#chrolloxreader

tw- religion mentions , oral female receiving, spanks, petnames (please tell me if im missing anything)  18+

creds to my clout chasing bff 

General Disclaimer: I will do my best to keep the reader gender neutral and physically unspecific unless otherwise stated! The reader will be kept as realistic as possible but remember, it’s all subjective! Not everyone struggles with the same issues and this is a one person blog, so I really just have myself to try and make the reader relate to you! With that, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Angsty themes, lime, unrequited crush, all these characters have issues (both internally and with each other).

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You were walking through the city with your new friend Kurapika. You had only met him a few weeks ago, but the two of you had already gotten close. The number one part about him that you had trouble with when talking to him was his life goal; to avenge his clan by eliminating the Phantom Troupe. Most people probably see his goal as honorable and heart-wrenching, providing their full support to him, but you couldn’t. Shortly before meeting Kurapika, you met Chrollo, the leader of the infamous troupe. There was an instant connection, for him being a master thief, you stole his heart easily, as he did the same to you. This led the two of you to spend as much time together as possible before Chrollo would inevitably leave for an unknown amount of time. He made you feel special, showering you with love, so did him being a mass murderer really matter? You knew it was wrong, but him being in your life felt right. Of course, you would never tell Kurapika this. He would flip out. You were sympathetic towards Kurapika and didn’t mean any harm to him, you just wanted to be there for him. Conversations with him could sometimes grow complicated as you had to navigate around not outwardly expressing dislike towards the group Chrollo holds over his own life, but not seem suspicious to Kurapika. In the kindness you had given to Kurapika, he trusted you far quicker than even he would like, but you had proved you were a good investment to give his trust to. You had to drop by your place to pick up your card so that you and Kurapika could go to dinner. Inviting Kurapika in, you ran off farther into the house, leaving Kurapika just inside the front door. Kurapika noticed an elegant-looking ivory-colored envelope and the side table by the door that read ‘Y/n’ in cursive. Out of curiosity, he picked up the envelope and opened it. When he took out the contents, he was astonished to find that it seemed to be a romantic poem, very worn looking as if it was from the 1600s. He proceeded to keep opening the letter, which was almost sickeningly romantic, but Kurapika was compelled to keep reading. You had never mentioned any secret admirer or romantic partner, so why would the letter be in your house untouched? Once he reached the end, his stomach dropped. The name signed at the bottom was Chrollo. Kurapika felt sick and dizzy. Why would you be receiving a love note from Chrollo? This was a cruel joke, especially as Kurapika was planning on asking you to date him tonight at dinner. Chrollo must have found out somehow and tried to woo you over himself, setting out to break his spirit. The idea seemed outlandish, but why else would it be here, unopened. As you walked back into the room and saw Kurapika with the letter in hand, you were puzzled

“Um, what do you have Kurapika?”

“A letter. I didn’t realize that the man who took away everything I loved also wanted you.”

Your eyes stared at the floor. You weren’t sure what to say. It was clear he had found out what was going on between Chrollo and you.

“Well um, Kurapika, I-”

“He really has set out on destroying everything I hold dear. But I’ll get my revenge. Come on Y/n, we should get you out of here. He knows where you are and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You realized that he hadn’t figured out what was truly going on. But you couldn’t let this go on. Kurapika had already started walking over to you, reaching out to grab your hand. You panicked and weren’t sure how to ruin his perception of you. Kurapika had his hand on the door handle, but suddenly the handle moved and the door opened. Kurapika moved you both back a step, keeping you behind him. Chrollo was standing in the doorway, a book in his hand. Chrollo’s face stayed blank as Kurapika flew into a rage. Kurapika had let go of your hand and lunged at Chrollo. You desperately reached for Kurapika’s hand to prevent his attack but you didn’t reach his hand in time. Luckily, Chrollo stepped out of the way as Kurapika launched outside the door. You gasped, worried that Kurapika had gotten hurt speeding outside. Chrollo glanced out the door, indifferent to the greeting he received. You saw Kurapika over Chrollo’s shoulder, his eyes ignited with scarlet and chains in his hand. As he was racing back inside of the house, Chrollo pushed the door shut. You cringed at the sound Kurapika made as he slammed against the door and was aggressively opening it. Meanwhile, Chrollo slinked behind you. He lifted his right arm to press it against your eyes and push your head back. He connected his lips to your neck and pressed soft kisses down your neck to your collarbone. You heard the door open harshly, but couldn’t do a thing.

