arm around you. Guides you through the club’s glowing mouth into the alley beside it.

The world tilts sideways. Your pulse buzzes against your skull. And then—you round the corner.

And they're there.

Five shadows cut from the dark like carved obsidian. They don’t speak. They don’t have to. Your breath hitches in your throat. The bond snaps into place like a noose and for the first time all night—you can breathe. The ache behind your eyes disappears. Your limbs go steady. Your nausea evaporates. And even in your drunken haze, you know it’s because of them.

The boys who haunt your dreams. The demons who ruin your peace. The monsters who feel like home.

Abby moves first. He doesn’t speak to you. His full, furious attention is on the man still touching you. “Touch her again,” Abby growls, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll shatter every bone in your body.”

Romance steps into view, golden eyes gleaming like firelight. He tsks, slow and mocking. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs, eyes trailing down your body like he’s savoring the view of you in your dress. “Out here, letting strangers paw at what isn’t theirs.”

His gaze lingers on your thighs. The hem of your dress. Your dazed expression. You see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “She forgot us,” he says with a small, cruel smile. “So she let herself be touched.”

Romance leans in with a sickly sweet smile aimed at the guy by your side. “She’s not yours to protect,” he whispers. “So if you would so kindly… fuck off.”

The guy squares his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think—” His voice dies the moment his eyes land on the figure behind them all.

Baby.

Still. Silent. Watching. His pupils are blown wide, pitch black. Shadows crawl up his arms like smoke.

The guy’s bravado crumples. “Hey, hey—I didn’t know she was spoken for…” He stumbles back. Your balance wavers. 

Mystery darts forward, catching you in his arms like you were made to fit there. He buries his nose in your neck with a shaky inhale. Like it's the only thing in the entire world that could calm him down. You don’t push him away.

“Y/N? You know these guys?” your friend calls weakly.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. Your voice is slurred, but you don’t miss how Romance is staring—burning holes through your clothes. Your spine prickles. He rakes his eyes over you slowly, like memorizing every inch. You remember the way he said you belonged to him. And for a second, you want to.

Abby moves closer again, jaw tense. His eyes flick from your dazed expression to the guy who dared to touch you earlier. He sees red.

“Take care of him,” Baby says, the words barely audible—but they’re a death sentence. Abby cracks his knuckles.

“With pleasure.”

“Don’t look, baby,” Mystery whispers into your ear. You shiver. His voice is soft, but it carries heat. Danger. Something low coils in your stomach, and lower still. His hands tighten around your waist and you melt. You don’t even notice the scream behind you.

“You came,” you slur, eyes glossy. “I… feel better now…”

“Is that so, princess?” Romance frowns, stepping closer. He tilts your chin with two fingers. The bond flares. A moan slips from his throat before he can stop it. His eyes fall lower—to the swell of your chest in that too-short dress.

“Did you wear this for them?” He asks through gritted teeth. “For all those men to see you like this?”

His jaw tenses. His hands twitch. Mystery’s fingers dig into your hips and you gasp. It’s too much. You whimper. And it breaks something in all of them.

Romance yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, turning away with a curse. Marks rise on his skin, glowing faintly. You don’t even notice.

But then—

Jinu steps from the shadows. His gaze is ice. Piercing. Regal. He spares no glance for the man Abby dragged away. Only you.

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly.

You flinch.

“You’re reckless.”

Tears prick at your eyes. You know you shouldn’t have gone out. You know you shouldn’t feel better just because they’re here. But you do. Jinu’s hand reaches for your jaw, and you go still. The moment his fingers graze your skin, the bond explodes between you. You can’t breathe.

He leans down until your noses almost touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So reckless. So breakable.”

Jinu trails his nose on the side of your neck causing a shiver to erupt down your spine.

“If you’d stopped pretending this wasn’t real, you’d be spread across my lap, begging us to forgive you.”

You suck in a breath. Every nerve in your body screams. You squeeze your thighs together. This is wrong. This is insane. You should be running.

But you’re not.

You’re melting.

He lets go. You nearly fall forward—but he catches you. Of course he does.

They don’t ask.

They don’t wait.

They take you home.

Theirs.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

From the rooftop nearby, Mira watches the scene unfold.

The way the boys surround you.

The way you lean into them like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.

And then—

They vanish in smoke. With you.

