#I JUST HAPPEN TO FALL IN LOVE WITH FICTIONAL MURDERERS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

Text

“My darling.” // CelticSlave!Aemond Targaryen x VestalVirgin!Reader

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

MDNI.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.

Summary: Fetching water a little later than usual shouldn't really affect much of your life right? You're wrong, and you wouldn't find out until you found a celtic slave in a bad condition named Aemond.

WARNINGS: extreme noncon to dubcon, unprotected p in v sex, blood kink, degradation, breeding kink, violence, blood, murder, slight angst, stockholm syndrome(?), reader basically falls in love with Aemond even though he nonconned her, manipulation. not exactly historically accurate, this is just fiction so do not take it heart, hoping it isn't offensive, + not proofread // requested by @slytherincursebreaker !!

WC: 3.5k

You were an illegitimate daughter of a politician in your country, taken away from your mother to keep the scandal underground, you never had an easy life and your father only did the bare minimum, and to say your step mother and half siblings did not like you at all, they saw you as a pest more than anything, when the pontifex maximus was choosing vestal virgins to serve the goddess vesta, he had eyes for your family, specifically your sister but she did not want to go, and so they sent you instead, seizing the opportunity to get rid of you.

It did not mean you were fully free from their clutches however, as you grew in the monastery you were always slightly discriminated against but the other 5 priestess, having heard the rumours about your bastardised birth. But you still managed to get by, you remember how earlier this morning your half sister came to visit you, telling you that she is to be married soon, she came to rub it in your face because you were sworn to celibacy, and you could not engage in activities like such. She even bought her suitor along, who you swore looked at you with such lust, and you felt very creeped out.

This is why you deliberately didn't go and fetch water from the spring earlier today, he often came to visit the temple and watched you perform your duties to the goddess vesta.

Choosing to fetch water at such a late time shouldn't have any repercussions right? I mean, you did not do it earlier because you had a reason not to, not wanting to entertain the eyes of your half sister's suitor, so you're doing it now.

Wrong.

You didn't realise the threat back then, when you found Aemond being beaten up by a bunch of other men, kindness was something that came to you naturally, seeing him in such a state made your heart wrench, you shooed off the other men, reprimanding them for their behaviour and used your status as a vestal virgin to scare them off before looking down at the man who was covered in mud, and seemed to bleeding.

He had silver blonde hair, with only one eye as the other socket seemed empty, you wondered what had happened to him.

“Are you alright?” you ask and you he groans, turning over unto his back, you should leave, you shouldn't help him, but here you are picking him up, leaning his body weight against you and bringing him through one of the secret tunnels in underneath the infrastructure of the building, it was connected directly to another country, was made to use it in order to escape from war or to invade other lands, none of the common folk knew about this, and the people who knew didn't come here often either, as there was no such need for it anymore.

You sit him down in one of the 'rooms' which is just a big spacious squared tunnel, he plops down unto the ground weak and tired, breathing heavily, you quickly went back outside and fetched the water you forgot about and gave some of it for him to drink, you watched as he whimpered, swallowing in pain before he finally looked at you.

“T-thank you.” his voice was so weak, he was barely able to get any words out.

You gave him a gentle smile, and you realised that it was probably late, you had many questions for him but you kept it to yourself for now because you didn't want to bother him anymore, so left back to the temple where you resided.

“Why are you up so late?” you heard the head vestal ask, raising an eyebrow as she took in your appearance, mud covering your prestigious clothing, “I went to fetch the water head priestess, but I fell down on the way back.” you lie looking down, hoping she believes it, and to your surprise, she does believe it, she tells you to go to your quarters after putting the water down, so you do just that.

You visit the badly hurt person from yesterday once again, you knew you were not supposed to have any type of contact with a man, to remain pure as they will taint you, but you really could care less when its about helping others, you found him lying on the ground, likely sleeping, but your footsteps woke him up and he looked at you curiously, you gave him a small smile before giving him the bread you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing, along with water, you gave it to them and sat down, he reluctantly ate it before drinking the water. “Why are you doing this?” he asked you and you shrugged, “Is it so wrong to help a fellow human out?” you question back and he goes quiet, “You i never really got your name, or how you ended up in that situation.” you tilt your head as you watch him purse his lips.

“I am a celtic sex slave.”

You froze, he was a slave.

“My mistress threw me out, and I ended up on the streets without any shelter, and those men just wanted someone to mess with.” he sighs, swallowing the bread. You felt pity for him.

“Till you found me of course, I am extremely indebted to you my lady.” he says and you shake your head no, “I’m no lady, I am a vestal virgin that title is not of my belonging.” You said, and he tilted his head, not understanding what you had meant, he nodded but then his eyes widened “This is such an honour to be in the presence of such a being, sorry you must see me in this state, and… You had to touch me as well.” he apologises and you look down, you shake your head and tell him that it's okay and you did not mind.

You and Aemond had grown closer, he would tell you about his life before he became a sex slave, how he was treated, how you felt extremely bad, how your people treated the Celtics. And so you shared your problems in return as well, he provided you comfort which you lacked all of your life, for the first time you felt wanted, and you could not ignore the feeling that was starting to bloom inside you.

But you pushed it down, you are a celibate, you should not be feeling such things.

Aemond had taken a liking to you, you had a pretty soul as well as a pretty face, the way you looked in your white clothing, and whenever you would fix your scarf over the head afraid that your hair or skin would show made him more curious to see what is underneath the thick robes of clothing even more. He knows damn well that he isn't the first man to ever lust for a vestal virgin, there were many depraved others.

After Aemond recovered, you had showed him around the tunnels and dungeons, various routes that if something happens he can use them to escape, and you also showed the route which led to his country, and he noted it, telling you that he can use this to go back to his own people again and you gave him a small smile.

Though the thought of him leaving makes your heart wrench.

“Aemond, I have to go and attend to my duties now, I will meet you later okay?” you say quickly before leaving.

Though the later never came.

“She was caught sneaking around with a slave apparently, she kept him hidden, surely she committed adultery as well.” you heard the voice of the chief priestess tell the priest.

“That is utmost dishonourable, as a vestal virgin you are sworn to celibacy, how can you do this?!” He yells at you and you flinch, tears streaming down your face.

“I promise! I promise on the flame of vesta that nothing happened between us! I was just helping him out.” you plead on your knees.

“How can I believe you? That you are not ruined? You were helping a sex slave out? you want me to believe that?” he questions and you shake your head.

“Order her death by live burial, she will be buried underground with no food or water.” he commands, tone final.

You watched as one of the virgins who snitched on you, she smiled cruelly and your face turned into a scowl. She was the one who wasn't a virgin, yet you kept her secret knowing what would happen if others found out, but the moment she discovered something about you? She had gone straight to the chief priestess and told her, even fed her lies.

“No! No! Please listen to me! Nothing happened between us! You can check for my virginity if you want! Please.” you cried, at the priest and he simply dismissed you.

You were grabbed by his guards and were being led to your doom, dragged out of the temple forcefully and then the trial was processing when you heard a commotion, accompanied by panicked screams.

“There has been a rebellion! The celtics have rebelled against us!” You hear someone yell, and everyone panics, the guards that were holding you quickly let go before rushing off to fight, you run after them and go to the temple as well, eyes widening in horror as you saw the blood and how few of priestesses were being violated brutally by the rebels, their clothes were being torn by the celtic soldiers and you were spotted by two men who came over to you, grabbing you by your hands and shoving you onto the ground.

“This one's pretty, let me have her cunt first.” you screamed at them to let go and they fought against them, kicking one of them in the shins cause the man to stumble and fall, “This bitch–”

“Stop.”

They both immediately froze up and turned around, and you froze as well, recognizing the voice. “This one is mine, unless you want your heads fucking cut off, fuck off.” he spits harshly at them, and they bow their head before scurrying off and you furrow your eyebrows, Aemond looks at you with a smirk, the empty eye socket from before now held a blue sapphire in its place snuggly.

“This would not have been possible without you, I shall spare you for this.” he begins, pulling you up on your legs by the hair.

“W-why are you doing this?!” you asked in fear and Aemond shrugged before explaining, “For the benefit of my people of course, you Romans have treated us as nothing but barbarians, however I do not blame you for that, you are a kind soul.”

“I threw my life away for this, let myself get touched by filthy hands for this moment, and finally, it was all worth it in the end.” he chuckles cruelly, and you scrunch your face in a scowl, “The emperor—” you begun but you are quickly cut off by him yanking your hair and making you face where a body was laying, head detached from the body, he tuts, “This one?” he pulls out a head and shoves it right up into your face and you push it away, screaming, he lets gos of the head and it falls to the ground rolling away.

“He was nothing but a coward, running off in the secret tunnels, letting his people die, unworthy of ruling over the people, so instead, I became the new emperor.” he clarifies.

“If you are going to kill me, just do it already.” you spit, and he looks surprised at this.

“Doll, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago, besides I said that I would already spare you, since you were a kind soul, and once again, without you, I would not be here.” he smiles cruelly and you feel your stomach twist.

His grip on your hair leaves before it's attached to your forearm, hand gripping the skin cruelly as he drags you somewhere, and you noticed that it was the head priestess room, the nearest one in the temple. You quickly realised what he wanted to do, so you started struggling, annoyed by this, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, before carrying and entering the room inside, securing the curtain shut before he threw you on the bed.

You try to get up and run away but he pushes you on the bed, gets on top of you, and yanks your clothes away, tearing at your robes harshly, revealing your body to him, you quickly hide yourself but he pins your hands to your side and takes in your body, he groans at the sight of your chest heaving up and down, you wriggle underneath him, trying to kick him off but he captures your legs and pushes them apart before planting himself in between them.

“No! Please! No!” you cry out but he shuts you up with one of his hands, the other one quickly undoes his breeches, revealing his hard cock, he gives himself a few pumps and lines it up against your entrance. His tip prods at your entrance, he doesn't wait a second before shoving his cock inside of you, ripping your walls apart, making you scream in pain as you struggled beneath him, he watches as your blood leaks onto his cock, and his smiles at that before he looks at you, watching tears stream down your face as he takes what he wants, he immediately sets his pace at a brutal one, ramming his cock in and out of you.

Each movement was painful for you, your cries and screams muffled by his hand, your body jolting up the bed as he brutally thrusts inside, traumatising your walls, the free hand grips your breasts cruelly before he pinches your nipple harshly, causing you to arch your back, and whine loudly.

Using the least amount of strength you have you push him heavily off, and to your luck it works cause he is caught off guard making him fall next to you, and before you could get up and run, he grabs your waist and pushes you back onto the bed again, getting on top of you and choking your neck with both his hands.

“I was going to spare you, but it seems you do not want that, take it or fucking die.” he spits on your face and you wince, crying out once again as he enters inside you.

Your body betrays you, you know it when it suddenly starts to feel good, his tip hitting a certain spot inside of you, and soon you're moaning as well, unable to process this foreign sensation. “Yeah, that's more like it, my brave girl.” he coos and bends down to kiss your neck and you whimper when he bites down at your sensitive area.

You grab onto his shoulders for support, and he hums in satisfaction, one of his hands travel down to your clit before rubbing fast circles it, and you felt your stomach tighten at that, before something snapped and you were moaning extremely loudly, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure hit you like a huge wave.

You cried out his name, and he hushed you and continued to thrust inside of you, grunting, you felt his thrusts become more sloppy before he halted, pushing himself into you as far as he could go, and moaned as his seed spurted out of him, he slowly rode it out, painting more of your walls white.

“I want to see you pregnant.” his hand rests on the lower part of your abdomen, as he caresses it gently with his thumb, before pulling out and leaning down to pepper kisses on the area, as if a kiss will ensure your pregnancy.

His hands fondle with your boobs, thumbs flicking the nipples as he massages the flesh, “they will be filled with milk..” he says in a daze.

You saw him getting hard again and your eyes widened, before you could get up on your elbows, he pushed you down once again again, holding your legs apart and pushing them up, making the knees bend, touching your chest.

He lines his cock before shoving it brutally inside again, he trapped you in a mating press while he thrusted above, your walls drummed with pain at the overstimulation, you were whimpering.

“Fucking it take it you slut, look at how your expression matches that of a whore.” he degrades you, hips snapping at each words, you felt a sting in your heart at his mean behavior.

“This is what you were made for, to be a fucking whore that men can use, not a vestal virgin, having this much of a perfect cunt and wasting it is unbelievable.” he groans and you feel tears start to fall down at his insults.

He pulled back and groaned at the sight of how there was still blood covered on his cock, your blood which coated him so perfectly, and he felt him nearing his edge, his hand gripped your cheeks before forcing your mouth open and then he spit into it, “Swallow, you whore.” he commands and you obey scared.

“Fuck, you're my whore aren't you? my pretty little whore who will let me fuck my children into.” he moans. “I can't wait to make you mine, my empress who will rule along with me, give me children, my darling- oh fuck—”

You felt the familiar feeling of heat arise in your stomach again, as he hits the same spot again and again, and soon enough, you're once again reaching your peak, arching your back at the intensity, he then finishes inside of you again.

That night was a nightmare, he took you multiple times, he made you take him in your mouth, and he did the same, lapping at your cunt for hours on end as he relished in your taste.

You remember passing out, unable to take anymore as exhaustion weighed upon you.

You woke up groaning, you slept like a baby, that's until you moved a little bit and your body aches like hell itself, and you get up, stretching to relieve the pain, you looked over to your side and spotted Aemond fast asleep, completely bare and then you remembered the events of the night prior.

You saw the sheets which were now covered in your blood, your virgin blood, and you were pure no more. You felt doom settle in your core but you felt relieved in a weird sense of way.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside, you gathered whatever was left of your robes before covering yourself with it, hiding your intimate parts and exiting the room.

You gasped as the scent of blood hit your nostrils, and almost threw up, but then what caught your eye made you surprised, you noticed how the head priestess, and all the people who have wronged you in the middle, tied up as the guards lazily kept them in check.

When they spotted you, they screamed insults at you and you winced, anger coursing through your veins at such an intense rate.

“My empress, look at them, look at the people who wronged you.” you heard Aemond whisper in your ear from behind you, and you got startled, you turned to look at him and you watched as he was almost naked except the sheets which were loosely held together by him on his lower body, hiding his intimate part, the same sheets which were covered in your blood.

“Look at them, see how they are still blaming you? What do you want to do huh? Does it not make you mad?” he asks and you turn your attention back to them again, it frankly does make you mad. “I would never treat you like that, I love you. My queen.”

“What do you want, my little empress?” he asks and you make up your mind.

You collect the water in a small dish and Aemond watches you in confusion, but then you make your way towards the flame of vesta, and pour water over it, putting it out and the head priestess' eyes widen in horror.

“Kill them all.” your voice was more clear than ever.

“Spare the head priestess, and that one, for they shall be buried alive.” you say coldly before you walk back to Aemond, who welcomes you in his arms.

“You heard your queen, do as she commands.” he orders his men before he escorts you away from the scene and into the room once again.

He pushes you on the bed and crawls atop of you, “I wasn't joking when I said I want you pregnant, doll.” he coos and you gulp.

“Impregnate me, my king, I want to carry your heirs.”

And that was enough to make Aemond go insane, before he took you once again.

And soon, you fell pregnant.

Giving birth to a girl, who Aemond adored.

Life seemed to be well and perfect.

Maybe you don't really regret this at all.

———

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

Bold is who I cannot tag, DM to be removed!

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #MAE:DARK!CONTENT #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!fic #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #house of the dragon smut #aemond fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 9 months ago

Text

Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.

“Not so confident now, huh?”

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.

And then nothing.

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.

She blacks out.

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.

She can't move.

It's dark again.

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.

“Max, she always responds.”

“I know Lando.”

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.

“What the fuck?”

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.

“-She’s asking for us.”

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”

“And what if I am?”

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.

“Get out!”

“We were just talking-”

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.

He’s not prone to violence.

Really, he’s not.

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”

“Equilibrium.”

“Yeah that!”

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.

She wins the next race.

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they’ve been so patient.

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.

She smiles back.

428 notes · View notes

antiquarianfics · 4 months ago

Text

Taken pt. 11

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: this is a direct result of the power of commenting/reblogging an author's work. someone said they were sad they didn't think i was going to finish this, and i realized i hadn't finished it, and i have some time for once, so i decided to be skibidi sigma. (gen alpha brainrot is starting to come out unironically. i work with middle schoolers. sorry.)

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

previous part | series masterlist | next part

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

—

You would think that months working for the enemy, followed by months locked up in a cell, followed by a month of trial, that finally ended in your freedom and return to your family would bring you peace.

It doesn't.

Sure, finally sleeping in your own bed again and cuddling up next to your husband was amazing, hugging your daughter again was amazing, having privacy again was amazing... but freedom and its perks don't erase trauma. You get to lie in your own bed again and cuddle up next to your husband, but you can't sleep lest the nightmares come. You get to hug your daughter again, but you're always looking over your shoulder, worried someone will snatch her away from you again. You get to have privacy, but you never trust that you're truly alone.

After everything that has happened, you realize, you will never be able to go back to how things were. You're a different person than you were before you and Becca were taken. You're a murderer now, not a hero. When you look at your hands, all you see is blood, and when you look in the mirror, all you see is a shell of the woman you once were.

—

The first week back home as a free woman is spent making amends, as per the recommendation of your court-mandated therapist.

"Steve, I am so sorry for trying to kill you. I... I don't even know what to say. If it weren't for Bec, I wouldn't've, but-" You say, throat dry, palms sweaty as you wipe them on your pants.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand. I forgive you. If anyone is going to understand turning on a friend to protect someone they care about, it's me." Steve gives you a comforting smile, his tone so earnest. "Just ask Tony and Bucky."

You crack a smile.

After Steve, came Fury and Coulson, the late presidents' family, the families of the many politicians you killed... the list felt unending as you worked your way through it.

It takes months to track down the loved ones of all the people you hurt while with HYDRA, and by the time you're finished with it, you're more exhausted than when you were literally locked up and starved while in HYDRA's custody.

With a huff and a frown, you flop onto the couch. You fall over the arm of the couch and land on your back. Bucky laughs a little as he watches your dramatic display, walking over and leaning over you, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

"Tired?" He asks.

"Yeah. This making amends stuff is exhausting. Don't know how you do it." You flop an arm over your eyes.

"Slowly but surely," he says. "And it helps that I have a super hot and supportive wife to encourage me when it feels like too much." He reaches over the couch and pokes your stomach. You giggle and squirm.

