#tw:vomit

[ashthedweeb]

TW: VOMIT AND MENTION OF SUICIDE

Should specifiy that my uncle died 3 years ago but ive had way too much time to think

[my-whumpy-media]

[goryhorroor]

horror → highest-grossing movies of domestic box office

[aeolian-mode]

Overcrowded ER, 3:48 AM

[titan-fodder]

Rating: E (explicit)

Count: 5.3k

Warnings: female-bodied reader, mentioned killings, general gang-related things, explicit sexual content, oral (M receiving), vomit, degradation, Kisaki is pretty mean, but reader is also kinda unhinged, intercourse, squirting, heavy heavy gunplay, filmed sex, conflicting feelings of love and murder, one (1) gun wound

A/N: This is part of Cummunity's Tender Taboos Collab. Definitely check out the full masterlist, but make sure you read all the warnings! This is probably the darkest thing I've personally ever written. I listened to Initiation by The Weeknd on repeat and I think it shows.

Tetta doesn't think you necessarily enjoy watching him torture and kill people, but he does know it interests you—arouses you. 

 Maybe it's about power. Maybe it's just morbid curiosity. Whatever the case, it never fails that when you get back to the base or his penthouse, you're touching all over him and soaking through the skimpy panties he bought you the previous week.

 He's not bothered by it. It just solidifies something that he's been coming to terms with for a while, and it's that you're a crazy fucking bitch. 

 And, he sort of loves it. Not that he'd ever admit it. 

 The girls that came before you were usually just bimbo bed-warmers, but you're something else entirely. A different breed of woman. 

 You like touching his guns just as much as you like touching his cock—sugar sweet with doe eyes that you use to get anything and everything you want whether it's jewelry or a Glock. 

 Top-of-the-line makeup, gemstone earrings, lingerie that have literal diamonds sewn into the fabric. Tetta says he buys it all to shut you up, but the truth is that he likes seeing you happy. He likes the way you prance around all done up, the way you bat your eyelashes and smile while murmuring, "Thank you, Tetta," like his name is a song. 

 All of that is only scratching the surface, though. You're almost bestial behind closed doors (and in public on occasion). Wild little thing, up to try everything at least once, you let Tetta fuck you however he wants, and that—having that kind of power over your body—is intoxicating. 

 He's drank the world's best scotch, snorted the cleanest cut cocaine, shot the purest heroin straight into his veins, but none of it compares to you. The way you can kiss him so tenderly only to turn around and bite his lip so hard it bleeds. The way you let him throw you around and come back begging for more. The way your pretty pussy blooms for him at the slightest touch.  

 He's fucking weak for it. Which is a problem of its own. 

 Tetta knows he's a heartless son of a bitch. That shouldn't be news to anyone, you least of all. So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that he's thought about killing you. He's had ample opportunities, when you're curled up in his arms, coming down from an orgasm. When he's got you pinned underneath him, helpless and wanton. Even when you're alone and singing in the shower, completely unaware of the way he's standing right outside the door with his gun cocked. 

 He can't bring himself to do it, though, and it makes Tetta sick to his stomach when he realizes it's because he cares about you too much. He hasn't used the 'L' word for a very long time, not since her, but sometimes when he's strung out on bliss, and you've fallen asleep with your head on his chest, he considers whispering it. 

 And, that's when the urge to put a bullet in your head is the strongest. It races through his veins, makes him hot all over as he grows so angry with himself he can't even think straight. 

 How did he let this happen? How did allow himself to start feeling this way about another person? 

 It makes you a liability, and it makes him weak. Gives his enemies something to take from him. Tetta thinks he might burn the city down if anyone hurts you—other than him, of course. 

 He can live without his guards, without his echelon—doesn't trust half of them anyway. Can live without Hanma (would prefer to some days, honestly), but you… 

 You've become his Achilles heel, and he fucking hates you for it almost as much as he hates himself. 

 All these thoughts are currently absent from his brain, thank Christ, but it's only because they're being replaced by business talk and your mouth on his cock. 

 It's not a private affair. You're not hiding beneath his desk or anything modest like that. No, you're right between his legs where he sits on one of the plush couches, a few of his men across from him trying and failing to focus on the professional conversation, but once Tetta places a hand on the crown of your head to urge you further, four pairs of eyes immediately dart downward.

 "Hey, eyes up here, assholes," he snaps immediately, speaking loud enough to mostly cover the way you gag around him. "Don't look at what she's doing, look at me."

 "Sorry, boss, it's just that, you know—"

 "What I know is that I wanna get all this shit planned out for tomorrow, and I wanna get it planned out while getting my cock sucked. That a problem?" he asks with an arched eyebrow. 

 "No, no, course not," Hakkai shakes his head. "Sorry."

 "... acting like you've never gotten head before," Tetta murmurs, then transitions back, "Anyway."

 You are doing an exceptional fucking job, though. It's almost hard to keep a straight face as you lick up and down his shaft, pausing to suckle at his head before bobbing forward again, taking him until your nose is pressed to his pelvis. 

 Tetta has to take a deep breath to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head, pets your hair in unspoken praise, and when you swallow around him, his hips actually twitch. 

 This is the reason he brought you back to the penthouse in the first place. You'd seen him in Atsushi's club, recognized him, then flirted until Tetta was sufficiently flustered, hiding it with an easy arrogance. 

 He took you to a back room only he and a few others have access to, pushed you to your knees and fucked your throat, then lifted you back up and fucked you against the wall. 

 Immediately pussy drunk, he made a point to visit the club more often, searching for you until he found you, and after a few more desperate hook-ups, he caved and brought you to his apartment. That's when you became a little more honest with your interests and bedroom habits. 

 Tetta can still remember the way his back smarted for days from the claw marks you'd left him with. Remembers the way you'd begged him to choke you, the way you'd grinned when he did as if your every dream was being fulfilled. He remembers you tapping his hand to signal you needed to breathe, and he remembers not letting up. Your eyes had widened, a spark of fear in them, and then you came all over his cock. 

 There were finger-like marks around your neck for a while, a collar of bruises that was quickly replaced by high-end leather, a little heart dangling from a ring in the center with Tetta's initials carved into it. 

 He had it bad for you from the get-go. He had tried—is still trying—to explain it away as simple possessiveness, but that's simply not the case. 

 Yes, he wants to own you, and he wants everyone to know it, but there's a little voice in the back of his head that tells him that's not all there is to it. That he wants you to own him too.

 And, he thinks… he thinks you might be aware of it. 

 You'd recently gotten him a new watch (with his own god damn money). It's gold and shines in the light, the face of it outlined in tiny diamonds, and right on the clasp there's a small heart carved into the metal. 

 "Didn't wanna put my initials 'cause, you know, danger, but I thought a heart that matched this—" you tapped the charm on your collar and trailed off. 

 It was a smart move, and he told you as much, then smirked and questioned, "When have you ever cared about being in danger?" 

 You looked up at him through your lash extensions, lips settling into a pout.

 "I always care about it. Always think about it." You had paused, glancing down and playing with his hands then murmured, "I only want you to hurt me. You know that right?"

 It felt like there was a hand in Tetta's chest, squeezing and twisting, and he recalls a split second where he thought of grabbing the gun on the table next to him and blowing your brains out, but the urge was outweighed by the way you lifted your gaze to his again. 

 "I know, baby," he said, reaching forward to grip your chin, licking his lips when your eyes glazed over. "I won't let anyone else hurt you, okay?" 

 You nodded, and Tetta added, "And, if anyone does, I'll kill them," just for good measure. 

