||TW:ABUSE||

Scars and bruises are loiter your body whenever Feitan is involved; he loves it.

His chest endlessly swells with pride and satisfaction knowing he’s the one who inflected the wounds decorating your body.

They range from handprints from his ironclad grip or scars from using objects and his nails.

It hurt to the point of you passing out and tears streaming down your face, but it’s very much addicting. For him mostly.

The male’s cruel behavior is relentless because that’s just his nature, but his soft disposition is only shown when you’re alone cleaning your wounds.

And his possessiveness leaves no room for anyone to be kept alive. None of the Troupe members dare to mention the ordeal because what Feitan does is Feitan’s business.

Yet this wasn’t the case for onlookers.

The shorter male forces you to wear revealing clothes as proof of his love for you displayed by the discoloration on your body whenever you two are on a mission together, yet it’s really just you tagging along with him.

You stand there in a market aisle and shiver from having your legs and arms being exposed. The male pays no mind and only stands beside you looking at the stacked shelves with a bored expression.

He has half the mind to just steal what he wants, but he loves you enough to let you buy what you want morally.

He rolls his eyes as you drop only a couple snacks in a basket hanging off your arm, but then turns to a couple of guys who approach you both.

One steps forward with an angered expression as he stares at your bruised, scarred form, and Feitan immediately turns around leaking bloodlust immediately itching to slice their throats.

You turn towards him panicked having no desire to witness blood painting the aisle, and not wanting to see a bunch of decapitated men.