#chrollo lucilfer x you

[chrollogy]

THE COST OF DEVOTION | chrollo lucilfer x f!reader

synopsis: When Chrollo Lucilfer is assigned to go undercover, and kill a billionaire’s daughter, he finds himself breaking the most sacred rule of the underworld—that there should be no feelings involved. The consequences of his actions backs Chrollo into a corner where he has to choose between fulfilling the job or following his heart at a risky price.

18+ MDNI; undercover assassin!chrollo, bodyguard!chrollo, billionaire’s daughter!reader, loosely follows some canon events (chrollo’s past), reader is referred to as ‘miss’, DARK CONTENT, DARK ROMANCE, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort (no happy ending), explicit smut, SLOW BURN, major character death, touches on arranged marriage, cheating, killing, money laundering, human trafficking, kidnapping, sacrilege & blood (briefly), gun use, chrollo struggles with feelings, chrollo has scars, OCs mentioned, not beta read.

word count: 18.6k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. ITS HERE !! thank u to @ljubimaya & @avatarofstars for supporting me throughout the writing process and for being such amazing friends :3 this is different from my usual fics + super self indulgent so enjoy. feedbacks & thoughts are much appreciated ><

Loud music, enough to make one’s chest thump, annoying bright strobe lights, and the sea of intoxicated bodies that passionately danced with one another without a care in the world, Chrollo wanted out. He observed the luxury club with a subtle scowl, gaze sharp enough to tear one’s throat as he watched the spoiled, and rich carelessly sway to the beat of the music—you were one of them.

A privileged affluent businessman’s daughter who didn’t know how to handle one’s wealth so she resorts to spending nights swiping her card for overpriced drinks, and whatever expensive shit the club had to offer.

Meanwhile, the lower class had to work themselves to near death to be able to provide for their families. One, two, three jobs just to make ends meet—just to pay rent, just to bring food to the table even if it meant working for the underworld.

That was where Chrollo fell into the spectrum; fortunate enough to live but unfortunate enough to live a cruel life in an equally cruel world. He grew up learning how to steal, fight, and kill while you grew up having maids cook every meal, a solid roof over your head, and generational wealth to spend.

It made Chrollo sick to his stomach how wealthy kids like you could just take, take, and take yet had the audacity to complain about their lives as if society didn’t favour them at all. He could go on, and on about this whole ordeal but at the end of the day, no one would even bat an eye, plus, he had a job to do—technically, two jobs.

At the heart of the sweaty, inebriated club, you stood there beneath the neon strobe lights, it bounced off the strands of your hair like a colourful aura mirroring your careless joy. Body perfectly swaying to the beat of the music, a half-full glass of a sweet cocktail, and a blissful expression on your face; maybe if the circumstances were different Chrollo would have smiled at your blithe spirit but it wasn’t.

Your eyes—a drunken haze—found his own to which you immediately acknowledged with a cheery wave of your free hand.

It only took a split second for Chrollo to mask the obvious scowl on his face with a sickly saccharine smile—one that made his gut twist with disgust—he returned the gesture with a dip of his chin paired with raising a glass of water in the air as if to make a toast. Chrollo’s expression fell the minute you turned away, unceremoniously slouching back into the leathered booth you’ve booked beforehand, he let out a deep sigh, and rubbed at his temples.

Two weeks

It had only been two weeks since your father—Chrollo’s employer—hired him as your personal bodyguard, and as expected, extensive pre-screening was a must before one could securely acquire said role which Chrollo found extremely bothersome despite its lack of difficulty. Though this wasn’t a rare occurrence, it only made sense for the rich to hire a skilled bodyguard to protect oneself from unknown dangers.

Obviously, he didn’t apply to be your personal bodyguard for sincere reasons—far from it, actually; Chrollo was here for a task that would land him his heftiest pay yet, even just thinking about made his head spin with immeasurable happiness already but Chrollo figured he’d bask in filthy money after completing the job. He always did.

If anything, this should be a walk in the park for him considering there was nothing more satisfying than seeing the demise of a wealthy brat. But for now, he’d take it slow, and earn your trust ‘til the right time comes; where his mask falls, and true motives come to light.

Where the last thing the assassin would receive from you was a look of pure horror much like his previous targets. Would you beg for him to spare your life like others did? Or would you sit in complete shock, words lodged deep inside your throat?

These thoughts immediately dissipated at the call of his name; a few feet away, you stumbled your way towards the booth, the highball glass tucked in your hand was now empty with only half melted ice cubes remaining. Chrollo stood up, wrapping a firm arm around your back, helping you regain balance before guiding you to the leathered seat, the fabric cool against your feverish skin.

“Should I call the chauffeur, miss?” Chrollo feigned worry. His stature loomed over your sitting figure, back lit with red neon strobe lights, giving him a deep crimson glow. You stared at him longer than necessary before responding with a small nod; the wild atmosphere, paired with your spinning vision seemed like a good enough hint to head home, and retire for the night.

At your agreement, Chrollo let out a big mental sigh of relief—he may be an adept assassin but sitting idly for hours while watching his asset drink the night away exhausted his patience more than one could imagine.

The ride back to the estate was all a drunken haze for you, though, you recalled a brief exchange of words between Chrollo, and your chauffeur as the latter helped you inside the vehicle before, they seemed to get along swimmingly despite the former only being a new addition to your personal staff. Albeit, that description might be a bit too generous, maybe it was just your drunk self thinking but nonetheless, you appreciated the courteous manner between the two. 

“Lukas?”

You called out to the chauffeur, he donned a formal attire just like Chrollo—a black tailored suit—he was an old-timer who had been your father’s previous chauffeur before you were born. It was safe to say you’ve learned a lot from him growing up, and maybe even served more as a father figure than your biological one.

“Yes, miss?” Lukas glanced briefly at the rear-view mirror. “Chrollo . . He’s nice, isn’t he?”

The older man could only chuckle in response, letting your words soak into the darkness of the vehicle before nodding, “He’s a promising young lad.” He glanced at the mirror once again, this time letting his gaze linger on you, headlights from the vehicle Chrollo drove behind poured into the backseat, and illuminated your face; Lukas didn’t know if it was due to your drunken state or from pure sincerity but the subtle smile on your face somewhat warmed his heart.

He took a mental note that you seemed to be quite fond of your new bodyguard.

After safely reaching the estate, and escorting you inside, Chrollo made his way to the staff house. Walking past the wooden double doors, he was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice, “Off to bed, Chrollo?” It was Lukas, your chauffeur; he sat on one of the crimson couches, one hand nursing a cup of hot coffee.

Chrollo stared at the old man’s face behind the wisps of steam from the drink, the latter donned a rather pleased look on his face, he thought nothing of it, and nodded, “And yourself?”

Lukas returned the nod, “A little later for me.”

Silence occupied the living room for a moment. Chrollo could’ve left the conversation at that but instead, he stood there, feet rooted on the wooden floor, sensing that Lukas had more to say but was debating on it.

Seeing as he didn’t want to waste any more time, Chrollo spoke up “Is there something else you’d like to say?” His voice cut through the quiet atmosphere, he had now angled his body towards the older man. Lukas set the mug atop the coffee table before giving him his full attention, “The young miss seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Chrollo didn’t know how to react to that—even if he did, he wouldn’t have let on.

At his silence, Lukas invited himself to speak further, “At times, she can be quite a handful . . but hearing her speak positively of you warms my heart. What I’m trying to say is, please take good care of the young miss, it means a lot for her to say such things about you.”

Trust? Good.

Chrollo’s rosy lips stretched into a genuine smile, “I will. Thank you.” And with that, he excused himself before heading to his room, the soles of his obsidian shoes produced no noise with each step. He wasn’t happy because you seemed to like him, no, Chrollo was happy because you trusted him so easily—probably the biggest mistake you’ve made.

Though, nothing would really change if you didn’t trust him, either way, you’d meet your demise no matter what.

As the new week rolled around, it was no surprise that Chrollo had already memorised your weekly routine—without a doubt, you spent days in the office but he had noted other destinations you frequented.

On Mondays, you visited a cosy flower boutique in the morning, owned by a lovely old florist who’s cheeks were as pink as the camellias neatly displayed on the counter next to her. You only bought one type of flower—white chrysanthemums, a dozen, to be exact; they were carefully wrapped in a simple brown paper, and topped off with an ivory satin ribbon.

On the way back to the car, Chrollo wondered why you chose these specific flowers, and upon asking, you simply replied with:

‘White chrysanthemums symbolise devoted love, and loyalty—something we need more of in this world, don’t you think?’ 

How ironic. He had no knowledge about flowers but he always thought white chrysanthemums meant death, specifically a symbol of mourning, and grief—a flower fit for one’s grave yet you displayed them in a vase to bring life into your room.

If you were being completely honest, chrysanthemums didn’t hold any significance in your life; one day you decided to visit the flower boutique run by the old lady, and she had told you all about the flower. Oddly enough, you started to grow fond of it.

Chrysanthemums were awfully common in his hometown—Meteor City—and not in a good way; inhabited by untraceable outcasts, it was the perfect hunting ground for illegal activities such as human trafficking, as well as an endless source of disposable hitmen, and assassins like Chrollo himself.

Due to mass abductions, and murders of the people, chrysanthemums were laid out at the church for each victim; he could clearly remember walking down the aisle, a smell so sweet, and minty filled the thick atmosphere. For an aroma so pleasant, who would’ve thought it was associated with such sorrow?

On Tuesdays, you attended your private pilates lesson at 8 AM on the dot which lasted a little under an hour. As usual, Chrollo stayed idly by the entrance of the studio, just at the foyer as the muffled voice of your instructor seeped from under the closed door; this was usually paired with brunch at a local café after, as per your words, ‘a much needed caffeine break’ whatever that meant. He couldn’t care less, he was too busy assessing the layout of the building for an escape route, and potential threats as though he wasn’t the biggest threat here.

The window seat offered a clear view of the street outside, vehicles driving by, people in their own little world as they headed to their destination; not to mention the ample morning sunlight that poured in, allowing you to study Chrollo’s reflection from the glass.

He stood behind you with his back facing the window, scanning the entire café; you watched as his head slowly moved from left to right, then right to left, giving you a peek of his side profile. Your eyes traced every dip, and curve of Chrollo’s face, from the slope of his nose, all the way to the sharpness of his jawline. It was odd how this man—who barely talked to you unless necessary—had piqued your interest. In what way? That was something you were still trying to figure out.

How Chrollo carried himself with silent confidence stood out from the rest of your security team; sure, he was vigilant of his surroundings but each action he displayed was calculated, and clean—too clean. You’ve also noticed how his steps were much lighter than everyone else’s, it made almost no sound as though he was actively stalking a prey. And for a brief moment, you wondered who that prey was.

On Wednesdays, you were present at your father’s company for the whole day. Though, the scowl on your face clearly screamed your opposition; it wasn’t a secret to anyone how uninterested you were in all the business talk—in fact, if anyone were to ask about it, you could probably go on, and on about how boring, and tedious it was, conversely, if asked what you wanted to do in life, you’d probably have a hard time answering.

Alas, as the sole heir, the company automatically fell to your hands whether you liked it or not. Wednesdays were always a drag, having to make acquaintances with investors, and show face during monotonous meetings that rarely concerned you—you’d rather spend time elsewhere.

On Thursdays, you were also at the company but for a different reason. Chrollo only knew you reported straight to your father’s office, and he was often ordered to wait at the ground floor. The meeting with your father always took approximately two hours, and each time, you came out looking like someone had pressed all your buttons.

Though today, for the sake of Chrollo’s own selfish curiosity, seeing as the hallway was deserted, he lingered outside the office for a bit but all he really got was pure silence—either you, and your father conversed in a hushed voice or the walls were soundproof. Whatever the case was, Chrollo didn’t bother sticking around but he was quickly stopped in his tracks as voices from inside were suddenly raised—yours first, followed by your father.

Looking back at the office door, Chrollo heard you shout in opposition, it seemed like the conversation had somewhat turned into a heated argument. Nonetheless, he continued down the hallway—it was none of Chrollo’s business, after all.

“No! I’ve already told you, I’m not doing that!” Loud voice sliced through the growing tension inside the room. The older male—who sat behind his desk—leaned back into the seat, leather groaning beneath his weight as he rubbed his temples at your stubbornness, clearly displeased with how much you were blowing everything out of proportion. You stayed rooted in your spot, just standing a metre away from your father.

“Look, darling, I’ve already agreed—” “Agreed without my consent.” Raising your hands in defeat, you paced around the room, each heavy step muffled by the crimson carpet beneath your soles. “I’m the one getting married to someone I haven’t met! I never even wanted to be in an arranged marriage just because of what—a stupid business partnership?!”

This was the first time you’ve raised your voice at your father; all the years under his care, and guidance, you gladly accepted what was left upon your hands. Continuing the legacy of your father’s company? Sure, no problem, you could deal the burden on your shoulders but marrying a complete stranger?

That was more than crossing a mere boundary.

Your father was a skilled business man, and you never doubted that once—he was excellent at negotiating, and closing deals so for him to stoop as low as agreeing with an arranged marriage for the sake of his company, it baffled you, a lot. What more could he possibly want?

“I’m done with this conversation.”

Letting out a breath you’ve been holding, you turned around, and headed for the door but before reaching the silver handle, your father spoke up from behind, “Next week. You’re attending the corporate event with Euan. That’s final.” All you could do was nod.

Chrollo spotted your rather distressed figure exit the elevator, and head for the car park, not so much sparing a glance as you passed him; nonetheless, he quietly trailed you, steely gaze observing your figure up, and down—shoulders tight, and fists clenched at your side.

You felt defeated.

The thought of spending the rest of your life with a man you didn’t genuinely love, was that really your so-called future? A bond made for the sole purpose of expanding business?

Stepping into the underground car park, you stopped in your tracks, the automatic glass door silently humming as it closed behind you. Naturally, Chrollo did the same but didn’t dare speak up. Click clack. Two clicks from the soles of your shoes as you turned to face your bodyguard with a deflated expression, he could only raise a brow in surprise before you sat on your haunches, and buried your face inside the hearts of your palms.

Oh.

One, two, three seconds—it took Chrollo exactly three seconds to register the sight before him, and he didn’t know what to do; awkwardness settled in the air between the two of you as you sobbed into your hands. He moved closer—taking a few cautious steps as though he walked on eggshells—and squatted down to your level, “Miss?” He called out, his dulcet voice drowned by your soft whimpers, every muscle in Chrollo’s body was stiff, movements unsure.

What was he supposed to do? Reach out, and stroke your hair? Pull you close against his chest? Chrollo was more than sure that doing so was completely unprofessional on his end. So, he was reduced to sitting next to you, silently watching your shoulders shake with each muffled sob until you finally decided to lift your head, “I apologise for acting this way. I’m certain you probably don’t care but—”

Correct. Chrollo did not care.

“My father has been pushing me in an arranged marriage. I kept saying ‘no’ until he went behind my back, and agreed to it. I found out today and I just—I lost it. The benefits of what comes after marriage are endless for the company; more investors, more money, more security but is that really worth sacrificing my shot at finding the one I truly love?”

Saying the words aloud made it sound so silly. Finding your one true love, how naïve, that only happened in children’s fairy tales.

Upon learning the reason for your upset, Chrollo could only nod, he wasn’t the type to console anyone, let alone his employer’s daughter. The last time he could remember doing so was almost a decade, and a half ago during the time his dear friend—Sarasa—went missing.

It was a rainy day in Meteor City, Chrollo remembered hugging his friends tightly, reassuring them that everything was going to be alright even though uncertainty gnawed at his skin. 

He was innocent, and didn’t know better then.

But the incident with Sarasa was what fuelled his pure hatred for the wealthy. Chrollo was only a kid, full of limitless joy, and hope despite growing up in poverty. It was during the height of abductions in Meteor City, and that was when he learned that not even his friends were immune from illegal activities after seeing it with his own eyes.

It was broad daylight, and Sarasa had been forced into a car by two large men—as if one wasn’t enough to take a helpless little girl. The worst part was, Chrollo could only stand, and watch as his friend got taken away with nothing but helpless tears in his eyes, and a blazing anger that burned a thousand suns.

He could still recall the way his nails dug into the hearts of his palms, the temporary pain it felt. The incident haunted his coming days, hearing Sarasa’s screams at night, and how she begged for the men to spare her life.

Chrollo overheard from the Elders that the ones behind illegal abductions were the wealthy, and that night, he made a promise to avenge Sarasa—even if it meant taking lives. It was clear the rich were parasites of the world, greedy for money, and power, leaving none behind for the unfortunate. 

Chrollo couldn’t bring himself to understand your situation, and emotions—he didn’t have to but some odd part made him want to.

From Fridays to Sundays, you usually spent the time out with friends but as the days came, you remained cooped up inside your room, and only came out unless necessary. The thought of isolating yourself somewhat ate away at Chrollo, despite not being able to fully grasp your situation, he figured it must have been a breaking point for you, and deep down, for some weird reason, he was worried.

This was the first time you’ve shown him an emotion other than happiness—which he presumed was most likely out of professionalism—so seeing your distressed state had him rather curious.

Stationed just outside the doors to your room, Chrollo couldn’t do anything to quench the sparked interest inside him—guarding the entrance of your room was all there was to do which ended up with him drowning in his thoughts while standing idly. Even though Chrollo didn’t understand your sentiment, he knew no one should marry a stranger for the sake of business.

Though, Chrollo didn’t have much time to ponder about your situation as his replacement came walking up the stairs meaning it was the end of his shift for the day. He entertained a brief exchange with his co-worker before heading out.

Walking down the stone path that led to the deserted flower garden, Chrollo dug into the inside pocket of his blazer, and took out a burner phone. As the assassin dialled a number, he was greeted with a view of endless greenery decorated with bright hues from a variety of flowers; the floral aroma wrapped around his body like a fluffy blanket. Somehow, the sweet scent reminded Chrollo of you.

The cheap phone rang once, twice ‘til a familiar voice spilled through its speakers, “I’m guessing you’re here to update me?” The male on the other side of the call questioned. Chrollo agreed, and the line went silent, urging him to give the details.

As he gave a thorough update, Chrollo mindlessly walked down the stone path, various colours making its way to his line of vision. Though, a particular flower caught his eye—a sea of yellow as bright as the morning rays decorated several bushes on the ground. While speaking into the phone, Chrollo squatted down to its level, and examined the delicate flower, Bird’s foot trefoil, the small ivory signage before it read.

Two months, that was the amount of time given to complete the job. It was reasonable enough with the amount of security you were surrounded with, and even though Chrollo was the only bodyguard you took whenever you left the house, Lukas remained by your side as well—he made sure not to underestimate the old timer.

Chrollo had never heard of this man before but from what he knew, he seemed to be about the same age. Why the man was seeking out revenge by targeting your life was also something that remained a mystery—after all, Chrollo was only there to kill, details weren’t necessary when it came to an assassin.

“‘M not gonna tell you how to do your job but remember, time is ticking, and I’m spending a whole lot of money on this, yeah?”

Voicing his agreement before ending the call, he took one last look at the flower, and stood up, heading for the staff house.

It was about time Chrollo hunted for his prey.

With the new week, everyone prepared for the corporate event in a few hours—even Chrollo himself, as well as the rest of the security team was busy scouting the venue, and looking for any potential threats around, and inside the building.

Tonight, he donned a sleek, all black look which was slightly different from the usual white button down, and black suit he wore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, employees, and important investors began pouring in the building; the inside boasted a formal theme with a lavish teardrop crystal chandelier that mimicked the shine of a thousand diamonds, round tables were draped in ivory cloths which housed a bunch of butterfly pea flowers encased in sleek ceramic vases.

Silence was replaced with melodic laughter, and casual conversations between acquaintances, and co-workers as the vast room was slowly filled with more people.

Having arrived at the venue earlier, Chrollo stood by the entrance, waiting for your arrival. As the familiar vehicle rolled around, Lukas exited the vehicle, and opened the rear passenger door.

Expecting you to come out of the vehicle, Chrollo was caught slightly off-guard when a stranger clad in a navy blue tuxedo did so instead—he donned obsidian strands that carefully framed his handsome face, and piercing honeyed eyes that was sure to make any woman swoon.

The assassin watched as he turned to face the vehicle, and held out a hand to you. Taking up on the polite offer, you held his hand, and gracefully stepped out of the vehicle. And there you were, in all your serene beauty, skin glowing beneath the warm streetlights that made Chrollo inhale a sharp breath for some odd reason.

“Thank you, Euan.” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Euan? Chrollo thought.

With how he lovingly kissed the back of your hand, and from the way you forced a smile, it wasn’t hard to piece together that this was the man you were forced to marry. Somehow, Chrollo felt a tinge of annoyance spark within the depths of his chest—maybe because he was aware of the whole arranged marriage situation or maybe because he was yet in the presence of another stuck up, pompous spoiled person. 

Euan interlaced his fingers with yours before heading towards the entrance, Chrollo didn’t miss the way the diamond ring on your finger twinkled like stars in the night sky. Surprisingly, Euan acknowledged Chrollo with a dip of his chin; you mirrored your date’s action, and only then did the assassin respond in the same way.