 It's not often you're that vulnerable with him, though you're looking a little pathetic right now, tears streaming down your face as you bob on his cock. You've been at it for a while now, but Tetta will be damned if he actually comes in front of his men. Just a few seconds of letting his guard down, of being lost in ecstasy, that's more than enough for a traitor to get the jump on him. 

 So, you'll remain on your knees until this meeting is over. 

 Whenever you start gagging too much, you pull back to lick up and down his cock, sucking pre from his tip, and rocking your hips into nothing when the taste hits your tongue. 

 You're getting desperate now, want something to fill that spoiled little princess cunt, and you'll get it. Just not right now. 

 Your own hand makes its way between your legs, and Tetta grunts in disapproval. He doesn't give a fuck if his guys see his cock slipping in and out of your mouth, but he does care about them getting the pleasure of watching you touch yourself. They don't deserve a show like that, aren't fucking worthy of it. 

 To distract you from your own need, Tetta pushes your head down, making you take him all at once until his tip hits the back of your throat. He sees the way your shoulders heave, body rolling, and you look up at him with blurry eyes in a panic. 

 He knows what just happened, has done it before, and he can feel the very slight burn of stomach acid on the sensitive skin of his cock. 

 You whine, trying to pull back probably so you can spit vomit onto the floor, but that's definitely not going to happen. Instead, Tetta keeps his hand firmly on the back of your head and commands, "Swallow," in a low voice. 

 More tears spill from your eyes as you shudder, but sure enough, your throat moves as you clean up your fucking mess. Tetta is simultaneously disgusted and aroused by the action, reminded of the unwavering power he has over you, all the sick shit you're willing to do for him. 

 He finally moves his hand, allowing you to pull off of him and cough. The bottom half of your face is a mess of tears and mucus and precum, and you let out a couple sobs before returning to his cock, arms shaking where they're braced on the floor. 

 Tetta should tell you to stop. Should give you a break. 

 But, how else is he supposed to clean his dick off right now? He's not just gonna get up and wipe himself down while his men wait for him. No, you're going to have to take care of it. Maybe then he'll let you go upstairs where you can shower and cry about him being, so mean, Tetta. You're so mean sometimes!

 He has to be, though. For his own good. 

 As if you can read his mind, you lap at his cock until you deem it okay to put back in his pants, then you're pushing yourself to your feet and skittering out of the room. Tetta watches you for a moment before turning back to the men across from him. 

 Smiley is the only one bold enough to say anything about it, and even then it's a simple, "Damn, boss."

 Tetta shrugs then gets back to business. 

 When he inevitably has to venture upstairs, Tetta does so with a glass of scotch in hand, gun tucked into the back of his pants as he prepares himself for whatever you've been stewing on as well as a few slaps to his chest. He can handle it, can incapacitate you in many ways, so he's not all that worried as he enters his large bedroom. 

 As expected, he finds you curled up under satin sheets, hair still wet from your shower, collar discarded on the nightstand, and you glare at him as soon as he steps into your line of sight. 

 "Oh, don't be like that, sweetness," Tetta tries, setting his gun next to the leather on the table and sitting down next to you. He isn't shocked when you scoot away from him just like you aren't shocked when he catches you by the arm and tugs you back close. You slide over the silken material easily, no friction to help you fight, but even if you could scramble off the mattress, you wouldn't. 

 There are other times you fight him, but that's more of a game than anything, one you know you can't win. 

 And, you know you can't win this time either, so even as you sniffle, you let Tetta pull you into his arms, cradling your head and back like the little crybaby you are. 

 "I don't like when you do stuff like that," you tell him, voice so quiet and honest it almost makes him feel bad. 

 "Thought you liked it rough," he tries to tease, but you aren't having any of it. 

 "Rough sex is one thing. Asphyxiating on my own fucking vomit is another," you snap, trying to sit up the rest of the way. 

 Tetta's grip is tight, one hand at your waist while the other curls into your hair, and he feels his temper spike. "Watch it. Don't be a fucking brat."

 "You made me swallow throw-up," you argue, struggling out of his hold and speaking to him in a tone he has not heard in a while. "In front of your men. It was gross. Made me feel like some kind of cheap whore." 

 Tetta is moving faster than you can track, pushing you onto the bed with a knee between your legs and fingers around your throat. 

 "What ever gave you the impression that you're not a cheap whore?" 

 Your eyes blaze in a way he's never seen before, filling with angry tears and fire. He watches as your jaw moves, cheeks going hollow for a moment, and he knows—fucking knows you're about to spit in his face, but before you can, he abandons your neck in favor of digging fingertips into flesh right in-between rows of teeth. 

 "Don't you fucking dare."

 You can't speak in this position, but oh, that glare sends a shiver down his spine. This expression, furious and volatile and wild reminds Tetta—

 Crazy. Fucking. Bitch. 

 "I'm going to let you go now," he tells you sternly, "And, if you try to spit at me again, I will fucking kill you right here, right now. Do you understand?”

 You can’t nod, but you don’t need to as you squirm beneath him. It takes Tetta a few seconds and a glance downward to realize you’re trying to grind against his thigh. You can be pissed all you want, doesn’t mean you don’t still want his cock.

 “You’re disgusting,” Tetta hisses, and he can feel the muscles in your face shift as you try to smile before letting go. 

 “And, you’re a dick,” you shoot back, stretching your jaw and frowning only for your lips to turn up at the corners. 

 Tetta stares at you for a moment, gears turning in his head because it is truly alarming how quickly your mood can shift–makes you unpredictable, makes you dangerous. 

 But, fuck if that isn’t one of the reasons he’s drawn to you. 

 “Yeah, but you knew that from day one,” he sighs, allowing you to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar, then pull him back down on top of you. 

 There’s no tenderness in your kiss. Your fingers quickly push Tetta’s hair out of its normally perfect style, nails scratching his scalp hard enough to make him hiss and bite your lip even harder. You squeal and wriggle, and both of you can taste blood as his incisors dig into flesh, but you’re still grinding down against his leg, wetness leaking from your pussy and through your useless thong. Sometimes he likes to degrade you for making a mess on his slacks, but today he has better ideas in mind.

 First thing’s first: Tetta pulls your lacy panties down and throws them over his shoulder, shoving two fingers into your already drenched pussy while unbuckling his belt and pulling his cock free from his pants. He’s hot and hard, the vein that travels the length of his shaft popping under his skin, and you move to touch him–of course you do–but Tetta bats your hand away carelessly, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt and humming appreciatively at the way you’re already wet enough to make that squelching sound he loves so much. 

 “What was that you were saying about not being a whore?” he asks through a satisfied smile, tapping the spot inside of you that already has squirt pooling in the palm of his hand. His thumb rubbing over your clit has you bucking and sucking on your bruised lip, but once Tetta plants a hand right between your hips, pressing you into the bed, there isn’t much you can do other than take what he gives you.

 And, you will. You always do.

 “‘m’not a whore,” you manage out. Tetta really must have struck a nerve with that one if you keep denying it like this. 

 “No? Then why’re you spreading your legs like one, hm?” 

 He pulls his hand back and situates himself into a better position, grabbing your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist as he sinks into you. Tetta groans while watching you arch toward him, mouth opening in a silent cry as he slides into your soft pussy until he can’t anymore.

 “Why do you take my cock so well if you–” he gives a couple of thrusts, grunting quietly in time with his hips, “–if you’re not filthy?”

 You tug him down for another rough kiss, probably don’t have a rebuttal for that one, but Tetta isn’t done, just keeps muttering against your lips.

 “Is it just ‘cause it feels good, baby? You like the way I fuck you?”

 You nod dumbly, legs falling from around him so that you can open yourself wider for him, and Tetta takes it as an invitation to fuck harder and faster until he sits back on his heels–still has his fucking dress shoes on–and pulls you up to meet his hips.