"I don't know that the 'hot' part helps the amends," you say pointedly.

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt."

You smirk but say nothing. Bucky watches for a moment.

"Well?" He asks finally.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to say it back?"

"Say what back?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"That having a super hot and supportive husband makes making amends easier," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. You lift your arm off your face to look at him; he's wearing a shit-eating grin.

"I guess it does help a little," you concede.

He jumps up, throwing his arms in the air in victory. It's a little out of character for him, but it makes you laugh. He's been going out of his way to make you laugh, even when it includes him doing things that feel unnatural to him. Bucky Barnes wants his wife back, yes, but he is also aware that after everything that you went through, you won't be the same. Things won't go back to normal: there will just be a new normal. In the meantime, he just wants you to laugh a little while you figure out what your new normal is.

—

At some point, you fall asleep on the couch. Bucky leaves you there, afraid to move you lest you wake up. Ever since your captivity with Frost and HYDRA, you've been having nightmares that Bucky worries rival his. Any nightmare-free sleep you get is rare and needed.

Bucky had lain a blanket over you before putting Becca to bed and heading to bed himself, and even though he'd deny it, he was exhausted, too. So when your nightmares start, he doesn't wake up.

The nightmare starts out slow, and you toss and turn in your sleep, pitiful whimpers leaving your lips. Though, it doesn't take long for the nightmares to progress. Soon, you've tossed the blanket onto the floor and your whimpers have turned into screams. Bucky doesn't hear, but Becca does.

The 4 year old walks through the apartment, leaving her room quietly in search of her screaming mother. She's scared; she's never heard you scream like this. While locked up, she heard you scream in anger—she still remembers how you screamed and pulled the chains out of the wall—but she has never heard you scream in fear. Until now. Her mommy has always been the bravest person she knows, and that's even braver than her daddy—he said so himself.

Clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand, she slowly walks into the living room where she can see you flailing and screaming on the couch.

"Mommy?" Becca calls out softly, nervously. When you don't answer, she tries again, moving closer still. "Mommy, wake up."

Again, you don't answer. You're still deeply asleep. Becca walks up to the couch and stands right beside you. Tentatively, she places the hand not holding her rabbit against your shoulder and shakes.

"Mommy, wake up."

When you still don't wake up, she shakes your shoulder a little harder and speaks up a little louder.

"Mommy, wake up! Mommy, it's just a dream. Just a bad dream. Wake up!" She gives a good push to your shoulder with the last 'wake up' and you sit up quickly, swinging your arms in a punch. You hit Becca, and she stumbles back, loses her balance, and falls, hitting her head against the coffee table.

You start to fully come to. You're looking around the room frantically, breathing heavily, and, slowly, you realize you're in a familiar place. Slowly, you recognize your living room. Slowly, you realize your daughter is bleeding on the floor.

You do a double take. Becca is sat against the coffee table, her bunny abandoned at her side. She's holding her head, but blood is still dripping out from the sides of her small hand, and she's bawling.

"M-m-mommy, I'm s-s-sorry!" She cries.

"Becca! Oh, no, no, no!" You quickly stumble off the couch, sitting on your knees as you hover your hands next to Becca's head, trying to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."

The commotion is loud enough that it wakes Bucky up and he slides into the room, panic staining his face.

"Y/N, what's going on? Are you okay? Is Becca okay?" He says worriedly, rushing over to you and kneeling beside you.

Noticing that you're not actually touching Becca or trying to help, he pushes you out of the way, pulling Becca's hand away from her forehead. He grimaces as he gently swipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. He lets out a relieved breath.

"It's not that bad. It's okay. You're okay, sweetheart," he tells Becca, kissing her forehead.

Bucky turns to see that you've backed yourself into the corner of the room, as far away from him and Becca as you could possibly get. You're holding your head in your hands, crying, and muttering "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," over and over.

"Doll, she's okay. It's just a small cut. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky reassures you, scooping Becca in his arms as he speaks. He was piecing together that you'd hurt her in a post-nightmare haze (he was familiar with them).

You just shake your head frantically.

—

Bucky gets Becca cleaned up and put back to bed. When he returns to the living room, you're still huddled in the corner, but you've stopped crying. Instead, you're staring blankly at the wall. He walks over.

"Doll? Hey." He gently tilts your chin towards him. "Bec's okay. She's not mad—a little rattled—but mostly worried about her mama. You didn't do anything wrong. You know that, right?"

You shake your head and he sighs.

"She's asking for you."

You finally make eye contact.

"No. I don't want to see her; I can't see her. You have to keep Becca away from me, Bucky." Each word that leaves your mouth is deadly serious. Bucky's mouth is slightly agape as he takes in your words.

"Sweetheart, she's okay. You can see her," he tries.

"No, I can't. I'm a danger to her, Bucky. I hurt my baby." Your voice cracks, and the pain in your voice breaks Bucky's heart.

"Promise me you will keep her away from me," you beg.

He nods reluctantly. "Okay."

You nod and turn your gaze back to the wall. It's silent for a few minutes.

You stand abruptly and Bucky quickly mirrors the action.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

"I'm going to kill Frost," you say at the same time.

A beat. Bucky stares at you.

"I'm going to hunt that son of a bitch down, and I am going to make him pay for everything he has done to this family." You make direct eye contact with your husband. "Everything."

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @scatteredstardustt @babysbreathbabes @ordinarylokix @lilstarfish88 @ordelixx @shizukestar @filmsbyblair

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky x reader angst #marvel angst #marvel fanfiction #mcu x reader

154 notes · View notes

venussaidso · 3 months ago

Text

Ketu Kinship p1.

disclaimer: as per usual, all my posts are based entirely on fictional dynamics and themes that perfectly tie into the nakshatras of the characters/actors. when talking about onscreen pairings, i am not promoting anything. don't ask me about compatibility, i'm simply a dedicated consumer of fictional media who just so happens to be obsessed with the meanings and storytelling behind nakshatras. if this resonates, though, i am glad. but when it comes to real life, i'm not intrigued by astrological pairings. this is for fun!

The Chinese drama Love Between Fairy and Devil is so Mula-coded. The way Mula is derived from the Sanskrit word for "root" and the Fairy, played by a Mula Sun native, gets to the tree of emotions of the Devil (who is the epitome of a Ketu power-hungry emotionless tyrant, mind you). She finds this tree, which is representative of his psyche, to be completely damaged and frozen, and she unintentionally heals his roots (which gets to his core issues, and hidden parts of himself). Ketu bringing forth truth and healing, this debilitates him, and she becomes his weakness.

Although, there's a toxic aspect that I just explored of the Ketu-Ketu pairings, especially in het pairings, where the Ketu man fixates on the Ketu woman and he traps her, selfishly taking away her autonomy. Of course, it's romanticized, but this is yet again another Ketu man doing too much because he can't healthily express his feelings (as they begin to surface, all thanks to her Mula abilities) and he overexerts himself, his genuine feelings for her being in conflict with his tyrannical instincts (another power trip for the Ketuvian).

The one astrological influence I found to go perfectly head-to-head with Ketuvians' force is Rahu, and vice versa. I will be getting to that post someday; but Rahuvians can be the least tolerant and more resistant of them. The same way Sun-Saturn pairings function. Being of equal polarity, there can be enough tension and conflict to showcase their refusal to submit to each other's force as opposed to natives of the same rulership.

And also, the Beauty-&-the-Beast element I talked about is there between Fairy and Devil, of course, as I've explored with this specific nodal pairing before. Even in the other details of the drama, such as her friends being plants the same way Belle's friends are kitchen utensils and teacups. Her isolation speaks to her Ketu-rulership, and her getting locked up by the Ketu male she's supposedly meant to fall in love with is literally Beauty-&-the-Beast. Except the Beast here is a murderous god, the actual biggest threat in the universe and whatnot. While Punarvasu's Beast was merely a vain, narcissistic prince, compared to Mula as the Beast who is initially extremely villainous and darker (as explored before in my wolf in disguise post, how nodals are the evil beasts everyone has the right to be wary of). Of course, as you can see how the media has always been obsessed with humanizing & redeeming murderous male characters, the Beauty-&-the-Beast tale is of two Ketuvians here.

Although, not to shit on Ketu-Ketu entirely.

It is interesting that (fictional) Ketu-ruled natives, though seen in a symbiotic dynamic with Jupiter-ruled natives, are magnetized by those of the same rulership, and vice versa; to the point of certain medias showcasing a better understanding of the Ketuvian through other Ketuvians. It is also interesting how fans of these shows even prefer these pairings, sensing way more chemistry and connection than expected, such as;

In the love triangle between Joey Potter, Pacey Witter, and Dawson Leery; Pacey Witter and Joey Potter are the perfect endgame to pretty much majority of the fandom. Initially Joey loves Dawson for his Jupiterian tendencies, but even the viewers grow to realize that Pacey actually sees her for who she is. While Dawson, being so full of himself, remains with a version of Joey in his head that just isn't real (Jupiter's idealization getting in the way of reality). The way Pacey sees Joey goes to Ketu's energy cutting through superficial layers to get to the essence of things. Pacey gets to look into Joey's dreams, aspirations and true self more than Dawson will ever.

With Rory Gilmore, Dean, and Jess; it’s almost the exact same thing. Rory and Dean are initially drawn to each other’s polarity and seem like a fine fit. Then, Jess comes along, and his presence gives us a more real version of Rory. They have that effect on each other where, while they’re so magnetized by one another, they feel so grounded and seen when they’re together. He validates important aspects of herself that we never see Dean do.

Alex Russo and Mason Greybeck. Her first relationship was with Dean (another Punarvasu by the name Dean lol), and some can argue it’s her best. But her relationship with Mason demonstrates a deeper understanding and appreciation of her character compared to her relationship with Dean. Her second relationship was pretty much the most iconic on the show. With Mason, Alex was just seen, he gave her space to thrive even in her recklessness. [Also Mason's unhealthy fixation on Alex showed in episodes post their breakup. Typical.]

With Clara Oswald and the Eleventh Doctor and the Twelfth, this is another clear example that Ketu-Ketu is the best fit in my opinion. Clara had only become an equal beside Twelfth, developing a deeper, more real, connection with him because she is seen and through him her character thrives more. Clara with Eleventh were a stereotypical Ketu-Jupiter pair, mostly centered around him and his Jupiterian abundance with no room for her to grow or be grounded in a meaningful way as Jupiter doesn't challenge Ketu or pierce through Ketu.

Her character beside the Eleventh Doctor was based on his fascination with her, not supporting her growth or complexity as Jupiter has the tendency to idealize. With the Twelfth Doctor, he challenges her in ways that force her to confront her fears, truths and insecurities. This is the Ketuvian piercing through the other Ketuvian, adding even more emotional depth to their connection.

As Ketuvians can be extremely grounding from their ability to see beyond things and destroy illusion, it comes as no surprise that such natives can be validated by one another just based on perception and the ability to brutally tell things as they are alone. For example, in the film, Thoroughbreds, Mula Sun Olivia Cooke plays a character who is marked by her blunt honesty and emotional detachment, contrasting the performative and often illusory behaviour of the characters around her. Being that she is Ketuvian, she is the grounding force that drives the movie, forcing Ashwini Sun Anya Taylor Joy's character to confront the darker, more complex aspects of herself and her insecurities. The Mula native's candidness acts as a mirror for the Ashwini native who hasn't had anyone pierce through her as she did. The unwavering authenticity of the Mula native encourages her to reconsider her own identity.

This way of Ketuvians seeing each other always comes with an unspoken acceptance and understanding of each other. They seem to initially function like Solar people who hate having expectations put on them as it restricts them. Ketu people hate falsities projected onto them, and when they’re with people who limit them as they try to navigate their own identity, or with people who don’t see them and have the Ketuvian center them instead, they become suffocated. It comes as no surprise that when another Ketu person walks into their life, they feel so validated and grounded, as the truth that's always existed within them is forcibly pulled out and mirrored. In general, without my dramatic ass interpretation, Ketu people are just naturally more inclined to the company of each other because there’s a theme of belonging, as headless and directionless as Ketu is.

#mula #ketu #ashwini #aries #sagitarrius #magha #leo #vedic astrology #astrology #sidereal astrology

124 notes · View notes

enemywasp · 9 months ago

Text

Alright so someone on tiktok sent me a link to a compiled list of arguments against proshippers and so I wanted to put a sort of brief response of my own thoughts of each point.

Long post warning!

"Proshippers are non-offending minor attracted people in a fresh paint of coat"

What a start, am I right? Okay so first off this is a huge generalisation, not every proshipper engages with or is even comfortable with anything that sexualises fictional children, or ships them with adults. And of those that do ship adult/minor ships, it doesn't always mean they're attracted to the character themselves or gains any sexual pleasure from that.

They then went on to say that although they might be non-offending, they still fantasise about and romanticise children- in the case of proshippers by creating art and stories. And I am not personally educated enough on how people's minds works to go in depth here, but I do know a lot of pedophilic thoughts can be intrusive and unwanted. And I would much rather people engage in this and deal with their thoughts through fiction where no actual children are harmed, than actually go touch a real child or engage is any form of CSEM.

“People can draw and ship whatever they want!”

Here they went on to say that surely to ship and create content you must justify these things in some capacity regardless of them being fictional. And immediately I'd argue, the justification it that they're fictional. And that sometimes you want to read about things you'd never approve of in real life, it's a natural curiosity. And again, regardless of what the dark content is I would take someone engaging in fiction over harming a real person any day.

They compared this to alt-right groups and dark humour justifying racism and transphobia, etc. And whilst I think something we should always be aware of in fiction is stereotypes and how we may be representing people. Youtube videos like this are usually a type of propaganda that AIM to change people's mindsets and turn them against groups. Whereas fiction tells a story, some may have meanings and connections to real life, be a political piece, etc. Not everything is that serious and has a clear distinction from reality.

Think for example, reading/watching about murder and gore. More on that in a second.

"Fiction doesn't affect reality!"

I'm going to be honest I rolled my eyes at this as their main example was slenderman. If you don't know about that, those girls were schizophrenic. Anything could of set off and caused delusions, it just so happened to be fiction. Those girls needed help- not to just read purer content. They also basically brought up propaganda again, which is again deliberate and designed to warp peoples perceptions. Its based of lying and spreading misinformation and passing it as facts. The only thing I strongly believe can be directly harmful is stereotypes if not handled with care. But I think that's something for anyone who writes and consumes content should be aware of regardless of their stances.

Again here they implied that all proshippers are peodophiles. And that they normalise abuse of children. I'd also like to point out that most proshippers I've interacted with online have age boundaries to avoid interacting with minors depending on how graphic or sexual their content is.

"What do you think all stories about murder should stop existing?"

Here they basically argued that killing in media isn't the same as its not romanticised or condoned. YA Novels disagree- mafia stories being the most immediate example to spring to mind. Furthermore, morally grey villains. One of my favourite films is Mr Right. It's about a hitman killing people. Anna kendrick falls in love with him and its framed as a romantic comedy. Funny how its only fanfiction that's criticised like this? I actually have more thoughts on this if anyones interested.

Again they bring up kids not knowing adults pursuing children is wrong, and I'm questioning why children this young are unsupervised on the Internet. How young were you when you were allowed to watch anything with graphic blood or violence? This content isn't made for kids! Especially not anyone so young they can't seperate fiction from reality as most sites have a specific age you have to be to join. And I'm sorry to say it, but on websites and social media where adults can interact with kids, anything can be used to groom kids. (The real thing you should be mad about here is how there's no websites aimed just for children and safe spaces on the Internet anymore cause it can't be monetised as easily)

"Artists are allowed to draw and write about dark people"

They basically said, yes but it's not the same as promoting. Writing something under a romantic light and not saying "Don't do at home!" Isn't promoting. No ones encouraging these things in real life. Or rather, if they are its not because they're a proshipper but rather who they are as a person and their intentions.

The trans example they used is very extreme and honestly something I agree with a little more, fiction can definitely be used as an excuse to say and act out hateful and discriminatory things. Whilst I do think it's something we should discuss and unpack more, I'm not certain of my view on how I would fix this without risking silencing people talking about their experiences.

"Its not my responsibility to look after other people, just block me and the tags"

Here they threw all kinds of accusations. And says that we're making traumatised people jump through hoops to avoid getting retraumatised. I hate this argument, you know people have actual triggers they may not be able to avoid in real life? The world can't bend around you. And I am very sorry if any content online is traumatising to you, but someone could also be traumatised by a certain breed of dog and not want to see it. Should no one post dogs online ever again? A bald man reminds you of an abusive ex? Bald men get off the Internet! You see how this thing can just keep escalating? The tags and warnings are important because they're the best you can get. You can't control the world to protect everyone from everything ever. No ones forcing you to interact, and if you're on any algorithm based content that will encourage that content on your for your page more.

The only thing I think we should take from this is the reminder that warnings and tags are always important.

"You only care about censoring creativity"

Here they defend themselves that oh wouldn't you want freaks out the community! Which again immediately makes me lose respect for you, if you're just going to brand us all as freaks as an argument and generalize us.

No comment on that first line when you can easily argue antishipper do the same.

"Proshippers are not remotely innocent of targeted harrasement" Neither are antis. There's people who take things too far both sides and I'm not going to defend either for that.

"Real kids get assaulted and all you care about is censoring people online!"

Here they shout "oh I can care about both!" But what I don't think they realise is censorship can make it difficult for kids and to learn about how to speak up and to look for signs, or to speak up about their experiences. How do you plan on removing the topic from the Internet whilst also letting victims speak up? And people may want to write fiction based off their experiences. Who are you to go through it and proclaim what is too far, what romanticises it too much? More on this later.

"Antis are reducing my trauma"

They compared this to saying "date rape victims are reducing my trauma because they weren't taken advantage of in the same way as me" which is a disgusting parallel?? Date rape is still rape. Someone writing about something isn't the same as it happening. Although it can be used as harrasment, grooming, etc if directly addressed to you or being constantly sent to you, written about you. But the content existing in general? No.

"I'm coping"

Compared it to self harm, and such. Poetry and diaries are also used to write about your experiences and unpack trauma. Some of which may write it in an unrealistically positive light cause that's how they want to unpack it or explain those thoughts. And yes these things get posted online.