The event was boring as one would have expected, your father—the CEO—mostly talked about the company’s milestones up on the podium, he held a champagne flute in one hand filled with golden liquid while entertaining the room with uneventful accomplishments. Though, what you didn’t expect tonight was for your father to openly reveal your arranged marriage with Euan in front of your subordinates, and investors,

“It’s my pleasure to announce that the COO of D&J—my daughter—is soon to be wed with Mr. Euan Heston from Heston Enterprises.”

As endless applause, and supportive smiles filled the venue, you sat frozen on your seat, unable to muster even the tiniest smile. From the corner of your vision, you could see Euan bashfully nodding his head, and shaking hands with those in neighbouring tables as they congratulated him. You stared at your father in complete disdain which only prompted a forced smile from him.

Unbelievable.

A shaky breath escaped your lips before swallowing the raging emotions, pushing them down, down, down to the depths of your core, and as though a switch inside you was flipped, a smile stretched across your face, throwing out thank you’s to those who offered their support.

With the end of the CEO’s speech, and certain formalities, all that’s left was to mix, and mingle with everyone else which—thankfully—Euan did while you quietly sneaked away to the open bar. Although, visibly drowning yourself in more champagne only invited more guests to come, and gush about the weighted ring on your finger, not to mention how openly they adored Euan.

Hearing such high praise thrown his way, you caught yourself staring at your soon-to-be husband; you watched as he gracefully waltzed from table to table, engaging in polite conversations with not only the important people in the room but also with your subordinates.

Euan was well-mannered, kind, and respectful—he was everything your father wanted as your husband but he wasn’t made for you, and deep down, you knew that.

From the corner of the room, Chrollo watched it all unfold. From the way you stiffened beneath everyone’s stares as your father revealed the marriage, all the way to your gaze finding Euan amongst the crowd. He felt weird.

Albeit subtle, Chrollo sensed it was there—as though a foreign seed had been planted in his chest waiting for it to grow, and destroy him from inside out. Whether it produced the fruit of anger, revenge or some other emotion in the dictionary, he couldn’t tell, all he knew was it took root inside his heart.

As Chrollo got lost in his thoughts for a bit, he was greeted with an empty barstool that was previously occupied by you; he scanned the vast room, stone cold eyes darting from left to right, and right to left trying to catch a glimpse of your familiar figure.

Slight panic didn’t settle in until Chrollo realised that you were nowhere to be seen—the feeling began to gnaw at his very bones as the attempts of finding your whereabouts led to a dead end, he even went as far as asking a woman standing just outside the bathroom if she’s seen you walk in but only shook her head.

Wide, panicked steps, Chrollo unceremoniously crossed the room in search of you while almost bumping into several guests in a nervous haze; he muttered out whispered apologies, gaze remaining ahead. His heart thumped loudly against his ears, serving as a mere distraction to throw off his already breaking composure.

God, your father would absolutely kill him if he were to find out that he’d lost sight of you.

But Chrollo wasn’t scared of that, not even an ounce of fear in his body at the thought of your father’s wrath, instead, he worried for your safety; the more minutes passed without a trace of you, the more frustration consumed every fibre of him.

The only option left was to check the balcony.

With a bated breath, he opened the sliding door, a gentle, cool breeze of the night greeted him like a welcome hug. His gaze scanned the open area which—thankfully—landed on your familiar figure, you stood there, leaning against the metal railing while looking up at the obsidian skies.

Relief briefly washed over Chrollo as he let out a sigh but this feeling was soon replaced with red, hot anger.

He stalked over to where you stood, each step heavy with annoyance, “Where have you been? I was looking all over for you! Don’t run off like that.”

The ever calm, and collected bodyguard coming for your neck with such ferocity caught you off guard, not to mention the obvious bite in his tone. With furrowed brows, you turned to face Chrollo, a look of disbelief painted on your face. The audacity of this man. Who the hell was he to boss you around as though you were his subordinate?

“That’s ‘miss’ for you—” You crossed your arms, head slightly tilted upwards as you looked down at him from your nose.

“And relax, Chrollo. I’m not harmed. I don’t see what the fuss is about.” You were absolutely right, and Chrollo hated that you were because he didn’t know where else to channel his anger, if anything, your words doused the flame inside his chest with gasoline, allowing it to expand, and burn an azure fire.

Despite his better judgement, Chrollo let it consume him, “Relax? I’m your bodyguard, it’s my duty to keep you safe, and out of danger! What if something happens to you, and I’m not around, hm?”

Chrollo felt the foreign seed inside his chest grow into uncertainty—an odd feeling he’s never felt before. Speaking out like this, and losing his cool over a situation was out of character for him but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as though words willingly flew out of his throat, and out into the open.

“Exactly, you’re only a bodyguard. You have no right to act this way towards me. Have you forgotten I’m not your equal?” You retorted, dishing out the same amount of ferocity he had given you.

Initially, you were going to let the whole thing slide, it was understandable where Chrollo was coming from—he was only doing his job—but it pissed you off seeing as how he had the audacity to act like that.

You looked up at the taller man, gaze not backing down from his steely ones; it took him a couple of seconds to hold your stare before breaking it, and looking off to the dark horizon. Though, you swore you saw his eyes subtly dip down for a split second before doing so—you weren’t too sure, maybe it was the darkness playing tricks.

You were right. Chrollo was only a bodyguard, so did he cross the line? The unclear answer made him all the more furious but for now, he’d have to settle for the explanation that he’s your bodyguard, and he has the right to worry about your safety. Even if Chrollo himself didn’t entirely believe this reason.

“You’re right. I apologise for crossing any boundaries, miss.”

Chrollo stationed himself near the sliding door, offering you space to enjoy the quiet night in peace. Now, you felt kind of bad for raising your voice at him when he clearly showed nothing but concern; you chalked it up to the stress your father weighed upon you tonight—the decision to tell everyone about the marriage, Euan being your date for tonight, the engagement ring that wrapped around your finger.

It was clear that Chrollo was still bothered about the whole thing, you could see it from the way his jaw tightened, and the subtle crease between his brows. Whatever. You’ll deal with it later.

A petty argument. That was it. But why did it have Chrollo all worked up? Why was he extremely bothered about it? Hell, where was that useless fiancé of yours, and why wasn’t he looking after you? Questions swirled in his mind, chaotic, and uncertain—now, Chrollo was really wondering why he was acting this way. In his twenty-six years of living, never had he felt this feeling before, it stemmed from his chest, blooming across his body, and consuming him in an unpleasant, foreign way.

The feeling stayed rooted inside even until reaching the estate where he stood guarding the door to your room.

Chrollo rubbed his forefinger, and thumb together while staring at the marbled tiles beneath his feet, it was past midnight now, and the only sound heard was the thumping of his own heart—the rhythmic beat that somewhat got louder with each passing minute.

He was soon reeled back into reality at the sound of the door opening behind him. Stepping out of your room, Chrollo watched as the darkness unclasped your body from its confines; he quickly averted his gaze at your vulnerable state—clad in a flimsy ivory nightgown that stopped just below the knees with satin ribbon straps comfortably sitting on your shoulders. He felt it was rather inappropriate seeing you in such an attire.

“Ahem. Anything you need, miss?” Chrollo coughed into his fist, staring at the darkness behind you instead of holding the gaze thrown his way.

Letting out a sigh, you replied, “I think I need to clear my head a bit . . Care to join me for a night drive? That way you’ll know my whereabouts.” The end of your sentence had a tinge of bitterness laced with it but Chrollo shrugged it off, it’d be no use trying to pick up where the two of you left off earlier.

“I take it as a yes, then? Meet me at the garage.” With that, you walked down the stairs, the thin fabric of your nightgown swaying with each step taken.

Chrollo quickly headed to the staff house to grab the keys to his assigned vehicle. Making his way to the door, he immediately stopped in his tracks as a sudden idea popped into mind—the gun hidden beneath his pillows.

Chrollo stared at his bed before swiftly lifting the ivory pillow, revealing a pistol given to him upon acquiring the bodyguard role. Without a word, he tucked it inside the holster beneath the obsidian blazer he donned, and walked out of the bedroom, heading for the garage.

Disappearing into the night, an odd feeling engulfed Chrollo—he wondered whether the gun on his hip portrayed him as your bodyguard or as your assassin.

Something he has never thought about before because it had always been the latter, regardless of the situation. Nonetheless, the weapon felt awfully heavy hanging onto him—as though it was a great burden that took an even greater effort to get rid of.

The drive was awkward, and there was no set destination; the only instruction you gave Chrollo was to keep driving, and he did, without questions asked. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the low humming of the engine which lulled you further into your thoughts, warm streetlights would illuminate the inside which allowed Chrollo to sneak brief glances at you through the rearview mirror. He didn’t want to pry but it was clear you were overwhelmed with a lot of things.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology caught Chrollo off guard, stone cold gaze looking through the mirror to meet your own for a split second. “Miss?” He furrowed his brows. “For earlier. I said some harsh words as well, and you were only doing your job. So, I apologise.” Now, it was your turn to steal glances through the rearview mirror. Chrollo’s expression remained unchanged—most likely trying to find an appropriate answer. 

He shook his head, fully aware you peered at him through the mirror, “It’s no big deal . . It wasn’t my place to raise my voice. As you said earlier, I’m just a bodyguard.” Chrollo’s eyes remained on the road ahead, enveloped by the night, he didn’t know why it suddenly became hard to glance through the mirror—maybe it was the unmistakable knowledge that you’d be staring straight back.

Was he nervous?

Impossible. There was no such emotion in his dictionary.

“It’s just—the whole announcing the marriage with Euan in front of all the guests stressed me out. The marriage is set in stone without my permission, and I just feel so helpless . .” You watched the outside view go by, dull colours of the night blending into a blurry haze.

“I know the arrangement has benefits. I know that.” It was directed more to yourself than Chrollo, as though some part of you agreed with the marriage.

“Euan is . . He’s sweet—a kind soul but I cannot see myself loving him, spending the rest of my life with him.” The assassin gripped the wheel a little tighter at the mention of your fiancé. “I don’t think anyone should ever go through that.” He cleared his throat, stealing another glance at you.

“You mentioned a while ago—” Chrollo spoke up, deciding to deviate the topic from Euan. “That the marriage would benefit the company ‘more security’ . .” He trailed off, realising how he’s prying but you didn’t seem to mind with how openly you replied.

“Long story short, my father had a very close friend—Mr. Driscoll—in the industry. It was later revealed that he was involved in money laundering so most of his assets came from illegal dealings. My father played a significant role in his arrest—basically, Driscoll was stupid enough to tell my father of his underground ties, urging him to do it as well. But my father had tipped the police instead. Naturally, his son, Ciaran Driscoll—who’s now the CEO of the company—saw us in a bad light, and it won’t take long until he makes my father pay for the damages done.”

“The arranged marriage with Euan would obviously combine our security team with theirs which would decrease the chances of Ciaran, and any other dangers from getting near my father, and I.”

Yet Chrollo was here—an assassin tasked to kill you—who easily took on the role of your personal bodyguard.

How ironic.

You really did need that extra security from the Hestons.

“Ciaran Driscoll?” Chrollo muttered the name under his breath which you quickly caught onto. “Yeah. Ciaran Driscoll from Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, you know him?” He wouldn’t necessarily say he knew him but Chrollo was awfully familiar with the name—familiar enough to conclude that Ciaran was the one who hired him to kill you.

Despite meeting at a deserted location back then—nowhere near that gave any hints of Ciaran’s real identity—one of his subordinates had addressed him by his last name which Chrollo immediately picked up.

The pieces fit flawlessly. It made sense for Ciaran to get revenge for Mr. Driscoll’s arrest by targeting what your father held most dear in his life—you. And for that to happen, Chrollo was the middle man, the one to fuel the chaos between two families.

If he got the job done.

“No.” Chrollo lied. “Just thought the last name rang a bell.”

“Understandable, they’re a household name. Well, it used to be.”

Short silence filled the vehicle yet again, both left to their own thoughts before you spoke up, albeit, it was more of thinking aloud, “I truly don’t know what I want in life.” Odd. Chrollo always thought that if one was wealthy, they’d be able to wish for anything, and everything yet somehow, even with all the gold in your hands, you were still lost.

Chrollo pitied you, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

Hell, he didn’t even know whether it was appropriate to reply. What did he know? He was someone born into poverty who didn’t have the luxury to question himself about what he wanted in life, just having to see another was already a blessing itself. Well, it wasn’t like the outcasts of society were given a choice on how to lead one’s life anyway.

The car fell in another silence but this time it was much longer, long enough for Chrollo to glance at the rearview mirror to see your eyes closed, and head leaning against the window, the rhythmic rise, and fall of your chest indicating the slumber you were in.

It was almost laughable how Chrollo was able to prove his theory right—that the rich were greedy for an even greater amount of money, the obvious example was the ex-CEO of Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, Ciaran’s father.

Chrollo’s grip on the wheel tightened, leather burning against his palms at the mere thought of dirty business. Illegal dealings. It was possible he had a hand in Sarasa's kidnapping. Mr. Driscoll didn’t belong in jail, no, he belonged before the barrel of Chrollo’s gun.

Taking another glance at your sleeping form, Chrollo quietly pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before twisting his torso to face you. Warm streetlights casted a gentle glow upon your features, piercing grey eyes carefully tracing each one as though you were a divine creature—otherworldly, and beautiful.

You looked so peaceful, and undisturbed. Vulnerable.

While his eyes remained on you, Chrollo slowly slid a hand inside his blazer, reaching for the gun affixed by his hip.

The assassin pulled it out, pointing the barrel to your head, the weapon cool against the warmth of his hand. In, and out, he drew steady breaths, forefinger hovering over the trigger—one pull, and it’d be over.

The problem was, Chrollo couldn’t do it.

He has pulled the trigger countless times as though it was second nature, so why couldn’t he do it now? He couldn’t even bring himself to let his digit touch it.

As you stirred in your sleep, Chrollo swiftly tucked the gun back in his holster, and faced forward. Shaky, uneven breaths slipped past his parted lips, the sound of his heartbeat clouding his senses.

Hands balling into fists, he wondered what had gotten into him, mind racing with a million thoughts as he drowned in pure uncertainty. Chrollo stared at his hands—the same hands that have spilled blood countless times, the same hands that killed without a second thought, the same hands that were tasked to murder you.

Yet here he was, unable to do so as if it were his first time.

“Chrollo?” You mumbled aloud. As you peeled your eyes open, you tried to register your surroundings. “Why did we stop? Is there something wrong?”

He cleared his throat, taking a quick glance through the rearview mirror before shaking his head, “No, miss. I just had to take a quick call, my apologies.” With that, Chrollo pulled away from the side of the road, taking you back to the estate.

The ride home was silent. Fortunately for Chrollo, this gave him the opportunity to calm his thoughts, and steady his growing breaths.

Obviously this has never happened before, especially while out on a mission; it made sense for the assassin to lose his cool a bit after hesitating. If anything, it was akin to a bird suddenly losing the ability to fly when flying was the only thing it knew. To make things worse, Chrollo had just broken the unspoken rule of the underworld—to never hesitate.

To the underworld, hesitating meant fragility, and fragility meant that the enemy had the upper hand. He was confused, and conflicted, more so upset at himself for being such a coward—why was he a coward?

After returning to the estate, you softly called out to Chrollo who was heading to the staff house, “Do you want to come inside?” All it took was that foreign look in your face for him to fully understand what you meant.

He didn’t have to assume anything—you’ve never looked at Chrollo with such a burning gaze, full of intent, and vulnerability. God, it was a brazen move to do so but you wished he agreed. All you needed was a little company at the moment.

Something in the air shifted. Maybe it was because you were both stripped of your layers, baring your defenceless forms out in the open. Maybe it was the way Chrollo’s rational thinking became compromised on the way home. Or maybe it was how you oddly felt comfortable around his presence, as though he was a lifelong friend.

Nonetheless, Chrollo found himself inside your bedroom, and as expected, it was grand, spacious, fit for a billionaire’s daughter. Sweet aroma of fresh chrysanthemum’s filled the air but it was nothing like he had remembered back in Meteor City which was laced with grief, and sorrow. Instead, it enveloped Chrollo in a warm welcoming hug, he could finally understand your interpretation of chrysanthemums—devoted love, and loyalty.

Moonlight spilled from the windows, illuminating the side of Chrollo’s face. He was just standing there yet he mirrored the divinity of an angel as soft shadows contoured his handsome face, dark eyes gleaming beneath the dulcet glow; you’ve never been able to decipher the emotions behind his gaze but tonight was different, his stare was soft mixed with hint of uncertainty; Chrollo wore his heart on his sleeves.

“Help me escape even for a little while.” 

Like the obedient bodyguard he was, he nodded. Chrollo took one step closer, reaching out a hand to gently undo one of the satin ribbon straps. The flimsy fabric gracefully slid off your right shoulder, just enough to expose your pert nipple. It hardened beneath the cool evening air which had Chrollo swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing with pure excitement, and hunger; oh, how he couldn’t wait to put his lips on your skin, and devour you.

Wasting no time to undo the other ribbon strap, your nightgown instantly fell to the carpeted floors, the fabric pooling around your feet, leaving you almost completely bare in front of Chrollo.

Your skin grew feverish beneath his observant stare as he traced every dip, and curve, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo’s lips were on your skin, palms finding home just above your waist; he placed gentle kisses down the side of your neck as though on a mission to mark you, pulling dainty gasps in the process.

You tasted absolutely divine—like a hopeful prayer between his lips, and he craved for more. Soft smacks slowly filled your ears as he praised you with kisses. Down, down, down Chrollo’s lips went before stopping at the junction of your neck, he gave the sensitive skin an experimental lick to which you responded with a heated gasp of his name.

Tilting your head to the side allowed more freedom for Chrollo to explore; hands coming up to tangle with his raven strands, and tug at it urged him to mark your skin with hues of dark purple, and red.

And he did. Gentle, wet kisses turned into rough, electric ones as Chrollo used both teeth, and tongue to nip, and suck at your skin.

“Chrollo—!” 

The assassin could only grunt in response as he carved himself onto your skin like knife on wood—over, and over again ‘til it left a lasting mark. And when you stare at these sinful hues in the mirror, you’d be reminded of the feel of his lips, how his kisses turned your legs into a wobbly mess, and mind into a lustful haze.

Embarrassing, warm wetness pooled on the fabric of your panties as Chrollo neared your breasts, you watched with a bated breath, and keen eyes as he wrapped his lips around a mound—the sinful sight of Chrollo trying to take in as much of it as he could had your legs buckling, you were sure to have met the floor if it weren’t for his firm hold.

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your nipple, teeth gently grazing the sensitive spot which sent lightning down the length of your spine.

Eager hands tugged at the roots of his obsidian strands, nails raking across his scalp; it was beyond lewd how you readily pushed your bare body into Chrollo’s face—a man you’ve only known for less than a month yet here he was, wicked lips made of fire against your naked skin that melted like ice.

A large hand snaked its way up your front, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and pausing just beneath the other breast before cupping it wholly—the heart of his palm rubbing against your sensitive nipple as he massaged, and toyed with the fat.

Without an ounce of shame left in inside you, you wantonly moaned his name at the feel of his lips, and hand making love to your chest, it had Chrollo twitching in his slacks but he paid no mind to it because tonight was about ravishing your body until no one else could compare—not even Euan Heston.

Chrollo didn’t know what this meant for the both of you after but that was okay because once the night ends, your body would crave for none but him, and only him.

Chrollo let go of your swollen, wet breast with a soft pop, he looked up through his lashes before licking his lips, as though he just devoured the tastiest meal of his life.

Working his way down your torso, he placed chaste kisses down the valley of your breasts, steadily sinking to his knees as he descended further, each passing second growing closer to your heat—where you needed him the most.

Before Chrollo could kiss the intimate spot just below your belly button, you cupped his face, making him look up at you with slight confusion,

“On the bed . .”

Three words was all he needed to understand before standing to his full height, “Jump.” Chrollo ordered. You didn’t need to be told twice before doing so, arms, and legs wrapping around him while he supported your weight.

As Chrollo sauntered to the bed, you used the time to eagerly explore the spot beneath his ear, using teeth, and tongue to suck at it which pulled a few soft sighs from him. His intoxicating scent filled your senses, the sweet minty aroma from chrysanthemums mixed with his musky perfume had you groaning into his skin.

He shuddered at the feeling, the tips of his fingers digging further into the fat of your ass.

Gently laying you down on the pillows beneath, he stared at the serene beauty before him, steely eyes drinking in your nakedness. Chrollo’s stare felt like you stood directly under the blazing sun on a summer day, igniting your skin to the core without anywhere to take cover but you liked it, you liked the feeling of his hungry stare, how he looked at you like fresh meat on a silver platter—a predator, and his prey.

As if to put on a show, Chrollo hastily shrugged off his blazer, mindlessly throwing it on the floor, leaving him with a white button down. He caught a glimpse of your lust-clouded gaze staring at the gun affixed to his hip to which he immediately removed by unclasping the holster.

The weapon landed on the floor with a heavy thud, you paid no mind to it but for Chrollo, it served as a harsh reminder of his real motive, and everything that would happen tonight was nothing but an insignificant moment in his life.

At least that's what he convinced himself this was.