She presses a finger to her earpiece. “She’s not normal,” she whispers. “And she’s gone with them.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sheets are silk under your touch. A splitting headache forms and you groan, last night’s party flooding back like a cruel wave. You decide you’re never drinking again.

Your eyes open—and your stomach twists. The ceiling isn’t yours. You bolt upright, heart pounding. And they’re there.

All five of them. Beautiful. Dangerous. Familiar in a way that makes your soul ache. They’re watching you. Some with concern. Some with reverence. Some like they want to devour you.

“Where am I?” you breathe. Your voice shakes. “Why am I here?”

You look around wildly, mind racing. You remember the latter events of the night. Romance’s gaze. Mystery’s breath on your ear. Abby’s voice like thunder. Baby’s black eyes. Jinu’s warning...

“You took me,” you gasp. “You took me.”

Abby steps forward first—hands raised like you’re a spooked animal. “You were in danger.”

“I was out with my friends,” you argue.

Mystery whispers from where he kneels near the door. “You’re always in danger when you’re not with us.” His voice is soft, but it cuts like glass.

Romance kneels beside the bed next. Too graceful. Too close. “Let us explain.”

You scramble back, trembling. “No. No more dreams. No more tricks.” Your hands press to your temples. “I’m not yours.”

You say it like you need to believe it. Like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

Baby finally speaks from the shadows. “Then why do you feel safer here than you’ve felt in your entire life?”

His voice is emotionless. Clinical. But something about it makes your skin erupt in chills. You freeze. Because he’s right. And that terrifies you.

Abby sits at the edge of the bed, watching you like a kicked dog. “You must be tired. How about a bath first, hmm?” His voice is too gentle for someone so strong.

You flinch. He notices.  And it kills him.

“I should go home—”

“Please, stay,” Mystery pleads. His voice is almost a whimper. You look at him and feel your heartbeat falter. Then Jinu approaches. Deliberate. Measured. The pull in your chest pulses harder.

“We would never hurt you,” he says, voice steady. “Please allow us to explain.”

You glance around. Five sets of eyes. Each one begging for the same thing. Not obedience. Not fear. A chance.

You sigh. “Fine. But I need a bath first.”

They release a breath like they’d been underwater for hours. Romance smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

So there you were, sitting on the edge of a couch that costs more than your rent. Hair damp and in clothes way too big for you. Based on the scent, you hate how you could tell they were Jinu’s. Unbeknown to you, the guys had drawn sticks to decide who’s clothes you would wear after your shower. 

Velvet cushions. Mahogany floors. Tall windows draped in gauzy silk that sways with no wind. You don’t know where you are.

But it smells like them. Like rain on stone, smoke, citrus, old paper, and heat.

You’re in their apartment.

And they’re all still here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like wolves circling their starved mate—but trying to look civilized about it.

Abby comes up from behind you, handing you a glass of water and two painkillers. “For your pretty little head. It must be pounding right now” 

You noticed his extra caution and nervousness and it broke your heart a little bit even if it shouldn’t. You take the medicine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, princess.” 

The room is bathed in silence after you take your medicine. Five pairs of eyes staring at you with longing and another emotion you were too afraid to acknowledge. Fondness? 

Love?

You shake your head at the thought. 

All of them couldn’t believe you were here. In their clothes sitting on their couch in their apartment. It was almost too good to be true. They had to be careful. They couldn’t afford to have you run like last time. 

Because they knew they wouldn’t just let you go now. Now that you’re here in their clutches. They’d make you stay.

Romance is the first to speak. “You’ve been dreaming of us.”

It isn’t a guess.

You swallow. Hard. “How do you know that?”

Mystery, curled up on a cushion across from you, answers in a low murmur. “Because we feel it when you do.”

You flinch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jinu steps forward slowly, crouching down like he’s afraid you’ll bolt. “The bond is active again.”

You cock your head to the side like a puppy. It was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. 

Baby’s fists tighten, resisting the urge to pounce on you.

Jinu speaks. “Your soul remembers. But your mind doesn’t. That’s why you feel sick during the day. Why you sleep like you’ve finally come home.”

He doesn’t touch you—but he gestures to the sketchbook on their coffee table. “You’ve been drawing us, haven’t you?”

