his favorite sound is the rush of your blood when you’re flustered, blossoming under your cheeks. he can’t help but kiss his way across them, over the tiny vessels begging to be popped. his dilemme d’homme is that he can no longer drink from you if you are eternally his. how easy it would be to have you eternally young and bloodless in his arms. how joyous, to have you young and eternally bloodless in his arms. how hedonist of him, to yearn for the days where he’ll not feast on you, but with you.
what kind of vampire do you think chrollover would be (he could suck all my blood and i’d be happy)
leader of a vampire hoard, hasn't left his castle in the past few centuries (electricity scares him), is upset he can't just 'go get the blood of a virgin' anymore and drink it out of a chalice like he used to without raising suspicions (doesn't stop him though), deeply upset that the textile used on his favorite shirt doesn't exist anymore, stands out in the rain during storms, sunbathes under the full moon
I was watching a YouTube video abt Vampires and I was thinking abt vampire chrollo 👹😍😩
i think chrollo was destined to be a vampire ... i think he loves acting all dramatic and moping in corridors and in front of windows when the lightning hits ... refusing to get the squeaky front door fixed ... in love with the woman trapped inside the portrait ...
Well, I'm not paralyzed
But, I seem to be struck by you
I wanna make you move
Because you're standing still.
-Paralyzer, Finger Eleven
Hisokuro vampires won my patron poll for this month, so here we go! I hope yall enjoy this. If you’d like to have a say in what I write next for my monthly patron fic pick, consider supporting me through one of the options below! It really helps me out and helps me pay my bills while creating more of the content you love.
Read on ao3 here
[Support me on Patreon] x [Commissions Page] x [ Buy Me a Coffee]
The pounding bass dominated the club in syncopated bursts, a heartbeat that refused to falter. Chrollo blinked slowly, assessing his surroundings.
This was his first time coming to this club. A recent addition to the city, it stood far from the usual streets where bars and crowds resided. Chrollo crossed his arms and pressed himself against the wall, watching the undulating bodies as they danced and touched, the scent of want, sweat, booze, and blood a thick heady perfume that enticed and disgusted in equal measure. There had to be at least a hundred people crammed in this leather and wood lined box. He was spoiled for choice in that sense.
It was just a shame the thought didn’t inspire much in him, desire or otherwise.
Chrollo sighed. The thirst was strong, but it could always be worse. Maybe he should just leave. There were bound to be options elsewhere, perhaps in a place that wasn’t quite so… populated. Clubs were the worst. They were easy hives of potential meals, but the downsides were many. He held himself a little tighter and dutifully ignored the dozen-odd eyes staring at him from around the room. It was hard to avoid attracting attention here. It might make hunting easier, but Chrollo couldn’t say he enjoyed being hunted in return.
He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and pushed away from the wall. There were too many people here who would ask him to dance if he lingered like a wallflower any longer. Of course, there were too many who’d ask him no matter where he went. He headed towards the bar, content to make his rejections sitting rather than standing.
The bartender looked his way as soon as he sat down. His question was lost in the music. Chrollo shook his head curtly, uninterested in anything they had on tap. The bar was fairly crowded but not as packed as the dance floor. Two empty seats bracketed him, providing him as much of an escape from the tempting blood as he could expect in a place like this. Chrollo rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He needed to hurry up and feed. Sooner rather than later. He could leave and ignore it for maybe a day more, but it’d be stupid to squander tonight just because he felt off.
He lowered his hand when something cool nudged his arm. Chrollo glanced down and saw a drink in front of him, and then glanced up to see the bartender jerk his head off towards the end of the bar. “For you,” he mouthed, winking cheekily. Chrollo gave him a worn out smile, nodding to him until he turned back to his work.
Great. The first admirer of the evening had shown his face. Chrollo could see how the man fidgeted in his seat as he threw furtive glances his way, no doubt desperate to see if Chrollo was interested. Such a shame. Chrollo managed a tight smile, wondering if this might just be his best bet for a quick meal and--
“Oh, someone certainly is popular,” a voice spoke in his ear. Chrollo stiffened instinctively, only relaxing when he placed it. “Such a shame you can’t enjoy it.”
“Hisoka,” Chrollo sighed, rolling his eyes as a familiar body slid into the seat next to him. “What are the chances of us meeting like this?”
He didn’t need to look to know Hisoka was smiling. “Fairly high given I’ve been following you half the night,” the other vampire crooned, his shoulder brushing Chrollo’s despite there being plenty of space between the seats. “A better question might be what are the chances of me taking you home? Fairly high too, perhaps?”
Chrollo granted him the briefest of looks. Hisoka hadn’t changed a bit since the last time they’d crossed paths. He still dressed as opulently as ever, clothing himself in the current fashion and wearing it as if he had been born into its decade. The clubwear was skin tight and eye catching. The dark burgundy of his partially unbuttoned shirt teased his chest to the open air, along with the strong line of his clavicle and throat. A quick glance down told Chrollo he was wearing tailored grey wash jeans. He’d gone all out for tonight. Unsurprising knowing him.
He made sure to take his time answering.
“I don’t think I need a ride home,” he said offhandedly, stroking his fingers through the condensation coating his untouched drink. The man down the bar was glaring; Chrollo could feel it like twin barbs of heat against the side of his head. He turned to face Hisoka a little more, blocking it out with a smile. “I haven’t been drinking tonight, so I don’t see any need for that.”
Hisoka rested his elbow on the bar, his chin cradled in his hand. His lips curved into a matching smile, only he had no compunctions about showing off his eyeteeth. They glistened in the low light of the club, just as they had glistened all those centuries ago. He leaned a little closer. “I could get you a drink,” he offered quietly, his other hand settling on Chrollo’s thigh beneath the bar. His eyes followed the movement as he squeezed. “You certainly look thirsty.”