The mattress groaned beneath Chrollo’s weight as he dipped down, wasting no time to connect his lips on your bare skin, and picking up where he left off—right below your belly button.

He kissed at it before wickedly pulling the waistband of your panties using his lips, and letting go of it to snap against your skin. A small gasp escaped your lips at the feel of the slight burning sensation which had you aching for more; it also didn’t help how his hot breath ghosted over the most intimate part of your body.

Though, before you could open your mouth, and beg, Chrollo hooked a forefinger around the waistband, and swiftly tugged it down the length of your legs, wet cunt squeezing at nothing as the cool air embraced its heat.  

Chrollo took his time to enjoy the bare sight before him by placing open-mouthed kisses dangerously near your sopping cunt—on your inner thighs, below your belly button, and the spot just above your clit. It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, fingers digging into the sheets beneath; what a wicked, wicked man, he hasn’t even properly touched you yet here you were, legs shaking from all the teasing.

Pride bloomed across his chest at the sight of you—the fucked out expression you donned, the heavy rise, and fall of your chest, and the dainty whimpers that filled the air.

Hooking his hands behind your knees, Chrollo gently pushed them towards your chest ‘til you were folded in half, glistening cunt deliciously exposed for him to devour.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips as Chrollo traced his tongue around the outside of your clit before laying the wet muscle flat against it. He expertly rubbed at the sensitive nub, lewd sounds mixed with your shameless moans engulfed his ears, encouraging him to further stimulate the spot.

Your hips bucked against his face, hands flying down to his hair as the electric sensation returned to your body, sending massive jolts of lightning down the curve of your spine.

“Chrollo, right there! Yes—haah!” You gasped as he switched to the tip of his tongue to lick at your clit. 

Chrollo placed his thumb, and forefinger on either side of your clit for better access before moving his tongue side-to-side, across the area beneath the clitoral hood, resulting in a broader stimulation that had you stiffening with pure pleasure.

Looking down at the sinful view between your legs, you let out a loud moan as Chrollo met your eyes through his hooded ones. Without a doubt, ecstasy slowly consumed both his body, and mind with how he subtly rocked his hips against the mattress—cock aching for any kind of contact but Chrollo had to focus more on holding your hips down while you unceremoniously thrashed around, trying to slow your impending orgasm.

As Chrollo continued his torture, it didn’t take long for you to let pleasure consume your body as a whole, and cum on his tongue.

He drank in your pleasured state—lips parted, brows furrowed, and back arched off the mattress; the orgasm that hit you was intense, as though your whole body has been electrified, and the only way to respond was by moaning his name like a sacred prayer in hopes you keep you grounded to reality.

Relishing the taste of your essence on his tongue, he closed his eyes, humming against your sensitive nub in complete satisfaction which had your legs shaking, and hands attempting to push his head away. He gave a few more gentle licks before pulling away, revealing his chin completely drenched in your filthy arousal—Chrollo paid no mind, simply bringing a hand up to his face to wipe at it.

You watched through a lustful haze as Chrollo finally worked on his shirt, each button undone growing closer, and closer to exposing the entirety of his torso.

As he shrugged the fabric off, you couldn’t help but reach out to touch his bare skin—it was pale, fascinatingly chiselled, and scarred; Chrollo’s torso was decorated with a few raised, discoloured patches here, and there indicating the rough past he had. He stared as you traced a scar with your forefinger—a ghostly touch that brought a shudder down his spine—but before you could move onto the next one, Chrollo gently grabbed your wrist, and brought it up to his face, placing a chaste kiss on the heart of your palm.

By no means was he insecure about those scars, in fact, he proudly wore them like a badge, to serve as a reminder that the rest of the world wasn’t his friend.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

The kiss from Chrollo was different—different from the one Euan had given you during the company event. Yes, the latter was full of sincerity but it didn’t bring warmth to your face like Chrollo’s one had.

Or maybe it was just because of how lost you were in pure lust, unable to decipher even the simplest feelings.

“Tonight is all about you.”

Chrollo shouldn’t be doing this, it goes against his beliefs, and goals—against the very reason why he turned into the person who he was right now.

Mingling with the wealthy, even going to an extent as to have sex with you, if his younger self saw him right now, he wouldn’t be able to believe it.

But what was it about you that had Chrollo rewriting his rules? Why was he so willing to throw away the deep rooted anger inside his heart to pleasure you?

Moreso, what did he gain from all this?—not money, not power, definitely not the justice he sought.

Nonetheless, Chrollo threw those thoughts in the moonlit window—he’d grab them again later at the crack of dawn while guilt eats him alive. Slowly, he dipped his hands below his torso, fumbling with the zipper of his slacks; Chrollo felt your heated stare on his crotch, how your short breaths quickened as he tantalisingly pulled the metal zip down, the sound echoed along with your breathing, allowing Chrollo to bask in your desperation.

You thanked the stars above as he bared himself without anymore teasing, articles of clothing that once hugged his body were now strewn across the floor of your room like unmended pieces of oneself.

Moonlight surrounded Chrollo like a serene aura, an angelic-like glow that had his skin radiating beneath the celestial gleam, turning his hair into the colour of the first starlight. It was hard to focus on his heavenly appearance when sin was right between his legs.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

No, god, no, just the thought of Chrollo completely leaving you high, and dry brought tears to your eyes. Shaking your head vigorously, he crawled atop your lust-fuelled body before placing a chaste kiss on your temple then onto your nose, trailing further down ‘til he reached the valley of your breasts. You let out a shudder as Chrollo lapped his way down, not forgetting to tease at your pebbled nipples by giving them a light nip.

“Chrollo, please . .” For once, this was different from what was usually thrown his way—most people begged for their lives as they stared down the barrel of his gun with pure horror in their eyes, lips disturbingly quivering as they pleaded during their last moments.

Wasting no time, Chrollo met your gaze once more, his face mere centimetres from yours. You gasped as his cockhead gently prodded at your entrance as he reached down between your bodies, he rubbed it a few more times, the sinful contact earning low grunts, and moans from both of you.

Chrollo connected his forehead with yours, damp obsidian hair ghosting over your warmed cheeks, holding it in a gentle caress

Letting out a shaky breath, his cock slowly pushed your folds apart as he inched in. Immediately, your legs curled around the dip of his bare waist, interlocking behind his lower back; your hasty movement jolted Chrollo forward which forced his cock further into the plush of your velvety walls.

He sighed, cursing the eye rolling pleasure sent his body into a pathetic tremble. Though, you were no better, clenching around Chrollo every time he pushed deeper—not only did it test his sanity but it also tested his patience.

He reminded himself a million times that simply fucking you like a mere cocksleeve was not his intention for tonight. Or ever. Rich or not, you were still a woman after all, one deserving of nothing but genuine pleasure.

As Chrollo bottomed out, he held your starry gaze, watching as your eyes glistened with tears—whether it was from the bliss his cock had you under or from sadness, he had no idea.

You felt so full, as though the gaping void inside you had been magically sealed—his cock sat there unmoving yet it hit all the right spots, the ones that had you trembling a little harder, and moaning a little louder.

Hot breaths mingled as the two of you let out heavy pants, he stilled inside your wet cunt, allowing both himself, and you to adjust to the feeling, “You’re so tight—fuck.” You gave your hips an experimental rut at his words which pulled a long hiss from him, brows furrowing together.

After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo slowly pulled out, the languid drag of his cock against the plush of your walls had you whining in the shape of his name. It went straight to his cock, twitching at the pornographic sound you let out—if you noticed, you didn’t let on, you were too focused on the way he moved inside you.

With only the tip remaining, Chrollo pushed his hips using the same pace; all the way until he disappeared in your folds once again, heavy balls kissing the skin of your ass.

You could feel the entirety of his length—every dip, and curve which had your legs shaking, and toes curling a little harder. Chrollo’s cock was slightly curved upward which allowed an easy reach to your sweet spot, and with every languid thrust he gave you, his cockhead kissed it repeatedly.

Hands that were pinned to the pillows were released as Chrollo brought a hand to caress your cheek while the other supported his weight. You leaned into his fiery touch, as if doing so was going to ground you from cloud nine. 

Setting a deep, slow pace, Chrollo’s face remained a breath away from yours—he kept eye contact, nothing but an endless pit of alluring onyx that pulled you further into the ocean of bliss. Every languid stroke pulled oxygen from your lungs, it had you desperately gasping for air, one which only Chrollo could quench by whispering sweet nothings mere inches from your parted lips.

Mixed with breathless sighs of pleasure was the soft creaking of the bed frame which sung in unison beneath the weight of your rocking bodies. The air grew impossibly thick, and hot allowing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to your bare back but you didn’t care, not when Chrollo fucked you into the mattress as if the sun was going to burn out tomorrow.

You pulled him closer, arms instinctively wrapping around his torso to decorate his back with crimson streaks.

The sharp sting of your nails fuelled Chrollo’s drive—he picked up the pace but remained bottoming out with every powerful thrust, causing your body to jolt in response.

You clung to him tighter, legs painfully locked behind his back as he did his best to move in, and out of your sopping cunt. You were close, and despite Chrollo taking you for the first time, he knew—he could feel your body stiffen with each passing second, the way your greedy cunt grew impossibly tighter, making it hard for him move, and not to mention your broken cries of his name so close to his ears that those were all he could hear.

“I’m so near—god, please don’t stop, Chrollo—!” You sounded so vulnerable, so bare it made his cock twitch.

Greed consuming his pleasured state, Chrollo wrapped an arm around your shoulders, deftly snaking it between the mattress, and your back. He pulled you closer, the weight of your limp torso straining against his curled limb while the other supported his own body.

Chrollo cradled your head with his palm, pushing your face closer to his ‘til the tip of his nose brushed your own. Oh, how tempted he was to kiss the very lips that cried out his name as if he were your saving grace—an angel with his hand stretched out to you.

Barely a whisper above the heavy breaths you exchanged, your name smoothly rolled off his tongue. It was the first time Chrollo did so, and god how addictive it sounded; you shuddered at it, his dulcet voice engulfing the entirety of your being right down to your very core.

“You’ve been so good, are you going to cum? To let go, for me?”

With the minute space left between the two of you, you vigorously nodded your head, too fucked to care about the desperation that seeped from your skin like sweat. Chrollo moaned at your wordless response, fingers slightly curling at the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp,

“Haah—! That’s right, give in to it.”

And you did.

With a final drive of his hips, you came undone—the pressure that’s been slowly building up finally bursting inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips, body arching closer to his as you let your orgasm take you beyond cloud nine.

As if you weren’t already breathless from panting like a whore, Chrollo greedily pressed his lips against your quivering ones to capture them in a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft, and sensual, like it was sculpted by the goddess of love herself. He greedily drank in every moan, and whimper you had to offer, claiming them as his own prized possession to keep. Chrollo’s pace faltered at the feel of your cum coating his cock in a warm embrace—a feeling he’s been deprived off, a feeling he didn’t know he needed.

Pulling away from the kiss, he spoke, breathless, “I’m close—fuck. Where do y—” “Inside.” Chrollo swallowed thickly with your legs tightening around him. It dizzied him, the thought of you so willing to let your insides be marked by him without a second thought.

A small gasp escaped you as he gently set you down onto the mattress, his cockhead brushing your sensitive spot. With his orgasm near, Chrollo dropped his body on top of your own, torsos flush against each other as he trapped you with his weight.

With his own pleasure in mind, Chrollo gave short, hasty thrusts, desperately rutting his hips to chase the growing bliss. The only option for you was to lay there, and moan his name from overstimulation; with his weight on yours, you couldn’t squirm your way out of the immense pleasure.

“I’m here—ngh! ‘M close.” Chrollo whispered into your ear, a hint of apology laced his tone, most likely from how overstimulated you were.

After a few more desperate thrusts, he stilled, sheathing his cock all the way inside your cunt, you felt him twitch before releasing his load with a low moan. 

Feeling his hot cum paint your walls white, you mirrored the sound he made. Loud, wet squelches filled the room as Chrollo rode out his high, effectively fucking his cum deeper.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, letting your bodies bathe in serene moonlight. You laid beneath him, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat pound away against his ribcage, it effectively lulled you to the borders of sleep, your heavy eyelids slowly closing in exhaustion.

Though, before you could fully close them, Chrollo rolled off your body with a soft grunt, his cock slipping out in the process. The loss of contact had you clenching around nothing at the feel of his cum slowly seeping out of your cunt. Before you could speak up, Chrollo beat you to it,

“I should go.” He cleared his throat, voice low, a hint of sadness laced in his tone. Though, you didn’t catch on. Chrollo quietly gathered his clothes, putting them on layer by layer until he was fully clothed. An indiscernible emotion washed over you as he made his way to the door, each quiet step taken tugging at an invisible string tangled in your heart. Oddly enough, it stung.

“Yeah . .” You nodded in a daze.

The lack of response from your end tore at Chrollo’s insides—it made sense, after all, he was nothing but a quick fuck, what did he expect? For you to convince him to stay the night? That was beyond delusional.

As Chrollo reached for the handle, you called his name out of instinct. His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, miss . . ?” He spoke your title in a small voice, unsure which name was appropriate in this situation.

“Thank you.”

That was all you could muster. What else was there anyway? Chrollo wasn’t a person you were supposed to be sleeping with in the first place, nor was he your lover who you could be intimate with after sex.

He was nothing but a bodyguard, and will remain your bodyguard. Whatever happened in this room was to be forgotten.

The sound of the door clicking reached your ears, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. His scent lingered in the air, becoming one with the sweet aroma of chrysanthemums.

Within the next coming days, you were right, and wrong. Right because in the face of others, the professional relationship between you, and Chrollo remained—a bodyguard, and his principal.

Wrong because stupidly enough, the both of you had not forgotten what happened a couple of nights back. The days were filled with stolen glances, and stuttering heartbeats, you couldn’t stand by idly while your heart yearned for your bodyguard.

At first, you convinced yourself that this feeling was purely lust-driven, it was only natural to seek out Chrollo’s presence after a night with him.

You believed it for a week.

One whole week until you felt your heart clenching at the sight of your bodyguard exchanging a conversation with one of the maids. Chrollo was all smiles, the kind that reached his eyes; the maid wasn’t any better, an obvious blush extending from her cheeks to her ears said it all.

He never smiled at you like that.

Why was he treating you—his boss—any different? Chrollo was always nonchalant with you, barely any words spoken yet here he was animatedly cracking jokes left, and right like he had some kind of alter ego. It pissed you off.

More so, being angry at the fact that Chrollo treated you differently upset you even more. At best, this was a trivial matter, something you shouldn’t even think about. 

But you couldn’t let go of it, not when he gazed at you the same way he had done so that night.

Within the next week, you’d realise that merely having Chrollo by your side wasn’t enough.

On Monday, you did your best to converse with him while buying chrysanthemums at the boutique, even going as far as giving him a flower from your bouquet, hoping that he’d think of you whenever he looked at it.

On Wednesday, instead of asking your personal assistant to grab your lunch, you took Chrollo instead, and headed out the office which gave you more alone time with him. 

And by Friday, you couldn’t take it anymore. You called Chrollo into your bedroom late at night after finding the courage to do so. Naturally, he stood inside as if he didn’t have you filling the room with your own moans two weeks ago.

The familiar sweet scent of chrysanthemums filled his lungs, taking him back to the pleasure-filled night with you. Chrollo pushed the thought down, deeming it extremely inappropriate, especially being alone with you like this, again.

He swallowed as you pat the empty spot next to you, your vulnerable state beckoning him to devour you. Who was he to deny himself of acting on his predatory instincts? 

“This is . . rather unprofessional, miss.”

That was the last thing he said before he found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, kissing you like he loved you. Did he? Large hands cupped your jaw, eagerly pulling you closer to his face. Even though Chrollo didn’t bare his heart, the zeal behind his kisses revealed the truth hidden in his chest.

Both lips fell into a unison, slotting into each other like they were made for one another. Before getting carried away, Chrollo pulled back, brows lifting in amusement as he watched the way your face leaned in, searching for his lips.

“What—What about Mr. Euan?” He asked, breathless, onyx strands dishevelled, courtesy of your wandering hands. 

You both knew you didn’t have feelings for Euan but saying it aloud wasn’t going to change the fact that a ring sat on your finger, it was far more complicated than that.

Lowering your gaze, you shrugged. Guilt picked at your skin, the thought of disrespecting Euan had you freezing in place. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying.” Chrollo whispered, hot breath fanning across your face. He tucked a strand behind your ear before sliding his digit down to your chin, lifting your face.

“Kiss me?”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

What the two of you had wasn’t exactly a relationship—beyond a professional relationship but less than a romantic one. But Chrollo cared for you all the same, even if it meant watching in the sidelines as Euan made his polite advances—kiss on your cheek, a hand on the small of your back, his fingers tucking stray hairs aside, Chrollo endured it all. Whether or not it affected him, he didn’t let on.

Instead, he returned affection tenfold in comparison to what Euan gave you. Your room had turned into a rendezvous—every night, behind its closed doors, Chrollo took you in his arms, and whisked you away from reality, from all the inhibitions you felt. And amidst all the meaningful conversations, the shared pleasure, the tears shed, a bond deeper than one could comprehend blossomed within these walls.

Chrollo became a rock you could lean on—a significant person you could be vulnerable with, and bare your heart on the table, unguarded. He listened to your problems, and silly thoughts with open arms, and ears, stroking your hair beneath the moonlight as the two of you lay underneath the ivory sheets.

With you, he was a completely different person, a person who he deserved to become. One that could relate to the little joys in life—whether it be chasing sunsets, dipping salty fries in vanilla ice cream or looking up at the night sky without any remorse in one's heart.

With you, Chrollo had a fleeting glimpse of the life he was robbed of because all he knew was how to survive for another day—how to kill swiftly, and effectively.

And he’d be reminded of all these when returned to his own quarters in the dead of the night. That the sole purpose of his arrangement in this estate was to take you out—not to nurture a bond with you, not to have sex with you, not to listen to all your thoughts, no. Chrollo was here as your assassin.

To hold you so gently in his hands knowing they would be the same ones covered in your blood. It was almost laughable, it surprised Chrollo how he—a person conditioned to destroy—was able to touch you with the utmost gentleness as if he’s never once tasted violence on his tongue.

Clearly, you both felt something for one another but acting on it was easier said than done—not to mention how this mission wasn’t supposed to end up like this, all tangled up in a web known as you. 

Did Chrollo love you? Truth be told, he didn’t know. He never had the privilege of experiencing what romantic love was. Wanting to be by your side was the only thing he was certain of.

Lying in bed, Chrollo looked over at his nightstand, it housed a singular piece of chrysanthemum soaked in a glass of water—one that you had given him earlier this week. Now, his room smelled just like yours, the flower’s sweet aroma lingering in the air.

It helped Chrollo sleep a little better; smelling its familiar scent tricked his mind into thinking he slept in your presence.

A little over a week.

That was how much time Chrollo had left to get the job done assigned by Ciaran. It wasn’t long, and he knew he had to make the decision soon but not before taking a gamble.

As Saturday arrived, you stuck to your routine as usual, the only difference was, the late night was spent driving around with Chrollo.

The atmosphere inside the vehicle grew thicker by the minute, he could tell something weighed your mind from the way you pursed your lips, and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. But of course, the ever polite man he was, he waited ‘til you opened up to him—Chrollo knew you like the back of his hand, whenever things bothered you to an extent, it didn’t take long for you to break.

“Can I tell you something?” You murmured above the hum of the engine. Staring to the side, you watched as Chrollo wordlessly nodded his head, stealing a brief glance your way before focusing on the wheel. He took notice of how you sat on the front passenger seat instead of your usual spot.

Looking out the window, you spoke up, “I . . don’t know how to deal with all this.” Chrollo remained silent, urging you to continue. “I’m going to be married to a man I don’t love, and I’ll be running a company I don’t want. And us. I want you, Chrollo, I really do but I . .”

Chrollo’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“Why don’t we just run away, and leave all this behind? We can build a new life together and—” 

“Is that what you want? To run away with me?” Chrollo cut you off. Coming to a full stop at the red lights, he turned to you, the seriousness in his expression made you somewhat nervous.

Would it be foolish of him to comfort you with words he partially meant?—words that would only hurt you in the end?

“I can give you that.”

At this point, Chrollo was lying to himself. To be so brazen, and accept running away with you knowing well enough his neck was chained to the underground—loyal to his roots.

Weighing the options, it was crystal clear that the odds were against the both of you. Of course, you didn’t know that, you had absolutely no idea Chrollo had underground ties nor was he assigned to kill you by none other than Ciaran.

Considering the latter’s involvement in underground business, you wouldn’t be the only one with a target on their back; it only made sense for Ciaran to put a hit on Chrollo as well for disobeying his orders if he were to consider running away. It would elicit a whole lot of enemies, and he couldn’t put you in a situation where he was willing to risk you dying in someone else’s hands. 

Living a life hiding from dangers of the world—that’s what you would have to go through if you, and Chrollo were to run away. Did you really deserve to live that way? Did you deserve to live in the conditions Chrollo tried to run away from?

The answer was more than obvious.

Obviously, a life with Euan benefitted you more—you’d have more stability, and security. Who was he to take away all those things from you?

Having never tasted something as sweet as this feeling with you, Chrollo found himself holding tighter rather than letting go, he fed on greed, and delusion. 