“Chrollo! Let her go!”

Chrollo moved his eyes from you, making eye contact with Kurapika.

“Why? I’m sure she enjoys this. What gives you a right to her heart? She loves me.”

The worst part about listening to this was Chrollo saw him as nothing. He was instigating conflict with Kurapika but could care less about the outcome. Chrollo planted a deep kiss on your neck but kept his eyes on Kurapika’s. All you could hear was the slight sound of steps and the door slam. Chrollo moved his arm from your eyes and removed his mouth from your neck. There was a warm, lingering wetness on your neck from his kiss.

“Why was he here?”

“We were going to go to dinner. I just had to stop by here and grab my card because I forgot it.”

“That’s fair. I’m glad I decided to come over.”

Why? So you could show that his new friend betrayed his trust?”

“I saved him more trouble than if you had told him. Dinner would have made things worse.”

“Why’s that?”

“He clearly likes you. But that’s probably not the case anymore.”

You were shocked. It really hadn’t hit you that Kurapika possibly had a crush on you. Chrollo took you with him to the couch, sitting you down next to him. He pulled out his book and started reading.

“Wait, you caused all this trouble because you wanted to read a book?”

“I also wanted to know if you got my letter. I hadn’t expected you to have company. But yes, I also wanted to read my book somewhere comfortable.”

He continued reading while you pondered how ridiculous Chrollo was. What a dork.

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this is part one of a series of yandere chrollo x fem!reader. this story will contain explicit content. Warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Please send me requests if you wish to for hxh characters and scenarios! ❤

PART I Read part two here!  CW: mentions of death, murder, and gore 1,730 words

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It had been many days since you had received an assignment as a hunter. At this point you would have taken a request to open a pickle jar. You had an agent who sourced your jobs through to you that way no one could know your identity. Your agent barely knows your identity outside of your phone number. While you are no where near as infamous as the Zoldyck Family- you definitely are not unknown. “The Creator” is what most people would refer to you as- quite fitting for your ability. Specialists are not as scarce as people make them out to be; a specialist who utilizes their ability as best as they can is scarce. You conjure a pencil, and you can draw anything into existence. Your nen concentrates in your hand and you can create life (or at least a husk of life). Drawing animals or weapons, even humans (who aren’t quite sentient) earned you your high respect as a hunter.

You gaze out of the window at the quiet streets of a city you’ve never travelled to. While the hotel is large and towers over the town, it is probably the biggest building for miles. Bzzzz. You turn towards your bed and see your phone screen is lit up. Picking up the phone you see a single message from the only saved number on your phone.  York New. 14:00. 1278 Pearl Street. G Watanabe- Room 207.  You scroll down to see the status of the person. Alive. Wanted Dead. 7 Days. Employer ---

A smile graced your lips knowing that you finally have a job. While town hopping and sight seeing for the past few weeks was a nice rst, you can’t just halt your income. You enjoy your job anyway so the money is a bonus. Ill pack in the morning you think to yourself, once you land in York New you may have some extra time to research your target. 

The plane ride was smooth and quite comforting- you paid for first class. While you could use your hunter card to be priority seating, it leaves a trace of where you’ve been. Plus, you’ll be getting paid soon enough and the 12 hour plane ride in first class would be nothing compared to the fat check that would be wired to your account. Murder is expensive you know. 

Stepping out of the taxi, the driver gets out and opens the trunk for you. You grab your one small backpack filled with nothing but snacks- drawn snacks are not particularly tasty. Just because you can create it doesn’t mean it’s true to the real deal. You jog towards the doors, fat rain drops assaulting you meanwhile. You get your room key under for the room you reserved under an alias and make your way to the elevator. You press the button to go up and when the elevator reaches your floor it sounds a satisfying ‘ding’ and the doors open almost soundlessly. You stepped into the confined space and to your surprise a man steps in with you. You hadn’t even sensed him nearby, it seemed as if he just popped into reality. 