“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” Chrollo murmured, pushing the glass away from him to focus all of his attention on Hisoka. Hisoka absolutely preened with it.
“I’ve changed plenty in the time we’ve been apart,” the vampire said with a charming little smile. “But my want for you? Never.”
Chrollo had to hand it to him; Hisoka could live a thousand years and he’d be just as smooth as the day they had met. He lifted his hand and dragged it through his hair, too thirsty to blush but still affected all the same. “If you’re looking to me for a meal, you’d be better of trying elsewhere,” he warned, staring at the watermarks ringing the wooden bar in front of him. “I’m here out of necessity. I’m not a good prospect.”
Hisoka leaned closer, catching a lock of Chrollo’s hair between his fingers to tuck it behind his ear. His lips just kissed the shell. “I think I’d still rather play with you than the humans,” he whispered, stroking Chrollo’s cheek until he deigned to look at him. “So, why don’t you let me worry about that? Come dance with me. Don’t tell me you’ve come to a club with no intention of having a little fun before you eat.”
It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? Entertaining a man like Hisoka in this way. It had gotten him into trouble all those years ago, and it was likely going to get him into trouble now. But that was Chrollo’s flaw, wasn’t it? Giving in to that voice and the promise that always lilted on Hisoka’s every word. He lifted his head and turned his cheek into the hand stroking him, letting the man cradle his face in his hand. There was no denying how nice it felt. Hisoka always did know just how to touch him to soothe the ache endemic to this existence of theirs.
“One dance,” he whispered, staring into Hisoka’s eyes. “Just so that man at the end of the bar stops staring at me.”
Hisoka glanced over his shoulder, his eyes flaring for just the briefest of seconds before he turned his attention back to Chrollo. “Of course,” he purred, pulling him from his seat. His eyes were a physical weight as they dragged down his body, taking in his outfit before he tugged him towards the dance floor.
The music took over after that. Chrollo wrinkled his nose and let Hisoka lead, coaxing him into the middle of the throng and against his firm chest. The music was so loud, the lyrics lost in the thrum. Chrollo’s thirst flared up again, burning in his throat like fire as the scent and sound filled him. He stared at Hisoka and let the man touch him. Warm hands fell to his chest, feeling the mesh of his cropped shirt, then down to his hips, fondling and squeezing and familiarizing himself with a body he hadn’t touched in God knew how long. His fingers slid smoothly along the leather. They dug in once they reached his ass.
And it felt good . The contact. The high. Hisoka’s scent felt like home for as long as it’d been since he’d last filled his lungs with it. Chrollo moved his hips on his own, grinding against Hisoka willingly, chasing the scent. Hisoka caught his hands and used his grip to spin him around, his hard, denim-covered cock nudging Chrollo’s ass in a way that felt more enticing than the blood surrounding him.
The bass pounded. Hisoka’s body dragged against Chrollo’s, his hands roaming every inch of him he could touch. Chrollo closed his eyes and surrendered to it, surrendered to the push and pull and call that had put him in Hisoka’s arms the first time, all those years ago. It was just as strong now as it had been then.
“I want you,” Hisoka crooned, his cool lips finding the crook of his neck so easily. The tips of his fingers slipped down Chrollo’s waistband. “Just like I had you before. Will you give yourself to me? If only for another night.”
Chrollo was beyond words. He tilted his head up and found Hisoka’s gaze. He brought his hands behind the man’s neck, fisting his fingers in his hair to drag him down for an upside down kiss. It was sloppy and uncoordinated; their fangs bumped and clacked, and then cut at their flesh when it turned deep. Chrollo opened his eyes at the nearly forgotten taste of sire-blood. It burned like whiskey. It made him ache.
He wanted more.
Hisoka struggled to catch him when he abandoned any semblance of calm. Chrollo whipped around and latched onto Hisoka, his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, sinking his teeth deep into his throat to take greedy, messy mouthfuls. Hisoka’s hands grabbed his ass, holding him there as he found the nearest wall. Chrollo’s back hit cool, solid wood. His stomach burned with heady want.
What a terrible idea this was. What a horrible, awful thing, going along with Hisoka’s schemes. It just… It just tasted so fucking good. Better than the thin blood of the humans around him, better than anything he’d ever tasted from the scant vampires he’d managed to feed from along the years. Hisoka’s blood was rich, it was thick, it tasted like the culmination of all the years he’d lived and then more, tinged in that spark that ached deep down in Chrollo’s being. It’d tasted good that first night, and it tasted just as good now.
Feeding from a sire was frowned upon after the first twenty years. When it tasted as good as this, Chrollo had to think such compunctions were ill placed.
Hands as strong as iron gripped his shoulders, ripping his teeth from the fount that still poured. Chrollo panted for breath he didn’t need. He stared into those burning gold eyes, drowning in it, in the taste so thick on his lips. Please , he heard himself whisper. Please. I want more.
Hisoka pressed his finger to Chrollo’s lips, shushing him. The blood dripped sluggishly down his thick neck, pooling along his clavicle until it disappeared in the blood red of his shirt. “I’ll give you more,” he promised, his grin saying it all. “So, why don’t you let me take you home?”
He leaned close, putting his mouth, his fangs, to Chrollo’s ear.
“After all,” he whispered. “You’ve been drinking.”
Chrollo didn’t like these places. He didn’t like the feeling of being hunted.
But Hisoka had always been hunting him. If it was him, he could imagine getting used to the feeling.