 At this angle he has a perfect view of your pussy and the way it just keeps sucking him in. Your cute little hole flutters and stretches, cream dripping from it and coating his cock, and your neglected clit is so puffy with arousal, sensitive enough to make you moan his name when he flicks it gently. 

 “Bet you’d let anyone slut you out like this,” his tone comes out mocking, making his own blood boil at the idea of another man touching you. "Take any cock offered just to feel full. That’s what it is, right? You’ve told me before–fill me up, Tetta,” he mimics your voice, “Want me to stretch this pussy out, leave you all fucked out and swollen for whoever’s next.”

 He’s pulling you onto his length mercilessly, eyes straying to your tits and how they bounce in the see-through top. You’re so fucking hot, so dirty and desperate and pathetic, and it’s Tetta who does this to you. It’s his cock you beg for, his cock you suck until you throw up, his cock your perfect cunt just keeps swallowing, fuck, fuck–

 He can talk down to you all he wants, make this all about you and your slutty pussy, but the truth is he’s just as bad, if not worse. Stoned off your scent, drunk off every orgasm he can pull from your writhing body. The way you pulse around his cock, squirting all over him, soaking the waistline of his slacks, all while panting his name over and over.

 Tetta lasts until he simply doesn’t want to anymore, until something else catches his eye, and then he’s fucking into you with enough force to make you dig your nails into his forearms. He knows you’re probably feeling raw, his cock stretching you uncomfortably now, so when he feels that burning in his gut, balls drawing up tight, he pulls out and uses two fingers to hold your folds open, exposing your loosened hole as he strokes himself to completion.

 Strings of white decorate your cunt like a god damn work of art, some dripping from your lips, some from the hole Tetta was aiming for. So pretty pushing it out, moaning at the sensation of his cum all over your sloppy pussy. Little fucking slut, you’re just a–

 Leaning forward, Tetta graces you with another kiss, this one filled with bliss and fatigue. You don’t even notice the way he reaches for his bedside table, fingers closing around the grip of his gun before he leans back again.

 It takes you a couple seconds to realize what he’s holding, all fuck drunk and stupid, but as soon as you recognize it, a breath of air leaves your lungs.

 “W–what’s that for?” you ask, eyes darting from the gun to Tetta’s face over and over again. You've seen him carry before, obviously, watched him shoot people right between the eyes, but typically when you're alone with Tetta and his weapon of choice, it's because he's teaching you to shoot or maybe showing off a new piece in an attempt to get you hot and bothered (which works like a charm every time). 

 This time is different, though, and you can feel it–the shift in the atmosphere, the prickling sensation at the back of your neck. You start to close your legs, probably want to move away from him or at least get into a less vulnerable position, but that would ruin everything, now wouldn’t it?

 Tetta doesn’t answer your question, just pushes your knees apart and counters with one of his own: “You’d do anything for me, right?”

 A grin slowly spreads across his face as you swallow thickly, eyes wider than before, and he knows your post-orgasm high is gone now. 

 “Yeah,” you nod, but he can still see the fear in your stare. 

 “Relax, baby,” he coos, voice going soft as he uses the barrel of his gun to trace the curve of your calf. “It’s not like I’m gonna shoot you or anything.” Yet.

 It’s playing in his mind, though, the way this could all end. Would he be relieved or regretful? Are you someone he’d murder then think about for years to come, or would he be able to forget about you?

 Strong hormone releases always leave Tetta feeling a little unsteady, a little unhinged. Anything could happen. It’s why more often than not tells you to get in the shower after you fuck. Leave him alone so he can get his thoughts back in order.

 But, tonight he doesn’t want you leaving him. He wants to keep you close, remind you just who it is you’ve involved yourself with, and he thinks a good way to cover both those bases is by watching you cry while he fucks you with his gun.

 Perfectly reasonable.

 “Promise I’ll be gentle,” he says, not sure if he’s telling the truth. The way you tremble makes him shiver, but that’s all you do. You don’t try to argue or fight, just gasp when you feel cold metal against your folds. 

 “S–safety’s on?” you ask, and fuck, you’re really going to let him do this without complaint. It brings up the question of pleasure versus curiosity. Just what is it that makes you think something this twisted is okay?

 Tetta checks and finds that the safety definitely is not on, but considering he’s undecided on whether or not he wants to rid himself of you, he simply lies, “Of course it’s on.”

 “Okay, just… Gentle.”

 “I promised I would be,” he reminds you, parting your folds then teasing your entrance with the barrel before carefully pushing forward.

 You let out a little noise of discomfort, squeezing your eyes shut while spreading your legs wider as if that’ll help any. Tetta gives a few very shallow thrusts, eyeing the glossy sheen you’ve already left, and he wonders if this will ruin his gun. He has others, but… could be another reason to kill you.

 It’s the perfect time, honestly. And, doing it in such a depraved way would just be the cherry on top. He can easily imagine pulling the trigger, watching a bullet tear through some other part of your body–it all depends on the angle, really–and if the first shot doesn’t kill you, he can just keep trying. 

 What would his men think? Obviously, Tetta wouldn’t be the one to clean this up. That’s below him. Hanma would probably laugh, sick fuck that he is. Hakkai might get woozy. Takemichi would more than likely tear up at the sight. 

 But why, Kisaki? they’d ask. We thought you liked her.

 He does. That’s the entire fucking problem.

 Tetta pushes into you a little further, transfixed by the way you open up for cold metal the same way you open up for cock, and even though he just came, his dick twitches at the sight. 

 You sit up on your elbows, looking down at yourself and gasping like you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Honestly, Tetta can’t fully grasp it either. He’s got his loaded gun stuffed snug in your sopping cunt. All it would take is for him to pull back on the trigger. 

 “Can you… Can you take a video of it?” 

 Tetta nearly gets whiplash from the way his head shoots up, eyes wide in surprise even though he shouldn’t be shocked. You’ve more or less gotten off to the image of him killing people. Why wouldn’t you be into gunplay? Especially when you’re not smart enough to make sure you're actually safe because you’re not. You are so far from safe, in fact, it’s making Tetta’s hand shake. 

 All he does is slip his phone from his pocket, unlocking it then tapping on the camera icon. He makes sure to get a good shot of your face first, your big blinks and dumbstruck expression, lingering on the way you lick your lips before you fall back onto the mattress and sigh.

 From there, Tetta moves his phone down your body, eventually stopping where he needs to and focusing the lens on your pussy. You take more and more of the sleek barrel with every thrust, abused cunt opening up for the new intrusion as if it belongs there.

 Maybe it does. Maybe this is the culmination of everything. It’s fitting, he thinks, might even be the way a freak like you wants to go out. Maybe he’d actually be doing you a favor. If he ends up casting you away like all the other women, you could end up in worse hands than his. Tetta has been described as heartless many times, but he’s never hurt you out of cruelty, and he’s always, always cared about your pleasure (and your pain). The same can't be said for others in the same line of business. 

 “That feel good, baby?” Tetta speaks for the first time in minutes. “Like getting fucked by my gun?”

 You only nod, jaw having dropped open some time ago. 

 “Does it fill this pussy up the way you like?”

 “Mm, it’s different,” you admit in a breathy voice. “Not comfortable exactly, but–oh–sexy.”

 You’ve toed a dangerous line ever since Tetta met you, pressing your luck by pressing his buttons, and maybe he’s finally had enough.

 He’s just… never had someone idolize him the way you do, someone who trusts him like this, willing to put themselves at his mercy.

 “You know how easy it’d be to kill you right now?” he tests, watching to see if your expression turns fearful again.

 But, all you do is answer, “I know,” then lift your hips to take the gun deeper. 