Truth be told, it tore him apart. A part of him cursed, and yelled at him for being so naïve, and easily moved by a woman he had only known for a month and a half—not to mention how he despised your kind.

The other part urged him to reach for the unthinkable, and build a new life he deserved, with you. Chrollo was ready to lay his weapon down if it meant being by your side ‘til the end of time.

Maybe in another life.

He knew he had to make a decision. Soon. Ciaran had been making calls to his burner more often than not, and he could sense the former’s patience growing thinner, and thinner as each day turned into night.

Whatever Chrollo’s decision was, he just hoped you’d still love him all the same—forgive him.

There was one crucial piece of information Chrollo had remembered. On Sundays, you dismissed all security staff that accompanied you, including the chauffeur, Lukas. This meant that for one day, you were completely unguarded, and alone.

Chrollo was unaware of the reason but it was obvious you wanted to experience a sense of independence one way or another.

Nonetheless, he managed to keep an eye on you by using an ample amount of distance—it was a piece of cake, after all, he tracked his targets in stealth mode for a living; akin to a predator sizing up its prey before sinking its canines.

Sundays weren’t particularly eventful, you spent the day alone running around swiping your credit card left, and right until it made you feel a tad better. So when Chrollo had ‘accidentally’ bumped into you at the parking lot, hidden from public cameras, he was aware of how effortless it was to whisk you away from the public.

“Chrollo? What brings you here?”

The bodyguard was dressed in his usual attire, a white button down neatly tucked beneath his black slacks, and this time, he didn’t wear a blazer.

“I figured you’d be here, miss. Something came up at the estate—you’re needed back home.” A lie.

Chrollo observed as the sparkle in your eyes drained at his words, genuine concern rolling in like grey clouds looming above on a stormy night. His heart clenched. Not in a good way. “Don’t worry, no one is hurt.” With his reassurance, your shoulders dropped with ease, the breath you’ve been holding slipped past your lips in a relieved sigh.

It pained the assassin how trusting you were, how easily one could play you into the palm of their hand the same way he did right now. Why?—why didn’t you question how effortlessly Chrollo pinpointed your exact location? The city was expansive, no normal person would be able to trace your steps unless they followed right from when you left the estate.

The vehicle was quiet, leaving room for Chrollo to notice the faint scent of chrysanthemums inside—it was your personal car, not the one Lukas used to drive you around hence the flowery aroma.

For some odd reason, the smell no longer comforted him the same way it did whenever he frequented your room. It made him nauseous. If Chrollo was to put it in words, the aroma smelled of sweet death, and it reminded him of the church back in Meteor City.

Consumed by concern, and lost in your own thoughts, you paid no attention to your surroundings outside, how it grew less, and less familiar with each kilometre driven by your bodyguard. You also didn’t notice Chrollo repeatedly stealing glances through the rearview mirror every now, and then, missing the way his steely gaze housed a hint of nervousness—an emotion he didn’t normally harbour.

Though, as you finally came to, you gazed out the window, eyes carefully scanning the fleeting hues outside as the car drove by. Soft colours of pinks, and oranges seeped through the glass which casted an ethereal glow inside, it hinted at the setting sun, and the darkness that loomed just around the corner. As your brain registered the foreign roads, confusion settled in, 

“Are we taking a detour, Chrollo?”

He wordlessly nodded. You mirrored his action in acknowledgement but the feeling of unease was oddly difficult to dismiss, especially with how deserted these roads were. The streets were decorated with construction sites, abandoned buildings, and old houses that were decorated with wooden planks to seal off windows, and entrances.

A weird feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You caught the way Chrollo’s stone cold gaze locked with yours for a split second but didn’t dare speak up.

Just as your heart started to race, the vehicle came to a halt, Chrollo had parked in front of an abandoned building—an old church, based on its architecture. Its unmistakable pointed roof aiming at the skies above, and stained glass windows marked with angels, and other holy beings said it all.

The building was surrounded by overgrown greenery, and wrecked furniture dumped on the side which hinted at years of apparent neglect. Its dressed stone walls were the epitome of sacrilege itself, littered with colourful vandalism from top to bottom; even just seeing it with your own eyes felt like a grave sin. A forbidden image.

“What—” “Get out.” Chrollo cut you off. For a tone so cold you could’ve swore a subtle shudder ran down the length of your spine. His stare met your own through the mirror for a second time and your heart sank all the way down to your stomach at how serious he was, dread slowly engulfing your body. What the hell was happening!? Why was Chrollo acting strangely?

“No.”

Chrollo turned to face you, still wearing that stoic expression. You felt small under his gaze, it almost felt predatory—no—not almost, it did; you didn’t want to admit but you caught a glimpse of the way his eyes sparkled with sharp, murderous intent.

Swallowing thickly, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant, albeit, it was more for yourself than for the man before you.

“Not until I get an answer. You mentioned something had come up at the estate, so why aren’t we—” “I lied.”

Before you could question his motives, Chrollo swiftly got out, the resounding thud as he shut the door closed had your body flinching a bit. You watched as he rounded the car, and made his way just before your door.

Opening it, a hand reached in for your wrist; gentle fingers curled around your skin as if you were a delicate flower—a daring contrast from the way his piercing gaze stabbed shards of unease throughout your body.

You pulled away, easily slipping off Chrollo’s placid grasp before helping yourself out of the vehicle. His hand curled into a loose fist as he watched you exit the car with an evident scowl on your face; funnily enough, Chrollo had the audacity to feel upset at the rejection. Never once have you denied his touch.

Crossing the narrow clearing that led to the unsealed church entrance, chunks of loose stone, and dirt moved beneath your steps; you stared at your feet as they navigated through the unstable terrain.

It was odd. Calm, and composed were the last two things you should be feeling in this situation, given the sudden shift in Chrollo’s demeanour, you were supposed to be fearing for your life right this instance despite your blindness to the hidden danger that lay ahead.

Chrollo . . He would never do that to you, right? Upon taking the job, he swore to protect you. But your better judgement screamed at all the glaring crimson coloured flags—an abandoned church in a deserted neighbourhood? It was the perfect set up for heinous crimes.

Out of instinct, you scanned the layout of the building from where you stood, if it came down to it, there was only one viable escape route which was through the main entrance of the church, the one Chrollo pulled open.

By now, the sun had fully disappeared below the horizon, and the colourful remnants the burning star left in its wake slowly faded into deep hues of night azure. Strangely, this end of the town harboured harsher winds with a freezing bite that had you rubbing your arms over the sleeves of your top.

A heavy groan sounded from the mahogany doors, it cut through the wind’s endless howl as it danced with the leaves, and through the sharp branches, interlocking trees in a soft sway.

A chill ran down your spine at the loudness of it. The doors parted revealing a view you’d expect in an old abandoned church—disorganised pews to create a spacing in the middle, antique chandeliers affixed to the high ceiling covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs, and trash scattered across its marbled floors; by the state of the inside, squatters most likely frequented the building due to its unsealed entrance.

The inside was dimly lit from street lights outside, it poured through the stained glass windows which allowed a deep scarlet glow to illuminate the building. Chrollo stepped inside, the soles of his obsidian dress shoes quietly clicked with every calculated step further into the church.

Foolishly enough, you followed as though a crimson string bound yourself to his—he was acting strangely, and the most appropriate approach as of now was to question his behaviour, and the bizarreness of the situation. Walking away would only prove useless with how far he has driven, and he had your car keys; at best, you could only cooperate.

“Chrollo, will you please tell me what’s going on?” You navigated inside the old building, the scent of mildew, and rotten wood lingered in the damp air, it captured your senses in a tight hold.

Ruby bounced off Chrollo’s inky strands as he stood at the heart of the church, right beneath the stained windows with divine beings. It turned his pale skin into an angry red, and you wondered if that’s what he felt right this very moment, clearly you weren’t far off with how he pierced your soul earlier.

He turned to face you, “I’m doing this for your sake.” For the first time today, emotion seeped through the cracks of his nonchalance. 

Chrollo looked almost sad, you weren’t entirely sure given the lack of lighting but the unmistakable glint behind those obsidian eyes was anything but foreign. For a split second, it was the same Chrollo that spent countless nights in your bedroom; not as your bodyguard, not as anyone else but simply as Chrollo—your Chrollo.

“For my sake? What the hell are you talking about, Chrollo?” Like the vermillion glow that bounced off your skin as you stepped closer, anger slowly bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Chrollo was nothing but cryptic with his responses, and you couldn’t wrap your head around any of them! He had always been a straightforward person, sometimes blunt, so why was he holding back now?

Standing beneath the scarlet light softly illuminated your features, Chrollo thought you looked exquisite bathed in the brilliance of red. Even with a tinge of doubt, and anger in your eyes, you were filled with love the same way the colour kissed every part of your skin.

“An escape from all this . . That’s what you want, right?” With his right hand, Chrollo reached inside his pocket, it took you a few seconds to identify the item in his hand—a gun.

With the way it’s unmistakable silver glistened beneath the dim lighting, you could tell it was a weapon of his own; not the ones registered under your father’s name. You stiffened, and your body ran cold, gaze met with the barrel of his gun.

“Chrollo?” Barely a whisper, you called out his name above the thick atmosphere, each second spent inside it had you desperately gasping for air; whether it be from nervousness or confusion, you didn’t care to find out.

He swallowed thickly, fingers curling tighter around the handle of his gun, trying to ignore the way your desperate plea violently struck a chord in his heart.

“Chrollo please put the gun down! You’re out of your mind!” Panic surged from head to toe, it came in vicious waves, scratching, and gnawing at your bare skin like a vehement beast. Chrollo tried to ignore the apparent tremble in your voice, he couldn’t afford to mess this up.

“Yes, I want to escape—with you. Why are you doing this to me, Chrollo? Why do you want me dead?!”

The third time his name rolled off your tongue, he was ready to throw the gun across the room, and cradle you in his arms while whispering apologetic nothings in your ear.

But he didn’t.

Chrollo stayed rooted in his spot, gun aimed at you, “Remember Ciaran Driscoll?—” You furrowed your brows. Ciaran? “He paid me to kill you.” A shaky breath, that was all you could muster, your mind was too busy trying to piece everything together.

Ciaran. Chrollo. Kill. Your blood ran cold.

But Chrollo didn’t give you time to breathe, steady clicks of his shoes echoed throughout the church as he paced back, and forth, “I was elated when I agreed to his proposal. Why? Because a pompous soul dying by my hands is what I’m made for—” He was calm, and collected, a faint smile displayed on his face as he slowly walked towards you. “Did you know what your people did? To my home? To my friend?” Stopping just before you, Chrollo leaned in, obsidian gaze piercing right through you.

“A lot of you treated Meteor City like some kind of hunting ground at your disposal. As if—as if its inhabitants were nothing but mere animals. For what? The sake of illegal dealings? For more money? Power?”

Chrollo caressed the side of your face with the back of his left hand—the other remained motionless by his side—his ghostly touch trembled against your skin, afraid that if he pressed down any further, you’d crack.

The situation baffled you. Not only was Chrollo blaming you for the atrocities caused by other people, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he was in cahoots with Ciaran Driscoll to orchestrate your demise.

Is that why Chrollo applied to become your bodyguard? To get close before finally killing you off? You felt another wave of dread wash over you. Everything felt numb, your limbs, your torso, your heart.

Shaking your head, you finally broke the silence with a trembling voice, tears threatening to spill out,  “I’m not involved in any of those, Chrollo. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

He did. God. He fucking did and he felt absolutely foolish for blaming you. After you had bared your soul to him every night, Chrollo stopped seeing you in the same light as he did before. Yes, his deep-rooted disdain never left but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of loving you; it was a battle between desire and duty, and he already knew the victor.

The determination in your eyes, you were set on running away from the current life you had, and as tempting as that was, he didn’t have the courage to lead you into a new life full of nothing but danger.

Chrollo would rather have you dying by his own bloodied hands—for him to live each day filled with regret—than have someone else basking in the glory of killing you. At least that way, he’d be tainted by you.

“You’re all the same. Ciaran’s father is proof enough! You said it yourself that he was involved in illegal business—”

“So those nights we spent together . . were they just all part of the act? You never cared for me.” Chrollo barely caught the last part of your sentence as you muttered it under your breath; he watched as your gaze lowered, a wave of sadness engulfing you for a split second before finding his eyes once again. This time, you wore a glare.

You straightened up, “Tell me, Chrollo. Was it all just an act? A show you put on just to get close to me?” Questions lingered in the air the same way dust did, it sat heavy on Chrollo’s shoulders but he remained stubborn—silent. Would his answer change the circumstances? No.

After all, nothing good came out of trivial matters. At his stillness, you grabbed his right hand, trembling fingers curling around the shaft of his wrist as you brought it up to your face, pressing the barrel of his gun to your forehead. It felt icy against your feverish skin, like the kiss of a grim reaper.

Ever so slightly, Chrollo’s brows rose in shock, breath hitching at your brazenness. “Did you ever love me?” A broken whisper spoken into the crimson-lit night, so dainty, so weak yet it pierced his heart without a second thought. It left a gaping hole, as ugly as sin, and no amount of repentance could heal.

Love. How would one define love? Was it the act of sacrificing someone dear to oneself? Chrollo didn’t know. But more importantly, how did you define love?

“Did you?”

Digging deeper into the subject would only lead to the grave of his heart but Chrollo couldn’t care less, it was already six feet under since the day he sought revenge for his friend.

With a heavy sigh, your eyes finally softened, “Of course. I still do.” You felt his hand twitch in your hold, as if he briefly tried to pull the gun away.

Glimmering like the first starlight were tears staining your cheeks, one by one they fell down as a surge of emotions drowned your body; your brows were furrowed yet your eyes looked at Chrollo like he held the cosmos in his hands.

Is this what was meant when they said love and anger were painted in the same shade of red?

In his line of work, Chrollo has never seen anything as haunting as your gaze. It was natural for his targets to look up at him in complete horror, tears welled up in their eyes as they begged him to spare their lives but you—your eyes were full of nothing but love, and adoration despite his gun pointed at you. That look alone was enough to torment his coming days.

“Do you, Chrollo? Do you love me?” His chest tightened at the hopeful glint in your eye. Nothing good ever came out of trivial matters because at the end of the day, Chrollo was nothing but a man chained to his sinful revenge—blindly devoted to the hatred planted in his heart, and it came with a great price.

A sudden wave of red washed over his body, resulting in an ear splitting bang that resounded within the church’s bricked walls. Chrollo flinched at the sound—he’s never done that before—followed by a heavy thud against the marbled floors. It took the assassin one, two, three seconds to register the situation, the violent sensation of the gun’s recoil still fresh on his trembling hand.

The faint scent of iron hung in the air.

Chrollo looked down at the grisly sight before him, gun in his hand weighing heavy before it finally slipped from his absent grip. The weapon fell beside his right foot.

For the first time, Chrollo Lucilfer—the bringer of death—weeped, and mourned the demise of his target. He wailed into the darkness as warm crimson slowly pooled around your head, it resembled a faux halo, a tainted fallen angel.

Broken sobs, and ugly cries filled the damp building—this was the first in a long time that he had heard the sounds of his own grief. Guilt, and sorrow consumed Chrollo the same way the shadows of the night did but no amount of tears would bring you back to life, no amount of whispered I love you’s would reciprocate his words, no amount of cracks in his heart would turn back time.

You were dead, and it was all because of the man you loved so blindly. ‘Til your dying breath, you were shielded from the secrets of his true identity, and feelings, ones he swore he would take to the very grave he dug.

Chrollo fell to his knees, his fingers dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The vile pungence of your blood suffocated his senses, despite something so familiar to him, Chrollo heaved and curled over himself, quivering like an autumn leaf in the wind—he looked pathetic; hot tears and snot covered his reddened face as he cried out into darkness.

Every bit of air left his lungs and each breath felt like a chase he couldn’t win. Truth be told, he didn’t have the courage to reach out to your body, no, he didn’t feel like he deserved to do so.

To taint you more than he already had. So, Chrollo didn’t, instead, he weeped until the moon decorated the obsidian skies, until his tears tried, until your body ran cold, and every bit of colour you wore was gone. 

And when the assassin finally pieced himself together, he did three things.

One, let Ciaran Driscoll know that the job had been done using a burner phone.

Two, with the same device, Chrollo called the police, brazenly letting them know he murdered someone, and the exact location of the crime scene.

Three, he covered your car in flames, and fed the burner phone into it; he watched as bright hues of oranges and yellows devoured the vehicle before doing what he did best: disappearing into the night, and becoming one with the shadows to never be found again.

The night before, he had quietly handed in his resignation to Lukas who gave him an appreciative pat on the back, the old timer parted with words that Chrollo knew would remain ingrained in his mind, ‘I’m quite sure the young miss appreciated your service. Thank you for taking care of her.’ 

His heart shouldn’t have clenched at that but it did, and painfully so.

The coming days blended into nights with Chrollo sitting inside his hideout—a dingy, rundown motel with paper thin walls that housed interesting individuals. Completely unaware of the time, his only company was the ticking ivory wall clock above the cramped dining space.

The hefty payment from Ciaran lay untouched on the bed, concealed within a briefcase. He didn’t eat nor drink, not even having the energy to step outside for occasional sunlight, and every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the look you gave him during your final moments, he remembered the metallic tang in the air.

The old chunky television situated atop a rusty console table was what kept Chrollo’s sanity intact.

Day to night, it blasted morning, afternoon, and evening news—to the point of fellow motel goers knocking at his door to complain about the noise—just to keep up with information about you. As much as Chrollo yearned to bask in the memory of you, seeing your face plastered on television followed by a variety of words such as ‘rest in peace’, ‘murdered’, ‘assassinated’, and ‘dead’ didn’t help his mind at all.

At least what kept him entertained were the updates on potential suspects that may be tied to the crime scene; the murder weapon was an unregistered gun loaded with an unregistered bullet, and the footprints left at the scene had no unique tread.

So at best, there were no concrete leads in the case.

Not that it mattered to Chrollo.

Atop the cheap wooden table on which he sat were two things, the murder weapon and a singular stem of a white chrysanthemum. The one you had given him from your bouquet. Chrollo let the flower sit there for days on end until its ivory petals shrivelled into a brown hue—its sweet aroma turning pungent.

Until it withered. 

Until the scent of death choked him the same way his cries did that night—a mockery of what was lost, of what he willingly destroyed.

One month. It took Chrollo a month to finally step into the day, and out of the drab motel room. Brightness engulfed his vision, the sun’s afternoon rays shone as brightly as ever, enveloping him in a warm, gentle hug as if to welcome him back to reality.

He was certain he didn’t deserve kindness from this world, not even the permission to step foot in the very earth that held your body dearly in its grasp as though you were its prized possession.

Oddly enough, Chrollo found himself standing before a familiar flower boutique. With his gaze locked onto the floor-to-ceiling windows, he looked around the inside, as if doing so was going to have you magically pop out of nowhere, and buy a dozen of white chrysanthemums like before.

But you didn’t.

Pulled from his thoughts, a recognizable voice filled his ears, it was the owner, “Are you here to buy flowers for a lover, perhaps? I can recommend a few—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, realising the familiar face that stood before her. Chrollo watched as her face morphed into a sad smile, the cheery glint in her eyes disappearing beneath the thickness of her lashes,

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re her bodyguard, right?” He inhaled a sharp breath at the mention of you, heart violently thumping against the confines of his chest. Chrollo could only nod, anything more than that would have him breaking.

The old lady reached out her plump hand, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I’m so sorry for your loss. She was lovely—”

Don’t say that. Don’t say it to me like I’m not the cause of her death. Don’t say it to me like I should be mourning for someone who died by my hands.

Chrollo gritted his teeth, jaw clenching at the sympathy thrown his way. He felt sick and disgusted with himself—as if he were a vile being trapped beneath human skin. All of a sudden the sun rays that gently enveloped his body didn’t feel like a warm hug anymore, sharp, hot prickles spread throughout his clothed skin, leaving a painful itch.

“—and the only customer who bought chrysanthemums frequently. Others usually bought the flowers once or twice for funerals and death anniversaries; she was the only one who truly saw chrysanthemums in a different light.”

A symbol of devoted love and loyalty, that’s how you saw them.

How ironic that the flowers you once adored would be laid upon your grave, holding a completely different message; mourning and grief. That didn’t sit well with Chrollo, you loved white chrysanthemums but not for that reason.

“Apologies, I ramble too much.” The owner let out a polite chuckle before continuing. “Well, can I at least interest you in some flowers? What would it be for you?”

“Can I get a dozen of those?” Chrollo pointed at the lively bunch soaked in water, situated just beside the boutique’s entrance. Following his finger, she looked behind her and smiled, “Right away.”

Its petals resembled rays of the first sunshine, the golden hue it wore promised eternal warmth even after death.

As day turned into night with the crescent moon high above the obsidian skies, Chrollo made his way to your perpetual resting place—it didn’t take much effort to do some digging around to find out where your body had been buried.

The chilly wind howled as it danced with the dark, trees and leaves swaying to accompany it with a silent song. He walked down the moonlit path of the cemetery, land that outstretched before him was decorated with tombstones, and in his left hand was the bouquet he bought earlier.