You glance down. The sketchbook you didn’t bring with you. The one Mystery must have brought you. The pages are full of lines you don’t remember making. Faces. Threads. A burning palace. A blood moon. And five boys who all look like them.

“These don’t mean anything,” you say quietly. But your voice shakes.

Abby leans against the far wall, arms crossed. “You feel cold during the day. Like you’re not in your own skin.”

You nod slowly. “And you’ve been dizzy. Unsteady. Like something inside you is pulling.”

More nods. “That’s the bond, too.”

Romance sits down across from you, not too close. For once, he looks serious. “You don’t have to believe everything right now. But you feel it. Don’t you?”

“The thread. Between us.”

You try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

You stand up abruptly, putting the coffee table between you and all of them. They all flinch like they’re ready to catch you if you run. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m having dreams that don’t feel like mine. I’m drawing with a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Baby’s voice cuts in—calm and sharp. “You’re not losing your mind.”

“You’re remembering what was taken from you.”

You turn to Jinu, eyes wet with frustration. “Then explain it. Really explain it. No more riddles.”

Jinu takes a breath like it hurts to speak the words. The others go quiet. You feel the room shift—heavier. Like the bond itself is listening.

“You died.”

His voice is low. Steady. But grief hums under every syllable. “Four hundred years ago. You died. And it was my fault.”

He doesn’t blink. “I sold my soul to Gwi Ma for fame. I thought I wanted luxury, adoration—immortality. I got it. But then I met you.”

“You were just a girl. Bright. Human. Good. You saw me for what I was—a demon. And you stayed anyway.”

Your eyebrows raised at the mention of demon, but listened on, letting him finish.

“But I was selfish. And you paid the price. When you died, I begged Gwi Ma- the demon king to bring you back. He said no.”

His fists clench on his knees. And you began to think maybe he was crazy. A demon king? Really?

“So I made a deal. If I could bind other demons to your soul—build a tether strong enough to pull you back across lifetimes—he’d let you be reborn.”

He looks at you now. Really looks.

“And I did. I found them. Each one of us—Abby, Romance, Mystery, Baby—we lived lives tied to you. Not all at once. Not always together.”

“In every lifetime, you met one of us. You fell in love. You died. Again and again.”

Your breath catches in your throat and fear grips you. I died? Multiple times? Are they crazy? Every rational thought within you told you to reject this explanation. This Fairytale and yet…

When you looked into each of their eyes they were sincere. Jinu’s eyes holding so much truth so much anguish. Either they were psychos who believed their lies or…

It was all the truth. And that terrified you.

“You’ve lived dozens of lives, and in every one, your soul was trying to return to the pact.”

“Now… we’re all here. Together. Finally.”

“And your soul remembers.”

You sit frozen. The blood drains from your face. Your voice comes out broken: “So… I’m not me.”

Jinu’s expression shatters. He moves toward you slowly—like you’ll flee again. “You are you. You’re this lifetime’s version of her. But you’re more than this moment. You’re all the love, all the pain, all the choices you made to find your way back to us.”

Questions began swimming in your mind. Demons? They were demons? There was a Demon king, this Gwi Ma… it was all so crazy. Too crazy. Maybe too crazy to be a lie… How else would you explain this tether to them, this bond. How you’ve been feeling. The dreams, the sketches, the visions. It lines up with this story. 

Mystery whispers from the corner, cutting through your thoughts. “We missed you every time.”

There was a pain in his gaze, and you looked around to see that same pain reflected in everyone’s eyes. 

You needed more details. More explanations. Them not being human made sense, that was clear to you. But everything else, just seemed so bizarre to be true. Demons were real? You had been reincarnated? And they had loved you throughout those lifetimes? Their souls were tied to yours? 

Well, that last bit had you believing, because at least that last bit you actually felt.

It was all too crazy and you sighed, rubbing your temples. You didn’t want to believe them but somehow you just did. Like it all made sense. And deep down you knew it was the truth. 

You let the silence stretch. Something hot stings behind your eyes. “So what now?... You expect me to just—fall in love with you all?”

Baby answers this time. Voice low. Final. “No.”

“We expect you to remember that you already did.”

Your head is pounding. Not in a normal way. It feels like something is unraveling behind your eyes—memories that don’t belong to you pressing against the inside of your skull like water through cracked glass.

You close your eyes. The room spins. You hear a voice. Soft. Familiar.

