TW: dub-con, kidnapping, nonconsensual hair-cutting, oral (m. recieving), yandere, very early stages of Stockholm Syndrome starting, fem reader, MDNI
Thinking about yanderes who like to collect little keepsakes.
It's sweet, in their eyes - a little reminder of each moment they've spent with you, though it's not like they truly need it. The memories of you are permanently imprinted onto the back of their eyes, burning into the skin as he eagerly replays them over and over again in the dark quietness of his far too lonely bedroom.
But still, the idea's nice, isn't it? And for the most part, it really is meant to be that innocent - he's keeping reciepts of the grocery trips you go on. (Of course, one could make the argument that he's not really going with you - following ten feet behind you with a gray hoodie pulled up to his ears is hardly condusive to the domestic fantasy of shopping together, but it's close enough.)
He's snapping small photos of you as he watches the way you lounge about on your bed, phone clutched in your hands and eyes glued to the screen. (Internally he's cringing - you know better than to hold the phone so close to your face, or to spend hours scrolling through it in the dark. You're so careless with taking care of yourself - something that won't be a problem for much longer, of course.)
Each slip of paper, photo, and item of memorabilia gets carefully sorted away into a drawer, catalogued with exactly what the object is, when it was taken, and a few notes jotted down about what he was thinking, how you looked.
It's sweet, in some fucked-up, twisted way. But of course, not everything in their collection is so sweet - oh no.
The first time it happens, you'll be confused but won't know how to even bring up the question. What are you doing? You're panting too hard to even get the words out, spit dribbling down your chin and your throat feeling hoarse and tired.
The scissors glint in the dim lighting of the room, his own breath ragged as he carefully caresses your head, fingerpads brushing against your scalp, before picking out a small collection of hairstrands. The snip snip noise happens before you can even react, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.
So pretty... He murmurs as he thumbs at the pieces, his cock bobbing in front of you slightly. You're still on your knees, looking up at him with confusion and a small prick of anger settling in.
What are you-
He interrupts you with a boyish, too-wide smile, bringing the bits of hair up to his lips and inhaling deeply. It's not long before he settles them against his tongue, lips closing and exaggerated sucking sounds filling the room and making you squirm in discomfort and disgust.
You watch as he slowly grows hard again, mere inches from your eyes.
Eventually he pulls the pieces out of his mouth, the strands wet with saliva and clumping together, a shiver running up his spine.
His free hand comes down to cup your cheek as he looks down at you, his own face flushed a rather rosy pink.
You did so well for me, he starts, thumb toying with your bottom lip. Made me feel so good, didn't you?
His words make you want to bite at his finger, to cut it clean off, but the memory of your last 'bought of misbehavior' is still fresh in your mind, the phantom stomach pain from no food making you nearly wince.
Unwilling to give him a verbal answer you only shakily nod, still eyeing the bundle of your spit-soaked hair. He looks down at you thoughtuflly, as if pondering, before sighing softly.
With a final tap of his still-wet tip against your lips with his free hand, he turns around, digging thorugh the nearby drawer to find the clear plastic bag.
Just as you're rising to your feet, knees feeling stiff and jaw aching, he puts down the marker he'd been scribbling with. Inside the plastic bag lays your hair, the bag sealed and stripped of extra air. Your eyes catch on the label, and for a moment you're frozen in disgust.
June 25, 2026. Eight minutes, twenty-three seconds. Deep-throated, finished inside her mouth. Swallowed, minimal gagging.
He turns to face you with that same almost shy grin on his face, holding up the baggie and pressing a soft kiss over your hair.
For safe-keeping, he starts, pressing a matching kiss against your cheek. It lingers, wet and hot.
He leaves you standing there as he walks to the other side of the house you've been trapped in for weeks, pressing a fast code into the cabinet lock that you can't quite catch and setting the baggie on one of the shelves.
With a small sense of horror you see the depth of the shelf - at least a foot deep and two wide, with the seams of some twenty other plastic bags visible.
What - what is that? You whisper, but he closes the door before you can move forward to get a better look.
He turns to face you, one hand idly returning down to his navel. Calloused fingers wrap firmly around his base, giving himself a long stroke as he holds eye contact with you.
Ways to remember this by. Us, I mean.
His flush grows slightly redder, and he licks his lips.
It's my collection. Of you.
He kisses you before you can respond to that, tongue pushing inside your mouth and silencing any protests of yours. A hand finds its way between your legs, pinching and groping. He parts for air for a brief moment, licking at your lips along the way.
And you're the star piece.
Was mostly thinking of the following but can really be anyone: Douma, some flavor of Kyojuro Rengoku, Satoru Gojo, Chrollo Lucilfer, Shalnark, Koushi Sugawara, Lev Haiba
Short drabble because I was feeling oddly inspired
Tw: stalking, harassment, yucky online sexual harassment, slutshaming, allusions to assault, non-con photography, yucky yucky yucky and sort of incel-y
you’re so pretty
The comment interrupts your endless scrolling, the notification popping up from the top of your screen giving you pause. Your thumb hovers over the notification, tapping quickly and letting your most recent post fill the screen.
It’s nothing too terribly fancy – just a post detailing a hang-out at the park with your friends from last weekend. There’s some pretty photos of the autumn leaves and a photo of you smiling and sitting on the swing set – one that’s nearly too small for you now that you’re far from being a child. There’s another photo of you and your friend Erica on a picnic blanket, holding up the rather disastrous sandwich you’d cobbled together with the grossly limiting picnic supplies she’d packed.
You look pretty, you agree – you’re smiling big, the photo having been taken mid-laugh when your friend cracked a truly terrible joke. You’d felt good posting it, but the comment still makes you feel flattered, a warm feeling settling in your chest that makes you eagerly click on the user’s name.
You don’t follow him, and he’s not following you. He’s following no one, in fact.
Furrowing a brow, you shrug. Maybe it’s a bot, or maybe someone you actually do know in real life but just aren’t connected with on social media. The profile doesn’t have the user’s name, just a simple imtired123 and no profile photo. Probably a bot.
Sighing, you close out of the app, pressing the power button and hoisting yourself to your feet. You’re nearly late for work, anyways – your phone gets discarded into your purse and soon you’re out the front door, pulling your light jacket around yourself tighter in the crisp, cool autumn air.
nice
It’s a few weeks later when the next comment comes. Just like last time, it’s on a relatively nondescript post – one you’d made even before the autumn park photoshoot. It’s a photo of your pet, with some cute stickers and editing surrounding the animal’s face. It’s endearing, you think, but certainly not a masterpiece. The other photo in the post is a selfie of you and your pet, pressing a kiss to their cheek. Again, endearing – but nothing particularly groundbreaking.
It’s the same mystery account, and although it’s strikes you as odd that there’s so much space between the comments, you once again write it off as a bot. This comment’s less fun, though, so you’re quick to just shrug. Besides, your friend’s due to your apartment any minute now – and she gets crabby when you make her wait.
wear more blue
You roll over in bed, the buzzing noise from your phone making your eyes squint open. The alarm clock on your nightstand reads three in the morning, and you groan. Blearily, you check the notification, and only groan at the sight of the semi-familiar username commenting on a photo of you in a red shirt for a silly Halloween costume.
Weirdo, you grumble, unceremoniously shoving your phone back onto the nightstand with Do Not Disturb mode on. Maybe if you’re quick enough, you can get back to the dream you were having.
you make me so hard
It comes in the middle of brunch with your two closest friends. You don’t hear it at first, but the second time your phone buzzes you unconsciously reach for it. Your face sours up immediately, and Chelsea to your right notices.
“Everything okay?” She asks, wiping some ketchup from her eggs from the corner of her lips.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, just some creep.” You respond, clicking on the account again. It’s the same user – still with zero followers, you see, and only following a single account. You’re about to click on the following list, but the waiter’s sudden appearance stops you.
“Anything I can get you ladies?” He asks, sending a small smile Erica’s way, to which she only flushes and clears her throat.
Chelsea grins. “We’re good,” she gestures to the two of you, “but Erica here has been saying how bad she wants to try your sweet cream. For her coffee. Could you get one for her, please?”
Chelsea’s words make Erica gasp, the waiter laugh, and your own snort fill the air. Erica’s indignant as the waiter winks and turns on his heel, and your phone lay forgotten in your purse as Chelsea defends herself from the onslaught of half-hearted slaps.
you’re mine
You’re starting to get tired of this. It’s been a week or so since the brunch incident, and the stranger’s comments are starting to feel a little too targeted to simply be a bot. You’re curled up on your couch, TV playing some mindless sitcom while the moon shines outside the apartment window, when you click back into the stranger’s account.
The comment had been left on a story you’d posted earlier in the day showing a short video of the scenery outside the train you commute to work on. The sunlight had been hitting the city skyscrapers in a pretty way, and you’d wanted to take a snapshot of the moment.
You’re mine… It makes your toes curl, unease settling in the pit of your stomach. A strange thing to comment, really, and with only the smallest moment of hesitation, you firmly press down on the block button. Closing out of the app, you place your phone on the other end of the couch, focusing in on the familiar jangle of the television show’s theme song. Bot or not, the shenanigans would stop.
greedy attention whore
The post is of your baby cousins. They’re young – four and six, to be exact, and the photos are just the aftermath of them eating chocolate cake for a birthday party. There’s frosting smeared across their cheeks and down the front of the pretty white dresses they’re wearing. It’s sweet, it’s innocent, it’s normal – even if the comment isn’t.
You swallow, pressing on the account’s profile. The little icon pops up reading ‘new’ below the imageless profile photo, no description present. The account’s entitled imtired132 this time, and you grit your teeth. This can’t be a bot, you’re sure – it’s too specific and frankly too hurtful. You don’t know this person, but you’re starting to wish you never will.
You block them again, rushing to delete the comment on the post for fear your cousin will see and worry.
show me your tits
Three days later. You block them again.
your justt a dumb whor
A day after that, with grammar so bad you almost don’t bother to decipher it.
why are you ignoring me
One week later, on the same post as the last time.
just came to the thought of you, want to see
Commented at four in the morning, then deleted, then reposted.
you’re so pretty it makes me want to die
Ten days later, with a separate comment only containing a pink heart.
fucking slut
It comes at a really bad time – there’s never really a good time, you suppose, but being stuck in the sketchy, dirty bathroom of a club with tears running down your cheeks alongside your mascara certainly isn’t a good time. The dress you’re wearing feels too tight and suddenly too short, and you wipe at your eye as you look at the comment.
You’re at a fucking wedding in this post. It’s nearly six years old – your cousin’s wedding, as a matter of fact. The one whose kids you’d watched for the birthday party, the one who had her bridesmaids dress in rather modest navy pantsuits to match the aesthetic of the event. Slut. In your full-coverage outfit? The only skin showing is your hands, neck and face. Your hands are trembling as you sniffle, not even bothering to check the account’s details before clicking on the profile and selecting the direct message option.
