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⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/afab reader/lots of kissing, like, lots/digital sex/low key dry humping/he fucks you like he missed you (because he did.)
★ It was late. Super late. You hadn’t noticed until you finally looked at your phone. Past midnight.
★ The house settles around you like an old song of some sort—familiar, a little lonely. Twenty seven days. You stopped counting after three weeks, but your body kept the tally anyway, in the way you sleep diagonal across the bed now, in how you forget to make dinner for one, instead of two. (It’s a habit.)
★ You’re brushing your teeth when you see him. Not him him, just—a shape. A shadow that wasn’t there a second ago, filling the bathroom doorway like he never left, like the past month was just you blinking too slow.
★ The toothbrush clatters into the sink.
★ Takeda doesn’t flinch. His smile is tired, soft around the edges, the kind that makes your chest hurt in that good way, the way that means home. He’s still in his gear—all matte black and reinforced plating, the stuff that makes him look like he walked out of a briefing. But his mask is gone. Just Takeda. Just that stupidly handsome face you’ve been replaying in your head for weeks like a song stuck on loop.
★ “Hey,” he says. Casual. Like he didn’t just materialize out of nowhere at 1:34 in the morning. You’re still catching your breath when he crosses the space between you—three steps, maybe less—and his arms loop around your waist from behind. Solid. Warm. Real. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the curve of your neck, then another, like he’s making up for lost time one heartbeat at a time.
★ “You—“ Your voice wobbles. You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help. “When did you get back?”
★ “Twenty minutes ago.” His breath ghosts over your skin, and you shiver. He notices. Of course he does. “Couldn’t wait.”
★ “You could’ve texted..”
★ “Could’ve” Another kiss, this one just below your ear. “Didn’t want to.”
★ Your reflection is a mess—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, the kind of expression that gives away every single thing you’re feeling. Takeda meets your gaze in the mirror, and his smile curves just a little more.
★ “Missed you,” he murmurs, and it’t not fair how he says it, all low and rough like the words got caught somewhere in his chest on the way out.
★ “I—missed you too.” Understatement of the century. You’ve been carrying his absence around like a weight, and now he’s here, and you’re not sure your knees are going to hold.
★ He hums, satisfied, and keeps kissing your neck like he’s got all the time in the world. Slow, reverent, the kind of attention that makes your brain go fuzzy at the edges.
★ “Takeda-“
★ “Mm?”
★ “You’re—“ You try to turn around, but his grip tightens just enough to keep you there, trapped between him and the sink. “You’re very...touchy right now..”
★ “Yeah.” No denial. His nose brushes your temple. “Problem?”
★ “No, just,” You laugh, breathless, and he grins against your skin like he won something. “You’re usually more… I dunno know, chill?”
★ “Haven’t seen you in four weeks.” His hands splay across your stomach, thumbs tracing lazy circles through your tank top. “Chill isn’t happening tonight.”
★ Four weeks. Twenty seven days. It sounds different when he says it, heavier, like he counted every single one too.
★ “I thought you’d be gone longer,” you admit quietly.
★ “So did I.” His arms tighten. “Told them I was done early. Didn’t care. Just—needed to come home.”
★ Home. The word sits in the space between you, warm and certain.
★ “Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he continues, and there’s something in his voice now, something raw. “The whole time. Every second I wasn’t actively trying not to die, I was thinking about you.”
★ Your heart does that stupid fluttery thing, the one you’re pretty sure is medically inadvisable.
★ “That’s—“ You start, but you don’t get to finish, because suddenly the world tilts.
★ One second you’re upright. The next, youre hoisted over Takeda’s shoulder like a sack of rice, your startled yelp echoing off the bathroom tiles.
★ “Takeda!”
★ He just laughs—deep, genuine, the kind you don’t hear often enough—and starts walking. You brace your hands against his back, half laughing, half squealing as he carries you out of the bathroom like this is perfectly normal behavior.
★ “Put me down!”
★ “Nope.”
★ “I’m serious,”
★ “So am I.” He pats the back of your thigh, almost apologetic. Almost. “Told you. Missed you too much.”
★ You kick your feet a little, more for show than anything, and he just adjusts his grip like you weigh nothing. The hallway blurs past, and then you’re in the bedroom, and then you’re flying—
★ You land on the mattress with a bounce and a breathless laugh, hair everywhere, heart racing. Takeda stands at the foot of the bed, grinning down at you like he just won the lottery, and starts stripping off his gear.
★ The plating comes off first. Piece by piece, discarded without ceremony, until he’s just in a compression shirt and shorts—the kind that cling in all the right ways and make it very hard to think straight.
★ “You gonna stare, or are you gonna make room?” he teases. You scoot over, face burning, and he flops down beside you with zero grace and one hundred percent satisfaction. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you close until there’s no space left between you, until you’re tangled up in him and the sheets and the quiet of the room.
★ “Hi,” he says, softer now.
★ “Hi.” You can’t stop smiling. It’s starting to hurt.
★ He cups your face with one hand, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and leans in. The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he’s savoring it—savoring you. When he pulls back, just enough to breathe, his eyes are half lidded and fond.
★ “Never doing that again,” he murmurs.
★ “What?”
★ “Being gone that long,” His forehead rests against yours. “Don’t care what mission they throw at me. Never again.”
★ Your chest squeezes. “Takeda,”
★ “I mean it.” Another kiss, this one to your nose. “Can’t do it. You’re here, and I’m here, and that’s how it should be.”
★ You don’t argue. Can’t, really, when he’s looking at you like that—like you’re the only thing that makes sense in a world that’s usually khaos and blood and missions that don’t have happy endings.
★ “Okay?”
★ “Okay.” You curl into him, tucking your head under his chin. “Just… stay tonight.”
★ His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrates against your cheek.
★ “Baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m not going anywhere. For this week at least.” That made your heart soar, finally some genuine bonding with your boyfriend…
★ He tilts your chin up with gentle fingers, his gaze locking onto yours with that familiar mix of hunger and warmth. And kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue slipping past your lips to trace along yours in a slow, teasing dance. He pulls you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist to press your body flush against his, the heat of him seeping through your clothes.
★ You melt into it, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. The kiss deepens even more, turning messy and urgent as his free hand cups the back of your neck, holding you steady while his tongue explores every inch of your mouth. A low groan rumbles from his throat, vibrating against your lips, and he shifts slightly, his body settling heavier over yours in the bed.
★ Breaking the kiss just enough to trail his mouth down your jaw, Takeda nips at your skin before latching onto the curve of your neck. His teeth graze lightly at first, then suck harder, marking you with a blooming hickey that sends sparks straight to your core. another one follows lower, on the spot where your pulse races, his tongue soothing the sting before he bites again. “God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough with need. “Missed you. Every damn night on that mission, this is what I pictured.“
★ His hand, calloused from training and fights, slides down your side with deliberate slowness, tracing the dip of your hip before venturing between your thighs. You part your legs instinctively, a soft gasp escaping as his palm presses against the thin fabric of your clinging shorts. He rubs in firm circles, the friction building heat through the material, his fingers outlining the shape of your pussy—teasing the swollen folds without mercy. The pressure makes you squirm, wetness soaking through, and he chuckles darkly, feeling it.
★ “You’ve missed me just as much.” he teases, his lips returning to yours for another deep kiss, tongues tangling as his hand slips under the waistband of your shorts. His fingers find your slick entrance immediately, one dipping in to coat itself before he circles your clit with precise strokes. He pushes two fingers inside you then, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your hips buck. All the while, he keeps kissing you, swallowing your moans, his thumb working your clit in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. he groans into your mouth, his pace quickening. “Dreamt about fucking you, every night.” He curled his fingers “Waking up hard every morning because of you…”
★ The words push you closer, your walls fluttering around his fingers as he pumps them faster, deeper, driving you toward release. Your nails dig into his back—his body pinning you gently, his free hand stroking your hair even as he fingers you relentlessly. The orgasm crashes over you hard, your pussy spasming as you cry out against his lips, and he kisses you through it, messy and loving, until you’re trembling beneath him.
★ Takeda eases his fingers out slowly, your waistband snapping against your skin as he brought them to his mouth to suck them clean with a satisfied hum. He hovers above you now, his weight shifting fully on top as he settles between your thighs. The hard line of his cock strains against his shorts, and he grinds it forward, dragging the clothed length along your soaked core. The spandex clings to you both, amplifying every slide—the ridge of him pressing right against your clit, making you whimper. He rocks his hips steadily, eyes dark and locked on yours, the friction building tension that’s almost painful in its sweetness.
★ “Need you,” he rasps, grinding harder for a few more torturous moments before his hands hook into your shorts. He tugs them down your thighs in one smooth motion, kicking them aside, then shucks his own off just as quickly. His cock springs free, thick and throbbing, the tip already leaking. He lines himself up, rubbing the head along your folds to coat himself in your juices, before pushing in with a slow, deep thrust. You both moan at the stretch, your pussy gripping him like it never wants to let go. Pulling out to the tip, his hips snap forward again, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion, the heat of your walls enveloping him completely.
★ You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure ripple through you, every inch of him filling you so perfectly it borders on overwhelming. Takeda’s breath hitches against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in frantic kisses, each one laced with the desperation of days apart.
★ He grunts while pulling back only to thrust in deeper, harder. The slick slide of his cock dragging along your inner walls sends sparks igniting in your core, your body arching up to meet him. You feel every vein pulsing against you, the friction building a fire that makes your toes curl.
★ Your legs wrap around his waist, heels pressing into his back to urge him on. He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, angling his hips so he hits that spot inside you. Each plunge harsh—skin slapping against skin with a wet rhythm.
★ Sweat beads on his forehead, trickling down to mix with the dampness between your bodies. You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him down for another messy kiss—tongues tangling, teeth clanking and nipping, tasting the salt on his lips.
★ “I love you so much,” you whisper against his mouth, your voice breaking on a whimper as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the pressure sending jolts of electricity straight to your nerves. He responds by speeding up, thrusts turning erratic, his cock swelling thicker inside you, stretching you further.
★ Takeda’s grip tightens, fingers bruising your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. You feel the coil tightening, your breaths coming in short, sharp pants, every muscle tensing. his thumb finds your clit, and he circles it with firm strokes, the added friction shattering your control.
★ The orgasm rips through you, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock, squeezing him in vise like spasms. You cry out his name, body shuddering beneath him.
★ He fucks you through it—like every second apart was agony he needs to erase. His hips snap forward in a rhythm that’s dominant but tender, each thrust burying him to the hilt. One hand braces beside your head, the other interlacing with yours as he leans down to capture your lips again, kissing you softly between the building pace. “Mmff” he pants, voice breaking. “Fuck—“
★ He angles his hips to hit deeper, faster, chasing his release, you cum hard a second time—unexpected, crying out and shaking around him as he he trusts into you sloppily before abruptly pulling out, fisting his cock to stroke himself twice as hot ropes of cum spill across your stomach. He smears it with his thumb, a proud glint in his eyes as he watches it mark your skin.
★ He collapses onto you, careful not to crush but heavy enough to feel like a comforting weight—a living blanket enveloping you. His face buries in the crook of your neck, lips pressing lazy kisses to the fresh hickeys and your pulse. “Love you,” he whispers, nuzzling closer, his arms wrapping around you tight.
👽: silly rabbit, he’s giving you kids! No…? Alright…
🖇️: Rabbit Hybrid/Demi Human!Reader x Shang Tsung
✅: Proof Read
⚠️: (N)SFW/AFAB!Reader/Captive x Keeper/Little bit of a slow burn/Soft power dynamic/implied breeding kink/Reader has rabbit traits (ears, tail, shorter build etc.)/Finger fucking/Table sex/cream pie/Smut stuff RAHHH 🗣️
★ Uncomfortable. The lab was sterile, cold, and unwelcoming. Perched on a steel table, legs dangling shyly over the edge, your posture was small—hunched slightly forward, arms tucked close to your sides. You were tired, wearing the day’s issued shift: soft blue, boxy, mid-thigh.
★ You were anxious, ears twitching atop your head in sync with your nerves.
★ Shang Tsung watched you with a scalpel-like gaze—sharp, cutting, clinical. But amused. “Oh, you are a delicate thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
★ You didn’t speak. Just blinked—wide-eyed. Like prey that freezes once the predator sees them. Corners them. Captures them.
★ He reached forward, gloved fingers brushing your chin. With a single knuckle, he tilted your face upward. You didn’t resist. Your nose twitched, ears drooping slightly at the touch. Curious. Submissive. Not broken….just used to fear. A docile little creature, caught and caged.
★ “You’re quieter than I expected. Most hybrids snarl, kick, bite.” He paused, tilting his head. “But you’re more prey than predator.”
★ His tone wasn’t cruel—just cold. Clinical, with a thread of entertainment. He was enjoying this more than he’d admit. He stepped closer, arms clasped behind his back.
★ Then, without warning, one hand reached out again, brushing your shoulder. His fingers trailed along your collarbone—light as air. You stiffened.
★ “Your musculature is humanoid,” he said, like dictating notes to a student. “But your build… mm. Light. Fragile. Not built for kombat. For running, perhaps.” He circled you, and you tried not to flinch.
★ “Your ears,” he continued, lifting one gently. The fur was impossibly soft. Your breath caught; the ear twitched in his grasp. You didn’t move—but you made a sound. A soft, involuntary hum. Barely audible.
★ He smirked. “How sensitive,” he murmured, intrigued. His hands moved to your legs. You jolted at the first touch but didn’t pull away. He pressed gently to your thighs, testing the muscle. Still detached—but closer now. Too close.
★ “Still,” he said, “I wonder how much of you is rabbit… and how much is—”
★ His fingers wandered too low. It was unintentional—he had been examining your spine. But instead, he found your tail. A small, velvety nub of fur. Soft and round, like a puff of cloud.
★ You squeaked. A sudden, high-pitched, innocent sound—startled and unbidden.
★ Shang Tsung froze. He hadn’t expected that. Your body curled inward, eyes wide, cheeks pink. And strangely—he felt heat rise in his own face.
★ Not much. Just a flicker of color in his otherwise composed demeanor. He withdrew his hand slowly, as if he’d touched something not just forbidden, but…. personal. “I see,” he said, voice notably lower. “Highly sensitive.”
★ Your ears drooped in embarrassment. You blinked up at him, watching as his eyes slowly traveled over you. Something shifted—a hairline crack in his detachment. You weren’t just a specimen. You had thoughts. Feelings. You squeaked when touched.
★ You were adorable. How troubling…
•••
★ You didn’t know when it changed. Maybe it was when his voice softened. Or when he started waiting until after you ate to touch you—never before. Maybe it was when he began bringing a blanket, draping it over your legs when the sterile chill of the lab made you shiver. But something shifted.
★ The next time he visited, he brought a small tray of fruit. Not food pellets or rations—real fruit. Sliced and arranged: figs, strawberries, watermelon cubes, and slivers of peach so thin you could see light through them.
★ “Eat.” He said simply, placing the tray beside you. You blinked up at him again—cautious. He watched as your hands, still resting timidly in your lap, slowly crept forward. Your fingers brushed a piece of peach.
★ “Wait.” His voice halted you. You froze mid-reach, eyes darting up to his. He leaned in, plucking the fruit himself. Holding it between two fingers, he lifted it to your lips. Your breath hitched.
★ “…Open,” he said—half suggestion, half command. You obeyed. Lips parting as he slipped the peach just barely past them, fingers brushing your bottom lip. You chewed in silence. He watched—just as silently.
•••
★ That evening was especially quiet. The air held a stillness—soft, heavy. You sat on the exam table, as usual, legs swinging idly. Shang stood before you, his gloves removed this time. Bare hands. He reached for your ears again, brushing one with his thumb and forefinger, rubbing slow, careful circles into the base. You would have purred if you could. So you leaned into his touch instead.
★ “You enjoy this,” he murmured—not a question. You nodded faintly. “It calms me…”
★ Shang’s gaze darkened—not with anger, but interest. “Of course it does. You were designed to be touched gently, weren’t you?” He leaned in, breath warm on your cheek, nose ghosting near your temple. You didn’t pull away.
★ His fingers trailed to your jaw, tipping your face upward. Your legs stilled. His knee now brushed between yours at the table’s edge, subtly anchoring you.
★ “Tell me if you wish to stop…” he said. It was the first time he’d ever said that. You blinked up at him, cheeks warm, your silence speaking in quiet consent.
★ That was all he needed. His mouth pressed to your neck—warm, deliberate. A low hum vibrated against your skin as he kissed along the curve.
★ “Skin temperature elevated,” he murmured against your throat, smug and amused. “Respiration uneven. Twitch response—intact.” He nipped you lightly, and you gasped. “Very intact.”
★ Your hands gripped the edge of the table—not out of fear, but restraint. Your ears twitched, now wildly, and he chuckled softly. “You hate how much you’re enjoying this,”
★ You did.
★ But you also loved being the only one allowed this. The only one not turned into a creature. The only one he treated like…like something more than a project. Something closer to a—
★ “What does this make you?” he asked suddenly, as if reading your thoughts. His tongue traced the place his lips had just left. “A failed test?” Another kiss. Slower. “A pet?” Another. “A partner?” You trembled. He felt it.
★ “…A pet partner?” he whispered with a grin you could feel. There was self deprecation in his tone, despite his words being directed at you. It was so wrong—all of it. And yet, his lips grazed just beneath your ear, nipping the lobe, making your whole body jolt. You leaned forward slightly, instinctively, as if your heart were reaching out before your pride could stop it.
★ He pulled back from your throat, only a breath away. His eyes scolded. His mouth hung open slightly, looking at you like he wasn’t sure whether to worship you—or ruin you.
★ He chose both.
★ “Damn you…” he growled, then kissed you. Not a question. Not a warning. A collision. Your gasp was swallowed as he pressed fully between your knees, the table biting into his thighs even more so, arms caging you in. Not with menace—but desperation. His hands—accustomed to dissecting—now clutched your waist like a lifeline. Your fingers gripped his robes, needing something to hold as the floor beneath logic gave way.
•••
★ His tongue teases—demanding entrance. You yield without hesitation, moaning into his mouth, drawing a shudder from his frame. Without preamble, he lifts you—effortless, precise—only to shift your weight slightly. The fabric of his robes drag between your thighs as he presses forward.
★ His hand slides up your thigh now—more confident, somehow more reverent. He palms your tail again, chuckling against your lips, the sound soft, almost affectionate. As though he’s grown fond of how sensitive you are.
★ As if he delights in being the only one who knows just how soft you really are. One hand cradles your cheek, thumb grazing over flushed skin. “I tried to be clinical,” he murmurs between kisses, breathless, “truly…”
★ “I studied you, dissected you in thought,” he continues, lips trailing along your jaw, then down your throat—biting this time, soft at first. “But you’re not a puzzle. Not a sample.” The next bite is harder, coaxing a whine from your lips as your thighs squeeze around him.
★ “You’re maddening.” He grinds into you now—deliberate, slow—and you feel every aching inch through your thin shift. It makes your back arch, your ears twitching in helpless response. He growls lowly, desperate for more friction. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he murmurs, lips dragging downward. “Hm… rabbit?”
★ You don’t answer. Not with words. You don’t trust your voice. Instead, you roll your hips forward—grinding against him, fingers curling into his hair, guiding his mouth back to yours.
★ This kiss is messier, hungrier. His hand slips beneath your shift—finally—touching you bare. He groans, low and primal, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re soft everywhere…” his fingers ghost between your thighs. You gasp, again and again. “Even here. And so wet—for me?” His grin is sharp, wicked. “From a kiss?”
★ Your legs twitch closed instinctively. He holds them apart with ease. “Ah-ah…” he chides gently, “let me see all of you.” His fingers slide along your slit—teasing, never entering. And you ache. Gods, how you ache.
★ But he doesn’t rush. Though he could. Though he wants to. He restrains himself, treating you like some delicate chotchkie—collected, preserved, treasured. No reason to damage what is so perfectly his.
★ Now you’re laid across the lab table, that irritating little shift shoved up over your hips. Your legs are parted by his palms, your tail twitching against the cold surface, soaked, trembling, laid bare beneath his gaze.
★ “Look at you,” he purrs. “Quivering like prey… but not running. Is this bravery, little rabbit?” His fingers trace the inside of your thigh, featherlight.
★ “No answer,” he croons. “Typical of you.” Two fingers slide just a bit deeper, dragging through your slick arousal.
★ You buck, your ears folding back in shame and longing. His thumb presses lightly to your clit—just enough to make you sputter, not enough to satisfy. “So sensitive here…” He rubs a slow, torturous circle before suddenly—finally—sinking two fingers into you.
★ You cry out, one hand clawing the edge of the table. He groans at the feeling—like your body wants him, recognizes him.
★ “Tight little thing,” he grunts, voice thick with hunger. “But a perfect fit, nonetheless—like you were bred for this.” Your body jolts. His smile turns devilish.
★ “Oh?” he hums. “That word makes you squirm, doesn’t it?” His fingers curl inside, dragging slow and cruel against your walls. “Don’t tell me… that’s what you want. To be filled? Claimed? Used?” His pace quickens slightly. Your thighs tremble. “You want me to ruin you, is that it?” His voice drops, breath ghosting your ear. “To fuck the science out of you—until all that’s left is instinct?”
★ You whimper. That’s all you can do. Head tipped back, lips parted, eyes glazed. Helpless under his hand.
★ “No wonder I spared you,” he growls, dragging his fingers out, spreading you with his thumb while gazing down at the glistening proof of your need. “You really are a pet. One that sits where I place you…. and shakes when I touch you.”
★ You moan again, hips rocking against his hand. Desperate now. Unguarded.
★ “Does that sound about right?”
★ You nod. Slowly. Ears drooped, eyes half-lidded, dazed by the cadence of his voice. He scoffs—disgustedly aroused, then slams his fingers back inside. Faster. Deeper. Possessive. Punishing.
★ He’s rutting against the table now, clothed shaft pressing into your thigh. The evidence of his own need—hard and impossible to ignore.
★ “I could breed you. Right here.” His voice is shaking. “On this damned table. Fill you so full you forget your own name.” His thumb never stops—faster, firmer now. Perfect. Your hips rock erratically—stuttering. You’re unraveling.
★ Before you can stop it—you break. Fast. Embarrassingly fast. His gaze sharpens, ravenous, drinking in every twitch and cry as you spill around his fingers.
★ Trembling. Locking. Clinging to him. You arch, ears flopped back, tail twitching uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop—he draws it out, rubbing you through it, curling his fingers deeper, plucking those needy, broken sounds from you.
★ Only when your body slackens, twitching in the afterglow, does he withdraw. His fingers are slick, glistening. He watches you with dangerous calm—then licks them clean, slow and deliberate. “Delicious,”
★ He doesn’t move. Not yet. He just watches—as if still deciding which part of you he’ll take next.
•••
★ It didn’t take long—his decision—after that. Robes discarded, his form now settled between your parted thighs, the heat of him almost unbearable. His chest is bare. You’ve never seen him like this…. unarmored. There’s something disarming about it—his body, sculpted yet strangely soft, human in a way he rarely allowed to show. But his eyes? Starving. Like he’s waited lifetimes to do this.
★ “This is what you were designed for.” His voice is low, cruel in its certainty. A sharp thrust against your core makes you cry out—his cock pressing hotly against your entrance. “To be bred. To be mine.”
★ You nod without thought. Not even trying to form words. You can’t, not when the truth of it is so blinding. Then—you actually comprehend seeing him. Hard. Heavy. Veined. The kind of cock that promises ruin. The kind that leaves its shape inside you long after it’s gone. Your breath catches just at the sight.
★ “Scared, little rabbit?” His grin is slow, feral. “Or just eager?” He slides forward, skin to skin, dragging his cock along your soaked slit. Just teasing, gliding over your clit with maddening precision. His restraint is hellish. Every pass makes your hips buck upward, pout building with every denied inch.
★ His breath shudders as he murmurs, taking in the pathetic little expression on your face. “I’ll give you what you want….but know this isn’t curiosity.” His cock notches your entrance, “Not some experiment. Not a game. You’re mine to keep.”
★ And in one single, devastating stroke—he’s inside. Fully. Completely. Stretching you to the core. A sound spills from your lips—raw, broken, unlike anything you’ve ever made. (You didn’t know anyone could pull that from you.)
★ Shang Tsung groans—a sound deep and low, something unholy. His hands slam down beside your head—dropping to his forearms, nose to nose and caging you in.
★ He stills, and lets you feel it—all of him. The thickness. The twitch of him inside you. His cock pulses, and you can feel his heartbeat through your walls. You’re shaking, overwhelmed by the utter fullness of it all. And then—he starts to move. And gods—does he fucks you.
★ Deep, grinding thrusts, angled to find that spot inside that made your foot thump. He grunts against your neck, biting softly at the same spot he had been abusing this entire time. Your legs wrapped around him tighter in response, his hips snapping harsher, pounding into you with more force.
★ “I’ll fill you,” he grits out. The table creaking beneath you, “You’ll take every drop—every inch. And when I’m done—when you’re leaking—you’ll still beg for more.”
★ He grabs both plush ears with one hand, tugging your head back. His mouth finds your throat again, then your jaw, your lips...
★ You were close. So fucking close…the tension curled deep in your belly—wound tight, about to snap. “You like this, Being my undoing….” He says, bittersweet with his tone. Like it was all your fault he lost his common sense.
★ It’s what makes you come a second time. To be honest. Just knowing how composed this man always is—yet with you—he’s an insatiable mess. You’re sobbing while clenching around him, fitted like a glove, body limp as you take him. One, two, three more aggressive snaps of his hips and he spills inside you. Deep, hot and endless. You feel it, ropes of him, thick and warm.
★ Filling you until it drips down your thighs. His teeth are in your neck like they belonged there and nowhere else. His hands in your hair, gripping your plush ears, voice shaky, strangled as he whispers praises in a language you couldn’t pin down. He stirs your insides, pushing to the hilt, and then some.
★ He stays inside you, breathing hard, body still shaking with the effort of not breaking you.
•••
★ He doesn’t leave, doesn’t dress, isn’t retreating. He’s staying right there, half-draped over your trembling body, one hand stroking the curve of your hip like you’re glass. He presses a kiss to your temple.
★ “I’ll clean you,” he murmurs. “Then I’ll feed you.” His fingers brush over your belly, as if to mark the warmth left inside.
★ You groan in embarrassment, ears flat against your skull and tail twitching in that all too familiar way. He just chuckles.
★ The two of you laid there dazed for a few moments longer, his hand on your thigh, lazily tracing patterns, his cum still dripping from you onto the table. You barely registered his soft promises of spoiling his pet rotten.
tags - smut (mdni), stalking, euijoo is obsessed with you, he’s also a major perv, possible feet fetish? lmao, euijoo takes photos of you without your knowledge, public sex, public masturbation (m), oral (m rec.), masturbation (f and m)
wc - 3.7k
you had become friends with euijoo after being paired up for a school project. you were known as the quiet, weird kid that rarely talked to anyone—except the teacher.
you would eat your lunch in your teachers classroom instead of the lunchroom, which many side-eyed you for. euijoo was the complete opposite of you—he was popular, outgoing, loved by everyone. the teacher paired you two together in hopes of you creating a friendship with someone your age, believing euijoo to be a sweet, easy-going boy who you would easily get along with. and in hopes you would finally eat elsewhere and stop bothering her during the only time she didn’t have a full class to teach. although you begged to do the project on your own, she refused.
“it’s not going to be as bad as you think, euijoo is one of the smartest students i have. he’s a sweet kid, i think you would get along with him better than anyone else i could have chosen.” your teacher told you.
”but-“
“no buts. either do the project with him or fail”
”ughh fine! this is basically the same as being tortured!” you groaned, which caused your teacher to laugh.
you were only friends with people much older, believing it to be “simpler.” often volunteering at the retirement home, you would play games, bingo, or craft with the elderly. you also enjoyed hearing the stories of their youth.
you had become especially close with one elderly woman in particular. she was small in stature, kind, and always treated you like her own granddaughter. she would often speak of her grandson, saying he would be a perfect match for you. she would let you know when he would be visiting her, telling you to come on the same day. you never would, making up any excuse to avoid being set up with someone. however, she caught onto your lies quickly.
euijoo was sitting beside you as you two discussed the project in an empty classroom your teacher had agreed to let you use. you were surprised at how well you actually got along with him. you hadn’t felt comfortable this quickly around someone your age before. even though you two were there to go over the project, you two talked about many of your own interests, realizing you two were very similar. you didn’t even notice how physically close you were to him until you looked over starting to ask a question, noses almost touching. you both froze, neither of you moving. euijoo’s eyes flicking to your lips, then back up to your eyes. you almost didn’t notice it. almost. euijoo let out a breathy laugh and moved back, muttering quick apologies for being so close.
“ah i’m sorry- i was just trying to see your laptop screen- i didn’t-“ he stuttered, trying to get words out as quickly as possible.
you told him it was fine, and let out a small laugh trying to ease the awkward tension. choosing to believe you didn’t see the way his eyes drifted back down to your lips—or the way he didn’t seem sorry about it at all.
“maybe we should end here for today? pick this up again tomorrow?”
he agreed. telling you he was supposed to be visiting his grandma today. you playfully pushed him, telling him to go, and that you didn’t want to take up anymore of his time away from his grandma.
the next day, euijoo caught up to you in the hallway, asking if you wanted to meet in the same classroom to continue the project. you agreed, as you both had free time. you headed in the direction of the classroom, euijoo quickly following. to your dismay, the classroom was full. you groaned, euijoo bit back a knowing smile.
“why don’t we go back to my mine?” euijoo offered, giving you a soft smile.
you hesitantly agreed.
euijoo lived off-campus. he led you in an unfamiliar way. the streets were busy, so he pulled you close, hand resting on the small of your back.
”stay close, yeah?”
you gave a small nod.
”don’t want you to get lost, since you never go this way.” he said jokingly.
you were a bit taken aback by the comment, wondering if you had mentioned never having gone this way but just forgot. you brushed it off.
his hand never left your back, even on the way up to his apartment. you weren’t uncomfortable with it per se, but you did take notice of it being odd.
stepping into his apartment, you were surprised by how clean it was—as if he cleaned it for you. everything was neatly stored away. you first took your shoes off, then you slowly looked around at his decor. catching sight of a few of your shared interests. the mangas you liked, your favorite type of houseplant sitting in the corne, many things you had mentioned to him before.
he ushered you to his room, saying it would be more comfortable there. you sat on the corner of his bed. you crossed your legs, causing your tiny shorts to roll up, though you didn’t notice, but euijoo did. before euijoo sat down at his desk, he told you he was going to take a quick shower. it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.
he slipped out of his room, and into the bathroom. swiftly turning the shower on, he quietly left the bathroom, hoping the sound of the shower would drown out his footsteps. he made his way to the front door, grabbing one of your shoes, before sneaking his way back into his bathroom.
after locking the bathroom door, he shoved his pants and boxers down in one go. the thrill of possibly being caught by you exciting him even more. he gripped himself, cock heavy in his hand, precum beading at the tip. he slowly began to stroke himself, bringing your shoe up to his face at the same time. inhaling your sweet scent only caused him to pump faster. moaning as quietly as he could.
he moved the shoe back down, sticking the tip into the opening of the shoe. the guilt of what he was doing started to hit him, but his orgasm hit quicker.
he came so hard his vision went white for a second. his thick, hot cum spilling into your shoe.
after coming down from his high, the realization of everything hit him. he quickly wiped your shoe down, then hopped in the shower hoping to wash the “guilt” off. though he wasn’t truly guilty.
after getting out of the shower—and returning your shoe to its spot by the front door—he came back into his room, no shirt.
you glanced up from the notes you had been organizing, blissfully unaware of what had just taken place in the bathroom. your eyes quickly scanning his body. his smooth, toned body.
euijoo let out a laugh, noticing your obvious nervousness after seeing him.
“sorry, i forgot a shirt.” he mumbled, breaking the silence. but he didn’t forget a shirt. he wanted to see how you would react.
the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. euijoo asked about what you had worked on while he was in the shower. he walked over to his closet, and grabbed an old t-shirt to throw on.
he sat down beside you on the bed as you explained everything to him. his big, round eyes looking at you oh so innocently.
you never really noticed how much you were attracted to him until that moment. his wet, brown hair falling over his face, the way his lips curled into a smile, his big doe eyes. but you quickly snap out of that illusion. not allowing yourself to be one of the hundreds of girls that fell for him, assuming he could never feel the same about someone like you—not knowing he was utterly obsessed with you.
daytime quickly turned into nighttime as you and euijoo sat on his bed going over the work. only looking over at the window when you heard rain begin to fall.
you loudly groaned, telling euijoo you needed to be leaving.
“why don’t you let me take you home?” a frowning euijoo asked.
you thought the gesture was sweet, but not necessary. only agreeing after seeing his insistence.
you both straightened up your schoolwork, then headed for the door. euijoo went to grab an umbrella as you slid your shoes on. you let out a small gasp at the damp feeling of your shoe.
euijoo quickly asked what was wrong, feigning concern.
“my shoe is wet” you say, confused.
“maybe my dog peed on it? she sometimes does that when she smells an unfamiliar person.”
you accepted the explanation, but still confused since you never saw a dog.
the walk home was long and cold. euijoo had let you borrow his jacket after noticing your shivering. all of the sweet, small gestures made you realize why everyone loved him so much. he was basically perfect. always putting others above himself.
euijoo, however, was far from perfect. he was a major pervert. he would often steal your pens, erasers, dig your used tissues out of the trash, anything he could get. “just one more time” he would often tell himself—but it was never enough. he would sometimes follow you home. peeking through your windows, watching you. tonight was no exception, but he did get to walk you home, which he seen as an improvement.
after you got inside your home, and you immediately went to your room and changed. unaware he was watching you. the whole time. taking photos.
you didn’t have any classes the next day, so you went to the retirement home again, thinking they might need an extra hand—which they always appreciated.
you first went to see your favorite person there. as usual, you were asked to meet her grandson. thinking about the feelings that were growing for euijoo, the feelings you wish you could ignore, you reluctantly agreed. she excitedly told you he would be stopping by today after his classes. you felt anxiety creeping up inside of you.
after a couple of hours of helping around, you eventually went back to rest in her room, closing the door behind you. she asked about your schoolwork, in which you told her about your project and how you would’ve preferred to do it alone in the beginning, but you were now happy you got out of your comfort zone since you believed you made a new friend.
knock knock knock
you got up to open the door, assuming it to be a worker checking in. the door softly opened. you froze for a second, shocked to see the project partner you had just been speaking of standing in front of you. euijoo greeted you, giving you a sweet smile. you shyly greeted him, still in shock the grandson you had heard about for months was euijoo.
euijoo’s grandma silently watching the whole interaction, leaning back into her chair. she noticed the subtly change in body language from both of you.