 Tetta ends the video there, too worked up to hold the phone straight anymore. His finger is on the trigger ready to pull, just a quick motion and it’ll all be over, no more wrestling with his feelings, no more making himself sick over the idea of someone hurting you. He could end it all right here, right now. 

 Instead, when he opens his mouth, he asks you, “Think you can come like this?” and as if to encourage you, he toys with your clit. 

 “I–I think so. If you keep going slow and playing with–fuck, yes–”

 You don’t have to finish the thought. Tetta pauses to wet two fingers then uses them both to rub your clit, sometimes sliding down to gently massage the tender flesh stretched around his gun. You’re still dripping with his cum, but new slick is also leaking from you, and he almost laughs because it’s so fucking absurd to be so turned on by this, but here you are, legs shaking, hips rocking, pleas falling from your quivering lips as Tetta flicks your clit and pumps the weapon in and out of your cunt, gradually picking up speed as you begin to coil in on yourself, hitting that euphoric peak and then falling off of it.

 You moan a chorus–oh, god, oh, god, oh, god–while Tetta fucks you through it, his own thought process similarly stunted and rhythmic.

 Pull the trigger, pull the trigger, pull it.

 His jaw slides, teeth bared as he stares down at your splayed body, and this is it. This is perfect. This is the time–

 He can’t. 

 Tetta cannot bring himself to do it, and for that, he’s disappointed in himself. 

 Sinking further onto his knees and into the bedding, Tetta sighs and pulls the gun from you, reaching up to push hair back from where it’s fallen into his face. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why can’t he just–

 Footsteps approach the bedroom, gait unfamiliar, and Tetta doesn’t think twice before aiming and shooting as soon as he can see a vague outline of them.

 “Fuck–shit–you fucking shot me!” 

 Just Hanma. Probably drunk judging by his clumsy steps. Unfortunate, but– “Should’ve told me you were coming,” Tetta shrugs.

 “I texted you! Jesus Christ, ahh–”

 He stumbles into the room, dropping to the ground and clutching his arm to his chest.

 “You’re bleeding on my carpet,” Tetta tsks, finally moving from the bed and gesturing for you to close your legs.

 When he glances at your face, though, he sees one of those deer-in-the-headlights expressions, nothing but shock and fear and cluelessness.

 “What?” Tetta asks you.

 You gape at him for a second, looking at the gun still in his hand, then at Hanma still swearing, and then where he’d just been sitting.

 “Was that locked and fucking loaded this whole god damn time?”

 Tetta sucks his teeth and wipes the wet barrel on his pants while nodding. “Yeah, it was. I should probably teach you more about gun safety.”

 Your voice is shrill and a little irritating when you shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” rolling so that you’re sitting up on your knees now.

 Smirking, Tetta chuckles and steps over to you. You’re a mess, hair sticking up in the back, bra pulled down enough to show off pretty, pebbled nipples, thighs covered in your own arousal. 

 After setting his gun down, Tetta takes your face in both hands, stroking over your cheeks with calloused thumbs as he answers, “So much, baby. So, so much.”

 Hanma is still groaning in pain where he sits on the ground, but it’s easy enough to tune out as Tetta bends just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. You search his face for some kind of clue as to what the fuck is going on, but you won’t find anything there except for wide, adoring eyes and a half-deranged smile. 

  You’re stuck with him now. You don’t know it yet, but you’ll find out eventually. 

[animeomegas]

Pregnant!Omega!Sasuke Headcanons

Anon:  How about omega Sasuke being pregnant with an over protective mate?

@hakunamatatayqueen​:  Ooh ooh could I request some fluffy pregnant omega sasuke headcanons?👀 this baby deserves so much love and happiness omg pLz I love him so much- AND GOOD LUCK WITH UR WORK DARLING I’m in the same situation😔 so take your time and no worries🖤

(Sasuke is so popular on this blog haha! I thought I would combine these requests because they work so well together <3 Also, yes, I just want good things for Sasuke. He was screwed over so much throughout his life and I just want to make it better :( Thank you for the well wishes on my work, it’s not been fun to start university during a pandemic haha. I still haven’t met any classmates or teachers in person rip. I hope your work goes well too! I decided to write this because I already had a lot written already haha. Enjoy!!)

Warnings: Mpreg, swearing, mental breakdown, morning sickness mention ((and non-graphic description) I talked around it because I’m emetophobic haha)

There is very little in the world that Sasuke hates more than being pregnant. 

He doesn’t just find the experience unpleasant, he hates it.

He feels trapped and uncomfortable all the time.

Too hot and too cold constantly.

He feels weak and useless and at the mercy of his instincts.

And that’s not even mentioning the horrible morning sickness, paranoia and mood swings.

He wanted to revive his family so badly, but the realities had him regretting his decision more than once, even if he was happy in the end.

This is the time in Sasuke’s life that he needs the support of his alpha the most.

Sasuke will refuse to get pregnant a second time. No exceptions.

He would get sterilised as soon as was safe after he had given birth.

TRIMESTER 1:

During his first trimester, Sasuke tries his hardest to carry on as normal. 

I cannot tell you how many times you have to stop him from training so he doesn’t hurt himself or your pup.

He was also miserable when he was banned from taking any more missions.

He’s pretty good about going to his doctor’s appointments though and has no problem going to them alone if you’re busy.

He suffers from morning sickness during this time. An omega’s morning sickness can be helped with the scent of their alpha, so you end up spending lots of time scenting him when he feels awful.

Sasuke doesn’t tell many people that he’s pregnant and doesn’t like other people cooing over him. You get permission but he’ll act like he doesn’t enjoy it.

Sasuke has a very strong nesting urge from day 1, and he never thinks his nest is good enough. He spends a lot of time buying new materials for his nest, rearranging things and scenting everything. You are very lucky that Sasuke was the sole inheritor of all the Uchiha wealth with how many nesting supplies he buys. 

You hovered uncomfortably outside the bathroom door, listening to your mate be violently ill in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t want you in there with him but your alpha was running in circles, desperate to help your mate somehow.

Eventually the sounds from the bathroom ceased. You waited for a moment before hesitantly knocking on the door. 

“Sasuke?” You called out. “Can I come in?”

You heard a grunt that you decided to take as a positive response.

Swinging open the door, you let out a sigh and a quiet whine. 

Sasuke was slouched on the floor, draped part way over the toilet. He looked pale and exhausted. 

“Oh, baby.” You sighed, moving towards his shivering form.

“Go away.” He grumbled, resting his head on his arms. “It’s gross.”

You ignored him, crouching down to sit on the floor and shifting to sit behind him. You sat flush against his back, wrapping your arms gently around his waist. You started to release a gentle scent to help him with the nausea.

Sasuke took a few deep breaths before slumping back against you.

You cradled him as gently as you could, wiping his hair back from his sweat soaked forehead. 

“Feeling better?” You whispered into his ear, rubbing soothing circles on his small baby bump. 

Sasuke hummed, eyes already closed, nuzzling into your neck. He lifted a hand and latched onto the sleeve of your shirt, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. 

You looked down at his exhausted form, clinging onto you in ways he would never normally let himself do, and you made a decision. 

“I’m not going into work today.” 

Sasuke’s eyes flew open at your words.

“No.” He scoffed. “You don’t need to stay here for me, I’m absolutely fine.”

He started trying to get up but you pulled him back against you, raising an eyebrow at his words.

“I want to stay, Sasuke.” You scented him some more, just in case any nausea still remained. “Think you can move back to bed?”

Sasuke hesitated. You waited patiently for his answer, rubbing small circles on his hips.

“I want...” Sasuke started, blushing. “I think I want to go to my nest.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, omega. Do you want me to join you?”