What the fuck is your problem? Leave me alone. Your message and short and simple, and you don’t read it over for grammatical correctness. You’re not sure that you could, given how thick your tears have become, the night’s events paired with the comment only making you feel worse. It’d sucked that your longtime crush – a friend of Chelsea’s, one that she’d been dying to set you up with – had ignored you all night, and to top it all off just left with another girl. It’s demoralizing, and the alcohol in your system has left you feeling bold and emotional.
Your comments are creepy, and there has to be a better way to spend your time. You send the text, block the account, and shove your phone into your purse. Chelsea knocks on the stall door again, worry evident in her tone, but you can only sniffle harder.
The next morning you wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a train. Your head hurts, the room is too bright, and your limbs feel heavy. The hangover is bad, and it’s not until late in the day you gather the courage to look at the bright, hypnotizing screen of your phone.
There’s fourteen unread direct messages on Instagram.
no better way to spend my time, always about you
don’t cry
crying just makes you hotter
would you cry for me, if i asked you to
if you cry 4 me i’ll nut 4 you
do you want that. i want you to want that
you’re so dirty
i knew it just from looking at u
An hour pause, then the rest.
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
You’re shaking by the time you finish reading, any trace of a headache gone as you swallow. This person is fucking insane – this is demented. You’ve blocked him how many times? How many times has he created a new account just to harass you?
You drop your phone onto your mattress, unable to move. It’s only the insistent buzz of an incoming call notification that brings you out of your reverie. A quick look at the caller ID shows an unknown number, and immediately you’re out of your bed, leaving the room and trying to ignore the sound of your ringtone.
It’s a good, long twenty minutes before you build up the nerve to listen to the voicemail the number left. It’s five minutes long, and it’s mostly heavy breathing. You think you hear something clicking and rhythmic in the background, but you can’t bring yourself to admit what it is. There’s a loud gasp, then ten seconds of silence, and then very quietly: check your messages.
There’s three of them.
don’t ignore me. why are you ignoring me? i hate it when you ignore me.
so beautiful
Attachment: 1 Image
The photo’s dark, but one glance is enough to show you that it’s you in the photo, fast asleep and entirely unaware of the pale, bloody hand resting on your hip in the photograph’s corner.
The vomit comes before you can help it. You’re shaking again, nearly hyperventilating as you grab your purse and run to the door of your apartment, fingers trembling so badly you can hardly type in the location of the nearest police station. It’s only a ten minute walk, and as you grasp onto the door handle and swing the door backwards, you yelp at the sight of a man in your doorway.
You’ve never seen him before, but there’s something in his eyes that makes your throat dry up, tears prickling at your eyes, a small, warbled little no falling from your lips.
“Hello beautiful,” he starts, one hand coming up to your doorframe. Fingers wrap slowly around the wooden frame, holding tight as he takes a single step towards you. “Ah-ah-ah, not so fast.”
You’re frozen, so shocked and terrified that you can’t will yourself to move, to take action, to do anything even as he steps closer and closer.
“Y’know, you’re much prettier in real life.”
The door slams shut behind him.
(This was not written for anyone in particular, but now after re-reading this is strongly feeling like Gyutaro, Shalnark, or maybe some flavor of Atsumu.)
Hi!!! I have this question that's been stuck in my mind. Do you think the phantom troupe would wish to get married (I'm really curious because legally they don't have an identity)? If yes, what do you think would be the theme of the wedding or how they will propose? (I think Uvogin would; I'm not so sure about the others, especially Feitan).
Thank youu!!!
Oooh anon!! A good question!
I think generally, most of the Troupe's yanderes harbor a secret desire to actually marry you. It's sweet, it's domestic, and it ties you to them both emotionally, physically, and legally - the holy trinity, in some eyes.
Let's discuss!!
But of course, the issue of their criminal statuses and lack of an official identity can present challenges in this endeavor, warding some off from actually going through with it. A few yanderes, like Feitan, Franklin, and Machi, decide that it's more trouble than it's worth - even if they secretly wish to see you wearing the pretty ring on your finger that matches with theirs.
Alternatively, these three will each find ways to make it up - Feitan gets you a spider tattoo that matches his own, though instead of the the number in the center, it's simply an F. It's a little cheesy, but it makes him feel better - besides, a tattoo is permanent, a ring is not. This is better.
Machi will always sort of just dream about it, but you'll notice that she starts getting you clothing that's just a bit more formal, maybe something with frills or is white. It's not super obvious, and you'd have to know to look for it, but if she can't marry you, at least she can pretend.
Franklin actually bought you a ring very early into his obsession, right after he came to terms with the fact that his feelings weren't going to go away. He keeps it on his person at all times, and often he'll just idly fiddle with it, rolling it between his fingers and smiling softly at it, letting his mind run wild and pretend that you're wearing it, that you're his.
Some are still a bit more secretive about wanting to officially marry you, but will go through the hoops to get a fake identity and register the marriage. Phinks, for example, does want to marry you, even if it's a little embarrassing to admit. He won't directly bring it up, but after he gets all the legal stuff figured out, he'll present the papers to you with a pen, scratching the back of his neck and struggling to look at you while he asks in an unsure voice if you'd like to - you know, uh, tie the knot?
Pakunoda is also not super pushy about it, but she does want it to happen. She'll drop hints once she thinks you've come around enough, even going so far as to use her nen ability to get information out of you about whether you actually want to marry her, and if so what your dream wedding looks like. She doesn't mind the work if it means getting to see your face light up and give you that magical day you've both dreamed of - particularly because it'll be her bed you come home to that night.
Some didn't have particularly strong feelings about the matter until later on into their infatuation with you. It's a fleeting thought mostly, something that tickles at the back of their mind for a brief moment, but it sticks with them. Would you like to get married? Would you like to wear a pretty dress and kiss them and take their last name like they really, really want you to? The longer they think about it, the more they like it, and so they'll get all the necessarily legal fraud done - it's worth it.
Shalnark both likes the idea, and likes the way it would permanently bind you to him. Even if you tried to run away, once you're married it would be very, very easy for him to track you down. Besides, he likes domesticity and pretending that your relationship is perfectly normal and healthy and consensual - it's fun to tease you this way, but it also makes him giddy and fluttery. Marrying you is this boyish dream that he wants to live out, so when he starts cutting out all these photos of dresses and rings and eagerly shows you, don't be too surprised.
Shizuku just likes the idea. Pakunoda makes some comment about a couple she'd seen the other day shopping for wedding venues, and instantly a light bulb ignited above her head. You'd look cute in a wedding dress, especially if it had lots of frills and pretty lace. She doesn't even ask you - you get excited when she takes you out of the house for once, only for your heart to drop when you see the dress and the flowers and the ring, all of her coworkers looking at you with varying degrees of happiness and interest. At least the wedding is a little cute - lots of delicate laces and finishing touches.
Others are very, very excited to marry you. It's something that's been in the cards for a long while, and it's something that will happen. You don't really get a say; it makes them feel better, as if your relationship is genuine, authentic, and official. Plus, seeing you all dolled up in white for them makes their heart race out of their chests and their suits feeling too tight.
Uvogin, for one, wants everything in your relationship to be as normal as possible. He truly loves you, and while he recognizes that he's a bit of an alternative groom, he wants you to feel special and lovely and pretty. Plus, getting to tease you about being his little wife is an awfully appealing idea - as is the fact that now you actually belong to him, just as he's been telling you all along. (Plus, now you can't even pretend to put up a fight about him not wearing a condom - you're married, so who cares if he knocks you up now?)
Nobunaga, frankly, already was under the impression that you were married in every way except name. You're living together (forcibly, but that's besides the point), you sleep in the same bed (again, forcibly), share finances (he controls everything you get, so 'share' perhaps isn't the best word), and he touches you like a husband would (even if you wish he wouldn't). Marriage is simply the final nail in the coffin of what you should already know is your love story - so slip on the white dress and let him slip you out of it later that night - it'll be fun, he promises.
(I was inspired by the idea of Chrollo and a wedding, so have a little blurb about it!)
Chrollo thinks the idea is cute. He's got enough aliases to register a marriage in whatever country he happens to be in, quickly filing the paperwork with minimal scuff.
It's endearing, honestly - the idea of you being his loving wife, his woman, wearing a pretty ring sparkling on your finger that symbolizes both his love for you and your belonging to him.
He views the idea as both something to quell his romantic and possessive instincts towards you, all the while pleasing you by finally having something normal happen in your relationship. He may have kidnapped you, may be a mass criminal, and he may infuriate you to the point of insanity, but all women dream about getting married, right?
And while you may be volatile towards him, even you can't deny the idea of marrying him - he's seen the way you look at him, how your disgust gets less pronounced with every passing day when he touches you, how resignation is slowly settling into your frowns and the slump of your shoulders.
And so, he'll propose, it'll be a grand affair, but Chrollo has this way of making everything seen so casual and subtle, even if the candlelit dinner he pops the question over is anything but. He takes you out on dates once in a blue moon, with those dark eyes watching your every move and making sure you do nothing even remotely suspicious.
The first thing you'll notice on this night, however, is how there's no one around int he restaurant - with a wonderful view of the city skyline and the full moon making it all glow. It's empty, save for you and Chrollo. There's a white wicker candle burning between the two of you and a collection of blood red flowers sitting in an ornate glass vase, one of your favorite desserts sitting in front of you on the immaculate, perfectly pressed white tablecloth.
(He'd ordered both your meal and your dessert for you, of course, though irritatingly enough, you'd enjoyed the food and were begrudgingly going to enjoy the sweet.)
He's been unusually quiet the entire dinner, those dark eyes seeming to bore into you even harder than usual, making goosebumps rise all along your body.
(Your body that's covered in a stunning, sating emerald dress that he picked, of course. The sizing was perfect, as always, even looking hand tailored despite never going to the sizing appointments yourself.)
It's scared you a bit, truth be told, but as soon as he leans back, pressing the glass of wine to his lips with a twinkle in those soulless eyes that keep looking at your fingers, things will suddenly start to click. There's a pause as he swallows, and all too soon his voice is filling up the previously empty air, his voice almost giddy as he asks if you enjoyed the food.
You'll nervously respond with a yes, and he'll let the smallest of smiles slip onto his lips. But this smile - this smile - it feel real, genuine, unlike any other smile you've seen him give you before. There's something sharp about it, vulnerable and raw and horrible, and it makes it hard to breath as he utters the next sentence.
Will you be eternally mine, love? Would you let me be eternally yours?
It's cheesy and far too dramatic and just too much, but what choice do you have? It's not like you can really say no. And when you nod, that smile will get bigger and wider, a cold hand reaching across the table to clasp over yours while you shrink back.