Moonlight shone over your grave as if the moon herself knew the secrets shared between you and Chrollo on cloudless nights. Bouquets of white chrysanthemums decorated the space around your grave, candles that were once lit rested atop the marbled tombstone that housed your full name.

Oddly enough, this felt like déjà vu. Maybe it was due to the fact that you and Chrollo rendezvoused in your room the same way he visited your grave—under a lonely moonlit night where soft whispers, and beating hearts were heard.

Bending down, Chrollo lightly caressed your carved name, cleaning out stray pieces of grass and dirt blown by the wind. He gently placed the bouquet amongst the sea of white, its colourful hue greedily taking all the limelight from the sombre flowers,

“I know these aren’t your favourite but I figured you’d like them too . .” He paused for a moment, foolishly waiting for you to reply.

“. . Yellow chrysanthemums just like the white ones but—” Who was he kidding? Chrollo felt stupid. Talking to your grave as if you were alive—as if he wasn’t the one who brought you to your demise.

The audacity he had.

Truth be told, every fibre inside his body screamed at him to turn back, and never show his disgusting self but Chrollo was as greedy as the darkness that drank the moonlight each night.

He envied the ground like sin, how held you in its arms, cradling your rotting body in its eternal embrace. It should be him. Now, he’d have to remember you longer than he had known you.

Instead, Chrollo was six feet above—alive; tied to, and haunted by the shackles of foolish regret. The memory of that night replayed in his mind over and over again like a cursed broken record, the disgusting thump as your lifeless body hit the floor, blood pooling around your head.

Most nights he’d find himself calling your name in his sleep—he always dreamt of the same dream: you, running away from him in a field of flowers, no matter how hard he worked his legs, he never seemed to reach your body. 

Chrollo sat before your grave and sobbed, letting creatures of the night feel his vulnerability; as the wind howled, the breeze carried the sounds of his cries to the trees, where it promised him to keep it a secret—a story only reserved for the dead.

Hot tears rolled down his frost-bitten cheeks, pooling on the tip of his chin before it fell on the damp grass beneath.

In antique texts, yellow chrysanthemums represented one’s heart left to desolation. Neglected love. It was only befitting for he has killed the very person who grew to love his blood-stained soul because in the end, he was nothing but a man only adept at destroying.

He let out shaky exhale, and whispered into the night the answer you sought, 

“I love you.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[vulpisnocturna]

Hi im so glad you’re back! can I request chrollo x reader overstimulation?

You certainly can, and I will absolutely comply! 😩 there is a shortage of Chrollo smut and I am here to serve 🫣

Masterlist

NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: overstimulation, dirty talk, dom Chrollo, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink

Word count: 2.9k

Pale fingers ghosted the skin of your arms, up and down, teasing and exploratory, and you could practically taste the smug smirk that adorned his well-defined lips, which brushed against your jaw and the column of your throat. You shivered as he breathed in the scent of your perfume mingled with the natural smell of your skin, and he let out a soft sigh.

‘Relax for me, mh? You are so tense… do I make you nervous? Does your blood rush to your stomach? Is your breath shallow and uneven? Do your legs feel weak? Is your heart hammering in your throat? Is your lower stomach so very tight and hot, my little darling? Your skin is pebbled with goosebumps, and you are shivering so much…’ he murmured against your ear, his voice a little raspy, husky and suggestive, warming you up like a bottle of vodka thrown into a fireplace. You swallowed as Chrollo’s lips trailed back to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, kissing gently, languidly.

‘I crave you’ his voice was sin itself as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, and his fingers curled around your hips possessively, greedily, squeezing over the fabric of your skirt. You bit down on your lower lip, your eyelids fluttering close. His bangs tickled your cheek, and his lips pressed against your jaw, your neck, his tongue licking the column of your throat erotically.

You let out a soft, breathy moan, which earned you a pull against his body and his teeth nibbling and pulling gently at your skin.

‘Chrollo…’ you breathed. He stroked your hair, grabbing it and pulling it slightly, exposing your sensitive neck to his greedy lips.

He smiled down at you, his dove grey eyes drinking in your expression like it was liquid gold.

‘I like that look on your face. Such a needy girl’ he purred, voice barely above a whisper, and before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, hands flat above your head, his mouth ravaging yours. Your mind went haywire, and you moaned against his lips. Chrollo’s cologne filled your nostrils, his body pressed against yours, his tongue traced your bottom lip and his teeth tormented it. That was the thing about someone like Chrollo. Calm, controlled people like him usually needed an outlet. That outlet happened to be you.

He gripped and kneaded your ass with his free hand, his tongue caressing yours with a passion that pierced through you. Calm people like Chrollo could become a blazing inferno of passion in the blink of an eye.

His hand trailed up to your throat, fingers pressing on the sides, reducing the blood flow to your head, making you dizzy. You let his feral passion consume and ignite you, stoking the lust and longing inside you until nothing was on your mind except him.

‘I can feel your heart thumping against my fingers. Darling… you look so helpless. So desperate. But I can make you even more desperate. And I think I have a craving that begs to be satisfied’ he said in a low, raspy voice, one that was rich and reverberated in your ears. He picked you up and tossed you on the bed, making quick work of tearing your clothes off you, his gaze dark and filled with hunger and possessiveness. You moaned and arched your back as Chrollo’s tongue traced your nipple and his fingers pinched the other one, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. His hand trailed to your thigh, and he squeezed and dug his fingers in the soft flesh, groaning against your nipple as he sucked it eagerly. You squirmed and let out a shameful mewl, which seemed to delight him to no end, because he chuckled and sucked a possessive love bite on the swell of your breasts.

Your fingers tangled in his raven hair, tugging and pulling, but Chrollo did not mind when you got a little rough. In fact, he loved every second of it. Chrollo was an eager lover, a greedy one that preyed and feasted on desperation. He sought to drain every drop of ecstasy you had to give, and his satisfaction was derived from your pleading and knowing he was the one driving you to the brink of insanity.

Chrollo’s fingers reached their destination fairly quickly, driven by his intense desire, but you were already sopping wet. He chuckled, giving you a grin that was a mixture between a boyish smile and the taunting smirk of a fallen angel.

‘Oh dear, it seems my little darling is quite desperate already. You are so wet for me’ he crooned, the pads of his fingers tracing patterns on your sensitive skin. Your breath faltered, and you whimpered, your hips twitching, your cheeks warming up at the taunting remark.

‘Chrollo- stop teasing’ you breathed, though his teasing was arousing too. He let out a soft scoff.

‘Why would I do that? It is so easy to rile you up. So easy… to make you weak with desire. And I love it’ he said, his tongue dipping to lick your ribcage as his middle finger started tracing torturous circles around your puffy clit that had you moaning and writhing. He pushed your hips down with a hand and pinned your legs with his body.

‘Ah- ah, ah. I am not finished with you yet. You’ll take what I give you, like a good girl’ he said in his rich, mellow voice, going back to tongue and toy with your nipples. You moaned more, helplessly trying to move against his fingers, be it towards him or away from him. You weren’t too sure.

Your hands cradled his head, and he smiled, dipping two fingers inside you and curling them in a blissful motion. You arched your back, letting a sinful moan pour out of your lips.

‘That’s it, that’s my good girl. Keep moaning for me, darling’ he praised, his voice hot and thick with desire as he started moving his fingers in and out, skilfully rubbing all the right places. You moaned, dragging him back up for a heated kiss that left you breathless. He kept going, kissing your neck and sucking on it harshly.

‘I am going to mark your skin, so everyone knows you are mine. Mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to tease. Mine to kiss. Mine to pleasure. Mine to keep’ he groaned against your ear, and you squirmed, the movement of your hips against his fingers getting increasingly more eager.

‘Ch-Chrollo… oh God-‘ you moaned, and he smirked, looking at your face, self-satisfaction written plainly on his features. His fingers worked faster and deeper, making your mouth fall open in a gasp as the coil in your lower stomach wound tighter and tighter and more intense, until you were clinging to him and kissing him sloppily as you came with a breathy moan.

Chrollo gave a satisfied groan and started kissing your neck again, teeth nipping at your collarbones, hands soothing and massaging your thighs, his mouth trailing down your torso. You squirmed when he spread your legs and started kissing your thighs, your face hot, your breath short from your recent orgasm.

‘Chrollo, wait… still sensitive’ you muttered. He gave a low, soft laugh against the skin of your inner thigh, before biting and sucking it, pinning you down when you tried to scoot away a little.

‘My poor little darling. She is so very sensitive’ he crooned, and pinned one of your thighs to the bed, flinging the other on his shoulder and blowing cold air on your clit. You let out an undignified whimper, which he promptly ignored to drag the flat of his tongue on your labia from bottom to top, tensing the tip of his tongue up as he reached your clit to flick it. You let out a loud moan, your fingers disappearing in the inky strands of his hair, and Chrollo groaned, fingers digging in the pliable flesh of your thighs as though he loathed to give you the space to squirm away from his face. His tongue twirled around your clit, pressing against it, uncaring of your whining and desperate strangled moans. His fingers glided to your cunt too, slowly pushing inside you, and he curled them, sucking on your clit at the same time. Your body twitched, and you cried out, writhing underneath him as the pain and pleasure mingled in an addictive mix. You were soon reduced to a panting, moaning mess, your hips rolling against his face and attempting to pull away from it at the same time, your chest heaving, your eyes closed as he continued to pleasure and torment you like his life depended on it.

He pulled back a little to give a smouldering, indulgent look, seeming to revel in the way your body begged him to continue even more than your voice did. He then got back down, increasing the intensity even more, sucking, flicking, curling, licking and spitting on your clit, leaving you no time nor chance to form coherent thoughts as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, one that felt almost mind-numbing. He pulled back as your aftershocks quelled down, and smirked at you, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean. You were a heap of limbs strewn on the bed, unable to move, your eyes half-lidded, your swollen lips parted, your body reduced to a ragdoll.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face in a sudden tender gesture.

You watched him as he took his clothes off, tossing his shirt on the floor, revealing his toned arms, lean figure and pale, smooth skin. His trousers and boxers came off next, and his fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking it a few times as he looked at you before he lowered himself above you and started rubbing it along your wet labia. You let out a little whimper, and he groaned in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your earlobe and kissing your throat.

He pushed himself inside you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, driving himself inside you until the tip of his shaft was kissing your cervix. Your body arched, your nails raking across his smooth shoulder blades, your voice coming out in a loud, whorish moan at the feeling of fullness and warmth that pooled in your core. Chrollo moaned softly, his head thrown back to the ceiling, his fingers gripping your thigh and hip.

‘Ahh… you take me so well. So tight and wet for me’ he breathed in a thick, husky voice, his hand trailing down to your ass as you hooked your legs around his slim hips. You clung to him, a litany of whimpering, whining sounds leaving your lips as Chrollo started snapping his hips against you, the upward tilt of his cock making you cry with ecstasy and desperation. Your hips rolled against his, the pleasure soon overcoming the pain and sensitivity from your recent orgasm. He groaned, getting rougher and rougher by the minute, his grey eyes, usually so calm and detached, filled with animalistic desires and a feral, possessive thirst for pleasure and control. Chrollo grunted, spreading your legs and locking them apart and bent in the air with his elbows on the inside of your knees. You cried out, your head thrashing side to side as he started to trace circles around your clit with his middle finger, pinning you in place as he watched the scene with decadent, predatory lust, his eyes darting from the apex of your thighs to your face. You whined, tossing your head side to side and trying to push your legs back together.

‘Ahh! Too much~ too much-‘ you cried out, writhing and trembling, still struggling to close your legs. It felt too intense like this, like the pressure would make you explode, like there were hot pincers in your gut.

‘Mmm~ don’t you dare move, my little darling. You’re going to take all of me, and you are going to cum for me, aren’t you? Like a good little girl should’ he breathed, his voice rough and erotic.

‘Chrollo- I can’t- too much- I need…’ you moaned incoherently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as Chrollo gave deep, rhythmic thrusts that pressed right against that sweet spot inside you that made you tremble and scream.

‘You can, you’re doing so well. Keep moaning and cum for me, sweetheart. I just want one more. One more for me’ he said, whilst you made desperate noises as the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

‘Ahh! Please!’ you cried out, not even sure what the hell you were asking for. Was it release? Was it mercy? Was it more pleasure?

‘That’s it, there’s a good little girl… don’t you dare move an inch, my love. You are going to cum for me, or I will make you endure this for hours until you do’ he said, his voice raspy, his finger still circling your clit, his hips slamming against you, his face contorted in pleasure, satisfaction and pure, unadulterated lust.

‘Yes- yes! Chrollo- fuck… I need- I can’t…’ you screamed, your whole body shivering, your hips jerking, you cunt squeezing and throbbing around him. He let out a strangled, blissful moan as you pulsed and clamped around him with your intense climax, which left your ears ringing, your legs shaking and your vision flashing for a few seconds. He growled, gripping your legs and moving relentlessly, showing no signs or intentions of stopping or slowing down.

‘Chrollo!’ you whined, squirming and trying to get away, your overstimulated clit aching. Every sensation was more intense and overwhelming than the last, until all your nerve endings felt on fire.

‘Louder! Say my name louder’ he demanded, his eyes darkening with untamed hunger.

‘Chrollo, please!’ you cried out, tears brimming in the corners of your half-lidded eyes, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your body rocking back and forth underneath him.

‘Good girl’ he muttered, and leaned over your ear, ‘your body belongs to me. Understood? You… are mine’

You nodded frantically, pitifully, lost in the throes of passion and his control. Chrollo grinned, starting to lose his cool, becoming more and more intense the closer he got to his own climax.

‘Say it, sweetheart’ he instructed, his voice gruff. You whined.

‘’m yours, Chrollo’ you moaned. Chrollo smiled slightly, pleasure and satisfaction etched on his face.

‘That’s my good little slut’ he crooned, and your teeth sank in your bottom lip as he continued to pound you into the mattress. The knot in your stomach was there once again, despite not believing you were even capable of having another orgasm, it looked as though Chrollo was determined to push you further, to make you lose yourself in his arms. And you were. Your mind was empty, your body was ablaze with desire and pleasure, your eyes were bleary and fucked out.

‘Beg me to cum inside you. Beg me for it’ he said harshly, voice low and demanding. You could hardly even think with the intensity of the sensations travelling through your body.

‘Oh? Is my pretty little slut too fucked out to answer me? Would you like me to stop, then? Should I leave you like this?’ he taunted, thrusting roughly and deeply inside you, pounding against your cervix. You let out a loud, desperate scream.

‘No! Please, Chrollo- Cum inside me, please- please don’t stop…’ you pleaded, and he looked as though your words had sent him spiralling into a maelstrom of passion, satisfaction, pleasure and predatory lust.

‘Such a desperate, needy girl. Such a good girl’ he purred, his pale skin glowing with a silver gleam in the moonlight streaming from the window, his dark eyebrows furrowed, grey eyes narrowed.

You sobbed, writhing, the hot, tight pressure in your lower stomach becoming so strong you couldn’t think, couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but feel. You clamped and throbbed around him, and Chrollo let out a curse, becoming almost feral.

‘Yes, yes! That’s it. Fuck, that feels so… so tight- so good. Good girl. Cum for me. You can do it… oh God- I’m close’ he groaned, and you tossed your head side to side, your whole body trembling and shivering in his grasp, your vision blurring, tears staining your temples as a white-hot, mind-numbing orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave, making your whole body tense up. Chrollo moaned against the skin of your throat, biting down harsher than he probably meant to, his hips stuttering as he came inside you, your name a prayer of passion and reverence on his lips.

He swallowed, slumping on top of you, releasing the tight, bruising hold on your legs and catching his breath. Your own breath was laboured and shallow, your skin feverish, your eyes closed as you basked in the afterglow of one of the most intense experiences of your life.

Chrollo rolled over to your side after a minute or two, drawing patterns on your ribcage. He gave you a boyish smile, a rare sight of unadulterated warmth in his grey eyes.

‘You are incredible’ he murmured, planting a kiss on your shoulder. He cradled you in his arms, soothing you with his fingers grazing your spine.

‘You are mine and I am yours’ you murmured, nuzzling his chest. He sighed in contentment, repeating the phrase to you, like your own personal “I love you”.

[artemisdeluna]

“Hello! I was just walking by and noticed you here.”

You had just left your last job, wandering the streets looking for a place to rest when you spotted a cozy coffee and pastry shop on the side of the road. You stopped in, ordered a coffee, and were currently sitting outside enjoying the beautiful day when the man walked up to you. You had seen this man where you had been, following you with his eyes around the gardens, but didn’t think anything of it at the time. A lot of others were also taking in their surroundings. He wore a simple white button down shirt and black pants, also his head was covered. He smiled.

“Oh yes! Hello! I remember seeing you around at the estate,” you reply. “Chrollo, was it?”

“Yes,” he says, looking down at the table in front of you.

“You’re drinking coffee? Would you mind if I joined you?” he was asking you but already began to scoot the second chair at the table closer to where you were seated.

“Sure, I don’t mind the company.”

The barista came out to greet him and the man proceeds to order a cup of coffee, black.

The two of you sit in silence and enjoy the view of the park in front of the shop.

“Are you drinking yours with milk?” he asks after taking a sip of his hot cup of coffee when it wqs served to him.

“Yes, it has milk and honey in it, my favorite way to have my coffee,” you smile back at him, and place your lips on your coffee cup for a sip. He watches this gesture closely.

“I never tried honey with my coffee. Do you mind if I taste yours?” he starts leaning into you while you’re cupping your mug in both hands.

You’re caught off guard a bit. “Oh okay, sure! It’s delicious,” you hand him your cup. He grabs it from your hands, making sure his fingers make contact with your fingers, and he places his lips on your cup where yours have been.

“It’s delicious,” he savors it for a moment. “But I enjoy my coffee plain the most. I guess it is just habit.” He shrugs in a carefree way as he hands you back your mug.

After drinking in silence for a few more minutes he picks up a menu and glances through it. “Would you like to order something for us? I’m a bit hungry but don’t know my pastries that well. My treat!”

“Oh okay, that does sound nice. Thank you,” you say and he hands you the menu. “Well are you picky? What fruit do you like?”

“Not picky at all. I eat mostly anything. And something with berries sounds good.”

“Okay… do you like cream or pudding filling?”

He ponders for a moment. “Pudding.”

“Okay,” so you proceed to order two danishes, one cheese and one strawberry.

When the little plates are brought out he looks impressed. “They look so good! I can cut them in half and we can both share.” You say while grabbing your cutlery.

“No worries! You don’t have to. I really don’t mind eating after you. You can go ahead and eat first,” Chrollo says with a smile.

“Uhm, alright, if you don’t mind,” you pick up the strawberry danish and take a bite. Again you notice him not taking his eyes off of you.

“I need to ask,” you say, still chewing a bit while you place the pastry back between the two of you. “Is this fulfilling some sort of requirement for you?”

“What do you mean?” he asks you perplexed, but his eyes betray him when they shine with excitement.

“Bandit’s secret,” you tell him. “I saw it back there. Does us talking and sharing food together fulfill a requirement?” You look him in the eye.

“Yes… and no,” he responds, looking at you intently. “There are more of them. And I’m not trying to use it on you, so don’t worry. Back there was just another job.” His expression looks honest.

“Well… Alright… I will trust you’re being honest with me,” you tell him, eating another bite. “Do you want some?”

He takes the pastry from your hand, “I would love it,” looking content, he takes a bite from the same place you were eating. “Delicious.”

Both of you once again enjoy the silence together while eating. Once you’re both finished, he pays, just as he told you.

“Say, are you headed anywhere? If you don’t have any plans I would love it if you joined me for a walk in the park.” Chrollo says while waving his arm to the view in front of you. “I would love to spend some more time together… what do you think?”

You are feeling quite tired, but you have to admire his bravery in being so forward. Feeling flattered, you agree.

He stands up and extends his hand to you. You reach out and grab it, allowing him to lead you away…

[pillow-anime-talk]

life with chrollo.

request ; @roseamie01: can i have some chrollo x reader? it’s up to you to write about anything and i am fine with nsfw stuff so i leave it to your imagination!

# tags: headcanon; current relationship; simple day with chrollo from morning to night; romance; a bit of fluff and soft!chrollo; sfw & nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual activities, nasty sex with chrollo, spanking, hair pulling, spitting, slutty names, deep throat, blood and bruises mention

includes: gender neutral reader ft. chrollo lucilfer {hxh}

author’s note: sorry for waiting so long! thank you and have nice day/night :)!

→ sfw part ←

↘ Chrollo is husband material for me. He’s a really calm man who cares about the person closest to him if he truly loves them, and not just manipulates them and forces them to do bad things.

↘ Always puts his partner at first place and gets angry when someone tries to “steal” you or is too pushy with you.

↘ I’m also sure he likes to show off your relationship and always stays close to you in important meetings; he always has his hand on your shoulder or hip and often gives you kisses on the lips or hands. He also likes to tease all his male friends who are still single.

↘ He’s a gentleman. He loves all those smooth situations, like letting you through the door or paying for a fancy dinner. I also think that Chrollo likes to pamper you materially and never spares his money for a new gift for you: new shoes, a pretty cotton sweater, jewelry with beautiful gemstones, and is even willing to buy you a small pet if he sees that you will be a good future owner and take care of the animal appropriately.