“i’m assuming you two have met?”
you gave a small nod. telling her you were partners on a school project. which led to her telling euijoo how kindly you were speaking of him just moments ago. embarrassment hitting hard as you looked anywhere but euijoo’s face. the wall, the small fake plant in the middle of the table, the curtain blowing in the breeze from the window being ajar. you wished a hole would open up in the floor and swallow you to save you from the embarrassment you felt in that moment.
euijoo hummed, the corners of his lips curled up into a smile in such a genuine way. for a moment you only focused on him, forgetting what he had just heard. until you were offered to sit back down, breaking you out of your trance.
you three talked for hours, though it was mostly just you and euijoo as his grandma fell asleep sometime throughout your conversation but neither of you noticed. you both secretly wished you could live in this moment forever. both of you speaking softly, the low sounds of nature coming in through the still slightly open window. the atmosphere was oddly intimate considering you were in a retirement home with his sleeping grandma across from you.
euijoo walked you home once again. it was silent for a while, just enjoying each others company. the distant sounds of crickets, the occasional croak of a frog, the sound of your feet walking in sync. you felt the relationship between you two change that night.
you don’t know how, but it became a routine for euijoo to walk you home every day. even after the project was finished. on certain days, you would visit his grandma. which was mostly just you two talking as she slept.
every day, without fail, after saying goodbye and wishing you sweet dreams, euijoo would sneak around to your bedroom window. trying to catch any glimpse of you being in a state of undress. his feet lightly stepping on the freshly cut grass around your house—trying not to leave any trace of him being where he shouldn’t. like he was a predator and you were his prey.
some nights, if he was lucky, he would get to see his favorite show. you touching yourself. sometimes you were especially horny after his lingering touches. you would quickly shove your panties off, starting by rubbing slow circles around your clit, then inserting your fingers. he loved the sight of them pumping in and out of you—or sometimes you liked to hump your pillow, imagining it to be euijoo. no matter what, he enjoyed it. though he loved when you moaned his name loud and needy. he swears he could cum just from hearing you.
school was quickly coming to an end. you and euijoo had discussed your plans for the summer. you planned on taking a lifeguard job at the local pool. after hearing that, euijoo immediately began to imagine you wearing a skimpy bikini, but quickly snapped out of it. he then told you he planned on getting a job at the movies.
you both stood by what you said, getting summer jobs at the respective places.
you noticed euijoo coming to the pool nearly every day, saying he just enjoyed relaxing in the cool water on the hot summer days. you weren’t sure how though, since it was usually full of people. you often noticed him staring—constantly eyeing you up and down. his eyes dark, the intensity of his stare causing you to feel self conscious. you unconsciously began to pull your bikini top up more, attempting to cover yourself, which euijoo didn’t like. he quickly made his way out of the pool. his wet feet padding against the hot concrete.
“you look good” he said, blatantly staring at your partially exposed chest.
“thanks” you hummed. not knowing he was imagining taking you by the hand into the family bathroom and fucking you until you forgot your own name.
after your brief conversation, euijoo disappeared. you don’t know when, but long enough for you to notice.
euijoo had slipped into the bathroom, quietly jerking off to the photos he had just secretly taken of you. the image of you somehow finding him taking these photos, and being disgusted by how much of a perv he was only fueling his desire. the bathroom was empty except for him. which he was thankful for since he couldn’t hold back his moans after seeing you in a small bikini.
euijoo’s obsession only grew stronger.
on your days off, you found yourself going to the movie theater a lot. deep down you knew it was only to see euijoo, even if you tried denying it on the surface.
luckily, he was usually working when you stopped by. the sound of people chatting about the movie they had just seen, salty smell filling your nose, the loud pop of the popcorn in the background. you tuned everything out, only focusing on the soft, gentle tone of euijoo’s voice. the citrusy smell of his cologne overpowering the smell of the butter.
as you got up to the counter, your knees felt weak. you talked to euijoo all the time. why are you so nervous? you asked for one ticket for some movie you didn’t care about enough to remember the title, and a small popcorn.
euijoo hesitated before putting it in.
“i get off in around 15 minutes, maybe you would want to wait around and i could join you?”
you let it a shocked giggle. quickly telling him you’d be more than happy to wait.
you decided to play some of the claw machines set up near the entrance to pass the time. you set your sights on a small deer plush. playing a couple times but never managing to get it. euijoo watched you the whole time.
you pouted after another failed attempt, the bright lights flashing in your face as if it was mocking you. euijoo had just walked over in time to see you pout. he let out a soft chuckle, pushing your hair out of your face.
your mind went blank at his touch, completely forgetting about the stuffed toy.
he motioned for you to follow him, as he led you to the room your movie was playing in. you sat in the top row as the previews played. making small talk before the movie actually started. you shared a small popcorn with him.
you didn’t realize the random movie you had picked was a horror movie. you hated horror movies.
but you didn’t pick that movie. euijoo did. he bought tickets for a different movie knowing you were scared of horror movies.
you jumped at every small jumpscare, leaning into euijoo. he smiled every time, quietly telling you how cute you were.
his hand moved onto your thigh, watching your every expression. you didn’t even notice, you were too scared from the movie. his thumb started rubbing slow circles on the cotton material of your jeans. then you noticed, but didn’t give it much thought—assuming it was just euijoo’s way of soothing you. he squeezed your thigh every so often, inching his fingers up as he did.
after one particularly loud jumpscare, you instinctively reached to grab his hand. but you didn’t grab his hand. instead, your hand landed on his crotch. you quickly realized you weren’t holding onto his hand. your breathing quickened as you tried pulling back, quietly muttering apologies as to not disturb the other movie goers. euijoo grabbed your wrist, not letting you pull back. eyes dark and filled with lust.
he stood up, still holding your wrist. he practically dragged you out of the theater room and into the nearest bathroom. euijoo swiftly locked the door with one hand, as he pushed you up against the door. euijoo leaned in to kiss you, then stopped. giving you every chance to push him away, but you didn’t. you leaned in, kissing him hard.
you let out a soft moan, slightly opening your lips. euijoo took his chance and deepened the kiss. pushing his tongue into your mouth. you put your arms around his neck. his hands roamed your body. groping your hips, thighs, before landing on your breast. he kneaded the soft flesh through the thin fabric of your top. before eventually pushing your shirt and bra up. pinching and rolling your nipple with one hand, the other cupping your face.
you threw your head back, breaking the kiss to moan loudly at the feeling shooting through your body, with euijoo quickly pulling you back in for a kiss to muffle your noises as you were still in a public bathroom. knowing anyone could walk in on you two only fueled the desire. the tension impossibly thick.
one of your hands trailed down his body, then stopped at his jeans. palming him through the thick fabric separating you from what you really wanted. he slowly grinned into your palm, as if begging you to give him more.
you slowly kissed down his neck, before lowering yourself to your knees. you unbuttoned his jeans, as slow as you could, watching his hip jerk forward. his soft, needy pleas fill the quiet bathroom. you enjoyed teasing him.
“ple-please—f-fuck no teasing-“
he begged you to take his length in your mouth. and who were you to say when he was asking so prettily?
you wasted no more time before pulling his pants and underwear down. you were shocked by how big he was. you gripped his thick, throbbing cock, slowly spreading the precum that beaded at the tip. his skin hot to the touch.
you circled your tongue around his red tip, before licking a long, slow stripe up his shaft, drawing a high pitched whine from his lips.
you then start taking him deeper.
“you’re so pretty like this-“ euijoo said breathlessly as you looked up at him.
the eye contact causing a shift in him. he started forcing you to take him deeper. his hand that had been resting on the back of your head, gripped your hair tighter as he pushed your head. his hands then found their way to each side of your head. he thrusted sharply into your mouth, causing you to gag. he quickly set his own pace, fucking your face. you could feel every vein as they twitched on your tongue.
your hand slowly sliding down your pants, rubbing fast, tight circles around your clit, before you can’t take it anymore. you push your panties to the side, and pushing two of your fingers deep inside of your cunt while euijoo fucks your face.
you curl your fingers just right, causing you to see stars from the pleasure.
every muffled moan and gag from you pushed euijoo closer to the edge.
your orgasm came first, white-hot. you were shaking. euijoo was too focused on his pleasure to notice, though if he did he wouldn’t have stopped.
“fuck—i’m gonna cum” euijoo winced before giving one final deep thrust, hitting the back of your throat. euijoo came hard, spilling his thick, hot cum deep in your throat. you gagged by how much he had released, some spilling out the corners of your mouth.
he slowly pulled out, lifting your chin and enjoying the sight of your fucked-out face. he pushed the cum that had leaked out back into your mouth with his thumb, forcing you to suck it, letting out a low moan.
euijoo lifted you up, pulling you in for a kiss. tasting himself on your tongue.
“round two at my place, yeah?” he asked with a smirk.
A/N: This was not meant to be this long, I am sorry !!! I know I am meant to be writing for Johnny but Kenshi calls my name and whispers sweet nothings to me (I’m relentlessly horny for the yakuza man). Anyways, it's not my best work but ENJOY !!! <33
Summary: When your roommate is out of town, you go clubbing to look for some companionship. When you strike out, you get an unexpected offer that you’re lightly hesitant to accept.
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of creepy men, minor mention of violence (single punch), mentions of alcohol, dirty talk, p in v sex, creampie, omg… they were roommates, Kenshi (he’s his own warning), no use of y/n, I think that’s all !
MDNI
It’s Friday night and you’ve had a hard time at work lately, it doesn’t help that Kenshi has been gone all week and won’t be back until Wednesday at the earliest. You miss him and you’re frustrated from work. So, when your friends invite you out to the club, your immediate response wasn’t to turn them down – like you usually did, instead you shocked both yourself and them by saying yes.
Now, you’re a bit tipsy and dancing the night away with your friends, you finally feel light after being weighed down by anxieties all week. Unfortunately, men ruin everything and one has come up behind you, grabbing at you to try and get you to dance with him. You attempt to shimmy away and tell him you’re uninterested but his hands grab onto you harder. He pulls you back into him and now you’re feeling scared, your heart rate has spiked and you feel like you’ve completely sobered up.
You turn around quickly, trying to loosen his grip on you, when you’ve successfully turned you smack him square in the nose and run away. Weaving through the large sea of people, you’ve lost track of your friends and you don’t remember when that happened anymore. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.
Reaching the exit, you stumble out onto the street, it’s still busy and bright, people moving along the strip to get into all kinds of different clubs. You pull out your phone to try and get an uber home when you see a heap of missed calls from Kenshi. Your heart jumps, worried for him but as you go to call him back, your phone rings in your hand, he’s calling again.
Your words rush out as soon as you pick up, “Are you okay?”
He breathes a sigh of relief on the other end, “Are you? I come home early and I can’t find you anywhere at nearly midnight and you won’t pick up your phone.”
“…Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home so early.” You feel badly, you didn’t mean to worry him.
“Neither did I,” he pauses for a moment, “Where are you?”
“Just… out with some friends,” you cringe at your half-truth, “I’m coming home right now.”
He sounds unamused, definitely able to tell you’re lying, “Do you need me to come get you?”
“No, I’m okay, I’ll get an uber or something,” your eyes wander the streets, a group of men are approaching and you shrink in on yourself.
Kenshi doesn’t like the idea of you getting in an uber alone, “Where are your friends? Can’t one of them take you home?”
“They’re still inside, I’ll tell you about it when I get home,” the group of men that pass by whistle and cat call you, your face pulls up in disgust at it but you continue talking, “I shouldn’t be that long–”
“–I’m going to come get you,” his tone is strained, you know he’s heard the men accost you.
His offer makes your heart swell but you tell him, “Kenshi don’t, it’ll take longer, just let me get an uber. I’ll be home super soon… okay?”
“Fine but if you aren’t home in 20 I’m coming to get you… and turn your location on,” he grumbles out, giving in to your logic.
“Yessir,” you joke at him.
“Don’t call me that,” he does not find you funny.
You pout at him, “You’re so mean to me.”
“Order your uber and get home safe,” he retorts before hanging up on you, not wanting you to talk to him any longer. The longer you stay on the phone with him, the longer it takes for you to get home.
You chuckle at his frustrations with you, he’s simultaneously so patient and impatient with you. Even though he’s a little short with you, he’s a good roommate and friend and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚
The uber came pretty quick, you get back to your shared apartment safe and within the 20 minutes he gave you. When you walk through the front door he’s quick to come up to you, he had been waiting for you on the couch.
His hands gently move over you, double checking you’re okay, “You smell like vodka.”
“I’m sober, the night started good but ended up blowing. The buzz was ruined after that,” you huff.
His hand holds yours; his thumb lightly brushes your knuckles and you intake a sharp breath, “What happened?”
“Mmm, some jackass grabbed onto me and I had to swing and run,” you’re dismissive, not really all that worried about it anymore, “I hadn’t realised I hit him that hard.”
His frown is deep, “Where were your friends?”
“I don’t know, dancing I guess. We just sorta lost track of each other,” you lean into him, your forehead rests on his chest, “I’m glad you’re home, it’s been lonely.”
“I don’t like your friends,” he’s blunt, straight to the point about it.
“They’re alright,” you defend.
Kenshi disagrees, “They do this every time you go out with them, they leave you behind.”
That is true, they have a tendency to forget about you when you all go out together but it’s not a huge deal. It’s not like they do it purposefully, you all get a little drunk is all.
“Not always,” you argue.
“Yes, always,” he’s not interested, especially since he knows the truth, “Why did you go out tonight anyways? You don’t even like clubbing that much.”
You don’t tell him the whole truth; you had been intending to get laid. Having a good one-night stand was something you were hoping would help with your stress levels. Your vibrator hasn’t been cutting it lately and with Kenshi away you thought tonight would be the perfect time but after his unexpected return and that creepy guy, you’re happy it didn’t work out.
You settle for a half truth, “I was bored and lonely, plus this week sucked,” you push off his chest and look up at him.
He snickers down at you and teases, “Miss me that much?”
Maybe it’s the small amount of alcohol swimming in your head but you don’t even try and deny it, “Yes.”
He scoffs at you, “Go to bed, you need to sober up more.”
You shake your head at him, “I don’t wanna sleep, you’re home now, I wanna hang out with you.”
“Go hang out in your bed,” he counters.
You’re quick to say, “Only if you join me.”
“You’re annoying,” he comments.
You pretend to be really hurt as you ask him, “So, you didn’t miss me at all?” His expression is stoic, he’s completely unreadable, it’s even worse with the blindfold. “You’re hurting my feelings here, Ken doll.”
He doesn’t like that, “Don’t call me that.”
You groan and throw your head back, “You don’t let me call you anything.”
His brow raises, “You could call me by my name?”
You jeer at him, “Boooo, boring!”
“You’re impossible to deal with,” he groans and walks into the kitchen.
You follow after him, “I think I’m entirely possible actually.”
He ignores you and fills a glass with water, he hands it to you once it’s full, “Drink that.”
Your face pulls up at him but you take the cup and drink it, “You’re quite crabby tonight.”
“I am annoyed,” he replies simply.
You speak into the rim of the glass, “Why are you annoyed, Ken doll?”
“I was worried about you,” is all he says, no further elaboration. Though it’s not really needed, you know he gets a little bit concerned when you go out with those friends.
“Awe, you worry about me,” you poke at his face, trying to lighten his mood.
He groans and his head rolls back, moving away from your prodding, “You should go to sleep.”
“Fine but not because you told me to,” you place the glass in the sink, “I am choosing to go to bed because I am tired.”
“Mhm,” he hums at you, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
You walk off down the hall to your room, calling back to him, “If you’re lucky.”
.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚
When you wake up it’s late morning but at least it’s still morning, small wins. Kenshi isn’t home when you wander around looking for him, you shrug off his absence and have a shower. You feel grungy from last night and find yourself wishing you had showered before bed.
By the time you’re clean and ready for the day, Kenshi is home and in the kitchen, “I got you a coffee,” he nods at the to-go cup on the bench.
“Thank you,” You reach over and take it.
He asks you, “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine, I hadn’t drank that much last night,” you stand idly, watching him sip at his own coffee. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not… but he seems annoyed, well more specifically, he seems annoyed at you. “Are you mad at me?”
His reply is sharp, “I’m not mad.”
“You seem mad,” you insist.
“You’re gonna make me mad,” he retorts, his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, “I’m not mad at you, I just… don’t like when you go out while I’m away.”
“I’m always fine though and I rarely go out as it is,” you’re trying to make him feel better but you don’t think it’s working.
He doesn’t reply but his mouth pulls up in a scowl and he grumbles a sound of acknowledgement.
You walk around the counter and shimmy between him and the bench, so you’re directly in front of him, “Why is this worrying you so much?”
“You worry me and it’s not like you have a great support system when you go out,” he isn’t wrong, which is somewhat bothersome.
You pat his shoulder, “You need to stress less, It’s all good, Ken doll.”
He leans forward, his hands rest on the bench either side of you, effectively caging you between him and the counters, “Don’t call me that.”
He’s being weird, you don’t know why he’s so worried about you all of a sudden. He’s always been ‘protective’ over you but that always felt more casual, this feels a bit out of the blue, “Why are you so worried about this? You’ve never been so concerned.”
He frowns at you, “I’ve always been this concerned, I’ve just never said anything.”
“Oh.” It seems he has reached a sort of breaking point.
He tries asking you again, seemingly knowing you lied to him last time you answered, “Why did you go out last night anyways?”
He can’t see you but you shy away anyways, your eyes look away from him, “I told you last night.”
“No, you lied last night,” his head tilts at you slightly.
How he manages to know, you aren’t sure. It’s become an annoying talent of his, knowing when you’re lying, “I don’t know what you mean.”
He leans the smallest bit closer, “You are a poor liar.”
“I’ve never lied a day in my life,” you lie.
He doesn’t move or say anything, from how exposed you feel right now, you could swear he can see you. It feels like he’s staring you down… and it’s working.
You groan at him, “Kenshi, it’s not a huge deal, I went out to have fun and maybe… get laid,” you trail off, feeling embarrassed before adding, “but things didn’t work out that way.”
He’s completely unreadable right now, he doesn’t have a single tell, “You went out last night for a one-night stand?”
You’re facing him properly again, “Yeah but then no one really caught my eye and that guy was grabby and the night was ruined, plus you were home so I’m glad I didn’t bring anyone back.”
“Is that what you meant by ‘you were lonely’.”
Your face grows warm and you want to squirm into a heap on the floor, why is he asking so many questions, “Well… yes and no?”
His fingers grip the counter a little tighter, his frown deepens, “What would you have done if I were home?”
You aren’t sure what he’s asking, “I don’t–”
“–Would you still go out to the club or would you have asked me?” He clarifies.
You think you know what he’s asking now but you want to be clear, “Asked you what?”
He’s quick to reply, wanting you to catch on quicker, “To sleep with you–”
That doesn’t seem like it’d bode well for your friendship, “I don’t think that’s really–”
“–Cause I’d do it, in a heartbeat,” he’s resolute, completely certain.
You’re at a complete loss for words, he’s just told you he’d sleep with you and you’d think he was just teasing you if he wasn’t so steadfast. He shows no signs of joking and you have no idea how to reply to him.
“Stop playing around,” your tone is nervous, you’re trying to give him an out.
He doesn’t take it, “Princess, I’m being so serious.”
Your knees feel like they might give out, he’s flirted with you before and even then it had an effect on you. To have him in front of you, telling you he’s seriously willing to fuck you, is going to kill you. The nickname isn’t lost on you, usually when he calls you that, he’s teasing you by calling you delicate or sensitive, the change in context makes your heart skip a beat.
“Kenshi–”
“–Would you let me fuck you?” He’s unmoving, waiting for your answer.
A shiver runs down your spine at the low timbre of his voice, it’s not like you’ve never considered it, you just never thought he was interested, “Now?”
A large, wicked smile grows on his face, “Do you want me to fuck you right now?”
He’s crude and it’s arousing you, he’s always been blunt but this is different, you’ve never shared a moment like this with him, “Would you?”
“I would, like I said, in a heartbeat,” his leg slots between yours, pinning you closer to the kitchen counters.
He’s effectively worked you up and made you comfortable enough to ask, “Then… could you? Please?”
His smile is evil, ecstatic that you’ve asked, “Of course I could, princess,” one of his hands moves to your hip, holding you. “First, I have a yes or no question for you.”
“Okay…” You’re hesitant, you don’t know what he’s going to ask.
His leg slots higher, thigh pressed to your cunt, “Did you feel the need to get laid because your little vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore?”
You gasp, both at his question and the sudden contact, “How did–”
“The walls aren’t all that thick, princess,” the hand on your hip encourages you to lightly rut into his thigh, “Can hear you sometimes.”
You feel beyond embarrassed knowing he’s heard you getting off, “It wasn’t enough”
“No, I bet it wasn’t,” he chuckles at you, “You got so fuckin needy you were gonna ask a stranger to fuck you, good thing I came home, hmm?”
Your hips grind down onto his leg, the stimulation shocking you. Your panties are well and truly drenched at this point, “Kenshi~”
“I’ll fuck you well, princess, I’ll give you what you need,” he leans down to you, his lips brushing yours, “But first, you have to take it.”
He takes your lips in his, unoccupied hand reaching up to hold your face, moving you how he pleases. You whimper into him, his tongue licks into your mouth. It’s hot and messy, he’s kissing you like he’s starved of you and it’s making you lightheaded. His hand paws at your hip before slipping into your pants, he reaches behind and grabs a handful of your ass. You moan into him, surprised by his rough touch.
When he pulls back, your lips are connected by a string of saliva, evidence of how messy he kissed you. Your mind is fuzzy and you whimper at him, mind filled with so many thoughts of him and his mouth. His thumb rubs over your mouth, spreading the mess more than cleaning it.
He hums at you in consideration, “Come with me,” he says, as he pulls you behind him into the lounge room.
You can’t help but stumble slightly, your legs wobbly from his lips. You feel stupid right now, you’re able to form thoughts but they don’t feel like your own. The only ones that do feel like yours are the ones imagining how he’d look tongue fucking you, or how he’d look when he cums.
He stops in front of the couch and then suddenly pulls his shirt off, you’re gobsmacked by the suddenness, “Undress,” he tells you, “Keep your panties on though.”
If you were a weaker person, even by just a little bit you would have fainted on the spot, “You’re bossy,” you mumble as you shimmy your pants off.
Kenshi undresses completely and sits on the couch behind him, his cock hard and resting against his abdomen. He’s patiently waiting for you to finish undressing, “You have no idea.”
You feel awkward, standing in front of him almost completely bare. He spreads his legs wider and you stand between them, patting his thigh he says, “Come on, don’t be shy, straddle me, princess.”
He’s doing this on purpose you could swear, you feel so hot in the cheeks and shy. He’s making you feel nervous and so horny. He’s working you up in a way that no one else ever has, “You say embarrassing things,” you comment.
“I’ve not even started,” he pats his thigh again, “Hurry up, got me aching for you here.”
You sit down on him and straddle either of his thighs, you’re holding yourself up on your knees, your hands reach out and hold onto his shoulders. One of his hands holds your hip, while the other runs over your panties, feeling how you’ve soaked them.
He groans at how wet you are, “Fuckin hell, all this because I kissed you?”
His teasing alone could make you cry, “Don’t be mean–”
“–I’m gonna be mean to you, princess.” His hand slips into your panties and through your folds, your fingers dig into his skin, a sigh passing your lips at his touch. “Gonna have you crying on my cock by the time I’m done with you.”
He plays with your cunt, fingers slipping through your slick folds. His cock twitches against his stomach, precum leaking from his tip and smearing itself against his skin. You mindlessly move your hips back and forth against his fingers, seeking more from him.
His hand pulls back and you whimper at him, he laughs, slightly amused at your neediness and slips your panties to the side, “Alright, sit down and take what you need.”
“Yessir,” you joke but his cock jerks in response and you smile to yourself at his reaction.
You take his dick in your hand and he chokes on a moan, you stroke him slowly, your hand collecting his mess of precum and spreading it over his length. Getting him slick with himself, he groans at you, his abs tense at the feeling of your smaller hand on him.
Hovering over him, you position his tip at your entrance, not pushing down but holding him pressed to you. Your cunt leaks on the head of his cock and he moans, his hands grip your hips, “Trying to let you do this yourself, princess but if you don’t hurry up… I’m gonna stuff you full and I don’t care if it’ll hurt.”
Your pussy jumps at his threat and he flops back onto the couch, his head hanging back on it, “You’re gonna kill me, you’re so fucking… wet and warm,” he’s mumbling mostly to himself.
Slowly, you start pushing down on him, the stretch is a lot, especially since it’s been so long since you last had sex. That and Kenshi may be the biggest you’ve attempted to take – not that you’re going to tell him that. You pull back and press down again, trying to fuck yourself open on the tip of his cock.
He groans under you, his brows pinched, thinking of anything he can other than how goddamn tight you are. He wants you to do this yourself but his patience is about to tear into shreds, it feels like it’s actively being put through a shredder. His thumb moves to your clit and rubs tight circles into it, trying to get you to relax enough to take him.
You whine at him, your hand on his shoulder gripping him tight. Taking a deep breath, you sink further down onto him, finally taking the tip and a little less than half of him. Your cunt quivers around him, throbbing. You feel like you could cry, the way he fills you is overwhelming and already so satisfying.
Your hand leaves his dick and holds onto his other shoulder, when you look at him, you can see how he’s clenching his jaw tight. His fingers dig into your hips, he’s trying so hard not to slam into you until you’re completely full. You’re gripping him so tightly, your pussy leaking down his shaft, you’re so warm and soft and he has a primal need to have you fucked full of him.
You slip further down him, gasped moans leaving you as you incrementally sit down, “Kenshi~”
He hums at you, his hands move up and down your body, gripping you anywhere he can reach, memorising you with his hands, “I said before, you have to take it.”
You understand now what he meant; he wants you to fuck yourself on his cock. He’s not going to help; he’s going to make you take it and you already know, it’s not going to be as good as if he were to just fuck you.
You go to complain, “It won’t–”
His hands grab your tits, playing with them, “–Won’t what?” He encourages.
You’re breathless, his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples and if it weren’t for your hands holding you up, you would’ve collapsed onto him, “It– uh– won’t feel as good.”
He smiles big at you, “I know.”
You whimper at him and in an attempt to get revenge, you slam the rest of the way down onto him. He moans loudly in shock; his arms wrap around you and tug you into his chest.
He speaks into your skin, “Holy fuck– nnghhf– You’re so fucking~” He can’t help how he holds you down and grinds up into you, “So wet~ bet you’re gonna be fuckin creaming all over my cock– nngh~”
You can only whinge into him, your slightly drooling onto his skin, feeling incredibly stupid at this very moment. His cock filling you so well, the stretch very welcome. You want to fuck down onto him but he’s holding you tight. His own thoughts lost in how your tight cunt is clutching him, he needs to grind into you right now, and you’re not going to stop him. Not that you want to.
He’s trying to collect himself, his head resting against your chest, he moves to the side and bites into the skin of your breast. It shocks you and your cunt clamps down on him, he groans into your skin before pulling back. His chest heaves up and down, his head thrown back on the couch, hands back to resting on your hips again.
“Fuck– alright, fuck yourself on my cock now, princess,” his voice is strained, laced in arousal.
You lift yourself up, beginning to ride him, the slow drag of your walls on his cock have Kenshi twitching inside you. He’s starting to doubt his ability to hold on to control while you fuck onto him, already borderline pussy drunk.
You bounce up and down his dick, it feels so good but it’s not enough, you want him to fuck you, you want to get railed, “Kenshi~ I need you –hah– to please –nngh– fuck me.”
“Cum first and then I’ll –hah– fuck you,” his head is lulled back, only focusing on the tight clutch of your cunt.
The room is filled with slick slapping noises, your pussy leaking into his lap. The lewd sounds have your face growing hot, your soft moans furthering your embarrassment, you can’t keep them in though, they slip from you before you even register that it’s you making those noises.
Kenshi grunts, “Making such cute noises, princess,” his abdomen muscles tighten and twitch, “Always make such –hah– cute sounds, can hear the way you whine when you’re fucking yourself –mmph– can hear the slick sounds of your cunt, God, you’ve got such a wet cunt, drive me mental –nngh–” He’s babbling almost incoherently, his comments only further your arousal, more slick leaking from you.
The longer you ride him, the more frustrated you get, you’re so close to the edge but can’t seem to get yourself to fall off it, “Kenshi please, help.”
Despite his ravenous need for you, he smiles evilly and says, “No.” You shed tears, actual tears at your frustration, a sob gets caught up with your moans and he smiles wider, “You crying about it, princess?”
“No,” you sniffle out.
He grabs your face and his thumb runs along your cheek, feeling your tears, “God you are, fuck.” His cock jerks inside you.
You continue trying to get yourself off, your orgasm floating just beyond your reach, Kenshi seemingly takes some pity on you, his thumb rubs into your clit. You switch from bouncing to grinding, grinding his cock into you, your heart stutters in your chest and you moan out his name.
Your cunt pulsates on him, your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, you collapse into him as you finally cum on him. Tears fall from your eyes and onto the skin of his shoulder as you finish. Kenshi groans at the vice like grip you have on him, his hand helping you to grind into him, riding out your high.
“There you fuckin go,” he practically growls at you.
He doesn’t give you a second to come down, he’s immediately fucking up into you, both his hands on your hips, moving you up and down his dick like a sex toy. His hips slamming up to meet your cunt on your way down. He groans more freely, getting lost in the feel of you.
You’re fucked dumb, essentially. Only able to drool and cry into his shoulder, moans and whimpers spilling from you. Sounds that Kenshi relishes in, loving how vocal you are, needing the sounds to make up for his lack of sight.
“You should come to me from –ngh– now on, if you wanna get fucked,” his words slur together slightly.
“Uh huh,” you agree easily, even if you have a hard time forming complete words.
He continues, “You gonna let me fuck you how you need, mmm? Have you creaming for me whenever you want?”
“…Yes.”
His chest vibrates with a growl, “How about when I need it? Gonna let me fuck your tight little cunt whenever I need it, princess?”
“Whatever you wan,” you mumble out, focusing mostly on the heavy drag of his cock against your walls, of the force he drives into you with.
He chuckles darkly at you, “You’re real fuckin agreeable when I’m stuffing you full of my cock,” he purrs, “Where’d that teasing nature of yours go, mmm?”
You hum at him noncommittally, not having an answer for him.
“Probably wherever your brain is, you’re fucked completely dumb right now, huh?” his tone is amused, enjoying immensely how cock drunk you are for him, “Guarantee no one else would make you feel this good, princess.”
As much as you want to refute that, you know he’s right. You’ve never felt this fucking good during sex, or this full. You’re creaming around him, white ring at the base of his cock. Your stomach is fluttering, already so close to cumming again. You feel so far gone; eyes rolled back in your head. Cunt gripping onto him, holding on for dear life. With how wet and sticky everything is, you may have to buy a new couch.
Kenshi can’t help but whine as he gets closer to finishing, “Can’t get over how slick you are, you’re fuckin– you’re sucking me right back in –nghh–”
You gasp against him, “Kenshi~ I’m gonna–”
“Go on, fuckin soak me, finish all over my cock again,” his hips slam up into you harder, faster, “God, please, fuck– wanna feel how fucking tight you grip me again, wanna hear the little whimpers you let out, finish on me again, princess,” his words are grit out from behind his teeth, trying like hell to hold off his own orgasm.
His nails bite into the skin on your hips, he’s starting to growl out whines next to your ear and they sound so delicious, your mind swimming with them, committing the noises to memory. He fucks into you a few more times before you’re clamping down on him and cumming so hard you see white, tears falling freely from the force of it.
Your pussy spasms on his cock, the feeling has Kenshi moaning loudly before he’s suddenly cumming with a bitten back whine, his cum pumps inside you, coating your walls. He has cum so much it leaks back down his cock and into his lap, your panties are thoroughly ruined, soaked in so much cum and slick.
You stay stuffed full of him, barely conscious and clinging to him, you’re dazed and lost in how good you feel after finally getting fucked well.
Kenshi’s arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, “Better?”
“Mhmm,” it is better, you feel so content right now.
He presses his lips to the side of your head and asks, “Not gonna go looking for one night stands again are you?”
You mumble out, “Would you even let me?”
He laughs before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “No, swear on my life your cunt was made for me.”
You snicker at him, “Whatever you want.”
“I should fuck you more often, you’re significantly less annoying after a good dicking,” he jokes… you think.
“You love it.”
He laughs lightly at you, not willing to agree verbally but he does enjoy your teasing. That might just be because he enjoys you though.
A quiet lulls over the pair of you, both holding each other close and coming down from your respective highs.
You remember something and you ask him, “Why did you ask me to keep my panties on?”
“I wanna keep ‘em, could be handy to have when I go away,” he says blasé, unashamed.
You groan at him in disgust but you can both feel the way your cunt lightly flutters on him. Thinking of him using your panties to jerk off arouses you more than you wish it would.
Kenshi laughs knowingly, “I’ll let you watch.”
.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚
A/N: I hope you enjoyed !!! Like I said, not my best work but I had to purge the Kenshi brain rot before doing anything else <3 My inbox is open for thoughts or questions but I am not taking requests at the moment, I have too many 😭 Anyways, I hope you all have a good day/night !!!
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hi lovely !! idk if your requests are open or not (if not feel free to just ignore this🤍)
okay so !! bi-han x fem!reader (or gn!)
maybe bi-han and the reader do not like each other (LIKE at all) and are always bickering/making snarky remarks at each other but maybe the reader sees bi-han hurt and turns soft on him, cleaning his wounds ect while also still making sarcastic and snarky remarks at each other? (maybe smut but if not that’s okay as well 🫶🏻)
My requests are open! And I am very happy to receive requests or any messages in general! I love your idea, I just hope I did it justice <33
Bickering
Wc: 3.7k
Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, grinding, dirty talk, mentions of injury, I think that’s it!
The man makes you mad, Bi-Han that is, you can never seem to get along with him long enough. You try and create openings to better your relationship with him, but they always seem to fall flat, and you both end up at each other’s throats. Living at the temple and helping Liu Kang as an advisor of sorts, unfortunately, means you are regularly exposed to Bi-Han and his less than stellar moods. The man is unbearable, and you’ve tried so hard to tolerate him for Liu Kang, but he could put in some effort to respect you. Dear God, the man has the manners of a, well… there is no comparison, he is mannerless and rude.
Some people might disagree with you, but that just means they haven’t actually spoken to him before. Even his own brother Kuai Liang gives you sympathetic looks when Bi-Han starts having a go at you for things, that frankly, you were not even involved in. Today is no different, Liu Kang, Kuai Liang, Tomas, Bi-Han, and yourself are currently in the war room. Considering your next moves regarding a small group of ‘rebels’, they’re just some people throwing a fit and attacking the Lin Kuei. The whole thing is more annoying than it is daunting, Liu Kang has offered support, which means that you have offered support.
Bi-Han rolls his eyes dramatically, “Terrible, your plan is… terrible.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose in response, you’re getting tired of this. This is like the sixth plan he’s shot down; it is the first plan he has called terrible though. Probably because it was your plan.
“Maybe you should think up your own plan then, instead of shooting down all of ours.” You’re sharp with him, usually you wouldn’t snap back so quickly but today you’re tired, hungry, and sick to death of his entitlement.
“I thought you were here to be helpful; I would not have asked if I had known how bad your plan would be.” He doesn’t even look your way as he insults you.
You can’t help the massive eye roll he invokes from deep within you.
He grunts in your direction, “don’t roll your eyes at me, think of something useful and I will be pleased.” Then, because he can’t help himself, he adds, “Surprised, but pleased.”
A large groan is pulled out of you in response, “ahhhhhh! oh my god, stop being such a dick and make a plan, and then leave, preferably for ever.”
“I think, you would miss me.” where he got that idea, you have no idea, probably the same place he got that massive ego he drags around with him.
You make a gagging noise, “I am sorry, but you’re fully deluded by your own ego.”
He side eyes you with a knowing glance, what he thinks he knows, you aren’t sure, like you said, the man is deluded.
“Mhm, why don’t you become useful and think of a worthwhile idea, that or go make some tea.” He’s amused, you can tell in his tone, he finds himself hilarious.