“Don’t push her,” Jinu murmurs to the others. “She’s at the edge.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You want to argue. Scream. Say it’s all ridiculous. Say you don’t believe in past lives or demons or fate.

But your heart won’t let you. And neither will the thread quietly tugging behind your ribs. You don’t realize you’ve sunk back onto the couch until Mystery is gently placing a pillow behind your head, his touch featherlight. He doesn’t speak. Just hums something low and wordless as your eyes flutter shut.

Your head still hurts, but less. The weight of everything presses down—and still, for the first time in days, you don’t feel alone.

Romance crouches nearby, hands on his knees, watching you through his lashes. “We’re not asking you to love us today.”

“We’re asking for a chance.”

Abby, his arms crossed, finally uncrosses them. “A chance to take care of you. Like we were supposed to.”

You open your eyes. The ceiling above you glows faintly with soft reflected light. There’s no sound but their breathing. And your own heartbeat.

“Just… a chance?” you whisper.

Jinu kneels beside the couch again. “That’s all.”

“And if I don’t remember?”

He smiles—small. Sad.

“Then we’ll give you a thousand new reasons to love us again.”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no.

You close your eyes.

And this time, when the bond pulses gently at the base of your spine like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you…

You let it.

TO BE CONTINUED ───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's note: Wahhh I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! Things are picking up now and the ball is rolling. I sprinkled in a little bit of naughtiness there just to hint on eventual spice down the line... eventually, when it feels right! But let me know if you guys liked this one, reblog, comment, and like if you wish too! <3 Love y'allWilla x.

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

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.  

[snail-day]

Just thinking about how pissed off idol! Satoru gets when he's at the signing table with the rest of the group and you, an audacious little thing, skip over him. Like, most fans at least stop to say hi to everyone, maybe blush a little or even ask for a quick selfie. Basic fan etiquette, right? But you? No, you walk past him every single time, eyes locked on Suguru like Satoru isn’t even there. As if Satoru isn't the most popular member of the group.

At first, he laughed it off. Shrugged. Maybe you were nervous. Maybe you didn’t want to look desperate in front of your bias.

But then you did it again. And again. Every damn fan event, every meet and greet. Always with that sweet smile for Suguru, a polite nod for Nanami, even a little blush for Sukuna, of all people, but nothing for him. Not even eye contact. Simply acting like he doesn’t even exist.

And that? That pisses him off more than anything.

He tells himself it’s nothing. That you’re just another fan. But then he finds your Instagram.

You follow every member - except him. You've posted shots of your wall lined with photocards. Suguru’s limited-edition album cover, Nanami’s keychain, Sukuna’s photocard. No sight of him. Not even once. Not even daring to read your captions.

Again, it shouldn't matter. You're just some nobody that can't even reach his level. He’s got millions of followers. Fans who scream his name. People who cry when he so much as waves.

But somehow you've invaded his mind. You’ve become an itch he can’t scratch. A face he searches for during performances. He’s memorized your posts, studied the filters you use, stared at your tagged location until his manager started asking questions.

So this time, when you line up at the meet and greet again - when you try to glide right past him with that same practiced indifference - he acts before he thinks.

Leans over the table, fingers gently brushing your wrist as you try to hand your album to Suguru.

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, eyes hidden by tinted lenses, smile just a bit too wide. “Thought we had a thing going. No kiss for me?”

The cameras go wild.

Flash after flash, fans gasping, security moving in. Your stunned expression immortalized in high definition. Satoru doesn’t care. He’s grinning like a man who just won.

And when the headlines drop the next morning - “Gojo Satoru Gets Flirty With Fan - Who's the Mystery Girl?” he's ignoring requests from his managers to speak about the situation. Ignoring that call from the head of his company.

Instead, he can't help but laugh when he sees that you finally followed him. How cute.

[vanillinwrites]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

--------------------------------------- 

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

---------------------------

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 1

Synopsis: The end of their tour is just around the corner, one more show. Too bad some demons decide to ruin their party.

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn (?), Yandere (?)

CW: None

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I’m desperately trying to push these out while the hype is real.

————————————————————

”La, la, la, la, la, la, la~”

”La, La, La, La, La, La, Laa~~”

”LA, LA, LA, LA, LA, LA, LAAA~~~”

Locked in an airplane bathroom, a slowly rising voice echos about that can barely be heard from the outside. The tone ranging from fierce to soft in seconds between each line of words or sounds from her mouth.