And that smile stays until the wedding date- very soon after he initially asks, in an older, gothic-style church. It's clearly been abandoned, but there's no dust or grime to be seen anywhere and the large, ornate glass windows make you think the place has actually been recently scrubbed from floor to ceiling.
The pews are a dark mahogany, almost black, with curling designs and animals carved into the wood. The floor is stone and the walls are too, making everything feel gray and glowing from all the candles still present. The Troupe is all present, remarkably all dressed in formal attire - suites and dresses, and if you'd actually wanted to be there, you almost might've laughed at the sight of Phinks wearing a rose pendant at his lapel.
The dress - once again, chosen by Chrollo and perfectly fitted - a creamy ivory color. It's surprisingly simple, something you hadn't been expecting from your self-proclaimed lover - it's satin and smooth, the fabric rippling beautifully as you walk, with a high neckline and long sleeves that only bell out at the wrists.
The back, however, is much more what you associate with Chrollo's style - it's entirely open, showing off the expanse of your back all the way from your shoulders to right above your tailbone. The cold air of the church makes you shiver, as do all the stares of the Troupe members when you walk down the aisle alone.
The flowers are all red roses and Persian lilies. There's nothing green.
The ring is simple; a silver band with his name engraved along the interior, and a jade set into the band that's a deep, rich green standing out against your skin. He slips it onto your finger with hands that you think are slightly shaking, his Adam's Apple bobbing ever so slightly. He seems distracted throughout the whole ceremony, and he keeps a firm grip on your hands throughout it all, his grip tight enough to leave bruises against your knuckles.
The ceremony is officiated by a man that looks far too unphased by the presence of criminals to be a real priest, and quickly it becomes apparent that he'll entertain no sort of rebellion from you. He hardly even lets you finish your vows, sounding impatient to the to the 'I do'.
The clapping is loud as Chrollo's hand settles onto your waist, his pink lips perking into a smile as he leans closer to you, his breath smelling of mint as it fans across your cheeks, his whisper of your name making your breath hitch as he kisses you, your first intimacy as an officially married couple.
The kiss is innocent and tame, but the weight of its meaning makes your shoulders sink and your stomach drop, something inside of you slowly curling up and dying. He pulls back for a moment, before diving in again, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth and wrapping his arm fully around your waist, a sharp inhale sounding as he kisses you harder, deeper, fervently, his fingertips pressing into you and crumpling the fabric of the dress he'd forced you into.
Eventually he pulls away, slightly out of breath and his hair a little out of place across his forehead and god that damn smile is back as he looks at you, this sort of wide-eyed expression settling across his face that looks too boyish and genuine to be real.
My wife... He muses under his breath, licking his lips and not letting his gaze falter from yours.
Many kisses will come later that night, as he strips you out of the lacy white lingerie you're wearing under the dress, as he pushes inside of you with a sort of muffled strangled noise, as he sweats and his hips stutter and he buries his face into your neck and claims you as his.
tw: allusions to non-con/dub-con, yandere, power imbalances, excess talk regarding balls and cum I am sorry, slapping, degradation, size kink, male genitalia is gross, fem! reader, MDNI
It’s an average size, roughly five or so inches, with an equally average girth. He’s nothing particularly special, but his cock’s so damn pretty – a pale pink, rosy color, perfectly flushed ombre down to his tip. When he’s close to coming the tip turns a rich red color, throbbing and twitching even without stimulation. He’s got very few veins running the expanse, leaving him perfectly smooth and feeling like velvet inside of you. His balls are perfectly symmetrical, too, only a few black hairs out of place. He’s quite confident in himself, and while he’s not particularly sensitive, the one thing he is sensitive to is temperature. If your hands are cold he’ll jump a bit, trying to mask the way his every nerve is alight with the feeling of your cold fingers teasing his slit. Your pussy, too, is so damn warm, the sensation making his head fall forward, black hair covering his eyes every time he first pushes into you. He has to let the feeling pass, otherwise he runs the risk of coming too soon, and that would look horrible to you.
He doesn’t come much; it’s a small amount, though it doesn’t taste too bad. He dribbles, the globs slipping past his tip and sliding down his length, the white standing out against the pretty red of his cock. He’s super sensitive after he comes, however – the moment the last few drops come out, any touch has Chrollo jerking slightly, his eyes fluttering shut as the oversensitivity overwhelms him. He’s not sure whether he loves it or hates it when you keep going, ignoring his recent orgasm in search of your own as you ride him carelessly – you can only tell by the way he starts twitching over and over inside you, his nails digging into your sides while his breaths grow ever so slightly heavier. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll manage to get a very light groan out of him when you overstimulate him – aim for the balls, and for the area on his underside right below the tip.
His favorite way for you to touch him is with hesitant, unsure touches. He likes the way you look all shy and reserved when you initiate touching him (something he very much enjoys, more than you can imagine), your eyes flicking to his to make sure it’s feeling good for him. It makes him feel loved, and the airy light brushes of your fingertip against his sensitive skin makes him suck in short, sharp little breaths, the fleeting pleasure teasing him. He likes to guide you through it, grabbing your hand and telling you to hold firmer, squeeze tighter, to not be afraid to get a bit dirty. Spit on his length, drool on it, grind yourself against it and get him all slick with your arousal. He doesn’t care – there’s just something about your constant unsureness of your movements that gets his heartbeat racing, his fingers twitching at his side and his cock twitching, a drop of precum pearling at his tip, waiting to get inside you.
He’s a little over four inches long; not too terribly much to show, but he compensates with going harder and faster. He’s moderately thick, very proportionate, and the combination of width and the animalistic pace with which he fucks you will have you seeing stars, despite his shortcomings in size. He’s a bit insecure about his cock, and as a result avoids having you look at it whenever possible. He’ll fuck you from the back, spreading open those pretty cheeks and sinking himself inside until his pelvis is flush with your ass. He likes this position because you can’t see him, but he can see you – and god, what a sight it is to see his cock appear and disappear inside you, over and over again. Plus, this way he can stare unabashedly at you and mouth sappy shit he’d never willingly say under his breath.
He comes kind of quickly, all things considered, but does his best to prolong the experience. He’ll fuck you for a few minutes, then pause or pull out to slap your ass or make you suck on his fingers a bit, anything to kill time and reduce his sensitivity. Ends up edging himself nearly all the time you’re together, but he’d rather delay his pleasure than run the risk of you laughing at him for coming too early. He shoots, and it goes a surprisingly long ways – easily six or seven inches away from his tip, landing in a wet pile on your back. He doesn’t come a huge amount, and it’s a bit sticky – it’s hard to clean up, and most of the time Feitan doesn’t offer you any assistance, kind of entertained and aroused by the idea of you just always having his cum on you.
His favorite way for you to touch him is quickly and frenzied. It’s not uncommon for him to just grab your hand and put it on his cock, telling you to get me off and letting you do your thing. He still doesn’t want you to look at it too much, but he’ll let your hands roam and grope, to squeeze at his balls and flick a thumb over his tip. He likes it when you explore him, even if it makes him feel a bit uneasy – it feels nice, like you actually want to touch him, like you’re almost enjoying it as much as he is. Prefers for you to use a combination of your mouth and hands at these times, but knows he’ll eventually end up in your cunt so it doesn’t matter all that much. Always secretly hopes you’ll touch him too roughly/squeeze him too harshly so that he can throw you onto the bed and climb over you, pushing your face into the pillow and mounting you from the back, fucking into you until you’re shaking and crying his name.
He’s about six inches and pretty skinny, definitely fills you up in the sense that it’s deep enough to reach parts of you you’ve never felt before. He’s not too terribly sensitive, though he doesn’t tend to last too long in bed – but his stamina is such that he can normally be up for round two after a few minutes of eating you out. He bobs a lot, his whole cock bouncing out of the blue, feeling strange when he’s got it pressed up against you – as if it has a mind of its own, dictating how badly it wants to be inside you. His balls are pretty sensitive though – he likes pressure on them, so squeezing them, or especially sucking on them is a favorite of his. (He’s harbored this fantasy or cockwarming for as long as he can remember – except, instead of his cock inside you, it’s his balls in your mouth for hours on end, keeping them warm and cushioned and sensitive.)
His cum is, unfortunately, pretty salty; definitely not the best you’ve ever tasted. But he’s willing to share the bad taste – he really likes spitballing, and so as soon as he’s come into your mouth, he’s pulling your lips to his and kissing you, cum slipping past your lips and into his mouth, moans in the back of his throat because it feels so raunchy and erotic to be sharing this with you. However, no matter how many times you pass it back and forth, you will be the final recipient, the one expected to swallow. He spurts, but it’s a pretty weak stream – only coming out an inch or so before splattering down onto his navel. It’s a white color and pretty runny, but easy to clean up. He also produces an ungodly amount of precum – before his kimono is even off, there’s almost drips running down his length and pooling at the head.
His favorite way for you to touch him is gentle, slow touches to his most sensitive areas – his balls, and his tip. Likes firm squeezes to his balls, kneading and lightly pulling on them, especially if your hands are wet or sticky from your own arousal. He likes it when you run your thumb along his tip, shuddering and fluttering his eyes closed when you run it along his sensitive slit. His hips buck if you play with his foreskin; pull up then back quickly and rub at the newly exposed skin, and he’ll actually whimper.
He’s five and a half inches, with plenty of girth. Overall, a very masculine cock – a bit veiny, slightly leaning left, heavy enough to sag a bit. He’s decently sensitive, but god, his balls – one touch and he’s shivering, cheeks blooming pink in pleasure and embarrassment. He’s extremely sensitive there, and even though he’s a bit ashamed, if he’s right on the edge of orgasming, a few massages of them and he’s thrown over the edge almost violently. He won’t tell you about his heightened sensitivity, but it’s easy to tell when he’s groaning into your neck and bucking into you every time you brush against them.
His favorite way for you to touch it is just having you grinding against him. He likes the pressure of your body in his lap, weight on him as you grind and swivel your hips, scooping against him rhythmically. He likes the way the stimulation is a bit dull, coming from all different directions, and he likes to watch the way your hips work against his, even seeing wet spots appear in his boxers and your panties. He likes the feeling of your pussy against him, all warm and soft and wet, and would literally kill to get a pussy job from you, to get his tip sliding along your folds, teasing and feeling good but not quite good enough. He likes having both your hands free, along with your mouth – he’s surprisingly a big fan of kissing, and most of the time will have his face buried in your neck or a nipple in his mouth.
His cum is thick, opaque and an off-white color. It tends to glob up, rolling down your body slowly, shining a bit in the light. He comes in spurts; shooting out of his tip quickly over and over, never seeming to end, as if too much has been stored up and it’s all just bursting out. It splatters all over his stomach or you or in you – His favorite place to come is across your ass, seeing the soft globes stained with him makes his knees weak and his breathing ragged.