“Why don’t you turn in for the day? I think you might be sundowning in your old age.”
“I am not that much older than you!” He’s turned to you fully, getting closer to you. You touched a sore spot, you guess.
“If we’re lying to each other, then sure.” You shrug your shoulders at him.
You’re both engaged in an intense stare down, both pissy with each other, it always ends this way. Both so annoyed with each other you end up glaring and hoping for the other to walk away. Usually, because you’re the bigger person, you will walk away but not this time, you’re standing your ground.
Your idea was good, and he knows it, he’s just pissed he didn’t think of it first. The group is small and they’re camping not far from the Lin Kuei’s base, the only trouble is getting to them before they can realise and either, kill themselves, taking anything they know about their orders and plans with them, or kill the suspected hostages they have. The situation is an upsetting one to be sure but it’s not a particularly difficult mission.
They’re only being so cautious because this group is being especially bold, but they’re stupid. They were spotted days ago, the only thing they have going for them is their audacity. The answer, to you, anyways is obvious, but you’re also not particularly emotionally invested. In fact, right now you’re bored and still hungry.
Liu Kang breaks the stare down up, ever the mediator, “Okay, I think that’s enough from both of you.”
A hand on your shoulder has you turning your head to the side and seeing Kuai Liang standing beside you, “I’m sorry about him.” He nods his head to Bi-Han.
“Do not apologise on behalf of me, I am not sorry,” He huffs out at his brother.
Ignoring Bi-Han you reply directly to Kuai Liang, “I am used to it.” You pat his hand on your shoulder in assurance.
You turn towards Liu Kang, “I trust I am not needed here any further?”
“No, you may go, thank you for your input.” He replies, his eyes also sympathetic.
Walking away you give a thumbs up to the group and when you lock eyes with Bi-Han you stick your tongue out at him, scrunching your face up in his direction, he raises an eyebrow at you in response.
As you continue towards the door you pass Tomas on your way out and he looks at you like you’re a kicked puppy. You give him a pat on the chest and smile on the way out. Bi-Han’s brothers are two of your favourite people so your disdain for Bi-Han himself is kind of hilarious to you, in a ‘the universe is one big joke’ kind of way.
❆˖°
You enjoy your time with Liu Kang, but you aren’t really an advisor; you think it’s more of a glorified assistant kind of a role, but you love it all the same. And though he doesn’t look like it, Liu Kang loves to gossip, to a certain extent anyways. He is adamant that it is not gossip and is just him keeping you informed on topical events occurring within the temple and amongst the people that could be relevant to you, but that is literally what you call gossip.
But his penchant for keeping you informed is how you know Bi-Han didn’t use your plan but spent almost all-day agonising over what he should do next, he was indecisive but had decided he wasn’t using your idea. You get satisfaction from knowing it took him longer to think of a plan solely because he refused to use yours.
“Try not to look so happy about it when they get back, I am sure he does not need you being glib after a mission that could result in casualties.” Liu Kang tells you; he’s basically telling you to have some decorum.
“If it were anyone else, I would not be feeling this deep sense of glibness.” You add, “Plus I am not that big an asshole, I genuinely hope all goes well, I won’t even say anything when he gets back.”
You sincerely don’t plan on saying anything to him about his plan, you want it to all go well. But just knowing that he bent over backwards thinking of a ‘better’ plan made by himself is really vindicating for you, internally.
“It would be better if you both could get along, he will be here more frequently, after I gather my champions of Earth Realm.” He reminds you, it’s not the first time he has brought this up.
“I am aware, and I have really tried but he’s sooo grumpy and mean. You know how much of a delight I usually am! It is literally just him.” You’re whining at him a bit.
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, he finds you amusing, “Maybe you two clash because of a different… underlying reason.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” You don’t really know what he is implying but you don’t like it, “we clash because he sucks and is rude.”
He chuckles a bit at your sulking, “Well, if things go well, they will be back this afternoon or evening.”
It’s been a few days since the meeting in the war room and the boys have been gone for two of them. The timeline checks out, assuming all goes well on their end.
You nod your head in reply to Liu Kang, “sooo, lunch?”
“Fine, but I am not making it this time,” is his reply.
“Ughhhhh, fine.” You wanted him to make it, “only if you make the tea.”
“Alright.” He’s shaking his head at you, but you take the small victory.
❆˖°
The evening air is nice, a cool breeze freely flowing as you walk through the temple. You couldn’t sleep, the guys didn’t come back in the afternoon or early evening like you originally suspected they would. And you’ll admit it, you are a little concerned, for all of them, unfortunately. You are aware of how skilled they are but you can’t help but stress a little bit, you’d feel uneasy if Liu Kang was gone and you know he is more than capable.
You pace past the front steps of the temple for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last hour, and then finally, you see them walk up the steps. You feel a sigh of relief come from you at seeing them.
“oh, thank god,” you whisper out.
All three of them walk up to you, both Tomas and Kuai Liang put their hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a small smile. You sag with your relief at seeing them, it feels a little dramatic, but they usually are on time, compulsively so.
“I’m glad you’re all alright.” You tell them.
Bi-Han grunts at you off to the side but you ignore him, “It all went well, but we’re probably going to turn in for the evening.” Tomas informs you.
Nodding your head at the pair of them, “All good, I just wanted to see you guys get back safely.”
Bi-Han has already walked away from the three of you, but he’s oddly not walking towards his quarters.
You’re brought back to the two men in front of you when Kuai Liang says, “The mission was successful, but it wasn’t… smooth, Bi-Han’s in a bad mood over it.”
“Maybe you could talk to him, cheer him up?” Tomas adds.
You make a face at that, “I don’t really think I would be the best person for that.”
Tomas smiles a little, “I don’t know, I think he likes you; I mean he actually talks to you.”
“Yeah, but he’s an ass when he does talk to me.” Is all you can reply with.
They both share a knowing look between the two of them, a secret brother communication happening right in front of you, rude.
Kuai Liang breaks the moment of silence, “We are going to turn in for the night but thank you for worrying, good night.”
“Alright, I’m just glad you came back safely, get some rest.” You smile politely at them, and they both walk off towards their chambers. The interaction was quick but you’re just grateful to see they’re okay.
You consider for a bit if you should follow after Bi-han, an internal argument occurring. Your relationship with him at best is strained, so you aren’t sure it should be you going to talk to him and offering comfort. Well, you suppose if you cannot offer comfort, you can at least give him something to focus his anger at.
Letting out a large sigh, you turn around and follow after where Bi-Han went, as you walk through the temple you realise, he went in the direction of the medical room. There are no doctors here or anything, but they have basic medical kits kept in that room.
The pace of your steps increase to get to the room quicker, if he got injured why wouldn’t he say anything, god he is such a stubborn, loud mouthed, egotistical –
Your internal ranting is cut short as you get to the room and see him sitting in one of the chairs shirtless. Using his mouth to hold a bit of suture, trying to thread the needle with one hand, while simultaneously trying to keep pressure on the wound in his side with his other.
“What do you want?” Venom in his voice that would hit harder if he wasn’t mumbling around a piece of string.
You sigh at him, “Let me help.” Tentatively, you move closer to him.
He grunts at you, “don’t need your help.”
“You’re being stupid, just lemme help stitch you up,” placing your hands in front of him, you’re waiting for him to give you the needle and suture.
He stares at you for a moment, sizing you up before yielding and placing them in your hands. You look around for an extra chair, pulling it in front of him. As you sit down you shuffle the chair close to him, your legs between his spread ones.
It occurs to you now; just how large he is compared to you. Pushing the thought to the side, you put the needle and suture on the small table beside you, and instead begin looking through the first aid kit for something to clean the site with. You find a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol, it’ll do, you think.
You nod your head in the direction of his wound, signalling him to remove his hand. He does so and you warn him before you begin cleaning it, “this is gonna hurt, quite a bit.”
“Mhmm,” he has a scowl on his face.
“Was just trying to give you a warning.”
“I’ve been stabbed before, I know what to expect,” he’s being short with you.
You’re too tired for his attitude, and as much as he annoys you, you don’t like seeing him physically hurt.
He sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling of the gauze on his skin, but other than that, silence falls over the room as you begin cleaning the area, you’re trying to be as gentle as possible while also attempting to adequately clean it. The whole thing is a lot more intimate than what you’re used to.
Grabbing fresh gauze you place it over the stab wound, “hold this for a second.”
His large hand places itself over top of yours and it makes you feel warm, you pull your hand out gently and move back to the needle and bit of suture.
Your hands shake as you try to thread the string, Bi-Han’s eyes are watching you closely, “this is possibly the most abysmal attempt at threading a needle I have ever witnessed.”
You roll your eyes at him, “shut up, I’m trying to help you here, don’t bite the hand that feeds you and all…” You trail off, placing your hands down for a second before taking a deep breath.
“Mhm,” is all he says.
You shoot back quickly, “You were not doing any better than me,” attempting to thread it again is successful.
You shoot him a spiteful smirk in response to your success and he rolls his eyes in response. With how often he rolls them, you’re surprised his eyes aren’t at the back of his head.
Leaning forward again you ask him to remove his hand, and you begin carefully suturing at the wound. It isn’t serious, and it doesn’t take too many stitches to close up.
It’s all over fairly fast, and it’s helpful that Bi-Han has what seems to be an amazing pain tolerance as he sits stoically for you throughout the whole thing.
Grabbing another piece of gauze and some medical tape, you cover the stitches and look up at him. Both of your faces close to each other as he looks down to you at the same time, you take in a sharp breath, before leaning back and looking away from his eyes.
“All done, it wasn’t that bad but next time, you should just ask someone for help.” You tell him.
“Would’ve been fine.”
You turn back to look at him, gaze scrutinising, “in these situations, usually the person who received help would thank the provider of help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he shrugs you off.
“Arghhhh, how am I meant to put up with you for, god knows how long, when you can’t even manage a single thank you after getting my help.” You stand up to walk away from him, exasperated with his audacity.
His hand reaches out and grabs your forearm, “thank you, I guess, I mean I would have done better.”
From this position you’re looking down on him, “you’re unbelievable.”
“What? I said thank you!” He looks annoyed but he doesn’t get to be annoyed because you’re annoyed.
“What do you mean ‘what’? you immediately undid the ‘thank you’ by telling me I did a bad job!”
“I did not say you did a bad job.” He states simply.
“I am going insane; you are driving me insane.” You’re shaking your head at him.
The hand on your forearm drags you down, face closer to his now, “you’re the one driving me insane.”
“How??? I have repeatedly tried to reach an olive branch out to you, and I just stitched you up! I can’t believe I worried about your well-being.”
“You worried about me?” He asks.
“I did,” you confirm.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I just did. It’s not like I hate you, I don’t want you to die. I care if you live.”
You’re so annoyed at him, is it such a foreign concept to him? A person wanting him to be okay, uninjured.
His eyes are intense as he looks at you, faces so close now you can feel his breath against yours. You aren’t sure why you do it, it doesn’t even feel like it’s you who does it, but you move forward that extra inch and place you mouth on his. Kissing him.
He doesn’t react straight away, and you pull away, “I– I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” You feel embarrassed.
You go to move away but you don’t get far, both of his hands come up and grab your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His lips take your breath away, his thumb pushes into the hinge of your jaw, pulling your mouth open. His tongue is invading your senses, making you dizzy.
He doesn’t pull back from you, instead he starts grabbing at you, pulling you into his lap. You’re sat on top of him now, thighs spread over his. The shiver that rolls over your body can’t be helped when your heat makes contact with his crotch.
As he continues kissing your breath away, with you sitting in his lap, you feel him moan into your mouth. You realise, you’ve absentmindedly started grinding down onto him. He pulls back from you, head dropping to your chest.
His hands grab at your hips, and he slowly starts to drag your clothed cunt against his covered length. A small gasp of pleasure leaves you as he presses you down harsher against himself.
“Mmm, you’re a needy fuckin mess,” he hums into your neck.
His words effect you in a way you aren’t proud of, “shuddup.” Is all you manage at him, nowhere near malicious enough for him to actually shut up.
“You gonna cum in your panties hmmm?” he asks you, teasing you cruelly. “Gonna cum in the lap of the man who drives you insane?”
You shake your head at him, telling him no. He chuckles at your disagreement, full of himself.
Both of your hands reach out and grab onto his shoulders for leverage, his hands on your hips still encouraging you to grind down onto his cock. Small suppressed moans and whimpers leaving your lips.
He bites your neck, and it has a gush of slick leaving your cunt, a gasp pulling from you.
“Bet you’re so fucken wet right now, leaving a wet patch on my pants. Messy little thing.” His dirty talk is making your face hot.
“Bi-Han, I – ngh – need you–”
He cuts you off, “–I know you do,” you groan at him, he knows that isn’t what you were going to say. You were going to tell him to shut up again.
One of his hands leaves your hips and reaches behind you, threading into your hair, pulling you back by it. He takes the opportunity to bite and suck marks into your neck, it has you squirming down onto him.
“mmm I can feel your cunt fluttering on me through your panties,” he noses at your neck, taking in the smell of your skin.
His words are so filthy, you’re going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. You hate how much he’s getting you off.
The hand on your head trails back down your body, reaching its previous placement on your hip. Then both his hands reach around to your ass, he pulls your cheeks apart and it has your pussy spreading on him more.
The feeling overwhelming, you keep rutting down into him, so close to finishing. You look down to his lap, you’ve left a large wet patch on his pants. His hard cock straining harshly against the material of his pants.
Your hole briefly catches on the head of his cock, so close to penetration and so far. He keels over at the feeling, a moan coming from him in response. The moan he let out spurring you on.
“Bet you’re so fucken close, aren’t yah? Go on, cum in your panties.” He lifts his hips slightly to grind up into you.
His words and actions have you cumming, moans coming from your mouth, you bite your lip to keep them quiet. You’re shaking in his lap from your orgasm, it’s the best one you’ve ever had, and he didn’t even fuck you. After shocks thrumming through you as you come down, your panties feel so wet.
He pulls your face back and plants a wet kiss on your mouth, “such a good girl, there’s your fucken thank you.”
❆˖°
A/N: Is it hot in here or is it just me? I would’ve liked to have made the smut longer, but I am running on little to no sleep lol. Either way I hope you enjoy the story and thank you again to anon for your request <33
Pairing/s: Kung Lao x Fem!Reader x Raiden
Warning/s: NOT PROOFREAD, (18+) SMUT like juicy pure smut, voyeurism, 69 position, cunnilingus, blowjobs, handjobs, making out, afab anatomy (u got a hairless coochie), p in v sex, multiple positions, dom!reader, sub!characters
Word Count: 6.2k
Summary: You wanna try getting into a dominant role for once with Kung Lao and Raiden.
Author's note: oh my god finally posted this akdhsdahdj they're both so breedable i wanna see them shaking and whimpering
you were one of madam bo's waitresses in her teahouse, a favorite of hers actually since you were kung lao and raiden's childhood best friend and one of her trainees. the three of you were her students, training in martial arts and such until liu kang found you─well, only the two boys. you politely declined the god's offer, telling him you weren't interested in it and that you're place was with madam bo.
however, madam bo took your "no" as an offense and just couldn't accept it as your answer since she had spent her entire life training you for this moment. she told you that it would be best if you three were never apart, that your limits would go above and beyond if you were training together. kung lao immediately agreed with her and told you, "we're Fengjian's Fiercest, remember? we're inseparable."
raiden nodded, "you know we can't do this without you, (name)." he put his arm around your shoulder while smiling at you.
the friendly pressure from the people you care about around you really gave you some kind of confidence boost, especially liu kang's words of encouragement that you had the potential skill and drive to become one of earthrealm's defenders. so you agreed as kung lao's yells of excitement echoed in the walls of the teahouse.
what could go wrong? was your initial thought when you accepted liu kang's proposal, but you did not expect so many bizarre things to happen when you started this new life; training and learning different techniques with a bunch of new faces, discovering new secrets of both earthrealm and its rival realm outworld, battled alternative versions of yourself, and even saved your timeline.
it was a long and exhausting experience, but you prevailed alongside kung lao and raiden. they were truly the rocks that kept you grounded with them, always being there to support and protect you if needed.
this entire phenomenon had you three growing much closer to each other than before, and it was both in the sexual and romantic aspects of the relationship. in all honesty, in all of your past relationships, you were one to be timid and in a submissive position that had you growing a desire to be the one in control for once but you were still a bit too hesitant to do so with kung lao and raiden. however, it was only when you three started this life that every day you're there to witness the progress they've been making along the way and how mature they were becoming─well maybe only for a bit with kung lao, his ego continued only to grow─that had you strongly reeling into the desire once more.
it was no help that they also started to physically change; both kung lao's and raiden's muscles in their arms had become slightly more defined, there was a time you caught a glimpse of their shirtless toned bodies and their delicious pecs kissed your eyes. it had fed your dirty fantasies to the brim. you would love nothing more but to just litter their chests with lipstick stains, bite marks, and scratches while hearing them begging and whimpering.
just thinking about it didn't progress you into what you wanted so you finally decided to take action and go bold into this relationship.
with raiden always being the one who would leave you breathless as he floods your senses with the waves of his words, you instead took in the reigns of making flirty comments as well; such as starting to mutter dirty things closely into raiden's ear and just walking away without looking back at his wide-eyed state and completely flustered.
with kung lao, he had a tendency of grabbing and groping you when he was coincidentally in the same secluded areas as you were in, amused by the way you would squeal and slap his arm with a pout. so you took a bolder path than him and got really touchy─and i mean "accidentally" brushing against his nether regions; sometimes while sitting during meal times, he'd jolt in surprise as he felt your foot rubbing all over his leg to the surface of his crotch. the way he shifts and fidgets in his seat has raiden or liu kang asking if he was alright and kung lao would just softly cough and awkwardly smile in response. on the other hand, kenshi and johnny definitely knew what was going on but decided to simply playfully side-eye each other then to you and laugh amongst themselves at your unbothered expression.
surprisingly, this newfound bravery of yours lasted for months. never seem to want to stop now.
soon enough, these antics of yours had them wanting more; for instance, they'd (mostly kung lao) occasionally pull you away from whatever you were doing to spend a brief moment with you exchanging kisses all over each other's faces─you would purposely avoid their lips to lure out a satisfying whine from their throats.
however, it just wasn't enough. you needed to completely dominate them, to permit themselves to give in to their submission for you, to push them past their facade.
leading up to this moment where you now admire your dolled-up self; a gorgeous dark-colored underwear set hugs your figure with a matching sheer robe to complete the outfit (thank you johnny cage). your confidence boosting through the roofs of your senses and a surge of excitement rushes into your veins as you settle yourself on the rose-petal-covered bed and wait for the arrival of your two lovers.
you had told them that you needed something repaired in your room and that it was a bit too complicated for you to figure out alone, a pathetic excuse in all honesty but you couldn't think of anything that didn't spoil the surprise you had for them. they agreed to help and said that they'd come to you after their training today. it was probably a see-through plan and you could at least expect kung lao to realize it sooner or later.
the familiar voice of your favorite razor-brimmed hat boyfriend and their footsteps touched your ears sending a wide anticipating smile to decorate your face in an attempt to hide in your eagerness to just aggressively pull them in.
"did you see the look on tomas' face? i have once again bested him, and he wasn't even holding back this time." kung lao boasted, his victory in the duel with the shirai ryu second-in-command feeding into his ego yet again.
"you're improving on your moves kung lao, im proud of you." raiden complimented him as they neared your bedroom door.
kung lao smirked and laughed, "it's just the natural gift of greatness that the great kung lao blessed upon me."
raiden playfully rolled his eyes, "next we're gonna focus on your humility." holding your door handle, and sliding the wood to the side to enter.
"pfft, i'd like to see you tr─" he gets cut off as he bumps into raiden's back, "what are you doing?"
the thunder lad doesn't respond, only pulling kung lao from behind to stand by his side to get a clearer view of what caused him to stop in his tracks.
their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as they took in and swept their attention to your very stunning figure displayed on the bed. was there a special occasion that they forgot? was it their anniversary already? that didn't seem right though, raiden would've remembered something as important as that which brought him to an internal panic, while kung lao
“are you just gonna stand there and leave the door open for everyone to see—well i mean i don't mind if that’s your thing.” you teased as you pushed yourself off the bed to stand.
they are instantly snapped back into reality and scrambled to close the door-locking it in the process.
once the door was secured, they were slowly lured back and approached you with eyes in a haze, drinking in the sight of you; mesmerized with the way the undergarments complimented the color of your skin and how it accentuated the alluring shape of your body. they have always truly believed that they were favored by the elder gods in some way, to be granted an opportunity to have a goddess like you in their lives still seemed so unreal to them. but here you were, bringing them to their knees. in all honesty, if this is all merely a dream, they are begging to all the gods of earthrealm and outworld not to wake them.
you reached your hand out to both men, which they took immediately, and pulled them close to you.
raiden and kung lao were on their knees with their bare upper bodies skillfully tied in thick rope and arms restricted behind them. they were aching with such desire and need as they watched your lustrous bare body strut its way toward the big bed.
you finally turn to them, kung lao lowly groans at the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and lonely. he wanted to break out of these constraints, grab you, and engulf them in his mouth or, better yet, squeeze his warm cock between them while you suck his tip.
raiden, on the other hand, was in a trance. Mesmerized by the holy sight occupying the sacred place between your thighs─so bare, delicate, and, he bets, soaking wet with want. he could feel himself salivating as the surface of his tongue started to tingle and his throat went dry, urging him to crawl between your legs─to satiate his thirst. earthrealm's champion was always so keen on being of service to others, so in this scenario, he would gladly be your personal pleaser. just sit on his face and he's absolutely content with life.
"awww, look at my precious boys." you cooed them, plopping down on the edge of the bed and leaning back on your arms, "do you want me?"
they both quickly nodded while whimpering out a breathless yes and please.
you giggled before dropping your body flat onto the mattress. the sexual tension was so thick and steamy that the pants they were wearing started to feel extremely tight. all they could do was watch as you feel yourself up, your hands all over your body, the way you rubbed your thighs in front of them─kung lao let out a particularly pornographic loud moan as his arms harshly tugged and fought the ropes.
"... (name)..." he begged, "i need you."
you then placed your hands on the back of your thighs and spread them wide open.
"oh...by the elder gods," raiden whimpered, drool beginning to form in the corners of his mouth.
kung lao hurriedly shuffled his way closer to you, head resting on the softness of your inner thighs, "please allow me, (name). i'll give you so much." his eyes were darkened with lust and his voice began to crack.
you let out a soft chuckle before putting your middle and ring finger into your mouth, sucking and soaking it with your saliva then trailing it down to your waiting hole and smearing them with the wetness of your juices.
kung lao's tongue darts out for a moment to lick his dry lips before parting his lips in thirst, "let me taste you, (name)."
silence is his reply as you sit up on one arm, legs still spread, and take your drenched fingers out of your pussy and into his mouth, which kung lao immediately wraps his lips around. he groaned at your delectable taste, savoring the tingles running across his tastebuds. his eyes fluttered close as the wet muscle in his mouth licked every inch of your fingers, kung lao desperately needed more─he needed to have his mouth french-kissing your pussy folds and leaving hickeys along your beautiful breasts.
he was about to dive deep between your legs, but as if you could read his mind, you quickly and gently pushed him back down with your foot.
"that's as close as you can get to tasting me for now, lao." you smirked, "raiden goes first since he was obedient and patient."
kung lao whined and groaned as he kept tugging on the ropes of his restraints. you let out a displeased 'tsk' causing him to cease immediately and shuffle himself away from you in regret. could you blame him? you were absolutely irresistible. could you blame him for wanting to feel your beautiful skin against his? kung lao just wanted to show you how much he desired you.
your eyes shift to the thunder lad still on his knees with lidded eyes filled with lust, entranced by the glistening wetness of your pussy. you could see the tent in his boxers, the size of him got your insides doing cartwheels. raiden may be humble and all innocent but gods he sure was packing a whole lot.
"come to me, raiden." you beckon him forward.
raiden slowly stands up before making his way towards your seated figure, eyes still fixed between your legs.
once he was close to you, you stood up from the mattress and reached your hands out to trail along his muscular arms. he sighed at the contact and fought the urge to moan, he was absolutely getting turned on by every second. eyes not faltering from yours, he felt your hands finally find his tied-up wrists and then skillfully unknotted the ropes as they hit the floor with a soft thud noise.
you grab his hand and pull him close to your body, both your bare upper bodies connecting each other, he's in ecstasy for a moment before you push him back on the mattress. he falls with a soft oof and puts himself upright through his elbows.
you let out a soft giggle, standing between his parted legs, "you are always so cute raiden. you like being my good boy." you then sat on his lap grinding your bareness against the material of his boxers, feeling his hard-on.
raiden lets out a strained groan, the wetness of your hole seeping through his fabric. gods, he wants to taste you so bad.
he was such a vision under you, writhing and a submissive expression plastered on his face as your grinding never ceases its speed.
you then pulled his upper body up towards you and wrapped your arms around him making him automatically engulf your middle with his strong arms, your breasts squished in between and nipples graze his chest. he doesn't wait a moment to smash his lips against yours, the sudden action made you squeal in delight before kissing him back with the same aggression.
he sensed your arms disappear around his neck and felt your hands on the waistband of his boxers. knowing where this would go, raiden willingly grabbed the clothing for you and fumbled them down his legs. bareness of your sexes comes in contact that causes both of you to hiss in pleasure, you quickly detach your lips from his and push his upper body back down the mattress, "scoot yourself up the bed for me, my darling."
wanting to keep you satisfied and praising him, raiden nodded and dragged himself to lie his entire body on the bed. he watches as you turn your body around, your full ass right above his face, and the sight of your pretty pussy greeting his eyes, "we're gonna find out what else that mouth is good for."
raiden has been waiting for this moment.
the moment you lowered your aching wet pussy onto his open mouth, he immediately wrapped his arms around your thighs with his hands gripping your ass and hungrily buries his tongue deep inside your slick walls. the sudden action almost made you fall off of him but you regained your balance and began to grind against the spine tingling licks from his tongue.
"hmmm, fuck... slow down raiden~" you moaned loudly, head lolling back as he sucked your folds, "yes, my love, you're such a good boy for me." you mewled.
that made raiden groan deeply into your cunt, the vibrations hitting every nerve in your body causing you to lean back and grip his head closer to your heat. he licks and kisses on whatever his tongue gets on, spreading your juices into the surface of his taste buds─drinking every drop you give him.
you try to focus on anything else to avoid cumming in an instant, then your eyes land on his hard aching cock laying on his stomach, its precum dripping onto his skin─the delicious sight made you smirk. you spat into your hand and bent your upper body towards his lower, your spit-covered hand grabbed his cock giving it a few pumps to which raiden let out an inaudible moan and tensed the muscles in his hips.
you let out a sultry giggle before giving his tip a few kitten licks. the salty flavor warming on your tongue running through your bloodstream, tingling until everything was buzzing and turning you on even more; encouraging you to spit out more saliva all over the length of his cock, your tongue flattening itself out to trail against a prominent vein on the shaft. you could feel raiden's actions on your pussy faltering as you continue to torture him with your muscle.
his hands unable to keep themselves still, they trail across every part of your lower body, palming your ass cheeks, massaging your thighs, gripping your waist─he loved your everything, he felt like he was in the presence of a goddess. raiden would worship the ground you walked on.
raiden's train of thought comes to an immediate stop when he felt you finally wrap your lips around his swollen tip then slowly started deepthroating and swallowing every inch of his cock. you continued to engulf him until you felt it kiss the back of your throat, "w-wait, (name)!" you heard him let out a choked groan which caused you to let out a satisfied hum. you started a slow pace of bobbing your head up and down his slick cock alongside your hand that was wrapped around where your throat can't reach.
raiden's mind was in such a haze and on the verge of blacking out due to the overwhelming pleasure. he would jerk his hips into your throat whenever your tongue swirled around the vein on his shaft and the slit of his tip, listening to the way you make soft choking sounds around him. he even almost forgot about your dripping pussy pulsating and open for him, raiden needed to make you cum before he did.
you glanced at kung lao the sight almost making you cum right there; his cock was swollen, his precum leaking so much, the tip red and twitching as his eyes never leave the sight of your bodies and the mouth on his best friend's cock.
he lets out soft pants and whimpers, still tugging on the restraints, "(name), im sorry. please, I'll be good. i promise." he cries, starting to dry hump the air.
you give nothing but a wink before going back to deepthroating raiden's cock with your eyes still fixated on kung lao's shivering figure. he let out a frustrated sound as he watches the cock disappear in your mouth, moans escaping your throat, he was so close to cumming as you suddenly popped it out and repeatedly tapped the tip on your tongue.
while you torture kung lao with your actions, raiden was beyond ecstasy. he didn't stop eating you out─nor did he ever want to stop─he was breathless and his face was drenched in your wetness yet his tongue did not cease its actions along your slick folds and swollen clit.
you feel the pressure of your climax approaching and you squeaked in pleasure while unconsciously starting to grind hastily into his mouth to bring yourself closer.
the lightning lad groaned, also close to exploding his load inside your mouth, and to avoid it raiden solely focused on burying his face as deep as he could to allow his tongue to explore your gummy walls.
suddenly everything stops, he feels your weight leave his face and his cock is hit with a cold breeze, raiden could do nothing but helplessly feel his climax fading.
he whines, "no, please (name), im so close. sit back down, i desire more of your taste please." he tries to snatch your hips back but you quickly turn your body around.
raiden let out a loud moan as he watches you position your dripping swollen pussy hovering over his cock. he shudders at the sensation of you teasing the tip─brushing along the folds of your sensitive pussy, and finally slowly sinking down his shaft, the thickness and length stretching you out so good. your saliva and his precum acting as lube for your cunt to smoothly swallow such a size.
"want you to cum inside me, raiden." you moaned out, finally feeling his cock fully snug inside you─which almost made raiden cum, "breed me good, yeah?"
that got raiden to drift to unholy places; the image of your hole filled with his seed had him nodding eagerly, not even caring about anything anymore, his focus was now solely on making sure you kept every drop of him inside your womb.
you start to move your hips up and down his cock, and loud moans escape you both as the pleasure rapidly returns. raiden sucked in a breath and tightly shut his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of your warm walls hugging his cock so good.
he lets out a soft whine as you place your hands flat on his sweaty chest, using all your strength to bounce your ass harder onto his thighs.
the sounds of skin slapping on skin and breathless whimpers filled the room, and the only words that he could audibly muster were please and faster while he bucked his hips upward, raiden whined as your pussy clenched and squeezed around his cock.
he trailed his brown eyes down to your bouncing breasts, the way they jiggled made raiden dig his fingers deeper into your flesh. by the elder gods, he couldn't take it anymore and was absolutely pussy drunk that he may just cum any second.
"you're absolutely divine my love." raiden managed to breathe out, "so perfect."
you took your hands off his chest and placed them on both sides of raiden's head making you continuously bounce harder and grind on his cock. raiden then bent his knees, trailed his hands to grip the flesh of your asscheek, and placed his feet on the mattress to fuck himself up into you deeper.
this caused you to tilt your head back as the volume of your moans increases, his balls repeatedly slapping against your ass every time he pushes himself up overstimulating the nerves running across your skin.
"oh fuck raiden... yes!" you mewled out, the pressure inside you starting to snap as his cock's tip hits your sweet spot over and over again.
"please, my love... come kiss me." raiden begged, wrapping his arms around your middle and bringing your head down close to his panting face, sweaty chests touching and grazing each other. you grip his head between your hands, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs, before connecting your lips into his; teeth and tongue automatically finding each other. his hips slightly faltered but regained its rhythm as you grind your hips to chase after that feeling.
from the floor, kung lao twitched and struggled, absolutely hypnotized as raiden gripped your asscheeks and spread them wide for kung lao to helplessly watch his best friend's cock shaft slide in and out deep inside of your soaking pussy. with the sight of both your juices building up around raiden's base, kung lao wanted nothing more but to get a taste─even just a little lick.
he continues to hump the air, matching raiden's thrusts. he could feel himself wanting to orgasm but he could only do it inside you, kung lao needs to feel your wet walls sucking every inch of him while he pumps you full of his seed.
you detach your lips from raiden's to stare at his deep brown eyes filled with adoration and desire, his gaze so soft and sweet you could melt from its warmth. how could such a man have such a connection with your soul like this? how could he tug the strings to your heart so well? why is he so infuriatingly beautiful? you practically could see his pupils turn into hearts dancing across the features of your face, taking every fragmented second of this moment to a whole until your entirety─your every skin, strand, fluid─of a being was completely engraved in his mind.
raiden would rather forget his very own name and give up his god-given powers before he ever forgets you.
before you get to say anything, he smashes his lips against yours again─addicted to the softness and plumpness of it─while wrapping you tightly connected to his body as his hips increase its speed settling with such an aggressive pace against yours. you loudly moan in his mouth, tongues intertwined, feeling his cock kiss the sweet spot over and over again, the orgasm in you getting too close.
raiden's hips begin to lose its rhythm in an instant, groaning around your mouth before stilling deep inside you. the heavy spurts of his cum inside you made you pull away from his lips to let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits at the same time; eyes so teary, body trembles as the shocks run through every nerve, and your juices mix in with his flowing down around his cock.
you are both breathless and covered in sweat, the post-orgasmic feeling engulfing your senses.
"you truly are a wonder, raiden." still lost for words and recovering from such passion.
"i could say the same for you, (name)." he moved one of his hands to cup your face and lovingly caress your cheek causing you to lean into the warmth of his palm.
almost forgetting about your favorite razor-brimmed hat man on the floor, you sit up on raiden's hips─cock still inside, mind you─to look back on kung lao's restrained state.
his head is hung low and his toned stomach decorated in the white spurts of his own orgasm, cock still twitching and red; he got off just watching you two fucking.
"awww, poor lao." you cooed while smirking, "does he need me?"
kung lao's head shot up and quickly nodded. he's desperate at this point, he doesn't even care about anything else. all he needs is you and your body pleasuring his. he's still pent up despite exploding his seed all over himself, such a waste he thought. kung lao watches you slowly lift your hips off raiden's─which raiden lets out a deep groan feeling his now limp cock slip out of the tightness of your walls─with his load still occupying your hole and could feel it trailing down your inner thigh causing shudders to erupt all over your skin. gods, how much did this man pump inside you? you then turn to face kung lao who eagerly shuffles his way to you.
you ploppped yourself down to sit on your knees on the edge of the bed, "i've neglected you enough, lao. could you please untie him raiden?" you cradle lao's head in your hands and lightly peck his forehead.
raiden sits up next to you to give you a soft kiss on your shoulder before standing to walk behind kung lao's kneeled figure and bending down to unknot the rope around his wrists.
the moment kung lao felt his restraints loosen, he quickly pulled his arms up and grabbed you by the waist.
you let out a squeak but was cut off by kung lao's lips smashing into yours.
with a gentle push, your lips disconnect from his, "you truly love misbehaving, lao."