“Please.” He whispered, embarrassed. 

You helped him stand up from the bathroom floor and went to spend the rest of the day cuddled up in his nest.

TRIMESTER 2:

During trimester 2 Sasuke begins to show. He doesn’t get many stretch marks because his stomach is pretty small (but still healthy).

His mood swings start to get pretty extreme from this point.

Sasuke is very clingy and he gets frustrated when you have to leave him for too long. When you do leave him he gets cold or angry and always kicks you out of his nest for a day.

Sasuke starts to leave the house less and less in his second trimester. This is for many reasons. Firstly, he hates the attention he gets and doesn’t want to risk running into anyone he knows. He just doesn’t want to deal with it. Secondly, he gets a little paranoid about someone hurting his pup. You’re not really sure when those feelings start because he keeps them to himself, but when you find out you’re very worried.

To deal with it, you convince him to go on walks and dates with you outside the house. With you there, his anxiety is lessened, and it helps him cope with the paranoia.

Sasuke starts to develop cravings during this period. No one is surprised that he now wants tomatoes for every meal and snack. Every market day, you bring a huge bag and just clear out every tomato there. Sasuke refuses to cook when he’s pregnant so you end up cutting so many tomatoes over the duration of his pregnancy. 

Finally, during his second trimester, Sasuke starts to be satisfied with his nest. And then subsequently spends every moment he can buried inside it. His nest is his safe space and putting him in there is a fool proof strategy to calm him down or ease discomfort.

You sat with Sasuke in his nest, watching him fuss over some pillows in the corner. He was wearing an oversized shirt, but you could still see his pregnant tummy pressing against the fabric when he moved in a certain way. You couldn’t resist.

Leaning over to him, you pushed up his shirt and uncovered his bump. You nuzzled into his stomach, pressing kisses into his skin as you went. You giggled against him when he froze.

Sasuke stiffened and then pushed your face away firmly. You fell backwards gently, knocking over a blanket that Sasuke had pinned to the wall. You both looked at each other in silence for a moment before Sasuke huffed in displeasure.

“You ruin everything in here, I don’t know why I let you in.” He growled, moving over to that corner to try and fix it. 

You looked at him, playfully betrayed.

“You pushed me!”

“Because you deserved it, idiot.” Sasuke scoffed.

You pouted at him in reply, watching as he easily reattached the blanket.

“Are you mad at me?” You fake whined, opening your arms out for a hug.

“Tch,” He blushed, accepting your embrace. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” You crooned, nuzzling him furiously. Sasuke accepted the affection with no complaint. He must be more tired than you thought.

You both dozed peacefully in each others embrace, basking in the comfort of Sasuke’s nest and the pleasant mingling of your scents.

Until Sasuke swore suddenly, pulling himself out of your arms and scaring you half to death. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You panicked, hands flailing in an attempt to figure out what was wrong with him. 

“Foot cramp.” Sasuke grunted between clenched teeth, hands starting to massage at his foot awkwardly. He couldn’t reach comfortably around his bump. 

“Here, let me.” You quickly moved to sit at his feet, gently massaging while Sasuke let out pained hisses. You kept going until Sasuke had fully relaxed back into the pillows of his nest. 

“Fucking foot cramps.” Sasuke sighed, pulling you back towards him, and trying to position you both back into your original position. Scarcely a few moments had passed before Sasuke groaned again. 

“Now they decides to wake up.” He grumbles, shifting to lift up his shirt.

You watched in awe as your pup began to kick. 

“This never gets old.” You whispered. “I can’t believe that’s our pup in there.”

“I wish they’d let me sleep.” Sasuke grumbled, a fond smile on his face nevertheless. 

“Get comfortable and I’ll try to soothe the pup. Try to get some sleep, omega, you deserve it.”

TRIMESTER 3:

This is where Sasuke’s mental state starts to decline. 

He has a very strong flight reflex when he gets overwhelmed, but obviously he can’t run away from being pregnant, so this just makes him more distressed. 

Sasuke is a very light sleeper generally, and being pregnant means he is rarely comfortable enough to sleep properly, and sleep deprivation makes everything worse.

Sasuke ends up having so many breakdowns that he needs someone with him at all times to make sure he won’t accidentally hurt himself or the pup when he’s not in a good headspace.

Sasuke ends up being induced early to end the severe mental strain he is under.

You watched sadly as Sasuke sobbed pitifully on your bed. You had tried to help, but he threw a fit when you tried to touch him. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” He sobbed. “I can’t-I can’t sleep, I’m too hot, everything hurts, I’m useless!” His hands started to shake.

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” You rushed over to him. “You’re okay, we’ll make it okay.”

“I want to get them out!” His hands started to twitch.

You intervened immediately, shifting his hands away from his stomach, just in case. Sasuke started to sob into your arms.

“Shh, omega.” You scented him, desperate to calm him down. You felt so powerless. “Do you want to come with me to your nest? Would that help?”

Sasuke shook his head desperately. “Too hot.”

You had an idea. 

“A bath then? A nice cool one. I’ll join you and wash your hair for you, yes?”

Sasuke didn’t respond, but you made the decision for him.

Ten minutes later, you were lowering him into a cool bath, and climbing in behind him. Sasuke slumped against you, exhausted after his breakdown. You welcomed him into your embrace, running cool fingers up and down his arms.

“Better?” You whispered.

“Yeah.” He croaked back. “Sorry.”

“S’alright, my love. Just relax.”

You tenderly washed his hair for him, careful to keep shampoo out of his eyes. You smiled when Sasuke started to purr as you massaged his head, relieved that he was feeling better.

You then wiped him down with a cool flannel. When Sasuke began to shiver, you pulled the plug and helped him out of the bath. You dried his hair for him and fetched him an oversized shirt to wear. It was when you were entering back into the room that you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, I totally forgot.” You leant down and pulled a long, thin pillow out from under your bed. “I bought this today.” You held it up for him to see. “It’s supposed to help you sleep when you’re pregnant.”

Sasuke took the pillow. 

“How does it work?”

You laid him down and helped position the pillow, making sure to wrap it under his bump to support him. When you were done, it was immediately obvious that Sasuke was comfortable. He went boneless against the pillow, eyes already drooping, the dark circles under his eyes suddenly more apparent.

You slid into bed beside him, careful not to crowd and overheat him. Instead, you took his hand in yours, rubbing the back with your thumb.

“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.” You began. “See if they can induce you early.”

“’kay.” He replied, half-asleep.

You pressed a gentle kiss against his mating mark.

“Sleep tight, my omega.”

[hyeokis]

words doesn’t matter | gojo satoru

genre; bittersweet, angst with a happy ending. occasional fluff.

gender neutral.

warnings; mention of blood and vomit.

owner's note; an oomf from twitter requested this ^^ feedbacks wud be very much appreciated

y/n never understood their feelings for gojo satoru. they're best friends, they had been for the longest time. you see, it's not easy for gojo satoru to have loyal friends who could tolerate him. they're always saying, "oh he's too cocky", and "he's a brat!". y/n however, finds his teasing and self confidence rather amusing. gojo satoru's little antics such as poking their cheeks and saying "i'm the best!" are what made y/n stuck around.

being friends for so long, y/n thought their feelings for gojo was platonic. surely it's normal for a friend to stare at their friend's eyes a second longer right? gojo's eyes are a pretty shade of blue; or shall i say shades of blue. y/n could see an entire ocean in his eyes, there's no need to search up pacific ocean on google. who wouldn't want to stare at those eyes of his? y/n loves how the sun makes his eyes glow and the way his pink lips curve when he smiles. honestly, they love every single little detail about gojo satoru that to others, it's odd.

it wasn't until they started coughing up flowers when y/n realized just how whipped and in love they were for their best friend.

y/n remembers the day they found out about their hanahaki disease like yesterday; how they coughed up flowers on their apartment floor after a phone call with gojo. they looked up their bizarre disease due to their fear of operation. 

hanahaki disease, a disease where patient will suffer from coughing up flowers due to unrequited love. the only cure being the loved one reciprocating their feelings.

despite the bitter aftertaste in y/n’s throat everytime they cough up flowers or how there would be blood mixed with the pretty violet flowers, it’s not the physical pain that hurts them the most. it’s how the hanahaki disease reminds them of the fact that gojo satoru does not love them back; probably never will.

gojo’s hair looks magical under the moonlight. the man lays on a king-sized bed, his hair sprawled on a pillow. moonlight seeps in through the sliding door, being the only source of light in the hotel room. being the most powerful sorcerer; he’s always travelling for work hence why time spent with y/n are always valued by him. 