↘ Chrollo is understanding and patient, though often overprotective and gets angry when you don’t listen to him or do stupid/dangerous things like going on missions with him or playing with Pakunoda’s weapons. However, he never raises his voice at you because your smile is apology enough for him. He’ll just take that knife or gun from you and give you a popsicle or your favorite bag of candy in return.

↘ He’s really cute and the rest of the Troupe are surprised by his behavior because Chrollo without you and with you are two completely different people.

→ nsfw part ←

↘ In bed, however, Chrollo is... different.

↘ Just as he seems loving and affectionate with you around people, in your bedroom he’s not afraid to use more insulting words towards you. He loves to be rude, demanding and fast, sometimes too fast that orgasms go through your body one by one and you choke or cry with pleasure.

↘ During sex, Chrollo loves to bite you, pull your hair, spit on your face red from exertion, or slap your butt with such force that you feel pain for the next two or three days. 

↘ Sometimes he is so crazy and strong that the pressure of his hand causes bruises, even scratches and light blood stains on the light-colored sheets. He loves to make you agonize and bliss at the same time.

↘ Your boyfriend is a monster who always sets the pace, control and position (of course he sometimes grants your requests, but mostly he decides about your sexual activity). He loves to fuck you from behind and standing up against the wall, he also loves sex sitting down and one where he can bind your body with a tie, a piece of string or even his own T-shirt.

↘ He’s not a fan of sex toys and you both know that his tongue or fingers alone are enough to satisfy your needs. He also loves oral sex, or rather a strong deep throat. When he sees your face turn purple and more saliva drips from your mouth than usual, he’s so satisfied.

↘ A loving relationship with dirty sex is the perfect description of your relationship.

[cat3ch1sm]

Hi, sorry this is my first time asking somebody something and English is not my first language so I apologize in advance.

I hope this is the right way to send in requests (I feel like a grandma using this app tbh 💀) but anyway I am in love with how you write chrollo and I honestly cant get enough.

So could you maybe write about Chrollo having an insecure s/o like she actually looks basic and even if she styles her hair and puts makeup on while wearing something pretty it doesn't make her feel beautiful so she rather wears casual clothes? I hope it is not too much

But again thank you for your writing <3

🕸️~ hello!! i’ll be happy to write your request, and dw you sent it in correctly lol💚 im very happy to see that you like the way i write chrollo, the whole reason i write is to make you all happy! without further ado, let’s get into the writing. enjoy, ily <333 so sorry for the wait btw :(( @shyminnie07

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ fem!reader

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brows furrowed in thought. You’d spent the last hour and a half styling your hair, doing your makeup, getting dressed up, and accessorizing just to stand in front of the bathroom sink and not feel any different. Your boyfriend, Chrollo, and you were supposed to attend a prestigious gathering of crime syndicates and leaders, but standing here now, you were wondering if maybe you should back out. Chrollo was sure to be the most important figure at this gala, and to have a plain girl like you on his arm wouldn’t be a good look for him. No, people would be expecting a drop dead gorgeous girl, a woman rather, one who walked with pride and exhibited an aura of confidence and sophistication. That just wasn’t you.

With a sigh, you began to slip the gold bracelets from your wrists, letting them clatter to the sink counter. They just felt like dead weight. Carefully, you began to do the same to your necklaces.

You weren’t expecting Chrollo to walk in then, entering your bathroom in a very elegant black and red suit and tie. His hair was down and his forehead bandaged as it usually was when you two went out. The dark colors of his clothes brought out the paleness of his gray eyes, easy to get lost in as usual.

Seeing Chrollo look so lovely only confirmed your doubts, and still fiddling with your necklace clasp, you gave him a halfhearted smile as he came up to you.

Chrollo’s lips spread into a warm, dazzling smile. “My love, you look absolutely stunning tonight.” He noticed you trying to undo your necklace and moved behind you, thinking that you needed help putting it on. “Do you need help with your necklace, dear?”

You stepped away from Chrollo’s hands moving up to your neck, letting out a nervous laugh. “Ah, thank you, but it’s alright. I was just going to take it off.” Finally, you managed to undo the clasp of the necklace and set the silver chain on the counter.

Chrollo seemed confused. “Take it off? But it looks so lovely on you.”

You paused, not knowing how to respond, but when you saw yours and Chrollo’s reflection in the mirror, you remembered what you were going to say. “That’s a sweet thing to say. But… I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think I’ll be going to this event with you.” You sighed and dropped your gaze, not wanting to see Chrollo’s reaction.

“How come?” Chrollo asked, trying to meet your gaze but unable to find your eyes. “Sweetheart, is something the matter? Did I do something to upset you?”

You shook your head frantically. “Oh, no, of course not! I just… don’t think I should be seen with you.”

Chrollo paused for a moment. “Is it safety you’re worried about? It is a valid concern… but if anybody tries to harm you at all, I’ll kill them. You know that.”

“Ah, no, it’s not safety. It’s just…” You trailed off. How were you supposed to tell him that you simply weren’t pretty enough to go to such an event with someone like Chrollo? It seemed so shallow. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to embarrass him with your presence. At least for this event, he deserved someone more desirable to the eye.

“Chrollo, look at you.” You gestured to the mirror, and he followed your gaze. “Everything about you is just so… perfect. There’s nothing out of place about you.” Your eyes briefly darted to your own reflection before instinctively dropping again. “And then there’s just me, I guess.” You didn’t really know what to say after that, instead picking up the necklace you’d taken off and twirling the chain around your finger.

Chrollo was silent for a bit. “Just you?” he queried. “What does that mean?”

You weren’t expecting the question, but you answered it anyway. “Well, I mean-“ you threw your hands up and dropped them back down again- “it’s just me. I’m not really all that pretty. Even with makeup and nice clothes on, I’m nowhere near your level. I would really just make you look bad.” Feeling like you’d said too much, you started out the bathroom, but Chrollo took your wrist in his hand before you could get out of reach. Gently, he turned you around until you were face-to-face with him.

He looked you up and down, his gray eyes meaningful. For a moment he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, my love, if only you could see yourself the way I see you,” Chrollo finally sighed, the wistful look in his eyes making you avert yours.

You rolled your eyes a little, trying to seem dismissive and like you didn’t care, but it was a facade. “Yeah, me too, I guess.”

“Look at me.” Chrollo took your chin in his hand and turned your face back towards him, making you startle in surprise and immediately drop your gaze again.

“Beauty isn’t in the eyes of the beholder but rather in the mind of its owner. If you genuinely don’t believe you’re beautiful, I can’t convince you otherwise. But you are. Really.” Chrollo lifted your chin up, making you look at him this time. “However, if you really don’t want to accompany me to the gala, I won’t make you. I’d hate for you to feel insecure.” Chrollo released your face and peered into your eyes again, making sure you understood him.

You hesitated before answering, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you gazed tentatively into the mirror. “I think this time around I’ll just… stay here.”

Chrollo nodded understandingly. “Whatever you’d like, Y/N.” He glanced in the mirror briefly, straightening his tie before walking to the bathroom door. “If you’d like me to bring you back anything, let me know. Have a good night, my love.” And with that, he was gone.

(ew that was ass wtf)

(cat3ch1sm stop ending every story the same way challenge (IMPOSSIBLE))

[aifanfictions]

do a story about Chrollo Lucilfer introducing (y/n) to the Phantomhive troupe as his girlfriend and ordering everyone to treat (y/n) like royalty

Shadows of Affection

In the clandestine world of organized crime, Chrollo Lucilfer, the enigmatic leader of the infamous Phantomhive Troupe, was revered for his sharp intellect and charismatic leadership. However, behind the curtain of ruthlessness and calculated strategies, there existed a side of him that very few had the privilege to witness—a side that held the promise of an extraordinary love story.

It was a moonlit night when Chrollo arrived at the Troupe's hidden lair, accompanied by an unexpected presence—(Y/N). (Y/N) was a figure of undeniable allure, and her entrance into the dimly lit room sent ripples of astonishment through the group.

The Troupe members, known for their unwavering loyalty to Chrollo, watched in stunned silence as their leader introduced (Y/N) as his girlfriend. It was a revelation that left them bewildered, for they had never witnessed Chrollo express affection or invite anyone into their tightly knit circle.

"Allow me to introduce (Y/N)," Chrollo declared, his voice resonating with authority, "my beloved girlfriend. From this moment forward, I expect each of you to treat her with the utmost respect and deference."

His words hung in the air, the room filled with palpable tension, as the Troupe members exchanged incredulous glances. Yet, it was not within their nature to question Chrollo's commands, so they reluctantly accepted his directive with silent nods.

As days turned into weeks, (Y/N) found herself immersed in the enigmatic world of the Phantomhive Troupe, a world where crime and chaos thrived. To her surprise, the Troupe members wholeheartedly complied with Chrollo's decree. They regarded her with reverence and adoration, attending to her every desire and ensuring her comfort within the secretive confines of their hidden sanctuary.

Chrollo, a leader renowned for his calculated and enigmatic demeanor, underwent a transformation in (Y/N)'s presence. He became more accessible, more human, allowing his emotions to flow freely. Their relationship evolved into a complex and passionate love story, one that transcended the darkness of their criminal lives.

(Y/N) was captivated by Chrollo's intelligence, charm, and the duality that defined his character—a leader of ruthless criminals who was also capable of tender affection and deep emotional connections. Together, they shared stolen moments amidst the shadows, finding solace in the midst of their chaotic existence.

However, the world of the Phantomhive Troupe was far from benign. Danger lurked at every turn, and (Y/N) quickly discovered that her role as Chrollo's girlfriend made her a target for their enemies. Rival groups sought to exploit her presence, viewing her as a potential weakness to be exploited.

Yet, (Y/N) was far from a passive observer in this treacherous world. She displayed a strength of character and a resilience that earned her the respect of the Troupe members. They saw her as an equal, someone who could hold her own in their ruthless domain.

As the days unfolded and the trials of their criminal lives continued, Chrollo and (Y/N)'s love story deepened. Their bond grew stronger amidst the chaos, and (Y/N) became an indispensable and beloved member of the Troupe, holding her own alongside the deadliest criminals.

Their love defied the odds, flourishing in the darkest corners of their existence. Chrollo Lucilfer, the enigmatic leader of the Phantomhive Troupe, had unearthed love in the most unlikely of places, and with (Y/N) by his side, their world of shadows became a little less cold and a lot more enchanting.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[mxserish]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || chrollo lucilfer

chrollo lucilfer x reader

genre: pure angst; self-confort

tw: blood, gore

you had so many things you wanted to say to him. so many loving words that remained unspoken. so many wishes that died on your throat. only when you stare at his ‘corpse’ do you spit out all you've wanted to say.

It was pouring heavily in Yorknew City. The rain was falling like bricks, effectively drowning out all sounds. Not that you could create any while staring at it.

The body was slumped against the wall, his skin adorned with multiple stab wounds. His clothes were completely destroyed by the assassin hired to kill him, you assumed. The crimson blood ran down his cheeks, and a few droplets fell to the ground, staining the muddy grass.

Perhaps you should feel more depressed over losing your beloved and enraged at the world for taking him away from you. You should be sobbing uncontrollably and screaming out in pain. You couldn't bear feeling those pitiful sentiments after he had betrayed you so many times. Not when he left you without saying goodbye.

You could feel how fridgid his skin was as you brushed your fingers across his cheek. The only other sign that showed he was indeed gone was his dispassionate gaze that peered into your very soul.

"I hope it hurt, whatever torture they put you through." Those words felt uncomfortable in your mouth, as if you were forcing them out.

"But knowing you, I doubt you would have been the least bit afraid." You talked to him like you always did, ignoring the reality that he wasn't going to answer.

In frustration, you gritted your teeth. "Say something, anything. Just get up and laugh like this is one of your ridiculous jokes." You were reminded of the time he pretended to die in order to gauge your response. You can still remember how upset you were with him for making light of such a serious situation.

However, he didn't stand up as he usually did. He didn't chuckle at your terrified expression. He did not wipe up your tears and spoke to you in a reassuring tone. Deafening silence was all you got in response.

As the harsh truth dawned on you, you finally allowed the barricades you had built to crumble. You knelt down and grabbed his tattered shirt firmly.

"You bastard! Why are you able to make me feel so miserable even after you've died?!" You repeatedly struck his chest, venting your rage on his cold form. Your tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks, mixing with the rain.

"Why did you make me love you if you were just going to leave me straight after?" Were you merely a plaything for him? Was he amusing himself by messing with your feelings? Your mind was obscured by those menacing ideas at this vulnerable time.

Your cries gradually faded and you stopped hitting his chest, with only the occasional hicups escaping your mouth. Your lips curled into an embarrassed smile.

“Heh, you probably would have told me to quit sobbing over you.” Happy memories began to fill your head. Despite the fact that they were few compared to all the painful ones, they warmed your heart and gave you peace of mind.

"I guess this is really over, isn't it?" He doesn't reply, and you eventually accept that he is leaving, opting for a smaller, sadder smile on your face.

"Perhaps you wished to run away from all the sins you had committed. You should have known better." A little chuckle escaped your tongue, and after a brief time of staring into his empty eyes, your lips finally settled on his bloody ones.

Your foreheads came together as you spoke your last words to him and shared this final moment. "I wish you burn in hell, my darling."

As you moved away from the body, you experienced calmness in your thoughts. You had the impression that the last puzzle piece of your life had been put in its proper position. You would not strive to forget him, as he played a significant role in your life, but rather learn from your and his mistakes in order to live a better life.

You were finally able to escape his grip because of his death. At least, that's what he was thinking as he saw you walk away from his 'corpse.' 

bruh how much gel does chrollo waste on his hair i’m genuinely curious

— posted: december 13, 2022

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Dracula (1931).

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Runtime: 1.8k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Obsessive Behavior, Threats of Physical Violence, Slight Gore, and Mentions of Death.

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You could feel his eyes burning into you from the other side of the abruptly-too-short table, the chill of the marble slab where it threatened to press into your midriff, but you did your best to ignore both. The table had already been set by the time you were called down to the dining room, a small army of silver platters arranged neatly in the space between you and him. You hadn’t eaten since the night before, but you weren’t hungry. Even if you had been, it was hard to imagine forcing yourself to choke down anything aside from your own anxiety. You were tempted to try your luck with the generously poured glass of wine to your left, but to drink it, you’d have to reach for it, and to reach for it, you’d have to lift your hands from where they were balled in your lap and you couldn’t do that because your hands wouldn’t stop fucking shak—

“Is the meal not to your tastes, dear?”

“It’s perfect,” you responded immediately, beaming. You grabbed the wine glass before you could hesitate, drinking as much as you could stand to. Chrollo’s ever-present grin had taken on a contented lull by the time you set it down. “Remind me to thank the chef before I leave. That is, if I ever actually manage to catch him.” And then, with a forced laugh, “That is, if this storm ever lets up long enough for me to get out of here.”

As if on cue, thunder clapped outside, followed shortly by a bolt of lightning bright enough to cast the dimly light dining room in a vibrant silver haze. You shrunk into your seat, but Chrollo’s dark eyes only seemed to brighten. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into a member of my staff, yet. It’s been… how long? Four days?” Six. Come midnight, you’d be celebrating your week-long anniversary. “I hope you don’t think I’m keeping anyone away from you deliberately. Not that I’d mind keeping you to myself.”

It took everything you had to smile rather than cringe, to laugh rather than bury your face in your hands and scream. A day ago, you would’ve found your host’s nonchalance charming, but it was hard to find someone charming when the thought of meeting his eyes made you feel physically sick. It was hard to believe you’d been so thankful when you first turned-up on the doorstep of his dark, empty countryside mansion, when you realized you wouldn’t be at the mercy of an ancient, self-isolating millionaire but a man around you own age who, as far as you could tell, was as flustered to see you as you were to need his help. You explained that your car broke down about half a mile down the road, and he invited you to spend the night before calling for help at a more reasonable hour. The typhoon had rolled in not long before sunrise, and, well…

Again, thunder crashed and rain pelted the mansion from all directions. This time, you flinched into your seat before you could stop yourself.

It was your own fault, honestly. It’s not like there weren’t signs that something was wrong. Chrollo was charming, but he was off-putting, too. He seemed to treat the concept of personal space as more of a suggestion as a rule, whether that meant seeking you out in the tightest corner of the mansion’s sprawling library just to share a sofa truly meant for, at most, one person or letting himself into your room at night as if he couldn’t tell the difference between two in the afternoon and two in the morning. He claimed to have a full staff, and yet, you’d never run into any maids, butlers or cooks – never saw anyone who wasn’t Chrollo. His clothes always seemed to be either strange or ill-fitting, like he was wearing items from someone else’s closet, and more damningly, he didn’t seem at all suspicious of you, the stranger he’d allowed to stay in his home for nearly a week, now. No offense was particularly jarring, but it should’ve added up. You should’ve noticed sooner.

The only thing you could do, you figured, was bid your time and sneak out in the early hours of the morning. The landlines were down and you didn’t have cell reception, but the next house couldn’t be that far away, and you doubted Chrollo would follow you into the storm. Or, you hoped he wouldn’t, at least. You couldn’t really do much more than that.

“So,” Chrollo went on, and you made a point of nodding and smiling like he’d just said the smartest thing you’d ever heard, “When did you find the bodies?”

Immediately, your expression fell. A second later, you noticed that your hands had stopped shaking, but only because you’d lost the ability to move entirely.

When you finally regained the will to speak, it was all you could do to spit out something pathetically noncommittal. “...I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Don’t be shy. I promise, I’m not mad, just curious.” He paused, letting his eyes bore into you. “You left the door unlocked.”

Ah.

The basement door, to be more specific. Calling what you’d found ‘bodies’ might’ve been a little generous, too. What little had been left of each corpse was already so badly deteriorated that it would’ve been impossible to tell which detached hand might’ve belonged to what disembodied torso. That was probably your fault, too. If you’d known to be wary of Chrollo, you would’ve known better than to follow him into the one place he’d asked you not to go, the one place he seemed to always disappear to when he wasn’t breathing down your neck.

“This morning,” you admitted. “I was bored and looking for you. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing that it took me this long to realize you were a…”

You trailed off, but Chrollo was more than happy to finish in your stead. “A member of the Phantom Troupe?”

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from buckling – your mouth falling open as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” And then, after burying your face in your hands, “I thought you were a fucking vampire, you goth prick.”

That was enough to earn an airy chuckle from Chrollo, any condescension hidden well underneath wry amusement. While you tried to recover, he went on. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you that I don’t actually live here. In truth, I only arrived a few hours before you did – long enough to dispose of the residents and staff, even if getting rid of their remains has been an…” For once, his eyes shifted away from you, skirting to the left. “An ongoing process.”

With a shallow sigh, he pushed himself to his feet rounding the table and falling into the chair closest to you. Dinner, if he’d ever had any interest in it at all, was thoroughly forgotten as he propped an arm on the edge and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not being more upfront. In a line of work like mine, it’s so rare to find an opportunity to play house.”

So, he was a thief. No, it was more than that – he was a world-class thief, with worse crimes under his belt than a handful of homicides and the wrongful imprisonment of one confused civilian. God. This was bad. You should’ve left earlier – as soon as you found the bodies. You should’ve never gotten out of your car at all.

Slowly, you straightened your back, keeping your arms crossed as you glared half-heartedly. “Are you going to let me leave?”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against his jaw. “Now, why would I go and do something like that?”

Your heart sank in your chest. “You’re going to kill me, then?”

“Now you’re just being hurtful.” It was uncanny, how little his demeanor changed prior and post to his confession. If anything, he seemed even more smug – like he was basking in your apparent terror. “As if I could be so wasteful. Besides, I was under the impression that you’ve been enjoying out time together.”

“And I was under the impression that you weren’t a serial killer!” You threw up your hands, agitation quickly overshadowing the worst of your nerves. “Things can change!”

“I suppose they can.” He was so frustratingly calm. If the memory of his dissected victims wasn’t burnt so deeply into your mind, you would’ve rolled your eyes. “And eventually, things will. You don’t think I plan to keep you trapped in this estate forever, do you?”

Rather than dwell on the implication, you moved on swiftly. “If you’re not going to hurt me, you can’t stop me from leaving. The storm can’t be more dangerous than spending another night with you.”

Somehow, his smile only seemed to grow that much wider. “Did you know that the majority of deaths related to natural disasters are from delayed attempts to evacuate? There are all sorts of threats – flooding, debris, sinkholes…” He brightened with each listed hazard, and you tried (and failed) not to picture yourself drowning in muddy rainwater. “Oh, and sickness, of course. Spend enough time in the rain and it won’t matter if you eventually find shelter – you’ll die of pneumonia in a matter of weeks.”

“You don’t know—”

“And, for the record, I said I wasn’t planning to kill you. You never asked about anything else.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry, but I sure you understand. It’d just be irresponsible to promise that I’ll never have to, say, dislocate your ankle to stop you from making a very brash, very unadvisable decision.”

“Like calling the cops.”

“Like trying to go outside in a very bad, very easily deadly storm,” he clarified. “You can contact anyone you’d like, but please, try to be considerate. I’m going to run out of room in the basement eventually.”