He’s tall, is the first thing you think when you look at him. Not necessarily tall as in feet wise (though he definitely had quite a few inches on you) but his aura and the way he carried himself made it seem as if he towered you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and suddenly he doesn’t seem so intimidating. It’s as if he was dragged back down to earth. 

“Good morning, awful weather it seems.” The man says with a chuckle. You take a moment to drink in all of him. His black hair is somewhat messy, a middle part with water dripping down a few strands. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead and you wonder if it’s an injury or a fashion statement. A large fur coat cover most of his body, you’re only able to capture a glimpse of a white button up shirt at his neck. 

“Terrible. My flight almost had an emergency landing.” You groan, recalling your annoyance when the captain announced this over the speakers.

“Ah so you just got in today? I got into York New about a week ago. What are you here for?” 

Your eyes travel to his and you notice that they’re unusually large while seeming to only make him more attractive. “I’m on a work trip, though I shouldn’t be here long.”  His lips stretch a little further into something of a grin, “What a coincidence, I’m here on business as well.” 

The elevator dings and you give a quick goodbye, not necessarily because you didn’t like talking to him but because you wanted to take a nice warm shower. You sashay out of the elevator, and the back of your neck tingles, you can tell that his eyes are boring into your back.

You drop your bag onto your bed and wander over to the mirror. Looking at you in the mirror is yourself. Though you never seem to recognize this person as you. You pose in different angles but can’t find one that makes you like yourself. You grab the chub of your stomach and groan hopelessly. A world renown hunter who has killed the unkillable is staring at herself in the mirror and grimacing. You remind yourself that you’re one of the strongest specialists out there and you shouldn’t be critiquing yourself. 

A day passed and your deadline is growing nearer. You draw your outfit for the day, and put on the jeans, hoodie, and heels that were super comfortable thanks to your nen. An assassin has to look good as well as kill. Your rented car waits for you in the hotel garage and when you finally make your way down there, you do a onceover of the car. There are no signs of foul play, tracking, or marking so you hop into the drivers seat comfortably. Once the car is started your phone buzzes. 

+ $2000 to your account message attached: get his pass for the auction and send it to client

You nod to yourself, you had completely forgotten about the auction. Of course you were supposed to kill a member of the mafia during the auction. How could you not have made that connection. While you are intelligent, you wouldn’t say you’re smart. Once you arrive at the hotel your target is staying at, you book a room despite the fact you will not be using it for long. In the hotel room you draw a dress that makes you look like a model, all you need is to look good and your nen for this mission, this goes for most missions.

Each minute on the clock seems to last hours, you need to leave at 01:30, in order to complete your mission at 2. This is the part you hate the most, laying on the hotel bed listening to the clock tick and tick and tick. It feels almost like the clock is mocking you, and sometimes you want to just break it. Though despite this you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting down every minute until the clock strikes 1:30. 

The last mocking tick sound rings and you get up quickly. Walking confidently out of the room and down the large and foolishly elegant hall. You make your way to the elevators where you had a run in with that man and go down to the second floor seeing as you were residing on the fourteenth. The second floor was reserved for the mafia only, many families used this hotel to be near the auction. 

The elevator opens up and you examine the hall. It is much different than the one where your room is. Lights are dimmer and the color pallet of the hall was that of red and black where as yours was blue and white. You step out onto the marble floors and your heels click against the cold surface. Something’s not right. Something is very wrong, very out of place. You can smell it. The smell of blood. 

207 is closer to the end of the hallway than it is to the elevators. The lights are completely off at the end of the hallway as well. With each step towards the room of your target the lights get dimmer until there is no light. You halt and look at the room with gold numbers on it stating ‘207′. The door is cracked and you approach it cautiously. You push the door open and see your target laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces, it’s a bloody mess.

A man stands in front of the window that is the entire wall, his form dark. Now the only sound present is that of the rain pounding against the glass of the window. He turns towards you, and you quickly recognize the large fur jacket. It’s the man from the elevator, his coat is open and he’s shirtless, but covered in blood. His forehead is uncovered by the bandage that was on him previously, revealing a purple cross. His demeanor is still friendly and inviting but something is different about his eyes. 