"you should know that i am not the most patient man, especially when it involves you." he gave you a smug smirk then placed his lips on the length of your neck, nipping and kissing every inch of the skin.
from over kung lao's shoulder, you watch as raiden pulls the chair from the corner to the center of the room and sits comfortably. he leans back with his thighs spread and cock resting on his abdomen, still wet from your mixed cums, while he fixes his gaze on both of your connected bodies.
your attention goes back to kung lao who whispers in your ear, "i desperately need your mouth around me qīn."
it was a subtle beg but of course, he wouldn't reveal that too easily. the way his hands roam your backside and slightly grind his hips into you, kung lao just wants his way with you.
he watches as you give him a grin before going on all fours with your face directly in front of his still-hardened cock. you stared up at him through your lashes, eyes filled with lust and mischief, he felt his knees buckling at the sight of you like this. he held back the urge to shove himself into your mouth and fuck your skull, he had (little) self-control. kung lao lets out a deep sigh as you dart your tongue out and circle the tip of it around the tip of his cock, gathering up the juices that leak out.
you pull away and wrap your hand around him, starting with such slow strokes, "you taste so good lao." desire and a sultry purr dripping in the tone of your voice.
kung lao moans at the warmth of your hand, giving small thrusts as you pump him.
letting out a giggle, you decided not to prolong it any longer. you kiss his tip before finally engulfing his entire length into your mouth. kung lao immediately moves one of his hands to thread his fingers into your hair. the tightness and wetness urges him to break that he suddenly shoves the entirety of his cock into you in a single thrust making you gag, and to his surprise, you place your hands onto his thighs and deepen him further into your mouth until you felt it hit on the back of your throat. tears prick out onto the corners of your eyes as you stare from beneath your lashes at kung lao's breathless state; his mouth parted letting out soft pants and his eyes fixated on your lips wrapped so well around him. as enticing as your breasts look, kung lao knew that he did not have enough within him and was nearly reaching his edge to be able to fully indulge between them.
"f-fuck, so good, qīn." kung lao was absolutely in ecstasy, "gonna move now, yeah?"
with a small nod from you, kung lao starts moving his hips back and forth─slowly pushing in and then pulling himself out, cock glistening in your saliva as he runs his tip across your lips before shoving himself back in. he does this a couple of times, watching such a cock drunk expression on your face every time he pulls out and the way spit drools out from the corner of your mouth─kung lao wished he had one of johnny's cameras to capture this moment, to keep stored this memory forever.
his hand has a firm grip on the back of your head, obsessed with the feeling of your throat convulsing around his cock shaft and tongue swirling the tip and underside of the shaft. lewd slurping and gagging sounds fill the room turning kung lao on even more and causing him to let out a loud groan then moving both his hands to grip each side of your head to increase the pace of his hips.
you moaned at the sudden change of pace desperately trying to take kung lao's needy thrusts.
"mmmmm such a perfect fucking throat..." the whimper in his voice did not go unnoticed, "so tight... oh by the gods─"
kung lao felt like he was just in one of his lewd dreams, to see and fully experience face-fucking his childhood crush didn't seem to register in his brain enough─thinking that someone as attractive as you would even give him this type of attention was impossible─you were just so out of his league. he was honestly waiting to wake up any minute now, but for now he'd savor this moment with you. hips now faltering, his orgasm so close to the edge.
you notice that his head was in the clouds again, the way he was mumbling to himself and his eyes shut tight. it was obvious as well that he was close to cumming but, you thought he deserved something better.
as kung lao continuously increased the pace of his hips and reaching for the edge he'd been desperately waiting for, he suddenly felt cold; he quickly opened his eyes and saw you pull away from his aching cock. with that, the pressure of his nearing orgasm fades from him causing him to whine in frustration.
"nononono...! qīn please, i was so close!”
“i don’t care, come fuck me already lao.” you fall back onto the mattress with your legs bent and spread.
as fast as he can, kung lao went between your legs and proceeded to rub his tip against the wet folds of your cunt—sending jolts of pleasure all over his body. your and raiden’s cum still mixed deep inside you, kung lao deeply groans as the juices seeped out and coated his entire tip. mesmerized by your state and close to exploding, he grabs his cock and inserts himself into your hole. the mixed cum easily sliding his thick shaft all the way in until his pelvis hits your asscheeks.
you bit your lip as you try to control and navigate yourself through the overstimulating pleasure that erupted throughout, you bet your walls were still molded into raiden’s cock shape because of how hard he fucked you. now, it was kung lao’s turn to absolutely wreck you from the inside out.
he settled for a decent pace, hands placed under your knees and pushing them close to your chest with his lidded eyes still staring at your connected bodies—loving the squelching sounds every time he thrusts deep into you—and keeping himself from cumming too soon.
“faster lao, fuck me faster please~” you moaned out with hands outstretched, signaling him to bend himself down to you.
he obliged without a second thought and shifted his arms to wrap around your middle, bringing your chest to his—squeezing each other impossibly close—and legs clinging around his waist. you quickly placed your arms onto his shoulders and gripped his head close to yours, feeling his teeth bite into your shoulder.
with such intimacy and lust thickening around you both, kung lao has his hips accelerating in a mind boggling speed that has you moaning uncontrollably into his ear and eyes traveling back into your head. at this point he’s also as sex-drunk as you; his thrusts were out of rhythm but he didn’t care, fucking you has been on his mind the moment he laid his eyes on you and he could finally realize and accept that this definitely wasn’t a dream, kung lao loves you to death and he’ll make sure you know he does.
your wet walls contracting around his shaft pushes him to pull away from your shoulder and aggressively push his lips into yours. tongues intertwining in a shower of exchanging saliva between your mouths, it was disgustingly hot and heavy that gave kung lao the final push.
with one final thrust, kung lao snapped his hips deep still as he groaned into your mouth and felt a warm heavy load filled you to the brim. he also oddly felt his abdomen soaking wet; when he breathlessly pulled his head away from yours to look down, he came to find out that you had squirted all over him. kung lao noticed how you trembled in his arms and an exhausted fucked out expression put on your face.
“gods, that was the most intense sex i’ve ever had.” you chuckled, laying yourself down to the bed.
lao smirked, “and you’re absolutely amazing, qīn. wanna go again?”
you lightly laugh, “easy lao, even i don’t think i have that much in me to handle you both at the same time again."
“you need some rest my love, let us clean you.” you look at raiden who now stands beside kung lao and has, what seems to be, a small damp towel in hand.
kung lao pulled out, grunting at the sight of all your cum leaking out, and pulled himself away for a moment, falling back onto the chair that raiden previously sat on. composing himself back to normal before picking up his boxers and walking out the door--telling you that he's gonna make a quick trip to the kitchen and prepare you some snacks and water.
you give raiden a soft loving smile, watching him wipe away the fluids around your nether regions, “you both always seem to leave me breathless every single time. i love you and kung lao so much.”
with raiden being raiden, he returned the affection with a kiss on the cheek, “as what we said before (name), you complete us. it’ll always be us three against the world if need be.”
A/N: this took too long im so sorry but i finally did it, my motivation to do things fluctuates and it be really annoying sometimes :')) anyways hope u enjoyed this and let me know what you think
synopsis: when liu kang confessed he wanted to watch his best friend fuck his girl, kung lao didn’t hesitate. now liu sits restrained in the corner, burning with shame and arousal as lao circles you like the smug predator he is.
genre: explicit smut (18+), established relationship w/ liu kang
warnings: cuckolding, light humiliation (consensual), restraints, voyeurism, possessiveness, heavy teasing, dirty talk, praise + degradation mix, oral + fingering (reader receiving), p in v, facial, hands free orgasm, reader is nervous but very into it
word count: 2.6k
requested by: anon
it had started innocently enough — or as innocent as anything could be with two shaolin champions falling hard for the same woman.
kung lao had wanted you from the moment he saw you. the cocky warrior had always had a thing for you, his teasing laced with something hungrier, something that lingered just a little too long in his glances. liu kang had felt it too, the same pull, a soft, quiet awe.
but in the end, when you chose liu, lao took it with his usual swagger, clapping his best friend on the back and joking about “the better man winning.” the attraction never fully disappeared, though. it simply… simmered.
then came the day liu kang caught kung lao staring.
you had been training hard in the courtyard, the sun beating down as sweat glistened on your skin. your training clothes clung to every curve, thin fabric molded to your breasts, your waist, the swell of your hips and the strong lines of your thighs. you moved with grace, completely unaware of the effect you were having.
liu noticed his best friend’s eyes locked on you with unmistakable hunger. lao’s gaze dragged slowly down your body, tracing every inch like he was memorizing it; from the way your chest rose and fell with exertion, to the damp cloth sticking to the dip of your lower back, to the flex of your legs as you kicked. there was nothing casual about it. it was raw, appreciative, and almost possessive.
instead of the flash of jealousy liu had expected, a strange, twisting heat curled low in his stomach. his pulse quickened. his mouth went dry. that night, alone in bed with you, the image refused to leave him. as he held you close, he kept picturing kung lao’s hands on your body — gripping your hips, sliding up your thighs, claiming what liu called his own. he imagined lao’s cocky smirk pressed against your neck, his mouth devouring you, and worst of all… lao fucking you deep and hard while liu was forced to watch every second of it.
the fantasy left him painfully hard, aching against your thigh, and deeply ashamed. how could he want this? how could the thought of another man, especially his best friend, taking you turn him on so intensely? but the shame slowly melted away, replaced by a burning, undeniable arousal that kept him awake long after you had fallen asleep.
weeks of quiet fantasizing followed. liu kang, ever the thoughtful and disciplined one, wrestled with it in silence while the images grew more vivid: you on your knees for lao, you bent over while lao railed you, your moans filling the room as liu sat helpless and throbbing in the corner. every time the thought returned, he grew harder than he’d ever been in his life.
finally, one vulnerable night, he confessed it to you while the two of you were tangled in bed. liu’s cheeks burned crimson as he stumbled through the words, voice barely a whisper. he told you everything — how he’d caught lao staring, how the sight had awakened something filthy inside him, and now the idea of watching his best friend fuck you senseless was consuming him ever since. his hands trembled slightly as he admitted how badly it turned him on, how he couldn’t stop imagining it even when he tried.
you listened, surprised but undeniably intrigued. the idea sparked a slow, curious heat in you too; the thought of two men you cared for so deeply, one watching, one claiming, all of it wrapped in trust and desire.
telling kung lao had been the most surprising part of all.
liu kang had approached him alone first, nervous but determined. when he finally managed to explain what he was asking, that he wanted lao to fuck his girlfriend while he watched, kung lao had burst out laughing, convinced it was a cruel prank.
“very funny, brother,” lao smirked, arms crossed. “you almost had me there for a second.”
but liu kang stayed serious, cheeks flushed as he insisted it wasn’t a joke. he told lao that you knew and you were okay with it. that you had talked about boundaries and consent, and this was something he genuinely wanted.
kung lao’s smirk slowly faded. his eyes widened as realization hit him. for once in his life, the cocky shaolin fighter was genuinely stunned speechless. then a slow, hungry grin spread across his face, bright and almost disbelieving.
“fuck… is it my birthday?” he’d laughed, voice rough with sudden heat. “you’re seriously offering me your girl? the woman i’ve been fantasizing about for months? and you’re gonna sit there and watch?” he ran a hand through his hair, looking like he’d just won the biggest tournament of his life. “shit, liu… i feel like i just hit the lottery. tell me when and where. i’m in. fuck, i’m so in.”
and now here you were.
the room was quiet except for the low crackle of candles and the soft rattle of the silk ties around liu kang’s wrists.
he sat in a sturdy wooden chair in the corner of the room, arms bound behind his back, ankles secured to the legs. his chest rose and fell in shallow, controlled breaths. those warm brown eyes were dark now, pupils blown wide as they tracked every movement.
kung lao stood in the center of the room, arms crossed loosely, signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. he looked at you like you were something he’d been starving for.
“you sure about this, pretty girl?” lao asked, voice low and rough. his eyes flicked to liu kang for a second. “your boyfriend looks like he might combust.”
you swallowed hard. your heart hammered against your ribs. you were wearing nothing but one of liu kang’s loose shirts, the one that smelled like him and barely reached mid-thigh. every nervous glance you stole at him made heat pool low in your belly.
liu’s voice came soft. “it’s okay, love. i… i want this.”
kung lao chuckled, dark and pleased. “hear that? he wants this. wants to watch me fuck his girl stupid.” he stepped closer, circling you slowly, like prey. “been thinking about your body since the day i saw you, you know. liu got to you first… but tonight?” he stopped right behind you, breath ghosting over your ear. “tonight you’re mine.”
a shiver ran down your spine. you felt exposed, vulnerable, wanted in a way that made your thighs press together. lao’s hand brushed your thigh, sliding under the hem of the shirt, fingertips tracing the bare skin of your waist.
“lao…” you breathed, half protest, half plea.
“shhhhh. look at him.” kung lao gripped your chin gently but firmly, turning your face toward liu kang. “look how hard he already is just from watching me touch you.”
liu’s cheeks were flushed dark. his lips were parted, breath coming faster. the front of his pants was obviously tented. he didn’t look away. if anything, his gaze grew hungrier.
kung lao’s smirk widened. “poor monk. all that discipline and he still turns into a desperate cuck the second i get my hands on his girl.”
you whimpered as kung lao’s other hand slipped between your thighs, finding you already slick. he groaned low in his throat.
“fuck, she’s soaked. you get this wet thinking about me, baby?” two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling but not pushing in. “or is it because your boyfriend is tied up and watching me play with his pretty pussy?”
your knees buckled slightly, but lao caught you easily, pulling your back flush against his chest. he finally pushed those fingers inside you, curling them just right. a broken moan left your lips.
liu made a soft, wrecked sound in the corner. his wrists flexed against the restraints.
kung lao pumped his fingers slowly, thumb finding your clit. “that’s it. let him hear how good i make you feel. bet he’s never heard you sound like this before.”
“he has,” you gasped, trying to be loyal even as your hips rolled into lao’s hand.
lao laughed, low and mean. “not like this he hasn’t.” he crooked his fingers again, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. “not while he’s watching another man finger his girlfriend right in front of him.”
you glanced at liu again. his eyes were glassy, lips bitten red. he looked completely lost — cheeks burning, chest heaving, completely entranced by the sight of his best friend’s hand disappearing between your legs.
kung lao pulled his fingers out and brought them to your mouth. “clean them. show your boyfriend how good you taste for me.”
you obeyed, sucking his fingers clean while staring at liu. the monk’s breath hitched audibly.
“good girl,” lao praised, then spun you around and kissed you hard. it was different from liu’s kisses, hungrier, more demanding, tongue claiming your mouth like he’d been waiting years for this. you melted into it, hands fisting his shirt.
when he pulled back, he glanced over at liu. “you still good, brother? or do you want me to stop before i bend her over and fuck her on your bed?”
liu’s voice was hoarse. “don’t stop.”
kung lao grinned like he’d won the tournament. “that’s what i thought.”
he walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, then pushed you down gently. the shirt rode up, exposing you completely. lao stripped his own shirt off, revealing the strong, defined body you’d only ever admired from a distance. his eyes never left yours as he shoved his pants down.
you couldn’t help the nervous whimper that escaped when you saw how hard he was.
“scared, baby?” he teased, crawling over you. “don’t worry. i’ll be nice… at first.”
he kissed down your body, slow and deliberate, making sure liu could see every lick, every bite, every mark he left. when his mouth finally reached your cunt, you cried out, back arching. lao ate you like a man possessed — messy, greedy, humming against your clit while two fingers pumped inside you again.
your head turned toward liu. he was straining against the ties now, eyes fixed on where kung lao’s tongue disappeared inside you.
“liu…” you moaned.
“i know, love,” he whispered, voice trembling. “you look so beautiful like this.”
kung lao pulled back just enough to speak, chin glistening. “hear that? even while i’m tongue-deep in his girlfriend, he’s still a pathetic sweetheart.” he chuckled and dove back in, sucking hard on your clit until you came with a sharp cry, thighs shaking around his head.
you were still panting when lao moved up, lining himself up at your entrance. he looked over at liu one last time.
“last chance to back out, monk.”
liu shook his head, eyes fever-bright. “fuck her. please.”
kung lao thrust in with one smooth, deep stroke.
you both moaned loudly. he was thick, stretching you in a new way that made your toes curl. he didn’t give you much time to adjust, his hips snapping forward and setting a punishing rhythm that had the bed creaking.
“fuck, she’s tight,” lao growled. “no wonder you’re so whipped, liu. this pussy is perfect.”
he fucked you harder, one hand pinning your hip, the other braced beside your head. every thrust drove filthy sounds out of you. you couldn’t stop glancing at liu, watching the way his face twisted with pleasure and jealousy and raw need as his best friend railed you.
kung lao noticed. he grabbed your chin again, forcing you to keep looking at your boyfriend while he pounded into you.
“tell him how it feels,” lao ordered.
“so good—ah— lao, fuck—”
liu let out a broken sound, hips twitching uselessly in the chair.
lao laughed breathlessly. “my poor cuck brother. bet you wish you could touch yourself right now.”
he shifted angles, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over until you were sobbing with pleasure. your second orgasm crashed over you hard, walls clenching around him.
“that’s it. cum on my cock while your boyfriend watches.”
kung lao groaned, fucking you through it before suddenly pulling out. he moved up your body with surprising speed, straddling your chest and fisting his cock.
“open your mouth, baby. tongue out. gonna paint your pretty face while your boyfriend watches.”
you obeyed instantly, dazed and panting, tongue sliding out as you looked up at him. kung lao stroked himself fast and rough, eyes dark with hunger. a few seconds later he cursed sharply and came hard, thick ropes of cum landing across your tongue, your lips, your cheeks, and dripping down your chin.
the sight was absolutely filthy.
a strangled, broken moan came from liu kang in the corner. his whole body jerked against the restraints as he came untouched in his pants, hips stuttering, a visible wet spot forming on the front of his clothes. his eyes never left you, flushed, marked, and covered in his best friend’s release.
kung lao let out a low, satisfied laugh as he milked the last drops onto your tongue. he glanced over at liu, smirking wide.
“ohhh, fuck… did you just cum in your pants, man?” he chuckled darkly, still breathing hard. “look at you. all that holy discipline and you couldn’t even hold it together. just from watching me bust all over your girlfriend’s face.”
liu’s head tipped back against the chair, cheeks burning crimson with shame and aftershocks. he was still panting, eyes glassy and fixed on the mess kung lao had made of you.
“pathetic,” lao teased, voice dripping with smug amusement. “my cum’s dripping down her chin and you lose it like a desperate virgin. bet that felt good though, huh? sitting there tied up while i claim what’s yours.”
you swallowed what was on your tongue, breathing shakily, and turned your head to look at liu. even completely wrecked and embarrassed, the love and raw arousal in his eyes made your chest flutter.
kung lao leaned down and kissed your messy lips once, possessive and lazy, before pulling back. he wiped a streak of his own cum from your cheek with his thumb and pushed it gently into your mouth. then his expression softened as he climbed off the bed and walked over to the chair.
“alright, come here, brother,” he said, voice dropping the sharp edge of mockery. his hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked the silk ties loose around liu’s wrists and ankles, rubbing the faint red marks with careful thumbs. “you did good. took it like a champ.”
liu’s legs were a little shaky when he stood. kung lao slipped a steady arm around his waist, supporting him without hesitation, and guided him over to the bed.
“there we go,” lao murmured, helping liu lie down beside you. he even grabbed a soft cloth from the nightstand and passed it to liu so he could gently wipe your face clean. “she’s all yours.”
liu curled into your side immediately, pressing his face against your neck with a soft, relieved sigh. his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close like he needed the reassurance. you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head while your other hand reached out to tug kung lao down with you.
lao hesitated for half a second, then stretched out on your other side, one hand resting lightly on your hip. the three of you lay tangled together, breathing slowing in the quiet room.
“you okay?” you whispered against your liu’s hair.
he smiled, warm and sated. “more than okay.”
kung lao let out a quiet huff of laughter, but there was no bite left in it. he pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to your shoulder before glancing at liu.
“still my brother,” he said softly, ruffling liu’s hair once. “even if you are a massive pervert.”
…Chris x Vampire!Reader… perhaps…maybe even a bit of chris being intimidated by reader because lets be real vampires can be scary… but she thinks hes so cute….🧛♀️
ps i like your writing and no pressure to write about this <3 have a good one.
Pairing: Chris x Vampire!reader
Warnings: explicit!, power imbalance, Chris being scared and horny, no blood, making out, hand job,
A/N: I’m sorry this is an old ask but I’ve been rewatching TVD so it got me thinking about this 😍 I love this idea!!
Chris makes a helpless little grunt into your mouth as you shove him back against the couch cushions. He’s so big, broad and soft over harder muscle, and you’ve crawled into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, hands fisted in the collar of his Weezer t shirt.
You’re kissing him like you’re trying to consume him, teeth clicking, your tongues sliding messy and wet, and he’s keeping up as best he can, stuttering, gasping, his large hands hovering unsure at your waist before gripping tight. You can feel him, the thick ridge of his cock straining against his sweatpants, grinding up against you every time you roll your hips down.
It’s the taste of him that does it. Sweet and salt and something unique to him, like energy drinks and anxious boy. You’re so hungry, but not for food… for him, for this, for the way he whimpers when you bite his lower lip a little too hard. Your gums ache, a sharp, sudden pressure, and when you pull back to suck in a shaky breath, you feel blood rush to your eyes.
You feel your fangs slip free, sharp and elongated, pressing against your lower lip. Your eyes are burning, pupils blown wide, the sclera flooding crimson.
Chris goes rigid beneath you.
His hands drop from your waist like you’ve burned him, and he presses back into the couch like he has anywhere to go, his chest heaving. His glasses are askew, fogged from the heat of your mouths, slipping down his nose. He doesn’t push them up. He’s staring at you with wide blue eyes, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“W-what—” he stammers, voice cracking. He looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes, and you see the exact moment fear overrides arousal. He recoils, his spine pushing further into the armrest, his hands coming up defensively. “Jesus—what the fuck—?”
He’s terrified and you can smell it on him now, sharp and delicious, cutting through the musk of sweat and precum. But his cock is still hard, twitching in his sweat pants, an obvious, desperate tent in the fabric. And his body doesn’t know what it wants, fight or flight or fuck, and he’s frozen, trembling… trapped prey.
You slow down, forcing your breathing steady, even as your fangs throb with every heartbeat pounding in his throat. His pulse is visible beneath the golden skin, jumping rabbit-fast.
“Hey,” you whisper, and your voice sounds softer, lower, resonant, vibrating with a predatory purr you can’t quite suppress. You shift forward on your knees, moving slow. He’s mesmerized, shaking, his glasses finally slipping down to catch on the tip of his nose.
You reach out with one hand, gentle, and cup his jaw. His stubble rasps against your palm. He flinches, then freezes again as you stroke your thumb over his cheekbone, soothing, petting.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” you murmur, leaning in close enough that your breath ghosts over his mouth. Your fangs are fully visible now, white and sharp, and you watch his eyes track down to them, pupils dilating. “I’m not going to hurt you”
Chris swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing against your touch. He’s shaking his head slightly, a frantic little denial, but he’s not pulling away. “Y-your eyes,” he breathes, voice trembling. “your teeth—w-what are you?”
Confusion swirls with panic in his expression. He really doesn’t know. he thinks maybe he’s hallucinating, or that you’re something out of one of his favorite horror movies. He’s scared, but he’s still hard, and the dichotomy is making him dizzy, making him grip the couch cushions until his knuckles go white.
You smile, soft and dangerous, and it must look terrifying with the red tinting your gaze, but you keep your touch tender. You trail your hand down from his face, tracing the column of his throat, feeling that frantic pulse under your fingertips. then lower, over his heaving chest, his soft stomach, until you’re palming his erection through his sweatpants.
He jolts, a full-body spasm, a shocked cry catching in his throat. “Oh—oh, fuck—”
“Shh,” you soothe, squeezing his shaft gently, feeling the heat of him, the wet spot already spreading at the tip. You stroke him through the fabric, slow and deliberate, watching his face crumple with confused pleasure. His hips buck up instinctively into your hand, even as he’s trying to shrink back. “Look at me, Chris.”
He does, looking over his glasses now because of how far they’ve slipped down, his eyes wet with the threat of tears. fear, yes, but also overwhelming, misplaced arousal. He’s so confused. So needy.
You lean in until your lips brush his ear, your fangs grazing the shell of it just enough to make him shiver, and you whisper, low and filthy and sweet: “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re too cute, baby. too pretty. I just want to play with you”
Your hand tightens around his cock, stroking firmer, and he whimpers, his head falling back, exposing his vulnerable throat. You can see the vein throbbing there, beckoning, and your mouth waters, but you restrain yourself. You just want him pliant, you just want him to be yours. completely.
“But you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” you coo, watching him nod frantically, lost in the sensation, fear bleeding into desperate, aching need. “you’re going to let me have a little taste?”
He doesn’t answer, just whimpers, high and broken, his hips stuttering into your grip, and you know he’s too far gone to run now.
A/N: starting out the holidays RIGHT i tell you 😤Kuai Liang is a freak and no one can convince me otherwise, fuck off—😭😭
Kinkmas Masterlist
The cabin was alive, buzzing with the kind of chaotic chatter only Johnny Cage could summon by shoving too many warriors into one oversized holiday getaway. Honestly, for a guy with the impulse control of a wet gremlin, the man knew how to pick real estate. The place looked like it had been ripped straight out of a luxury winter catalog: polished wood, soft lighting, giant windows showing the endless white outside. Cozy as hell.
Which would’ve been great if the weather didn’t decide to go full apocalypse mode. The snowfall had gone from cute flurries to 'the world is ending, sweetie' levels, piling up so fast you could practically hear it locking you all in. No one was going anywhere.
You were curled up on one of the plush couches, legs tucked under you, blanket engulfing you like a burrito that had given up on life. A warm mug of hot cocoa sat in your hands, the steam brushing your face while Kung Lao cracked some awful joke that somehow still had you laughing. Even Liu Kang had joined the festivities, insisting everyone needed a break for the holidays.
But even with the fireplace crackling and the room full of body heat and noise, you couldn’t shake the chill creeping under your skin. You burrowed deeper beneath the blanket, trying to pretend you weren’t basically a human popsicle.
Kuai Liang walked past just then, the warm smile he gave you melting more frost than the fireplace could. You returned it automatically, heart doing a little flip, and then—because you’re you—you hit him with the secret weapon.
The pout.
His steps slowed. His eyebrow rose in that flat 'what chaos are you about to unleash' expression.
You blinked up at him, all big eyes and tragic energy.
“I’m cold,” you whined softly.
Kuai Liang froze mid-stride like you’d just blasted him with a debuff. Typical. The man could stare down a fire god without flinching, but one pout from you and suddenly he’s running on dial-up. His brow arched as he eyed the way you were bundled up, clearly dubious. Still, he crouched beside the couch, his hand brushing your ankle under the blanket, warm and careful.
“You’re wrapped up like a dumpling,” he murmured, voice soft enough to thaw snow. “How are you still cold?”
You sank even deeper into your blanket cocoon, pout fully deployed. “Kuai… I’m freezing.”
He blinked once. Then again. The third blink was the kill shot: that subtle shift of his shoulders, the quiet sigh, that tiny resignation that meant he’d already decided he was giving you whatever you wanted. He always did.
Before he could say anything, Johnny’s voice burst across the room. “Don’t worry! Heating’s only kind of broken. Like, corporate-level broken!”
Kuai didn’t even dignify him with a glance. Years of Cage-induced trauma had left him immune. His focus stayed locked on you, steady and warm.
“Alright,” he said with a small, quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Move over.”
He slid onto the couch behind you, fitting his body against yours with obnoxious accuracy. The blanket barely covered both of you, so he tugged it into place, pulling you closer in the same motion.
Your toes brushed his leg.
He went rigid. Barely. But it was enough.
“Sorry,” you whispered, not even pretending to hide the lie.
“You’re not sorry,” he breathed, arm sliding around your waist and tucking you firmly against him. “Come here.”
You shivered when his warmth settled around you, instinctively molding yourself against him, soaking up every bit of heat he had to offer. His presence always did that to you—safe, steady, enveloping you like the world outside didn’t exist. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, the vibration passing through your back and straight into your bones.
You lifted your mug again, sipping slowly as your body thawed against him. Across the room, the crew had devolved into a chaotic round of charades, each attempt somehow worse than the last. You couldn’t help laughing at the disaster unfolding, watching Kung Lao mime something that was definitely not the word he’d been given.
You slumped further against Kuai without even thinking about it, pressing back into his warmth with lazy ease. His arm tightened around your waist in response, a reflex he probably didn’t even notice, before relaxing again. He dipped his head toward your neck, his breath brushing warm against your skin as he inhaled your scent. He kept his eyes on the chaos in front of him, chiming in occasionally with Liu Kang, who sat comfortably on the opposite couch.
When you finally finished your cocoa, you leaned forward to place the empty mug on the coffee table. The moment you settled back, Kuai Liang’s arms were already waiting, drawing you into the same protective, heated cocoon as before.
You melted right back into him like you belonged there.
Kuai was still deep in conversation with Liu Kang and Raiden, the three of them discussing something about weather patterns and travel routes like this wasn’t the most unhinged holiday gathering in history. You weren’t exactly listening. Hard to, when your brain had melted into a warm puddle thanks to the furnace of a man behind you.
You shifted again. Not even on purpose this time. Your muscles were finally warm enough to unknot, and now they wanted room to stretch, lengthen, roll out all the tension the cold had shoved into them. But moving meant peeling yourself away from Kuai’s chest, and that was just… not happening.
So you did the next best thing: you stretched in place.
A slow arch of your spine.
A tiny curl of your toes.
A subtle press back into him.
Kuai didn’t react at first. Maybe he thought you were settling deeper into his hold. Maybe he decided to be generous. Maybe he wasn’t paying enough attention—
No. He was paying attention.
Because the next shift was followed by the faintest grunt under his breath, the sound so quiet you might’ve imagined it. His fingers flexed against your waist, warm and grounding. You paused for a heartbeat… and then continued.
Your shoulder rolled against his chest.
Your hips readjusted.
Your legs stretched out, brushing his.
His arm tightened suddenly, firm, a silent command that you ignored with all the grace of a defiant housecat. He dipped his head until his lips hovered at your ear.
“You need to stop,” he murmured, voice low and deceptively calm.
You exhaled in a small huff, unbothered, and shifted again, trying to get your legs into just the right position beneath the blanket. It would’ve been completely innocent if you hadn’t simultaneously pressed your back against him, seeking his warmth in the most inconvenient angle possible.
His breath hitching was not innocent.
Kuai tried—really tried—to continue listening to Liu Kang, nodding at something the fire god said, but his focus kept snapping back to you every time you made even the smallest movement.
Another wiggle.
A soft adjust of your hips.
A little stretch of your spine.
He hissed under his breath, a sound that vibrated through his chest and straight into your back. His arm slid lower on your waist, fingers splaying, holding you still. But his restraint lasted all of three seconds before you shifted again, melting back into him with a soft sigh.
That was it.
He pulled you fully, deliberately, flush against him—like he was anchoring you in place. His mouth brushed your ear again, but this time his voice dropped, warmer, rougher, edged with something he was trying very hard to hide.
“…You really need to stop.”
His breath dragged across your skin, slow and heavy, betraying exactly how little he meant his own warning.
You went still for a moment, the shift in his voice catching you off guard. That faint roughness—barely there, buried under the calm—told you exactly how close he was to losing his composure. It made something inside you perk up, curious and wicked.
So you tested him.
A slow, careful shift of your hips. Barely a movement. Just enough.
Kuai’s grip tightened immediately, fingers pressing into your waist, breath warm and steady against your neck. A soft, lazy sigh escaped him, the kind that vibrated through his chest and into your back.
“…Don’t try me,” he murmured, voice almost languid, as if he wasn’t trying at all.
You hid your smile behind the blanket, mask in place, heartbeat quickening. Then you moved again—not with subtlety this time, but with intention. You pressed back slowly, deliberately grinding against the heat growing beneath the blanket.
Kuai hummed, low and deep in his chest, a sound that rolled through you like a quiet warning—and a quiet surrender. His body eased back into the couch, his hold on your waist loosening just enough to let you move as you pleased. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t even pretend to.
He kept talking with the others, voice perfectly even to anyone listening. But you felt the shift—the heat radiating off him, the subtle flex of his fingers, the way his length slowly swelled against you with every faint movement you gave him.
That low tone threaded through his words—the gravelly one only you ever heard, the one that meant he was composed on the surface and unraveling underneath, all for you.
And he let you keep going.
You kept moving against him, slow and steady, each drag of your hips sending a shiver up your spine. Heat pooled low in your stomach, your breathing turning shallow beneath the blanket. A faint blush warmed your cheeks, impossible to hide with how wound up you were getting. You were careful, controlled, every movement subtle enough to look innocent from the outside, but deliberate enough to make Kuai’s control slip, bit by bit.
His hands kept finding your hips in small bursts—tight squeezes, lingering rubs of his thumb, quiet encouragement disguised as steadying. Each touch made you ache more, made it harder not to let the need cloud your expression. You could feel yourself growing slick, dampening the inside of your clothes, and the thought of everyone disappearing flashed through your mind like lightning. If the room emptied for even a second, he’d have you bent or straddling him without hesitation. You knew it. He knew it.
Your breath hitched again, and you forced yourself to keep the pace slow.
A sudden uproar rippled through the room as Johnny launched into yet another theatrical disaster of a mime. All heads turned toward him—Kung Lao shouting guesses, Raiden trying to be helpful, Liu Kang visibly losing faith in humanity.
Everyone was distracted.
Kuai moved instantly.
His grip slid to your waist, guiding you forward just enough to create space. Quick, smooth motions—faster than you could process—had your pants tugged down beneath the blanket, a brief brush of cold air hitting your heated skin before he pulled his own down just enough.
Then he pushed inside you in one deep, silent thrust.
Your entire body tightened, a choked breath caught in your throat as he filled you completely. His hand pressed to your hip, grounding you, steadying you as he buried himself as far as he could go. The blanket shifted only slightly before he settled it again, hiding every movement, every angle.
He didn’t move.
He went still, perfectly still, like he hadn’t just seated himself inside you while the entire room erupted in laughter at Johnny’s performance.
His breath warmed your shoulder, steady but strained.
You clenched around him without meaning to.
And Kuai Liang held you there, fully connected, hidden in plain sight.
Your breath hitched at the sensation of him fully inside you, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs. Your lips parted around a moan you didn’t dare let out, eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming warmth. Kuai leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear.
“Go on, my flame,” he murmured, voice deep and heated. “Get yourself off.”
You began to move slowly, subtle shifts of your hips that created just enough friction to draw soft sparks of pleasure without drawing anyone’s attention. Every small motion pulled a response from him, his body tightening behind you, the tension rolling through him in controlled waves.
You clutched the blanket, dragging it higher to hide your face as heat bloomed up your neck. His grip settled firmly on your hips, steadying you, guiding you just a little — a quiet, dangerous encouragement beneath the stillness of his exterior.
He nearly gave in to the instinct to move harder, stronger, a single deeper thrust slipping through before he forced himself still again. His breath hitched against your skin, restraint trembling through him.
“So pretty for me…” he kept whispering, each word brushing your ear like a soft push deeper into the moment. His voice had gone low and warm, almost velvety, guiding you through every little shift of your body. “That’s it… just like that… mmh…”
The praise rippled through you, tightening your breath. Your body reacted before you could think, clenching around him in a pulse you couldn’t control. The effect on him was immediate — his restraint slipped for a heartbeat, hips jerking forward in a tiny, helpless motion that sent both of you trembling.
He steadied himself quickly, jaw tightening against your shoulder, one hand closing harder around your waist. The other remained anchored at your hip, thumb stroking slow encouragement, silently telling you not to stop. His breath came warm and uneven against the side of your neck, each exhale betraying how close he was to unraveling.
