#possessivelover

(Totallyy not influenced due to me being on my period. No, my good writer.)

Yeah, sure, totally ;) Gotcha

Bloody Hell

Zamasu had always found mortals to be filthy, flawed creatures. Their bodies were weak, susceptible to disease, pain, and suffering. He had observed their pathetic ailments from a distance, never once imagining he would have to care for one.

But you… you were different.

He still didn’t understand why he tolerated you, why he let you stay by his side when all other mortals disgusted him. Perhaps it was because you weren’t like the others—less selfish, more patient. Or maybe he simply enjoyed your company, though he would never admit it.

But when he found you curled up in pain, your face pale, your body trembling, he felt… something unfamiliar. Concern.

"You’re unwell," he stated, kneeling beside you. "What afflicts you?"

You winced as another cramp hit you, groaning. "It’s… just my period, Zamasu. It happens every month. I’ll be fine."

He frowned. "A monthly affliction? How inefficient."

You managed a weak chuckle. "Yeah, tell me about it."

For the first time, Zamasu found himself at a loss. He was a god, above mortal suffering—how was he supposed to help?

"Do you require healing?" he asked, summoning his divine energy.

You shook your head. "It’s not something you can just fix. It’ll pass."

Zamasu hated that answer. He hated that he couldn’t take away your pain.

Still, he observed you, analyzed what little he knew of mortal comfort. Carefully, he summoned warm tea infused with calming herbs, conjured soft blankets, and placed a cooling cloth on your forehead.

"Rest," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You will not suffer alone."

Goku Black was not like Zamasu. He did not merely tolerate you—he claimed you. You were his, and anything that caused you pain was an insult to his divinity.

So when he discovered you curled up, struggling through your period, he was furious.

"Who dares to make you suffer?" he demanded, his aura flaring.

You blinked up at him, exhaustion in your eyes. "Uh… biology?"

His rage simmered, replaced with confusion. "Explain."

You sighed. "It’s just something that happens to women, Black. It’s annoying, but it’s normal."

"Normal?" he scoffed. "You think I will allow my queen to be in pain every month because of some pathetic mortal weakness?"

Before you could protest, he teleported away. Minutes later, he returned, arms full of various remedies—herbal teas, heating pads, even chocolates.

You stared. "Where did you—?"

"I took them," he said simply.

"You stole them?"

He smirked. "They were unworthy of keeping such gifts when you are in need."

You sighed but couldn’t help the small smile forming. He may have been merciless, but when it came to you, he was devoted.

Settling beside you, he pulled you into his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "Rest, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Your pain will pass, and I will be here until it does."

And true to his word, he did not leave your side.

Masterpost

💔 Viraj Dobriyal One-Shot | Angst / Dark Genre: Angst, Dark Romance, Psychological Drama Summary: On the day of your wedding, Viraj Dobriyal walks in—calm, composed, and unshakable—claiming you as his own. What was meant to be freedom begins to feel like the prison he has already built around you.

You had always believed in kindness.

It was your nature—soft-spoken, warm, ever hopeful. Even in the coldest of places, surrounded by ruthless warlords and cruel soldiers, you had clung to the belief that there was good in the universe.

But then he had claimed you.

Frieza had taken you as his, not through love, not through consent, but because he wanted you. And in his mind, wanting something meant owning it. You were a prize, a pet, a delicate thing he could keep under his control.

The days in his grasp were suffocating. He was possessive, unpredictable, and terrifying. Yet, despite everything, despite the nightmares and the forced smiles, something beautiful came from the cruelty.

Kuriza.

The moment you held your son in your arms, his small body warm against yours, you knew—he was the only good thing to come from Frieza’s obsession. The only thing that mattered now.

---

Raising Kuriza in Frieza’s empire was like trying to protect a flickering candle in a hurricane. You wanted to give him warmth, to shield him from the monstrous world his father ruled with an iron fist.

"You spoil the boy," Frieza would say, amused as he watched you cradle Kuriza after he scraped his knee. "He needs to be strong, not coddled."

"He needs to be loved," you always countered, holding your son closer.

You sang him lullabies, taught him kindness, whispered to him about a world beyond war and destruction. When Frieza was away, you told Kuriza stories of peace, of friendship, of a future where he wasn’t feared but adored.

But Frieza knew.

---

Frieza was never one to let go of what was his. And you were his, just as much as Kuriza was.

"Do you think you can change him?" he asked one night, watching as you tucked your son into bed. "Do you think you can make him soft, like you?"

"I think I can make him better than you," you whispered.

Frieza only chuckled, a chilling sound, before cupping your chin with cold fingers.

"You’re adorable when you fight back, my dear," he mused. "But you forget—" he leaned closer, pressing a soft, deceptive kiss against your temple, "Kuriza is my son."

Your blood ran cold. Because deep down, you knew—no matter how much you tried to protect Kuriza from his father’s darkness, Frieza would always be there, waiting, shaping him into the heir he desired.

But you wouldn’t stop.

You would fight.

For Kuriza.

For the one piece of light in your frozen, caged world.

Masterpost