“i missed you”, y/n says against the phone, their hand holding onto the phone tightly.

gojo’s heart skips a beat. he clears his throat and hums against the phone, “who wouldn’t?”. what he means to say is, “i miss you too”, but the words couldn’t seem to come out. he covers the receiver on the hotel phone before letting out a sigh then pulls his hand away.

the two talk for hours, enjoying each other’s company. y/n glances at a photo frame on their nightstand, smiling at the picture of them and gojo together. they could feel their throat growing uncomfortable, but they pushed the sensation away in order to talk to the white haired man.

“the moon looks beautiful tonight”, gojo says, looking out at the balcony. the moon looks exceptionally bright tonight, as if to mirror the calmness in his heart.

what he means to say is, “i love you”, but too bad for gojo, his best friend didn’t quite get that.

y/n on the other line hums, “yeah. so bright, i love it”, they say, fingers fiddling around with the telephone chord, “you sound sleepy, satoru. you should go to sleep”. 

“yeah, i really should”, gojo mutters, fluttering his eyes close. he rolls to his side, grunting lightly when he feels the emptiness of the other side. that’s when the man starts imagining having y/n by his side.

“i’ll end the call t-”

“no”, gojo answers, his eyes feeling even heavier now. “keep talking, it’s okay. you can put it down when i fall asleep”.

so y/n stays on the line, talking about how their day went as gojo listens intently. slowly but surely, his exhaustion fades away at the sound of y/n’s voice, as though their voice is his antidote. he suddenly forgets the feeling of loneliness he felt just a few minutes ago.

approximately five months after, gojo and y/n are sitting on his rooftop. y/n’s hanahaki disease have gotten worse now, but they successfully managed to hide it from gojo.

“i can’t believe you had to move”, y/n sighs, eyes still fixed up on the sky above. the clouds move in a hypnotizing way, sure to calm people down but it’s different for y/n. the uneasy feeling in their heart just won’t go.

“yeah, i’m far away from you now.”, gojo mutters, pulling y/n closer towards his body. 

his words are genuine, and his vulnerability is practically spilling out from his body. there’s no hesitance in his movements, since gojo had decided that it’s now or never. he either tells his feelings now or he might never get to tell them ever, due to his crazy schedule.

y/n rests their head on gojo’s shoulder, their muscles instantly loosening. they feel safe in gojo’s arms and it’s not because of the strength the man has; it’s a matter of trust. y/n would go as far as trusting gojo with their life; and it hurts how gojo probably doesn’t feel the same. 

gojo looks down at y/n’s face, his lips itching to meet theirs. feeling gojo’s gaze on theirs, y/n looks up to see gojo staring right down at them. driven by the tension surrounding them, gojo is quick to pull his blindfold down, revealing his ice blue eyes. 

“satoru? are you o-”, y/n is cut off by a pair of warm lips meeting theirs and gojo wrapping his strong arms around their figure.

the pair’s lips move in sync, and so does their body. at that very moment y/n understands what it means by how sometimes words doesn’t matter; for gojo’s actions explains how he feels more than his words ever could. 

[evilzoldyck]

Fiancée

part II

Suppressing down a burdensome sigh, you  looked back at the establishment who regretfully informed you that you were not able to match the prerequisites that the job description required. You knew all too well the insinuation of that statement, coming from a zero educational background and a rather low income class, the echelon of the societal hierarchy was brutal in your pursuit of a second occupation. Instead of quality, values and work ethic, they chose to look at the brands of your shoes and your status in this highly polarised civil structure.

Perusing through the town for any opportunity you could sought out until your heels formed blisters was a normal part of your everyday life, this day though, you figured you could take a short break by resting underneath a shady spot at the bustling market. While you were rubbing on your sore calves you can't help but overhear the excited prattle of a group of girls nearby. They all adorned leathered purses and scintillating jewelleries; young, beautiful and free of any burdens and responsibilities. 

“Have you heard? The Zoldyck family are hosting a formal competition for the chance to win the noble position of becoming a wife to one of their son!” The blonde haired woman reported with wide eyes. 

“Really? That family of assassins are holding a public trial?” Another one with carefully manicured acrylic nails spoke up. “You’d think as an assassin they’d be less privy about this.” 

“That’s not all, I heard that the winner also gets ten billion jennys,” the last one stated. “The Zoldycks are always ostentatious as ever, probably a marketing strategy to lure more girls in to participate.”

“Who cares about some jennys. I’d want to see the groom in question and if he’s really as tall, dark and handsome rumours made him out to be. If I hadn't been engaged, I'd try it out in a heartbeat.”

The blonde woman scoffed and retorted back, “good luck with that, I heard there’s over a hundred girls coming in from all over the world intending on participating already, and that’s just the numbers on the first day. Who knows how many will actually end up in three days time when the trial officially begins.” The group of girls wandered away until you couldn't hear their idle chats anymore, but their conversation still replayed over your mind like a broken record player. 

Ten billion jennys? In three days time? Those numbers alone made you heart skip a beat. There was a strong urge for you to look further into this for a mere moment before you scolded yourself mentally afterwards. There was no reason for you to get involved with someone as infamous as the Zoldycks. ‘The costs far outweigh the benefits,’ you told yourself. Propping yourself back up to your feet, you began to head home once the sun sets beyond the horizon. 

“Mother?” you called out once you stepped inside the shabby hole in a wall restaurant you ran with her. The candle lights all but one had been melted down, making it hard for you to see through the small, dark space. Once you turned around the corner and into the small kitchen room you spotted her cleaning up after a rather large spill which looked like porridge from the stone pot. “Mother what are you doing? You know you’re not allowed to look after heavy tasks,” you reprimanded, guiding her up back to her feet and wiped off the spoiled food from her hands with a nearby towel.

“It’s fine, just a little accident is all.” she waved you off as you continued to clean her hands where you spotted a rather large bruise on her along her inner arms.

“What happened?” you demanded in bewilderment. “Did that bastard come here today? Did he do this to you?” your series of questions did nothing more than to drive her away from you, but the thought of that filthy loan shark landing a hand on your mother made your blood boil and hands shake until you couldn't see anything else. “I’m going to kill him the next time I see him.”

“Oh hush, there’s no need for that,” your mother dismissed as if it was a trivial matter. “I’ll just clean this up and head on to bed-” you stopped her from bending back down to clean up after the mess and insisted that you do it yourself as you directed her back into her bedroom upstairs. Supporting her weight all the way up the stairs you assisted in preparing her bed and tucking her in. 

“You’re such a good kid,” she suddenly cooed, bringing up her frail and roughened hands from labour comfortingly up to your cheek. You held onto it and smiled down at her softly in response. 