You moved again — slow, deep, intentional — letting the sensation build inside you instead of rushing toward the finish. Each subtle movement dragged heat up your spine, winding tighter, tighter. Your fingers curled in the blanket pulled up to your face, holding it like a shield as your eyes fluttered shut.
Kuai’s voice dipped again, softer and more strained now. “Good… that’s good… keep going.”
His composure was thinning, fraying in tiny cracks you could feel in the tension of his grip. His hips twitched with each shift of yours, barely-there reactions he couldn’t hide, the smallest sounds slipping into the space between your breaths. The room filled with laughter at Johnny’s antics, but all you heard was Kuai — his low murmurs, his uneven breathing, the quiet way he tried to hold himself together.
The pressure inside you spiraled fast, each subtle grind drawing you closer, the mix of tension and secrecy setting your nerves alight. Another slow movement, deeper this time, and your breath caught hard in your throat. You tried to steady yourself, but it snapped — that tight, coiled band inside you breaking with a silent rush. Your body tightened, trembling, eyes squeezing shut as the feeling washed over you in warm waves.
Kuai’s reaction came seconds later.
His breath faltered — a deeper exhale pushed through his nose — and his hands clamped firmly around your hips. You felt his restraint crumble in a single trembling moment, the tension leaving his body in a silent, shuddering release he held tightly in check. His forehead dropped gently to your shoulder, his inhale sharp, his exhale long and controlled.
Neither of you moved for a while.
You stayed molded against him, letting the warmth and the aftershocks melt slowly out of your muscles. His arms didn’t loosen right away; he held you close, grounding himself against the softness of your back. When he finally relaxed, a low chuckle rolled from his chest, tired and warm, brushing the back of your neck.
He pulled you closer — not for cover, not for secrecy, but for comfort — his chin settling lightly against your shoulder as though nothing unusual had happened beneath the blanket at all.
Your smile was small but impossible to hide as you refocused on the scene in front of you — Johnny still flailing through a charade disaster, everyone loudly arguing their guesses.
Hopefully, no one asked either of you to move anytime soon.
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Bi-Han turned, narrowly dodging the assassin’s blade. In a single motion he conjured an ice dagger and buried it in his attacker’s throat. The body hit the ground before the frost had time to fade. He spun to help you, only to find you had already dispatched your opponent with equal efficiency.
A quick scan of the clearing told him there were only a few enemies left.
Liu Kang had tasked Bi-Han with recovering a set of sacred scrolls stolen from one of the temple archives by a group of rogue assassins. Normally, he would have sent Kuai Liang or Tomas—but both were already on their own missions. The Grandmaster accepted the mission with his usual brand of silent resentment.
The last assassin collapsed with a wet gasp. You wiped your blade clean and glanced at Bi-Han. His expression didn’t change—of course it didn’t—but the faint rise and fall of his chest betrayed the effort.
“That all of them?” you asked, still high on adrenaline.
Bi-Han nodded once, scanning the treeline. “For now. Let’s make camp.”
You snorted. “Camp? There’s a village half a mile from here with actual beds. Unless you plan to spoon a snowdrift?”
His glare could have frozen time itself. “Very well,” he said, clipped and cool. “But do not expect comfort.”
The forest grew meaner with every mile. Wind slipped through the branches in thin, icy threads, and even Bi-Han’s breath began to frost in the air. You kept talking—about the mission, about how Liu Kang definitely owed you both hazard pay—but most of what you got in return were low grunts and the occasional sideways glance that counted as acknowledgment from the Grandmaster.
The cold bit harder the deeper you went. Snow gathered on your shoulders; your fingers stiffened around your weapon. Bi-Han noticed, of course he did. He didn’t comment, just lengthened his stride enough that you had to jog to keep up.
By the time the village appeared through the flurries, the wind had turned feral. Streets buzzed with townsfolk hammering shutters and hauling carts under cover. Lanterns swung wildly above half-frozen merchants shouting last-minute prices.
You trailed Bi-Han to the only inn with smoke curling from its chimney. The air inside smelled of damp wood and cheap ale. The clerk looked up, saw the Lin Kuei armor, and immediately stopped smiling.
“One room.” Bi-Han said, voice flat as sleet.
The poor man nodded so fast his hat nearly flew off. “O-of course, sir. The finest room we have.”
You didn’t think much of it until the door upstairs clicked open to reveal exactly one bed.
Silence stretched thin.
“…Huh.”
“…”
“I’ll just ask if—”
“It will suffice.”
You bit back a laugh and began unpacking. “You know, most people would say something about the mistake.”
He set his gear beside the wall, perfectly aligned, as if order itself could compensate for the lack of a second bed. “Most people are not Grandmaster.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your towel. “Fine, Grandmaster. I’ll take the right side. Try not to freeze the room while I’m in the shower, hmm?”
He didn’t respond, but the faint twitch near his eye betrayed some internal commentary.
When the bathroom door shut and water began to run, Bi-Han sat at the desk and unrolled a parchment. Ink bled steadily beneath his gloved hand as he recorded the mission’s details—routes, kills, artifacts recovered—but his focus kept slipping.
The rhythm of water against tile, the occasional soft hum from your voice—it was too steady, too human, too distracting.
He told himself it was irritation. Distraction was weakness. Yet the truth settled in his chest like thawing ice: warm, unfamiliar, and impossible to ignore.
When it came to you, everything was distracting. And that, he decided, was unacceptable.
He dipped the quill again, jaw tight. “..Tch.” he tsked, forcing himself back to the page.
Bi-Han wrote until his hand cramped. The final lines of the report blurred in the lamplight, his mind wandering against his will. The sound of your humming filled the room again, light and aimless, and for reasons he couldn’t name it eased something in him. It was unfamiliar—peace, maybe. Dangerous either way.
When the ink dried, he cleaned the quill with deliberate precision, set the parchment aside, and extinguished half the candles. The storm outside had grown heavier, pressing cold against the shutters. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before lying back, hands folded over his chest, eyes shut as if pretending to rest would help him stop thinking.
At first it was harmless: the cadence of your voice, the way you’d laughed at the inn clerk’s nervous stammer. Then his thoughts shifted, unbidden, to the curve of your smile, the warmth of your skin when your hand had brushed his in the forest. He couldn’t help but think how your hand would feel in his. The heat that followed was sudden and traitorous.
He forced a slow breath through his nose, every muscle locking in refusal. Control. He was in control.
The bathroom door opened with a soft click. Steam rolled into the room, carrying the faint scent of soap and something floral.
You stepped out, towel wrapped around you, skin still dewy from the heat. “Bathroom’s all yours.” you said, sweetly, unaware of his inner turmoil.
Bi-Han didn’t move for a full second too long. Then he sat up sharply, eyes fixed anywhere but on you. “Understood.” His voice sounded rougher than intended.
He crossed the room in clipped strides, grabbing his own towel like a man on a mission. The door shut behind him harder than necessary.
You blinked after him, towel shifting in your hands, and just shrugged his behaviour off.
Left alone with the sound of the storm, you dressed in comfortable clothes, combed through your hair, and began your nightly routine. The mirror above the desk caught your reflection—soft lighting, faintly flushed cheeks—and you tried not to think about how strange it felt to share a room with the most unreadable man alive.
Behind the bathroom door, the water ran cold enough to bite. Leftover steam clung to the mirrors and tiles, blurring Bi-Han’s reflection into a pale ghost. He dragged a wet hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, cold air leaving his lungs in a faint mist.
He tried to empty his mind, to focus on the rhythm of water striking skin, but discipline refused to take hold. Images crept in anyway—flushed skin, the faint peeking of cleavage still touched by steam, the glint of water trailing down a throat. They flickered and vanished, only to return harder, sharper.
A low sound escaped him, equal parts irritation and disbelief. He scrubbed at his arms as if effort alone could scour the thoughts away, lowering his body temperature until the chill stung. ‘Control’, he reminded himself, the word more command than comfort.
At the desk outside, you were still humming, pen scratching steadily across parchment as you drafted your own mission report. The sound of the storm grew heavier against the windows; snow pressed white against the glass until the world beyond disappeared entirely.
You glanced up, sighing. “Perfect,” you muttered to no one. The wind howled in answer.
It was obvious the storm wouldn’t let up soon. The streets had emptied, shutters sealed tight, and a thin layer of frost was already creeping over the window frame. The thought of being trapped here with the ever-pleasant cryomancer for days made you groan softly.
“Elder Gods, if you have any mercy,” you whispered, “keep the lights on.”
The wind howled and beat harshly against the window in response.
You sank back in the chair, tapping your pen against the page. Somewhere behind the bathroom door, water still ran. Bemused, you wondered briefly what could possibly take Bi-Han so long—then decided you probably didn’t want to know.
You finished your notes and stacked everything neatly on the desk, finally allowing yourself to sink into the bed with a book in hand. The satin fabric of your sleep set—pastel blue fading into lilac—caught the lamplight as you pulled the blankets over your legs.
The room felt a little colder than before. A faint draft brushed your left side, and you shivered just as the bathroom door opened.
Bi-Han stepped out, hair still damp, a thin ribbon of mist curling behind him. He wore plain dark sweats and nothing else—no armor, no layers, just unguarded skin and muscle carved by years of discipline. For a second, you forgot how to breathe.
He muttered under his breath as he toweled his hair dry, grumbling about the “inefficiency of inns” and how he would much rather be at the Lin Kuei temple. The sound of his voice—low, irritated—snapped you out of your staring. You dropped your gaze back to your book before he could notice.
“The shower decent?” you asked lightly, trying for casual.
He answered with a grunt, rummaging through his pack before setting it down by the wall. A moment later, the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on the far side of the bed.
You smiled faintly, eyes still on the page. “You might as well get comfortable. We’ll probably be here longer than a night.”
He turned his head, frowning. “Explain.”
You tilted your chin toward the window. The glass was already fogging over; outside, snow came down in sheets, thick and unbroken. The wind howled around the eaves like something alive.
“The storm’s only getting worse,” you said. “If it keeps up, we’ll be snowed in by morning.”
Bi-Han’s expression darkened. “Unacceptable.”
“Not much you can do about it, Bi-Han. Unless you plan on freezing a tunnel out.”
He didn’t bother responding, but his gaze followed yours to the window. The sky was an endless swirl of white, and even he could admit defeat against nature. He exhaled, the faintest wisp of cold curling from his breath.
“The power might go out if the winds pick up,” you added quietly.
That, at least, earned a flicker of concern. He scanned the room quickly—walls, ceiling, the dim light trembling against the shadows—until his eyes landed on the stone hearth tucked beside the desk. Good. There would be firewood if the heat failed.
He gave a silent nod to the Elder Gods, a rare concession to luck.
For now, the only sound was the storm hammering at the windows and the slow, even rustle of pages turning between your fingers.
Bi-Han studied you quietly from his side of the bed. The lamplight softened the edges of the room, catching the sheen of your satin clothes as you read. For a moment, his gaze traced the colors—the pale blue, the faint lilac—and how they set off the warmth of your skin. Beautiful, yes, but more than that, alive.
He told himself he was only checking for injuries. The assassins hadn’t been skilled, but they’d been many, and he’d seen you take a few hard blows. His eyes lingered at your shoulder, your wrist, cataloguing the faint marks he could see.
“Are you injured?” he asked, voice low.
You looked up from your book, smiling at his tone. “Worried about me, Grandmaster?”
“I see no reason for you to sound so amused.”
“I’m fine. Just a few bruises. They’ll be gone by morning.”
You let your gaze wander in return—part curiosity, part payback. His chest rose evenly, unmarred; his arms were a map of old battles, not fresh ones. “And you? No damage from the terrible, lowly assassins?”
He made a quiet sound that could have been a scoff. “If such rabble had harmed me, it would be unacceptable.”
You grinned. “Right. Forgive me, my ice princess.”
That earned you a sharp glare. “Watch your tongue. I am your Grandmaster.”
You laughed, bright and unbothered. “Yes, yes. My apologies, oh mighty one.”
For all his grumbling, you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth before he turned away.
The two of you drifted into easier talk—half-serious, half-sarcastic—until the fatigue from the day finally pulled at your limbs. When you set the book aside, you offered a soft, “Goodnight, Bi-Han.”
He grunted something noncommittal but didn’t move. You smiled to yourself and rolled over, each of you keeping to your own side of the bed.
Sometime in the night, the world went dark.
The hum of the lanterns faded, leaving only the roar of the storm beyond the walls. The temperature dropped fast; your breath puffed white in the dark.
“Fantastic,” you muttered, teeth chattering. The thin satin did little against the cold, and goosebumps chased up your arms. You slipped from the bed as quietly as you could, padding across the floor to the small hearth.
After a few stubborn sparks and a whispered curse, flames caught. The orange light painted the room in flickers and shadows, the chill easing just enough to breathe.
You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and settled on the rug, book in hand, the fire’s warmth brushing your face. Sleep could wait. Outside, the storm still howled; inside, it was only you, the fire, and the soft rhythm of Bi-Han’s breathing behind you.
The fire crackled softly as you turned another page, the storm outside a steady hiss against the windows. Somewhere behind you, a low sound broke the rhythm—a faint rumble, rough and uneven.
You looked back over your shoulder. Nothing seemed out of place at first. Then your eyes landed on Bi-Han. He’d shifted in his sleep, one arm tucked under his head, the other draped over the pillow. The sound came again, and you realized it wasn’t thunder at all. He was the source.
A quiet laugh slipped from you. “Even asleep, you’re complaining,” you murmured, shaking your head.
You turned back to your book, letting the pages pull you in again, but the next sound wasn’t a grumble. It was lower, drawn out—something that made the fire’s warmth feel suddenly different. You froze, heart thudding once, twice. Maybe you’d imagined it.
Then it happened again. A low, rough and gravely moan.
Heat crept up your neck. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but they blurred. You’d spent years with this man—fighting beside him, arguing with him, watching him command the Lin Kuei with all the grace of a winter storm—and somewhere along the way you’d fallen for the rare moments when he wasn’t a storm at all. When he was simply… human.
That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you set the book aside and rose to your feet. Concern. That was all it was.
He lay on his stomach, the blankets pushed low around his waist, the firelight tracing the sharp lines of muscle and scar across his back. You took a hesitant step closer. His breathing was heavy but uneven, a soft sound escaping that might have been pain.
“Bi-Han?” you whispered.
He didn’t stir. You frowned, scanning his side for any sign of injury he might have hidden earlier. The next breath he took came out in a faint cloud of frost, his brow creasing as if caught in some uneasy dream.
Before you could decide whether to wake him, he shifted, rolling onto his back. The movement startled you; your breath caught as you froze in place. But his eyes stayed closed.
He was still asleep.
You exhaled slowly, pulse racing for reasons you didn’t care to name, and let the fire’s glow soften the edges of the room once more.
You stood there longer than you meant to, eyes tracing the lines of his body where the light from the fire met the cool tone of his skin. Years of discipline had carved strength into every movement; even in sleep, he looked like a weapon sheathed.
You’d always known he was handsome, but seeing him this unguarded made something twist deep inside you—admiration, affection, something harder to name. It was the first time you’d really seen the cost of all that control etched into him: the scars, the stillness, the weight of command.
Then the sound came again—low, rough—and as you dared looked even further down, you suddenly understood the tension knotted through his frame. Heat flooded your face before the thought had fully formed. You turned away sharply, pressing a hand to your mouth, heart hammering against your ribs.
This was dangerous territory. Whatever storm he was caught in, waking him now would only make things worse—for him or for you.
You took a steadying breath, trying to will your pulse back to normal. The sensible thing would be to sit back down, pretend you’d seen nothing, and wait for morning.
But curiosity was a trait you’d never learned to tame.
You took a slow breath and stepped closer, the sound of the storm muffled under the steady rhythm of his breathing. Carefully, you set a hand against his chest, meaning only to wake him gently. For an instant your fingers moved of its own accord, tracing a small circle over the steady pulse beneath your palm. Then you froze, realizing what you were doing.
“Bi-Han,” you whispered. “Wake up.”
His reaction was instant. His hand shot up, closing around your wrist with a force that startled you—not painful, just a reflex born of years of battle. He sat up in one smooth motion, eyes sharp, scanning the shadows.
“What happened?” His voice was low and rough, still half caught in whatever dream he’d been fighting. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head quickly. “No, no. Everything’s fine. I just… you were making noises in your sleep. I thought maybe you were hurt.”
The tension in his grip eased, but he didn’t immediately let go. His gaze finally settled on your face, searching for something in it. The silence stretched. You could feel the coolness of his skin under your palm, the faint tremor of his breathing.
Then something flickered behind his eyes—realization, maybe. His hand dropped away as if burned. He turned his face from you, jaw tight, shoulders rigid.
“I’m fine,” he said, voice clipped. “It was nothing.”
You hesitated, still close enough to feel the cold radiating from him where the heat had been a moment before.
“If you say so,” you murmured, stepping back to give him space.
He only grunted in reply, the sound rough with embarrassment, and the two of you sat there with the fire crackling quietly between you—neither willing to name what had just passed.
You walked to your side and slipped back under the covers, the mattress dipping softly beneath your weight. Bi-Han hadn’t moved much; he sat with his back slightly to you, shoulders rigid, every line of him carved tight.
You hesitated, then reached out, letting your fingers rest lightly on his shoulder. “Bi-Han… are you sure you’re all right? Is there anything I can do?”
He went even stiller. You felt a faint shiver run through him—not from cold this time, but from something that thickened the air between you, electric and dangerous.
In the dim firelight, his breath came uneven, and for a moment you wondered what ghosts his dreams had left behind.
He stood suddenly, every motion too sharp. His hand raked through his hair, leaving it more disordered than before. A low sound escaped him, half sigh, half growl of frustration.
“Yes,” he said at last, the word ground out between his teeth.
Before you could answer, he turned on his heel and crossed the room, disappearing into the bathroom without another word.
The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with the crackle of the fire and the echo of everything unspoken.
Bi-Han breathed harshly as the door shut behind him. He gripped the edges of the sink, bowing his head, utterly stunned by the disaster he’d just lived through. Never—not once in all his carefully disciplined life—had he imagined he would lose control in front of you of all people.
His father had carved restraint into him like scripture. Kuai Liang would have looked away out of respect… before laughing later. Tomas would have laughed immediately.
Bi-Han was mortified. Truly, painfully mortified.
Heat rushed through him again at the memory, and he cursed under his breath. He had the nerve to react like that in front of the one person he should always remain composed around. If the Elder Gods had a sense of humor, they were surely entertained at his expense.
You were probably amused too. How could you not be?
Another low groan tore from him. In his frustration, he hadn’t even noticed the frost spreading over the sink until it crackled beneath his palms. He forced himself to breathe, slowly thawing the surface. None of this helped the situation; the lingering desire coiled in him stubbornly refused to disappear.
He splashed his face with freezing water until the shock dulled the heat beneath his skin. After a moment, he straightened, meeting his own reflection. His hair was a mess, his expression strained—he barely recognized himself like this.
Enough. He would handle nothing tonight except his pride.
When he finally stepped back into the room, the fire had dwindled and you were already asleep, bundled under the blankets. The faint orange glow painted your face in soft, peaceful lines. Something in his chest tightened.
He knelt by the hearth, feeding the flames just enough to keep the cold at bay for you. Only after the warmth resumed did he return to the bed, slipping silently beneath the sheets.
For a moment, he simply looked at you.
You—his greatest irritation.
His sharpest thorn.
The only one whose presence unraveled him.
And the person he trusted more than anyone.
The most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.
The one Kuai insisted he pursue.
The one Tomas teased him about endlessly.
The one he’d grown to love, quietly and without permission.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, control rebuilt brick by brick over the frantic beating of his own heart.
Sleep would not come easily—not tonight. But if losing control meant losing it because of you, he wasn’t entirely sure he minded.
The first rays of morning crept across your face, warm enough to coax you out of sleep. You frowned at the intrusion, groaning softly before your eyes finally fluttered open. For a moment, you simply lay there, letting your waking mind make sense of your surroundings.
The hearth had gone cold.
The power was back.
The air held a crisp winter bite…
And you couldn’t move.
A weight pressed across your stomach—solid, heavy, unmistakably human.
Your breath caught.
You looked down.
An arm. His arm. Draped over your waist, relaxed in a way you’d never seen from him while awake. Every muscle in your body locked, heat flooding your face as your brain pieced together the situation.
Bi-Han was holding you.
In his sleep.
Like it was natural.
A small, traitorous smile curved at your lips.
In a hazy moment of wishful thinking—or madness—you let yourself settle back against him. Just to savor it. Just for a second.
He made a low sound, something deep and instinctive, and tightened his hold around you. His body fit against yours with unintentional precision.
That’s when you felt it.
The heat blooming against you. The kind that had startled you the night before.
Your breath hitched. A tremor ran through you, unbidden, and you—heedless, reckless—eased closer. Barely an inch, just enough to—
Bi-Han inhaled sharply.
Before your mind could process the consequences, his body reacted. He shifted against you, slow, unconscious, driven by some lingering dream that refused to let go. The movement sent a shiver through him, a helpless sound caught low in his throat.
Your face burned. Your pulse thudded.
You should have pulled away.
But instead, you let yourself stay—caught between shock and rising heat, your own breath growing unsteady at the feel of him, the weight of him, the unmistakable want he hadn’t meant to reveal.
Tentatively, almost without thinking, you moved against him again. The situation was absurd, overwhelming, impossible—yet it set every nerve in your body alight. How many times had you dreamed of waking like this? Wrapped in his arms, feeling him pressed against you with no layers, no distance, no restraint?
It felt too vivid to be real.
Behind you, Bi-Han stirred.
At first, the shift was small—his breathing deepened, his hand tightening around you as if he feared you’d slip away. A soft sound escaped him, rough and dazed, and the chill of it brushed your ear.
He wasn’t fully awake, not yet. Whatever dream had hold of him blurred the edges of his consciousness, leaving him unguarded. The sensation of you against him drew a quiet, helpless sound from his throat, something that ran straight down your spine.
Then, all at once, he froze.
You felt it the instant it happened.
Every muscle locked.
His grip went rigid.
His breath hitched sharply.
Awareness crashed into him like a wave—sharp, cold, undeniable. He processed the warmth wrapped against him, the closeness, the tension still humming through his body, and the fact that he was holding you, not a dream.
You barely had time to panic before instinct betrayed you—you moved again, a small, needy grind born from heat and confusion, unaware he was already awake.
The reaction was immediate.
A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, brushing against your skin like a spark. Frost seemed to tingle in the air as his breath swept the back of your neck.
‘…interesting,’ he thought, the last remnants of sleep burning away as something sharper took their place. The initial shock faded quickly, replaced by a slow, coiling heat that curled at the edges of his restraint.
You really believed a move like that would go unnoticed?
Or unanswered?
A dark, wicked thrill flickered through him at the thought. You had no idea what kind of reaction you’d just woken—what kind of ideas you’d stirred loose in him.
Surely, you didn’t expect him to simply let that go. Not when you’d pressed yourself against him so sweetly.
Not when you’d sounded so desperate for more.
Your entire body went rigid.
You turned your head slowly, heart pounding out of rhythm, only to find his eyes still closed… but a faint, unmistakable smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“…B–Bi-Han…?” you whispered, voice trembling.
He hummed lazily, arms tightening around your waist, his breath cool and warm all at once against your cheek.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something far heavier.
“M-morning…” you breathed.
His smirk deepened. “Feeling good, snowflake?” he asked, tone low and teasing, laced with a heat that made your pulse stutter.
“A-ah—I… I’m sorry, I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to— I just—”
Words failed you completely. Your brain scrambled for an excuse that didn’t exist.
Because no matter what you said, it absolutely looked like what it was.
“Mm…? Weren’t trying to what?” His voice curved around your ear, low and amused. “Move against me like that?”
Heat rushed to your cheeks so fast it nearly stung. You let out a soft, helpless sound, equal parts flustered and frustrated at how easily he could unravel you with a single sentence.
He chuckled against your skin. “Then what were you trying to do, hmm?”
His lips brushed your shoulder—barely a kiss, more like a promise. The touch sent a tremor spiraling through you. You instinctively tilted your head, baring more of your neck as he traced a slow line upward. Every ghosting kiss made your breath hitch, your pulse quicken.
“…just wanted to… help you…” you whispered, the words spilling out in a dazed tumble. You grinded against him again, instinct guiding you more than thought, wordlessly showing him what you meant.
Bi-Han’s breath caught. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you closer, drawing a low sound from deep in his chest.
“How considerate,” he murmured, voice thick with heat and control. “My snowflake… always eager to please her Grandmaster.”
A shiver raced down your spine at the praise, at the way he said mine without even trying to hide it. His hands swept along your sides, tracing the lines of your body with slow, deliberate reverence. You felt the contrast—his rough, calloused palms against your warm, sensitive skin.
In one smooth motion, he shifted his weight and flipped you onto your back, bracing himself above you. The room spun for a heartbeat before you stilled beneath him, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
Your face burned, breath unsteady, and he drank in every inch of it.
Bi-Han leaned down, his lips brushing yours—soft, fleeting, infuriating. A tease. A test.
You whimpered, trying to chase his mouth, but he pulled back just enough to make you feel the loss. His smirk was slow and devastating.
He wasn’t going to make this easy for you.
You squirmed beneath him—half anticipation, half frustration—until the need simmering in your belly snapped. Your fingers slid into his messy hair, gripping tight as you pulled him down to you.
He groaned against your mouth, biting lightly at your lower lip as if punishing you for your impatience. You didn’t care. Not when you finally had him close enough to taste.
His lips were cool, a shock of winter heat against your own, and you melted into the kiss with a soft, desperate sound. One arm wrapped around his neck, the other tugging at his hair again—enough to make him inhale sharply and roll his hips into yours with a low, helpless moan.
Bi-Han caught your legs and guided them around his waist, lowering himself over you until your bodies aligned in a way that made your breath break.
You whispered his name—half plea, half praise—as he deepened the kiss, slowly overwhelming every thought you had left.
When the need to breathe forced you apart, you both stayed close, foreheads nearly touching, breaths mingling in the heated quiet.
Bi-Han’s gaze darkened. Then he lowered his mouth to your throat, kissing slowly, possessively. Each touch grew hungrier, traveling down the curve of your neck and tracing the edge of your collarbone. His mouth left heated trails that would absolutely turn into marks later—evidence of exactly how much he wanted you.
He paused only to look up at you, drinking in the sight of your flushed face, your parted lips, the way you watched him like you’d fall apart without his touch.
“…May I?” he asked, voice a deep, low rumble. “Remove this?”
Your breath stuttered. “Y-yes… please.”
A satisfied hum vibrated in his chest as he slipped your top away with smooth, practiced care. He bent to your skin again, kissing the newly exposed warmth with slow, reverent attention—each brush of his mouth sending shivers through you, each touch making your back arch for more.
His cool hand slid along your side, shaping itself to you, exploring with a firm gentleness that stole your breath.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against you, voice thick with awe… and hunger.
You let out a broken moan, clutching at him, trying to pull him closer, deeper.
“Bi-Han…” you breathed. “Please… don’t tease.”
A soft, wicked chuckle ghosted over your skin as he nuzzled closer, lips brushing your nipple, making heat bloom all through you.
“I have no intention of teasing you,” he whispered, tightening his hold on your waist. “Not when you ask so sweetly.”
Bi-Han’s mouth trailed lower, tracing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your torso. Every brush of his lips sent sparks skittering across your skin. By the time he reached the edge of your shorts, you were already trembling.
He glanced up at you—silent question, smoldering eyes.
You nodded, breath caught in your throat.
He slid the fabric down with deliberate care and the sudden exposure sent a rush of shyness through you. Instinct overtook desire for a moment, and you drew your legs together, hands covering what you could.
Bi-Han halted.
A low, displeased growl vibrated from his chest—not anger, but something intensely possessive.
“Do not hide from me, àirén,” he murmured, voice rough with wanting. “I want to see you.”
Your face burned, embarrassment warring with need, but the softness in his eyes steadied you. Slowly, you let your legs part again, revealing yourself to him.
His breath hitched.
Then he leaned in and began to kiss a slow path along your thigh. His lips were cool at first, warming with each press, each lingering nip. He worshiped the skin there, marking a trail inward—closer, closer—until your entire body trembled beneath him.
When his mouth finally brushed your core, the shock of sensation ripped a gasp from your throat.
You weren’t prepared. Not for the coolness of his mouth, not for the intensity of his hunger, not for the way he devoted himself to you without hesitation or restraint. His movements were deliberate yet greedy, as if he’d been waiting far too long for this moment.
Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling, body arching helplessly as you moaned his name again and again. The pleasure built faster than you could handle, rising sharp and bright through your core.
“B-Bi-Han—please… slow down…” you gasped, voice high and wavering as your legs threatened to close around him.
The sounds he made against you—raw, hungry, almost desperate—only pushed you further toward the edge. Every breath, every touch, every bit of devotion he poured into you sent your mind spiraling into white-hot static.
He wasn’t letting up.
He wasn’t holding back.
He was devouring you with the same intensity he brought to battle… except this time, every ounce of that power was focused entirely on you.
Your legs quivered helplessly around him as the pleasure built faster, tighter, threatening to snap.
You were already trembling when you grabbed his hair, tugging hard enough to pull a sharp groan from him.
“Bi-Han… please— I need you… I want you,” you gasped, voice cracking with desperation.
The words hit him like a physical blow.
But he didn’t stop.
If anything, the tension in his body sharpened, his grip tightening at your waist as he focused every bit of himself on pushing you over the brink. The way you tightened, the way your voice trembled—he wasn’t letting you go until he felt you unravel completely beneath him.
His own body reacted uncontrollably—restless, needy, grinding against the sheets as if he couldn’t help it—but he ignored all of it. Every thought, every bit of restraint, every ounce of his discipline was poured into you.
“Bi-Han—!” you cried out, your voice breaking as your back arched.
A wave of pleasure tore through you, fierce and blinding. You called his name again and again, your fingers digging into his hair, your thighs trembling around him as you shattered.
He groaned—low, reverent—holding you through every pulse of it, as if he wanted to memorize the way your body responded to him.
Only when the tremors eased did he finally ease his pace, kissing his way back up your body with slow, deliberate devotion. He gave you time to breathe, time to come back to yourself, each kiss grounding you again.
When your eyes fluttered open, he was hovering over you—eyes dark, expression undone. The sight of him like that, your slick dripping down his chin, made heat bloom in your chest all over again.
You reached up, threaded your fingers into his damp hair, and pulled him into a hungry kiss. The moment his body pressed against yours, you felt the hard line of need he’d been denying himself, and a soft moan spilled from your lips.
Your hands fumbled at the waistband of his pants, your desire rising all over again at the feel of him so close and so unrestrained.
Bi-Han groaned against your mouth, finally giving in. In one fluid motion, he pushed the fabric away, desperate for the closeness he’d been starving for. When he settled back against you, skin to skin, the heat where your bodies met made him hiss through his teeth.
He kissed you fiercely, breath ragged, as he moved against you—slow, deliberate, savoring every second of that intimate friction. It was enough to make both of you gasp, enough to make your body arch into his without thinking, enough to draw a curse from his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.
He wasn’t inside you—not yet.
But he was close enough that both of you were shaking.
Bi-Han’s hands slid down your legs, gripping your thighs with a claim that made your breath stutter. He guided you open beneath him, the movement slow, deliberate, intimate. His body aligned with yours in a way that left no doubt about what he wanted—what both of you wanted.
Your heart thudded painfully hard.
He pressed forward, easing you closer, letting you feel the weight and heat of him against you. The anticipation alone tore a helpless moan from your lips.
“Y/N…” he breathed, voice breaking on your name.
You clung to him—one hand digging into his shoulder, the other fisting the sheets behind you—as your body trembled under the intensity of the moment. Every inch of him crowding over you, surrounding you, claiming space you’d secretly saved for him alone.
The burn of pressure, of closeness, of being opened so slowly under his weight, made your eyes flutter shut. A needy sound spilled from your throat before you could stop it.
Bi-Han groaned—a low, ruined sound that vibrated through your bones.
“So warm,” he murmured against your ear, words rough, voice shaking with restraint. “So eager for me.”
Your face flushed hot at his tone, at the praise that felt like it melted straight into your core.
When he finally pressed flush against you, a wave of dizzying fullness washed through you—overwhelming, perfect, almost too much. You gasped his name, fingers clutching at him as your back arched helplessly.
He paused—just for a moment—to look at you. Really look. Eyes dark, jaw tight, pulling air through his teeth like he was fighting not to lose control entirely.
“You alright, snowflake?” he whispered, voice low.
“Y-yes…” you breathed, barely holding yourself together. “Please… Bi-Han… move…”
His restraint snapped.
He pulled back just enough to draw a sharp gasp from you, then rolled his hips into yours with a deep, controlled push that tore a moan straight from your chest.
Your body reacted instantly—clenching, trembling, clinging to him—so intensely that he choked on a curse.
He started slowly at first, feeling out every shiver, every arch of your back, every breathless sound you made… then gradually gave you more. More depth, more intensity, more of him. His rhythm grew stronger, harder to contain, his body moving with a hunger he could no longer hide.
You were falling apart—words tangled, thoughts shattered, everything dissolving under the sensation of him and the heat of his breath on your throat.
Bi-Han’s smirk ghosted against your skin.
“Listen to you…” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “Already losing yourself?”
You whined, grip tightening on his shoulder.
His chuckle was low and devastating.
“Has my snowflake gone a little mindless for me?” he teased, brushing his lips over yours without kissing you fully. “Is that what you wanted?”
You could only gasp his name—again, again, again—each one pulling another sound out of him in return.
“Yes—yes!” you cried, the word torn from you without thought.
Your hands flew to his back, nails dragging along his skin as you clung to him. Each scratch pulled a low, hungry hum from his throat, his body shuddering above yours as he took in every detail of your pleasure.
He shifted—slow, intentional—and found a place inside you that made your entire body seize with pure electricity. Your breath caught, your vision blurred, your spine arching helplessly beneath him.
Bi-Han watched all of it with dark, reverent hunger.
“Look at you…” he murmured, voice a deep rumble against your lips. “Falling apart so easily.”
He angled his hips again, grinding deeper into that perfect spot, his teasing words brushing against your ear like silk and fire. Your thoughts crumbled, your voice reduced to broken fragments.
“Bi-Han—please, I’m— I’m—” Your words dissolved into a helpless moan as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer, locking him against you.
The sudden pressure made him choke on a curse, his control splintering.
He pressed his forehead to yours, breath shaking, trying—failing—to keep himself steady.
“Don’t do that…” he growled softly. “You’ll tempt me to make you completely mine.”
Your back arched, a needy cry tearing from your throat.
“Please… make me yours… just yours…”
The sound he made was nothing human—low, guttural, possessive. His hands tightened on your hips, anchoring you beneath him.
“You want that?” he breathed, his voice trembling with restraint and want. “You want to belong to me?”
“Yes—ah—just you—only you, Grandmaster!” you gasped, the words ripped straight from your soul.
Something inside him snapped.
He buried his face in your neck, a harsh, desperate growl vibrating against your skin as his body moved with sudden, overwhelming intensity. His control shattered completely—every breath, every motion, every sound filled with raw, consuming hunger for you.
“Mine,” he snarled against your throat, the word reverent and feral all at once. “You’re mine—no one else touches you.”
Your fingers tangled in his hair as he held you firmly beneath him, his voice a low hiss against your ear.
“I’ll mark you so thoroughly…” he breathed, shivering as you tightened around him again, “everyone will know who you belong to.”
Your release hit you like a tidal wave.