He’s just shy of six inches, with immaculately trimmed dirty blond hairs framing it. His cock is honestly a bit pleasing to look at – soft lines and a set of pretty, perk balls sitting behind the shaft. It’s always a baby pink color, and as he gets closer to coming it turns a brighter red, standing out against his pale skin like a homing beacon. He takes pride in his cock; a slightly upwards angle lets him hit all the right spots when he’s got you under him, and god does he love when you’re crying out and orgasming around him; your pussy all tight and wet and spasming all for him…
His cum honestly doesn’t taste too bad – it’s still a bit bitter, but it’s manageable. Which is great news for you, because Shalnark really likes finishing on your face, and inevitably some will get into your mouth, no matter how hard you try. He likes it when you scoop it all up with your finger, licking your finger clean and making a show of opening your mouth and letting him see that you swallowed all of it. Makes him giggle and plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, complimenting your abilities to suck him off and making a cheeky joke about how you’re just such a natural, maybe you really are a slut! He’s a dribbler, but there’s a decent amount of it, so it just keeps flowing out – you’ve got to be very close to get it on your face, though. Shalnark doesn’t mind, however – you look good all cozied up with his cock on your knees, after all.
His favorite way for you to touch him is to give him head. There’s something about the sight of you below him, worshipping his cock with your pretty mouth and cute little hands that makes him not only throb in your hands, but also get a power trip like never before. He likes to prolong it, too – he’ll play with his cock on you, holding it at the base and tracing his tip along your lips, occasionally pushing past them with no warning just to watch your eyes widen. (Plus, the surge of warmth and wetness from your mouth certainly doesn’t feel bad.) He’ll slap your cheeks with it, the dull thud noise making his spine tingle, seeing the way you look so small and weak with his cock all over your face. He likes to fuck your face, and he’ll thrust particularly deeply every once in a while, just to feel you choke and gag, your nails digging into his thigh where you’re holding onto him for dear life.
He’s a big man with a big dick – it’s a solid seven inches and thick, the girth alone requiring extensive foreplay for you. He’s aware of it though, and while it prides him to know he’s big enough to surely be satisfying you, he doesn’t mind making you come on his tongue a few times before he sinks inside you. His cock’s a tan color, the tip so heavy it sags between his legs, his balls heavy enough to droop a bit too. He feels lighter after he’s come, particular if that cum goes inside you – which is part of why he fucks you so often. He’s not the best at trimming, and more often than not you’ll have to deal with a forest of dark, unruly hair – but on the bright side, he doesn’t expect you to groom at all, either.
He comes a lot, nearly buckets full, to the point where you’ll be left to wonder how it’s possible it all came from just one man. It’s not the best taste (too bitter), but he prefers to come on your body more anyways, so you rarely ever have to taste it. He likes painting your tits in white, seeing the way the thick cum dribbles down onto your nipples, pooling up and sometimes dripping down to your thighs. He shoots, almost violently so – the force is strong, spurts coming so fast that it feels like one continuous stream. Groans the whole time he’s coming, a deep sound that’ll have you rubbing your thighs together subconsciously. He doesn’t really like it when you clean up afterwards, but he won’t say much – anything that goes inside you, however, will be staying there, with a plug to keep it all nice and neat inside your little cunt.
His favorite way for you to touch him is when you give him head and have to use both your mouth and hands. He likes the way you look all small and petite in the face of his monstrous cock, struggling to fit as much of him into your mouth as possible, using both hands to cover all the rest. It makes him swell with pride to see you with watery eyes as you occasionally choke on him, the sensation and sound of you gagging making him throw his head back and hiss. It makes his size kink flare up, thinking of how small you are and how easily he could manhandle you and fuck you until you break – something he very nearly does, often. He’ll card his fingers over your hair and coo down at you, all the while watching you struggle but offering no reprieve. He’ll finish on your tits and collarbone, painting your pretty skin with the thick, off white, giving you a wet, messy kiss afterwards and telling you to buckle up, ‘m not letting this pussy get away without getting stuffed, angel.
Just a little blurb about Shalnark being a dick <3
Tw: kidnapping, exhibitionism, voyeurism, patronization, facials, forced facial, weird power dynamic, sort of implied somnophilia? It's definitely straddling the line, ugh shal is so slimy and creepy but i love him, fem reader, MDNI
Shalnark makes you sit down in front of him on the bed, so that you're facing each other, and talk him through touching himself.
It's not as dominant of a position as you think it is - not when he's looking at you like that, all expectant and patronizing and wide, like he's expecting you to fail at this before you even start.
He'll follow your every command, shamelessly spreading his legs so that you get the full view of his pretty pink cock and the set of balls with a few blond hairs nestled behind it, a thin layer of precum already making his tip shine and glisten in the light. He's been thinking about this all day - when he was watching you wake up this morning (laying next to you, of course, with his hand tucked under his head and a wide, unnatural grin on his face because you're just so damn pretty, and seeing you all vulnerable like that really gets him going).
He's watching you the whole time, this infuriating little giggle coming from him with every command you make.
Stroke yourself slowly.
His eyes twinkle at you as he does what you say, a fake pout coming to his lips. His hand is moving almost on autopilot, not a single strain or wobble to his voice. This doesn't feel all that good, you know, it's much better when you're doing it for me.
He doesn't want you to touch him, though - not yet, at least,
He'll tell you that this isn't quite how I'd do it with every command you give, though he executes them exactly as you say.
He'll make you keep going, too, for as long as it takes him to come - you won't be given any sort of timeframe, any warning when he's getting close, only left to be scrutinized and relentlessly laughed at while he fucks his fist and fondles his balls just as you instruct.
But while this is all fun and games for Shalnark (and he fucking loves the attention, your eyes all on him and your cute, shy, bashful little expressions because aw, you're embaressed), the real fun begins when he's right on the edge of coming.
Because you don't get any sort of warning, it's very, very jarring when he's suddenly scooting forward, one hand flying up to grab the back of your head and yanking you down, stopping you so that your face is only an inch or so above his cock, his own hand still tugging and twisting and pulling just like you said.
But then his orgasm hits and he's coming, warm cum splattering up onto your face, his trembling fingers angling his tip up directly against your cheeks and nose so that it'll get all over you - so that you'll get a face full of him while he gets the visual of your pretty head bent over his crotch.
(If he's in a particularly good mood, he'll even rub his tip along an expanse of unsullied skin on your face, just to make sure he's gotten everything he can offer onto you - he might even hum your name or compliment you for being so obedient while he does it.)
He's berathing heavy and staring down at you, his smile for once managing to fall away because he' just enjoying you, the sight of your pretty back all arches, your pretty hair, the feeling of your warm breath brushing against his cock, all sensitive and wet and needy, still.
Once he finally lets your head go he'll grin at you and pat your head, telling you in a breathless voice that just barely gives away how strongly his orgasm affected him that you're not too bad at that, but I'm sure you could do better with your own hand. Why don't you show me?
Shalnark just thinks it's so, so cute the way you flounder and get all embaressed when he's looking to you for pleasure, how you clam up because he just won't stop staring at you or talking to you or touching his damn cock. It's cute to see you so overwhelmed.
And the way you never seem to learn your lesson, never seeming to realize that he'll always throw some last minute wrench in at the end is really the crowning jewel - you're way too trusting, and he's not a good enough person to ignore that.
And luck, lucky you get a face full of his cum, his fingers groping at you and his cock impatiently nestling between your folds - what more could you possibly ask for?
(Because really, say anything - aside from your freedom - and Shalnark will give it to you. He'd give you the world if you asked it of him.)
im sorry if this is a lame ask, but i just had the idea and thought i would share it to see if it would strike any inspo! of course on this blog you’ve talked about all the things our beloved troupe members are into, but have you ever considered what their absolute turn offs are? like things that pull them out of the mood almost immediately? or kinks that would seem to fit certain members, but end up not being their thing for one reason or another
Ooh yes anon this strikes inspo !!
This is a good point - it's all fine and dandy to imagine sex with your yandere as being so bad but so good, as if they know every secret, dirty kink and fantasy you have. (That's because they do know, whether through extensive stalking, pouring through your search histories, or raw, natural sexual chemistry with you. They all think they've got that last one, but normally any positive sexual encounters between the two of you will be a consequence of the former two rather than the latter.)
But of course, everyone has turn offs, and while your yandere would be willing to do pretty much anything to please you, even the most obsessed, unhinged yanderes have a few hard, fast exceptions.
I'm assuming you meant just hxh yanderes for this, so let's proceed moving forward with that in mind! If you meant for another fandom, please let me know and I'd be happy to discuss those yanderes too <3
Let's discuss !!
(Tw for petnames, watersports, recording, anal, pegging, crying, hitting, and other smutty things)
Chrollo Lucilfer is pretty hard to frazzle in bed, and is one of those who have done extensive, eager research into both your own personal sexual preferences, and made educated guesses on kinks that seem to correlate with ones he already knows you possess. That said, Chrollo himself isn't especially risky in bed - he'll indulge you, sure, but he doesn't have a strong desire to try anything especially crazy unless you're a big fan. And while he'll let you have your fun (particularly in the beginning of your sexual relationship, just because promising you that he'll choke you or dominate you or whatever else you may like just to get you into bed with him and somewhat willing, just because he needs to pleasure you and get you warming up to him) , most of the time sex with him is quite vanilla. He's open to listening to whatever you want, with one very, very large exception: there is no amount of pleading or bargaining that will let you peg him. He doesn't inherently believe that men should always be dominant over women, but he does believe that he should always be dominant over you. And if you were to peg him, this power structure would collapse, allowing you too much control over both his pleasure and him. He doesn't mind being in a more physically submissive position (he'll never deny you when you straddle him and tell him that you're in charge for the evening, the only response you get being a twinkle in his eye, a soft smirk and a hummed we will see, my love), but the idea of you fucking him just rubs him the wrong way. He's more vulnerable with you than he is anyone else, but Chrollo has his limits. (Besides, the idea of absolutely falling apart for you is both alluring and terrifying, because the moment you discover his prostate, he'll be a gasping mess, his cheeks tinged a light pink and his grip on the sheets below him very, very tight. It would be embarrassing, and he can't allow you to see him in such a weak position - it would derail all the hard work he's done to convince you that you need him.)