Shocking to think this came from a girl who hasn’t performed in front of an audience since she as a child.

“I’ve always felt like a monster”

”Long before I was bit~”

”Only seen as a monster~ Let’s just say I’m used to it~”

”And I grew tired cause loving had only hurt me bad”

“But loving you is a good problem to have”

”And I’m used to that, but I could get used to this~”

*Knock*

*Knock*

”Hey (Y/N), you gonna join us for our carb load? Don’t worry we have plenty enough for you! If you want to that is. You don’t have to if you don’t feel like it.” Zoey asks from the other side with clear excitement yet nervousness in her tone.

Only in recent times has (Y/N) grew comfortable enough to eat with the girls. For the first few days of meeting each other, she didn’t exactly talk that much. Or even made eye contact.

One on one conversations didn’t last very long in some cases, devolving into awkward silence usually with Rumi and Mira. Zoey on the other hand tended to continue her fun topics of discussion and even unintentionally rant about little things that have ticked her off or grabbed her interest.

Ended up dragging (Y/N) into watching all her turtle videos at one point. And to think (Y/N) ended up watching the entirety without a break along with Zoey.

That’s when the girls figured out something.

Just when they thought (Y/N) wasn’t listening or even uninterested in their talks, she always took everything in.

Simply listening to what they say with small gestures and hums that indicate her awareness.

Overtime, they met eyes as one talks.

And the next, she was beginning to speak and respond.

Though even at the beginnings they noticed her slight tremor and shivering as one would approach and or initiated conversations.

But time has passed.

Progress was made.

The social barrier was breaking down steadily.

And their unknowing hunger for that softness and comfort grew

“U-Um, sure. I’ll be out in a second.”

”(Gasp) Really?! Okay! I’ll tell the girls!”

Hearing Zoey speed off made (Y/N) chuckle at the cartoonish footsteps and visual in her head. (She looked like sanic)

Before she unlocked the door, she took one final look in the mirror. Something she did often enough to become habit. It wasn’t the kind of admiring like being in awe of yourself or even picking out flaws in your appearance or self.

No.

Her eyes always just stared ahead.

No blinking.

No words.

No thoughts.

All besides one…

Despite everything in the world…

It’s still you.

Turning her head away and unlocking the door. She was met again with the prestigious white walls and cushioned seats of the plane, with the compartments of materials for the plane attendants to use and serve for them in their areas.

Just outside at a small table filled to the brim with carb heavy foods scattered about. The three hunters already decked out in their performance attires and faces of makeup, eagerly awaiting to bring joy to their fans.

She didn’t exactly match the dress code.

Just a simple yet sophisticated attire of black and purple with hints of gold about. A purple buttoned cropped top, black flared pants with the ends a shire grey with patterned webs, expected black boots, a black and gold blazer jacket and a black tie loosely done.

Complimenting her further with dangling gold earrings with thin tassels. Hanging from her waist is a small lavender blue charm with two flower stones of the centre with loose strands of material. A small thin string of a mix of gold and silver instruments strung about, ranging from an electric and acoustic guitar, to a violin and piano.

Despite the similar golds and charms on their attires, hers felt out of place.

Their faces lighting up upon meeting her own (f/c) and gold rimmed eyes.

“(Y/N)! We were just about to start! Come huddle with us!” Zoey eagerly pulls the usually anxious girl along with them, placing herself between the maknae and their dancer.

“Okay, this is our biggest show yet.”

“The most songs.”

“The most notes.”

”The most moves.”

”Which means the most carb loading.”

”For the fans!”

Hastily grabbing a couple of kimbap for herself, seeing as the three stuffs whatever they grab on the table. (Y/N) felt a bit envious that they eat and talk so comfortably with each other with food splattering out at time. Preferring to savour her food and not choke out of pure embarrassment.

Not that the girls would ever judge.

But that did allow her to send the plane attendants apologetic smiles and bows, for they have to clean up the mess.

’Apologies, I know how you feel.’

Though that didn’t stop the lady attendant to back away from them.

”Okay, time for our pre-game ramyeon!”

“Here you go (N/N), hope you don’t mind this flavour.” Mira hands her a ramyeon cup with her face and flavour on it. Feeling grateful for not being left out again she sends the tall girl a thankful thumbs up and smile.