He smiles and for some reason you feel drawn to him, so you take a step forward. “I’ve been waiting y/n.” 

You swallow any sense of fear you have and nod, “Oh you have?” 

“Of course, I thought I would make your job easier for you.” He chuckles just like he did in the elevator, as if he didn’t just commit an atrocity. But who are you to judge? “Don’t worry, I’ll still be paying you every jenny of what was promised.” 

Your head cocks to the side “So you’re my client?” He nods in response. 

“And I got his pass to the auction so I would say you did a pretty good job of completing your mission.” He waves the pass at you as proof. 

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name since you know mine?” You question.

He nods again, “Chrollo is my name. You were commissioned by the spiders.” 

The spiders... It quickly clicks in your head. The phantom troupe. Which means, in front of you stands the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

Chrollo x reader

Tagging: @hisoknen @hunniehunterb093

Tw: blood , minpulative behavior, toxic relationship

The yellowed pages of distant pasts are all you know. It lives, bounded in old leather and string, falling apart at the seams, lining the hardwood shelves that surround the empty space, covered in inches of dirt, grime and the hidden secrets of men laid buried under the library.

You kiss their cracking spines and tend to their fading words, committing each disappearing story to your memory. It is your duty, it is your role to play in the grand scheme of the world, insignificant as you are; but the chains bind and blood ties, so you repeat your careful motions every day in careful remembrance of old men gone and past.

There is an emptiness that haunts the place, unseen but felt as you climbed the towers of your home, bathed in candlelight and smothered in burning oil, casting long stretching shadows that endlessly creep through your steps, they are your only friends and their presence is all you know.

As it is written:

The keeper of words will stay and guard, for the world will never see these secrets again.

…..

And so the story goes, time turning like the swirls of a whirlpool, unchanging and uneventful as you flood your mind with forgotten words and sacred hymns in the quietness of the library.

Until one day it doesn’t.

For out of your shadow, a human emerges, dark as midnight, with eyes that shone like liquid silver.

And everything changes.

…..

The man speaks a different language you’ve never known (you know everything), he sings an unfamiliar tune (one that makes you want to scream), in all your years of tending to your alcove of knowledge, he is the first to introduce you to human touch.

He isn’t supposed to be here. No one is.

Despite your vows, you let him pillage your collection of secrets and spread them bare across the floor. As he pours into them, voraciously tearing through sacred texts with all the intensity of a mad men, violating every last code that has been seared into your being.

Those ancient promises creep across your skin, glowing faintly as they continue to strangle you into submission.

You meet his gaze, just once, and the tingling fades to the back of your mind.

It continues to crawl all over your body as you lead him through the labyrinth of shelves, destroying what little sense of self you possess, exposing all you are to him.

He is as dark as your shadows and shines like the light from your candle, the mark across his forehead etched permanently into his skin. He doesn’t flinch when you try clawing it off.

If your books could speak, you hope they would sound like him.

So you let him stay.

…..

He is searching for something.

His hands desperately pillage your collection, nimble fingers combing through shelves with careful precision as his eyes wonder endless through the sum of all your books, unseen said purpose shining through his eyes.

Once, he notices the scribbles coded into your skin, eyeing the way they shine in the darkness, binding you to the tower with ancient secrets too old for even the earth to remember. His fingers trace the smooth curve of your shoulder blades and the poking exterior of your ribcage, gentle and delicate unlike everything you’ve ever experience as his hands continue to explore your body, dancing all over you like fluttering flames.

He’s alive, in ways that burn your skin and set your chest aflame with forgotten memories of starlit skies and cobblestone streets, and somewhere inside, your heart lets out an involuntary beat.

His hand rests on your chest, right where you heart is, each subsequent thump releasing an earth shattering shake in your once empty chest, and for the first time, he’s standing at full height, and you’re forced to look up and see the man who gave you life.

You take his hand. They warm your frail hands in ways rolls of ancient parchment can’t, and the way he returns your touch reminds you of old feelings you never knew you had.