“Bi-Han!” you cried, voice breaking as your entire body arched off the bed. Pleasure ripped through you so fiercely you could barely breathe. Your nails dragged down his back, marking him as instinctively as he’d marked you—proof etched into his skin that he was yours too.
He groaned at the feeling of you shuddering beneath him, continuing his movements just long enough to draw every last tremor from your body. Then, with a low, breathless sound—your name on his tongue—he tightened his grip on your waist and buried himself against you, shuddering through his own release.
You felt him tremble, his breath stuttering against your throat as he held you through the last waves of it.
Slowly—so slowly—his grip softened. He hovered over you, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The wildness from moments ago ebbed into something softer—warmer—something he didn’t show to anyone else.
When he finally leaned down to kiss you, it was nothing like before.
No hunger.
No dominance.
Just quiet apology and reverence.
Your fingers threaded gently into his hair, pulling him closer, returning his kiss with shaky tenderness. When you finally separated, both of you were panting, faces flushed, hearts racing in sync.
Bi-Han sat back on his heels, steadying himself before carefully pulling away from you. The moment he did, he paused—eyes roaming over the marks left on your skin and his release dripping from your core. His lips curled upward in a rare, quiet smirk at the sight.
Without a word, he rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth. He knelt beside you on the mattress, tending to you with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
You let out a soft moan—part soreness, part exhaustion—as he touched you. You closed your eyes, letting him care for you in silence, the intimacy of it somehow deeper than anything that came before.
And that’s when reality slammed back into you.
Now that the haze of desire had faded… your mind finally caught up.
Oh gods.
Oh gods.
You had just slept with your Grandmaster.
The man you’d been secretly in love with for years.
The same man you had—very clearly—begged to claim you.
Out loud.
Multiple times.
Heat rushed to your face in a violent wave.
You wanted the earth to open beneath the bed and swallow you whole.
What.
Had.
You.
Done.
You squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to the childish logic that if you didn’t look at him, maybe he couldn’t look back at you. Mortification curled tight in your stomach. You were absolutely, positively not ready to face the consequences of your actions.
You heard him move away from the bed—quiet steps, the soft clink of glass—and then return. A gentle tap on your arm made you flinch.
“Open your eyes,” he said—soft, not commanding.
You obeyed, hesitantly.
He sat beside you, a glass of water in hand, expression unreadable.
“Drink,” he murmured.
Your face burned. You took it, holding it with both hands, sipping carefully to avoid choking and humiliating yourself further. When you were done, you offered the empty glass back, throat tight.
“…Thank you,” you whispered. “For the water. And… for taking care of me.”
Your voice was still rough, worn thin from the amount of moaning you had done. Bi-Han’s eyes flicked over your face, lingering at the sound of it.
He didn’t speak immediately, just watched—too intensely, too deeply—until you squirmed under the weight of his silence. After a moment, he exhaled, a low, gravelly sound.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
You nodded quickly, gaze locked on the blanket instead of him.
He didn’t look convinced.
The silence between you thickened until he finally broke it, his voice low and edged with something you couldn’t name.
“Are you regretting your decision?”
Your head snapped up. “…What?”
His jaw clenched, eyes hooded. “Do you regret sleeping with me?” he repeated bluntly. “Are you already taking back the words you said earlier?”
Your breath caught.
And suddenly every desperate plea rushed back like a punch to the chest.
Please… make me yours… just yours…
Yes—ah—just you—only you, Grandmaster!
You wanted to crawl under the blankets and never emerge again.
But you forced the truth out anyway.
“…No. I don’t.”
You swallowed, staring at anything but him. “I don’t regret it.”
But the words hurt to say, because you knew what came next—knew how this story usually ended.
You looked away, heart sinking as the truth pressed down on you.
“But I know you don’t feel the same,” you whispered, ashamed. “It was just… stress relief. I helped you out. That’s all.”
You braced yourself for agreement.
For coldness.
For distance.
Because what else would a Grandmaster want from someone like you?
A heavy silence settled between you, more suffocating than any storm outside.
You refused to cry — you refused — even as your vision blurred and your throat tightened painfully. You would not fall apart in front of him. Not now. Not over this.
Bi-Han exhaled sharply, the sound low and frustrated.
“Such a foolish woman…” he muttered under his breath.
Before you could react, his hands were on you — firm but careful — lifting you and settling you in his lap as if you weighed nothing. His arms wrapped around your waist, caging you in, leaving absolutely no room to run from him or from the truth.
You stared at him wide-eyed as he tilted your chin up between two fingers, guiding your gaze to meet his.
“Do not think such foolishness again,” he said, voice firm but soft at the edges. “This was not a simple… release of stress for me. I do not act on such things lightly.”
Your breath stilled.
“And do not think,” he continued, gaze darkening, “that this was a one-time occurrence.”
You blinked, dazed, brain stuttering.
You couldn’t quite process the implication.
Not until his grip softened, fingers brushing along your cheek with surprising gentleness before returning to rest at your waist, holding you securely against him.
“I care for you far too deeply to allow that,” he said quietly.
The world stopped.
You searched his eyes — desperately — for a hint of deception, of pity, of anything that would confirm your fear.
You found none.
Only truth.
And something warm.
Something terrifyingly close to love.
“So…” your voice trembled, barely above a whisper, “does that mean you… like me back?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“You are mine,” he said simply. “As I am yours.”
The breath you’d been holding escaped in a shaky rush. Heat washed over your face as you ducked your head into his neck, hiding the smile you couldn’t stop. His scent wrapped around you — cold air, steel, and the faintest warmth he only ever showed you.
Your arms circled his shoulders, clinging to him with a relief so deep it ached.
“Understood?” he asked softly.
You nodded against his skin, melting completely into his hold.
“Good,” he murmured, pressing a quiet kiss to your temple.
He held you for another long moment before rising to his feet with you still in his arms, carrying you toward the bathroom with steady, confident steps.
You smiled against his throat, heart full, warm, and impossibly content.
Prompt: Parties are society's glamorous way to let loose and have fun with friends or new people. Who knew that they were dangerous enough to start an invisible fire?
Pairing(s): Raiden x Cat Shifter!Reader x Kenshi
Warnings: NSFW, vaginal fingering, public sex, vaginal sex, handjob, cunniligus,everyone has the hots for you, only two get it tho
A/N: I took this shit and ran with it. idk what happened. Btw, this is your dress.
Masterlist
You were lazing in the sun like the shameless little menace you were, stretching your cute paws out before flopping onto your side again. The Wu Shi courtyard buzzed with training students and chanting monks, but you paid them about as much attention as a houseplant. Today was your “absolutely not dealing with humanoid nonsense” day, so feline form it was. Everything was easier like this: moving, jumping, napping, ignoring people. Peak efficiency.
Your eyes drifted shut, warm sunlight soaking into your fur, and you slipped into that half-asleep haze only cats and retired elders can achieve.
A moment later, warm hands slid over the top of your head, rubbing gently between your ears.
You let out the softest meow and began purring like the world’s tiniest diesel engine.
When you cracked an eye open, the Fire God himself was sitting cross-legged beside you, smiling serenely.
“Afternoon, Y/N. I trust your nap has been… restorative?” Liu Kang said, voice dripping with that peaceful-monk energy.
You responded by crawling directly onto his lap and shoving your head under his palm, demanding continued service.
He chuckled. “As you wish.”
Across the courtyard, Kung Lao gasped like a scandalized auntie.
“How come you never let me pet you!?” he whined dramatically, hands on his hips.
“Probably because you always try to touch her belly,” Raiden called back, his smile warm and clearly amused.
Kung Lao threw his hands up in despair.
“But it looks so soft! Why soft if no pet?!”
You cracked an eye open just long enough to shoot Kung Lao the most unimpressed feline glare imaginable before melting right back into Liu Kang’s hand. Your purr rumbled louder, vibrating through his lap as you stretched out luxuriously and got even more comfortable, because why not make the god adjust around you.
The other champions drifted over like curious pigeons.
“Dude, that’s literally a death wish,” Johnny said, pointing at Kung Lao like he’d committed a war crime. “You try to pet a cat’s belly, you’re basically signing a consent form for violence.”
Kenshi nodded with full solemnity.
“I have the scars to prove it,” he added, completely deadpan.
Both men sent you soft smiles, as if greeting a tiny, fluffy deity in repose. You lifted your head just enough to meow at them — your version of a royal nod — then promptly closed your eyes again.
Their voices blended into a warm background hum, the courtyard busy and alive around you. Liu Kang’s fingers slid behind your ears, down your neck, back up again, and your entire feline body went boneless under the attention.
You let the warmth, the chatter, and the god’s gentle petting pull you deeper into your blissful little nap. If only you could stay in such heaven forever. But alas, the cat gods aren’t so merciful.
Liu gently picked you up from his lap. You meowed in disapproval at him, demanding he leave you exactly where you were. He chuckled amusedly.
“Apologies, Y/N. I have errands I must run,” he smiled, placing you down next to him.
You huffed, rubbing your head against the edge of his knee to get one last pet out of him. He relented, stroking between your ears once more before standing up. He peered down at you curiously before speaking again.
“I do recall you also have some duties to attend to?” he said knowingly.
You meowed back at him indignantly, blatantly back talking the fire god.
“A compelling argument, I’m sure,” Liu teased back at you.
The others were watching the interaction with full amusement. You trudged toward them with all the dramatic flair of a cat wronged by fate, brushing your lithe body against their legs just enough to acknowledge their existence. Then, as if bestowing a great honor, you curled yourself over Kung Lao’s feet and stared up at him expectantly.
He froze for half a second. Then his whole face lit up.
“Oh– oh she picked me,” he whispered triumphantly before scooping you up like you were a divine relic.
He scratched your head eagerly.
You purred in approval, allowing him his victory… for now.
You endured a few more over-eager pets from Kung Lao before you started squirming, signaling your royal displeasure. He loosened his arms immediately, and you hopped to the ground with feline grace.
You gave the group a parting meow, flicking your tail in a very “farewell, peasants” kind of way.
Unfortunately, the fire god had been right. You did have duties. Annoying. Tedious. Not nearly as fun as getting worshipped by your friends.
Still, you’d see them all later at Johnny’s mansion.
He was throwing a “just because” party for the Earthrealm champions.
Translation—it was Tuesday and he wanted attention.
You went about your day, begrudgingly finishing your tasks and chores. Back in your human form. Tragic. Absolutely tragic. Everything was slower, heavier, and inconvenient. How mortals endured this, you’d never know.
By the time you wandered into the kitchen, you were starving and already scanning the counters like a burglar casing the place. Someone’s snack was about to become your snack. Finder’s eaters.
Inside, Raiden and Kenshi were seated at the table, mid-conversation, sharing a late lunch. Both men looked up when you entered, each offering their own version of a soft smile.
“Evening, Y/N,” Raiden greeted, voice warm but a little shy, like always.
“Hello, Raiden. Kenshi,” you murmured back, your tone naturally melodic even when you weren’t trying.
Kenshi gave you a small nod of acknowledgment, calm and unreadable as ever.
You sauntered over with all the grace and entitlement of a housecat who owned the entire temple, leaned in, and pressed a soft peck to each of their cheeks. Before either man could fully process that, you flicked your tongue out just enough to give each a tiny kitten lick.
Both of them froze.
Absolutely malfunctioned.
Raiden’s breath hitched like he’d been struck by lightning, and Kenshi’s ears went pink, jaw tightening as he very deliberately pretended he hadn’t reacted at all.
They were used to you doing this in your feline form.
But in your human form?
With your lips?
Yeah, no. Their souls left their bodies for a second.
You breezed right past them like you hadn’t just short-circuited two trained warriors and rummaged through the cupboards with the singular focus of a starving predator.
Behind you, Raiden cleared his throat a little too quickly. Kenshi exhaled through his nose, trying to get his heartbeat under control.
And both men tried—very poorly—to act like this was normal.
Ironic enough, it was. They’ll just never get used to it.
Kenshi and Raiden slipped back into their conversation—tournament updates, training progress, who was overworking, who was slacking—standard champion chatter. You, however, tuned every word out the second your predatory instincts locked onto a sacred prize:
A can of tuna.
You made a delighted little meow under your breath, grabbed it instantly, and utterly ignored the big Sharpie label across the front:
“JOHNNY. DO NOT TOUCH.”
Yeah, right. As if mortal ink could stop you.
You padded right back to Raiden, pressed yourself into his side like he was your designated support human (he is), and held the can up to him with the sweetest, most manipulative eyes on the planet.
“Raiden… can you open this please?”
He blinked down at the can, then at you, then back at the can—like he absolutely understood the consequences of enabling you but was helpless to resist anyway. His expression softened, warm and amused, and he took it.
With one smooth motion, he opened it and handed it back.
You lit up instantly.
A little pleased rumble vibrated in your throat as you dove into your hard-won snack like the shameless little tuna-loving menace you were.
Behind you, Kenshi murmured something like, “You are encouraging her.”
Raiden only smiled, watching you with that soft, fond glow that gave away way more than he realized.
You licked the last of the tuna from your fingers with the kind of single-minded focus only a feline shapeshifter could achieve… until your gaze slid sideways.
Raiden had one last piece of chicken on his plate.
Prime. Juicy. Perfectly seasoned.
Basically calling your name.
You stared at it.
Then back at your own empty can.
Then at the chicken.
Then at Raiden’s hand.
Your brain was doing the world’s slowest debate, and Kenshi could sense every second of it. His smirk grew with each pass of your eyes.
Before you could even fully decide whether you wanted to be bold, the chicken moved.
Right into your personal space.
You blinked up, startled, only to see Raiden holding it out for you with the brightest, gentlest smile like feeding you scraps was the pinnacle of his day.
Kenshi didn’t even bother hiding the smug curve on his lips. He kept eating, head slightly tilted, absolutely savoring this more than the food in front of him.
You, meanwhile, had Raiden offering you chicken like you were his beloved house pet he was desperately trying to woo.
And the tragic part?
You genuinely thought he was just being nice.
Raiden, poor man, was already halfway in love. He was lucky you’d left the room, because the way he looked after you walked out?
Absolutely pathetic in the softest, sweetest way possible.
You’d flashed him that bright smile, sharp little canines and all, thanked him like he’d offered you a rare treasure, and then head-butted his shoulder in pure instinct before remembering you weren’t currently a four-legged creature. The apology only made it worse for him—he practically melted, cheeks flushing as you padded out of the kitchen with your belly full and your tail-less self somehow still managing to swish.
Kenshi watched the whole thing like a man witnessing a slow-motion car crash.
He stabbed a piece of food, sighed, and said, “Why don’t you just tell her?”
Raiden blinked, eyebrows drawing up. “…Tell her what?”
Kenshi stared at him. Fully stared.
He even paused mid-chew.
“Tell her you like her,” he repeated, voice flat. “It’s not that hard.”
Raiden’s entire soul malfunctioned on the spot. His face went cherry-red, eyes suddenly fascinated by literally anything that wasn’t Kenshi’s face.
“…It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, palms fiddling with the edge of his plate. “I’m sure she does not feel the same way. I’m grateful enough to have her friendship.”
Kenshi set his chopsticks down and leaned back like he was aging ten years.
“Raiden,” he said dryly, “she just nuzzled you like a housecat marking its mate.”
Raiden made a mortified sound and buried his face in his hands.
Kenshi sighed again. A long, suffering sigh.
“…She likes you, you idiot.”
Raiden blinked at him, and you could practically see the gears grinding in his head like a wagon with one busted wheel.
“She’s just… very affectionate, is all,” he tried again, voice smaller this time.
Kenshi gave him the longest, driest stare known to mankind. Arms crossed. Posture screaming are you hearing yourself right now?
“When,” Kenshi asked slowly, “have you ever seen her be that affectionate with any of us, Raiden?”
Raiden opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Shifted in his seat.
Looked like someone had just asked him to explain advanced physics while on fire.
“Well… she’s always cuddling us in her feline form…?” he said weakly.
Kenshi hit him with the look.
That "I cannot believe I am friends with this man” look.
“She’s an affectionate cat, not an affectionate human,” Kenshi deadpanned. “Aside from how she greets us, sure, but even then—”
He leaned forward a bit, like he was trying to force Raiden’s last two brain cells to connect.
“—she always gravitates to you when she’s human. She sits near you. She talks softer with you. She brings you food when she shifts back because she says she ‘forgets you’re not a predator’.” Kenshi raised a brow. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed any of that?”
Raiden’s silence said everything.
Kenshi dragged a hand down his face.
“…Burning gods give me strength,” he muttered.
Raiden just stared at the doorway you’d disappeared through, expression caught somewhere between stunned and hopeful, like someone had just handed him the ancient riddle key to the universe.
And for the first time, he actually seemed to wonder if maybe—just maybe—Kenshi wasn’t exaggerating.
The day drifted by without any further drama, thank the gods. Raiden wandered off after Kenshi basically slapped him across the face with common sense, and Kenshi left looking like he needed a nap or a drink. Maybe both.
Meanwhile, you retreated to your room to start getting ready for Johnny’s “totally casual, super low-key, definitely not mandatory” party.
Your phone buzzed.
Johnny: dress code is sexy formal.
Johnny: SEXY.
Johnny: if u don’t look hot enough I will dress u myself.
You stared at the messages.
Rolled your eyes so hard it could’ve powered a wind turbine.
But fine. Whatever. The man had a point—his parties always ended with half the Earthrealm heroes looking like they came off a magazine cover anyway. Might as well join the chaos.
You went straight for a classic: a dangerous black dress. The type that whispered “elegant” but screamed “try me.”
You showered quickly, stepping out with steam curling around you as you began your usual ritual. Makeup first: a smoky eye sharp enough to kill a man, a cat-eye wing so crisp it could slice through steel, and a deep red lip that could make even Liu Kang sweat.
Hair next—your soft locks fell into loose waves, intentionally messy in that “I woke up flawless” kind of way.
Jewelry was minimal but deadly. Silver and cool blues, enough to draw attention to your eyes, which absolutely popped against the dark tones of your look.
When you finally stepped back to look in the mirror, even you had to admit—
If Johnny didn’t scream when he saw you, he’d lost his touch.
Gods, you were a problem.
The dress dipped low enough to make even a monk stumble over his vows, and it clung to every curve like it had been custom-sewn onto your body by a tailor who wanted you arrested for public endangerment. Your silhouette alone could’ve taken out half the Netherrealm.
Your eyes narrowed into those predatory little slits you got whenever you felt yourself. Feline even in human skin. You turned left—deadly. Turned right—lethal. One more slow spin, and yep… anyone who saw you tonight was doomed.
You slipped on your heels, each step adding that sinful sway to your hips, grabbed whatever minimal items you needed, and headed out the door like you were walking into battle.
Honestly? You were.
Just not the kind anyone was emotionally prepared for.
The mansion was practically vibrating with bass, neon, and questionable decisions. Classic Johnny Cage ambience. Bodies swayed on the makeshift dance floor, someone was already drunk-crying on the balcony, and the smell of expensive cologne, cheap alcohol, faint weed and tobacco mixed in the air like… well, a Johnny party.
Johnny spotted you mid-sentence with his co-star and completely short-circuited. His jaw dropped so hard it should’ve bounced off the marble. His gaze dragged down your dress like it was doing slow, sensual CPR.
He practically lunged toward you, hands finding your waist immediately like he’d paid rent there.
“Hey kitten, glad you could make it,” he purred, giving you that movie-star smirk that ruined half of Hollywood.
You smirked right back up at him, leaning in to greet him the way you always did. Johnny shivered at the tiny kitten lick on his cheek, gripping your waist just a bit tighter.
“Hey Johnny,” you purred, voice velvet-smooth. “I see the party’s going well. Have any of the others arrived yet?”
Johnny hummed, though his eyes were still glued to you like he was trying to memorize the neckline of your dress.
“Yeah, Lord Liu Kang’s by the kitchen with Lao and Kenshi. The ninja boys are in the living room, Bi-Han is probably sitting in a corner being… Bi-Han. And Raiden is somewhere.”
You hummed in acknowledgment, flashing him a smile that let just a hint of your canines peek through.
“Thanks, darling. I’ll make sure to greet them.”
His grin stretched wider. “Of course, kitten.”
Then he did another full scan of your outfit, this time even slower. You raised a brow teasingly.
“So? Sexy enough? Or will I be forced to change?”
You spun, letting the dress hug and cling exactly the way it was made to. Johnny let out a breath that probably qualified as a sin in ten religions.
“You look delicious, kitten. Whoever you sink your claws into tonight is lucky.”
You laughed, low and sweet, brushing his arm before slipping away to greet the others—your heels clicking softly as you made your way deeper into the party.
The first people you ran into were Kuai and Tomas, both of them doing a very un-Lin-Kuei double takes when they actually registered you.
Tomas blinked once.
Kuai blinked twice.
Both men swallowed like their throats had suddenly tightened.
“Kuai! Tomas!” you chirped, already sliding into their space before either could recover. You wrapped your arms around their necks one at a time, pulling them into warm hugs and nuzzling your nose against their cheeks in greeting.
Tomas’ cheeks flushed immediately. “Y/N! You look… wow. Stunning.” His smile was so bright you almost mistook it for a burst of lightning.
You giggled, giving them a playful spin, your dress hugging every inch with criminal intent. Tomas whistled softly. Kuai just smirked, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Seems the Wu Shi kitten is feeling feral today,” Kuai drawled.
You laughed, bumping your hip into his with a mischievous grin.
“Indeed, this kitty decided to show her claws tonight.”
“And who would be the poor fortunate soul trapped in your claws tonight?” Kuai prodded, smirking at your wink while Tomas crossed his arms and grinned like he knew he was in danger.
“Who knows, Kuai?” you purred, letting your voice drip like honey. “Might even be one of you two.”
Both men froze for half a second, biting their lips in unison like you’d sucker-punched them with pure temptation. You laughed, delighted, and they shook their heads—half flustered, half amused—as conversation drifted on.
Eventually, you tilted your head. “And where’s your brother?”
Tomas’ voice rumbled easily, “Balcony. Outside. That way.” He pointed toward the sliding doors.
“Thank you, boys,” you sang, already turning, hips swaying with zero remorse for the chaos you left in your wake. “I’ll see you two later. Have fun!”
“Later, Whisky!” Tomas called, teasing.
Kuai lifted a hand and flicked it in a lazy goodbye, eyes still tracking your silhouette like he wasn’t sure you were real.
The air on the balcony was cool, crisp, quiet. And then there was Bi-Han: standing there like a brick wall of frostbite and bad attitude, scaring off every mortal dumb enough to wander too close. You padded toward him like a lazy panther, all effortless curves and smug confidence.
He heard your footsteps before he saw you, turning just enough to catch your silhouette in his peripheral. You watched his eyes flick down your body, then back up—slow, deliberate, approving. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth like he was trying not to give you the satisfaction.
“Bi-Han…” you purred, leaning against the rail beside him, “you can’t just stand here looking so grouchy at a party.”
He exhaled, a little puff of frost curling out with it. “This environment,” he muttered flatly, “is irritating.”
“Mm. Tragic,” you teased lightly, brushing a fingertip over the metal railing near his hand.
That earned you his full attention. He turned, posture shifting just enough to face you completely, eyes dragging over you again like he was committing every inch to memory. The slight tilt of his head, the subtle way he smirked, the soft grunt he made under his breath—all of it said exactly what his mouth didn’t:
He liked what he saw.
“Why bother coming, hmm?” you laughed softly.
He let out the most put-upon sigh known to man and—yes—actually rolled his eyes.
“My insipid brothers insisted I attend. A ‘change of scenery,’ as Tomas dumbly put it.” His scowl deepened like the memory physically pained him.
You pouted dramatically and reached out to poke his arm.
“Loosen up a bit, parties can be fun if you let them!”
He side-eyed you so hard you could feel it in your soul. A look full of distaste, as if the mere idea of “fun” offended him on a spiritual level.
Then—grudgingly, stubbornly—his shoulders shifted. Not much, barely anything. But enough for you to notice.
You grinned. “Come on, Bi-Han! Live a little!”
Your eyes narrowed playfully, mischief curling in your tone.
“Maybe I’ll help you find someone who can help you destress for the night,” you added, wiggling your brows teasingly.
The glare he shot you could’ve frozen the sun.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Bi-Han’s voice was flat as a blade, absolutely deadpanned. You cackled, delighted, and wiggled your fingers at him in a dramatic little farewell before slipping back inside.
Time to hunt down the rest of your crew.
Funny enough, still no Raiden. Usually you’d spot him the second you walked into a room—either because he gravitated toward you or because you could feel those soft, shy eyes on you instantly. Weird. But whatever. You’d trip over him eventually.
You stepped into the kitchen and immediately lost it.
Kung Lao and Kenshi were locked in what could only be described as the drunkest, dumbest, most emotionally charged beer pong match in the Realm. Lao was swaying like a decorative bamboo fountain. Kenshi, somehow, was managing to play with perfect posture despite being absolutely plastered.
And by the looks of the table?
Lao was getting obliterated.
Lord Liu Kang stood off to the side holding a cup, the picture of serene amusement. There was this faint little smile on his face like he was watching children play a game they invented five minutes ago and were already taking too seriously.
Your laugh cut clean through the room, bright enough to yank every male head toward you like you were the sun itself.
“Y/N!!” Lao practically screeched, stumbling toward you with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever on espresso. Before you could dodge, he scooped you up and spun you like you weighed nothing.
“Lao—! Put me down!” you giggled, clutching his shoulders as he wobbled like a drunk top.
He plopped you back onto your feet… then immediately gave you a blatant head-to-toe once-over.
“Damn, you’re hot!”
You snorted so hard you nearly choked. “Thank you, idiot.”
Kenshi approached next, moving with that slow, composed confidence of a man two sips away from being a disaster but determined to pretend he wasn’t.
“You truly are,” he said, voice low, dangerously close to shameless.
And then Liu Kang—smiling like he was absolutely above all this debauchery but secretly living for the chaos—added with a teasing lift of his brow,
“You do clean up extremely well, Y/N.”
Three different flavors of flattery, all hitting at once.
Typical.
You gave them a grin sharp enough to cut glass, tossing in a wink that hit all three men like a critical hit. Then you strutted—full hips, slow steps, deliberate tease—right into the center of the kitchen. Your heels clicked like punctuation as you did a lazy spin, the dress hugging you like a sin incarnate.
You came to a stop just in front of Liu Kang, close enough for him to catch your perfume, smile wicked and knowing.
“Thanks, guys,” you purred, turning toward the counter, “I do try.”
And try you did—judging by the way all three of them looked like they’d forgotten how to breathe.
Liu only shook his head, expression maddeningly unreadable except for the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Kenshi subtly turned his face away, like that’d hide the fact his ears were pink. Lao? Lao outright drooled before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve like a caveman.
You grabbed a cup, fighting the urge to laugh your ass off.
Men. Total putty.
You sipped the last of your drink, warmth starting to hum pleasantly beneath your skin. Kenshi and Lao had officially entered the “chaotic clown duo” phase of drunk competition, tossing ping-pong balls like their vision was on a three-second delay. One ball missed completely and ricocheted off the fridge. Another hit Kenshi in the shin. You and Liu both clamped hands over your mouths to stifle the snickers.
It felt good—really good—seeing them unwind like this. It didn’t happen often. You soaked in the moment, even as you mentally lit a candle for Lao’s incoming hangover.
The buzz behind your eyes deepened, your limbs feeling lighter. Liu noticed immediately, the damn observant deity he was. He leaned down, voice brushing against your ear like warm velvet.
“Careful, Y/N,” he murmured, low and gentle. “Don’t drink so much you lose awareness of where you are.”
You turned your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze with a small, warm smile.
“I won’t,” you assured softly. “Thank you for worrying. This’ll be my last one for now. I’m grabbing water after this.”
Your eyes flicked toward the disaster duo.
“I don’t want to end up plastered like… that.”
Kenshi missed the cup again. Lao laughed so hard he almost fell backwards.
You and Liu shared a perfectly synchronized deadpan stare before dissolving into quiet laughter all over again.
You pushed off the counter with a little wobble in your heels, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, and twisted the cap open. Kenshi and Lao were too deep into their chaos to notice you leaving—until Lao whipped around to wave goodbye and immediately got domed in the forehead by Kenshi’s rogue ping-pong ball.
The thwack echoed like a gunshot.
Lao’s soul momentarily left his body.
You slapped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried so hard not to burst into full-body laughter. Kenshi muttered a slurred, horrified “bro—” while Lao swayed in place like he was buffering.
You escaped the crime scene before either man regained dignity.
Back in the heart of Johnny’s ridiculous mansion-party, you drifted through bodies, bass vibrations, and neon lights. You greeted a few Earthrealmers, dodged a very drunk actor who thought you were “that one hot chick from his dream,” and snagged another water bottle just in case.
But the longer you wandered, the more something felt… off.
You hadn’t seen Raiden.
Not once.
Not in the kitchen.
Not near the balcony.
Not being dragged into a conversation by Johnny.
Not sipping tea in a corner like the polite little thunder gentleman he was.
A tiny pout tugged at your lips.
You missed him. You always did when he wasn’t hovering somewhere in your peripheral like your favorite quiet storm cloud.
So you set your drink aside, straightened your dress, flicked your hair back like the dangerous little feline goddess you were…
And set off on a mission.
Find Raiden.
Claim Raiden.
Preferably curl up on Raiden.
The hunt began.
You’d searched every corner of Johnny’s chaos-fest of a mansion, weaving through bodies, smoke machines, and whatever questionable music he had blasting, but Raiden’s scent was nowhere. Not even a trace. Your tail would’ve been lashing if it had been out.
Annoyed, you slipped down the quieter hall and pushed open the library door. The instant it shut behind you, the noise outside dropped to a blessed, muffled hum. You exhaled in relief.
A soft flip of a turning page made your ears perk.
You looked up.
And there he was — the man you’d been hunting down for the last half hour, tucked away in an armchair, completely absorbed in a book. Your face lit up like someone had shoved a sun inside your chest.
“Raiden…!” you whined, half complaint, half delighted squeal.
He startled slightly, head snapping up. He must’ve been so into his reading that he didn’t even notice you enter until you said his name.
Raiden hadn’t even finished inhaling before you launched yourself onto his lap, knocking his book clean out of his hands. He froze like someone had hit him with a stun spell. You immediately burrowed into his neck, purring against his skin, snuggling into him like you owned the spot.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out. Just a slow blink and a very overwhelmed inhale.
When he finally managed to look down at you, you were already curled into his lap like a smug little heater, your tail-wag energy radiating even in human form. His lips twitched — barely, but enough to give him away.
“I was looking for you,” you complained, voice muffled against his collarbone. “You disappeared. I said hi to everyone but you!”
A soft chuckle escaped him, warm and shy. “Sorry… I’m not really a big fan of parties.”
You pulled back just enough to pout up at him, eyes big and dramatic. “Could’ve at least made it easier to find you.”
He laughed softly, the sound all warm honey and nerves. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.
But then his hands—those big, gentle, perpetually careful hands—settled on your thigh.
Your bare thigh.
Everything in him short-circuited at once.
His gaze dropped before he could stop himself, and the moment he realized what you were wearing, his soul visibly left his body. His eyes went comically wide as he took in the low cut of your dress, the sinful curve of your cleavage, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you, and how the hem had ridden so far up it was practically whispering threats at his self-control.
His breath caught. Then he snapped his head up so fast you heard the air shift, inhaling sharply like he’d been caught doing something illegal.
You glanced down at yourself, realized exactly what he’d just seen, and a tiny “ohhh” clicked into place in your brain.
Yeah. Okay. That explained the way he was sitting there like he’d just been hit by lightning.
A slow, wicked little smirk curled onto your lips.
If the universe was going to hand you a flustered Raiden wrapped in a pretty bow, who were you to refuse?
You melted further into him, body sliding flush against his like you had every intention of climbing inside his skin. Your thigh brushed his hip. Your chest pressed sweetly against his chest. You purred like the most innocent little troublemaker alive, eyes drifting up to him through your lashes.
“So you’ve just been reading this whole time?” you asked, voice all soft sweetness, pretending you weren’t actively destroying every remaining brain cell in his head.
Poor man didn’t stand a chance.
Raiden actually trembled when you pressed closer, poor man going stiff as a board under you. His face was bright red, his hands frozen exactly where they rested on your thigh like he was terrified to move them an inch.
“…yes…” he mumbled shyly, eyes glued to literally anywhere but you. The ceiling was suddenly fascinating. The floor? Incredible. Your face? Absolutely forbidden.
Yeah, no. This would not do.
You gave a soft little hum and tugged at the hem of his shirt, just enough to coax his attention downward. He finally looked at you, tentative, like one wrong move would cause him to combust on the spot.
You hit him with the sweetest, most dangerous smile in your arsenal.
“Let’s dance!” you chirped, hopeful and bright, like you weren’t single-handedly frying every neuron in his head.
If his blush got any deeper, the man was going to self-ignite.
Raiden looked at your offered hand like it was a live grenade.
“…dance?” he echoed, voice cracking just a little.
“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, already rising to your feet. You smoothed your dress with a quick practiced sweep, then held your hand out to him again, expectant, unbothered, glowing.
His eyes bounced from your hand… to the door… to your face… back to your hand—as if weighing the pros and cons of dying here or dying out there. But in the end? He took your hand. Because honestly, who in their right mind could say no to you?
Your smile was instant and radiant, and Raiden looked like the warmth alone nearly melted him.
You tugged him out of the library, dragging him back into the noise and lights. The music had shifted; no more upbeat chaos. Now the air practically thrummed with sensual bass and low vocals, the kind of song that made bodies naturally move slower and closer.
You didn’t even think about it—you just started swaying your hips in time with the beat, pulling Raiden along with every roll and dip. He followed like he was tethered to you by instinct alone.
When you reached the center of the room, you caught his wrist and guided him behind you, sliding his hands onto your waist. His breath hitched audibly. You leaned back against his chest, fitting against him perfectly as the rhythm settled into your bones.
Slow. Warm. Teasing.
You swayed, and Raiden swayed with you, hands trembling slightly but holding you all the same.
Your hand slid up behind you, fingers curling at the nape of his neck. The moment you tugged, Raiden folded like wet paper, bending down to your height without a shred of resistance. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.
You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush the shell of his ear, your voice low and sweet.
“Relax…” you murmured, purring the word. “I won’t bite… not unless you ask nicely.”
Raiden shuddered—full-body, visible—his hands tightening on your waist before he caught himself. You pressed back into him, slow and sensual, guiding him into the rhythm until he couldn’t help but follow.
And step by step, sway by sway, he loosened.
His grip became surer. His breath steadied against your neck. His hips finally started matching yours, rolling with you, not behind you. His chest pressed flush to your back, warm and steady. The tension melted out of him like warm honey.
Soon enough, Raiden wasn’t just following your movements.
He was dancing with you.
Your smile softened, satisfaction warming your chest as Raiden finally let go enough to enjoy the moment with you. Gods, it only took you dragging him out here like a kidnapped Victorian maiden, but hey… results.
Your gaze drifted lazily across the dance floor. Kuai was absolutely embarrassing some poor soul with his smooth footwork, Liu Kang was sipping a drink like a serene deity judging everyone’s choices, and—
Oh.
Tomas was grinding on some girl like he’d been possessed by the spirit of a nightclub demon. You watched him dip his head, whisper something that made her clutch his shoulders, and your brows shot up in delight. You smirked to yourself, silently cheering him on. Good for him. About damn time.
You closed your eyes again, letting the bass pulse through your bones, your hips rolling into Raiden’s as naturally as breathing. You tilted your head back against his shoulder, exposing your neck without even thinking.