Feitan Portor really detests being called Daddy. He thinks it's weird, and even if you - sweet, perfect, irritatingly attractive you - were to say it, he still wouldn't like it. There's just something about it that rubs him the wrong way - it feels too paternal, and while he doesn't remember having a family in any biological capacity, it still just makes his skin crawl. He won't get soft immediately upon hearing you say it (he's always just slightly hard when you're in his vicinity, so rarely ever is he truly flaccid around you), but he'll need to pull out and take a breather, mentally trying to erase the sound of the petname rolling off your tongue. He can deal with other petnames - he'd be okay with sir, if only because he's always kind of had a thing for roleplaying, or at least having some sort of overarching power dynamic present during sex, and being called sir would place him in a position of absolute authority, meaning he could do whatever he wants to you and you'd just obediently obey. (You already kind of do, too scared to say no to him, but it doesn't feel as authentic - he feels less comfortable, more vulnerable and exposed and raw, and he doesn't like that.) You could even call him master if you really wanted to - similarly, it feeds his desire for playing a powerful, dominant role, but he doesn't have any sort of particularly liking towards maid costumes or anything of the sort, so it wouldn't do too much for him. He's good with nearly anything else you could throw at him, but never Daddy. Frankly, he really just prefers his own, actual name - it just sounds so damn good when you gasp it, the sound going straight to both his cock and heart.
Phinks Magcub's brows always get pinched and his lips quirk down when he thinks about the idea of you bleeding during sex. It makes his hands itch, this protectiveness welling up inside him that makes him antsy and nervous and jittery, the energy all pent up and needing to be released because god, he doesn't like seeing you hurt. Even if it makes you feel good, your moans increasing because of the pain twinged pleasure, he's unwilling to indulge you - he couldn't bring himself to purposefully make you bleed, and while he does occasionally (often) leave you bruised and incredibly sore after having his way with you, that's a whole different thing from seeing that crimson color against your pretty skin. It just makes him uncomfortable - if you asked nicely enough he'd consider maybe lightly slapping you or getting rough with you (though he's already pretty rough when he gets lost in the moment - finger shaped bruises litter your body and hickeys dance along your collarbone and neck), but he'll draw the line at drawing blood. (Similarly, he doesn't really want to bleed himself either, but he'd be more willing to be in the position of pain than putting you into that position of pain. Besides, it might help him last longer, the pleasure warded off by negative stimulation - and god knows Phinks needs all the help he can get in delaying his orgasms.)
Uvogin is pretty adventurous in bed, all things considered, but even he has a few hard turn offs, one of which being degrading you. He doesn't mind calling you needy or possessive terms of endearment, but anything with even a slight negative connotation is always preceded by a 'my', so that when he's calling you a slut it always becomes my slut. Even then, he doesn't like doing this - his natural default when he's naked with you is to be praising you, because those are honestly the thoughts running through his mind when he's got his hands on you and he's feeling your soft skin against his. He genuinely only has good, lustful, reverent things to say about your body and the fact that he's getting to touch, kiss, squeeze, and fuck you, and he's not shy about telling the truth. And so, if you were to request for him to degrade you a bit in bed or be a little meaner, he'll oblige, but it'll feel just slightly forced, his words not holding their usual deep, growling timber that always sends shivers down your spine. He ends up compromising by mixing praise and degradation, but absolutely destroying you with his thrusts and well placed circles on your clit, channeling all the harsh, humiliating energy of verbal degradation instead into how he assaults your body with an overwhelming amount of pleasure. He just doesn't like the idea of lying to you, even if it turns you on in this context, because it just feels wrong to tell you that you're only a hole for me to fuck, and holes don't talk. You're not - you're so much more than that, and he doesn't want you to think otherwise. Hell no, not with all the work he's put into making you get comfortable with him and want him. One roll around on the liviing room floor (he'd gotten impatient and didn't feel like making the thirty step journey to the bedroom) isn't worth reversing months worth of warming you up to him. Not even if you leave his back scratched up or end up so stuffed full of his cum that you're literally leaking.
Nobunaga Hazama is, frankly, just thankful and elated that you're touching him. He's delusional, compeltely out of touch with reality, and fucking weird, but he's also a major sap and literally gets heart eyes everytime he sees you. And so, in the bedroom he wants everything to be as close and sensual as possible, and for every bit of pleasure and love shared between the two of you to be expressed in full. This, of course, includes any and all noises he draws out of you - that is, Nobunaga has to have you gasping and keening and moaning. He's loud himself, and he expects sex to be full of wanton cries and a cacophany of sound; one that you are expected to eagerly contribute to. And if you don't deliver? Well, Nobunaga will just try harder, licking at your faster or thrusting harder or pinching tighter - anything and everything to get you to make a damn sound, to give stop him from having to confront the reality that you aren't enjoying this nearly as much as he is. He gets turned off when you're quiet, which is a real bummer if you aren't naturally loud - you have to be, because he won't quite until you are, even if that takes hours and hours and hours.
Alternatively, Franklin Bordeau can tell when you're faking it, and he doesn't like that. At all. He doesn't want your forced moans or fabricated shaking or anything that isn't real - he wants you, your genuine reactions to his touch, and your genuine personality in bed. He doesn't want you to sound like some pornstar - with your moans constant and high and shrill and more pained than pleasured - for two main reasons, the first of which being that it's just annoying. He's never understood the allure of a woman screaming during sex, and even in the context of actual, real pleasure, it still makes him uncomfortable. It's too close to the sounds he hears when he's working a heist - he doesn't want you to sound like them, because he has no intentions of hurting you and just the mere thought of you bloodied is enough to get him soft immediately and clutching onto you like you'll disappear any moment. The second reason why he doesn't want you to be forcing anything is because although he's decently confident in his sexual abilities, he knows he isn't making you feel that good. He's sure him fingering you isn't capable of getting you gasping and whining his name constantly - sure, it feels good, and you'll probably moan and sigh, but still. When he's fucking you, he's hopeful that you'll cry out his name, but he knows you shouldn't be screaming and rythmically, shrilly moaning. He values honesty, and hearing your real, raw reactions to his touch and his presence feels a thousand times more pleasurable than anything you could ever forcibly manufacture - especially your orgasms. He can always tell when you're faking, so don't try it. Don't.
Honestly, it's pretty difficult to get Shalnark turned off. He's kinky, adventurous, and misinterprets a lot of your responses during sex - he likes to think you're just as wild as he is, and even when you clearly don't like something, he still thinks seeing you struggle is just as arousing. (Besides, most of the time he will get you to orgasm - and seeing the internal dilemma of hating what he's doing alongside the pleasure you can't hold back is absolutely delicious.) That said, there are very specific situations that Shalnark doesn't find any attraction in - specifically, he absolutely is not willing to be cucked. Having another person in the room while he fucks you hard enough to make you cry isn't a problem at all - on the contrary, he's very, very interested in that idea, because having another man watch him claim you makes both his possessiveness and nostrils flare, his palms getting sweaty and his pants feeling tight. Cucking, on the other hand, implies that there's someone else touching you - another person sullying you, getting their disgusting hands on your perfect skin that's all his his his, and that's just simply unacceptable. He didn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping you and keeping you in a secure location just to have you touched, fucked, loved by another man. It doesn't matter if it's a stranger or someone Shalnark trusts with his life - you will not be getting intimate with another soul for the rest of your life, simply because he firmly sees you as his property, and him yours. So don't even bother bringing the idea up - he'll fuck you in front of the stranger, no problem, but they're prohibited to strictly watching. (Or, maybe, they'd be good at helping get those camera angles that are really tough to capture - right up in your face, or right zoomed into where his length - flushed red and swollen - is sinking into you over and over, the home video the perfect thing to watch tonight as he cuddles you to sleep.)
Alternatively, Machi Komacine can't stomach the thought of doing anything public. It's not that she fears getting caught, but rather that it makes her uncomfortable that anyone could see the two of you. Someone could just pass by and happen to get an eyeful of you - your pretty skin and curves, your lovely body that her eyes always seem to get stuck on, watching, wanting, yearning. She's not spontaneous in any way when it comes to sex, and she just doesn't see the allure of the risk or danger involved. She's too possessive; it takes her so long to even allow herself to see you naked, and to have a stranger do that and even see your face while she's pleasuring you, while you're coming? The thought makes her nen flare up, the urge to wrap you in her arms and keep the world from even catching a glimpse of you only growing stronger. Even aside from her possessiveness, the idea of doing something where others could see you makes her nervous, too, because Machi isn't entirely confident in her abilities to actually please you in the bedroom. Sure, she understands female anatomy and has a good sense of what you like from all that stalking, but actually doing it? That's a different thing entirely - and the pressure of pleasing you coupled with the pressure of other people potentially watching her struggle makes her feel uncomfortable, a foreign, heavy sense of self doubt settling heavily in her gut. It's just not for her - sex belongs in the bedroom, or perhaps the couch or kitchen table. Not outside of your 'shared' apartment, and certainly not where someone else could get an eyeful of what's hers.
Pakunoda will still jump on the opportunity to pleasure you and be pleasured, but in general she'll be hesitant if the both of you are still fully clothed. She doesn't see the appeal of clothed sex - she wants you completely bared to her, utterly raw, your body on display for her to worship and touch and mark. She thinks keeping the clothing on is not only impractical, but diminishes the intimacy between the two of you. You'll get all sorts of sticky, hard to clean things staining the clothes, and because she can be a little snobby about materialistic delights like luxury clothing, she's not exactly keen on getting your slick all over her nice clothes. (Although, she wouldn't be entirely opposed to having your slick all over her skin, like you're leaving a mark of possession on her. Just not the clothes.) Clothes stop her from being able to fully explore your body, and, as much as she'd never admit it, when you have your clothing on it makes it much harder to use her nen on you. That is, while it makes her feel a little dirty and slimy, she will be using her ability to dig into your memories for any information on your kinks and fantasies, just because she wants to make sex as perfect and pleasurable for you as she possibly can. So shed the layers with her - it makes things so much better. Plus, the sight of you bare and squirming underneath her, looking all pretty and submissive and cute is certainly a drool worthy sight.
All things considered, Shizuku Murasaki is actually kind of picky about sex. She likes things to be her way or the highway, and as her darling you'll be forced to go along with all of her preferences and wants. And while she loves all things oral, there are a few things she's absolutely unwilling to do. Namely, while she worships you and cherishes you as much as a mass-murderer can, she will not indulge you in anything involving your asshole. It's a cleanliness thing for her; she knows you're clean (she'd just bathed with you this morning and personally hand washed you, paying very, very careful attention to your cunt), but she has a mental block against having her mouth anywhere near that part of you. She's always felt this way with every partner she's had - she just doesn't understand the allure of anal, whether that be fingering, oral, or penetration. She'd much, much rather pay attention to other areas of your body - your pussy, your thighs, your breasts, your mouth. She'll always shy away when she's got her face between your legs, but unfortunately for you, this courtesy does not extend to you too. She doesn't expect you to do anything with her ass, but she certainly won't stop you if you're getting too close, or if you get the desire. She'll just blink at you and tell you to be careful, then pull your head in by your hair and get you closer and closer and closer, enjoying the experience despite herself. Shizuku is a little hypocritical in a lot of aspects in sex, but this is one particular area where she's absolutely unfair.