“How did the interview go? Did you get accepted?” Once your smile disappeared into a disappointed frown she immediately soothed you. “Opportunities will come and go, don’t fret about it, darling. You’ll get it next time.” Though you nodded along with her words with a small beam, you knew you couldn't survive on optimism for much longer. 

“Good night,” you kissed down on her temple and blew away the fire flickering beside her bedside table before closing the door. Though it may sound impossibly crazy and foolishly dangerous, you knew where you had to go in a few days. Though the chance of you winning may be less than one percent, you would take any chance you had in order for you both to escape the life you currently had. 

The next two days went by in a blur, monotonous and grey as ever, and when you finally arrived onto the grounds of the Kukuroo mountain on the third day have the reality finally knocked you into your senses. Around five hundred girls filling your very peripheral visions stood and crowded in front of the ill-famed gate. Their mere chatter mass assembled together sounded like a roar, intimidating you by the sheer size of the sound of your competitors. Nevertheless, with a determined spirit, you filled in with the massive crowd around you. 

Suddenly, the noise all but halted once an old, feeble looking man made an appearance before the participants, smiling joyfully as if he knew something you didn’t. “Welcome ladies to the first day of the public trial on behalf of the Zoldyck family,” he greeted mirthfully. “We have expected a big turnout and for that we are more than grateful for. Therefore, this morning and the next marks the first preliminary task.” 

“Without further ado, each of you will have one chance to open the Testing Gate, which all of you must know that the first panel weighs around two tonnes and the ones after weighs twice as more as before, you are free to choose which panel to open. If you fail in opening the gate within the first five minutes I am afraid you are immediately disqualified from the competition. There is no need to label numbers as we expect them to go down drastically, I will monitor the first task for the time being and to all of you, I wish you the best of luck.”

There was an unnerving glances shared with each other by the girls, anxious on how to overcome the first issue with their high end shoes and neatly done hair and makeup. Of course, the Zoldycks won’t be looking at appearance to fit the mold, rather it was strength that they were seeking for. You cursed at yourself for not realising it soon enough too, wearing the nicest clothes you had in your closet and even going as far as spraying a bit of your mother’s perfume.

As the time goes by, the numbers slowly decreased with each failure. Some even left without trying, those who went undercover as a news reporter, a media freelancer hoping to snap a quick picture and those who thought they didn’t bear a chance. So far there were only five who managed to open the gate with one or two choosing the heavier panels. Once it was decided that it was your turn, the sky had already turned dark with the moon and the stars hung high above the skies.

Narrowing your eyes in front of two tonne door, you began to lean all your weight and force into pushing it open. There were sweats beading up to your forehead already as you continued to push on forward. “One minute,” the man stated. The minutes turned into seconds and so far no progress has been made. Gritting your teeth you kept your force constant hoping that you could manage to get a crack soon. 

“Four minutes.” Those very words alarmed you, making you lose focus for a mere moment. Though as quick as it came, you fortunately caught yourself, instead you drowned out the crowd behind you, along with time, sound and your senses and the elements of the world. Carrying that energy you had, you honed in on pushing your momentum forward. Suddenly a gap shifted, making you focus on not losing that velocity.

The older gentleman was counting down the last twenty seconds but you couldn't hear him, the ladies in the back watched in awe as you were the first one in a while to make such progress in the last few hours. When the crack widened to a space that you deemed was enough to slip your body through momentarily before the door swung back and crushed your bones, you managed to squeeze inside within the very last second.

Gasping tremendously for air from the overexertion of your strength, you looked around to find yourself on the other side in a quiet, shrouded forests along with the other girls who made it through before you. Once they've acknowledged your presence, they were quick to assess you head to toe with their sharp eyes. 

Of course, you couldn't forget that this was a competition.There was thick tension in the air between you all knowing that these people did not view you as anything but a rival. Taking your spot wordlessly on a tree stump, you waited for the first task to finish with the others and that meant waiting all night and day until each girl has had her turn on the gates.

This waiting game continued on until the next late afternoon when the sun was about to set again. There was now a total of fifty three of you waiting on the other side, each anxious and tired as every second passes. Suddenly, a pair of finely dressed men arrived bearing a stone faced expressions while carrying finely ornate candlestick to light the way. 

“Congratulations on passing the preliminary round. We now continue on with the trial by heading to the estate. You'll do your best job to keep up with us.” Without any further questions, they swiftly turned around and headed into the direction to the top of the mountain. It took you all a second to process what they said before you all followed and began your long trek uphill.

You were no stranger to walking vast distances but as you were currently running without sleep or food it made it quite strenuous for your journey up ahead. Once you've arrived, you’re greeted with the sight of a gargantuan house and in front, somebody waiting for you. 

“These are the ones who passed?” a woman dressed in a Victorian attire with a mechanical visor implored with a testy tone. 

“Yes Madame, should we escort them to their quarters?” One of the worker asked. The lady raised her hand in objection whilst keeping a steady view on all fifty three of you. 

“No need, I shall take them from here, you may be excused.” Without another word they bowed respectfully and left. “You all are here because you wish to make space for yourself in this family. Before you can idly daydream of such foolish fantasies, I will be here to test you all. You will be subjected to many trials, as many as I deem necessary, it will take days, months or even years but the trial will not end until I am satisfied that one of you is worthy enough. Should you break, cry, slip, scream, fall- should you show any sign of weakness during these times you are immediately disqualified.”

“Those of you who are not prepared for such endeavours, I advise you to head back now,” she stated, waiting for anyone to back out of the competition and when no one did, she narrowed her eyes further. “Very well then, follow me.”

There was an insinuation in her voice that tells you no matter what any of you will achieve you may never be deemed worth enough to earn a place in the family. Following the lady of the house dutifully she showed you all to a large room where fifty three futons are laid out in perfect symmetry on the floor along with a concave wood with a stick attached on the middle of the back and a pair of small bowls, one filled with rice and the other with cherry blossom petals for each bed. 

“You shall all sleep here during your time in the competition, those items you see are crucial to your rest. Place the rice to your left and the petals to your right head. The sticks are to prop your head up while you sleep where you will not make a single movement or sound. We will monitor you all night while you do and if I such as find a grain of rice or a petal out of place from their bowls or even failing to keep your head upright by these sticks, you are finished from here on out.” She instructed and before she could add more, she sniffed and grimaced for a second. 

“Be ready by six in the morning, the showers are down the hall to the left.”

Once she left, everybody claimed their spots on the bed and you took yours near the end of the back where it was the quietest. The one next to you was searching for her bowl of petals and you spotted it beneath her futon, out of her line of sight. When you offered it to her with a small smile she snatched the wooden bowl from you and averted her gaze instantly. 

“You shouldn't be here,” she muttered, sinking in her blanket. 

“What?” You couldn't help but ask. 

She rolled her eyes and huffed out an air of annoyance, “you’re going to get yourself killed.” Propping her elbows up to level with you, she eyed you seriously, “you’re not a nen user. We could all sense that back on the gates. Everyone here is a user except for you and that testing gate was nothing compared to what’s going to come. You shouldn't be here, you won’t come out the same if you do.” 

You watched her carefully rest her head on the stick and shut her eyes. Silently you did the same and through the pain and stress of your neck from balancing your head perfectly upright should’ve bothered you, it didn't do as much as her words. Still, you're willing to put yourself through hell, there was no other choice and to back out now would defeat your purpose.

It was close to dawn, and though you were restless all throughout the night you fought the urge to move and stayed perfectly still. Once you woke up however, you saw ten less empty beds. Frowning a bit, you got up to put your bed away and wash yourself before the clock strikes six.

Forty three people now remain and once you have all assembled in the main room before the entrance, the lady from before along with two other butlers arrived. This time she formally introduced herself as Kikyo Zoldyck, the Madame of the house and family. They directed you all towards a large room where a bowl of rice and soup was already prepared for each one.

“You must all complete your breakfast with proper, courtly manners, anything less revolts me. That means you must at all times during the meal to not slouch or make a sound, sit on your heels and eat a grain of rice one at a time.” She ordered acerbically. 

You took a seat to the one nearest to you and waited for their signal for you to eat. Once it was given, you apprehensively picked up your chopsticks and ate a single grain and more or less swallowed as it was so small you could barely taste or chew it. Five minutes have not yet passed when suddenly a girl doubled over, spilling her food everywhere whilst retching into the floor. Everyone turned their heads over to her in horror as they realised what you have all been eating.

Poison.

The smell of bile filled the room as Kikyo fanned her face to waft the air away from her vicinity and gestured to the guards to take her away. The rest of the meal was unfortunate as you struggled to ignore the groans and nausea of the others who fell victim along with the putrid smell around you. Ignoring your innate instinct to reject the food you chose to focus on your mind over matter, no matter what they were going to do to you, it was not nearly as painful as seeing your mother suffer when you could do something about it. 

It was then that your body went on almost pilot mode as you could not recall having any more thoughts or memories of yourself subjected to various torture trials. The days increased into weeks and the number of girls that were here soon dropped like flies. The woman that you spoke to on your first day, she was gone too by the fourth night as you watched the now empty spot beside you as you went to sleep.

Every day was a routine of testing the limits of your strength. Every meal given was always laced with some poison, it has come to a point where you suppressed your urge to vomit so hard each day that now it had sit still in your stomach. 

The same could be made every time you are sent to the electrocution chamber down in the depths of the cold basement where you could spend the whole day being shocked in miscellaneous voltages by the workers who looked like they were enjoying it too much. Or when snow came in, they would strip you bare of your clothes and drench you all in cold water outside. The lashings were always held arbitrarily though, they would only stop until the markings started to show as Kikyo deemed the sight of a scarred back to be ghastly to gaze upon.

Then there were only three, this time however, the task you were assigned was definitely an odd one. Kikyo was known for her admiration of finer things in life such as traditional japanese and eurocentric arts, this task she requires you was to perform an intricate dance. Beauty and gracefulness came later in the part of the competition you guessed. 

Though the level of difficulty was just the same as the previous ones.There was an emphasis on how every movement from the slightest tip of your fingers could immediately expel you if you strayed from the original choreography. For days at night you practiced until your feet would give out or until you heard birds chirping at the sight of the first light of the day. 

When the day finally came to determine your performance you are finally escorted onto the Zoldyck estate, though only one participant must attend at a time and you settled with being the last. So when it was finally your turn, you arrived at a private room where there was a screen that divided you from your spectators. The room itself was beautiful, lit with red candles and carefully carved up wooden walls that tells infinite stories.

You could see before you that Kikyo was not alone this time, there was another sitting patiently beside her. Before you could pry more to try and make out the mysterious figure, Kikyo’s voice reverberated through behind the screen to instruct you to begin. You inhaled a small breath and blinked in shock momentarily. You hadn't noticed before but the floor was absolutely covered in small broken glasses. You knew better than to expect the least by this point.

Clearing your mind as you do with every single trial that you participated in, you stepped forward. You could faintly hear the sounds of small shards of glasses every time you moved as well as feeling the red liquid slowly pooling beneath your feet. Nevertheless, you began without a moment to waste. Twisting at every turn, sliding your feet across the floor while masking your emotions with a stone, cold exterior. Hanging to every last words of her instructions to follow the exact routine. 

You were halfway done with your performance when the other figure suddenly stood up and came closer to the divider. Though you presumed it was quite unusual, you continued on with your dance until the person swiftly cut the screen seemingly with his bare hands to reveal an expressionless, grim man with long midnight hair and as far as you can tell, endless deep eyes.

The strange man that emanated pure darkness stood before you uttered your name in a low breath. “That is your name?” you halted your routine once he had addressed you as you nodded politely in response, looking down out of respect. 

“A daughter of a mere commoner, you run a restaurant with your poor, ailing mother down on an unnamed street. You don’t come from an impressive background or lineage, nor martial training of any skills and your nen has yet to be awakened.” He stated matter of factly. You held your tongue for you feared that you would be the cause of your demise.

He stepped forward towards you, his bare feet coming on contact with the sharp glass and yet no blood came gushing out like yours did. “You know the ones before you, they were the exact opposite. They came in and used their nen skills to protect and form a barrier against their skin and yet you endured even without having basic nen training which I would find quite impossible until this very day.”

“I could sense you are determined, but your heart is set somewhere else,” he came in closer and Kikyo now stood up, her lips pursed disapprovingly. “It is not me that you desire, is it?” The man was impossibly close to you that you found it hard to catch your breath and answer promptly. Judging by the implication of his words, he must be the son of the Zoldyck family.

“No.” You answered truthfully, not knowing whether or not that was the smartest move. He let out a small hum before asking once again, “then why do you do it? Why do you subject yourself to such extreme affliction without any power? Why do you fight so hard just to live another day?” 

“There are those worth fighting for, for every horrible persecution you put me through I will continue to fight.” His demeaning words spark a gust of defiance within you. “And you're wrong, I am equipped with power, something far more greater that no other kind of nen could reach.”

Furrowing his eyes, he looked at you in disbelief, “you're misunderstood, emotions cannot give you strength, they are mere obstacles in life’s objectives. It makes you weak.”

“Emotions aren't weak, they make me stronger, love made me stronger.” Looking into his eyes you saw no trace of empathy within him, you’re not shocked to learn if this man knows no concept of it. “It’s what kept me standing here after all this time.”

He stood still for a quiet minute, silently staring you down with those cold, dead eyes. He raised his arms and for a moment you thought he would strike you down with it and immediately dispose of you for speaking out of turn towards him. Instead, you're startled to find yourself swept off of your feet and held firmly by him, relieving you of your pain while your droplets of blood fell languidly, making a subtle drop against the wooden floor and glass.

“Illumi! What are you doing?” Shrieked Kikyo, holding up her dress to run towards the both of you. 

“The trial ends here,” he responded absentmindedly. “I have found my fiancée.” 

“No! It's only been a month!” She refuted erratically “She is the weakest of the bunch, her luck will run out soon just give it more time! There are far others more deserving with noble titles and background. You are upsetting the order, she cannot take your place beside you, she is far lesser than-” A look from Illumi caused her to clamp her lips shut.

“The sole objective was to find the strongest one to take the place as my wife and strengthen the Zoldyck family, was it not mother?” he asked bluntly. When she didn't respond he continued, this time facing you as he spoke, “I have seen proficient nen-users crumble under the pressures of these tortures, imagine the strength that she possesses once her nen is awakened.” 

“There is no need to look any further then, send the others home.” Illumi finished and began to carry you away from the room and Kikyo who appeared as if she was about to have a meltdown. 

Once the heavy doors were closed behind you, you flinched once you heard her piercing screams that shook the manor as he gave you a small imitation of a smile all throughout the time. 

You did not know whether to let your heart soar as you won the indisputable prize that could set a proper life for you and your mother or shrivel for the future. You could not have imagined in your wildest dreams for the man you’re sent to be wed off to be one that personified death. Just being held by him shook your very core. His aura radiated nothing but darkness, you felt no light in it that you could almost choke from the tension. 

There was no telling that this man would ever show compassion, there was something that tells you days with him would be worse than what you've endured these past few weeks. Setting your gaze forwards you tensed as you looked upon a macabre painting ahead of you, ironically painting your future ahead. 

In sparing your life, you ultimately gave him yours in return, but he and all his family would be a fool if they think they could take your love away.