And Raiden—sweet, shy, hopelessly smitten Raiden—reacted on instinct.
He dipped his head, lips brushing the curve of your neck in the softest, most reverent touch. Barely there. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed, but couldn’t stop himself either.
Your pulse fluttered.
His breath hitched against your skin.
And gods… the way he held your waist tightened, subtle but hungry.
Raiden felt you shiver, your whole body reacting to him like you were wired straight into his nerves.
“…Is this… ok?” he breathed, barely audible, terrified he’d overstepped.
You slid your hand up the back of his neck and held him there—gentle, but firm. A claim.
“This is more than ok,” you whispered, lips curled into a sultry little smile that absolutely wrecked him.
Raiden inhaled sharply, fingers spasming at your waist before finally settling in a tight, desperate grip.
And then you rolled your hips back into him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Sinful.
The poor man almost folded in half.
He wasn’t built for this kind of stimulation. Not yet. Not when he was still half farm boy, half thunder god, all flustered mess. He could feel something coil inside him—dark, warm, possessive—rising with every drag of your body against his.
He didn’t know what to do with it.
Didn’t know if he should do anything at all.
But then Kenshi’s words hit him like a lightning strike.
“When have you ever seen her be that affectionate with any of us?”
“She prefers to be near you.”
“She likes you, idiot.”
And suddenly, something clicked in his chest. Something bold. Something reckless. Something that told him that maybe you wanted him just as intensely as he wanted you.
His hands slid down your hips, gripping tighter… and he leaned in.
He dipped his head lower, breath warm against your skin he nipped right at the base of your neck. Gentle, but claiming. The tiny, startled gasp that left you went straight to his spine. He groaned—quiet, needy—and his hands clamped firmer on your hips.
The shift was subtle at first.
Then not subtle at all.
Your slow sway turned into a deep, heady grind as he pulled you flush against him, moving with you like the two of you were meant to fit exactly like this. Your breath hitched, your knees wobbled, and then—
You mewled.
You didn’t even try to hide it.
And he definitely didn’t try to hide how it affected him.
You tilted your head further, exposing your neck like an offering and Raiden took it, lips brushing reverently along your pulse, then down, then back up again.
His voice was a low rumble behind your ear, barely holding it together.
“…I can’t stop touching you.”
“Then don’t,” you breathed, voice melting into a moan that almost short-circuited the man behind you.
His hands slid lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your dress. Testing. Asking. Begging without a single word. You parted your legs just a little, barely—but to him it was as obvious as a neon sign.
He swallowed hard.
Then one of his hands moved.
A warm, calloused palm spread over your thigh, dwarfing it entirely, fingers wrapping almost around the whole thing. He exhaled shakily against your neck, clearly trying not to combust on the spot as his thumb traced slow, careful circles over your skin.
He was trembling.
You were purring.
And the DJ could’ve changed the track to a fire alarm and neither of you would’ve noticed.
Raiden slid his hand just a bit higher—barely an inch—and you felt the air leave your lungs.
His breath ghosted your ear.
“Tell me,” he whispered, voice dark and reverent, “if you want… more.”
You whined at Raiden softly, still grinding back against him in that slow, sensual rhythm the music pulled from your body. The fog machine hissed again, smoke curling low, lights dimmed to a hazy red and purple. It was the perfect kind of cover—not quite dark, not quite visible—just enough for sin to slip by unnoticed.
No one around you seemed to be paying attention.
Everyone was too busy dancing, grinding, flirting, losing themselves in Johnny’s chaotic neon nightclub of a mansion.
You weren’t even thinking about the others… until your eyes flicked across the dance floor.
And locked right onto Kenshi.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, half lit, half shadow, a drink in hand. His expression was impossible to miss. Lips curved into a slow, dark smirk. Head angled just enough to show interest, just enough to show understanding. His eyes lowered briefly—right where Raiden’s hand was slowly sliding between your legs—then lifted back to your face.
He bit his lower lip.
Raised his drink slightly.
And nodded his head once, slowly.
Like he was telling you,
Go on. I’m watching.
Heat flared through you. A tiny, wicked smile ghosted your lips before you turned your head a fraction, pressing your cheek against Raiden’s jaw. You could feel him trembling behind you, hands so large they practically swallowed your thighs as his fingers crept higher.
“Please touch me…” you whispered, voice trembling with real need—
But your eyes never left Kenshi’s.
Raiden groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating right against your back.
“As you wish… kitten,” he breathed, voice rough in a way you’d never heard from him before.
His hand finally moved—slow, hesitant at first—trailing up your thigh like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched you wrong. You felt every inch of that trembling climb, your breath hitching the closer he got.
Then his fingers brushed your inner thigh, sliding higher, until finally—
He froze.
Because he’d reached your soaked, bare core.
No panties. No barrier. Just you.
Raiden sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, whole body jolting behind you.
“You’re…”
His voice cracked.
“…you’re not wearing anything under this.”
You turned your head slightly, lips brushing his cheek, letting your body press closer to his.
“Surprise?” you whispered breathlessly, teasing, a purr curling under your words.
Raiden shuddered—actually shuddered—his hand flexing against your dripping heat. His fingers moved without him even realizing it, instinct overriding all that sweet-boy hesitation he usually lived in. He slid through your slick folds, and the moment he felt just how wet you were?
Raiden huffed—quiet, stunned.
He definitely hadn’t expected you to be dripping for him like this.
Not so soon.
Not so shamelessly.
Not for him.
His fingertips dragged slowly over your clit, barely-there pressure that had your whole body jolting. Then he slipped lower, tracing the soaked mess between your thighs, teasing your entrance with light dips that had you clenching around nothing.
You kept your moans low—barely audible over the music. Your dress had ridden up scandalously, exposing the soft curve of your thigh and a tempting glimpse of your bare heat every time the colored lights flashed. You could feel it. You knew exactly how exposed you were.
And Raiden?
He knew too.
You felt him swallow behind you, chest pressed tightly to your back, breath trembling as his hand moved again—slow, cautious, worshipful—gathering more of the wetness dripping down your thighs.
“…you’re soaked,” he whispered, voice breaking with disbelief and need as his fingers circled your clit again.
Every word, every breath from him hit like sparks along your spine, dragging another helpless shiver right out of you.
He continued to toy with you, dragging you right to the edge of sanity with every slow, deliberate stroke. His touch sparked along every nerve, warm and electric and maddening, but it still wasn’t enough. Not even close.
You moaned softly, parting your legs wider, giving his hand more space—an invitation he took without thinking. Raiden’s fingers dipped back inside you, teasing your clit in small, sensual circles that made your knees weaken.
You shut your eyes for a moment only to crack them open again.
Kenshi was still there.
Still leaning against the wall.
Still watching.
Eyes low-lidded, dark, and trained on where Raiden’s hand disappeared beneath your dress.
Your gaze swept down his form—and you caught the faint bulge straining against his pants. Your breath hitched. Your eyes snapped back up to his. Kenshi’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.
He mouthed it deliberately.
“Good girl.”
You whimpered, your hips jerking helplessly against Raiden’s hand at the praise.
“…Raiden…” you moaned, voice thin.
He hummed in acknowledgment, thumb brushing your clit again.
“…K-Kenshi’s… watching us…”
Raiden paused just a heartbeat, looking up. His gaze locked with Kenshi’s across the dance floor. Kenshi’s brows lifted—silently asking permission, silently asking if he could keep watching.
Raiden swallowed hard, then leaned closer to your ear, voice barely audible over the bass.
“…do you want him to keep watching you?”
His fingers pinched your clit again—light, precise, devastating. Your whole body jolted, breath catching in your throat as the music throbbed around you.
You shivered.
“Are you… ok with that?” you breathed, voice trembling with want.
Raiden didn’t answer right away. He just felt you—how wet you were, how your thighs trembled around his hand, how your back pressed tighter against him like you were begging him to swallow you whole. His silence made your stomach drop… until he spoke, voice low and dark against your ear.
“I don’t mind,” he murmured. “If you want, we could leave.”
His fingers stroked you slowly, deliberately.
“Or… we could give him a show.”
You bit your lip hard, heat blooming up your neck.
Your eyes flicked back to Kenshi.
Still watching.
Still smirking.
His bulge even more obvious now, his chest rising just a little faster.
Your gaze dragged down deliberately, taking in every inch of the strain under his belt. Kenshi’s jaw flexed—just the smallest twitch—but you saw it. Felt the effect you had on him.
Your thighs pressed together helplessly, trapping Raiden’s hand between them as you inhaled sharply.
“…please continue…” you whispered, barely audible.
Raiden groaned behind you, the sound vibrating into your spine as his fingers plunged back between your legs—slow, deep, and sinful—with Kenshi watching every second.
Raiden slid his hands down your thighs and eased them apart, slow and deliberate, like he wanted Kenshi to see exactly how boldly you were letting him touch you. His fingers dipped between your legs again, working you open with an obscene confidence that made your breath leave your body in one shaking exhale.
Your head fell back onto his shoulder, mouth parting on a silent cry you couldn’t hold in.
Gods, he had you melting.
His other hand dragged up your torso, stopping at the plunge of your dress. He curled his fingers into the neckline and tugged—just enough for the fabric to slip, revealing the soft swell of your chest and the faintest hint of your pretty nipples. The cool air hit your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and your breathing stuttered into something downright sinful.
Raiden’s mouth pressed to your neck… then lower… then higher again. Soft kisses, slow drags of his lips, like he was memorizing the shape of you. Your whole body trembled, every nerve tightening toward him.
Your hips twitched helplessly, pressing into his hand.
A quiet, needy gasp slipped out of you.
Across the room, Kenshi’s stance shifted—subtle but unmistakable. His eyes were locked on where Raiden held you, darkened, hungry, absolutely devouring the sight.
Raiden’s teeth grazed your neck again, just enough to make your breath hitch. The sound you let slip—quiet, needy—went straight to his head. His lips curved against your skin.
“Doing so well for us, kitten,” he murmured, voice roughened with something dark and reverent. “Putting on such a good show for Kenshi… aren’t you?”
Your whole body reacted before your mind could catch up—your core tightened around his fingers so sharply that Raiden groaned in approval, the vibration sinking deliciously into your skin.
He picked up the pace.
Slow, teasing strokes turned into firm, deliberate ones, the kind that made your knees threaten to give out if his arm at your waist wasn’t holding you upright. The beat of the party throbbed around you, but all you could hear was the slick sound of his fingers working you open and the deep, steady breath he took against your throat.
His other hand slipped beneath your dress, palm warm against your bare skin before he cupped your breast. His thumb brushed over the hardened peak, slow circle, then a soft squeeze that pulled a louder sound out of you than you meant to let happen.
“R–Raiden… ahh—”
Your voice cracked in your throat.
He shushed you gently, voice low and soothing even as his fingers kept pushing you closer to the edge.
“Easy… easy, kitten,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. “You don’t want everyone hearing how sweet you sound for us… do you?”
Across the room, Kenshi swore under his breath—low, sharp, like the sight of you physically hurt him.
Gods, you were a vision.
Even in the dim light he could see everything: the thin sheen of sweat gathering at your collarbone, the swell of your chest barely contained by the dress, your nipples peeking through the fabric like they were begging for attention. Raiden’s hand moved beneath your hem and Kenshi could see the wet shine spreading down your thighs, every curl of Raiden’s fingers leaving you dripping onto his knuckles.
He could practically feel how tightly you must’ve been clenching—your body trembling, breath broken, Raiden whispering into your throat while you came apart inch by inch.
Kenshi bit his lip hard.
One hand stayed wrapped around his drink. The other slid down, slow and helpless, pressing the heel of his palm against the throbbing bulge straining in his pants.
He cursed again—quiet but filthy—because you looked like temptation incarnate… and Raiden was already sinking into every part of you.
A darker part of him wanted to cross the room right then. To kneel between your legs while Raiden held you open. To hear you fall apart—but for both of them this time.
For now, he stayed where he was, jaw tight, breath uneven, eyes devouring every second of the scene you two were giving him.
And god help him… he hoped you kept going.
Raiden’s gaze drifted across the dance floor—cutting through the fog and lights—until it landed squarely on Kenshi.
Kenshi felt it immediately.
A pull.
A warning.
An invitation.
He lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what Raiden wanted.
Raiden’s only answer was a slow, dark smirk, the kind Kenshi had never seen on his usually gentle friend.
Then Raiden withdrew his fingers from between your legs. Kenshi couldn’t hear anything—there was too much noise, too much bass, too much chaos for his senses to pick out the small details—but he saw the way your body twitched. He saw your hand clutch at Raiden’s arm. He saw your lips part in a breathless shape he recognized all too well.
Raiden murmured something against your ear and the way you softened under him told enough.
Then, with deliberate slowness, Raiden slid his hand back between your thighs.
He didn’t look at you.
He didn’t look at the dance floor.
He kept his eyes locked on Kenshi.
And then he tipped your hips forward just enough, using his fingers to spread you open, your slick glistening in the colored lights. Kenshi bit back a groan—every muscle in his body going tight. You were clenching visibly, fluttering, wet to the point of dripping.
Kenshi felt his jaw go slack. His breath caught in his throat. Heat punched low in his stomach, sharp and electric.
He wasn’t hearing a damn thing—just watching.
Watching you.
Watching Raiden’s hand.
Watching a scene he’d only allowed himself to imagine in the darkest corners of his mind.
Raiden cocked his head at him.
A small movement.
A simple gesture.
But the meaning slammed into Kenshi like a physical hit.
Come here.
Kenshi grunted low in his throat at the silent offer, the sound barely audible under the music but heavy with meaning.
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, shoulders tense, leaning against the wall as his eyes dragged back down to your soaked, visibly clenching cunt… then up to Raiden again.
A beat.
A breath.
A decision.
He pushed off the wall slowly, rolling his shoulders back. He lifted his drink, downed the rest in one smooth swallow, and set the empty cup onto a nearby table without breaking eye contact.
Each step he took toward you two was deliberate, unhurried, like he was savoring the moment.
Just as he neared, Raiden slid his fingers back inside you with purpose. Two fingers, deep, firm, curling just the way he knew made your knees weaken.
You gasped sharply, your body jolting.
And this time Kenshi heard it.
A small, broken mewl.
Barely a sound in all the noise, but he caught it.
He felt it.
And his pupils blew wide in response.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Your eyes had stayed shut, lost in the shiver of Raiden’s fingers working you open again. You were clinging to his wrist, silently begging for more, hips rolling helplessly. You were so close you could barely think, every nerve tightening like a drawn bowstring.
He pushed his fingers back into you, slow but deep, and your entire body lit up.
Everything buzzed. Your breath stuttered.
You were right there. Right on the ledge.
And then—
A presence.
Warm. Solid. Right in front of you.
Before you could even register who it was, before your lashes even parted—
A voice dipped low into your ear, velvety and sinful:
“That’s my good girl… go on. Cum all over his fingers.”
You gasped so hard your whole body jerked.
Your eyes snapped open at the sound of Kenshi’s voice—that deep, restrained rumble knocking the last thread of control clean out of you.
Your spine arched.
Your knees shook.
And you snapped—clenching down violently around Raiden’s fingers as your orgasm tore through you, hot and overwhelming and entirely out of your control.
Kenshi’s breath ghosted your cheek.
Raiden groaned quietly behind you, feeling you squeeze around him like you were trying to pull him in. You were still fluttering around his fingers, overstimulated and trembling, and it was taking everything in him not to lose whatever was left of his composure.
Kenshi dipped his head and pressed a slow, heated kiss to the swell of your breast, lips dragging upward just enough to make your back arch again. His hand steadied your hip as Raiden’s fingers kept working you—slow, deliberate pumps that made your legs threaten to give out. The two of them were practically holding you upright.
“Kenshi…! Nghh… Raiden…”
Your voice was ruined, soft and pleading and wrecked.
Both men groaned at the sound, the kind of raw sound that came from the chest, from instinct, from want.
Kenshi tore his mouth from your skin just long enough to speak, his breath brushing your exposed chest.
“We should move this somewhere else,” he muttered, voice rough and vibrating against you. His eyes lifted, meeting Raiden’s over your shoulder. “It’s a miracle you two haven’t been caught already.”
Raiden hummed his agreement, low and strained, still buried in your neck.
His fingers slid out of you slowly—too slowly—making you whine and clutch at his arm.
“We’re not stopping,” Raiden murmured, his voice dangerously gentle. “Just changing rooms.”
Kenshi smirked, thumb brushing your lower lip as if wiping a droplet of honey.
“Come on, kitten,” he breathed. “Let’s go before we give the whole party a show.”
Raiden’s tongue dragged slowly along his fingers, savoring you like he was tasting something forbidden and finally letting himself indulge. His eyes fluttered half-lidded, a deep groan rumbling up from his chest at the taste.
You shivered hard.
Kenshi’s nostrils flared, jaw tightening as he watched Raiden lick his fingers clean without an ounce of shame.
Both men took their time fixing you up—almost tenderly. Kenshi smoothed your dress down over your hips, making sure the fabric wasn’t bunched. Raiden tugged the neckline back into place, thumbs brushing the edge of the dress where your breasts had nearly spilled out moments ago.
You felt their hands linger.
Dark eyes on you.
Hunger simmering beneath the surface.
Kenshi leaned in first, voice low enough that only you and Raiden could hear it.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, fingers grazing your waist. “Before I end up pinning you right here.”
Raiden’s eyes flicked to yours, slow and warm and heated.
“We won’t make it far if you keep looking at us like that,” he added, voice velvet-soft with warning and promise all at once.
And the three of you started to move—together.
Kuai practically materialized out of nowhere, blocking the hallway like a worried older brother. His eyes flicked over you—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, dress slightly rumpled—and his brows shot up in immediate concern.
“Y/N… are you alright?” he asked, voice dipping low.
You nodded a little too quickly, still breathless, still dazed.
Kenshi stepped forward before you could get another word out—calm, collected, lying through his teeth with zero hesitation.
“She’s drunk,” he said smoothly. “We’re taking her to rest in one of the rooms before she does something reckless.”
Given your current state, the story was… painfully believable.
Kuai blinked, then exhaled in relief. “Good. I’ll let the others know. Make sure she gets water.”
“Of course,” Raiden replied politely, even though his hand was already cupped around your waist, guiding you away.
Kuai stepped aside.
And just like that, the three of you slipped down the hall—swift, silent, determined.
Before the door even clicked shut, Kenshi had already swept you into his arms—your legs instinctively locking around his waist as if your body remembered him better than your mind. His grip tightened under your thighs, pulling you flush against him.
And gods… you felt everything.
His bulge pressed right against your bare core, grinding against your clit with every breath either of you took. The friction ripped a soft gasp from your throat, and Kenshi choked out a groan that sounded like he’d been holding it in all night.
Your slick smeared hot and shameless across the front of his pants, darkening the fabric. He hissed at the sensation, muscles flexing beneath your hands.
You clung to him, panting, thighs tightening around him as if trying to pull him even closer.
Raiden stood a few feet away at first… just watching.
The calm, gentle farm boy gone—replaced by something darker, something hungry. His chest rose and fell a little too fast, eyes fixed on where Kenshi held you pinned against him.
Slowly, deliberately, Raiden stepped behind you. You felt the warmth of him first—something electric in the air, like the quiet before a storm breaks.
He didn’t touch you.
Not yet.
He just stood behind you, close enough that your back brushed his chest when you breathed.
His presence alone made your spine straighten, made goosebumps erupt across your skin. His breath ghosted the back of your neck, and you swore your knees would’ve buckled if Kenshi wasn’t holding you up.
Kenshi’s laugh wasn’t really a laugh—more like a low, dark ripple of approval—right before he pressed you against Raiden, forcing him back against the wall. The movement sent a jolt through you, your body caught between them, Raiden’s quiet groan vibrating against your spine as your backside brushed him in a way that made all three of you tense.
You let out a helpless little sound, high in your throat. Being pressed between them like that, surrounded by their heat and strength, made your pulse stutter.
Strong hands slid under you, loosening your legs from around Kenshi’s waist only to catch you. Raiden's grip was firmer—possessive even—as he lifted you effortlessly. Your thighs were spread in his hold, your back pressed to his chest, your breath catching at the sudden shift in power.
Kenshi stepped away just enough to look… and gods, did he look.
His gaze dragged over you slowly, his chest rising with a hungry breath he didn’t bother hiding. In the low light he looked carved from shadow, all sharp jaw and dark eyes, the kind of man who could devour something with a glance alone.
“Look at you…” he murmured, voice gravel-soft, reverent and sinful at the same time.
Raiden shifted behind you, his breath brushing your ear as he held you wide and open for Kenshi’s inspection, his own heartbeat thudding hard against your back.
You were trembling, caught between them, caught by them.
Kenshi reached up, sliding his thumb along your thigh—slow, deliberate—testing how much you could take.
“Perfect like this,” he said softly. “Held by him… and looked at by me.”
Raiden let out this shaky little laugh behind you, the sound puffing warm against your neck as his hands urged your thighs open just a little more.
“You should… try her,” he breathed, voice low and ragged. “She’s unbelievable.”
The words alone made your pulse skip.
Kenshi’s expression shifted instantly—like someone had just handed him permission for something he’d been hungry for all night. That wicked curve pulled at his mouth as he dropped smoothly to his knees in front of you.
You whimpered—soft, instinctive—because the sight of him looking up at you from that angle did something devastating to your nerves.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, smirking up at you, “I’ll be gentle… until you ask otherwise.”
Then he leaned in.
His mouth met you with one slow, deliberate drag—warm, firm, savoring you like he’d wanted this for far too long. Your whole body jerked in Raiden’s hold, a strangled sound tearing from your throat before you could stop it.
Raiden tightened his arms around you, breathing your name like a prayer as heat washed through you in a dizzying wave.
Kenshi groaned—deep, appreciative—his hands sliding along your waist as he tasted you again, slower this time, purposeful in a way that made your knees shake even though you weren’t standing.
His voice dropped into something torn and hungry, practically vibrating against you.
“…fuck… you taste unreal, kitten.”
Your breath stuttered, head tipping back against Raiden’s shoulder as his arms caged you in place. You couldn’t move—couldn’t even try—not when Kenshi was working into you with that kind of focus, that kind of devotion, like he was trying to memorize every one of your reactions from the inside out.
“K-Kenshi—” your voice cracked, hips twitching helplessly in Raiden’s grip.
Raiden groaned behind you, because he could feel everything—every shiver, every stutter, every sharp little jolt that went through you the second Kenshi pressed in deeper, exploring you with a slow, deliberate insistence that bordered on obscene.
Your legs spasmed, thighs shaking, and Raiden tightened his hold.
“She’s losing it,” he murmured against your ear, voice thick. “Look at her…”
Kenshi did.
He looked up at you while he kept moving exactly how you needed—eyes dark, mouth wet, expression already wrecked like the taste of you had pushed him halfway over the edge.
“Good,” he murmured, dragging his lips against you in a way that made your whole body jolt. “I want you to come apart for us.”
Raiden’s grip flexed.
You whimpered.
And Kenshi dove back in with intent.
And that’s exactly how you came apart for the second time. Kenshi’s tongue pushed into you with that sharp, hungry determination, dragging slow circles around your clit before flicking it with just enough pressure to make your whole body tighten. He alternated between dipping inside you and teasing the bundle of nerves until you were trembling uncontrollably in Raiden’s arms.
Your thighs kept twitching against Raiden’s grip, the tension coiling so tight you could barely breathe. The moment your back arched, Raiden laughed breathlessly against your shoulder.
“She’s gonna cum…” he chuckled, low and ruined.
And Kenshi didn’t stop. He held your hips steady, eyes locked on your face as you finally broke—coming apart on his tongue, shaking, clenching, helpless. He watched every second, licking up your release slowly, deliberately, like he planned to memorize the taste.
Kenshi rose slowly, face slick with your release, breathing heavier than before. He slid his hands under your hips to take you back from Raiden’s hold, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You whimpered softly as he set you down on the bed, your body still twitching in little aftershocks, a weak mewl escaping you every time your thighs brushed together.
Behind him, Raiden had already shed his top and pants, left only in his underwear—the outline of him straining sharp and obvious against the fabric. His chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm, eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you on the sheets.
Kenshi stepped back to undress as well, fingers moving with a practiced slowness, watching Raiden with undisguised interest.
Before he could finish, Raiden crawled up the bed and settled between your legs. His arms hooked under your thighs, pulling you forward until your heat met his mouth, and he started gently cleaning you with slow, reverent strokes. The unexpected sensation jolted through you like lightning, your whole body jerking in his hold, a broken sound leaving your throat.
Kenshi paused mid-undress, watching the way Raiden’s shoulders flexed, watching the way you writhed.
When Raiden finally pulled back from between your legs, he didn’t leave you cold for a second. He trailed slow, lingering kisses up the inside of your thigh… your hip… your stomach… each one sending another shiver crawling up your spine.
He paused right beneath your breast, breath warm against your skin. Then he closed his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking gently before letting his tongue flick against the stiff peak. His hand came up to cup the other breast, thumb circling lazily, teasingly, as if he wanted to savor the way you trembled beneath him.
You gasped sharply when he bit down—gentle, controlled, but enough to send your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing eagerly into his face. Raiden groaned against your skin, the sound low and barely restrained, like your reaction alone was unraveling him.
You whined into Raiden’s mouth, fingers twisting into his soft hair, trying to pull him closer even though he already felt fused to your skin. His mouth tightened around you, hungry, and the way his hand rolled and tugged at your other peak made your back arch helplessly. Every pull of his fingers sent sparks racing along your nerves, your hips reacting before you could think—and the second your body dragged against the strain in his underwear, Raiden let out a sound that was nothing short of desperate.
That was all the warning you got before he pulled back just long enough to rip your dress clean off your body, the fabric hitting the floor in a careless heap.
Behind you, Kenshi had finished undressing down to a single thin layer, his breath already uneven. His stance was rigid discipline wrapped around pure hunger, one hand braced on the dresser beside him while the other slid beneath the waistband of his boxers—just enough to ease the pressure, not enough to break his last bit of control.
His eyes never left you.
Raiden didn’t even look back; he could feel Kenshi watching, could feel the heat in the room spike. His hands came back to you—firm on your waist, guiding, possessive, like he needed you right where you were and wasn’t planning on letting you move an inch.
You felt both of their attention like heat against your skin, two different kinds of hunger wrapping around you, drawing you in tighter and tighter until the air itself felt too thick to breathe.
Kenshi moved onto the bed beside you, the weight shift pulling you slightly toward him. His hand slid up your arm first, slow and warm, before he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. He tasted your skin there, lips brushing once… then again… trailing upward until he reached the swell of your chest.
His breath fanned over the peak Raiden had been teasing moments before. Kenshi paused there, lips hovering—almost like he was asking. Then he closed his mouth around you, soft at first, catching the sensitive skin between his lips before drawing a deeper pull that made your hips jerk.
Your hand flew to his hair, threading into the dark strands and tugging. Kenshi groaned at the pull—low and rough—and the vibration against your chest sent a shiver clean through you. He suckled again, slower this time, tongue sweeping over you with deliberate intent while his other hand braced against your ribs to steady you.
Raiden knelt between your open legs, watching every breathless twitch with dark, reverent eyes. He’d stripped down to nothing but sheer restraint, his body flushed as he slid his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider for him. His thumbs stroked along your inner thighs before he positioned himself at your entrance, the heat of him brushing where you were already soaked and throbbing.
He pressed in slow—agonizingly slow.
Your breath hitched, your chest arching into Kenshi’s mouth. Kenshi groaned around you, tightening his lips, drawing your nipple deeper into his mouth while Raiden eased forward another inch, his breath catching hard as your body clenched around him.
“Easy,” Kenshi murmured against your skin, though he was the one shaking from the way you tugged his hair.
Raiden’s fingers dug into your thighs, his control hanging by a thread as he sank deeper with careful, torturous patience. Every inch made your back lift off the sheets, made Kenshi’s mouth latch harder onto your chest, hungry for every little sound you made.
Then Kenshi’s hand moved.
He slid it down your stomach—slow, deliberate—until his fingertips reached the heat between your legs, right where Raiden was filling you so slowly it hurt. Kenshi let his knuckles brush Raiden’s lower stomach as his fingers slipped lower, finding your clit with ease.
The first circle was light. Testing.
You jolted, a choked sound catching in your throat.
Kenshi hummed in approval, mouth still wrapped around your breast as he stroked you again—firmer this time, in rhythm with the slow push of Raiden’s hips.
Your fingers yanked Kenshi’s hair. Kenshi groaned into your chest at the pull. Raiden groaned from the way you clenched around him.
The slow, careful push of his hips turned into something firmer… deeper… the kind of thrust that stole the air out of your lungs and made your back lift helplessly off the sheets. Each movement rocked you just enough to make your body bounce lightly beneath them—your breath coming out in soft, stuttered gasps.
Kenshi felt it too.
His fingers on your clit sped up instinctively, matching Raiden’s new tempo with smooth, purposeful circles that made your thighs twitch around Raiden’s waist. Kenshi’s mouth stayed latched to your breast, groaning low when the movement of your body tugged him along.
You finally let go of his hair, sliding your hand down the line of his stomach—bare skin tightening under your touch—until your fingers reached the waistband of his boxers. Kenshi froze for a half-second, a quiet gasp breaking against your chest when your hand slipped inside.
He was already pulsing hard in your palm.
And when you wrapped your fingers around his length and stroked him—slow, deliberate—Kenshi’s head dropped against your breast entirely, teeth grazing the swell as a raw groan tore from him.
“F…fuck…” he breathed against your skin, his grip on your thigh tightening.
Raiden’s eyes snapped to where your hand worked Kenshi, his own breath faltering. The sight—your fingers wrapped around Kenshi’s cock, Kenshi’s mouth at your chest, Kenshi panting helplessly into you—made Raiden’s hips jerk forward hard, burying himself deep inside you.
Your body arched violently at the push, a sharp cry escaping you.
Raiden groaned, the sound deep and guttural.
He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside your head, thrusting harder now—slow but powerful, each movement pressing so deep you felt him in your spine.
Kenshi’s hips bucked into your hand instinctively, a quiet curse slipping out between his teeth as he lifted his head just enough to look down at you.
“You’re… unbelievable,” Kenshi rasped, breath shaking as you stroked him.
Raiden’s gaze dragged over both of you—your flushed chest, Kenshi’s lips on your skin, your hand buried in Kenshi’s boxers—and his control snapped another inch.
You whined—high, needy, wrecked—at both of them.
Kenshi felt it first, the desperate tremble in your hand. He pulled back just enough for you to get a good grip on his waistband, and the second you tugged, he helped you—shoving his boxers down his thighs and kicking them off entirely.
Now he was bare for you.
And the moment your hand wrapped around his exposed length, Kenshi groaned—a low, broken sound—thrusting into your fist like he couldn’t stop himself. Every squeeze, every upward stroke had his breath hitching against your skin.
“H…haah—Y/N…” he moaned, your name cracking out of him as his hips bucked into your palm, “just like that…”
His hand found your clit again, circling it with trembling precision, sliding lower—bold enough to trace the sides of your slit. He could feel how wide and tight you were stretched around Raiden, feel where their bodies met.
Raiden choked on a groan, hips stuttering.
He felt Kenshi’s fingertips brushing against his length each time he thrust inside you—an electric shock of heat between the three of you.
“Gods…” Raiden breathed, voice shuddering as he buried himself deeper.
Before you could even gasp, Kenshi’s mouth crashed against yours.
His lips swallowed your moans greedily, tasting the smear of your lipstick on his tongue. He kissed you like he was starving—slow and deep, breath shaking each time Raiden thrust into you.
Your lipstick smeared across Kenshi’s mouth, staining him in that sinful red as you clung to both of them—one hand fisting Kenshi’s cock, Kenshi’s fingers stroking your clit, Raiden driving into your soaked core until your whole body trembled.
Raiden groaned, a deep, fractured sound torn straight from his chest.
He was right in front of you, knees on the mattress, hips snug between your thighs as he thrust into you—slow, deep, devastating. And he couldn’t drag his gaze away from the scene unfolding inches from him.
You and Kenshi, bodies pressed together at your side, kissing like you’d been starving for each other.
Kenshi’s lips smeared with your red lipstick, looking branded.
Your hand wrapped around his length, stroking slow and tight.
Kenshi groaning into your mouth every time your fist twisted up his shaft.
And Kenshi’s free hand… gods, the way it kept brushing against Raiden’s cock each time he circled your clit—accidental but intimate enough to make Raiden’s breath hitch each time.
It was driving him feral.
Raiden leaned forward, thrusting deeper, your body lifting slightly with each roll of his hips. He was barely holding himself together, eyes locked on your face, your lips, the way Kenshi devoured you.
He reached forward and wrapped his hand around yours.
Large, warm, steady.
He guided the stroke up Kenshi’s cock, your joined hands sliding from base to tip in perfect rhythm. Kenshi’s hips instantly bucked into the touch.
“H–holy—fuck…” Kenshi gasped against your lips, voice breaking.
His hand shook against your clit, circles stuttering as pleasure hit him.
Raiden groaned, forehead nearly resting against yours, his voice ragged:
“Just like that… gods, you look perfect like this…”
He dragged his thumb over your knuckles as he helped you stroke Kenshi harder, deeper. Kenshi moaned into your mouth—raw, helpless, needy—while Raiden’s thrusts grew slower but heavier, each one forcing a breathy sound from you.
Raiden choked on a sound that was half-moan, half-plea, his head tipping back for a moment as if the sight of you both was physically overwhelming. His fingers tightened around yours—just enough to force your hand to clamp harder around Kenshi’s cock.
Kenshi’s breath punched out of him.
Raiden’s voice came out ruined.
“You two… gods—you’re going to make me lose it…”
Kenshi growled right against your mouth, hips jerking helplessly into your joined hands.
“You’re going to make me lose it,” he panted, breath hot on your lips. “You both keep—ahh—squeezing me like that—”
Your body tightened instinctively around Raiden, and at the same time he and you tightened your grip on Kenshi again—slow, deliberate, merciless.
Kenshi broke.
“A-ah—fuck!” he groaned, voice cracking, hips bucking up into your fist like he couldn’t stop himself. His hand faltered on your clit, trembling, fingers slipping as he moaned through his teeth.
Raiden shuddered violently at the sound, thrusting deeper, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he gasped:
“Keep doing that… you sound—both of you—sound so…”
His voice dissolved into another strangled noise, hips rolling harder into you.
Kenshi broke first.
A sharp, desperate whine ripped from his throat—one so unguarded that his own eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it escaped him. His cheeks flushed a deep shade, the red traveling all the way down his neck as his cock twitched violently in your joined hands.
“I’m… gonna cum…” he breathed, small and wrecked, the words shaking as badly as his thighs.
You leaned in and bit his lip, just gentle enough to tease, just rough enough to push him over. Kenshi groaned into your mouth, shoulders tensing under your touch.
“Go on,” you whispered, voice thick and breathless. “Cum for us.”
Raiden looked up through his lashes—hungry, undone—right as he drove your hands down his shaft in a firm, perfect stroke. His thumb swept over Kenshi’s tip, slow and deliberate.
Kenshi shattered.
His moan cracked—broken, beautiful—as hot release spilled over both your hands. His hips jerked, uncontrolled, forcing more out, chasing it even as overstimulation hit him like a wave.
“F—fuck… you both… nghhh—!” he whined, the sound high and ruined, chest heaving, cock still twitching in your grip.
Raiden grunted at the sight, thrusts stuttering inside you.