Hisoka Marrow is a freak in every sense of the word. Genuinely, there is very, very little you could do that would cause him to fall out of the mood, or to rid him of the insistant, raging boner nearly everything you do gives him. He'll try anything once, and he firmly believes in keeping your sex life interesting and varied. That said, he certainly has preferences, and one thing that sits quite low on his list of preferred bedroom activities is to be worshipped. It's not that he doesn't want your attention and praise (he does, urgently), but rather that there's something about the position of being the one drowned in compliments and confessions of love that makes him a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because he's not used to being in such a submissive, vulnerable position, or maybe it's because he doesn't feel like he's got enough control of the situation. It doesn't really matter, because Hisoka will always send teasing remarks your way when you get the courage to be the dominant one, and that will almost always derail you enough to get you steering away from any territory that gets dangerously close to becoming too vulnerable and real for him. He loves you in his own twisted, strange way, but he's not ready to open himself up fully to you, to let you take full charge and just take care of him. He may never be ready, really, so any dreams you have of fully dominating him and reducing him to a trembling, fucked out mess will have to remain just that - dreams.
In general, Illumi Zoldyck will try most things you suggest. It's not that he's especially adventurous in the bedroom, but rather that you're the first person he's ever had any sexual contact with, and everything with you feels good, so he wants to try it all. He has very few boundries when it comes to you, and so consequently, there aren't too many things that turn him off. However, he does have two surefire things that he'll immediately and vehemently outright refuse. Firstly, he will absolutely not wear any protection. He turns his nose at the thought of condoms, and will only laugh in your face if you suggest using them for obvious reasons. He will be entering you in the most natural way possible, and he will be finishing as deeply inside of you as he can manage. Secondly, he absolutely will not allow another person to be involved in your sex life. There will be no third person in your bed, no other person for you to be pleasuring and be pleasured by. There is only you and Illumi - it's your sex life, and it makes his possessiveness flare up to dangerous proportions to imagine another person seeing you in such a vulnerable, intimate position. So really, don't even bother bringing up the idea - he won't even consider it, already shooting it down before you're finished getting the sentence out. (And after he finishes lecturing you about how another man or woman has no place in your bed, he'll promptly fuck you right then and there - no matter where you are - just to prove his point. He's all you need, after all.)
Sex with Kurapika Kurta is soft and sensual. It can be a little rougher if he's had a particularly bad day, or if he's recently had a run in with the Troupe, but for the most part he makes love rather than fucks. And because of this, he really, really doesn't like seeing you cry during sex. It makes him uncomfortable, his instincts begging him to comfort you and eliminate whatever caused your tears. He associates crying with the early days of when he'd kidnapped you, back when you were still terrified of him and much too scared to even stand to look at him, much less allow him to touch you. And particularly in the context of sex, he does not want to be reminded of all the horrible things he's done to you - things are good now, happy, and you've finally come around to the idea that he loves you, that you'll spend the rest of your life with him. And so, the moment there are tears beading at your eyes, he's immediately going soft, his palms cupping your cheeks as he stares wildly at you, asking in a rushed, still breathless voice if you're alright, if you're hurt, if you're upset and who he needs to kill to right this wrong. He overreacts, and it always, always turns into either self hatred aimed at himself for ruining your happiness, or a bloodthirsty desire to kill whoever is upsetting you. The only exception to his hatred of you crying is when it's done because you're too overstimulated, the pleasure too much for you to even process. When you're so fucked out from the pleasure he gave you, then the tears are acceptable. He still doesn't like them all that much, but it's at least a sign that he's treating you well, that he's able to make you feel good and pleasured, and it makes pride swell in his chest. So in general, try not to cry in front of him - he goes flaccid in mere seconds, his protective nature ramping up and any semblance of sexiness gone immediately.
When Leorio Paradinight has you in bed, he's almost in a state of utter awe, almost unable to really process what's going on. He's just so incredibly aroused by you, even if you're just laying beside him with your clothes fully on, and because of this he's game to try pretty much anything you want in bed. He's genuinely just so fucking excited to be with you that he'll do basically anything you want, no matter how degrading or gross or off the wall. That said, however, he doesn't really understand the appeal of pet play. He doesn't harbor any fantasies of you donning a set of bunny ears or a tail or anything of the sort, simply because he doesn't really like fantasies that change you, even if it's something as trivial as your ears. He thinks of you as perfection, and that includes every proportion of your body, every freckle, mole, hair and blemish you could have, and he doesn't want to pretend that you aren't exactly who - and what - you are. Besides, he just doesn't see the appeal; he wants you to talk and moan for him when he's touching you, not have you purr or whine or any other animal noise. He thinks it's a little weird, if he's being honest, and while he'll begrudgingly agree if you beg him to try it out (he'll do anything to see you smile, after all), his orgasm won't come as pathetically easily as normal. This extends to pet play where he's the one dressing up as a pet, too - he's more likely to enjoy it this way, but there's something humiliating about the butt plug tail and the fox ears, and it's humiliating in all the wrong ways. He's just not too big of a fan - now if you wanted to get some sort of ownership roleplay going that didn't involve pets or animals, he'd be all over that - the moment you refer to yourself as mommy or his mistress, he's practically creaming his pants, getting on his knees for you and begging for you to touch him. (And maybe even step on him, depending on how needy he's feeling that day.)
Razor, despite sometimes losing control in bed and getting a little rougher than he means to, will never willingly hit you in bed. He doesn't like the idea of slapping you. He might gently pat your ass when you're bouncing on top of him, but it's only just enough to make you yelp, only enough to make a slight smack noise of skin against skin. Hitting you - even in the context of sexual pleasure - reminds him too much of his younger days, back when he was a criminal and was much less controlled, much more dangerous. And really, that's the last thing he wants you to see him as - he wants you to take comfort in him, to want him to hold you and touch you, and he's sure that even if you want him to get rough with you and manhandle you, to smack your cheek and tell you to behave for him, you will start associating him with pain and violence. And he just can't have that - not after all the work he's gone through to prove that despite kidnapping you, he's not the monster you think he is. (Besides, there's just something more meaningful about softer, sweeter sex - he's fucked more women than he'd care to admit, but you're the first one he's gone slow with, the first one he's really taken his time with. And while it might be stupid, that makes you different in his eyes - like he's saved something special for you, like the passionate, romantic side of him that comes out when he's got you naked and stretched out on his fingers is something only you'll ever get to see.)
Another man who tries to keep things a bit vanilla in the bedroom (not for the same reasons as Razor, but rather because he just genuinely prefers more intimate and tame sex) is Knuckle, who can't stand the thought of recording your intimate times. He does objectively think the idea is a bit hot, but he's too worried that somehow the recordings will get leaked, that somehow other people will get their hands on precious recordings of him making love to you, of him making you moan and sigh and fall apart on his tongue and fingers and cock. He views the time you both spend together in the sheets as being almost sacred, like something special that's reserved only for the two of you, and having a camera rolling would just make everything feel too impersonal. It would make him nervous, too, because he'd want to rewatch the tapes with you just so he can see your face the whole time (he tends to lose himself the closer he gets to his orgasm, and always buries his face in your neck to try and make himself last longer, so he misses seeing your facial expressions when he's finishing inside you), but he'd be worried about the way he looks, about whether he looks attractive to you, dominant to you, sexy to you. However, despite his reservations about recording himself fucking you, he will photograph you in the pretty, feminine lingerie he buys for you. He'll get a new color or cut, and have you try on the set, posing for the camera while he takes a few shots, his pants visibly straining around his swollen cock because god, you look good. He'll keep the photographs in his pants pocket and never, ever share them, always looking back at them when he's away on missions and missing you. He's a bit hypocritical, but the moment a camera gets trained on him, he's turning red and clamming up.
Morel is another one who's very flexible in the bedroom, and would be difficult to completely turn off. However, one thing that Morel just simply can't get behind is watersports. He'll try it, if you really beg him to, but he just doesn't like it. It feels unsanitary to him (and god, the mess), but even beyond that it just feels a little degrading, and not in a good way. If you really, really pushed him on it, he'd give in and do as you please, reluctantly forcing himself to release onto you, but the entire time he'd be feeling guilty, discomfort eating at him because isn't it horribly disrespectful to be literally pissing on you? He loves you, and it just sits wrong with him. He'll refuse after that first time, and while he's not particularly into it, if you really, really wanted to, he'd let you reverse the roles. He's not particularly eager to have you wet yourself or piss on him, but that's better because now at least you're the one in the position of power. Plus, you're begrudgingly a little cute when you get all embarrassed about it. But still, it's most definitely not something he desires, and while he'd entertain your fantasies once in a blue moon, it certainly won't be a regular occurrence in your sex life together.
Wait do share your thoughts on troupe darlings' therapy sessions ( if you are up to it ofc.)
Tw: heads up this is long, kidnapping, mentions of non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Stockholm syndrome/mind breaks, brief mentions of Nobunaga's jar but nothing explicit, recording, set in an au where all members of the Troupe have their own darling
Of course! I've gotten a few asks about this topic, so I'll just answer it in one big go!
The idea to even have the 'therapy sessions', or awkward, forced meetings between the various darlings of the Troupe, mainly comes from, surprisingly, Uvogin. He's one of the ones who cares the most about preserving who his darling is, even now that they've been kidnapped by him - he wants them to stay them, and he's watching them slowly slip away with every passing day. Maybe, by allowing them interaction with other people besides himself (in a controlled, safe environment where he can easily pull them away, where he can watch and make sure they're not getting too close to anyone else), they'll slowly regain all that liveliness he fell in love with. Maybe they'll become themselves, again.
The rest of the Troupe is split down the middle about whether this is a good idea - some of the more lucid yanderes, like Franklin and Pakunoda, are supportive. Of course, they don't like the idea that their darling will be looking at others, speaking with them and - god forbid - letting others touch them (in platonic ways, of course - should feelings develop between the darlings, measures will be taken to forbid their interactions), but they know it's best in the long run. The yanderes can take it, with clenched fists and gritted teeth, because it's for them, for their lovely, sweet little darling, and if it gets them to love the yandere more, they'll do anything they can.
Others, like Nobunaga and Feitan, are more reluctant. They don't like stomaching the thought of their darling spending time with anyone other than themselves, and for some of them, they don't even realize their darling is unhappy. They're resistant to the idea at first, but at Chrollo's orders, they're reluctantly dragging their darling along, telling them that they'd better behave or else, or that everything will be find and he'll be right there, so don't worry baby I'll get you if someone makes you uncomfortable. (Feitan and Nobuanga, respectively, though their darlings won't have the heart to tell either of them that their words aren't especially reassuring.)