This time, when you melted into your seat, it wasn’t out of reflex or anxiety, but in a deliberate effort to put that much more distance between him and you. “I… I don’t want to get hurt, and I don’t want to die,” you admitted, taking longer than it should’ve to say something so glaringly obvious. “Tell me what I have to do to make that not happen.”

Yet another clap of thunder. This time, the lightning didn’t so much as tint his soulless eyes. “Straight to the point, as always. I like that about you.”

For the first time, he seemed to hesitate – a pink haze spreading over his pale cheeks as he reached out and laid his hand, almost gingerly, over yours. His trepidation was short-lived, though, only lasting up until the second you tried to pull away and he had an excuse to intertwine his fingers with yours, his grip tight enough to bruise.

“Why don’t we get to bed, darling?”  

[bl00dalchemist]

I watched HxH again as you may have noticed.

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[chrollogy]

SILKEN WEB

— chrollo lucilfer x f!reader x hisoka morow

syn: Hisoka’s ‘generosity’ allows Chrollo to fuck you in front of him after he’s seen the way the latter has looked at you. Though, the redhead cannot help but join in on the fun despite being the cuck—he has his ways, he always does.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, porn without plot, cuckolding, voyeurism, threesome, creampie unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f & m), anal (f), masturbation (m), edging, overstimulation, hisoka uses bungee gum, chrollo might be pining over reader, not beta read.

word count: 2.8k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. the fruit of my late night thoughts nod nod. as per poll results, here’s hisoka as the cuck :3

Fantasizing—a children’s pastime, a mere way to escape from one’s gruelling reality but Chrollo Lucilfer would be lying to himself if he deemed he wasn’t immune to it. Oh, he certainly wasn’t without a doubt; the root of all his wildest dreams, and twisted carnal desires was none other than the woman beneath him, all in her serene nakedness—you.

So breathtakingly exquisite—the epitome of beauty. From the lust-clouded gaze that complimented the colour of your eyes all the way to the dulcet tone of your breaths, this was sinful heaven for Chrollo. Sinful not because of the sharp pleasure kissing down his spine but simply because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. Not lovers, not friends, mere acquaintances, and your heart was reserved for none other than a member of the Troupe he led.

But that never stopped Chrollo from fantasizing about you, about this. Ever the observant fighter, it didn’t take long for Hisoka to catch the former’s lingering stares on you—albeit, as blank as a sheet of paper—whenever he paraded you around. One of the biggest telling signs was that Chrollo had never uttered a word regarding your presence whenever you sat there during their meetings despite the other members’ dismay.

Of course, once something piqued Hisoka’s curiosity, he wouldn’t let go until a solid answer was handed to him on a silver platter. It was a short exchange between the two males, a few sharp retorts from Hisoka’s end but nonetheless, it led to this lewd scene. Per the magician’s words, he gave Chrollo permission to do whatever he pleased to you—to fuck, to make love, to get lost in eye-rolling pleasure within your very walls but only if he got to watch everything unfold.

From the intimate act of undressing, and peeling of clothes all the way to a passionate climax that was sure to vex his very bones, Hisoka was to watch it all.

Faint squeaks of the bed frame paired with yours, and Chrollo’s heated gasps filled every corner of the room; his thrusts were deep, and rapid, body intimately flushed against your own which absolutely left no room for coherent words to come out—with the way his cockhead repeatedly prodded your sweet spot, strings of broken whimpers, and low moans were the best you could muster.

Sex wasn’t something you were foreign with but the ungodly rhythm of Chrollo’s hips was enough to make you feel like a virgin again begging for more, more, more, nothing but pleasure engrained inside your mind, clawing, and running after that blissful sensation.

Chrollo was different from Hisoka, he handled you with the utmost gentleness but that didn’t take away the fact that he pounded you oh-so-passionately into the ivory mattress beneath. On the other hand, Hisoka was rough, and animalistic—purely driven by his wild carnal desires. 

Chrollo’s sweat-lined forehead rested against yours, face mere centimetres from your own as your breaths intertwined in a vulgar dance. The hearts of his palms captured your trembling hands in a firm hold, pinning them on either side of your head, and used as leverage to drive his cock deeper into your sopping cunt—as deep as his desires went for you.

He closed his eyes at the feel of your walls clenching around him, jaw tightening as electric pleasure shot up his spine, “F-fuck . .” God, you felt divine, Chrollo truly wanted to keep you to himself. He could treat you so much better than Hisoka—have you reach new heights of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

Alas, that was out of the picture, Chrollo would have to settle for the mere intimacy of fucking you beneath these ivory covers, the same ones you, and Hisoka retire under after a long, tiring day. The duvet draped loosely across Chrollo’s back, mirroring a broken angel’s wings, and with the eager thrusts of his hips, it slowly slipped downwards. It was hot, and stuffy beneath the weight of the blanket but he’d do anything to keep the lewd intimacy from a pair of prying eyes.

That’s right, Hisoka sat on a chair not too far off the foot of the bed, an unamused expression plastered on his face but the growing tent between his spreaded legs hinted far from unamused.

Sure, the pornographic sounds bouncing off the walls had his cock hardening but Hisoka was deprived. He clicked his tongue, the sharp sound was enough to reel Chrollo out of his pleasured state followed by a stutter in his thrusts. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Chrollo but I said to give me a show, didn’t I?” What was Hisoka supposed to do with your bodies tucked beneath the covers? 

His view was nothing but the top half of Chrollo’s naked back, and the covers moving along with the latter’s thrusts, other than that, it left everything to Hisoka’s imagination. Of course, he wasn’t going to let it be, not after he generously let Chrollo fuck you like this.

With a swift flick of his index finger, the rubbery bright pink aura extended from the tip of his digit all the way to the ivory covers atop Chrollo’s naked back, attaching itself onto the fabric. A smirk crept its way up to Hisoka’s face as he pulled the covers down, exposing the way your naked bodies intimately tangled with one another.

A rather surprised gasp left your lips as the cool air hugged your fervent body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Naturally, this had also caught Chrollo off guard but didn’t let on, instead, the raven haired male responded by drilling his hips at a much faster pace, pulling a string of broken moans from your throat which only fuelled the excitement embedded in Hisoka’s chest.

Light amber eyes fixated where you and Chrollo met, Hisoka intently watched as the former’s cock disappeared, and reappeared between your coated slit—not to mention the light sheen of your essence around Chrollo’s cock, causing it to glimmer beneath the afternoon rays that seeped through the windows. Now, this was what Hisoka wanted to see—you, and Chrollo all in your filthy glory.

The feeling of blood rapidly rushing down to his cock, and the familiar tingle between his legs made Hisoka’s citrine gaze roll back, not to mention the growing delight on his face—it was anything but an innocent look. Lewd, wet sounds that were once muffled beneath the ivory duvet now reached Hisoka’s ears like an unholy melody; the constant skin slapping, the mixture of high, and low moans—the impurity of it all, your lover revelled in it.

Sounds of the redhead’s shameless pornographic moans intertwined with your own, and Chrollo’s as he teased himself through the fabric of his pants. Excitement shocked every part of his body like electricity, rendering him sensitive to anything, and everything—it was the same sensation as the extreme bloodlust he felt whenever he thirsted for battle.

Chrollo quietly clicked his tongue, not bothering to glance back at Hisoka in annoyance. He needed to focus on you. And he did. Without compromising the pace of his hips, Chrollo hooked his fingers beneath the back of your right knee, and deftly slung your whole leg atop his shoulder. The deeper angle of his cock had your back arching, your hands scrambled for his taut biceps to claw, and dig into as he pushed you further, and further into the borders of insanity.

“C-Chrollo! Fuck—right there! Just like that—haah!”

He let out a low groan as your nails marked him up, leaving streaks of bright red on his skin. By the looks of it, he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way your cunt gripped him like a vice. Nonetheless, Chrollo’s pace didn’t let up despite the resistance of your walls, albeit, it had his legs quivering, and breath hitching—god, Hisoka was so fucking lucky to have this, to have you.

Chrollo closed his eyes, and parted his lips to make way for soft pants, he focused his entire body in chasing yours, and his pleasure, basking in the ultimate bliss his body was currently experiencing.

Yes. Yes. Ye—

“She likes—haah! She likes taking it from behind—ngh!” The raven haired male shot his eyes open at the sound of Hisoka’s wanton voice, the concentration he once held faltering just a bit from the sudden noise.

Despite Chrollo’s better judgement, he hauled you into the position like a mere ragdoll, deftly handling your limp body with equal amounts of roughness, and gentleness. Though, your arms violently shook, and gave out as soon as Chrollo re-entered your cunt. With your torso flush against the ivory sheets, your lower half remained in position—easier for him to drive his cock deeper; you swore you could feel him in your throat.

The redhead let out a low chuckle, eager hands messily pulling his pants down to free his hard cock; Hisoka sighed at the lack of restraint, and threw his head back, exposing the length of his neck. 

With the new position, Chrollo returned to the pace he had set earlier, heavy balls slapping against your clit from each hard thrust. Skin against skin burned like a searing blaze but god did it feel amazing, not to mention how it stimulated your sensitive bud in all the right ways.

Chrollo curled over himself to place wet open-mouthed kisses down the length of your spine, moaning low saccharine praises in between. He pushed, and pushed into your sopping cunt until the coil deep in your stomach violently snapped. With a loud moan of his name muffled against the damp sheets, your back arched as you came around Chrollo—muscles taut, and knuckles a shade of ivory while pleasure gnawed at your skin.

Hisoka unabashedly fisted at his cock, one hand focused on pleasuring himself while the other sunk into the plush of the armchair. He matched the pace of his hand to Chrollo’s hips, imagining that it was your cunt instead of his palm, albeit, your velvety walls absolutely compared to nothing. Oh well, he’ll get a taste of you one way or another.

It didn’t take long for Chrollo to follow suit, driving his hips a couple more times before completely pulling out, and blowing his entire load on your bare back. He let out a shameless moan of your name—the loudest one he’s let out. Thick, milky ribbons of Chrollo’s cum unceremoniously painted your skin white, and all he could do was stare at it in a haze while his chest heaved up, and down.

On the other hand, Hisoka gave himself a few more rough pumps before squeezing the base of his leaking cock, lustily letting out a hiss as the pleasure he’d worked so hard for slowly dissipated. He cursed in between rough pants—the hunger for a sweet release just grew tenfold after depriving himself of an orgasm.

Hisoka had something better in mind than cumming on his hand.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Strong, muscular legs slightly quivered with every step taken towards the bed, cock standing proudly against his abdomen. Chrollo only narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, clearly displeased by his sudden initiative.

The former returned a smile, “Oh, don’t get greedy now, Chrollo. I’ll give you two choices—” He held out two long digits. “Either you sit, and watch or join in on the fun.”

Never in a million years would Chrollo even think to engage in a threesome with you, and Hisoka. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that you were the latter’s lover or the fact that he was on the same bed as Hisoka. Nonetheless, here he was balls deep inside your ass, completely unhindered by inhibitions. Hisoka cursed at the feel of your wet cunt, biting his lips at the lewd sound it made as your hot cum coated his cock.

The redhead laid flat on his back, cunt wrapped around him while you straddled his lap which left Chrollo to take care of your backside. Your body remained slumped against Hisoka’s—limp, and quivering as if one wrong move would have you exploding to bits. Could you really blame yourself? Both men stretched you out like it was their sole purpose, it did nothing but put your body under immense pleasure.

You were sandwiched between Hisoka, and Chrollo as though mimicking a mere fly caught in a spider’s silken web, unable to escape. And that usually meant one thing: to wait for one’s impending doom before the ruthless arachnid strikes.

An experimental thrust of their hips had you wailing in pleasure. Having not given enough time to come down from your high, you were still too sensitive—any form of sexual stimulation immediately had your body uncontrollably shaking, and hot tears lining your eyes. Hisoka cupped your jaw with both hands, lifting your face in front of his own before closing the distance; heated, and rough just how he liked it; the redhead didn’t hesitate shoving his tongue past your lips, intimately exploring the inside of your mouth with the wet muscle.

If anything, the messy kiss was enough to distract you from the sudden rough pistoning of their hips—Hisoka gleefully swallowed your wanton moans, and relished at the burning sensation of your nails scratching down his bare chest. The bed creaked under the weight of their merciless thrusts with the headboard atop Hisoka’s head repeatedly banging the wall behind it; these sounds mixed with the lewd melody the three of you produced filled all four corners of the room.

It was funny, anyone would think that a Hisoka, and Chrollo tandem would be a match made in hell; highly volatile once paired together which would result in utter chaos but this—the two moved in perfect unison as though they shared one mind, one ideal. Even only if it was for this moment that they saw one another eye to eye, a wordless union to bring you to another orgasm.

A thin, translucent string of saliva connected your lips to Hisoka’s as he pulled away for a breather, hot breaths mingling with one another as you panted in eachother's face. A sense of pride bloomed across his crimson-marked chest as he watched your lust-filled eyes roll to the back of your head—Hisoka always had a thing for your expressions during sex, it served as fuel to keep going, to keep fucking you.

You looked beautiful bouncing on their cocks, head falling forward while taking their entire length like a champ; the only thing you could really do was grip onto Hisoka’s shoulders, and moan for your dear life. Chrollo couldn’t help but fixate on the way your ass jolted with every thrust, even just the sight of his cock disappearing, and reappearing between the globes of your ass had his head spinning.

It didn’t take long for you to reach yet another orgasm, and this time, it was more intense than the previous one; hot tears ran down your damp cheeks as your body convulsed from pleasure, a drawn out moan of their names combined scratched at your throat. As though he was punched in the gut, Chrollo curled over himself as you clenched around his cock, and attached his lips on your right shoulder, biting down hard at the bare skin.

Hisoka muttered sweet nothings while stroking your hair, amusement filling his tone; you laid there drowning in pleasure while both men remained chasing their own bliss, hips stuttering. It was filthy, and soaking wet where Chrollo, and Hisoka entered you, arousal mixed with your cum messily dripping down the latter’s balls, and onto the sheets beneath.

Chrollo’s digits dug into your skin, he sheathed his cock all the way inside your ass before emptying all his cum inside; he rode out his orgasm by grinding his hips, earning a dainty gasp of his name. Chrollo violently shuddered before releasing your skin from his teeth, he lapped, and kissed at the marks, helping ease the painful sensation he left.

This left Hisoka to firmly plant his feet on the mattress, and thrust upwards which sent your body bouncing once more; short gasps turned into full blown wanton moans as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your sweet spot, bringing your body into overstimulation. Hisoka groaned loudly as the familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach returned, you could tell he was close from the way his fingers gripped your waist with such desperation.

Strings of colourful curses left your lover’s throat as he came inside you, ribbons of his thick essence filling your walls all the way to the brim ‘til it leaked out, and dripped down his balls.

Heavy pants filled the room, the smell of sinful sex hung heavy in the air. The three of you remained still for a moment to catch your breaths but the short time also allowed your minds to clear of lust, and for the whole situation to actually settle in—of what the three of you just did.

Though, it was safe to say that Chrollo wasn’t going to let you escape from his hold any time soon—as though he had you entangled in bands of swathing silk—especially after finally getting a taste of you.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[0asisbliss]

Even if he did bad things. Even if he was a terrible person to some people. He was your baby behind closed doors. He didn’t do any of that “evil”, or “weird” stuff people go on, and on about. But when he was with you? Oh my no, never. If anything he would want you to hold him, love him, suffocate, and smother him with nothing but your warmth. Maybe he could even cry in your chest? Yeah?

Gojo, Geto, Yuuji, Choso, JJK) Chuuya, Dazai, Ranpo, (BSD) Rengoku, Genya, Sanemi, Gyomei, (DS) Aizawa, (MHA) Chrollo, Kurapika, (HXH) or any of your other faves.

[cheesecakethots]

chrollo is a bit uncanny in some ways. sometimes he seems more like a monster attempting to be human than an actual one. his gentlemanly façade is akin to a perfect imitation of a person; but it serves to characterise him as just that - an imitation.

it’s why he adores how human you are. messy hair, tired eyes with dark circles, a glean of sweat on your warm skin and a yawn leaving your tempting lips. on the rare nights he gets home late he’ll find himself sighing wistfully at the sight of you in bed, sprawled out and snoring.

sometimes he wonders if he’s even capable of love, if he’s fooled himself into believing a man like him is able to feel such a thing for another.

and then he imagines losing you. he imagines finding you in some abandoned building, your body broken and your eyes wide and your skin cold. he imagines what life would be like after you, or at least tries to. instead his mind revolves around a question he doesn’t want to find the answer to - would there be life after you?

chrollo isn’t sure if what he feels for you is love, if so simple of a word can describe even an ounce of the raw emotion he feels for you.

[eyesofbong]

◇━━━ Breakin' Tiles!

a/n note. I wanted to see if I could still write smut while I was completely butt ass naked in the bath—definitely not inspired by my bathing daydreams or anything! Who created this picture?! @luvhiso and I couldn't find it anywhere; we could only track down the official art sketch. If anyone knows, please reach out to either Smiley or me so I can give proper credit. ♡

pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

◇ warning. Let's see here, 18+ MDNI, explicit rough sex, shower sex, blowjob (m receiving), face fucking, throat bulging, cum swallowing, floor sex, p in v, fem bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie, he uses nen on your pussy (?!)

sypnosis. Grief-stricken by Uvogin’s recent death, Chrollo seeks solace in you, and before he departs to steal Neon’s nen, you offer yourself to him, allowing him to release his sorrow through your sweet cunt in the shower. 

word count. 3.8k

Chrollo’s gray-hued gaze bore down on you, cold with the lingering cloud of fresh grief. Despite his mind being far away, he was studying your submission, savoring how low you’d sunk—on your knees, cunt throbbing, mouth-watering, waiting for his command. His gaze, distant and gloomy, only made your desperation worse. You were nothing more than a devoted whore for him, and the shame of it made you wetter, your swollen folds practically begging for release. But that wouldn’t come until he decided. Until you earned it.

You didn’t care that your knees ached, and bruised from kneeling on the cold tile. That pain was a dull throb, nothing compared to the fire raging between your legs. Every second of his silence was unbearable, his unreadable glare making your heart race, your lips parting to catch your breath. You licked them instinctively, eyes wide and worshipful, as if his body were the only thing you lived for.

Chrollo’s body was your altar, and his cock… your offering.

It dangerously loomed before you, impossibly thick and heavy, veins bulging like they were about to burst under the pressure. The fat, swollen head dripped with precum, the thick liquid oozing down the length of his shaft. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it, couldn’t stop the way your body ached with need, the slick between your legs running down your thighs. His cock curved slightly upward, the tip an angry, dark red, so close you could almost taste it. Your cunt clenched at the sight, your body already begging for him to fill you, stretch you until you broke.

Your trembling fingers reached out, wrapping around the base of his cock, feeling it throb against your palm. His skin was hot, slick with water and precum, and you felt his desire pulse under your grip like a second heartbeat. Your hand barely fit around the girth, and the sheer size of him made your mouth go dry with anticipation. You knew that once you took him in, he’d wreck you, ruin you, and the thought made your pussy clench in anticipation.

You leaned in, your tongue slipping out, eager to taste him. The first lick was tentative, a soft swipe along the underside of his shaft, but the salty bitterness of precum and water made you shiver. You licked again, firmer this time, dragging your tongue up the thick vein that ran along his length. Chrollo’s cock twitched in your grip, a silent order for you to keep going. His hand clamped down on your head, fingers digging into your scalp, forcing your mouth to take him.

You gasped as he guided you, your lips parting to take in the swollen head, your tongue swirling around the tip as precum flooded your mouth. He tasted filthy—bitter, salty, and thick, making your throat tighten, but the feeling of submission only made you wetter. His cock was heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips as you took more of him, inch by inch until you were choking on his length. The pressure of him against your throat was unbearable, but you didn’t stop, your cunt dripping onto the shower tiles as you worshipped him with your mouth.

Chrollo’s grip tightened, his hips pushing forward, forcing you to take him deeper. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gagged around his cock, the obscene, wet sounds of your mouth echoing in the shower. He was relentless, using your mouth like it was nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. The thought of it, the humiliation, made your pussy gush, your whole body trembling as you gave yourself over to him completely.

You moved with him, your body syncing with his rhythm as he forced himself deeper down your throat. Each brutal thrust sent a shiver through you, the bulge of his cock visibly stretching your throat as he plunged in and out. The crushing grip he had on your head only made you slobber more, spit dripping down your chin and onto your chest as he fucked your mouth mercilessly. If he pressed harder, he could easily pop your head like a melon, and that knowledge—how close he was to destroying you—only made you more desperate to please him.

His cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly, a violent rhythm that left you gagging and choking, your eyes watering as his heavy, porcelain balls slapped wetly against your chin with each thrust. The obscene, wet slap, slap of his balls against your face echoed in the shower, mixing with the sound of your choked breaths and the filthy squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. He was relentless and rough, and it felt like he was using your mouth to rid himself of every bit of grief weighing him down.

And yet, even as he used you, you felt like you were giving him something—sucking the sadness out of him, your mouth offering a kind of solace. His gaze darkened, the icy detachment in his gray eyes cracking slightly. His lips remained pressed into a thin line, but the tension was there, building, about to snap.

