shao Kahn x reader

chapter one

When I was a little girl, I always sensed deep down that my father didn't love me. I couldn't fully understand why at the time, but his actions and the way he looked at me made it impossible to ignore. Every time I tried to approach him, hoping for a smile or even a few kind words, he'd brush me off, telling me to go outside as though my presence alone was somehow an annoyance. His tone wasn't always harsh, but there was an unmistakable edge of rejection, a reminder that I was a tolerated inconvenience rather than a daughter he cherished. Each time he glanced at me, I saw something in his eyes that made me feel small, as though I were a mistake.

Back then, I was too young to understand why he treated me that way. I was just a child, desperate to win his affection, constantly questioning what I had done wrong. Maybe if I stayed out of the way, played quietly, or simply disappeared into the background, he'd finally show me a little warmth. I thought if I was good enough, if I could be the perfect daughter, he'd love me. But no matter what I did, his coldness never wavered. Looking back now, I realize he'd never wanted a daughter.

Then came the day my little brother was born. I remember being ushered into the room, only to see my father's face softening as he cradled the tiny bundle in his arms. I stood in the doorway, watching him smile down at my brother with such tenderness, such pride. It was a warmth I had never seen him direct at me, an affection I had only dreamed of receiving. His smile lit up his face, and in that instant, I felt something inside me break. I wanted that smile so badly; I craved that gentleness, that feeling of being truly wanted. So, I decided I'd do whatever it took to earn it.

In my childlike way, I started with small gestures. I'd pick his favorite fruits from the garden, carefully choosing the ripest ones, hoping the simple act would bring him some joy or make him see me differently. I'd watch him from afar, holding my breath, waiting for even the slightest hint of appreciation. But each time I offered him the fruits, he barely acknowledged them before brushing me aside. Still, I was undeterred. I threw myself into my studies, determined to bring home perfect grades, convinced that academic success would finally make him proud of me. If I was smart enough, hardworking enough, maybe he'd finally see some value in me. I even took on the farm work, though it was grueling for someone so small. I'd return to my room each night with blistered hands, my muscles aching, but I thought that if I could just lighten his load, maybe he'd look at me differently.

But no matter what I did, it was never enough. His eyes always held that same look of disdain, that deep-seated disgust. I'd watch from the shadows as he doted on my brother, showering him with the affection I had only dreamed of receiving. Every time I saw them together, the truth became clearer: I would never be the child he was proud of. I would never be enough.

Eventually, I stopped trying. The pain of hoping for something that would never come was too much to bear. I turned all my love and affection toward my little brother instead. He was the one bright spot in my life, the one person who brought a sense of warmth and light to my darkened world. Despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to resent him, even though he was the one receiving the love I so desperately wanted. I adored him with all my heart, and I swore to protect him from our father's bitterness. I became fiercely protective, terrified that one day, our father's disgust would be directed at him too. We'd play together in secret, hidden from our father's disapproving eyes, always on edge, always afraid of what would happen if we were caught.

And then, one day, we were.

I'll never forget that moment. We were laughing softly, chasing each other around, when suddenly, our father's shadow darkened the doorway. The moment I looked up, my heart sank. His eyes were burning with a look that was both familiar and terrifying—disgust mixed with pure, unbridled rage. Without a word, he stormed over, his face twisted with fury. Before I could react, his hand shot out, clamping down on my wrist with a grip like iron. Pain shot through my arm as his fingers dug into my skin, yanking me away from my brother. I struggled, but I was too small, too weak to fight back. He dragged me down the hall, his grip only tightening with each step, until he threw me into a dark, cold room. The door slammed shut behind me, and I was left alone, swallowed by the darkness.

I huddled in the corner, trembling. The room was silent except for the sound of my own shallow breathing, the air thick with fear. I curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I wanted to disappear, to sink into the shadows and escape the overwhelming fear that wrapped around me like a vice. I cried softly, too afraid to make a sound that might bring him back.

I don't know how long I was trapped in that room. Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. Eventually, my mother found me. She opened the door, and I ran to her, clinging to her as if she were my last lifeline. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were filled with a sorrow I didn't understand then. She knew. She knew something was deeply wrong, and in that moment, she was the only person in the world who could save me.

That night, for the first time, I was allowed to sleep next to my brother. I held him close, his small, warm body comforting me in a way I hadn't felt in years. His presence alone seemed to shield me from the pain and fear I'd carried. But that feeling didn't last long. Later that night, I heard my parents arguing, their voices muffled but intense. They were fighting about me. I pressed my face into my brother's shoulder, trying to block out the sound, clinging to him as if he could protect me from the truth.

From that day on, my father's indifference turned into avoidance. I still tried occasionally to offer him small tokens of affection, but he either ignored or discarded them as though they were worthless. I learned to live with his rejection, numbing myself to the emptiness it left behind.

As time passed, my father's influence grew. Our small farm expanded into a bustling city, thriving under his rule. He built an army, raised walls to protect us, and I grew into a young woman. My brothers told me I was becoming beautiful, though I never really saw it. Life continued, though my father barely acknowledged me. I had grown used to his coldness, accepting it as part of my life.

Then, war came.

Shao Kahn, the ruthless warlord, attacked. My father had forged an alliance with the Tarkata clan, but Shao Kahn launched his invasion before they arrived. I was in my room when the sounds of battle erupted—shouts, clashing metal, the distant roar of the enemy. I rushed to the throne room, heart pounding, only to be met with a sight that left me frozen.

In the center of the room, my father—once proud and powerful—was cowering on the floor in front of Shao Kahn, who stood over him with his war hammer in hand, his eyes gleaming with malice. For the first time, I saw my father as he truly was—a broken, terrified man stripped of all his power.

As Shao Kahn raised his hammer, my father looked at me for the first time in a long while. Desperation flashed across his face, and then he spoke.

"You can have my daughter in marriage!" His voice cracked as the words left his mouth, and the room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at him, disbelief and shock etched on their faces. He continued, his voice trembling. "She's a virgin, educated, obedient, and submissive. She would make a fine wife."

Shao Kahn looked at him with a raised brow, his expression unreadable before he finally spoke. "Show me her."

My father's face lit up with relief, and he quickly gestured for me to step forward. "Y/N, sweet pea, come here!"

My body trembled as I slowly stepped into the center of the room, my heart racing. Shao Kahn's piercing gaze fixed on me as he approached, circling around me slowly, examining me from every angle. He stopped in front of me, grabbing my chin with a rough grip, tilting my head to inspect me more closely. His eyes held a cold, calculated look as if I were nothing more than a prize to be assessed.

"And if I take her as my wife, what else will you offer?" he asked, his voice laced with a sinister edge.

My father exhaled in relief, his desperation evident. "I will fight alongside you with my entire army. You may do as you wish with her, as long as my family is spared."

Shao Kahn was silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on me as he seemed to weigh his decision. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I'll marry her."

Without another word, he lifted me onto his shoulder, carrying me out of the throne room as if I were a mere possession. I was too shocked to speak, my body trembling.