Regardless, the sessions happen roughly once a month - at a designated meeting spot, all members of the Troupe will bring their darlings. The darlings are placed into a room with a circle of chairs, a camera trained on them from the corner of the room just to make sure nothing too extreme occurs. The yanderes are all in the next room over - except, the wall may look like it's solid to the darlings, but it's really one way glass, and the yanderes can watch it all in live time. This makes some of them nervous, because they don't like the fact that the other members could be so freely ogling their darling (none of them are, they're all too busy staring at their own partner, but that's besides the point). But it's how it must be done, according to Chrollo, in order to make sure the darling is really getting the most out of the experience.
It's what's best for them, he'll tell his followers. He conveniently doesn't mention how he'd threatened his own darling with violence against the other darlings should they step out of line - an empty threat, really, because harming another member's darling is suicide, even given their devotion to Chrollo, but you don't know that.
The yanderes spend their time chatting amongst themselves or just staring, everyone too focused on their own darling to really pay attention when their neighbor begins prattling on about how wonderful and great and perfect their own beloved is.
The ones who just sit silently and stare are Feitan, Machi, and Pakunoda. They'll nod at another member if the conversation is started, but it quickly becomes apparent that they aren't really listening. It's not that they don't want to listen to their fellow member gush about their partner (well, Feitan doesn't, but still) - rather, they just can't take their eyes off their darlings. They're mesmorized, watching the way they smile and laugh, things they never do with their captor. They're trying to memorize everything about their darling, fascinated and captivated (and, in Feitan's case, aroused) by seeing their darling genuinely enjoy themselves.
The ones doing all the talking (bragging, really) about their darlings are Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku. They just simply won't shut up - they're beaming at their darling through the glass, prattling on and on about how beautiful they are and how they squeal just right when they fuck them a certain way. A lot of details are being thrown out there that really, really don't need to be, but once they start talking they just can't stop. When these yanderes end up next to each other, the atmosphere turns almost competitive, each yandere talking about how their darling has a prettier smile or is more loving, only for the other yandere's aura to flare up and a strained smile cross their face as they say okay, but my darling has a better laugh and has willingly sucked me off. It's a never ending battle, and frankly, the more lucid yanderes are left grimacing because god, none of this needs to be shared.
The ones who are pretending to listen, and sort of are (they're multitasking, but it's difficult to spend equal energy on watching you and listening to their companion talk about someone they don't care about) are Chrollo, Phinks, Franklin and Shalnark. They'll hum along and agree that their companion's darling is very lovely, indeed, but internally they're too busy comparing how much better their own darling is, mentally listing all of the things they're superior at and reaffirming their own feelings. It's unhealthy, but it's a pastime that makes them happy, because it just cements how perfect their darling is. (And it makes Nobunaga's ramblings - which are particularly disturbing - a little easier to stomach.)
As for the darlings, things are, at best, awkward.
They just don't know each other - the chances of any of the darlings having known each other before becoming their captor's targets is very unlikely, because most of the yanderes find their darlings while out on heists or in between jobs. That fact mixed with all the trauma they've each undergone as a captee for a member of a notorious criminal organization leaves everyone hesitant to talk, particularly for those who know for a fact that their yandere has killed people they've said as little as a goodmorning to.
But all it takes for this terse atmosphere to slowly evaporate is for them all to realize that all of them share this trauma, that they have something in common because what they're all experiencing is horrible. What will end up happening is that two darlings will hit it off, talking about all of the terrible things their captor has done, and then another darling will chime in. Then another. And another.
Eventually, they'll all begin bonding over just how different yet similar their situations are. A comradery is formed, and while it's born out of a sad, horrible situation, the ties these darlings form will be some of the closest, most meaningful friendships they've ever had. Soon, they'll all be looking forward to these monthly meetings, because they feel so seen and heard and understood - things that are difficult to come by with the only other person they spend their time with.
Of course, as confessions are made and each darling takes turns complaining about their yandere, things slowly get put into perspective for each darling. That is, some of them realize just how good they have it - at least their yandere isn't as crazy as some of the others. Conversely, the darlings who are victims to the more unstable or extreme members of the Troupe realize just how crazy and unhinged their own captor is - it's a slap in the face, in the most cruel, horrible way.
I know you didn't ask for a ranking of which darling's got it best to worst, but I'm going to do it anyways! So, from most envied to least envied, we have:
As Pakunoda's darling, of course, you're the one every other darling is at least a little bit jealous of. When the time comes for each darling to vent their frustrations for a bit, you can really only say that you've been kidnapped and aren't allowed to leave, and... that's kind of it. Pakunoda is respectful (or, at least, as much as she can be), and she treats you well - you're well fed, not forced into affection, and not treated like you're helpless. (She's still quite protective over you, and she'll hover when you're doing something potentially dangerous, but she won't immediately step in unless the danger is about to strike.) She spoils you with all your favorite items and supplies for your hobbies, making sure everything is fully stocked and that you never get bored. She even sometimes takes you out for small dates - dinners at nice restaurants where you dine in their private rooms, going ice skating and having the rink all to yourselves, or even just walking around the park (she'd managed to get a replica made by Kortopi, so there's no people present, so there's no one for you to be distracted with). You're strictly kept at her side, of course, and you're not allowed to speak with anyone while you're out, but it's nice. Better than everyone else, at least.
2. Franklin's darling is also one that everyone is jealous of. Franklin's not particularly soft, but he's the least invasive of everyone in the Troupe. He knows everything about you, of course, but he's good at not showcasing that. He doesn't pamper you like Pakunoda does, but he gives you space and doesn't demand that you spend time with him or treat him like your lover. Mostly, he just checks in on you and asks if you need anything, then leaves you to your own devices. He's overprotective, yes, but this doesn't manifest itself in any extreme ways unless you give him a reason to be worried, like if you hurt yourself. The thing you'll be complaining about, really, is that he's scary. He'll compliment you (and the words will actually be sweet - his voice is soft and he's sporting a very light flush when he tells you that you're very pretty and you'll hate that it almost makes you feel good), but his stature and his status as a criminal will leave you feeling on edge nearly all the time that you're with him. He hasn't hurt you, but you've seen his nen activated before, and the knowledge that he could kill you with just one shot will make your stress levels high, constantly. This doesn't seem like too serious of a complaint to all the other darlings, however, because all of their captor are dangerous and scary.
3. The only reason that Bonolenov's darling is not at the top of the list is because he's a little bit strange. Of course, they all are - they're murderers and thieves, after all. But Bonolenov has some very strict and traditional values, and this gets projected into how he treats you. He's respectful in terms of your boundaries when it comes to anything physical or with your own liberties (like sleeping on your own or dressing yourself), but he's a fan of the idea of the male protector and female provider. That is, while he doesn't expect you to be his housewife, you kind of become one. He wants you to do all the cooking and cleaning, and he'll repay you by spoiling you with your favorite items and gifting you all kinds of jewelry, clothing, and assorted goods. (And, surprinsgly, they're actually not all stolen - in fact, he tries not to steal things for you, because he thinks the gesture should be done with his own money, because then he's really spoiling you like a good husband should.) He treats you well outside of this, but he's pretty strict about your role around the small house he keeps you locked up in. If you get all your assigned work done, however, he's a pretty easy captor to tolerate. So, outside of having to do the dishes or mop the floors, you'll be looked at as having a relatively desirable situation.
4. Uvogin is a bit of a strange yandere - he's forceful and loud, but he's not bad. You'll be treated like a queen, spoiled with everything and anything you could ever want, and there's no shortage of compliments and playful teasing coming your way. He's got no issues expressing the way he feels for you, but that's exactly the reason why he ranks fourth overall. He's touchy. He won't force you into anything sexual that involves forcing himself onto you, but he'll make you cuddle with him, kiss him, let him hold you, and all kinds of other 'romantic' things. He'll slap your ass when you pass by him, loving the way you yelp and how you glare at him a bit, because he finds your feistiness adorable. He's very physical with you, but he still doesn't hurt you or make you touch him in a way that isn't with decently innocent intent. And so, as his darling, your main complaint is that he just won't leave you alone - you don't get much space with him, but at least he isn't forcing you to fuck him or be his punching bag. All the other darlings (particularly those with yandere who like to keep their hands to themselves) pity you a bit, but they recognize that all things considered, you've got it good.
5. Honestly, as Phinks's darling, you'll be left to realize that wow, maybe I really don't have it so bad. Sure, Phinks is awkward, a horny, blushing mess who's compliments and barely disguised desire for you makes you a bit uncomfortable, but he's not the worst. Your main complaint with him is his temper - he tries his absolute hardest to never, ever harm you, but sometimes he can get carried away. More often than not he'll channel his rage by punching the wall or ripping apart a pillow, but you'll be left to watch, staring with wide eyes and harsh breaths as he absolutely destroys something inanimate. He's only ever slapped you or hit you once, and he still feels guilty for it to this day, but there's always this little piece of you that's walking on eggshells, terrified that you'll set him off and this time an object won't take the heat of his anger. The other darlings are sympathetic, of course, but they can't help but feel a little jealous because at least he doesn't force himself on you, and there's something kind of endearing about awkward men, right?
6. Machi is the classic, textbook ideal captor. She feeds you well, makes sure you have a comfortable place to sleep, treats any injuries or sicknesses you may develop, and is almost always not around you. And while that may sound nice in theory (and in practice the first week or so), eventually it doesn't stay so idyllic. Because she's always gone, the loneliness and Stockholm Syndrome will kick in very, very fast. You'll realize that she's all you've got - she's the only one you see with any sort of regularity, her bringing you meals twice a day the only interaction you have that day. It'll make you slowly begin craving her. (This is actually a bit ironic, because it's not intentional at all - Machi only avoids you because she's scared to get too close to you and doesn't want you to manipulate her. It's a pleasant side effect, but it actually only makes her more nervous, because now that you want her all the time, she gets overwhelmed easily and has to walk away or else she'll just spill everything she's thinking and feeling, and that would not be a good thing.) Aside from your dependence on her growing too quickly and too strongly, you won't have much to complain about - in fact, you may even complain about her lack of interaction with you, something that makes her eyes go wide and her back get rigid as she watches and listens from the next room over.
7. Shizuku is, for all intents and purposes, not the absolute worst. The thing that makes her undesirable to have as a yandere is that she just genuinely doesn't understand why you'd be uncomfortable with any of the things she's forced onto you. She doesn't see why you wouldn't want to be stuck with her, or why you always ask her to stop when she's kissing you and touching you and shoving her fingers inside of you. She just doesn't get it, and no amount of you trying to explain to her or convince her that you don't want to be intimate with her will ever actually get through to her. It's because of this that the other darlings pity you - your time to complain is spent ranting and raving about how she's so incredibly dismissive of everything I'm feeling and saying - it's like she genuinely doesn't care! She says she loves me, but how can you love someone and so compeletly disregard them? The other darlings feel your pain channeled in their own relationships - it is unfair that they've been kidnapped and that they're being held against their will, all while being told that their captor loves them and wants to keep them safe and sound. It's hypocritical, but at least they aren't completely ignoring their darlings, or - for the most part - forcing themselves onto their darlings. Most everyone can sympathize with you, and while it isn't to the extreme Shizuku takes it, there's a little bit of your story in everyone else's. Although, everyone else doesn't have to worry about the times Shizuku forgets she's kidnapped you, then panics when she can't find you to stalk you. That's a problem unique only to you.