His eyes, though—there was a flicker of something behind them now, something more primal, more raw. You felt it. He was losing his control, bit by bit. And you wanted to see him break, wanted to watch the stoic mask crumble and reveal the feral lust underneath. You craved it, to make him lose himself completely, to pull him back to life with your touch, your mouth.

Your hand slid up his thigh as you deepened your suction, hollowing your cheeks around him, pulling him deeper with each thrust. The guttural groan that escaped his throat sent a thrill through you, your cunt clenching at the sound of it. You were so close to unraveling him, to make him forget everything except the feeling of your mouth and the heat of your body.

You sucked harder, your tongue swirling around the thick veins of his cock, savoring the salt of his precum. His grip tightened, his hips jerking forward more erratically now. His breathing was ragged, lips parting as his control slipped away. You could feel it in the way his cock twitched, the way his balls tightened as he neared his breaking point.

This was what you wanted—to bring him to the edge, to make him lose himself in you completely, to watch the cold, distant Chrollo unravel into something raw and primal, just for you.

His cock twitched violently in your mouth, thick and pulsing as he reached the brink. Without warning, his grip on your head tightened to a vice-like hold, shoving you down until your nose was pressed against his pelvis. You felt him hit the back of your throat and beyond, your airway constricting as your lips stretched around him, eyes watering. He groaned, low and primal, as the first hot, thick spurt of cum exploded down your throat. It hit so fast that you barely had time to process it, let alone breathe.

Wave after wave of his cum flooded your mouth, sliding down your throat in thick ropes, overwhelming your senses. You gagged, throat convulsing around his cock, but he didn’t let up—forcing every last drop down until you were choking on it, gasping for air. Gulp. Gulp. The filthy sound of you swallowing echoed in the shower, his cock twitching with each swallow, as if marking every bit of control he had over you.

You could barely keep up, his cum spilling from your lips, dripping down your chin in messy, obscene strands. But he wasn’t finished. Just as the last tremor of his orgasm wracked his body, he yanked his cock from your mouth with a slick, wet pop, leaving you gasping, drooling, and cum still leaking from your parted lips. You barely had time to recover before his hands were on you, dragging you up like you weighed nothing, your legs shaking from the intensity of it all.

Without a word, he slammed you against the glass wall of the shower, your back hitting the cold surface with a sharp slap. The shock of it sent a jolt through your body, your bare skin sticking to the fogged-up glass, wet from the steam and your sweat. You let out a needy, breathless whine, your body trembling as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart, his cum still clinging to your lips.

Before you could catch your breath, his lips brushed your ear, his voice dark and commanding. "You're going to take it," he growled, his tone sending a fresh wave of arousal straight to your core. "Take it all."

His words were like fire, setting your nerves alight. You felt the heavy weight of his cock—still rock hard—press against your slick entrance, the head teasing your swollen folds. Your pussy throbbed, drenched, and aching to be filled. You whimpered, your body betraying you as your hips shifted forward, desperate for him to stretch you, to fuck you senseless.

He didn’t hesitate. His cock shoved into you in one brutal, unforgiving thrust, your slick walls parting around him with a wet squelch. The stretch was instant, the thick girth of him forcing you open, your pussy swallowing him greedily, your head thrown back against the glass as you let out a strangled moan. The sharp slap of his hips against yours echoed through the shower, each thrust deeper than the last, his cock plunging into you like he was claiming you, owning every inch of your body.

“You feel that?” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice barely above a growl as he buried himself inside you, his hips grinding against yours, forcing you to take every inch. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked until you can’t even think?”

You could barely respond, your mind blank from the overwhelming pressure of him filling you, stretching you so wide it hurt—but in the best way. Every thrust hit deep, dragging a filthy, wet sound from your cunt, the tight space between your bodies slick with your arousal. His balls slapped against your ass with each brutal thrust, the obscene smack of skin on skin only heightening the filthy scene, making you tremble.

Your legs were shaking, barely able to hold you up as he pounded into you, pushing you harder against the glass. It creaked under your weight, but neither of you cared. All you could feel was him—his cock ramming into your tight heat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispered filthy things into your ear. "You’re going to take it all, aren’t you?" he rasped, his voice dark, breath hot against your neck. "Every fucking inch of me."

Chrollo’s presence was overwhelming, his body towering over you with a deadly grace that made him seem more god than man. The steam from the shower clung to his pale skin, droplets running down the sharp planes of his body, tracing the defined lines of muscle that rippled with every motion. His chest was broad but sleek, the kind of strength that was deceptive—he didn’t need to bulk up to be powerful. His shoulders were wide, tapering down to a narrow waist that highlighted the striking V-shape of his torso. The faintest scars marred his otherwise perfect skin, each one a silent testament to the battles he had fought, adding a rugged allure to his otherwise pristine beauty.

His dark hair usually slicked back with meticulous precision, was now disheveled from the water and the heat of your body. Strands of it clung to his forehead, damp and wild, casting shadows over his piercing gray eyes. Those eyes—once cold and emotionless—now burned with intensity. There was a depth in them that you hadn’t seen before, a flicker of something raw, something primal, as they roamed over your body, taking in every quiver, every tremble of pleasure he drew from you.

His lips, pale and thin, were pressed into a hard line as he fought to keep control, but the flush of color creeping up his neck betrayed him. His breath came in ragged pants now, heavy and uneven, the tension in his jaw showing how hard he was holding back. Yet despite the restraint in his expression, his body told a different story. His muscles were taut, veins bulging down his arms as he gripped you, holding you up with an ease that made you feel impossibly small in his grasp.

His thighs, powerful and thick, flexed with each thrust, driving his hips into yours with a relentless rhythm that shook the glass door behind you. Every inch of him was perfection, sculpted and lethal, his body a weapon of control and desire. His cock—thick, veined, and still pulsing inside you—felt like it was made to stretch you to your limits, the head hitting deep against your cervix with every powerful thrust. It curved slightly upward, veins running along its thick length, its heavy weight filling you.

His hands, calloused yet elegant, gripped your thighs tightly, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he held you against the glass, shaking the very structure with the force of his need. His pale skin, wet from the shower and slick with sweat, gleamed under the dim light, making him look almost ethereal like some dark angel sent to break you. Yet for all the perfection in his form, it was the small cracks in his facade that made him irresistible—the flush on his cheeks, the subtle twitch of his lips as he struggled to keep control, and the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him.

Chrollo was an enigma—a perfect blend of beauty and danger, control and chaos. As his hips drove into you, as his cock stretched you open, it felt like he wasn’t just fucking you—he was consuming you, body and soul. 

Unbeknownst to you, the atmosphere between you shifted. Chrollo’s quiet intensity was morphing into something far more dangerous, more consuming. He had been slowly releasing his bloodlust, the dark, primal energy that he kept so carefully locked away, letting it seep into the air around you, winding tighter and tighter. That unrelenting grip, those vicious thrusts—all of it carried the weight of the hunger he had been holding back. And now, he was letting it loose on you, intensifying every touch, every thrust, making your body quake with an overwhelming surge of pleasure mixed with fear.

His gaze, once icy and detached, was now wild, unhinged like he had finally given in to the madness swirling in his chest. You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved, yanking you down from the glass, flipping you over so quickly your world spun. Your body was slammed down onto the cold tile floor, your face pressed against the wet surface, your ass raised high for him. The hard tile bit into your skin, but that pain was nothing compared to the sheer force with which he took you.

"Chrollo…!" you cried out, voice breaking as his cock drove back into you, filling you with a brutal intensity that made your body arch in response. “Please—ah! I can’t—!” Your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as he thrust deeper, harder, slamming into you like he was trying to break you.

His hands gripped your hips tight, fingers digging so hard into your flesh you were sure he’d leave bruises, but the way he was fucking you, the way he was completely losing control, made you forget about everything else. All you could feel was him—his cock stretching you, filling you, the thick length dragging along every sensitive spot inside you, forcing wave after wave of pleasure to crash over you.

The atmosphere around you grew heavier as if the very air was thickening with an oppressive force. You could feel it—the surge of Chrollo’s Nen, leaking out of him uncontrollably, intertwining with yours. It was suffocating, pulling you into an emotional maelstrom as his aura pressed down on you, its weight forcing submission, forcing surrender. Every movement, every thrust became not just a physical act but a spiritual one, his essence penetrating you deeper than you thought possible.

His silence was deafening. There were no more commands, no words at all—just the frantic, almost desperate way he was fucking you. His grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your skin, and you knew he was unraveling.

Your face was crushed against the cold, wet tile, and all you could hear was the steady crackle of it shattering beneath the intensity of his thrusts. Each violent slam of his hips echoed through your entire body, the sound of the breaking tiles mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding. His cock was relentless, stretching you, filling you to the point of madness, the slick squelch of it plunging into your soaked pussy resonating through the room, the kind of sound you swore Shalnark could hear down the hall.

His thrusts were so brutal, so animalistic, that the glass door of the shower shook violently, rattling in its frame with every slam of his hips. You were sure it would shatter under the force of him, but you couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you—huge, thick, and unforgiving. Every inch of him was pulsing, throbbing, pushing you to the edge, over and over again, until you were lost in a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

Your body betrayed you. You had already lost count of how many times you came, the sheer force of it each time tearing a scream from your throat. Your legs shook uncontrollably, barely able to support you as your body was wracked with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him as you shattered again and again, completely at his mercy.

But then something changed. His thrusts became erratic, and wild, as if he was losing control. You couldn’t see him—your face was pressed too hard into the floor—but you could feel it. The raw, frantic energy that was consuming him, making him shake, making his aura explode around you. It was like he was breaking apart, piece by piece, and as his thrusts became more violent, you felt something wet hit your back—not water from the shower, but something warmer, something more human.

He was crying.

Silent, desperate tears that spilled onto your skin as he drove into you with a force that felt like it was tearing him apart. His body shook, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as he fucked you harder, faster like he was trying to purge every emotion, every fragment of grief, anger, and despair that had been buried deep inside him.

His hands were trembling now, still gripping your hips with bruising force, but there was no control anymore—just pure, unfiltered need. He was an animal, his aura swirling chaotically, enveloping you both in a whirlwind of intense emotion, his spiritual energy mingling with yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

The cracking tiles beneath you splintered further, breaking under the sheer force of him slamming into you, your body a trembling mess as another orgasm tore through you. Your cunt clenched around him uncontrollably, your cries echoing in the small space as you felt your aura give way, bending completely to his overwhelming power.

His body was magnificent—every muscle in his back and arms rippling with tension, veins bulging under his pale skin as sweat and water dripped from him, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, the strands falling messily over his furrowed brow, but his eyes—those usually cold, calculating eyes—were broken now, overflowing with something raw, something vulnerable.

The tears kept coming, mixing with the water as he pounded into you, his cock throbbing inside your soaked, swollen cunt, stretching you beyond your limits. His jaw was clenched tight, lips pressed into a thin line, but you could feel the silent sobs wracking through him as he gave in, completely losing himself in you.

You could barely speak, barely breathe, the intensity of his aura crushing you, forcing you to take everything he had—every emotion, every thrust, every ounce of grief that was pouring out of him. You came again, your body convulsing as his Nen washed over you, the sheer force of it pushing you beyond the edge, making your entire being tremble with the overwhelming ecstasy of it all.

His cock twitched violently inside you, and with one final, brutal thrust, he let go—completely. His aura exploded around you, suffocating, consuming, as his body convulsed, and he came deep inside you, filling you with a hot rush that seemed to burn through your entire core. You cried out, your voice broken and raw, your hands gripping the shattered tiles beneath you as he spilled himself into you, his body trembling uncontrollably, the last remnants of his control slipping away.

Chrollo’s head dipped close to your cheek, his breath labored and uneven. You felt the wet warmth of his tears, pure and unchecked, streaming down his face, mingling with the sweat and water. He pressed his pelvis hard against you, his cock still buried deep inside, as his body shook with the overwhelming combination of pleasure and grief. "Fuck... I didn’t know it could feel like this," he muttered hoarsely, tears falling faster as he cursed himself for not doing this sooner. Your swollen cunt, so tight and soaked, gripped him like nothing else, and the pain of his loss only heightened the pleasure.

Both of you slumped on the floor, bodies spent and battered, as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your vision fading into white. Yet even in that haze, you felt the soft press of his lips on your forehead, his inky black hair falling over his intense, sorrowful gray eyes, and the cross that was etched into his temple. Your ass burned from the groping, the slaps—red and tender from the roughness of his touch.

"We should have done this sooner," he chuckled lightly, his voice soft as he checked over you with a tenderness that felt almost foreign after what had just happened. His thumb gently stroked your sensitive clit as he pulled out, offering a soothing touch despite how completely wrecked you were. And then, as you lay there, utterly spent, his quiet laugh made your heart flutter, the faintest spark of life in the aftermath of your shared devastation. You had given him something, even if just for a fleeting moment—a solace that ran deeper than words could express.

Your head turned weakly over your shoulder, and you were met with his lips, soft yet firm as they captured yours in a brief, gentle kiss. "My sweet girl…" he whispered, his voice laden with a mix of affection and exhaustion.

Extra <3:

Shalnark barely glanced up, but the moment he caught sight of you, he raised an eyebrow, his expression deceptively serious.

"Whoa," he said, spinning around in his chair to face you fully. "You okay? That shakiness isn’t normal. We should probably get you to a hospital."

Your cheeks burned, and you shot him a look. "I’m fine," you grumbled, trying to sound more composed than you felt, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Shalnark, of course, wasn’t fooled. His lips twitched, holding back a grin. "Uh-huh," he nodded sagely. "Sure you are." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "But, you know, if you start feeling faint or anything, just let me know. I’ve got connections with a great nurse!"

You couldn’t help but glare at him, though deep down you knew he was just messing with you—probably having the time of his life after what he undoubtedly overheard and felt...

© eyesofbong / Do not plagiarize my work. If you see this content on any account that is not mine, please report it.

[kurokawaia]

❛ DOLL ❜

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer X Fem!Reader

| YANDERE CONTENT |

WC; 1.5k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: yandere! x fem!reader, implied noncon into dubcon, stalking, kidnapping, discrete kidnapping, bruising, abuse, cuts, blood? manipulation, nsfw, smut, piv, cervix kissing, hickies, creampie?, no protection, mention of kids, mention of pregnancy, breeding + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: chrollo kidnap's you and he makes you into his perfect little doll. he does horrible things to you, marking you up as his whether is hickies, cuts or bruises, during sex or not. maybe he even takes your nen ability away and renders you useless, manipulating you

m.list | hxh m.list

You weren't strong, you wouldn't say that you were strong but your sweet words and gentle personality were enough to catch the eyes of Chrollo.

Your room has been meticulously crafted for you, you always sat in the centre of your, your and Chrollo's shared bed, knees pulled to your chest as your entire body was littered with bruises.

Your life was once colorful, filled with joy; it became a memory you would never be able to catch up with again. Now, the silence that is only broken by the floorboards is replaced by Chrollo's sweet or condescending whispers into your ear.

"You're too weak to be outside."

"That pretty face should be for my eyes only."

You clung to a plush pink teddy Chrollo had won for you the one time he ever took you out to a traveling fair. You were useless, your body rendered into nothing but a shell of a human being haphazardly constructed by the orders of Chrollo.

He'd never hit you physically, though there were more than enough times he would grip a section of your body too tight that it would leave a purple bruise behind. He held onto arms, wrists, shoulders, and legs and hips with a waist, every single part of your body.

Then he'd appease you that same evening, singing to you just how sorry he'd be even if you knew he wasn't. He would be amused by your state, although he wouldn't show it—you could just tell the way that he looked at you.

It is so loving to see the welling-up of those tears within your lash line and how your bottom lip would tremble, smirking at the sight of you pushing down the want to let out your hot tears. Still, the only reason Chrollo loves seeing you cry is because he can soothe you.

He'd want to pull you into his arms and have you sob into his chest, your fingers and hands clenching at his suit. He would be so gentle with you, holding you tight to his chest, where an arm would wrap around your waist and another would go around your upper back so his hand could rub the back of your head.

He would smother your face with kisses then, reminding you that you couldn't leave, that you were weak and didn't belong anywhere else but with him, because the outside world had too many dangers for your weak body. He took away from you a Nen ability; now you truly had no chance to escape because he even watched your diet. So that even if you had been able to get your Nen powers back, your body would collapse under its overwhelming force. "You're looking rather fragile today," he says, his voice playful as he stoops down to your level. His fingers delicately outline the bruise on your arm, one he formed when you begged to take a walk. "It's almost as if you need me to protect you from the outside world. You're so easy to hurt."

You flinch out of instinct from his touch, the fingers a stinging rose on your purpling skin. For a brief moment, Chrollo's eyes soften, but the smile is cold and rational. "You know, if you were outside, unprotected and vulnerable, you would not live out a day. Just not cut out for what the world throws at you."

His words are twisted to be of a reassuring nature, meant to keep you dependent on him. The freedom you once held so dear is now a memory, torn from you deliberately bit by bit. Chrollo has made sure that you can neither fight back nor flee.

"You should be grateful," he continues, his voice a soft, sinister murmur. "I'm the only one who can keep you safe from the dangers outside these walls. Without me, you're nothing. Fragile, delicate."

He rises from his seat, his eyes running over you thinly. Bruises and cuts map your body, evidence of how tight, how unyielding his hold on you really is, even though he would never outright hurt you.

"Stay with me," Chrollo murmurs in a low, pleading tone. "You do not need anyone else. You are just prey out there. Here, with me, you are safe. You are treasured."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushed against your skin—that was possessive. "Say it with me: no one else will be able to protect you like I can. No one else ever will care about you the way I do."

He straightened up then stepped back, but his eyes didn't leave yours.

Chrollo said he never hurts you, but that's all he does, and yet you're starting to lose your correct thoughts. Starting to think maybe what Chrollo does is normal. "Oh, darling," he coos as tears are falling down your face, you hadn't even noticed that the tears begin to fall.

"Let me take care of you, make you feel better," he continues, and your body falls flat against the mattress, your hands now falling by your head as he holds them down and your eyes widen.

"W-What?" you manage to barely speak out, your bottom lip trembling. You knew what was coming but you didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Hush," he sings, spreading layers of hot and heavy kisses across your bare neck and shoulder, dipping back and repeating, "I know you're scared, but I'm here."

You're scared of him, not the outside world.

But your mind and soul are forgetting what it feels like to be true.

"You're mine," he whispered, the breath scorching your skin as his lips made good, solid bites and hickeys down your body, ignoring the yelps and pained mewls that left your plump lips. "Only mine."

A chill ran down your spine as his words emerged, yet a twisted thrill surged through you. His obsession over you was so palpable, almost suffocating, yet it drew you to him like a moth to flame.

And as he came, his lips inches from yours, you knew your resolve was utterly useless. No other vacancy can there be inside the realm of Chrollo except for his lusts, and you were utterly ensnared helpless allowed into his kingdom of dark and lust.

Chrollo catches your hand right before you make contact with his chest and brings it up to his neck. He closes the remaining space between us, chest to chest, and kisses you, making you forget.

You forget everything he's done to you because he makes love to you so sweetly.

You forget how he gives you bruises.

The cuts.

Forgetting how he marks you all over your body so everyone knows that you're his.

He lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The new position has his cock nearly lined up perfectly where your spongey, gummy spot was, but he moves before you can lose your mind enough to take advantage. We fell down to the bed, inciting an out-of-breath huff from your throats.

"See, you love this," Chrollo hums, his cock resting snugly in your walls and you mewl in response. "You're so pretty like this, darling."

"S-Stop," you moan out, your words contradicting your body.

"Darling," he hums, cupping your face with one hand. "It's alright, you can have anything you want and I'm here for you."

But this isn't what you wanted, right?

He cups your breasts, but he doesn’t linger long before he slides down your body and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below your belly button. Content sighs left your mouth as your hands entangled in his hair.

You come so hard, it feels like every system is shutting down. It’s as if that orgasm took his edge off because he takes his time now, dragging his mouth over your stomach, kissing the curves of your breasts. It wasn't too long before his own cum spills inside your pussy, a white ring forming around the base of his cock, his and your own cum mixed in.

He loves how you clench around his length, you say you don't want him, but the way you milk him dry would say otherwise. You cum just from having his length snug inside your cunt and the feeling of his dangerous kisses covering your body.

"You did so well, love," he praises, cupping my face once more, kissing away more tears. "So good for me."

Pulling out slowly, Chrollo spreads your legs, admiring the cum that slips from your cute pussy and he momentarily frowns. "No, this isn't going to do," he hums to himself and your eyes widen in worry of what was going to happen. 

You were so unsure of what Chrollo was thinking, but your thoughts were answered when he entered his length back snug into your cunt and you let a whimper leave your throat in overstimulation. 

"It's okay," he reassures, putting his weight on you before readjusting your position, now you were spooning each other, your frame in front of his while he kept his cock all nice and warm in you. 

An occasional shiver radiated from your body and Chrollo's grip would tighten on you, more bruises forming on your body. His aim was to have you pregnant, to fill you with his seed and breed your cunt, wanting to see your belly swell with his child and watch you struggle even more when you're with a child. 

He knows you'd have to be even more careful 

and therefore 

more obedient. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | hxh m.list

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”