And so you plunged his hand into your chest and ignore the way the inky blackness that falls out of the hole suffocates you.

…..

The hole hides a special collection, something where not even you are allowed to see.

You’re not sure how you know this either, no one has ever told you so.

It contains just one book, marked by black hand print on its cover, lined with unknown words that evade your understanding.

The man picks it up, and his form shimmers, and just briefly you see a mountains of filth with living corpses crawling all around and the heat is just unbearable as it burns your face, and for just a second, your man is a boy and you know him-you know him-you know him-

“I know you.”

He smiles.

…..

There is a book you once read, one not possessed by the tower.

It tells you of stars that dot the skies and worlds of colors and light, where others, who weren’t confined to the pages of truth lived freely under the sun, unconfined by the curve brick walls that protect your guarded secrets and keep you trapped in that black void, deigned to forever keep

But that man appeared, teared all those walls down, and gave you a heart in exchange for all the knowledge and power that only demons could possess, filled with untold wishes and shimmering powers that only existed in dreams.

The tower crumbles, brick and wretched brick it dissipates as it falls to the ground in soundless heaps as the books of old evaporate right before your very eyes, revealing a starlit night sky that shone with ever-changing seasons with each blink of the eye, a continuous cycle of circling planets brushing past as each gasping breath forces its way past your throat and it’s more beautiful than anything you could ever imagine existing beyond the confinement of your cage.

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Pairing: Chrollo/Reader

Warning: Implied nsfw.

Hundreds of bodies mingle under crystal chandeliers, and the hands on your waist change with the song. Shoes click against the checkered mocha tile, only to be drowned out by aimless chatter and soft laughs. Champagne flutes fly across the ballroom like birds. Someone, you’re not sure who (nor do you really care), tries to snag your attention as the song changes, but as soon as your eyes meet gray ones across the room—the game changes. Everybody loses.

You’re over there before you know it, strutting on the titled floor with a mischievous quirk of your lips. The aimless chatter and clinking shoes dissipates, fading slowly like a wave rubbing against sand as he meets you halfway, legs long and clad in familiar black pants. Caressing your skin with playful fingers, the air trails a shiver up your spine, watching the mischievous grin that doesn’t leave your lips.

“So Yorknew loses a jewel in its crown now, hm, Chrollo?” The words fall from your lips, but he catches them when his lips kiss the back of your hand.

“Only as much as it needs to lose,” he says, standing up straight. Gray eyes locking with yours, the usual calm that blankets over his irises is gone, replaced by something alive, something that moves around just enough, something that’s not fire, not yet, anyway.

“Or as much as you’re willing to take.”

The smile that takes his lips should worry you, should set off bells in your head, should cause you to stiffen. Should being the keyword.

Enveloping your hand in his own—calloused and relaxed—he leads you through a complicated dance, feet automatically moving through the steps. His other hand melds to the side of your waist, and it’s a comfortable feeling, much more comfortable than the other dance partners you’ve had tonight; then again, it’s Chrollo. A tempting thought sneaks across the bridge of your mind, and you’d be lying if you said that you wanted his hand only on your waist tonight.

He notices the glaze that starts to swim in your eyes.

Moving his lips next to your ear, little puffs of his breath flirt with the shell of your ear. “And you’re willing to stand by while that happens?”

He doesn’t have to pull back to see the exhilarated look in your eyes—the look he’s seen before when you flirt with something thrilling, something that gets your heart going.

Picking and choosing your words carefully (because the first one to slip up loses the game, that’s how it’s always been between you two), you maneuver around—through all the complicated steps of the dance, dips and all—so that your lips are next to his ear, and your hair ghosts along his smooth cheek. “Well, Yorknew would be a much more exciting place, then. Wouldn’t it?”

You pull back, seeing the satisfied raise of his lips and curve of his eyes.

“Would you care to appreciate the view of Yorknew from the top floor?”

That’s definitely not what he’s asking.

“Let’s.”

And you let him lead you away as he always does.