8. The reason why Chrollo's so far down this list is because as his darling, you know just hard he's trying to manipulate you. That's not to say it isn't working, but it's extremely obvious to every other darling present that Chrollo is doing a number on your mental state. In the span of your ten minute allotment of time to rant, you come up with at least three different opinions of him, all clashing and contradicting each other. At first, you're telling them how awful he is, how he's a monster and a creep and how he just won't leave me alone and I feel suffocated and scared and god, I hate him! (This makes Chrollo tense up as he watches, and a few of the other Troupe members watch with curious, concenred gazes because shit, they haven't seen Chrollo this visibly upset in years. But then you're circling back around, talking your way through rationalizing what he's done - but he doesn't hurt me, and he gets all kinds of wonderful things for me, and sometimes it even feels good when he kisses me and touches me. Eventually you'll come to the conclusion that he's a manipulative man, but I can't even be angry at him because it's working, and I don't know that I want to fight it. It makes everyone else uncomfortable, because you've just become complacent, but they won't try to correct you, instead trying to change the conversational topic and pitying you because although the entire world as at your fingertips (he'd give and do anything to make you smile, after all), he's destroying you, one word at a time.
9. Similarly to Chrollo, Shalnark is very, very good at getting what he wants out of people. He has no shame when it comes to manipulating you or lying to you in order to get the results he's looking for, and he actually takes pride in it, even. He's creepy and weird and scary, and as his darling you'll be another one that's just an anxious mess when it's your turn to complain. You'll tell the other darlings all about the cameras he's got everywhere, how he makes you watch footage of yourself, how he always seems to know even the smallest, most intimate details about yourself and your thoughts, and just the way you're shaking and nearly crying just from thinking about it makes their hearts ache for you. (Meanwhile, he's listening with wide eyes and a big smile, diligently noting which cameras you've noticed already, and mentally debating whether he should add more just to get you feeling even further backed into a corner so he can make his final move to completely break you, or if he should ease up a bit, because he really doesn't like seeing you cry like this.) You'll be pitited, of course, but at least your yandere actually pays attention to you - something that can't be said of all of them.
10. As Feitan's darling, this entire experience will be overwhelming for you. It's extremely likely that you had no idea why you've been kidnapped before you attend this session. Feitan isn't particularly expressive with how he feels for you, and you've been trying to figure out whether he was planning on kidnapping you, or if you're just some poor, unfortunate soul who seems to have been mistaken for somebody important - somebody worth kidnapping. Now, though, as it comes around to be your turn, you can only gape and stare at all the other darlings, asking in a small, shaky voice if all of your captors claim to be - claim to be in love with you? Then why am I here...? Cue the pitying looks, the hands covering their mouths, the darlings who feel for you because god, you've been living in a totally different kind of fear for these past few months, haven't you? However, your cluelessness about Feitan's true feelings for you is really the only reason he's so far down on this list. As you come to terms with your situation and complain about Feitan, you'll realize you don't have as many solid bullet points to rant about as you thought you did. He doesn't abuse you or hurt you, he doesn't touch you, he feeds you and gives you water, and he makes sure you have a warm, somewhat clean place to sleep. Sure, you may hear him torturing others or see him covered in blood or have to endure the constant staring, but at least he doesn't assault you or force you to pretend to be in a relationship with him. Although, if he truly kidnapped you out of some kind of 'love', was that your future? (Feitan's pissed that this is coming to light - it takes a very, very firm look from Chrollo to stop him from breaking through the glass and snatching you away, not wanting you to realize the actual reasons why he's kidnapped you. He won't acknowledge your questions afterwards, but it's too late, because now you know.)
11. And of course, coming in dead last (by quite a bit) is Nobunaga. He's similar to Shizuku in that what makes him so horrible is his total detachment form reality. He's just so belittling, dehumanizing, patronizing and fucking weird that every single darling's heart goes out to you, all of them pitying you but silently thanking anything that's listening that they didn't end up with him. Your time to complain is spent ranting about the way he treats you like a child, like you're incapable of anything and everything, and how frustrating and strange it all is. And then, of course, come the complaints about all of the sexual things he forces you into. Whether that's actual sex, touching in general, or even forcing you into becoming familiar with his infamous jar, everyone will realize just how much of a monster the samurai really is. (And so will the other Troupe members - most of them are disgusted by the details of his behavoir, staring at him with shocked expressions that are very poorly hid. Especially Machi, Franklin, and Pakunoda - the rest are, unfortunately, slightly intrigued by some of his habits - particularly his jar.)
Of course, all the yanderes are listening very intently when its their own darling's turn to vent, and while they won't punish you for what you've said (that would show you they were listening, and you might not feel so inclined to be as open and honest next meeting, something they absolutely cannot lose), they might try to adjust their behavior. Maybe. Some of them. Those towards the top of the list, at least. The others might buckle down and get worse, convinced that they're just not trying hard enough to get you to understand that you love them, too.
is the…cum jar…the reason why nobunaga is worse than shalnark…………
Tw: non-consensual recording, restriction of rights, smells (? natural body odor I guess?), implied non-con, if Shalnark could live with the smell of your pussy in his nose at all times then that smile of his would be genuine
The cum jar is the reason Nobunaga is worse than any of them.
(Including Feitan, so to the anon that asked why Nobunaga's darling is pitied more than Feitan's, that's the answer in simple, short terms.)
(But of course, aside from the jar, the excessive touching, referring to himself as Daddy, and the lack of consistent hygiene/showering certainly don't earn him any points, either.)
That's not to say that Shalnark doesn't have any issues or weird idiosyncrasies of his own, though. He's a little more subtle than Nobunaga, but not by too big of a margin.
Shalnark's penchant for recording you is really quite invasive. If the cameras he secretly placed in your apartment while he was still stalking you aren't enough proof of this, consider the fact that he's still recording you once he's kidnapped you, only he's less secretive about it now.
Now, instead of having small, discrete cameras placed into things like a stuffed animal, a book cover, or an unused outlet, they're just out in the open. The small, black cameras are clearly visible against the off-white walls of the apartment he keeps you in, standing out like a beacon. Plus, when the lights are off, the red flashing light on each is still on - taunting you from the corner of your vision, declaring that even while you're sleeping and he's not in the room, he's seeing everything.
They're everywhere, too - you've counted at least four in your bedroom space, one for each corner of the room. There's two in the bathroom; one covers the room at large, so he can see you brushing your teeth or drying yourself off or even using the toilet, and the other's angled to catch your every movement in the shower. (He's got an additional two waterproof ones in the shower that you don't know about yet - one sits in the center of the shower head (installed for the sole purpose of seeing and capturing everything should you decide to use the shower head for some stress relieving, personal activities), and one sits on the top of the plastic drain cover, so that he can get a nice view from below (when you drop your loofah or soap up your legs, the camera gets a nice, full view of your ass and cunt, a sight that Shalnark will always pause on and screenshot, the image being saved to the some dozens of photo folders he has dedicated to your nude body).
And he'll make you watch the footage with him, too - with a smile on his face and his fingers nearly trembling from his excitement and joy at seeing your horrified expression. He likes to narrate everything, too, prefacing with what you're about to do to show that he's already watched the footage multiple times - enough to be able to recite every action and move you make. He likes the way it makes you squirm, and he also just enjoys watching you, too.
Outside of that voyeuristic habit, Shalnark is certainly no saint when it comes to more risqué reasons why he might be placed lower on the desirability chart of Phantom Troupe yanderes. That is, he has this weird habit of limiting how often you can shower and bathe. At first, he uses this as a tactic to punish you or deter you from certain behaviors he deems undesirable. (Like avoiding his touch or ignoring him.) He figures that by letting you grow dirty and greasy and desperate to clean yourself, you'll be more likely to bend to his wishes, and frankly, it works - you feel disgusting with all the sweat caked into your skin, the sudden whiff of body order making you cringe when you move your arms (he won't provide you with deodorant, of course).
It'll drive you crazy, but no matter how complacent you are, or how receptive you are to his attempts at molding you into what he wants, Shalnark will become hesitant to give into your pleas to let you shower.
Because while he agrees that your skin feels better when it's freshly washed (softer, cleaner, more pure), there's something about the way you smell that gets him a little hot under the collar. It's your natural scent, something that's so you. It may be your body odor, sure, or just your pheromones (he likes to think that's what makes him want to rip off his pants and fuck you until you're crying nearly every time he sees you), but regardless, you'll find that he's much handsier and touchier when you haven't showered in a few days.
And frankly, that's saying a lot for Shalnark - he's already all over you, but now he's burying his face into your neck and inhaling, moaning at the way your skin smells. He's coming up behind you and pressing every inch of his body against yours, pinning your hips against the kitchen counter and letting his hands slip under your shirt to cup the undersides of your breasts, only to remove them and smell his hands because fuck your sweat smells good.
He's just weird, and it'll freak you out, making you both uncomfortable and self-conscious because there's absolutely no way he could enjoy the scents and odors that your body is producing. Why does he like the smell of your hair when it hasn't been washed in way too long? Why does he likes the smell of your cunt after it hasn't been washed in four days?
It's simple, really - because it's you, and Shalnark likes anything and everything that has to do with you. So he'll let you shower eventually, but he might only let you wash your hair (if you desire) or your armpits, perhaps. Areas he knows drive you crazy to have dirty. But other areas?
Well, if you know what's good for you, you won't touch your pretty little pussy without his explicit permission that you can wash it.
(Often, he'll throw you down onto the bed after you've exited the shower, forcing your legs apart and burying his face against your cunt, inhaling deeply and letting a smile sit comfortably on his lips, oddly genuine while a red flush sits high on his cheeks. You just smell too damn good, so don't be surprised when the smell of sex and musk and him get added to the mix, the cum dripping from your pretty little hole certainly not helping the smell.)
And really, that's what makes Shalnark so horrible - he's so omnipresent, worming his way into every aspect of your life, until you're asking him permission for anything and everything. And if you choose to disobey, all those cameras and recording devices will showcase the truth. (And even if they don't, he's got enough photoshopping and editing experience to make it look like you did whatever he wants.)
So while Nobunaga is ultimately the worst because you have to ingest his disgusting, rancid cum, Shalnark isn't too much of an upgrade. His humiliation and dehumanization is a different brand, yes, but it'll leave you feeling just as weak and incapable.
So really, pick your poison - I just happen to prefer greasy hair and constant surveillance over being forced to eat something made specially for you.