I can't imagine a single therapist or professional psychiatrist of any kind disapproving of creative writing because, again, it's much better than any alternatives of doing real harm to yourself or people around you. Although I do agree that if something is traumatising for you to read about and just upsets you further, be aware of your own boundaries but not everyone is the same so how are you going to police people's own thoughts and emotions.

Also I can't remember who or where as it was years ago now, but I have heard of people who actually realised they were being groomed or abused and just how bad it was through reading about it in a fanfic and seeing it in an outside perspective.

They also say to do it in private, but doesn't everyone on the Internet now have an understanding of finding a community and looking out for eachother and sharing experiences?

"There's more nuance here than just calling proshippers peodophiles"

Here they say no matter what it still comes down to whether it's ever okay to sexualise minors in certain contexts. And again, not every proshipper does this or is even comfortable with engaging in this kind of content. And further, no one is sexualising real minors in this context.

"I'm a proshipper and a minor tho!"

I'd agree minors should be wary of the spaces they're in but proship spaces aren't always necessarily sexual, graphic or 18+. Saying they're being groomed feels like you're watering down that term. I was a proshipper at age 13, I didn't interact with anyone online about it though, I didn't even know that was the term. I just came to the conclusion that it's just fiction all on my own. Minors aren't idiots.

At then end they talk about their own experience being groomed and I'm obviously not going to nitpick or criticise their experiences. I will point out that one person being bad and taking advantage of you and using content to do so doesn't mean everyone is like that. I am sorry to anyone who has been taken advantage of by someone who claims they're a proshipper though. There are people who have turned out to be horrible on both sides.

I am ill and it's late but I want to get this up sooner rather than later so please ask for clarification on anything. I'm always up for a discussion on this topic as I do believe some of these points do have merits at times and that this whole topic is not black and white

#proshipper #profiction #proship #anti anti #proship positivity #ship discourse #ship discussion #tw grooming #tw harrassment #tw trauma #anti censorship #anti harassment

199 notes · View notes

naomikozura · 6 months ago

Text

Love of My Life: Part 3

Heian Era! True Form! Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: I want to put an actual paragraph warning in here. Remember this is Sukuna’s story during the Heian Era, using bits and pieces from what I've researched on JJK and him during this era.

This chapter shows INTENSE GRUESOME SCENES including torture, psychological torture, abuse, massacres, etc!!!! This is a DARK THEME story, it is meant as a work of FICTION and its 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!!

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, emotional turmoil and abuse, sadistic tendencies, corruption of power, dark themes, burning down villages, murder, masochistic tendencies, forced drowning, mutilated bodies, sadistic behavior, bodily harm, mentions of blood, sex scenes. smut (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 14K

Series Masterlist

Part 2 || Final

Your mothers shrill of horror ripped through the halls of your home, your fathers curses and refusal filled as the sobs continued to fill the room. You felt everything echo around you as you soaked in the gravity of his words. You stared at him with wide eyes. Of all the things that you expected of him, you’d never expected him to ask you to marry him.

“You’re insane!”, you heard your father exclaim.

“Please! Please no! Not my Y/n! She’s the only daughter I have please!”, your mothers begs fell on deaf ears.

“Call off her betrothal to Zetsubou Zen’in and announce to the realm that she is to be wed to me.”, his declaration hung heavily in the air, the word echoing through the opulent hallways of your home.

Was this his declaration of love for you?

“She’ll marry me in front of the entire realm along with the remainder of the Three Families to bear witness to our union.

The silence that fell over your home left you anxious, not because he wanted you to marry him, but because you didn’t know if your father would outburst and it would result in his death. You felt the words leave your mouth before that could even happen.

“I’ll do it”, you whispered. Watching as your mother threw herself at Sukuna’s feet. You felt embarrassed by her actions yet you understood her shock. You could sense her desperation as it swirled around her like a hovering cloud of doom.

“Get out of our home!”, your father’s voice boomed out, full of fury and disbelief. He was testing his luck, pushing the boundaries of decorum and safety. Even you could sense that his anger might set Sukuna off to tip the balance dangerously close to violence.

“I’ll do it!”, you raised your voice, the entire room looking back at you. Your mothers frantic eyes meeting yours and your father staring at you in disbelief. “I’ll marry you.”

You watched as your mother stared at you in a heartbreaking shock, her sob ripping through the room once again. Your father looked like he would pass out from the shock mixed with his anger. His face drained of color, his eyes looking between you and Sukuna with disbelief and disgust.

Sukuna’s expression remained inscrutable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—satisfaction, perhaps, or a darker emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/n, no! You don’t have to do this! There has to be another way, F/n!”, your mother’s shrills almost pushed you over the edge. You hated how little composure she had, but you couldn’t blame her lack of backbone, she was everything you never wanted to become. She had been in the same position as you, born into a family with nothing but impossible expectations and forced her to marry your father out of greed and political gain. Unlike you, she accepted her fate and allowed herself to fall victim to her family’s abuse. She was quiet, agreeable, and pathetic. You loved her, but a part of you hated how weak she was. She was much more put together when you were a child, now it seemed like she was just scraping by.

“I suggest you quiet that woman of yours before I blow her head off”, your eyes snapped towards him, the disbelief in his words making your eyes fill with anger. He smirked, he didn’t realize how much he liked to see you riled up until witnessing this just now.

Your father shouted at your mother to stand, her shaky legs barely holding her up as she tried to keep her composure.

“Now, I suggest you get to work, L/n. You have a lot of work to do before our ceremony”, Sukuna smirked, walking over to you and placing a gentle hand on your cheek. Your eyes glossed over in a silent gratitude that only he could place. His thumb caressed your cheek softly, his body relaxed while his eyes soaked in yours. The way he looked at you now was different—a mix of arrogance and something softer, an unspoken understanding that only you could decipher.

“I look forward to forever with you, my bride.”, he said in an ominous tone, but you knew he was putting up a show. There was a gentleness that laced his tone that only you could hear, all while your father stared in silent anger. His hand dropped as he turned to leave, the room still heavy with his presence as he disappeared out of the house.

You watched your mother drop to her knees once again, her sobs filling the room with her head in her hands, the maids rushed to her side, their attempts to console her lost in the torrent of her grief. You let out a breath, calming yourself from the tension but smiled to yourself.

He was helping you break free.

You stayed still as you heard your father’s curses, his energy spiraling out of control as he turned towards you.

“How dare you?!”, he yelled with a fury of a hundred jujustu sorcerers. “Did you seduce that son of a bitch? Why is he in our home!”

You stood in silence, shock overcoming you as your energy swirled into anger.

“That day you got injured, you lured him in didn’t you? Now he wants you as his bride, do you have any idea what you’ve just done! You’ve damned us all!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to grasp the situation.

“Y/n, please!”, your mother’s cries ripped through as you looked over at her, the maid still holding onto her in comfort. “Say you won’t marry him, please say you won’t accept his proposal”, the tears that streamed down her face were filled with fear, weakness, and uncertainty.

“I..”, you watched as she stumbled over to you, falling into your arms as she gripped your kimono tightly.

“Please! You’re my only daughter, you can’t let him take you away from us. H-he’ll kill you, he’ll force you to bear him sons, heirs for his kingdom and then he’ll kill you!” she choked as she sobbed hysterically.

The shock that flooded your veins burned like fire, but the pain in your heart left by your father burned even more. If you refused him, you’d become a slave to your father, to Zetsubou, to the Zen’ins, and if you went with him then… he’d be helping you leave all of this behind forever.

“I can’t let our family burn into nothing.”, you whispered before turning to your father. “You were the one who said I need to fulfil my duty and marry a strong sorcerer, to pass down my technique for the better of our family. Is Sukuna not the strongest this realm has to offer? Is he not the opening we need to gain a greater claim?”

“You’re insolent and full of naivety if you believe he’s the one to give us our claim. Our claim is to be gained through the Zen’ins not through some blood thirsty, power hungry monster.”, your father bit out through clenched teeth, his hands fisting with anger.

“Do you truly want to deny the King of Curses? Knowing he could kill us all and erase us completely from this world?”, you tried to reason, feeling a tug of energy inside of you, your eyes widening slightly.

Sukuna was waiting outside.

You believed it for you, but with the recent events you knew he was making sure you were okay.

“So how do I explain this to the Zen’ins? To the realm!”

“Swallow your pride and stand in solidarity. If they fear Sukuna, they’ll fear you for giving me as his bride. You will have great power having his as the next head of our house and his own claim. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?! Power?!”, you raised your voice, your lip shaking slightly. “You could have it all, why do you care so much about what the realm thinks when our family has one of the most powerful techniques, you should hold yourself to a far higher regard than you do. That’s why they see us as weak.”

Your father stared in deadly silence, your words lingering in the air as his vision turned red and the room stood still. You watched him as the seconds ticked by, seeing his face contort from anger, to relaxed, to contemplation.

You furrowed your brows, feeling Sukuna’s energy lessen as it remained neutral.

Was your father starting to understand? Could he see the power Sukuna was giving him in order for you to gain your freedom or was he simply being foolish by denying himself and your family of being attached to Sukuna’s name?

“Clean up this mess.”, your father spit at the maids, turning and whispering to another to go fetch his counsel. The maid nodded before he retreated into the house and disappeared.

Your mother still clung to you pathetically as you stared at the empty space where your father stood, feeling Sukuna’s energy disappear entirely as you helped your mother to her feet. He was gone.

You helped the maids get your mother to bed, helping calm her down before she took a nighttime tea to help her sleep. Once she was finally settled and asleep, you took a deep breath and looked around the now eerily quiet room. Sukuna’s presence had vanished entirely, leaving you with a deep sense of anxiety about what would come next.

As you stared at the empty space where your father had stood, you couldn’t help but feel a gnawing unease about your father’s next move. What would he do in these circumstances? How would he react to the sudden shift in power dynamics and your impending marriage to Sukuna?

With a final, resolute glance around the room, you steeled yourself for the uncertain path ahead. The choices you made now would shape not only your own future but the fate of your family as well.

The silence consumed the air, holding everyone present in a deathly chokehold as you stood before the entirety of the realm along with the Four Families and their clans. You stood tall, eyes empty as you heard your father’s words echoing into the night just two days after Sukuna had shown up to your home and asked for your hand in marriage. He had called his counsel and navigated the situation with them for an entire day, calling his grand meeting in the sacred place of meetings so the entirety of the realm could come, many traveling overnight to make time for the meeting. Your father had called the meeting almost too short on time, perhaps trying to meet the demands of the King of Curses, but as he stood at the head of the field on the stone slightly raised above the rest of the ground, and projected his voice through the woods, the silence sounded deadly.

You looked out at the people’s faces. There were men who looked outraged, angry, and in disbelief while the women had faces contorted in horror, disgust, and despair. You watched as some of the villagers covered their mouths to hold back the screams of shock rising through their throats, others with tears streaming down their faces as they held onto one another to keep from collapsing onto the ground.

Then, in one moment, the silence broke into an onslaught of screaming and yelling, different accusations, denials, and hatred being spilled from the people in the field.

“No!”, one woman rang out, a Gojo Family seal on her clothes as she fell to her knees and started praying. “Don’t take her from us! She’s Innocent!”

“You’re a coward, L/n!” a man from the Kamo Family screamed, his eyes filled with a fury as the men around him started to yell with him. “You let that monster take your daughter?!”

“He’ll torture her!”

“She’ll give birth to devils!”

“He’s brainwashed her!”

“The King of Curses is stealing the princess of peace, he’s going to steal her ability!”

“She’ll be wed to a monster!”

The prayers for your salvation rang low as the screams of the villagers filled the air, the cries of women making you feel like you were being forced into this. They didn’t know you’d accepted Sukuna’s proposal, but that wouldn’t be something they needed to know. You looked over at your father, watching as he remained as cool and collected as possible but deep down you knew he was feeling embarrassed, like a failure. This was not the reaction he expected from the realm. You followed his eyes line, watching as it fell down below where the Three families sat, specifically, the Zen’in leader with a wrath inside of him that could destroy a village.

You stood in front of all of them, no regret in your heart as you wore a red ceremonial gown and looked into the depths of the vacant air, feeling his energy all the way from the other side of the forest. You didn’t care how many of them cursed his name, or how many begged for forgiveness and salvation, you wanted him and nothing more than to be at his side. Some claimed he manipulated you, was forcing you into a marriage for his own gain, but they didn’t know him like you did. They would never know him in the way you did.

Everything under the sun was being thrown out at both you and your family, your father standing proud but his eyes full of shame. Your mother’s eyes red from the crying, her muffled sobs and tears streaming down her face as she stood behind your father. You didn’t want to invalidate their worries, but deep down you knew you’d be okay with Ryomen. You held no regret in your choice to marry him, you only hoped your family would be safe from ruin.

You had tuned out all of the voices around you, letting yourself feel Sukuna’s energy from the miles away on the other side of the woods. Although he was far off, you felt him like he was standing right next to you, his energy wrapped around you like a protective blanket.

I’ll be here.

The vibration traveled through your body, understanding the silent meaning behind his aura. You watched as your father’s counsel started to speak out, dismissing the meeting and sending the information of the wedding and calling for their attendance or to face the consequences of the King of Curses. Who were they to refuse the demands of the Ryomen Sukuna?

You followed behind your father, watching as the Zen’in leader and his counsel followed back to your family’s home. The silence felt deadly once again, the spinning of energy felt overwhelming, almost too strong and unstable. The silence wouldn’t last long as the Zen’in leader finally spoke.

“You think… you can break off our contract so easily, L/n?”, his voice was laced with venom, the poison dripping from his lips. “You owe us!”

“Do you truly believe I had a say in this? It was the monster who forced my hand!”, your father spit back in equal malice.

“You are foolish if you think you will gain anything from this! She will be nothing more than his whore!”, the Zen’in leader boomed. “At least with our name she would be worth something! You break the contract we made L/n! You promised my son a wife, not a concubine who is running off with that disgusting damn thing!”

You flinched at his words, your gut churning as you held your composure in front of the Zen’in leader. You stared blankly at the wall as they continued to fight, holding your tears back at the intent in his words.

“What do you expect me to do? Tell the son of a bitch no? He would have killed us all, then your son would have been without a wife anyway!”

“You said she would give my son all the heirs he needed, she would give up her claim and pass down her technique with the Zen’in clan's Ten Shadows Technique! You have debts to pay, L/n. Either find a way to pay them to us or we will find a way to take it by force. Even if it means she still births a Zen’in heir.”

You felt yourself wanting to vomit. How much was your father hiding from your village, from your mother, from you? He signed a binding contract, he signed away your right to your autonomy, he sold you to produce heirs for the Zen’ins. Not even to carry your own familial name forward, but to benefit a different family.

Just then, the door slammed open, your eyes flickering to the door as you watched Zetsubou walk into the room. “You!”, his voice lowered an octave, deeping as he tried to launch at your father. “You are an ignorant coward! You’re letting that monster take my bride!”

“Zetsubou, enough.”, his father forced. Zetsubou’s dark eyes were filled with anger, his body overwhelmed with negative energy.

Zetsubou then turned towards you, his eyes might’ve been a dark hue, but right then you swore you saw them turn into a bloodied red. He walked towards you, his hand reaching out, halting completely before touching you.

The entire room's energy shifted dramatically, the ice cold sensation flooded everyone’s veins as they felt time stand so still that you could hear a pin drop.

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”, his eyes widened at the sound of Sukuna’s deathly calm voice in his ear, his body towering over Zetsubou as he stayed frozen in place, too frightened to move even the slightest inch.

Zetsubou’s father, your father, and the maids all stood still in shock and fear. Your glance watching as Sukuna’s face was barely a breath away from Zetsubou’s, his forehead basically on his skin as his eyes bore into his soul. You could see the panic in Zetsubou’s eyes, the sweat dripping on his forehead.

Almost like it was planned, a burst of red exploded from Zetsubou’s body, his father staring in wide-eyed shock as he watched his son’s hand get completely blown off by the King of Curses. Zetsubou’s agonizing cry filled the room as one of the maids left the room in a panic, her body exploding into nothing, Sukuna’s annoyance being taken out on the bodies in this room.

Everybody except yours.

“Now.”, his deep voice echoed in the silence of the room. “What’s this about… birthing another man’s heir?”

The silence was deafening, none of the men in the room dared to speak as Zetsubou’s muffled grunts of pain came from his place on the floor, the remaining maids holding back tears after seeing their friend get killed. Though you disregarded her, she was the one who’d filled your head about Sukuna and his concubines. Now you had no doubt what your position was in his claim.

“Huh, now no one wants to speak.”, he narrowed his eyes. “You sure had a lot to say a few seconds ago. Where did your confidence go, Zen’in?”

A wicked smile came across his face, laughing as he met the older Zen’in’s eyes. “Let’s hear you say it again, I didn’t catch that the first time.”

Even in all his power, all his glory, the Zen’in leader was rendered speechless. Sukuna’s hand started to twitch, your body sending a signal of halt to him.

Ryomen.

He stopped, his body standing upright and backing away. “Hm. Pitiful.” he muttered as he looked at Zetsubou on the ground being tended to by one of the maids. His eyes met yours in understanding, your heart clenching at the sight of him.

He gave you a final look before turning to your father.

“Don’t leave me waiting.”

The days leading up to your wedding passed quickly, your days being filled with arrangements and rush measurements for your wedding gown while your nights were spent yearning for Sukuna. You hadn’t seen him since that day your father made his announcement to the realm. You couldn’t feel his energy in proximity, wondering if he’d gone back to his territory until the wedding. You stared out at the dark sky, the moon at its fullest as it shone on the homes around you. There was a full moon tonight, which means it would be the same tomorrow, though the moon was a light shade of red.

A Blood moon.

It looked beautiful.

You turned in your bed, letting yourself sleep before the next morning. You were marrying him tomorrow. You would gain the freedom you always wanted, something Sukuna could only give you.

The wedding was extravagant, beautiful, and serene. It would make any bride jealous had it been a regular union, but in this case everyone saw the beautiful and extravagant wedding as a farewell to your life as a L/n. A beautiful send off for a beautiful bride.

Unconventionally beautiful, the ceremony defied tradition in every way. Sukuna, in his massive, imposing form, wore a ceremonial kimono that hugged his figure perfectly, making him look devastating to you, but like a monster to everyone else. While you were expected to wear a white, pure kimono, he wore a dark black one. Almost like it was showcasing the contrast in your relationship, the existence of your dichotomy. The vast array of witnesses, gathered in anticipation, awaited your arrival with bated breath.