General Disclaimer: I will do my best to keep the reader gender neutral and physically unspecific unless otherwise stated! The reader will be kept as realistic as possible but remember, it’s all subjective! Not everyone struggles with the same issues and this is a one person blog, so I really just have myself to try and make the reader relate to you! With that, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: None

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You got home from work, relief flooding your senses as you entered your space. Your eyes scanned the room and noticed Chrollo sitting on your couch.

“How’d you get in this time? I still keep forgetting to get a set of keys for you.”

Chrollo stood up and sauntered over to you.

“I just went in through the back door. You left it unlocked again.”

You were uneasy with the fact about your back door being left unlocked all day but that wasn't your focus right now. You shuffled over to him and asked for his hand. He nodded and put your hand in his. The two of you settled down on the couch and as you moved closer to him, you asked,

“Could I please have some cuddles?”

He peered at you from the corner of his eye. You could only assume he was probably questioning your request. But you really couldn’t tell. Reading Chrollo’s emotions was like playing a sport that you never learned the rules to. So you weren’t sure what he would say next. Not that he’s ever said no, but perhaps he wouldn’t be in the mood this time.

“Yes.”

You gave him a beaming smile as he took off his jacket and draped it over the front of you. You shifted your body and laid a hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Thank you. Today’s just been hard and I wanted to do something relaxing.”

“Laying on me is relaxing?” he chuckled.

“You know what I mean! I want comfort!”

“Hmm,” he said plainly. He didn’t understand the feeling whatsoever, but he liked you so he was willing to indulge your emotions. However, what he did know was what you wanted to hear as he held you in his arms.

“I’ll make you feel like you’re the most loved person in the world as long as we're together.”

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General Disclaimer: I will do my best to keep the reader gender neutral and physically unspecific unless otherwise stated! The reader will be kept as realistic as possible but remember, it’s all subjective! Not everyone struggles with the same issues and this is a one person blog, so I really just have myself to try and make the reader relate to you! With that, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Non-consensual cuddling, angst

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There was a man who kept staring at you on the subway. He made you feel a bit unnerved and, with all the drunk, loud passengers bumping into you and not much space to stand pleasantly, the situation was uncomfortable. He seemed out of place but it wasn’t because of his physicality. Almost everyone there had come from some concert and looked wild themselves. This man had a fur-lined trench coat, a shirt with gray stripes, a pair of matching pants, blue earrings that somehow stayed on, a cross on his forehead, and slicked-back hair. The actual oddness about him was how he was acting. He was calm, composed, and still staring at you. You finished making your observations and, as if on cue, he started to approach. You immediately felt your heart rate rise.

“Hello.”-he said with a small smile-“I was curious if you would like assistance. You look to be in a bit of a predicament”

You debated your options. ‘I could accept this guy’s help but also he’s, y’know, a stranger.’

“No thank you, I’m okay.”

He knew you were just rejecting his aid, you were clearly having trouble. But he was a stranger after all, so he didn’t blame you for being nervous.

“Really? You appear to be struggling.”

You thought about it again. Who were you to refuse help from a stranger? He sounded trustworthy enough.

“You’re right. Thank you for the help.”

His hand was outstretched and you hesitantly grabbed it. There wasn’t much room for anything other than you two to link so he pulled you through. You bumped into people as he dragged you out of the small crowd but they were too preoccupied to care. He led you to a less chaotic spot and grabbed the only overhead handle that was left. You let go of his hand and frantically decided how you were going to hold onto him. However, he chose for you. He placed your hands on his shoulders. Then, he rested your head on his chest and wrapped an arm around you. You were a bit flustered that this random guy decided to get particularly close to you for the sake of “helping you stand up”. Despite the nerve-wracking circumstances, you started to relax. You paid attention to the sound of his heart, ignoring the background noise from the crowd. He sounded tranquil, like nothing fazed him. You could’ve fallen asleep from the serenity of it all. Eventually, after more stops, he started to move your arms off of you. You jumped a bit as you were yanked out of your peace.

“I’m sorry I surprised you, this is my stop.”

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. It was short-lived but you had grown just a little too attached to this stranger.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. Thank you for the help.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked out. He didn’t show any indication that the encounter affected him whatsoever. As the subway sped away, you hung your head down, saddened by the thought that you would probably never meet this mystery man again.

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