”Happy fans, happy Honmoon!”

“Wait, there’s no water in these.”

As Rumi was asking the attendant for water, her ringtone began to go off. Seeing the caller ID she hastily answered.

“Hi, Bobby!”

"Yeah, hi! Um, what are you doing?"

"About to eat our pre-show ramyeon."

"Pre-show? What about the show-show?"

Finishing off her kimbap with a nervous gulp, (Y/N) smacked her own face out of pure shame.

'I should've known!'

Considering her position in HUNTR/X set by her mother and Celine, they pulled some strings and made her part of staff as strange mix of a producer, co-writer and manager along with Bobby. Difference was that she lived with them and had a hand in their music.

When it comes to music, she's the one to go to.

Whether it be making samples and demos, to finalising a few songs in their instrumentals and fixing up little details.

But for demons?

Its a different story...

As the girls were talking to Bobby (and greeting the fans that stole his phone for a few seconds), (Y/N) just stared at the staff with them. Looking closer now, it was obvious they were demons.

I mean...

Pouring coffee in a plant, randomly observing a spoon like it was an art piece and not to mention spinning hotteok like a wheel instead of eating it? Need she say more?

The girls seemed to fully realise what was up as they disappointedly glared at them. Groaning about not finishing their food.

"I didn't even get to finish my ramyeon!"

"Why do they always interrupt our snacking?"

"(Garbled) They will face my wrath!"

"(Whispered) Zoey, make sure not to choke, please."

Rumi confronted the demons with a board expression, obviously pointing out their strange behaviours and spotting patterns along their arms. Stepping on ones foot fully revealed their colourful and abnormal real forms.

"Oh, you got the patterns. Now you gotta die."

Taking a step behind the girls to let them deal with the demons verbally, (Y/N) took all of their cups and skidded past everyone making sure to avoid the confrontation.

"Not our fans."

"When you mess with our fans..."

"We need to make it hurt."

"Ugh, you came at a bad time"

"But you just crossed the line"

"You wanna get wild?"

"Okay, I'll show you wild!"

Twirling around and holding down the demons while beating them hand-to-hand, unphased as they begun to sing their song. Heating up the kettle and passing it to Mira to further beat down a demon into a seat.

The large demons shadow towered over (Y/N), planning to strike the fourth down without hesitation. But her (f/c) and gold eyes saw it him first. Ducking underneath his arm and quickly pouring the hot water in her and Mira's cups before throwing the kettle and the hamburger flavoured cup for Zoey.

Beating down the leaping demons while pouring for herself and Rumi with no sweat.

Manoeuvring through the thrown around demons with her cup in hand, (Y/N) avoided the touch of any demon.

Its not like she could do much anyway.

Though before digging into to their ramyeon, they had something to finish off.

"Knocking you out like a lullaby~"

"Hear that sound ringing in your mind~"

Threads of blues and whites swerve around each of the girls, forming into unique shined weapons in hand. Daggers for Zoey, a spear for Mira and a sword of Rumi.

But the threads around (Y/N) came around and formed into a glowing blue and purple parasol. Emitting rays of light that make the demons freeze when touched.

"Better sit down for the show"

"'Cause I'm gonna show you how it's done, done, done"

Slicing and dicing the demons that dare to come their way. Eagerness writhing on their faces as they slice down the demons. All the while, (Y/N) hums and adlibs through the song. Each line and twist of the parasol emitted a ray of light.

Glancing around at the girls, adoration and fun filled their expressions. Moving like lightning speed and the highlighting colours of their blades faster than usual and bodies consumed by calmness and beauty.

"Run, run, we run the town"

"Whole world playin' our sound"

"Turnin' up, it's goin' down"

"Huntrix show this, how it's done, done, done"

Interrupting their little beating, the aircraft shook as the lights flickered off. Quickly making sure their ramyeon wasn't ruined and in hand, they looked outside to see flying pieces of the plane with the demons on them.

"Yeah, this plane's trashed."

Slurping up their noodles and downing the soup with a sigh of relief-with no hesitation, the four of them dropped out of the plane at lighting speed. (Parasol still in hand but closed)

”Won either way, we're one in a million“

“We killin', we bring it, you want it? Okay”

Catching up with the escaped demons, landing on them as they fixed up some makeup and appearances. Pulling out of her pocket gulped down a pill of sorts with a bottle of water she somehow managed to down while falling.

