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My Husband and His Family - Prologue

Yandere!Illumi X Reader

Summary: You were kidnapped and forced into a marriage with Illumi Zoldyck. It’s not just him that’s crazy about you.

Notes: zoldyck family members are platonic yanderes! illumi is the only romantic yandere. im so sorry this is short — i really wanted to post this before i lose motivation <333

Word Count: 1152

Kikyo Zoldyck was fond of you as her daughter-in-law and that much was undeniable.

It showed in the way she sought you out, in the way her attention settled on you so naturally, as though your presence had already become something essential within the household. But there was something about it that felt too much. She was too constant, too aware. Her fondness was not distant or polite; it was close, attentive in a way that left little room for privacy, her interest in you stretching into spaces that should have been yours alone.

It had started the morning after your wedding.

Illumi had already left before you had properly woken, his absence marked only by the faint disturbance of the sheets beside you and the lingering awareness of him that you tried not to dwell on. You had still been lying there, your body slow to recover with exhaustion weighing heavily on you as you tried to gather yourself, when the door had opened without warning.

There had been no knock or an announcement as the servants usually do. Except only the quiet, deliberate sound of someone entering as though they had every right to be there.

You had barely managed to pull the thin sheets over your nude body, your movements uncoordinated in your haste and the fabric doing little to preserve any sense of modesty. The need to cover yourself was instinctive but it was ultimately pointless. Kikyo had seen you all and bear. She had not looked away.

Her gaze was sharp and lingering, taking in the sight of you with an ease that made your skin feel uncomfortably warm. There had been no apology or an attempt to give you space, only a pleased sort of grin that settled on her lips like she had found exactly what she had been looking for.

A maid had stepped forward then, placing a sheet of paper into your hands with practiced precision, her movements quiet and efficient as though this were something entirely routine. Like it was normal to enter a newly wedded couple’s bedchambers at four in the morning.

You had taken it after forcing yourself to break eye contact with Kikyo, your attention now drawn to the precise writing that filled the page. It had taken a moment for your mind to catch up and for the meaning of it to settle into place as your eyes moved across the lines.

It was a schedule. Every hour of your day accounted for and arranged in a way that left no room for question. At first, it had not seemed entirely unusual until you noticed the pattern. Your gaze slowed as something uneasy began to take shape in the back of your mind.

The time you were to spend with Illumi had been clearly marked and labelled. But what unsettled you more was everything else. All the remaining hours, the ones that should have belonged to you were not empty. They had been filled with the remaining Zoldyck names.

And as your grip on the paper tightened ever so slightly with your eyes lifting back toward Kikyo, it became painfully clear that those moments had never been yours to begin with. They belonged to them. To her.

You had smiled, it did not stay for long. You thanked her, appreciating it greatly that she had taken time out of her day to do this for someone like you.

You had folded the paper neatly as she laughed in response, her reply falling deaf on your ears as you pretended nothing about this situation had unsettled you. It had been easier that way, safer to fall into the role expected of you rather than question something that had already been decided.

Days passed before you brought it up to Illumi.

Not immediately. You had learned, quickly, that there were moments more suited for speaking than others. It was not something you could explain, only something you had come to understand through careful observation.

So you waited, your body still tense, acutely aware of every lingering sensation you had yet to recover from because of Illumi’s mannerisms in bed. The discomfort had not dulled — not yet — and it settled into you in a way that made it difficult to ignore, a persistent reminder of something you were expected to endure rather than question. You focused on the warm liquid oozing down your legs instead, on grounding yourself in something tangible, it was something easier to process than the quiet presence beside you.

You had opened your mouth to speak, the words forming slowly and hesitantly but the movement of Illumi’s fingers stilled you before you could say anything at all. His touch between your legs was cool, entirely unhurried as it gathered his own remains down your legs and shoved it back inside you. You felt your toes curl involuntarily, discomfort and pain settling deeper beneath your skin as you tried not to focus on his nails scratching your insides. But he did not pause, did not so much as glance at you as he continued.

He didn’t need to explain. You understood.

But when you finally spoke, your voice had been quieter than you intended, a slight hesitation betraying you despite your efforts to remain composed.

“Illumi,” you started, your fingers tightening slightly against the sheets beneath you, “did you know your mother made a schedule for me?”

There was a brief pause, subtle but noticeable, before he responded. His fingers continued jabbing his fluid inside your body.

“Yes.”

The answer came easily, without hesitation, his tone as even as ever.

For a moment, you weren’t sure what to say. The simplicity of it left little room for misunderstanding, settling heavily in the silence that followed.

“You knew?” you asked again, softer this time. Your attention had already moved away from his hands.

“I approved it.”

Your breath caught slightly, the words sinking in slower than they should have, as though your mind resisted fully processing them.

“It will make things easier,” he continued, his gaze shifting toward you only briefly before drifting away again, his attention back onto his task between your thighs. “Mother enjoys your company. There is no reason to prevent that.”

No reason.

You swallowed, your throat dry, something tight settling uncomfortably in your chest. It was said so simply, so reasonably, as though your time and your presence had always been something to be arranged rather than something you had any claim over.

As though it had never belonged to you at all.

“I see,” you managed, though the words felt hollow even as you said them.

Illumi gave a small absent hum in response, wiping his fingers with a cloth. He had already finished with the conversation before you had fully processed it.

And just like that, it was over. As though it had never been yours to question in the first place.