The energy in the room was a palpable mix of awe and trepidation, amplified by the delicate strains of music that filled the air. The melody signaled your entrance, an orchestral blend that was both serene and haunting. Everyone turned, watching as you walked into the open field, the crowd’s collective gaze fixed upon you, their eyes wide with a mix of admiration and curiosity. The field was adorned with vibrant flowers and elegant decorations, setting a scene that was both idyllic and surreal.

Your body dressed in a white kimono to symbolize your family name and your purity, a red and gold headpiece beautifully placed on your head. The white symbolizing the L/n family name, flowed gracefully as you moved. The intricate red and gold headpiece atop your head was a masterpiece in itself, reflecting the sunlight and casting a soft, ethereal glow around you. Your face had minimal powders on it, showing off your natural beauty as you approached what would be the altar.

Sukuna stood waiting, his gaze unwavering as he watched you approach. His demeanor, while still intimidating, was tempered with a sense of admiration, something only you could sense from his being as it radiated off of him in gentle waves. The deep hum that emanated from him was a subtle acknowledgment of your beauty and the gravity of the moment. His eyes, a fierce crimson, softened as they met yours. In that fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of something— a hint of something deeper. It was a rare glimpse of emotion from the King of Curses, a testament to the significance of what was unfolding.

You were beautiful, regal, elegant, and all of you belonged to him.

You rose your head, your e/c eyes meeting his deep red ones. You could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes, your own brightening at the sight of him. He looked devastating, looked like someone that you knew only you would fall so deeply for. You soaked in his appearance, and although you hated it, he went for a natural appearance opposed to his true form. You knew it was because it would help make the matrimony look less monstrous and help the realm not feel sorry for your decision in marrying him. You’d never feel sorry though.

You wanted this more than anything.

It meant freedom, it meant living with him at your side, it meant getting to experience everything you never would have had you married anyone else.

He cherished you more than anyone knew, he held you in his hand like a delicacy while everyone else assumed that you were forced into this marriage. You felt your heart swell at the thought that you would soon gain the power your father had always wanted but could never achieve. In your own way, it was to spite him. To spite the L/n name and to have control over the realm as you took your place next to Sukuna.

You didn’t see this marriage as a way to gain power, you saw it as the pathway to freedom, away from being forced to develop your energy and technique, a way to leave behind your father’s insistent training of making a domain. You believed you were gifted but you didn’t believe being abused for his own gain was worth the trade off to be a part of the Four Families. You would rather sit as naive as a normal human than be forced into a life of obligation, of reputation, and living up to the ancestral name. With Sukuna, you had it all in the palm of your hand without even trying.

Murmurs of disapproval filled the air, ceasing quickly when Sukuna’s dark glare met the audience. His eyes held a certain level of power that it left everyone cowering in their seats. The entire realm was present and no matter how much they wanted to flee from the presence of the King of Curses, the fear of him killing them was far greater than their discomfort.

The keeper slowly read off from the pages in his trembling hands, Ryomen’s eyes focused on you as he soaked in your beauty. It was no secret to the jujutsu world that you were beautiful, coveted by many yet only belonging to one. To him. It filled him with pride. You were beautiful, intelligent, talented, strong, and in the midst of everything you had a gentle, kind heart that seemed to show grace more than necessary.

When you smiled up at him, he felt content. He ignored the soft gasps from the crowd, he didn’t give a damn about the measly sorcerers who thought they were better than every other being. He could easily exterminate every last one of them, they were foolish to openly disapprove of your union considering how easy it would be for him to decimate each of them.

You looked up at him with glossy eyes, your skin flawlessly covered in light powder to highlight your features. His attention drew to your lips as you said a soft and confident ‘I do’ after he did. His hands reach for yours as a soft smile spreads across your lips, your body moving forward and soaking in his warmth.

The two of you met in a life bonding kiss, sharing a moment of contentment and love as Ryomen held your body close to his, your e/c eyes meeting his as you smiled against him. He was soft, gentle with you when he’d been brutal, intense, overwhelmingly powerful with everyone else. You were the weakness he hadn’t ever wanted but gained anyway.

You felt your souls intertwine, your energy becoming one with his as you felt his heart beat in time with your own. Your body felt on fire, your heart felt whole, you felt like his.

The entire realm stood shakily, applauding the marriage but the joy and celebration would never reach their hearts as they saw this marriage as one that was doomed from the start. They would never accept this marriage as official but who were they to dictate the validity of your marriage when you were so deep in him that it didn’t matter.

His energy intertwined with yours, the mix of power and emotion tangled into one form, one being that held the intensity of your feelings for each other. A bond of neverending admiration and what you would consider love. He didn’t need to say the words out loud for you to know what he felt for you was deep in the marrow in his bones, his actions showing you just how much he was willing to give just to make you happy.

Late that night, after returning to his home, the both of you stayed wrapped up in one another, Sukuna touching you gently as he laid you in his silk sheets and prepared your body. He touched and kissed you everywhere, leaving small marks on your skin as he gently removed your clothes. He knew you were still a virgin, your body hadn’t been touched by another man and it gave him a sense of pride knowing he’d be the first and only. You were sensitive to everything, your exterior might’ve been well composed but he unraveled you in every way he knew how to.

The two of you consummate your marriage, your body under his as he moved against you, his lips whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he treated your body gently. He moved against you gently but the rawness in his voice as he groaned showed his desire to move faster, rougher, he wanted to mark you and ensure everyone in the realm knew who you belong to. Your moans were like heaven to him as he fucked you into oblivion, moving slow and thoroughly to ensure your body felt every inch of his desire for you.

His body hovered over yours, his arms flexing as he drove himself deeper into you, trying to feel every inch of you as he moaned in your ear and you in his. Your cries fueled him, led him to thrust into you even more as your nails dug into his arm in pleasure. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so helpless under your touch, but he wanted to feel that way with you, all the time. Your fragile form pressed against his, your toes curling as the pass of his teeth on your neck leaving small love bites as you moaned. One of his hands wrapped itself in your delicate hair, letting him breathe you in as you drove him to the edge. Your body was made for him, every part of you belonged and fit into his body perfectly. Your mouth met him in a delicate, yet sloppy kiss, groaning against him as he continued to snap his hips into you.

When you pulled away, you pushed him off of you slightly, his body moving back and showcasing his abs on full display as you moved him out of you and onto his back. Sukuna watched as you lay kisses on his chest, moving your body on top of his as he watched you lower yourself onto him, his groans ringing out through the halls of his bedroom. Your body moved in delicate circles, his hands gripping your hips as he helped you set a rhythm. You cried as you felt every inch of him inside of you, your breasts moving gently as you rocked your hips against his. You drove him absolutely insane. You were going to unravel him and he wanted you to feel every bit of his seed inside of you. Your form just looked… perfect on his. You truly were made for him.

He sat up, wrapping two of his arms around you while another tangled in your hair and kissed you roughly, the other holding onto the frame of the bed as he drove his hips up into you, your mouth forcing your moans down his throat. He bit your lip, pulling you into a deeper embrace as his hold on your hips grew tighter, his kisses sloppier, and his hips snapped sharper. He was close, but he wanted you to unravel with him. He could tell you were close with the way your body trembled, your nails digging into his arm as he continued to fuck you deep.

It wasn’t until your cries slipped into his mouth and your grip on him got tighter that he continued to drive into you, his hips rolling as yours kept in sync with his. He knew you had just reached your climax and he was close to his. He bit your neck, his hand on the back of your neck and pulled your head to the side gently as he sucked on the skin and bit down. No doubt leaving a dark mark claiming you as his.

His hips snapped in a final move, his seed filling you as you shook against his body, his hips still moving as he pushed every last bit inside of you. Your moans and ragged breath mixed with the hot air in the room, the sweat sticking to both of your bodies as you lay limp against him. Sukuna was still inside of you, breeding you almost as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

After a few minutes, he lifted you from him, laying you onto the sheets as he reached for the bucket of water and a towel to clean your body. He wiped every sensitive part carefully, playing gentle kisses on every inch of your body as he went. He took in the dark, purple bruises that were starting to form on your neck and the marks of his grasp on your hips, waist, thighs, and neck starting to form. Perhaps he’d been too rough. He needed to be careful with you.

Regardless of how much you allowed him to completely mark and claim every piece of you, you were still fragile and weaker than he was. He couldn’t let himself get out of hand when it came to fucking you.

The both of you laid wrapped in his sheets, his energy casting a veil over his home to keep your energy focused in the four walls of the bedroom. The less outsiders could sense your energy, the better. It wasn’t uncommon for the sorcerers in the nearby territories to come after him, in fact he expected it almost on a daily occurrence. Today would not be one of those days. He refused to let anyone get close to the both of you in such vulnerable states.

You were his now and he was yours.

Heart, body, soul. And energy.

There was nothing in this realm that could keep him from you, nothing that could strip you away from him.

While you stayed by his side, he ensured no other living being could even come close enough to you to even consider harming you without facing the consequences of his wrath. That was far worse than any revenge or hit other sorcerers could ever think of carrying out.

You’d spent the better part of your marriage training, getting stronger in order to continue your growth as a jujutsu sorcerer. You kept your strength, but lost all interest in creating a domain. You wanted to be strong in your ability but because you wanted to, not because you were being forced into it like you once were by your father.

Your time spent with Sukuna wasn’t gray either.

You’d spend some days wandering in the woods, taking in the creatures and the natural ambiance of the woods, letting yourself become one with the energy and living beings around you as you walked through the trees and let your feet brush on the grass. He enjoyed those mornings walking through the path that led to a lake in the middle of the forest, one that would result in you soaking your feet just to bask in the fresh, cool sensation of the water. Most times the both of you would get in and swim around together, something your mother would’ve called inappropriate for an heir of an honorable family. It was your favorite thing to do, and Sukuna would bask in the water with you, both of you wrapped in one another regardless of how exposed you were. You knew he’d always protect you from everything and everyone who’d want to hurt you.

You trusted him with the entirety of your being and soul. He was the strongest sorcerer in this realm and could kill a hundred sorcerers at once if he truly wanted. There was nothing that could get past him or over power him that would result in you getting hurt. That much was true.

Over the weeks, you’d grown accustomed to his visits to other territories, leaving your shared home under a protective veil so you wouldn’t be exposed to potential threats, hiding your presence from the realm entirely while he was away.

He’d often come back from his own endeavors, wrapping himself in you and breathing you in as he went from the heartless, masochistic killer to protective, possessive husband. You knew he was unhinged, sadistic, and had a sense of little to no morality but you saw a deeper side to him. He’d be selfless only with you, careful and protective, soft and held you like you were porcelain. In this world, they couldn’t change your feelings towards him.

For you he’d burn the world down, he’d make you the queen of his underground ruling and burn the world to a crisp for you. You wanted him to kill someone, done. You wanted him to help you seek revenge, consider it finished. You wanted him to toy with your enemies and make them fight to the death, anything for you. In hidden ways, your sense of morality slowly shifted, your hatred for weaker sorcerers with no will power or care for their ability to possess cursed energy had grown. how could something as special as being able to use cursed energy be wasted on such weak individuals? You were kind, gentle, and empathetic, but you were also intelligent and philosophical. Cursed energy should be used for something, and have meaning behind it. Yet these people saw it as a curse, something to let go to waste. it angered you to no end.

So when you asked for a favor, he happily obliged.

He’d disappeared for the whole day, his journey to a village in the outskirts of the Kamo territory lasting deep into the evening as scout reports recounted the burning of an entire village in the south. The entire village was filled with weak, boring sorcerers. They had sent men to your family for your courting, something you remember vividly as you overheard the men drinking at a nearby town when you were passing through with your guards, hearing the crude and brutal things they wanted to do to you. The detailed words and scenarios they had laid out for one another left you feeling disgusting, like they only saw you as some fuck toy they could use to gain power and claim to the realm. They were weak, pathetic, and lazy yet they believed themselves to be worthy of your time and hand in marriage.

Killing just three of them wasn’t enough for you.

You wanted the entire village gone and so he did just that for you. He saved the three men last, letting them soak in the horror of what was happening around them as Sukuna overwhelmed them into submission, later forcing them to walk into the lake on just the outside of the village. One of them refused and caused Sukuna to grow annoyed, using his energy to force his body to submerge under the water and force him under until his lungs burned with water and he drowned. The other two men stared in horror as Sukuna glared with his red eyes, his presence burning red and dark as they walked into the water, the cursed energy forcing them under as Sukuna watched their bodies thrash under the weight of his energy. He’d torture them to hell for ever thinking they deserved you, for treating you like a common whore.

You were a rarity, something to be cherished.

He wouldn’t let bastards like them ever talk about or treat you in such a way.

He watched as their bodies stopped moving, holding them under for another few minutes before releasing his energy, looking up at the sky to notice the setting of the sun as he returned to you. He wanted nothing more than to be with his wife. Your presence brought a calm over him as he walked through the woods, your home coming into view after almost an hour of his journey.

You stood in the kitchen, he watched as you talked with one of his followers, Uraume, as she left a bag full of tea for after dinner. You thanked her softly before turning to look at Sukuna who quickly dismissed the white haired sorcerer. She left after bowing to both you and Sukuna, leaving only the two of you in your home.

“Kuna, we were talking”, you whispered as he walked over to you, his body slowly morphing into his true form just for you, just the way you always wanted it to be. Two of his arms wrapped around you, the other two grabbing your face as he leaned down and captured your lips in a warm kiss. Your body melted into his, his warmth radiating off of him as he gripped your waist a little tighter. He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours as his deep voice broke the silence.

“I don’t care.”, he muttered. “My time with you is valuable. I expect them to treat it as such.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him before he grabbed you from behind, his lips kissing the curve of your neck. Your skin felt like it was on fire. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, causing you to let out a soft moan under his touch. Fuck, it drove him crazy. He’d want to hear the sound of your moans and mewls forever.

“Ryo..”, you forced out, trying to form a coherent sentence. “W-what are you doing?”

His breath was warm on your neck. “I took care of our little pest problem.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes snapping to meet him in a wide eyed stare. “You mean you..”

“Yes.”, he said in a short tone.

You smiled at him with warm eyes, your gratitude shining through as you met your lips with his, kissing him in a deep kiss. Your eyes opened to meet his dark red ones, your body reacting to him in such a way that left you wondering if you even had any control over your own body any more. He truly did do what he could to keep you happy, maybe it made you a bit twisted but you had gotten what you always wanted: to stop caring.

He let you indulge in your darkest thoughts, sometimes even entertaining your ideas and contemplating making them a reality. Though deep down he knew you held too much empathy regardless of your anger and hatred for people who had wronged you. It made you so different from his own way of thinking.

The both of you ended the night with warm food that Uraume had prepared, leaving it for you on the table as the both of you sat and ate the contents. It was a warm stew, filled with beef and vegetables, something that was simple but still delicious. Uraume always made the best stews. She had been around since before your marriage to Sukuna, always being a loyal devotee to him and his goal to take over the realm.

Deep into the night, the both of you laid in bed, wrapped in the sheets as you traced his tattoos with your fingers, letting yourself bask in his warmth and protective energy. Silent nights were the best part of your moments with him, it made you feel connected on a deeper level. Almost like you could see every part of him under the lens of vulnerability. He was gentle and calm, relaxed and laid-back, something that you had pride in knowing you’d be the only one to experience that side of him.

His hand played with your hair, stroking the pieces back as he lifted a strand and twirled it gently in his fingers. He felt your energy lessen, dissipating into a soft aura signaling your slumber. His energy mingled with yours, almost like you pulled him into you like a siren. He felt the intensity of his energy lure him closer to sleep, his four arms wrapping around you as he let himself breathe you in, basking in the comfort of your fresh scent before drifting into sleep with you.

Nights of peace forever embedded into the very marrow of his existence.

Peace was never long lasting, not when he was constantly being hunted by the sorcerers in the territories across the realm. Many of them traveled for days to seek him out, oftentimes failing in their quest to take him out of the realm entirely. He was no stranger to the target he had on his back at all times, it was what made him need to constantly stay at the top of the ranks when it came to manifesting and controlling his cursed energy. There were times when he would meet sorcerers that could match a fraction of his power, giving him a difficult time in fights but would never be able to land a killing blow. Injuries were the worst of his encounters and when these moments happened, it would leave him wandering back home with blood dripping off his body.

Today was one of those days.

Sukuna had gone off to patrol near the east border, seeking out a cursed object for his collection, the concept still new to the world of jujutsu. It wasn’t often strong sorcerers poured their energy into cursed objects but when they did, he wanted to consume it all in order to gain more power and rise in his strength. Seemingly, other sorcerers had the same idea as him to go after the cursed object, leading to confrontation and being surrounded by 20 men who seemed to hold high levels of cursed energy. Two of them radiated the energy of innate cursed techniques. He could sense the waves coming off of them as the group of men went after him.

He did well as he used his energy to protect himself, killing half of the men in a single blow, the waves radiating off of him and causing the atmosphere to grow cold as the blood soaked the ground they stood on. Two of the men tried to flee but Sukuna raised a hand, slicing their necks and their bodies toppling to the ground. The rest of the men charged at him with different weapons, one holding a katana that was imbued with cursed energy and managed to get a hit at him in the abdomen. Sukuna felt the sting in his flesh, cursing as he poured the controlled energy back and breaking the man’s spine, the bone protruding through his back as he fell to the ground dismembered.

His crimson eyes focused on the two innate users, watching as their energy radiated into a ball of energy that grew in power by the second. His energy was strong enough to defend against them, but the hit from the katana left him at a significantly lower level of performance than he would normally be at. His annoyance was making his energy levels rise, he could sense the doubt within the innate users, their eyes looking at one another before they tried to find a way to escape.

His eyes burned red, the irritation at being injured by peasants coursed through him that when the innate users tried to attack, he mustered his energy and cleared through their bodies in a swift slice. The power cut from their hips across to their shoulders, the top half off their bodies sliding off the bottom as their intestines fell onto the ground and their bodies collapsed lifeless onto the leaves of the wood’s ground.

He watched their lifeless bodies in disgust and irritation, turning towards his home as he left his residual energy on the ground, ensuring other sorcerers would find it and be able to stay away from taking another hit towards him.

He wandered through the territories, his side still bleeding as one of his hands pressed onto it to keep it from getting worse. When he reached the door to your home, you heard him enter, your heart dropping at the sight of him injured.

“Ryomen, what happened?”, you asked as you walked towards him, grabbing one of his hands as you looked at his wound. “What.. who did this?”

“Some lowlife peasants.”, he growled. “Fucking gutted them alive.”

You furrowed your brows as you walked over to the bucket of water on the table, wetting a small rag and walking back to him. He lifted his arm as you moved his robe out of the way to clean the wound, taking in how his flesh was red, bloodied, and irritated.

“How did they..”

“Katana imbued with cursed energy.”, he said simply, hissing at the feeling of the cloth touching his wound. You carefully moved the cloth away, grabbing some of the wrapping you had in the bedroom for wounds, and wrapping him up to ensure the wound wouldn’t bleed again. “They know they can’t win in a fight with just cursed energy, they need to use weapons?”, you said in an angry tone. “The jujutsu sorcerers in the villages are cowards.”

“Y/n”, he muttered. “They’re aware that they’re weak.”

You looked at him, a wave of concern coursing through you as he met your gaze. “They won’t kill you. They should know that already.”

“Y/n”

“They’re just like the Four Families, thinking they can get at the strongest by taking cheap shots. How does that make them any better than those who use pure, raw, cursed energy? If anything it makes them weak and worthless.”, you rambled. It wasn’t often he would hear you upset with other human beings or sorcerers, but when you did show the angry side of yourself it left him intrigued. You were considered the Princess of Peace yet deep down you held the rage of a warlord ready for battle. He knew it could easily be explained by the abuse you dealt with in your home, your father’s ignorance costing him the only thing that made his family have a claim within the realm.

“Y/n”, Sukuna muttered again. You met his gaze again, your eyes observant as you waited for him to speak. “I need you to do something.”

“Yeah?’”, you voice wobbled a tiny bit, barely noticeable but he caught it right away.

“I need you to stay here when I’m out.”, he said finally.

“What? Why?”, your brows furrowed, his body standing to its full height as he raised a hand to cup your cheek.

“The realm knows you’re my wife. You don’t think they would stop at nothing to somehow get to you? To take you from me?”, his thumb rubbed your cheek softly, your eyes filled with emotion.

He had contemplated the fact for the past few weeks, perhaps even since your marriage. You were his wife, the one he claimed as his in front of the entirety of the Four Families and every representative of the villages across the realm. He knew instead of making you untouchable, some ignorant and ballsy bastard would try and make the hit while you wore the biggest target on your back. Perhaps even bigger than his.

“Kuna, I can protect myself.”, you fought back, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re gifted, strong, wise, but that won’t stop the bastards in the villages.”, he let himself think of what ways he could keep you hidden, safe, away from harm. “They will find a way to end you with no regard for your family name or your claim with your ability.”

“But you have a far greater claim, they wouldn’t risk their lives so recklessly.”, he knew that was true too but it was still a risk. “Your claim is far greater than mine has ever been, you’ll continue on because you are the strongest, Ryo.”

“You are far more important than that.”, his voice was firm, not wanting to weigh in the choice of you or his claim to the realm. It was non-negotiable. “Your claim carries the weight of your inherited technique. You know the value of the gift you possess. It needs to continue through you, even if you choose to never use your domain.”

“And what about your claim? Who will continue it if you have no heirs?”, you blurted, your words dying in your throat in realization.

“You’re talking about heirs already?”, his lips twitched as he held back a smirk.

“I… it’s just, my parents they… they said you’d..”, you stuttered. “Isn’t that… isn’t”

“I don't want heirs”, he cut you off, his eyes boring into yours with conviction.“ I want you.”

“Ryo..”, the warmth in your chest grew, your heart pounding inside of you at his words. “Ryo, I..”, you didn’t even know what to say.

“So long as I get to exist in this realm with you, I don't need anything else.”

You felt his arms wrap around you, the other two cupping your face as his lips met yours in a long kiss, your head spinning due to his touch. You melted into him, your hands on his arms as your grip tightened slightly, completely forgetting about his injuries. Your hands made their way into his hair, tugging slightly causing him to groan into your mouth.

He lifted you up in his arms, taking you towards the bed and laying you down beneath him, his warmth on your skin making you feel safe. His presence felt like a shield, protective and ensuring you were safe from the harm that lingered outside. In that moment, everything faded away, the only thing that mattered was you being here with him. He needed you to be safe, needed you to stay alive. You were so wrapped up and tangled into his soul that you had become one with him. Even your energy had mixed with his and he felt you in every environment he was in, even if he was miles away.

As he hovered above you, you couldn’t stop but trace your fingers along his jaw, feeling the texture of the plate on his face as his eyes soaked you in. He needed you alive more than he wanted his claim to the realm. He’d said it to you times before, repeating it like it had never been said before: if you didn’t exist in this realm with him, he didn’t want to exist without you.

His hands skimmed down your body, his touch melting into you as they mapped out every curve of your form. His hands that were usually stained red from the blood of those he’d killed, were clean of any tainting. He would never taint you or your soul with such wicked doings. You were far too pure for that even in your indulgence of occasional dark thoughts. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, as you traced the tattoos on his chest.

The weight of his injuries were long forgotten as you lost yourself in his touch. HIs large hands were careful, yet firm in their hold, a promise of protection and adoration spoke volumes in the way he touched you. He shifted slightly, leaning down and meeting you in a deep kiss, his breath mingling with yours as your lips moved in sync with his. You breathed him in, feeling the scent of his musk drive you crazy as he deepened the kiss.

As he pulled away, he looked into your eyes, a depth of raw emotion lingering behind them. There was what you believed to be his only way to show vulnerability, something that didn’t come all too often for someone as guarded as him. The only occurrence of vulnerability would only be saved for you, sacred in the confines of your home.

“I don’t need anything else but this.”, he repeated. “I don’t want heirs or claim to the realm. Not without you.”

You felt a lone tear slip from the corner of your eye, Sukuna watching in deep emotion as he brushed it away gently. His expression softened a hint, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips brushing against yours softly. He kissed you like a man starved, a man who hadn’t seen his lover in years, all while his hands continued to touch every part of your body and commit it to memory. The sensation of his touch was electrifying, a reminder of how deeply embedded you were into his very being, a reminder of how in the world filled with corrupted, power hungry, and immoral beings, you were his sanctuary.

As the night wore on, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring your moments together as you had when you would sneak out with him only a month ago. The entire world existed outside the walls of your bedroom, but inside of them, only the two of you existed in the universe. In the walls of your home, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Sukuna’s body against yours, the gentle brush of his lips, the intensity of his gaze, and the softness of his touch.

This was what mattered above all else.

For him, the only thing that mattered was you.

Just you.

Over the next few weeks, the both of you spent time together training, his power showing you how to grow in your own right. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself, needed to know you could hold your own long enough for him to reach you in case you were in danger.

You had been outside training and sparring one another, him pushing you to your limits but not overdoing it. He may consider you strong but he was far stronger in terms of cursed energy, he wouldn’t go easy on you but he would push your limits.

After your sparring match the both of you went back inside your home, your body sore from the training, watching as Sukuna walked up next to you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss before he started kissing your neck. You could feel his energy, you knew exactly what he wanted. Though, you couldn’t deny you wanted it too.

You smiled at him, the lust in your eyes shining through as he picked your body up and walking over to the bedroom, placing you down gently as he hovered over you. His robe was already open, showing off the muscles on his chest and the black tattoos that swirled over his body. It made him drip with sex appeal, his abs and arms built with muscle and raw strength. It made you crazy knowing he was all yours forever.

His body moved on top of yours, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin as your hands tightened on his arms. He slowly opened the front of your robe, undoing the band on your waist to let the fabric fall around you. Your breasts were covered by the fabric, your stomach exposed to the cold air but warmed quickly by his overwhelming body. Your legs raised up to his sides, one of his hands grabbing your leg and holding it tight with his grip. Your soft mewls filled his ears, making him sit back as he undid his robe, letting the fabric fall as he exposed his body to you.

Gods, you were done for.

He let the robe hang around his waist as he finished undoing the rest of your robe, your naked body exposed to him as he soaked you in. His body had an immediate reaction to his delicate wife. You were the epitome of perfection, of the rarest gem he’d ever come across and your body was constructed by Kichijoten, even rivaling her own beauty.

You sat up, moving your naked body closer to him as he watched you come close to him, your eyes holding his gaze, you ran your hand down his face to trace his jaw. Whatever control Sukuna had left, snapped. In a swift movement, he lifted you up into his strong arms, holding you close. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. He needed you closer to him, your body against his was not enough, he needed to be inside of you, to feel you consume him as he fucked you senseless. You could feel him against you, his body flexing and his cock getting harder as he met your lips with his in a kiss was full of passion and dominance, and it lit a fire in your bones that send a rush of heat to your throbbing core.

The feeling of his naked body against yours was dizzying in the best way. You ran your hands over him, trying desperately to memorize every bump and scar as if this was the last time you were going to touch him. You felt his desire radiating off of him in waves, making you feel wanted in a way that you hadn’t experienced before. As he broke the kiss, his eyes met yours, filled with pure, unfiltered lust. He wanted you now more than ever. More than anything else.

His hands grabbed your body, burning his touch into your flesh as he whispered in your ear. “You’re mine. All of you, belongs to me.”, he growled. “You’ll never forget the way I make you feel.”

He met your lips again, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you closer to his body, your core throbbing at every word, every touch. You reached up, tangling your hands into his hair aas your bodies pressed together in passion. You wanted him, needed him.

“Relax. Not yet.”, he said in a low octave. “I want to feel all of you.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling the way his length hardened in anticipation. When he released you from his kiss, your hands moved down to push his robe away before he stopped you.

“Ryo.. please.”, you whimpered. “Let me.”

How could he deny you?

How could he say no when your eyes lured him in so gently?

What kind of man would that make him?

You stared at him, soaking in the way his muscles flexed and the dark markings on his skin moved with every motion of his body. You needed him closer, needed to feel him consume you completely. His hand came up to caress your face, his body relaxing as your hands continued to move the fabric from his body. His hands helps push the robe from his hips, watching you with dark eyes as you brushed against him causing him to flex.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you indulged in sex, but it was more intense and intimate everytime you laid with him. He was huge, long and had girth, something that worried you your first night together. He had taken your virginity in delicacy, consumating your marraige in the most gentle yet thorough way he could show that you were his.

You felt his muscle tense beneath the touch of your fingers, his abs flexing as you ran your hands down before grabbing his length, earning a hiss from him. His deep groans filled the air as he watched you intently, your other hand softly pushing him back against the headboard as you lowered yourself down, dragging the flat of your tongue upward, against the underside of his cock.

Sukuna’s reaction was immediate, bucking into your hand as his groans filled the air, sending a wave of arousal into you body. You continued, opening your mouth and taking him in, hollowing your cheeks as you moved. Sukuna’s hand reached down, tangling into your hair as he pushed himself harder, letting our another grown as you took him deeper down your throat.

“Fuck”, he tightened his jaw, watching as his cock disappeared into your mouth, your lips swollen as you moved up and down. “Fuck, that mouth.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, his head falling backwards against the headboard as he groaned, his grip on your hair getting together as you continued. His groans made you feel on edge, rubbing your thighs together to help relieve some of the tension growing in your core. You did a few more motions before releasing him out of your mouth, meeting his gaze in a hooded lust.

“Stop.”, he ordered. “Lay down.” his voice was deep, almost feral as he pushed you into the mattress. Sukuna’s hands took your breasts, his mouth coming down and swirling on the bud as your mouth opened to let out an airy moan. Your hips bucked against him, his other pair of hands rubbing on the outside of your most intimate area. His lips detached from your nipple, going directly to your neck as he nipped on the skin, his tongue swirling and creating pressure that only made you moan, making him smirk slightly at the reaction.

He kissed his way down, taking your nipple into his mouth again before continuing down to your core. Your entire body on fire at his slow, torturous movements to relieve the pressure.

His hand in between your thighs continued to dance over the sensitive flesh, your moans dripping from your mouth as he continued to torture you in the most blissful way ever. Your grasp on his arm tightened, your hips bucking against him. His other two hands slowly pulled your legs apart, your knees dropping to the side to give him better access.

Your body was on fire, desperate for a release as you felt his fingers run through the wetness at your core, through your sensitive folds, His finger circled your clit in a delicate motion, rubbing it in a way that left you powerless against him.

A gasp left your lips as his fingers entered you, your warmth welcoming him as the pressure seemed to relieve itself a fraction. You felt his fingers curl, causing you to arch into him as he moved them in and out of you in a delicious rhythm.

You needed more, begging him for more but whimpered when he pulled his hand away. You watched him with desperate eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he held eye contact with you, lowering himself and devouring you. Your moans fell from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets as two of his hands gripped your thighs and another your breast, playing with the nipple for more stimulation.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of the way you taste.”, he growled. You propped yourself up on your elbows, holding his predatory gaze as he continued to eat you out. His tongue was licking every inch of your dripping sex, swirling around your clit before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. He flattened his tongue against your folds, your body bucking slightly. Your legs started to tremble, Sukuna forcing them still as he continued his attack at your core.

“K-Kuna..”, your vision was getting clouded, the overstimulation driving into oblivion. The pressure was building in your stomach, your legs trying to move but were locked into place by Sukuna’s arms, forcing you into a position where you couldn’t move from how intense he was eating you out. His tongue alternated between teasing your slip and slipping inside of you, lapping up every drop of your sweet essence.

Your moans were loud, every whimper ringing out that you were certain if you were in a village everyone would be able to hear you. But you didn’t care, you had no shame in what you were doing with Sukuna. You wanted to let the world hear how good he was treating you and how thoroughly he fucked you.

He finally stopped, bringing his head up as he pushed two fingers inside of you. He pumped them in and out, curling them against that sweet spot that made you whimper. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your face contorting into pleasure as you gripped the sheets.

“Look at me.”, he growled.

You forced your head to look at him, his eyes staying locked with yours as he lowered himself again, attacking your sex with ruthlessness. He wasn’t letting up, indulging in every inch of your core and sucking on your clit as your screams filled the hot air. He was devouring you while fucking you with his fingers, it was driving you into insanity. His tongue whirled around in circles, making it hard to breathe as your moans filled the air and made the room hot with sweet, suffocating ecstasy.

He was making you feel everything all at once, you felt him everywhere. Pleasure coursed through your body as he continued to attack your core, making you sensitive under his touch. You tried to move your body, his hands pinning you down like you had chains on you, the pressure building in your belly begging for a release. His hands touched you everywhere, two of them held you down while one fucked you and the other played with your nipple, his mouth pulling your orgasm out of you by overstimulating you. The build-up was intense, the coil in your stomach loosened and your moans filled the air with a loud release, your body arching upwards as your body shook as your orgasm rippled through your body.

You sucked in deep breaths, your mind hazy and your thoughts scattered, not being able to form one coherent thought. You let out a soft cry when he lapped at your core again, drinking up the rest of your release as he placed a kiss as he watched your legs shake uncontrollably.

The sight of you completely at his mercy made him fill with pride. He wanted you like this with him till the end of time, to only be his to worship, to bring you pleasure in every way that mattered. An overwhelming sense of possessiveness flooded his body knowing he was the only man who’d seen you like this, the only one who got to know every inch of your body and claim every part of you. You were his, his queen, the only thing in this realm that made him weak.

His hands moved up towards you, his mouth sucking on your nipples as you arched into him, his tongue swirling as he tugged it with his teeth and a cry of pleasure being released from you. He let go and moved onto the other bud, repeating the same motion as you bucked into him again.

You moaned as you felt him at your entrance, his cock hard as it rubbed slightly against your clit.You bucked your hips against him, wanting him inside of you already as he continued to tease you. His bottom two hands forced your hips down, halting your movements as you begged for him to enter you.

“Ryo, please.”, you begged him, Sukuna said nothing as he kissed your neck and nipped at your skin. The stimulation was overbearing and it made you impatient, desperate for another release.

“Ryo… please.. I w-want”

“What do you want.?”, he murmured as he went back to eating you out, his tongue making your vision blur from how good he was making you feel. “Say it out loud.”

“I want you… I want you inside of me.”

“Saw what you want.”, he repeated as he attacked your sensitive spot, waiting for the words to spill out of your mouth as your moans filled the room. He made you feel on fire, two of his hands gripping your hips, the other driving his fingers inside of you while the fourth grabbed your breasts and played with your nipple. The over stimulation was bringing you closer to the edge as he continued his ruthless attacks on your body, kicking you into an overdrive of pleasure.

His bottom hands released their hold on you, pulling your legs apart as he settled in between them. You looked at him with lust, his body moving so he could align himself at your entrance. He grabbed your wrists, forcing them above your head with one of his hands as another grabbed his cock and aligned it with your entrance.

“Eyes on me.”, he demanded, his voice dripping in sexual frustration. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned at the feeling of him filling you, stretching you out. He slowly pumped himself in, allowing you to adjust to his size before pushing all the way in.

You let out a moan as he moved against you, feeling your inside adjust around him. Your body was still sensitive, his movements bringing you closer to crying from how overstimulated you were. Sukuna let out a guttural groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he bottomed out, his eyes still holding yours captive as he pumped in and out of you. His demand for eye contact drove you crazy.

“Fuck”, he grunted, his thrusts slow and hard as he pushed deeper inside of you.

You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you, your head turning slightly. Sukuna’s hand grabbed your face gently, turning it back towards him as he kissed your lips.

“Look at me.”, he demanded as his hand wrapped around your throat, making your cunt ache with anticipation. You loved how gently he manhandled you. He completely dominated you and you loved it.

You spread your legs wider, letting him move deeper as he began to drive into you with no restraint, never breaking eye contact as he soaked in the sight of you flushed, red, and breathless.

The sound of skin slapping skin, your airy moans, the wetness of your cunt, and his groans while you dug your nails into his back made the atmosphere and the room fill with heat and mix with sweat. He drank it all in, making him turn completely savage.

You rolled your hips against him, trying to match his rhythm as he thrusted into you. Sukuna raised his body, looking down at where your cunt wrapped around him as he filled you, soaking in the sight of him disappearing inside of your tight cunt. He grabbed your legs, lifting them over his shoulders and ramming harder inside of you, positioning you perfectly for his rough, relentless thrusts. You were absolutely breathless watching how savagely he fucked you, ramming into you and snapping his hips like it would be the last time he’d lay with you.

He was fucking you so thoroughly you’d thought he was doing it to embed himself so deep into your being that you would never forget him. He wanted to fill your body with every inch of himself and solidify his claim on your very being and existence. You were his and that was all that mattered.

Sukuna fucked you as your thoughts jumpled into a mess of pure pleasure. Your whimpers and moans were music to his ears, your mind drunk on the feeling of him wrecking you, stretching you out, hitting all your deep spots, and making your legs shake with pleasure. You wanted him to fuck you like this forever, wanted him to treat you like you were a whore. He would never call you that, but you wanted him to wreck you in every way he knew how. Just when you thought the pleasure couldn’t intensify, Sukuna reached a hand between you, finding your swollen clit and began to rub circles around it. Your gasps fill the air in delicious music.

“You’re so good for me.”, he growled. “Mine to fuck forever.”

“Ryo, please.”, you begged for release, but you knew Sukuna was nowhere near done with you. The first time you had sex was him fucking you long and hard, showing you how a man should fuck his wife on their wedding night. But this, this was worlds away from your wedding night. This was a different caliber of Sukuna you never thought you’d experience.

“Fuck me, Ryo.”, you moaned, your voice filled with raw desire. Sukuna felt a primal possessiveness, taking things harder, faster, deeper. He thrusted into you with aggressiveness, with power, his lust swirling into massive amounts of energy. You cried out in pleasure, your body shaking underneath him from the pleasure as you gripped the sheets as he drove deeper into you.

He watched you intently, admiring your body as it sprawled on the bed, his hands on your hips as his eyes soaked in the way he was fucking you dumb. Your face was red and hot, your breasts were covered in his bite marks, bouncing with every thrust he did. The noise of your fucking was evident, obscene, intense—the sound of the headboard slamming the wall, the sound of your wet cunt dripping, the moans, the heavy breathing, the cursing. It was hot, dirty, sweaty sex. His grip on your hips grew tighter and he thrusted into you with more speed.

Sukuna’s movements became faster, his grip tightening as he lifted you to sit on his thighs, leaning back against the bed while he wrapped a hand behind your head and exposed your neck, swirling his tongue as he fucked up into you. His cock moved in and out of you, his other hands gripping your hips as he lifted you up and down in movement with his thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”, he groaned, his hands gripping your ass as you felt his cock swell inside of you, your cunt clenching around him as you rode him into oblivion. Your movements were erratic, fast, hard, his groans dripping into your ear.

“Ride me just like that.”, he moaned. “Show me how good you are.”

His words made your head spin, your body arching into him as his hands touched you everywhere. One on your ass, one on your breast, another choking you, and another tangled in your hair, his mouth attacking you in every place that made you weak.

As you sank into him, he bucked upwards, your bodies moving in sync, his throbbing cock filling and stretching you. Your eyes grew heavy, slightly closing but Sukuna wanted you to look at him, the hand around your throat tightening as you opened your eyes to meet him.

“I said…”, his voice was demanding, possessive. “ Look. At. Me.”

The sound of his aggressive tone made your walls clench around him as he fucked you, your breath ragged as you tried to breathe. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and possession, and you could feel your orgasm building as you looked at him. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to fuck you harder, his hips bucking up to meet you. You felt his cock sliding deeper inside you, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking with pleasure.

“Fuck.”, his groan was deep. “Look at me when you cum.”, he forced your eyes to meet his.

You felt the buildup of your orgasm coming, his hands pulling you into him as he thrust into you. Your forehead rested against his as your eyes locked together, seeing deep into his soul as he continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of you in a delicious pace.

“Kuna.. I-I’m close.”, you whimpered. His hands gripped onto you tighter, pulling you closer, and thrusting deeper into your core. You felt his heart pounding in his chest, his breath deep and ragged as he fucked you into oblivion, his eyes never leaving yours. You were surprised he had so much stamina, so much endurance. He was still fucking you like you had just started and didn’t want to stop.

“Come for me.”

Almost like it was on command, your body trembled, your orgasm crashing over you as the pleasure rippled through your body in waves, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. You gasped his name, the convulsions spreading through, your legs going weak, and the sensitivity consuming you. You felt his tense, his cock swelling inside of you, he was close.

Sukuna’s thrusts were rough and hard, each one reaching the sensitive spots inside of you. Your cunt kept clenching around him, milking him as he increased his speed with deep groans. His thrusts were rougher, sloppy, intense, his hips moving in erratic strokes as he drove deeper into you. Your high was still rippling through, his cock hitting your most sensitive spots and making you moan as you rode out your high while he urgently tried to reach his.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging as his teeth nipped at the curve of your neck, feeling the tension building in his shoulders as his body tensed underneath you as he neared his climax. He gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin and drove into you with aggression. You knew you would be covered in bruises, scratches, and bites thanks to him. Your thighs, hips, neck, and breasts would be covered in his markings that he left claiming you as his. The thought drove you absolutely feral.

Sukuna’s breaths were ragged as he bucked into you, a string of curses falling from his lips as he let out a primal groan, his teeth biting into your skin as he came, his cum spilling deep inside of you. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you, his hips still thrusting upwards, almost like he was breeding you. His hips moved slowly as he tried to catch his breath, the ripples of his muscles still evident from the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on your hair and hips loosened as they traced your spine in a gentle and soft line.

He held you close to him, both of you sitting in your sweat and cum as he came down from the high, his cock still deep inside of you. You sat up, your hair sticking to your forehead as you met his gaze, a groan escaping him as you moved on his cock. He was still inside of you, your essence mixing with each other as his cum leaked from between your legs and onto his skin. Two of his hands rubbed your thighs, his eyes meeting yours in an intense stare— lips swollen, faces red, hair messy, bodies sweaty, and covered in cum.

You tried to catch your breath, letting your lips part as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips and letting himself bask in the marks he had left all over your body. He admired his work, your body littered with bite marks, scratches, bruises, and hickies. A smirk played on his lips as he pulled out of you, catching your limp, tired body as it fell against him. He laid you down onto the sheets gently, standing as he went to grab a wet cloth.

You laid in the sheets, your body weak from the two hour session the two of you just had. You felt Sukuna’s arms pick you up ten minutes later, your eyes heavy from the tiredness, not before feeling the warm sensation of water enveloping your body. You forced your eyes open, taking in the sight of your body in the bath. You felt Sukuna’s hands run through your hair, his body behind yours as the both of you soaked in the warm water.

He held you close to his chest, cleaning you and massaging your legs to help your body recover from his intensity. You laid against his chest, feeling his chest move gently as he bathed you, brushed your hair, and cleaned your sensitive areas, letting your body get the most of the relaxing water before he dried you off and carried you back to bed. A deep slumber falling over your body as you laid with him, naked in bed.

There was nothing better than being with Sukuna.

Nothing better than being his.

114 notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 4 months ago

Text

AUTUMN DIRECTORY, 2024. (KINKTOBER)

ORANGE BEGINS TO TRICKLE IN, meaning it's time for newfound romance and horrors written in blood. this index contains upcoming pieces—everything from oneshots, headcanons, blurbs—and instructions for autumntime requests! quite similar to kinktober, but this isn't limited to kinks, is open to requests, and is not restricted to a daily schedule (because that would be hell).

REQUESTING RULES:

I. see rules here for general, annual information that still applies. fluff, smut, angst and horror is allowed. only writing for tlou characters. II. to be within the autumn realm, requests must (obviously) be related to festivites, occurences, or genres entailed under fall. this encapsulates october and november; halloween and family gatherings—but is not limited to those. (e.g something like a date in a leaf-scattered park, intimacy in a carinval, or mundane settings such as a college campus, count.) III. halloween requests can be directly related to the celebration, or complete deviations into horror. i have a horror oneshot cooking up at the minute (quite a few, technically), so most requests will be written into blurbs or drabbles. mythological creatures, murderers, folk legends, and movie-inspired dynamics are some ideas. but some of you are very creative, so please, do bend and amalgamate tropes to your heart's desire! (e.g a posessed, ballerina murderess would be fucking insane—in the best way possible.) IV. you can still send requests for kinktober, but this is just here to announce that i'm taking anything autumn-related. multiple versions are allowed for different kinks (e.g sub!reader, dom!reader, would count as seperate versions). also, do be wary that i won't write every kink, especially if it violates my rules.

LIST OF FICTION TO COME:

𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | vampire!reader x hunter!ellie [predator and prey dynamic, can you guess which is which?]

information: chances are, if you're an old reader of mine, you've seen this draft announced here and there a year ago—it has gone through metamorphosis. now, it has a predator and prey storyline to it. probably the only kink related oneshot, but it is not tied down to that. it explores a serious, horrific, non-sexual side of it, and gradiates into something more sexual. (using time skips)

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 | jackson!reader x jackson!ellie [a request from one of my lovely anons. congratulations, it's a oneshot!]

information: this is where fluff, and romance, will nestle in a hearth setting. one of my anons requested a fic where ellie and reader cook dinner for joel and a special lady friend (yay for side charecter romance), ellie totally disgusted by the fact that joel has a supposed girlfriend now. (in a weirded-out, daughter type of way, y'know?) also ellie cannot cook for shit.

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 | jackson halloween party, gone wrong! [title is a double entendre, you'll see why.]

information: so. funny little title. basically i just wanted to write something about a jackson halloween party, how it would go, what everyone would wear, who would be making out in the bathroom of whatever building it happens in—oh and some murder. it isn't a party in october if nobody dies, so.. yeah. (ellie and reader totally aren't the ones making out and getting freaky while someone gets killed. definitely not. heh.) this one will probably have comedic undertones to it. love us a good comedic fic, honestly.

(let me know if you want to be tagged for any of these)

SHORT WORKS:

every request for this directory will go here. check later!

#kinktober #autumn directory #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams masterlist #tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #lesbian #sapphic

93 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 2 years ago

Text

Yandere! Feitan Portor General Profile

Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, murder, mentions of torture, mentions of Feitan carving his initial into you, mentions of masturbation, stalking, jealousy, threats, Feitan tortures a man in front of you, I stand by the (semi) soft creepy yandere Feitan agenda and I will not be swayed otherwise, this got super long I'm so sorry, I'm also delirious as I'm writing it so hopefully it makes coherent sense/is consistent, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Empathetic

In general, Feitan finds his attention drawn by a darling who is almost the complete opposite of himself.

He wants someone sweet and caring, all soft and squishy and warm. He’s never found this particularly attractive before meeting his darling, but there’s something oddly endearing about the way they’re always trying to help those around them, fruitlessly asking them to vent about their feelings, to use them as a supportive shoulder.

It makes him scoff, rolling his eyes and wondering at how impossibly naive his darling can be, but even he can’t deny how nice it is to have someone by his side, a human presence that’s steady and calm and understanding. It makes him feel good, a warm sensation bottling up in his chest and threatening to explode out, and although he’ll never really come clean with how he feels for you (at least, he never will verbally), a darling who can kind of read his rather emotionless face would be a very, very big attraction for him.

He just wants a darling who can understand him, even if his rational brain loathes the idea. An empathetic darling is sure to draw his attention, if only because he’ll be mildly revolted and intrigued by how they can be so selfless and so foolish.

Submissive

Feitan doesn’t want a feisty darling.

He doesn’t enjoy having to tame his lovers, and although he’s never really had a lover, he gravitates towards someone who is more naturally submissive and willing to follow direction.

He already feels powerless enough in the situation, frustrated that he doesn’t really have any say in how he feels. It scares him, quite honestly, if only because he doesn’t like how easily and quickly he’s jumping to conclusions where his darling is concerned, more than willing to jump through any hoop necessary in order to get what he wants, in order to make sure his darling is safe and isolated from every other man on Earth.

He likes knowing that his darling will do what he tells them to; it builds a layer of trust that makes Feitan go feral, and for every ounce of trust his darling gives him, he’ll try to return it as full heartedly as he can. He likes that he’s fully in control of his darling, and particularly if they were to be submissive in more… intimate aspects of the relationship, he’d be absolutely smitten.

He just wants his darling to revere him and believe his word as the word of God, and the moment that happens?

He’s only falling deeper into obsession, his desperation for them growing with every beat of his heart, getting harder and harder to swallow until he gives up, jumping head first into every swirling, dark, lecherous desire he harbors.

Soft

Of course, Feitan’s darling doesn’t have to have a softer body, but he can’t deny that there’s something enticing about a darling who is physically quite soft. Whether that’s rounder features, a plumper figure, or even a soft, demure voice, it all entrances Feitan.

His darling is something of a dream to him, because he’s never really believed that someone that stereotypically weak could ever really survive in this world. He likes how his darling feels, the touches he sneaks late at night when they’re sleeping sending sparks up his spine and serving as fuel for when he’s unbearably horny, his hand around his cock not nearly enough.

He’s prone to fantasizing about his darling, slipping into daydreams of his they’d feel in his lap, how they’d look with their ass up and face pressed into the mattress, how they’d feel so good wrapped around him. He just thinks it’s oddly endearing, and a darling who fits these characteristics would help initially draw his eye - he just thinks they’re pretty, a polar opposite to him, even going so far as to playing into some of his more protective traits.

Of course, he’d rather die than admit any of it, but he’s interally a bit soft for his darling - they’re just alluring in an almost primal way he can’t describe, but he can’t fight it. He can’t fight anything when it comes to his darling, as it turns out, and soon Feitan will decide that he doesn’t care.

After all, once his darling steps into his life and stays there, nothing at all matters - how can it, when he’s decided that they’re his, his woman to keep and admire and touch and fuck?

(It will take him a very, very long time to get comfortable with either of the last two options, but the desire and sentiment is still there, if the frequent raging erections he gets as a result of his darling is any indicator.)

Talkative

This trait is one of the things Feitan loves and hates most about his darling.

He enjoys listening to them talk; he himself isn’t particularly fond of conversation, nor is he particularly talkative towards his darling in general. And so, a partner who is capable of filling the silence between them sometimes is something that makes Feitan grateful, if only because hearing the sound of their voice makes his breath hitch.

And when they talk to him, all their attention aimed solely at him?

Well, how can Feitan not be flattered, not feel a bit prideful that they’re spending their time directing all their focus and thoughts around whatever small question he prompted them with? He just likes listening to his darling go on and on, even if the topic doesn’t interest him much. However, the downside of this trait is that it creates a rather ugly combination with his tendency to grow jealous.

If his darling is talkative with everyone, it’s sure to extend towards the men they meet, who just stare at them like they’re a slab of meat waiting to be devoured, all of them eager to get their hands on them and destroy what Feitan has claimed as his own. It’s infuriating, if only because it means that they’re interacting with others, putting themselves into a position where they could develop feelings for another man or be put into harm’s way or overhead something they shouldn’t have or any number of things.

It becomes a massive liability, and one that Feitan is so, so very aware of. It irritates him, and as much as he loves when his darling is chatting with him, he’s not so approving when they're with others.

And so, it’s really in his darling’s best interest to reign in the conversations with anyone else - unless they want to see their blood splattered all over the walls, hear their cries, feel Feitan’s red soaked fingers grasp onto their arms and force them to see the results of their chattiness. It’s in their best interest, and they’ll learn that soon enough. Hopefully.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Distant

There’s a part of Feitan that genuinely hates you for making him feel the way he does. The constant pounding of his heart when you’re merely mentioned, the throb in his chest when he’s gone too long without seeing you, the nervous twitch of his fingers when he thinks about what you’re doing, what other man you’re thinking about…

He hates how paranoid you’ve made him, how so much of his time and energy goes into you. It’s your fault that he’s always distracted, that he’s not able to fully focus on his work anymore because he’s only able to think of you you you. It’s frustrating, and honestly it initially wards Feitan off from getting any closer to you - he doesn’t like the way he feels around you (that’s not true, but he needs it to be), so he’ll stay away and ignore you. Maybe that’ll get you to stop smiling at him so kindly, to quit asking him how his day was, to stop looking so pretty while you hum and make yourself dinner.

As time passes, slowly this hatred diminishes (or at least dulls), instead replaced with a desperate, pathetic need to be around you; he just can’t keep himself away from you, no matter how hard he tries. It’s demoralizing, embarrassing beyond belief that someone like you could get his emotions so twisted, but it’s reality.

He tries to fight it at first, believing himself to be above such stupid human emotion – he doesn’t need you, he’s a criminal and has never needed love or anything of the sort. And yet, each and every time he tells himself to not trail behind you as you walk to the grocery store, his resolve holds out for roughly five minutes. By then, there’s unwelcome thoughts drifting through his mind about what you’re doing, whether you’re talking to anyone, if you’ve managed to trip like you always do and scrape your knee.

(There’s even a small, very small part of him that wonders whether you’re buying foods that are nutritious for you, or whether you’re doing your usual junk food spree. A thought pops up in the back of his head: him beside you in the store, scoffing as you place chips into the cart. He’d replace them with fruit, mumbling something about you being so stupid, only to see you smile at him and thank him, telling him how grateful you are to have him watching over you. His cheeks feel hot at that, and he buries his face deeper into his jacket, grumbling under his breath.)

He’ll try to stop himself from circling back to you, but each and every time he finds some excuse of why he should be watching you, of how you aren’t really capable of taking care of yourself without his watchful gaze. It’s patronizing, more than anything, but eventually he’ll stop trying to fight it, submitting entirely and allowing himself the concealed pleasure of watching your horribly mundane life.

He’ll need to be around you, constantly, but he’s still not willing to let his emotional guard down. No, you’ve done enough damage just simply existing - you absolutely cannot know how deeply he feels for you, how wrapped around your pinky finger you have him. Not only would it eliminate any semblance of leverage he holds against you (in order to stay above you, that is), it also showcases just how far the extent of his feelings for you run.

And frankly, the thought terrifies Feitan – he’s never felt so strongly for anyone before, not even in the context of hatred or pleasure at their suffering. He’s in over his head, wading through waters he's always scoffed at and dismissed, and suddenly he’s finding himself nearly drowning, head always buried just under the surface.

So he steels himself, grabbing onto any shred of control and power he can against you – he grabs on and clutches on, strong fingers frantically staying attached so that he doesn’t get blown away and truly drown. And even in the beginning of your captivity, Feitan won’t change the way he’s so detached. He’s purposefully putting distance between the two of you so that he can remain in control of the situation, in control of you, and – most importantly, and most concerningly – in control of himself.

Because frankly, Feitan doesn’t trust himself around you. He doesn’t trust the way his body just does things, how any rational thought leaves his brain the moment your eyes meet, how fingers are already lifting up a bit to reach out touch you, to brush away stray pieces of your hair when you’re within a few feet of him.

The biggest way he maintains this control is by not giving you a whole lot of attention, aside from one stark, grave exception: his dark eyes are constantly watching you. He’s always just sort of staring, his expression blank as he observes you, motionless and still. It’s unnerving, terrifying you initially and only slightly calming down as time passes, but Feitan doesn’t care much.

He doesn’t necessarily want to interact with you, but just watching you allows him to be in your space, to be beside you, to smell you and listen to your breathing. You’re kept in one large room most of the time, and he’ll often sit in the chair in the corner and just stare. He’s not talking much, not trying to touch you or hurt you, but you almost wish he would sometimes.

He just doesn’t understand what about you it is that attracts him so deeply, that’s morphed him into this lovesick fool, and while he initially tries to understand, eventually Feitan gives up, because does it really matter?

Does it really matter how he became obsessed with you when you’re locked up in his spare bedroom, duct tape covering your mouth and an expressionless, frozen Feitan watching you with his heart practically bursting out of his chest? Does it really matter if he pinpoints exactly when he developed his love for you when you’re looking at him with those pretty tears in your eyes, whispering out a thanks as he sets the tray of food down in front of you?

It really doesn’t, now that his feelings for you are formed and solidified, now that they can’t be changed or reversed. So while he’ll never be the most accessible and sympathetic to your feelings, rest assured that Feitan really does love you in some fucked up way - he’s just unorthodox, incapable of properly expressing himself to you.

But actions speak louder than words, right? He’s always thought so.

Obsessive

Because Feitan is relatively quiet and secretive when it comes to his feelings towards you, it’s difficult for you to really pick up on this aspect of him. You’re unlikely to ever truly understand just how much he feels for you, the sheer depth of emotions you cause him.

He won’t ever tell you what’s going on behind that expressionless facade of his. He doesn’t tell you how oddly adorable you are when you’re sleeping in the early mornings, curled up in the corner of your room with your eyes shut and lips slightly parted, looking so soft and sweet and weak.

He’ll never make you aware of how his breath hitches ever so slightly when you make eye contact with him, even if it’s shaky and you look away too quickly, his spine tingling because fuck, your attention feels good.

You’ll never know why his foot is tapping lightly when you’re eating in front of him, the way those annoying nerves eat away at his stomach while he subconsciously wonders if you think he looks attractive today. (He’d trimmed his hair a bit, feeling it was too long and interfering with his work - do you like it? Did you notice? He’d hesitated a bit with the scissors earlier, brows slightly furrowing, dark eyes glancing at your sleeping form.)

He’s very cryptic, and this tendency to keep you out of the loop of his personal thoughts and feelings can cast a shadow on his more obsessive tendencies. That is, before he’s stolen you away from the world, Feitan did an extensive amount of research into you. He does nothing on a whim - he’s a calculating man, and once he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his feelings for you weren’t going to disappear, he was scouring every resource possible to garner your information.

He’s got access to all kinds of personal knowledge about you - your search history, for example. It’s a bit unexpected, if Feitan’s being honest - you’re much darker than he’d expected, the things you read about making him quirk a brow, his interest in you only deepening because hmm, seems the little sheep may be a bit of a wolf inside.

He’s getting Shalnark to hack into the camera of your phone and computer, the stream of footage easy to access as he cleans his tools, blood washing away as you smile and laugh at some comedy you’re watching.

It’s stupid and at first he pretends to find your laugh annoying. But then he sees the way your cheeks get all full and round as you smile, your eyes crinkling up, even the way you wheeze slightly when it’s really funny.

(Briefly, he wonders whether you’d find his dry sense of humor entertaining.)

He’s got photographs of you from his time spent trailing you, and though they’re a bit blurry and not as focused as he’d like, they’re still something nice to pin to his wall, keeping his favorites beside his bed. He’s never had trouble sleeping, but something about looking at you as he drifts into slumber makes him rest more soundly, wake up more refreshed.

Once you’ve been trapped with him for long enough, however, Feitan’s front of careful indifference to you will slowly begin cracking. You’ll never see fully through him, but you’ll catch the way the corners of his lips twitch up ever so slightly when you snuggle into the blanket he gives you one day, noticing how you’ve been shivering incessantly at night.

(He won’t tell you the blanket was freshly stolen, that he’d made sure to take one with the softest, thickest material he could find, and even in your favorite color. It’s just a coincidence, so don’t read into it.)

You’ll realize he’s slowly inched closer to you the longer you watch the television program Feitan turned on earlier, your spot on the couch feeling smaller and smaller as Feitan’s hip eventually brushes yours, neither of you acknowledging what’s happening.

(You’ll never know how badly he wants to reach out and touch you, to freely run his hand up and down your thigh, so trace your collarbones, to feel just how soft your body is.)

It all makes him feel weak, pathetic, disgusting, but Feitan can’t help it. There’s something magnetic about you, and he can’t pull himself away. His pride won’t allow him to fully succumb to the thoughts and desires about you that are constantly swirling through his mind, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, that they aren’t bothering him constantly. He’s secretive, and maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know how many nights he’s spent with his fingers wrapped around his cock, his pale cheeks rosy as he imagines the way you’d like tied up with hickeys he made spanning the insides of your thighs.

Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know how often he’s (begrudgingly) held the extra pillow on his bed close to his chest, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tightens his arms around it.

(No, he wasn’t imagining it was you – he’s a touch starved man, and everyone has urges, right? It’s just coincidence that the pillow casing is one he stole from you, that he never washes it because it smells like you, that he nearly loses his mind when he almost gets a drop of blood from a victim on it.)

It makes it much easier to scare you into what he wants when you don’t know - you’re much more complainant this way, malleable, willing, and Feitan likes it that way. Sure, having you fall in love would be ideal, getting your obedience through a genuine desire to please him, but at least this way he can keep a piece of his pride intact.

This way, you’ll never realize the power you have over him - how he’d be willing to wipe out entire towns for you if you so much as mention it. You’ll never understand just how he needs to have you - to have you for what, you don’t know, but you can sense the odd sort of desperation coming off of him.

You can feel it in the way his fingers grip you just a bit too tight, the way his eyes linger on you just a tad too long, the way the smallest, most embarrassing little whimper falls from his lips when your hand touches his.

He’s good at hiding it, but everyone makes mistakes - just don’t pry too hard, because Feitan still needs to be the one in control, and you’ll quickly find yourself learning much, much more about the short man than you’ve ever wanted to know. Namely, that the only thing worse than him staring at you is him ignoring you.

Protective

Although, it will take you a very long time to see this side of him. Initially, Feitan’s feelings towards you are that of mild interest, mild disgust, and mild indifference.

Mild interest because he had, of course, noticed that you were pretty, what with your soft lips and doe eyes, your figure and the lilt of your voice. Indifference, because Fietan was sure there were a thousand other people just like you on Earth. And disgust, because you were so visibly weak and unable to fend for yourself, like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.

And yet, the more time he spends around you (maybe a long job has him centered in the same city for a few weeks, and you work at the little store he gets his meals from, or some other service job that brings you in contact regularly), the more complex these feelings become. His interest becomes peaked because you’re not just pretty, but also entertaining to talk to, handling his dry jabs well and even daring to throw back some jokes of your own. (He never laughed, of course, but a wry smile sat underneath his jacket.)

He’s still a bit indifferent, but not when you’re helping other customers or smiling down at your phone. (Were you texting someone? Your fingers were moving, implying typing – what were they saying that was making you giggle like that? What could he say that would make you giggle? Why does he care?)

But the starkest, quickest change of heart that Fietan experiences in how he feels about your strength and abilities. Of course, you are weak. Even if you can use nen, even if you know the basics of self defense – Feitan is sure that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, cleanly, easily. (He’s sure because he’s thought of doing it before – never seriously, just a fleeting thought, something that only briefly passed through his mind when he was still resistant to his attraction towards you – it was promptly expelled after that familiar sinking, uncomfortable feeling started up in his gut, but still.)

You’re embarrassingly weak, really, and as much as he tries to make himself ignore it or to simply stop caring about it, he can’t get it out of his head. He can’t seem to stop imagining you getting hurt, doing something stupid or careless and tarnishing that pretty skin of yours.

He can’t seem to stop imagining the way you’d take a corner too fast and slip on your own feet, tumbling to the ground and ending up with a sprained ankle or a scrape across your knee.

He’ll be sharpening a blade, blood stains caked onto the metal, and suddenly a flash of what your blood would look like staining the material makes him freeze for a moment, black eyes just a tad bit wider, the muscles in his arms and legs taut because there’s something sickening about the thought, something malicious and just carnally wrong.

He can’t help but imagine how you’d fare against someone like his coworkers, whose strength is difficult to handle even for an experienced nen user. How would someone like you fare against someone like Uvogin? Someone like Shizuku? Hell, even someone like Kortopi?

(Upon first meeting Hisoka, a very sudden and very intrusive image of the clown slicing a card clean through your throat flashed through his mind, and he’d nearly reached forward and ripped out the taller man’s heart at the thought, a purely instinctual response that left him more shell-shocked than he’d care to admit.)

He knows you wouldn’t stand a chance, and while he doesn’t want it to bother him, it does. It does, as much as he tries to forget the mental images or assure himself that you deserve getting injured for being so weak and helpless. But he can’t just sit still and let it pass by, if it were to ever happen - and so, Feitan’s protective tendencies begin manifesting.

They’re small, for the most part; making sure to keep his torture tools as far away from you as possible, just so that there’s no chance of you accidentally tripping or running into one or being stupid and getting any ideas.

He’s making sure that you’re under his watch as often as possible, becoming your second shadow and stalking you every free moment he can spare, just in case someone unsavory crosses your path.

He’s making sure that all your locks are working every night, compulsively checking them even though he knows they’re still good.

He keeps his protective tendencies under wraps, making sure that they’re subtle and just ambiguous enough that you won’t pick up on his intentions. Because while there’s something appealing about you knowing that he wants you to be safe, he would rather you not find out just how extensively he watches you, just how much he cares about your wellbeing, deciding that it’s yet another potential opportunity for you to manipulate him.

And of course, he’s embarrassed - he briefly considers requesting help watching you from a Troupe member or two, only for when he’s aware for long periods of times on individual jobs, but eventually he chickens out, too scared to have to explain why he wants Pakunoda to keep an eye on you.

He’s not embarrassed of you, per se, but rather the extent to which you affect him. And even once he’s stolen you away (an action which has roots in his paranoia for your safety), those protective tendencies are still firmly in place. He’s not a good cook, but he still tries to provide you with somewhat healthy foods, even if they’re undercooked and limp, bland and just overall unappealing.

He’s by no means an interior designer, but he’s getting you a somewhat soft, thick blanket, making sure the one pillow you have isn’t covered in stains or lumpy. It’s all subtle, nearly unnoticeable things that you’d have to be very perceptive to catch onto - but to Feitan it’s all important, because while he may still resent you for turning him into a lovesick fool, he’ll be damned if he lets you starve or be uncomfortable.

It’s stupid and he knows it, grumbling to himself the entire time he’s doing something to prevent hurting you, but it’ll always get done - and if you were to ever notice it, to thank him? Feitan would deny your allegations, telling you to shut up and eat your food, all the while the tips of his ears turn pink and his heart flutters because you noticed.

You noticed the way he takes extra precautions for you, the way he thinks of you and your wellbeing, even having the gall to thank him for it…

Don’t bring it up again or he’ll grow angry, but the pride sitting in his chest at your words is enough for him. It’s enough for him to know you see him, that you’re paying attention to him, that you appreciate all he does for you - it’s enough for now, at least.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Feitan is, unfortunately, a bit prone to jealousy – as someone who is aware that he isn’t the best option out there for you, the acknowledgement that there is a multitude of other men that deserve you more and could likely land you never fails to get past him.

He’s so, so aware of the fact that you likely don’t like him, that stalking you and planning to kidnap you likely doesn’t earn him any favors. He knows he’s fairly quiet, and while it’s mostly a fear of mildly embarrassing himself that bars him from actually interacting with you, it only pushes Feitan to worry that you only see him as a strange, unfamiliar man.

It’s likely that you think of him as nothing more than an acquaintance, a man who doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you. And so, the minute that another person tries to flirt with you, to look at you and think of you and speak with you, the insecurities over how you perceive him are blooming in his chest, growing and blossoming into full blown panic, because what if you fall for another man?

Of course, Feitan has absolutely no problem eliminating the threat, even enjoying taking the life of such a worthless man, but he can’t help the way fear grips his heart, cold and stabbing and brutal, because while he may be icy and difficult to approach, a stone face that leaves little emotion o be seen, Feitan wants you so fucking badly, to the point that it genuinely hurts.

And while he isn’t all that soft towards the beginning of his obsession (and really, even once you’ve been ‘living’ with him for a while as well), he does honestly want for you to return the feelings, to love him and care for him, to want to be with him and enjoy your new life by his side. Ideally, he wants you to fall for him, to see him and smile, to have your soft skin pressed against his rougher, more callused skin, your hands cupped in a firm embrace, a soft hug, a kiss against the lips and short, whispered words of trust and acceptance.

Of course, it’s makes him feel so damn pathetic each time he gets caught in a daydream where you’re smiling and laughing with him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and telling him he’s handsome, but try as he may, he just can’t allow another man to steal the opportunity to make you theirs.

He wants to be the only one in your life, the only man you see and think of and talk to, and quite honestly Feitan will succeed – his profession is death after all, and he’s a master at stalking his prey, locating their weaknesses, seamlessly killing and annihilating his target before they even have a chance to fight back.

And so, once his jealousy is triggered, the poor man’s fate has already been decided. Feitan’s never been particularly merciful, and where you’re concerned, this trait only grows - it feels good to kill whoever dared to speak with you, like some sort of cathartic release of all the emotions he’s been bottling up, all the anger and desperation and self-loathing and yearning trapped in his chest.

It feels good, euphoric in a way he can’t describe, and so he’s quick to jump on any man posing a potential threat to your status as single and ripe for Feitan to claim. He’s a trained killer, after all, and who is he to waste away a perfectly good target?

When the man in the black dress shirt approaches you in the grocery store, Feitan’s eyes narrow. The shorter man had been trailing you all day, watching you go about your weekly errands, and the tri-annual trip to the grocery store had been your last stop. You’d managed to evade any male attention today, a fact that had Feitan simultaneously sighing in relief and growling in anger.

And yet, here you are, dressed in a rather provocative set of leggings that have Feitan’s eyes absolutely glued to your supple ass, matched with a slouchy, oversized sweatshirt. You’re cute, he begrudgingly admits, and it seems the stranger agrees.

Feitan’s standing in the next aisle over, staring through the holes in the shelving to see the way you tap your chin and scan the aisles of bread, searching for the perfect loaf. You don’t seem to have noticed the man slowly walking up to you, his eyes visibly scanning up and down your body. Feitan scowls, black brows drawing tightly together as he debates what to do.

On the one hand, there’s not much he can do - you’re in a public grocery store, and he doesn’t particularly want you to notice his presence. And yet, he can’t just let this man approach you, speak to you, look at you, now can he? He grits his teeth, steeling himself to just watch for now, and jump in if the time is right, if he feels the man goes too far. The man clears his throat, making you jump and look over at him, the suave smile he sends you making your own smile falter a bit.

Which bread’s best? He’s asking you, and you answer quickly, naming your favorite brand and which style you like best - Feitan’s scowl only deepens when he realizes you’re telling him the truth.

The man nods along, before his smirk turns smarmy, one eyebrow cocked up as he asks which rolls are best then? I’m thinking they’re yours.

You blanch at that, disgust written across your face as you awkwardly laugh and inch away, but Feitan sees none of that - how can he, when he’s already moving, already grabbing the man by the neck and sprinting down the aisle and around the corner, all too fast for you to see with the naked eye?

You’re confused, unsure of how the man just suddenly disappeared, but his comment left you shellshocked and lost at what to do, so you quickly grab a random loaf and anxiously push your cart away, trying to put distance between you and wherever the man had ended up.

Meanwhile, Feitan’s got the man held against the back wall of the grocery store, fingers wrapped around his neck and a cold, menacing look in his eye.

Bastard, he grits out, tightening his grip and feeling the way the man panics and scratches at his fingers, trying to rip them away.

Disgusting, she is mine, didn’t your mother teach don’t touch what’s not yours? Feitan’s shocked he hasn’t just slaughtered the man yet, but there’s something in his heart telling him to prolong this out, to let the man suffer, to make this as slow and torturous as possible. He wants the man to bleed, to scream and sob and beg for his mercy, for being stupid enough to even try to seduce you.

Feitan’s angry enough that his breathing is uneven, his muscles occasionally flexing without his permission, the rage simmering in his veins nearly potent. He can’t stop replaying the sight of your disgusted and uncomfortable look, the fact that this scum caused you to feel such an emotion making his skin feel hot, his fingers eager to steal the man’s life.

He smiles as the man wheezes, the lack of oxygen making his face slowly take on a purple hue. What’s wrong? Can’t breath?

He squeezes once, harshly, roughly, and the man splutters, spit dribbling down his chin and getting onto Feitan’s wrist. He scoffs. Filthy, disgusting. Die.

And then the man is being stabbed with his sword, not once, not twice, but again and again and again, until holes and wounds decorate the planes of his chest, blood flowing down in rivers onto the dirty concrete floor.

The man is dead within a matter of seconds, but it’s not enough for Feitan. He’s quick to throw the body to the ground, kicking and stomping and mutilating the body until its unrecognizable. He’s still breathing hard, his fingers shaking, and he finishes it off with a spit at what was once the man’s face, a scowl thrown his way.

Pathetic, he says, dark eyes closing for a few moments as he looks to sense your familiar presence, already on your walk back towards your apartment. Feitan gives one last, firm kick, before taking off, the urge to have his eyes on you once more making him rush even quicker than normal. He’ll spend the rest of the evening watching you, like always, but this time he’ll pay more attention to your face.

You’ve never looked at him the way you looked at that man, all scared and revolted.

You’ve never tried to get away from Feitan, never ran or panicked or anything of the sort. Pride swells in his chest at the knowledge that you like the dark haired man more than that mangled corpse; you’d choose Fietan over him, he’s sure.

And as you slip under your covers, a soft look on your face as you drift to sleep, Feitan can’t help but slide open the window, slipping into the bedroom and coming up to stand beside your unconscious form.

Would you choose him over other men?

If given the choice, would you want him?

He’d always choose you, his heart always coming back to you no matter what he does or how he hates it - and one day, he’s hopeful you’ll feel the same. One day, you’ll be just as stupidly, pathetically, frantically in love as he is.

He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Someday, you’ll be all his.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

It takes Feitan a long time to resort to kidnapping you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but rather that it’s never been a priority for him. He’s reclusive, and because it takes him so long to sort out his feelings for you, stealing you away was certainly not at the forefront of his mind.

It takes him so long to even admit to himself that he cares for you, and that process alone takes anywhere from a month to three months, and only then does the stalking begin. Only then is he allowing the feelings for really grow, to fester and brew in his chest until he’s insatiable, desperate to see you and be in your presence. It takes him so long to warm up to you that he just simply doesn’t have the time or forethought to consider taking you for himself - that is, until his protective tendencies begin coming into play. Once he starts actively caring about your safety and wellbeing, little thoughts begin springing up in the back of his mind. He’s chastising you mentally for staying up late, the hands on the clock moving past hours he’s comfortable with.

He doesn’t like when you lay in your bed scrolling through that damn phone of yours, the bright light bad for your eyes and making you delay sleeping for as long as possible. It makes him angry (if not hypocritical, seeing as he himself only gets roughly four hours of sleep per night), and before he can even stop himself he’s thinking of how he’d make you fall asleep if he was with you, prying that phone out of your hands and telling you to sleep now.

He doesn’t like when you walk home alone at night, as if you’re practically asking to be mugged or assaulted or killed, which is why he has to follow you, begrudgingly hiding in the shadows and trailing you as you meander back to your apartment.

You’re stupid, is what you are, and as time passes, Feitan becomes more and more shocked at how lightly you take your own life - how can one single person be so careless? How can you be willing to eat food so close to the expiration date, or look both ways at the sidewalk just once? You’re helpless, truly, and it pisses Feitan off.

It makes him mad, if only because he’s trying so much harder than you are to keep you safe, and isn’t it unfair to him? Isn’t it awfully inconsiderate of you to make him spend so much time looking after you, doing everything for you because you’re so damn incapable? It’s a negative view and Feitan doesn’t really blame you, only convincing himself he does in order to make him feel better. It’s an excuse to help him feel like he isn’t as attached as he really is, a way to help alleviate some of the embarrassment he has regarding his feelings for you.

It’s pathetic, he thinks, but then something happens - something bad, something Fietan had hoped never would. Somehow, an enemy of the Troupe had discovered you. Maybe he was too preoccupied by keeping his eyes on you that he missed the stranger’s presence, unknowingly leading them directly to you.

Sweet, weak, defenseless you.

Time is frozen for Feitan as he returns from Troupe work, slinking to your apartment and letting himself in the front door, knowing that although it’s horribly late, you’re surely freshly asleep - except, the door is already ajar, and Feitan feels his blood run cold. There’s someone here. It doesn’t matter if they’re a friend or enemy to you - why the fuck is there another person in your home at such an ungodly hour?

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and for a moment Feitan feels pure, absolute panic - you’re incapable of warding someone off, especially if you’re asleep, and although he feel sense your presence, there’s a distinct aura coming from your bedroom that isn’t yours. He’s quick to rush in, dark eyes narrowing when he sees the figure over your bed, a man hunched over and about to touch you -

His sword is slicing through the man’s neck before he can even blink, head dropping to the ground with a dull thud and blood pooling where it lands. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, brows pinched together and his grip on the sword hilt tight.

His gaze flicks to where you’re still sleeping peacefully, utterly unaware of the man standing beside your bed and the lifeless corpse bleeding out onto your floor. He’s got no choice, really - there’s something ugly stirring in his chest, something big and bad and painful, and he’s reaching out and scooping you into his arms all too quickly.

The man surely was after Feitan - he’d looked at him with recognition, and Feitan can only swallow and tighten his grip on you ever so tightly, hopping out your window and taking off into the night, the makeshift home he’d been residing in lately eventually coming upon the horizon.

The whole event spurs Feitan to believe that relocation is really the best option - his enemies are aware of you now, and who’s to say more won’t come knocking? How does he know you won’t be targeted again, those with vendettas against the Troupe knowing that someone weak and such an Achilles Heel like you would be the perfect revenge?

He doesn’t, and so although he’s grimacing and slightly worried to have you under the same roof, he sets you down on the hard mattress, giving you a few glances before closing the door, sighing to himself and hoping you wake up soon.

Feitan, once you’ve been stolen away, is mostly just an enigma to you.

He’s so painfully unexpressive, so difficult to interact with that you’ll be left to wonder just why he stole you away, why he even bothered to take you when he seems so utterly disinterested in you. He doesn’t talk to you - outside of a few clipped, short commands, he’ll hardly ever let you hear his voice.

Particularly in the beginning of your captivity, he would listen to your crying and begging to be released silently, his eyes slightly narrowed before a small, curt stop filled the room.

He’s never given you any sort of an explanation for why you woke up in his home one day, even when you ask him over and over again. He’ll only look at you, dark eyes fixed on your face, before telling you to go to sleep, you need sleep and promptly shutting and locking the bedroom door. He’s entirely unwilling to really interact with you in any meaningful way - except, it’s not because he hates you, or because he’s simply biding his time to kill you.

You may think that, fear swimming through your veins every time you see him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth - he’s not interacting with you much because there’s a part of Feitan that’s honestly afraid to. It makes him feel stupid and pitiful, but every time he tries to ask you a question or tell you something, the words just sort of die in his throat, his tongue frozen in his mouth even as he tries to move, tries to interact and get you to just look at him, dammit.

Honestly, he’s embarrassed to speak to you - he’s been watching you for so long, acting as your shadow and seeing you so natural and perfect and raw, and he’s grown used to having a front row seat without having to do anything. He’s not used to you being able to see him or hear him or even know he’s there at all. It’s scary to have you be aware of him, placing him in an uncomfortable position where he can no longer simply watch you or long for you from afar - no, now, as much as he hates to admit it, he cares about your opinion.

He cares about how you view him, how you perceive him, what you think about him. He wants you to think he’s funny when he tells cutting jokes, and generous when he gives you bowls of semi-cold soup. He wants you to find him attractive, catching your eyes settling on his body or your fingers running through his ebony locks.

He wants your opinion to be favorable, but despite how strong this desire is, the fear that you’ll find him weird outweighs it. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s terrified that you’ll think he’s strange, a freak, some sort of monster if he talks with you. He’s scared he’ll say something wrong, something to scare you or offend you, and while he may be a mass murderer and an atrocious man, there’s something about the way your eyes would get all glassy and teary, face contorting into disgust as you physically recoil from him that makes his gut wrench, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

He’s too awkward and nervous to speak with you - and so, he resorts instead to the staring, to the watching, to the observing. It’s what he knows best, after all, considering that was how most of his time was spent before kidnapping you. This is better; he has control in this situation, and he won’t accidentally slip and say something that bears too much truth, that lets you in on too much of what’s going on in his head.

There’s less room for error if he relegates himself to minimal verbal and physical interaction, and while he aches to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your cheeks or the texture of your hair, he’s restraining himself. Just the mere thought of your skin against his gets him shivering, but it’s quite easy to overwhelm him; he’s not used to being the recipient of your attention, and while it feels good to have you looking at him and attempting to start conversations, it can get to be too much for him very quickly.

It’s easy enough to answer trivial questions; things like what the food is that he placed in front of you (doesn’t matter, it’s good is all he’ll answer with) or inquiries into why he wears that same massive coat all the time (warm and my favorite color).

Those are easy enough, not breaching too close to anything personal or anything that you could use against him. But the more complex questions, or - once the Stockholm Syndrome eventually kicks in and you’re so lonely you’ll happily converse with your kidnapper - compliments?

As soon as the words slip from your lips, a simple your eyes are pretty or a I hope you sleep well makes him stiffen up a bit, lips parting ever so slightly under that cowl of his, before he’s quickly darting out the door and slamming it shut behind him. He has to take a few moments to collect himself, his ears and cheeks feeling hot because god, you were looking right at him, and you’d even said his name.

(He spends the rest of the night in the basement, compulsively cleaning and recleaning his torture tools over and over, trying to distract himself from replaying your compliments over and over in his head, ingraining the sound of your voice and the tingling warmth he felt into his brain. Everything is sparkling clean by the time he’s done, a few hours having passed, and yet he’s spent the whole time thinking of you, letting you plague his thoughts like you always do.)

He just can’t handle having all of your attention on him like that, and although he gets better at it and more used to it as time goes on, he’ll still be very skittish. He’s like a feral cat; he’ll stalk and watch, staring at you with beady eyes from the corner of the room while you try and act natural, only to scamper away when you try to reach out and pet.

You’ll be starved for human contact as his captee, but aside from the lack of any sort of touch, you’ll find that being stuck with him is actually not too bad - he feeds you a decent diet, and lets you live in the spare bedroom of his home. He’d even cleaned everything up before you arrived, a preemptive measure he underwent one night when he couldn’t sleep, both his dreams and thoughts revolving around you.

(There’s still bits of dust and a spider or two in the corner of the ceiling, but everything smells not terribly musty, and you don’t notice any mysterious stains on the sheets, so it could be worse, right?)

He leaves you to your own devices more often than not, just on the condition that he can be present, whether you’re reading a book or sleeping or doodling with some art supplies he stole for you a while back. He’s not too demanding, but eventually the Stockholm Syndrome will get to you - you will eventually start wishing he’d do more than just look, even when he comes home with blood speckling his jacket.

You’ll grow to wish he would sit just a bit closer to you, so that you could feel his body warmth or a brush of his skin against your own. You’ll hate yourself for endearing your captor, but you don’t have much of a choice - Feitan, while terrifying and absolutely capable of killing you in more ways than you can count, is strangely sweet in his own way, even if it takes you a while to notice it.

He’s not buying you flowers or declaring his undying love to you, but he is leaving small, insignificant gifts on your nightstand, maybe a small pastry that you love, or even a small, pretty little jewel he managed to snatch away from the goods Chrollo said were communal among the Troupe from the latest heist. He won’t ever say anything about them, and if you bring it up to him he’ll either ignore you or deny their existence, but he likes leaving them there as a token, as some way of quelling the intense desire to please you that wells in his chest.

It’s the only route he can allow himself to take, because that way he doesn’t have to confront you, only looking at your sleeping face. You always look so peaceful and pretty this way, all the lines of stress and worry smoothing away - you look how you used to, before he stole you away, back when his infatuation first started.

And as he gently, carefully, hesitantly sits down beside your sleeping form on the mattress, he can’t help but gulp harshly and slowly, ever so slowly, reach out and rest his palm on your leg, the sheets separating your skin. He’ll keep his hand there for a while, dark eyes appraising your form under the covers, before exhaling shakily and standing back up, making sure the jade he’d brought back for you was securely on the bedside table, right in your view when you wake up. He’s not a bad captor by any means; he just has trouble expressing himself, walls built up too highly and too thickly to ever really knock them down.

And you’ll get close - as close as you can, at least, as time passes. Feitan will eventually warm up to you, but he’ll never be particularly loving, particularly obvious with his feelings for you - he’ll always be a lovesick fool, but he’ll be damned if he lets another soul know that.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Feitan doesn’t particularly like hurting you. Of course, his career rides on his ability to harm, torture, mutilate and extract information out of even the worst criminals and agents, and for the most part he enjoys it.

There’s something about the way he can elicit screams and tears out of others that gets him giddy, the smile stretching across the part of his face covered by his jacket as wide as can be. And yet, for all the enjoyment he derives out of hurting others, seeing you harmed, bruised, crying and begging isn’t nearly as fun as Feitan had expected.

He’s not really sure why, but for some reason seeing you looking at him with so much fear dancing in your pretty eyes makes his gut wrench, an uncomfortable feeling sitting at the base of his throat while he mutters something demanding you to stop looking at him like that. It makes him feel weak, frankly, that you have this effect on him, but he can’t help it – early on into your captivity with him, he tried to settle your disobedience by physically harming you, but he got as far as leaving a rather large carved ‘F’ right over your heart before your crying got to him.

He couldn’t lift his hand as you sobbed below him that day, your wrists bound by leather cording stained with his previous victims’ blood. Your eyes were puffy and glassy, snot dripping from your nose and pathetic little cries and begs for him to stop tumbling past your quivering lips.

Frankly, Feitan was embarrassed for you. But more than anything, he was pissed – his hands were trembling, the switch knife grasped between his fingers frozen, his dark eyes wide as they stared down at you, guilt flashing through them the longer you sniffled and shook, the sight of you in pain with your pretty red blood dribbling down your collarbone simply too much.

That day, he cleaned your wound, packed up his torture gear and locked you into your designated bedroom, all without a single word, mostly because his tongue didn’t seem to be working. But the shaky gasps stumbling from his lips as he stared at his own two hands later that night were enough to make him realize he hates to see you in pain, particularly when he’s the cause.

It’s confusing, irritating, scary, even, that you have this effect on him, but try as he might, any thought of physically harming you from that point on makes his stomach twist, bile rising up his throat and nausea hitting him square in the chest.

But trouble, of course, arises; he refuses to physically harm you in most cases, but he still will only tolerate absolute obedience from you. You can’t simply walk all over him, he won’t let you – you need to listen to his instructions, follow his rules, eat the food he gives you, smile at him all pretty and warm, and let him sneak into your room and hold you when you’re fast asleep in the middle of the night, just as he starts craving.

Feitan needs you to be obedient and submissive to him, and so how can he mold you into the perfect, obedient partner without laying harm to you?

The solution, as it turns out, lies in making you absolutely believe that he will hurt you, despite it not being true.

You don’t need to know that the thought of making you wince or scrunch up your face in pain makes him physically hurl; no, you’re much better off thinking that he’s simply playing nice, waiting for the right moment to strike and leave you broken and bleeding. He’ll allow you to believe that he’s constantly ready to punish you, because then you’ll have some incentive to follow his words and rules, and to do what he believes you should do.

And why wouldn’t you believe it?

You know what Feitan does – he makes no effort to hide the torture tools scattered across his basement, and while you’ve only been down there once (the initial carving of the F), your imagination can conjure up plenty of scenarios of what goes on in that damp, dark basement.

The fact that he has hurt you leads to you staying mostly in line – you’re more than aware of what he’s capable of, and although it slightly pains Feitan that you think of him as a monster, it’s for the best. It’s better for everyone when you’re well behaved – when you simply follow his orders and do what he wants you to, no matter how strange it makes you feel.

You probably aren’t particularly fond of eating in front of him, but he’ll be sitting at the other end of the table as you carefully, hesitantly, twist the strands of pasta around your fork, your gaze flickering from the slightly undercooked noodles to your captor and back again.

You probably don’t really like sleeping while he sits in the corner of the room, that stupid jacket pulled up over his mouth, making the only part of him visible to your drowsy self those damn eyes – and his hands, of course, with just the slightest touch of dried blood under his nails. You’re probably not particularly a fan of any aspect of being his captive – and Feitan carefully controls this.

However, on the off chance that you do act up, that liquid courage flows through your veins and you cross him, you’ll quickly grow to regret it. Feitan still won’t hurt you – not physically, at least.

But others?

Well, it’s not hard to get Chrollo to give him someone who needs to give up some information, to set up the basement and make sure you get a front row seat as he makes the knots tight around the man’s wrist. It hurts him, really, to see the way your face contorts into horror as you watch him break bone after bone in the man’s body, but Feitan can’t stop looking at you. He needs you to be watching – you have to see what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t really want you to know.

You have to know that he’s serious when he tells you that you can’t leave, that there’s nowhere in the world you can run to where he won’t find you. He rips the man’s nails off, a finger at a time, just to make sure you understand that his touch can hurt – but maybe, some part of him hopes, you’ll realize that when he touches you, his touch is only ever gentle. Or at least as gentle as he can be.

It’s all to make sure you understand that he’s utterly, absolutely in charge – his word is law, and while he craves for you to love him, he’s willing to compromise with just your respect and undivided attention.

It’s not ideal, but as he watches the way tears stream down your cheeks and your body heaves and shudders with your sobs, he can’t help but slice the knife into the man’s thigh deeper, send the punch to his jaw harder.

He has to keep you in line – this complicated, doomed relationship he’s forced you into is the only thing that makes him feel that strange, fluttering feeling in his chest, and he’ll be damned if he lets it go. He’ll be damned if he lets you go – even if you think of him as a monstrous, sadistic freak.

Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t; it doesn’t matter, because you’re never getting away.

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

The danger that lies with being Feitan’s darling is much more mental than physical. By all means, he’s not the ideal captor – he’s a criminal and mass murderer, torturing people for a living and liking it. And yet, there’s something about you that tones down the more deranged, violent aspects of his personality - he’s by no means soft, but he’s rounder at the edges, less rough and bitter and cold.

He hates himself for falling in love with you, for having allowed you to worm your way into his heart and settle there, plaguing his every thought and dream with your face, your voice and laugh and smile and god, your body -

He blames you, initially, but as time goes on and his feelings only grow stronger, harder to suppress, he finds that it doesn’t matter. You’ve already staked your claim on his heart, and there’s simply nothing he can do to stop what’s inevitable.

Kidnapping is imminent with him, but it really does take him a long while to actually go through with it; you’ll have a long period of freedom from his clutches where you’re living your own life, with him only controlling it from the shadows rather than blatantly, like when he’s stolen you away. He’s not particularly needy, only demanding that you stay in his line of sight, but there’s something more terrifying about the way he’s always watching you like a hawk watches its prey than simple touching would be.

You’re thankful he hasn’t forced himself on you or even forced any kind of affection, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that you miss human touch, that you almost wish he would reach out and hold your hand, press a kiss to your lips, slip the ratty old t-shirt he’d given you over your chest.

You’ll find yourself growing stir crazy under Feitan’s rule, growing desperate but still too scared to confront him, because his intentions with you will remain ambiguous at best - he hasn’t killed you yet, so you must be important to him somehow. You’re not sure, but the longer you spend with him, the less you’ll care until eventually you’re actively dreaming of the day when he finally, finally touches you with those cold fingers and lets you out of that bedroom you’re locked up in.

Feitan loves you, in his own sick, twisted way, and the sooner you realize that the better - maybe you never will, but Feitan will always, always be there waiting, his gaze never faltering once from your figure.

You’re just too mesmerizing, after all - and Feitan’s never been particularly good at denying himself what’s his.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan portor #hxh x reader #_hxh #_lee's profiles #_feitan portor

769 notes · View notes