“Heels, nails, blade, mascara”

“Fit check for my napalm era”

“Need to beat my face, make it cute and savage”

“Mirror, mirror on my phone, who's the baddest? (Us, hello?)“

Approaching closer to the stadium, the three hunters rocket towards the centre stage in glowing blue light. (Y/N) diverges from their path and opens her parasol, encasing her body with a mix of blue and lavender petals. Finding herself backstage with many stage crew members and staff running about.

A spare microphone lazily placed on a spare speaker, she takes it away and runs to the sound guys by the controls.

“It’s showtime! Run it from 1:57 but make sure to keep the backing track. We need blue lights pointing in from the back of the roof top the stage coming from the sky.”

Nodding along with her instructions as they swiftly get to work. One worker handing her three other microphones as she runs towards the edge of the stage.

Spotting the three demons in the centre and the large shadows of the girls in the smoke screen,

”Knocking you out Iike a lullaby”

”Hear that sound ringing in your mind”

”Better sit down for the show”

”Cause I’m gonna show you (I’m gonna show you~)”

”(I’m gonna show you~) How it’s done-done-done”

Striking down the demons (Y/N) hastily threw the mics to the girls that they caught effortlessly. Mira even smirking at her as they continue their song.

”I don’t talk, but I bite, full of venom (Uh)”

”Spittin’ facts, you know that’s”

”Okay, like, I know I ramble”

”But when shootin’ my words, I go Rambo”

”Took blood, sweat, and tears, to look natural (Uh)”

”That’s how its done-done-done”

Hiding behind near the supposed makeup room, (Y/N) tightly holds the mic and listeners carefully to the backing track and counts the time until its just her and Rumi.

“Hear our voice unwavering”

”Til our song defeats the night”

”Makin’ fear afraid to breathe”

”Til the dark meets the light~ (how its done-done-done)”

Pushing her vocals to its highest as she meets with Rumi’s high note. Continuing to belt and echo the chorus through towards the end.

“HUNTR/X don’t miss, how its done-done-done~”

‘One down, many others to go…’

————————————————————

Edit: WHERE R U PEOPLE COMING FRKM? Genuinely curious, but thank you so much for loving this idea I had! Also first time trying a tag list

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicious, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna

[zulashi-the-writer]

Can I get headcanons for the Yanderes Saja boys x reader respectively?

Of course, always welcome to ask💚

Yandere Saja Boys 👹

Yan Saja Boys: the thing that intrigued them about you was the fact you never looked in their direction, never spared them a single second of your time even when abby showed off his glistening abs the rest of the girls fainted around you, jinu thought you were broken and decided to follow you his eyes basically rolled out of his head as he saw you scream your head off for Huntrix in his head you were definitely broken and left but you never left any of the boys heads, the boys would try one by one to talk to you but got absolutely nothing.

Yan Saja Boys: they are definitely the manipulating type, with everything bad happening to Huntrix they would blame you, they'd appear behind you and whisper hurtful things and when the idol awards happened they had you in the palm of their hands tears streaming down your face broken, ready to mold into their pretty flightless bird Jinu and Romance are the biggest manipulators in the group, Baby is the punisher he always has a sinister smile when of thinking of ways to punish you, Mystery and Abby are the ones to treat you like a doll something they can put makeup on and dress you up in whatever they like.

Yan Saja Boys: they made a deal with Gwi-Ma, no other demons including him are allowed to touch you, you are theirs and only they can touch they see it as impurity if they did you are their pure white bird so innocent too easy to corrupt I mean look how you fell right into their cage you should be thanking them that it was them to capture you instead of someone else who could be 10× worse then them.

Yan Saja Boys: they forced you to watch their finale show tied up on stage, staring out into the crowd watching all the people disappear Huntrix was there but nothing happened they looked as broken as you when Gwi-Ma was satisfied Abby picked you up and you disappeared into the demon realm stuck with them forever.

Yan Saja Boys: they were definitely upgraded after all the souls consumed and you became their spoilt rotten princess you were such a delectable dessert for their twisted minds they never gave you space or privacy made your whole world them no one else can take over a split second of your attention away from them, you belong to them and only them and their more then happy to show you.

Taglist

@bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee