#Stockholm Syndrome tw

[missazura]

gurlie pop im not doing so good

[caroldantops]

Vanessa going so long without seeing fucked up shit after being stabbed that she doesn’t know how to handle it so she can easily rationalise hurting you, just a little, because you’ve been so accomodating and surely this one thing won’t hurt? (much)

oh. ohhhhh yeah. yeah.

(i made this turn dubcon/noncon-y with some abuse and stockholm syndrome um. yeah.)

in the same vein, vanessa feeling like you’re just too good for her everything feels too good with you, so she starts taking it out on you partially because she’s craving the adrenaline of fucked up shit but also because she thinks she needs to do something that will make you want to leave her so she asks less and less for consent for it as she gets rougher and rougher but you just won’t leave.

and it does something do her, the fact that you won’t leave. maybe you’re like her, needing to feel the pain and rollercoaster of emotions as she forces herself on you yet again, grabbing you with bruising touches and pounding into you until you ache.

you don’t know why you stay. well, no that’s a lie, you do know why. it’s just that every rational part of your brain is telling you to get the fuck out.

you love vanessa. every fucked up part of her. it’s not that you think that you deserve the abuse, but rather that you think she deserves to be able to chase that feeling she craves, take out her issues on you rather than doing something stupid, rather than becoming like afton….

you’re a self sacrificing idiot, maybe. but you love her. and you love the pain she gives you, the way she laughs as you cry underneath her, licking your tears from your face. the way her fingers leave bruises around your neck and stinging red marks across your face.

you love her, and you know she loves you. she loves you so much that she just has to hurt you.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Person A is an assassin android, built to be a perfect killer. Person B is their target, who is actually a god of life living in human guise for a chance to learn about humans. When Person A finds Person B impossible to kill, they kidnap them and hold them prisoner, studying Person B and trying to figure out a way to kill them, but due to the extended proximity to a life god, Person A starts to become human and struggle with emotions and things they’ve never felt before.

[whiskeysmulti]

.Whiskey. Reliving some of my Bleach days to try and wake up my muses again and the more I think about it, I vaguely recall the fandom being full of NoiNel, UlquiHime, and AiHina proshippers defending it and not even realizing the canon breakdown of those ships isn't romantic...it's stockholm syndrome. Anyway that's my 2 cents on it and I'm here just lurking at the moment. If I feel like writing later, I will. Catch me in DMs or Discord if you need anything.

[cowboy-anon]

CW: Cutting, implied neglect, self harm, knife mention, Stockholm Syndrome, pet whump, wound reveal

Thinking about how instead of a collar, Apple probably marked himself with Clay’s name on his body. He could’ve used a marker, but I like to imagine he wanted something more permanent. He uses a knife.

And he does it in the bathroom mirror, but maybe doing it that way, it ends up being cut into him backwards. At the very least, he can see it right when he looks in the mirror. A mark. Proof he’s Clay’s. Maybe he cuts it into his arm or his tummy. Or maybe, for the fun of it, he makes some shallow cuts on his collarbone or throat. It hurts, sure, but they’ll be more visible for sure. Bonus points if Benji is helping Apple with his wounds one night, and they peel off that gross bad bandaging and they see it… Something Apple did to himself, on purpose. Something permanent. Proof he’s Clay’s… even though Clay doesn’t even want him.

[comic-art-showcase]

Harley an Joker by Michael Pickard

Batober prompt: Trapped

DO NOT interact if you ship these two. DO NOT reblog/tag as ship!

[ragnarot]

REMINDER that jack can and WILL SNAP at a moment's notice . he doesn't care who you are , really . and he , as you could guess , doesn't feel any real shame towards that idea . he's done it many times before , and he will do it again . he is forcing hlökk to work alongside him against her will . and her strangles her for it , weakening her & belittling her into doing what he wants her to do : to bestow her power unto him , a process which a valkyrie offers up their divine soul unto a mortal to fuse them together . doing so forms a divine weapon capable of killing gods .

it's also why ... i find their later scenes ... kind of disturbing ? not only did jack strangle hlökk when she refused to work alongside him , HE SNUCK INTO HER ROOM BEFOREHAND & WAITED . so it was obviously premeditated on his behalf . he planned this out like a sick bastard .

i really don't like that the canonical material is making their relationship slightly more friendly . maybe it's JUST ME personally , but it really creeps me out . i think hlökk might be experiecing some stockholm syndrome . jack is abusing her . and i am not comfortable portraying it , really , as anything but abuse . she isn't his daughter figure . they are not friends . he only wants to use her powers to help him kill & toy with other people . i do not trust jack , and think again , he is using his supposed friendliness as a ploy .

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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[alphcapexpredator]

Always the Alpha [Intro]

[ ian bohen, male, he/him ] whatever you think you know about CLARENCE “RAZOR” LORENZ, the 47 year old, BISEXUAL, NEW COMER, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored WEREWOLF  is often described as STRATEGIC + AVARICIOUS but don’t let them fool you; they can also be WICKED + SADISTIC, which often has them regarded as the THE DIRTBAG they are a BUSINESS OWNER  at the COOL WATER’S INK but it’s also said they are a ALPHA within the BLOOD MOON PACK. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.  

BASICS

Full Name: Clarence “Razor” Lorenz

Age: 47

Birth: December 25th in Buffalo, New York

Gender/Pronouns: Male (he|him).

Species: Born Werewolf  

Affiliations: Blood Moon Pack (Alpha), Cool Water’s Ink (Owner)

Family: Clementine Lorenz (Mother, Deceased), Radzig Lorenz (father, deceased), Heaven Lorenz (sister, deceased), Theodore “Teddy” Lorenz (son, alive), Anastasia Lorenz (daughter, deceased), Kiera Lorenz (wife, alive)

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Ian Bohen

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color:  Dark Brown

Height: 5′7″

Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: N/A

BIOGRAPHY

Born to proud pure breed werewolves, Clarence---who was nickenamed Razor for his aggressive personality from a young age---was trained to become a first class werewolf. He depicted cruel and antisocial behavior since his birth, his mother sharing how even as he was born, Clarence didn’t cry, he’d screamed in rage. From then he was taught werewolf were the apex predator in the world they called home. He was trained to fight and to become a vicious leader that would carry on the Blood Moon Pack’s tradition. 

However, Clarence was the youngest of two and his older sister seemed to possess a natural skill at leadership. Seeing the budding competition, their parents did all they could to pin them against each other, believing it to be a productive environment for their offspring. 

He remembers the Rayne Pack from a young age. Although the Blood Moon Pack thought of them as less-refined werewolves, his father fancied their eldest daughter and had arranged for her to be his second wife. However, during a Hunt, Clarence’s father and mother were murdered by their prey and the Alphahood was passed to Clarence’s sister. 

He was able to control his rage and hunger for power for a year before it became too much for him. On the one year anniversary of their parents death, the Blood Moon Pack began a nomadic lifestyle. A few hours into their first trip, Clarence challenged his sister who was taken aback and tried to negotiate a way out of the challenge. She said she loved him and didn’t want to kill her little brother.... Which prompted Clarence to smile and agree that she couldn’t do it before using his claws to rip her throat open. That was the beginning of a new era of the Blood Moon Pack, which became progressively more radical than it used to be.

When the Rayne Alpha and his children came to him for help, Clarence agreed to help... So long as Rayne bent the knee to him. When he didn’t, Clarence challenged him to a duel to the death... Which he won. Afterwards, however, he still helped the Rayne pups have their revenge. After all, there was no better way to manipulate others than taking everything from them and then giving them exactly what they wanted.

Settling in Creation Peaks, Razor is looking to take over as the local pack and continue to set werewolf supremacy on stone. After all, a werewolf still in their two-digit age range still had a long life to live...

[purru]

Safer in the Dark

▷ Summary; They had banished the devil from his body, too bad he replaced its place

⚠️ content advisory: light stockholm syndrome, character with dubious morality

Fandom: original character (ttrpg)

Note #1: fill for day 8 of Whumptober - Back From The Dead | continuation of this fic, set right after his resurrection

He woke up from the dead with glacial resentment. When he noticed the handcuffs, he couldn’t tell when fury ended and grief began.

His murderer–no, savior, explained with great regret that he had to do it. Hicks had to kill Rook to separate his soul from the devil, there was no other way.

Patiently, his savior made it clear that they also destroyed the contract that binds him to the devil. He eventually learned that the process also made him lose a chunk of his arcane power. Lost in thought, Rook was quiet the whole time.

“What happened to you was not your fault. It's time to start over,” his savior finally said. There was a heavy lump in his throat. He slowly looked away, not wanting emotion to overtake him. He had to be grateful for what Hicks had done to save him. He had to. He convinced himself so. After all, Hicks was the first person who ever stood up for him.

“You have spent years under that devil’s thumb, unwillingly,” Rook heard his savior saying. “You are free now.”

The revenant tried his best to believe it.

---

Rook stood completely still when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. Gun to head, not unlike his first taste of death. His mind raced. Sir?

“Hands in the air,” barked his target. Rook quickly complied. Sir?

He frantically evoked the devil’s name in his head. Static. There was no familiar taunting laugh. Rook heard his target saying something out of anger but his ears were swimming.

Cold sweat began to form on his forehead. Rook was confused as to why he couldn’t smell sulfur, why his target wasn’t set ablaze yet.

And he was truly alone, he realized. Fear wormed further into his head, now that it's devoid of The Prince’s company.

It was way too late and he had to learn the hard way, but they were right. There’s a price for everything in life. He had regained his soul but lost his protector.

‎

Note #2: title is taken from the lyrics of this song

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: implied kidnapped reader, not proofread, yandere drabble, dark fic (ish), Stockholm syndrome implied

"You like it." König grinned up at you, seated on his knees. Though you couldn't see his face, not behind the ages old mask he wore, his squinted baby blue eyes showed his appreciation, his love, his devotion.

In his large hand was a grasped bundle of flowers, roses. Usually such an utterly basic flower, but these were different. Ish. The roots still attached, dirt clinging to the small veiny structures, almost helplessly withering away in his tight grasp. Bits of blood from the pricking of thorns against König's fingers. But he would never expose you to any danger, the thorns sloppily carved off with a knife, little indents of what was.

A breath of air - hesitance.

"I like it." You whisper, body shivering, cold. Covered only by a thin bedsheet, satin and white. König made a sloppy noise of delight, offering the flowers closer. Letting you get a scent of freedom. One he'd take at any given moment; a power he abused, simply because he could.

"Gut.. ja gut.." König purred praises as you sniffed the subtle scent. "Maybe next time, I will let go outside with me. Hm? You will like it, yes?"

Ignoring the tears that slipped out of your eyes with a rough pat to your head. You sniffled slightly, "Love you.."

Words he wanted to hear, words part of you felt. You did love this monster. Your monster and his flowers.

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Diluc x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Diluc’s need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.

MDNI.

Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*

—————————

“Just one kiss. Please, darling.”

“No-“

Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didn’t mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.

You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.

Diluc’s arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didn’t like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.

Today though, today was different. You didn’t mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.

Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.

Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your “stay” you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.

Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.

You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.

…Clearly your touch was not unwelcome.

Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.

You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.

You suddenly felt very nervous. Diluc’s blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.

A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.

Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.

You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Diluc’s mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.

What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.

You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.

“Diluc?” You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.

“Hot,” was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.

You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.

Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it have previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in. Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.

You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.

—————————

[cowboy-anon]

💝 for Benji, for both jimmy and clay

🔨 for Clay

Thank you for the ask! <3 Benji my beloved lol

Quick CW: Cursing, cutting mention, discussed punishment, implied neglect, implied successful escape, intimate whumper, knife mention, multiple whumpees, pet whump, Stockholm Syndrome, whipping mention

❤️‍🩹 Is there anything you wish your owner did more of?

Benji isn’t amused by this question at all. They say, disgusted, “Clay could leave me alone more. He treats me like a prized pet a little too often. It’d be great if he’d just fuck off for a bit.”

They think then, and respond just a little calmer now, with an exhausted sigh, “Jimmy too. I get what he’s trying to do, make me feel welcome and all, but sometimes you just want a little space to feel… human, you know?”

🔨 Proper punishment is a mark of a good owner, is there a punishment your pet responds to best? Is there one you prefer?

Clay smiles almost sympathetically. “It doesn’t take much to make my dear Benji regret their actions. Whipping…” Clay smiles more. “They’re always calm and quiet after a whipping. But I don’t like ruining them like that, so viciously. So thoughtlessly. I prefer to cut them with a knife, so they have to look into my eyes and acknowledge what they did.” He sighs a bit. “But that hardly ever gets my point across.” As far as Apple, Clay rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Nothing makes him learn. He’s still obsessive and… fucking annoying. And I only ever ‘punish’ him when he’s getting on my last nerve, and then, I just do whatever I feel like. I’d much rather just get rid of him, but Benji likes him so… the best I can do is take my anger out on him.”

[saigoat]

Being tortured to the point of passing out cold, then in a haze as they regain consciousness, see they are cradled in the lap of their tormentor. Skin clammy and crawling as a bloody hand cards through greasy, limp hair. The unwanted tender touch would be etched in their memory for the rest of their life. In months of agony, it was the one solitary moment of softness. Some part of them wants more, some part loathes themselves for it.

[maxedes]

my whole twitter timeline is in shambles. ferrari mercedes & red bull fans have miraculously united. every other person is either threatening suicide or to burn some factory down. 443316 looking like they‘re about to cry. all of that only interrupted by fernando rolling in on on his fucking scooter & george stripping in the press conference. what is going on in the house of monza?

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

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