The moment Kenshi came apart, voice cracking and thighs trembling, something in you broke open. Your back bowed sharply off the bed, a raw moan ripping from your throat as pleasure surged through every nerve. Your legs spasmed around Raiden’s hips, squeezing him so tight he choked on his own breath.
Raiden gasped—actually gasped—as you pulsed around him.
“Y/N—” he groaned, the sound thick and dizzy. Your fluttering walls kept milking him with every stutter of your hips, dragging him straight to the edge.
Kenshi was still spilling over your joined hands, his cock twitching helplessly. The sight of it—his release dripping between your fingers, your thighs trembling, your lips parted around a silent cry—pushed Raiden straight past the point of control.
He jerked back with a strangled groan, unable to stay buried inside you or he’d finish too deep.
“—fuck—!”
His release spilled hot across your stomach, painting you in thick stripes. A sharp second jet hit your thigh… and then the third splashed across Kenshi’s lower abdomen, startling the swordsman out of the daze of his own orgasm.
Kenshi froze.
Raiden froze.
You froze—still trembling, breathing like you’d sprinted a mile.
For a beat, the only sound in the room was all three of you panting.
Kenshi blinked once, looked down at the warm white streak across his hipbone…
…and huffed a breathless, wrecked laugh.
Raiden’s face went crimson.
“…ah—sorry—” he murmured, mortified, chest still heaving.
Kenshi licked his lips slowly, eyes dragging up Raiden’s body.
“Don’t be,” he rasped.
You were still trying to remember how to breathe.
Raiden gently released your hand, fingers slipping away from Kenshi’s spent length. Your grip loosened too, and Kenshi’s cock fell back against his stomach with a soft, sticky thud, giving one last pathetic twitch. He lay there on his elbows, chest rising and falling, eyes glued to you.
To the mess.
His mess.
Raiden’s mess.
All of it glistening across your stomach, your thighs, the curve of your hip.
Raiden wasn’t doing any better.
He was braced over you, chest still heaving, his softening length resting heavy and warm on your pelvis, weak little spurts still drooling from the tip. His pupils were blown wide, hunger and disbelief tangled together, gaze dragging over every streak he’d painted onto your skin.
And then—because you’re cruel, and because they deserve it—you purred.
Loudly.
“Mmm… I don’t think we’re done here,” you cooed, lashes fluttering like you hadn’t just broken both of them in half.
Two men. Two reactions. One shared panic.
They both snapped their heads toward you so fast you swore you felt a breeze. Kenshi actually blinked—slowly, like his brain had blue-screened. Raiden’s mouth fell open a little, his exhausted cock giving one sad, defeated twitch against your belly.
How were you not done?
You smiled at them sweetly, as if you hadn’t just sent them to the spirit realm and back.
And both of them… oh, they looked terrified.
Terrified in a good way.
Both men got to experience, for the very first time, what it truly means to bed a pent-up cat shifter.
And let them tell you—when they eventually regained the ability to form words—it is not a casual stroll through cherry blossoms. It’s a survival trial. A spiritual pilgrimage. A full-body exorcism where all the demons leave through your soul and your dick at the same time.
By the time you were finally satisfied, Raiden and Kenshi were sprawled out like corpses after a natural disaster, staring at the ceiling with the empty, glassy-eyed expression of men who had seen things.
Their cocks were sore.
Their balls were emptier than the Sahara.
Their spirits had ascended, descended, and filed a workplace harassment report.
Still?
Worth it.
It was worth every moment of blissful agony, because somewhere amid the tangled limbs and exhausted groaning, Raiden finally let the truth slip—he confessed his feelings for you. You accepted without hesitation, warming his chest with that smile he’d come to crave.
Then Kenshi, still catching his breath, admitted that he too harbored a quiet crush… one he never voiced out of respect for Raiden. He said it simply, without pressure, just truth between friends and the woman they both adored.
And somehow, against all odds and common sense, the three of you realized a shared conclusion:
Maybe this could work.
Maybe it didn’t have to be complicated.
Maybe a poly relationship wasn’t such a bad idea… especially if the sex stayed that good.
👽: silly rabbit, he’s giving you kids! No…? Alright…
🖇️: Rabbit Hybrid/Demi Human!Reader x Shang Tsung
✅: Proof Read
⚠️: (N)SFW/AFAB!Reader/Captive x Keeper/Little bit of a slow burn/Soft power dynamic/implied breeding kink/Reader has rabbit traits (ears, tail, shorter build etc.)/Finger fucking/Table sex/cream pie/Smut stuff RAHHH 🗣️
★ Uncomfortable. The lab was sterile, cold, and unwelcoming. Perched on a steel table, legs dangling shyly over the edge, your posture was small—hunched slightly forward, arms tucked close to your sides. You were tired, wearing the day’s issued shift: soft blue, boxy, mid-thigh.
★ You were anxious, ears twitching atop your head in sync with your nerves.
★ Shang Tsung watched you with a scalpel-like gaze—sharp, cutting, clinical. But amused. “Oh, you are a delicate thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
★ You didn’t speak. Just blinked—wide-eyed. Like prey that freezes once the predator sees them. Corners them. Captures them.
★ He reached forward, gloved fingers brushing your chin. With a single knuckle, he tilted your face upward. You didn’t resist. Your nose twitched, ears drooping slightly at the touch. Curious. Submissive. Not broken….just used to fear. A docile little creature, caught and caged.
★ “You’re quieter than I expected. Most hybrids snarl, kick, bite.” He paused, tilting his head. “But you’re more prey than predator.”
★ His tone wasn’t cruel—just cold. Clinical, with a thread of entertainment. He was enjoying this more than he’d admit. He stepped closer, arms clasped behind his back.
★ Then, without warning, one hand reached out again, brushing your shoulder. His fingers trailed along your collarbone—light as air. You stiffened.
★ “Your musculature is humanoid,” he said, like dictating notes to a student. “But your build… mm. Light. Fragile. Not built for kombat. For running, perhaps.” He circled you, and you tried not to flinch.
★ “Your ears,” he continued, lifting one gently. The fur was impossibly soft. Your breath caught; the ear twitched in his grasp. You didn’t move—but you made a sound. A soft, involuntary hum. Barely audible.
★ He smirked. “How sensitive,” he murmured, intrigued. His hands moved to your legs. You jolted at the first touch but didn’t pull away. He pressed gently to your thighs, testing the muscle. Still detached—but closer now. Too close.
★ “Still,” he said, “I wonder how much of you is rabbit… and how much is—”
★ His fingers wandered too low. It was unintentional—he had been examining your spine. But instead, he found your tail. A small, velvety nub of fur. Soft and round, like a puff of cloud.
★ You squeaked. A sudden, high-pitched, innocent sound—startled and unbidden.
★ Shang Tsung froze. He hadn’t expected that. Your body curled inward, eyes wide, cheeks pink. And strangely—he felt heat rise in his own face.
★ Not much. Just a flicker of color in his otherwise composed demeanor. He withdrew his hand slowly, as if he’d touched something not just forbidden, but…. personal. “I see,” he said, voice notably lower. “Highly sensitive.”
★ Your ears drooped in embarrassment. You blinked up at him, watching as his eyes slowly traveled over you. Something shifted—a hairline crack in his detachment. You weren’t just a specimen. You had thoughts. Feelings. You squeaked when touched.
★ You were adorable. How troubling…
•••
★ You didn’t know when it changed. Maybe it was when his voice softened. Or when he started waiting until after you ate to touch you—never before. Maybe it was when he began bringing a blanket, draping it over your legs when the sterile chill of the lab made you shiver. But something shifted.
★ The next time he visited, he brought a small tray of fruit. Not food pellets or rations—real fruit. Sliced and arranged: figs, strawberries, watermelon cubes, and slivers of peach so thin you could see light through them.
★ “Eat.” He said simply, placing the tray beside you. You blinked up at him again—cautious. He watched as your hands, still resting timidly in your lap, slowly crept forward. Your fingers brushed a piece of peach.
★ “Wait.” His voice halted you. You froze mid-reach, eyes darting up to his. He leaned in, plucking the fruit himself. Holding it between two fingers, he lifted it to your lips. Your breath hitched.
★ “…Open,” he said—half suggestion, half command. You obeyed. Lips parting as he slipped the peach just barely past them, fingers brushing your bottom lip. You chewed in silence. He watched—just as silently.
•••
★ That evening was especially quiet. The air held a stillness—soft, heavy. You sat on the exam table, as usual, legs swinging idly. Shang stood before you, his gloves removed this time. Bare hands. He reached for your ears again, brushing one with his thumb and forefinger, rubbing slow, careful circles into the base. You would have purred if you could. So you leaned into his touch instead.
★ “You enjoy this,” he murmured—not a question. You nodded faintly. “It calms me…”
★ Shang’s gaze darkened—not with anger, but interest. “Of course it does. You were designed to be touched gently, weren’t you?” He leaned in, breath warm on your cheek, nose ghosting near your temple. You didn’t pull away.
★ His fingers trailed to your jaw, tipping your face upward. Your legs stilled. His knee now brushed between yours at the table’s edge, subtly anchoring you.
★ “Tell me if you wish to stop…” he said. It was the first time he’d ever said that. You blinked up at him, cheeks warm, your silence speaking in quiet consent.
★ That was all he needed. His mouth pressed to your neck—warm, deliberate. A low hum vibrated against your skin as he kissed along the curve.
★ “Skin temperature elevated,” he murmured against your throat, smug and amused. “Respiration uneven. Twitch response—intact.” He nipped you lightly, and you gasped. “Very intact.”
★ Your hands gripped the edge of the table—not out of fear, but restraint. Your ears twitched, now wildly, and he chuckled softly. “You hate how much you’re enjoying this,”
★ You did.
★ But you also loved being the only one allowed this. The only one not turned into a creature. The only one he treated like…like something more than a project. Something closer to a—
★ “What does this make you?” he asked suddenly, as if reading your thoughts. His tongue traced the place his lips had just left. “A failed test?” Another kiss. Slower. “A pet?” Another. “A partner?” You trembled. He felt it.
★ “…A pet partner?” he whispered with a grin you could feel. There was self deprecation in his tone, despite his words being directed at you. It was so wrong—all of it. And yet, his lips grazed just beneath your ear, nipping the lobe, making your whole body jolt. You leaned forward slightly, instinctively, as if your heart were reaching out before your pride could stop it.
★ He pulled back from your throat, only a breath away. His eyes scolded. His mouth hung open slightly, looking at you like he wasn’t sure whether to worship you—or ruin you.
★ He chose both.
★ “Damn you…” he growled, then kissed you. Not a question. Not a warning. A collision. Your gasp was swallowed as he pressed fully between your knees, the table biting into his thighs even more so, arms caging you in. Not with menace—but desperation. His hands—accustomed to dissecting—now clutched your waist like a lifeline. Your fingers gripped his robes, needing something to hold as the floor beneath logic gave way.
•••
★ His tongue teases—demanding entrance. You yield without hesitation, moaning into his mouth, drawing a shudder from his frame. Without preamble, he lifts you—effortless, precise—only to shift your weight slightly. The fabric of his robes drag between your thighs as he presses forward.
★ His hand slides up your thigh now—more confident, somehow more reverent. He palms your tail again, chuckling against your lips, the sound soft, almost affectionate. As though he’s grown fond of how sensitive you are.
★ As if he delights in being the only one who knows just how soft you really are. One hand cradles your cheek, thumb grazing over flushed skin. “I tried to be clinical,” he murmurs between kisses, breathless, “truly…”
★ “I studied you, dissected you in thought,” he continues, lips trailing along your jaw, then down your throat—biting this time, soft at first. “But you’re not a puzzle. Not a sample.” The next bite is harder, coaxing a whine from your lips as your thighs squeeze around him.
★ “You’re maddening.” He grinds into you now—deliberate, slow—and you feel every aching inch through your thin shift. It makes your back arch, your ears twitching in helpless response. He growls lowly, desperate for more friction. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he murmurs, lips dragging downward. “Hm… rabbit?”
★ You don’t answer. Not with words. You don’t trust your voice. Instead, you roll your hips forward—grinding against him, fingers curling into his hair, guiding his mouth back to yours.
★ This kiss is messier, hungrier. His hand slips beneath your shift—finally—touching you bare. He groans, low and primal, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re soft everywhere…” his fingers ghost between your thighs. You gasp, again and again. “Even here. And so wet—for me?” His grin is sharp, wicked. “From a kiss?”
★ Your legs twitch closed instinctively. He holds them apart with ease. “Ah-ah…” he chides gently, “let me see all of you.” His fingers slide along your slit—teasing, never entering. And you ache. Gods, how you ache.
★ But he doesn’t rush. Though he could. Though he wants to. He restrains himself, treating you like some delicate chotchkie—collected, preserved, treasured. No reason to damage what is so perfectly his.
★ Now you’re laid across the lab table, that irritating little shift shoved up over your hips. Your legs are parted by his palms, your tail twitching against the cold surface, soaked, trembling, laid bare beneath his gaze.
★ “Look at you,” he purrs. “Quivering like prey… but not running. Is this bravery, little rabbit?” His fingers trace the inside of your thigh, featherlight.
★ “No answer,” he croons. “Typical of you.” Two fingers slide just a bit deeper, dragging through your slick arousal.
★ You buck, your ears folding back in shame and longing. His thumb presses lightly to your clit—just enough to make you sputter, not enough to satisfy. “So sensitive here…” He rubs a slow, torturous circle before suddenly—finally—sinking two fingers into you.
★ You cry out, one hand clawing the edge of the table. He groans at the feeling—like your body wants him, recognizes him.
★ “Tight little thing,” he grunts, voice thick with hunger. “But a perfect fit, nonetheless—like you were bred for this.” Your body jolts. His smile turns devilish.
★ “Oh?” he hums. “That word makes you squirm, doesn’t it?” His fingers curl inside, dragging slow and cruel against your walls. “Don’t tell me… that’s what you want. To be filled? Claimed? Used?” His pace quickens slightly. Your thighs tremble. “You want me to ruin you, is that it?” His voice drops, breath ghosting your ear. “To fuck the science out of you—until all that’s left is instinct?”
★ You whimper. That’s all you can do. Head tipped back, lips parted, eyes glazed. Helpless under his hand.
★ “No wonder I spared you,” he growls, dragging his fingers out, spreading you with his thumb while gazing down at the glistening proof of your need. “You really are a pet. One that sits where I place you…. and shakes when I touch you.”
★ You moan again, hips rocking against his hand. Desperate now. Unguarded.
★ “Does that sound about right?”
★ You nod. Slowly. Ears drooped, eyes half-lidded, dazed by the cadence of his voice. He scoffs—disgustedly aroused, then slams his fingers back inside. Faster. Deeper. Possessive. Punishing.
★ He’s rutting against the table now, clothed shaft pressing into your thigh. The evidence of his own need—hard and impossible to ignore.
★ “I could breed you. Right here.” His voice is shaking. “On this damned table. Fill you so full you forget your own name.” His thumb never stops—faster, firmer now. Perfect. Your hips rock erratically—stuttering. You’re unraveling.
★ Before you can stop it—you break. Fast. Embarrassingly fast. His gaze sharpens, ravenous, drinking in every twitch and cry as you spill around his fingers.
★ Trembling. Locking. Clinging to him. You arch, ears flopped back, tail twitching uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop—he draws it out, rubbing you through it, curling his fingers deeper, plucking those needy, broken sounds from you.
★ Only when your body slackens, twitching in the afterglow, does he withdraw. His fingers are slick, glistening. He watches you with dangerous calm—then licks them clean, slow and deliberate. “Delicious,”
★ He doesn’t move. Not yet. He just watches—as if still deciding which part of you he’ll take next.
•••
★ It didn’t take long—his decision—after that. Robes discarded, his form now settled between your parted thighs, the heat of him almost unbearable. His chest is bare. You’ve never seen him like this…. unarmored. There’s something disarming about it—his body, sculpted yet strangely soft, human in a way he rarely allowed to show. But his eyes? Starving. Like he’s waited lifetimes to do this.
★ “This is what you were designed for.” His voice is low, cruel in its certainty. A sharp thrust against your core makes you cry out—his cock pressing hotly against your entrance. “To be bred. To be mine.”
★ You nod without thought. Not even trying to form words. You can’t, not when the truth of it is so blinding. Then—you actually comprehend seeing him. Hard. Heavy. Veined. The kind of cock that promises ruin. The kind that leaves its shape inside you long after it’s gone. Your breath catches just at the sight.
★ “Scared, little rabbit?” His grin is slow, feral. “Or just eager?” He slides forward, skin to skin, dragging his cock along your soaked slit. Just teasing, gliding over your clit with maddening precision. His restraint is hellish. Every pass makes your hips buck upward, pout building with every denied inch.
★ His breath shudders as he murmurs, taking in the pathetic little expression on your face. “I’ll give you what you want….but know this isn’t curiosity.” His cock notches your entrance, “Not some experiment. Not a game. You’re mine to keep.”
★ And in one single, devastating stroke—he’s inside. Fully. Completely. Stretching you to the core. A sound spills from your lips—raw, broken, unlike anything you’ve ever made. (You didn’t know anyone could pull that from you.)
★ Shang Tsung groans—a sound deep and low, something unholy. His hands slam down beside your head—dropping to his forearms, nose to nose and caging you in.
★ He stills, and lets you feel it—all of him. The thickness. The twitch of him inside you. His cock pulses, and you can feel his heartbeat through your walls. You’re shaking, overwhelmed by the utter fullness of it all. And then—he starts to move. And gods—does he fucks you.
★ Deep, grinding thrusts, angled to find that spot inside that made your foot thump. He grunts against your neck, biting softly at the same spot he had been abusing this entire time. Your legs wrapped around him tighter in response, his hips snapping harsher, pounding into you with more force.
★ “I’ll fill you,” he grits out. The table creaking beneath you, “You’ll take every drop—every inch. And when I’m done—when you’re leaking—you’ll still beg for more.”
★ He grabs both plush ears with one hand, tugging your head back. His mouth finds your throat again, then your jaw, your lips...
★ You were close. So fucking close…the tension curled deep in your belly—wound tight, about to snap. “You like this, Being my undoing….” He says, bittersweet with his tone. Like it was all your fault he lost his common sense.
★ It’s what makes you come a second time. To be honest. Just knowing how composed this man always is—yet with you—he’s an insatiable mess. You’re sobbing while clenching around him, fitted like a glove, body limp as you take him. One, two, three more aggressive snaps of his hips and he spills inside you. Deep, hot and endless. You feel it, ropes of him, thick and warm.
★ Filling you until it drips down your thighs. His teeth are in your neck like they belonged there and nowhere else. His hands in your hair, gripping your plush ears, voice shaky, strangled as he whispers praises in a language you couldn’t pin down. He stirs your insides, pushing to the hilt, and then some.
★ He stays inside you, breathing hard, body still shaking with the effort of not breaking you.
•••
★ He doesn’t leave, doesn’t dress, isn’t retreating. He’s staying right there, half-draped over your trembling body, one hand stroking the curve of your hip like you’re glass. He presses a kiss to your temple.
★ “I’ll clean you,” he murmurs. “Then I’ll feed you.” His fingers brush over your belly, as if to mark the warmth left inside.
★ You groan in embarrassment, ears flat against your skull and tail twitching in that all too familiar way. He just chuckles.
★ The two of you laid there dazed for a few moments longer, his hand on your thigh, lazily tracing patterns, his cum still dripping from you onto the table. You barely registered his soft promises of spoiling his pet rotten.
Prompt: You help your tired husband out of his armor and uniform.
Pairing(s): Bi-Han x Wife!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, vaginal sex, shower shenanigans, this man wants you preggers
A/N: I did it again chat
Masterlist
You sat on the bedroom floor, humming under your breath as you folded the last of the laundry. The room was warm, lanterns casting soft gold across the walls, the kind of warmth Bi-Han always chased away with his chilling presence.
It had been a few days since you’d last seen him. Too long. Missions this far out always took their toll, and even if he’d never admit it, you knew exactly what kind of weight he brought back each time—the cold tension in his shoulders, the silent brooding, the exhaustion he hid behind duty.
You sighed, smoothing out one of his tunics.
Gods, you missed him.
His cool touch anchoring you at night.
His arms around your waist, pulling you in without asking.
The soft, barely-there kiss he’d place on your forehead when he thought you were asleep.
You closed your eyes for a second, smiling to yourself.
Bi-Han wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a man who loved fiercely. You felt it in every small gesture, every careful brush of his hand, every moment he let you see the softness he kept buried beneath layers of ice.
And you’d give anything to have him walk through that door right now.
You had yet to receive any word—no message from the scouts, no courier breathless with news, not even a vague report that he was at least on the road back.
Nothing.
Which meant his mission was either more troublesome than expected…
or Bi-Han was being Bi-Han and refusing to send updates.
You frowned, shoulders sinking under the weight of it. This was—without a doubt—the longest you’d been apart since your marriage. And it was beginning to show.
You found yourself pacing the halls more than usual, restless energy coiling tight beneath your skin. Lin Kuei members whispered about how quickly you were moving from one task to the next, how fiercely you’d taken charge in your husband’s absence. You had to—someone needed to keep training in order, missions logged, reports sorted, and his desk from drowning under paperwork.
But if you were being honest with yourself?
It wasn’t the responsibility making you restless.
It was him.
You missed the weight of his hands on your hips, the way he’d pull you into his lap without a word, the rare softness of his lips brushing your neck before he buried his face against your skin. You missed the cold your body ached for at night, the way he touched you like you belonged to him entirely.
Your body yearned for him—and without him home, that ache was becoming a near-constant throb beneath your skin.
You huffed, trying to shake the thought from your mind before it could spiral any deeper. Gathering the folded laundry into a neat stack, you stood and prepared to head out again—another round of Bi-Han’s tasks to keep things steady until he returned.
You had just reached for the door when the temperature in the room dropped.
Not a breeze.
Not a draft.
A signature, familiar cold.
Bi-Han’s cold.
You opened the door with a faint smile still on your lips—only for it to falter when you saw him.
Blood spattered across his armor and jaw.
His hair disheveled.
His breath shallow.
Eyes sharp but weighed down with exhaustion.
Your heart lurched, and you immediately scanned him from head to toe. Years at his side had taught you how to distinguish enemy blood from his—and thankfully, none of it was his.
You exhaled softly, relieved. Then your expression gentled.
“Welcome home, dear.”
Bi-Han stepped closer, a low grunt rumbling from his chest—tired, but unmistakably fond. You reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his cold lips before guiding him inside.
He walked toward the center of the room with the slow, heavy gait of a man who had been running on willpower alone. His fingers curled clumsily around the straps of his arm guards, tugging without much purpose.
Before he could bother struggling, you were already there.
“Let me,” you murmured.
His hands dropped instantly—trusting, unguarded in a way he allowed for no one else. You worked swiftly, unbuckling the bindings and sliding off the armor one piece at a time. Metal hit the floor with dull thuds. Your fingertips brushed chilled skin and rigid muscle as you moved to his chest plate, undoing the clasps you’d memorized long ago.
Bi-Han watched you in silence, his eyes following every movement.
You could feel it—the way he softened under your touch, the way his breathing eased the moment you took over. His shoulders loosened as you peeled off the last pieces of armor, then his tunic, revealing his bare torso beneath.
Cold.
Wound-tight.
Beautiful.
You placed the discarded pieces aside and returned to him, hands smoothing along his arms in a silent check for any hidden injuries.
Nothing. Just deep fatigue.
“Long mission?” you asked quietly.
His answer was a quiet exhale—one that spoke of night battles, frozen blood, and far too little rest.
You stepped closer, looking up at him with a softness reserved only for your husband.
“Come,” you breathed. “Let me take care of you.”
You sank to your knees without ceremony, fingers already working at the knots of his boots. Bi-Han didn’t move—just stood there like a statue carved from frost and war, letting you peel away the last remnants of battle from his body.
Boots off.
Then his belt.
Then the fastenings of his pants.
Your touch was practiced, gentle where you needed to be, firm where he preferred it. You didn’t rush. You never rushed with him—especially not when he came home strung tight like a bow.
You slid his pants down his legs, along with the last thin layer beneath. Cool air touched his skin, but he didn’t flinch. He simply watched you with half-lidded eyes, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face in ways only you would ever notice.
If anyone else saw him now, they’d swear he was as composed as ever.
But you knew better.
You saw the tension in his jaw.
The faint droop of his shoulders.
The way his breath thickened ever so slightly when you touched him.
You rose and guided him toward the bathroom. He didn’t resist—just followed, large hands hovering near your waist as if he didn’t trust his own fatigue not to let you slip.
Once inside, you quickly ran a bath —lukewarm, just how he tolerated it. Warm enough for you, cool enough for him. A quiet middle ground the two of you had found early in your marriage.
You didn’t bother hiding the way you watched him as you began to undress. Bi-Han’s eyes tracked every movement, slow and heavy with something beyond exhaustion—something hungry and grateful and aching all at once.
You stepped into the water first, welcoming the temperature against your skin. Then you held out your hand.
Bi-Han took it.
He settled into the water with a low exhale, the kind he would never allow his soldiers to hear. The water rippled as he lowered himself beside you, his powerful body finally relaxing, inch by inch, under the gentle warmth.
You reached for his hair first, fingers sliding into the slightly tangled bun he’d thrown together sometime during the mission. The elastic slipped free, and his hair fell around his shoulders in damp, dark strands. You smoothed your fingers through it gently, guiding his head under the water to wet it.
The first pass of your hands through his hair made the water tint pink.
The second turned it a faint red.
By the third, the water in the tub was tainted red.
You hummed softly as you worked the soap through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp in slow circles. Bi-Han let out a quiet breath—barely audible, barely there—but you felt it. A tiny loosening of the rigid line of his neck. Another small tell only you recognized.
You rinsed his hair with cupped hands, watching the suds swirl away. His hair clung to his shoulders and chest, looking softer than it had any right to after days of battle.
Next came his body.
You moved systematically, the way you always did with him—gentle enough not to aggravate bruises, firm enough to strip away dried blood and grit. His chest, his arms, the defined lines of his back… you washed him like he was something precious, not a weapon wielded by fate itself.
Bi-Han sat still under your touch, the tension in his muscles slowly, steadily unwinding. His jaw ticked once when you pressed into a stubborn knot at his shoulder, but he relaxed into your hand without complaint.
You shifted behind him, massaging down the thick bands of muscle along his spine. Each knot you eased out earned you subtle rewards—his breathing growing deeper, the hard lines of his posture softening. The softest twitch in his fingers. Bare little signs no one but you would ever see.
You were so focused on your work—on caring for him, on easing the strain from his body—that you didn’t catch the way Bi-Han’s eyes had opened halfway.
Heavy.
Dark.
A look you knew intimately but hadn’t seen in too long.
Your thumbs dug gently into a tight spot near his waist, and his breath hitched—so faintly you almost didn’t hear it. He dipped his head slightly, almost as if savoring the feel of your hands on him.
You kept massaging.
You didn’t see the way his gaze dropped to your neck, your shoulders, the parts of you glistening in the lantern-lit steam.
But he did.
And he was starving.
Once the last knot loosened under your palms, you let your hands travel one final, gentle sweep down his back, memorizing the familiar lines of him—solid muscle, cold skin, the subtle rise and fall of his breath. You hadn’t touched him like this in days, and your fingertips lingered longer than necessary, savoring the rediscovery.
“Up,” you murmured softly.
Bi-Han obeyed without hesitation, rising to his full height before you. You pulled the stopper, watching as the water—now tinted a deep red—spiraled down the drain. It carried away the blood, the grime, the aftermath of whatever he had endured on that mission.
You turned on the shower, letting the stream warm just enough to wash away what the bath hadn’t. As the water ran over you both, you stepped beneath it, closing your eyes for a moment as the increased heat contrasted against his cool presence behind you.
When you opened them, you turned—and froze.
He wasn’t looking at the water.
He wasn’t even looking at the steam.
He was looking at you.
Hungry.
Focused.
Starved in a way that had nothing to do with battle.
The kind of look he only ever wore for you.
Before you could speak, his hands found your hips—cool palms anchoring you, fingers splayed with firm possession. He pulled you closer, guiding you flush against his body with a careful, quiet strength that made your breath stutter.
Your cheeks warmed instantly, a soft blush spreading as you looked up at him. His eyes, darkened with some mix of exhaustion and desire, softened just the slightest bit at the sight of your smile.
You lifted a hand and placed it gently on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your palm.
“…Bi-Han,” you whispered.
His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in focus. In need. He dipped his head, brushing his cold forehead against yours, the touch surprisingly tender despite the intensity swirling between you.
You smiled again, love blooming warm in your chest.
And in that small moment, in the hush of water hitting stone and the steam curling around your bodies, he held your waist like a man finally home.
You rose onto your toes, brushing your lips against his in a soft invitation.
Bi-Han didn’t take it softly.
He captured your mouth with a firm, hungry pressure—kissing you like he’d been deprived for far too long, like the last few days had carved a hollow in him only you could fill. Water beat down on his shoulders as he pulled you impossibly closer, his grip on your hips tightening as though he could fuse you to him.
A soft, satisfied sound escaped you against his lips, muffled by the sheer intensity of his kiss. Your hands slid up his arms—over cold, hard muscle still tense from battle—then over his shoulders, settling at the base of his neck. You tangled your fingers in the wet strands of his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp.
That earned you a sound deep in his chest—low, rough, involuntary. One that vibrated through both of you.
You kissed him deeper, matching his urgency with your own softer fire, letting all the days of missing him pour out through your lips. His hands roamed up your back, cold fingers dragging slow lines along your spine that made you shiver despite the heat of the water.
He angled his head slightly, capturing your lower lip between his, savoring you—claiming you with a restrained but unmistakable hunger. His breathing had grown uneven, each exhale brushing cool across your cheek, mixing with the rising steam around you.
You pulled back only far enough to breathe, your lips hovering over his. His eyes—dark and intense—opened halfway, drinking you in as if confirming you were real.
“Missed you,” he growled softly.
His voice was hoarse, wrecked, and full of a longing that made warmth flood your chest.
You stroked the back of his neck gently, your thumbs brushing his jaw.
“I know,” you whispered. “I missed you too.”
His fingers tightened at your waist in response, his body pressing flush with yours—cool, powerful, unmistakably wanting.
And with the water cascading around you both, it was clear:
Bi-Han was far from done.
Bi-Han’s grip shifted—one smooth, decisive motion—and suddenly you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. A soft gasp escaped you as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, his cold hands securing your thighs with a reverence that contrasted sharply with the urgency in his breath.
Your back met the shower wall, warm stone against warm skin, and Bi-Han pressed forward—his body solid, cool, unmistakably aroused. The weight of him settled between your thighs, the firm, needy press of his desire unmistakable even through the steam.
A shiver rippled through you, heat blooming low in your belly as the length of him nudged against your core. Even that light contact made your breath hitch—made your fingers tighten at the back of his neck. His forehead dropped to yours, breath cold and uneven, chest rising against your own with each steadying inhale.
His hips rolled with a slow, aching restraint, guiding himself against your warmth in a way that made the world narrow to just him—his touch, his breath, the tension coiled beneath his control.
You exhaled sharply, a heated sound slipping from your lips as he shifted, angling himself with deliberate precision. Not entering—just aligning, teasing, letting you feel every inch of his intent without crossing that final threshold just yet.
Bi-Han’s voice rumbled low against your mouth.
“I have waited… too long.”
His lips brushed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—small, hungry kisses that contrasted the careful way he held you, as though you were something treasured.
Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly.
“Then stop waiting,” you whispered, breathless.
His answer was a slow, restrained thrust of his hips as he gently entered you—sensual, heated, a promise of what was coming without revealing the act itself. His body pressed flush to yours, cool strength enveloping you, leaving no space between you.
You arched into him, your soft gasp lost against his lips.
And Bi-Han—tired, starving for you, aching from days without your touch—finally let his control slip just enough to show you exactly how much he’d missed you.
Bi-Han moved with a tenderness that almost contradicted the strength in his hold. His first thrusts were careful, reverent—slow presses of his hips that let you feel how much he’d missed you, how long his body had been starved for yours. Each measured roll carried a quiet desperation he didn’t bother hiding.
His breath hitched, a low sound rumbling in his chest, and the next movement sank deeper—still gentle, but unmistakably hungry. What began as restrained, steady thrusts gradually shifted into something heavier, more deliberate. Controlled, but only barely.
His hands slid to your hips, fingers spreading firm against your skin as he drew you closer into every movement. The wall behind you trembled faintly with the force of his deepening pace.
You dragged your hands along him—through his damp hair, down the sculpted line of his neck, over the powerful muscles of his shoulders and arms. Your fingertips traced him in slow, adoring sweeps, occasionally curling into him just enough to leave faint marks that made him exhale sharply against your throat.
“Àirén…” he murmured, the word thick with devotion.
The sound of it undid you.
A broken moan slipped out before you could stop it, echoing softly off the shower walls. Each deep, consuming rise of his hips stole the breath from your lungs, every movement precise and claiming. He pressed deeper still—slow enough to savor you, strong enough that you felt him everywhere.
Your hands tightened around him, clinging, needing the anchor of his body as he loved you with every pent-up ache he’d carried home.
Bi-Han buried his face against your neck, breath cool against your heated skin, and moved with a rhythm that told you exactly how deeply he’d missed you… and how unwilling he was to ever be parted from you again.
Bi-Han’s rhythm slowed to something unbearably deliberate—still moving inside you, but with a drag so controlled it forced your eyes open. He wanted your attention, wanted your gaze, wanted every trembling breath you took to belong to him.
Your chest rose and fell sharply.
“Báixióng…?” you breathed, voice thin from pleasure.
He looked up at you through damp lashes, expression dark and intent, the faintest smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. The kind of look he only wore when something wicked had rooted itself in his thoughts.
His grip on your hips tightened.
“Would you like to have…”
He pressed in deep, slow enough that you felt every inch of him settle inside.
“…children?”
The word left his lips with a low, sinful weight. A question, yes—but laced with something far more primal, far more claiming.
His eyes searched yours, hungry and unwavering, as though he wanted to watch every flicker of your reaction… and commit it to memory.
The steam curled around you both. The water pattered softly. And his body stayed pressed fully to yours, still inside you, still holding you open for him—
waiting.
Watching.
Possessive and patient and devastatingly sincere.
Your breath caught painfully in your throat.
He leaned in just a fraction, lips grazing your jaw.
“Tell me, àirén…” his voice dropped to a whisper, chilled and intoxicating,
“…do you want my children?”
Your answer hit him harder than any blade ever had.
Your shy little nod as you hid your face in his neck.
Your whispered admission against his shoulder.
Your body tightening around him like you were made to hold him.
Bi-Han went still for half a second—just long enough for a dark, dangerous satisfaction to flicker across his face. His grip on your thighs shifted, fingers sliding beneath to hold you open, steady, his.
Then he moved.
Brutal. Deep. Claiming.
The force of his first thrust knocked your breath out of you, your back pressing harder against the slick shower wall as water trailed down both your bodies. His growl vibrated against your skin, low and raw, the sound of a man who had been starved for far too long.
“Fuck…” he rasped against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse.
Every snap of his hips slammed into you with purpose—heavy, unrestrained purpose—each one pushing you higher, tighter, closer. You clung to him instinctively, nails dragging across his shoulders as your legs trembled around his waist.
He wasn’t just making love to you.
He wasn’t simply losing himself in you.
He was taking you.
Filling you.
Chasing the future you’d just promised him with a single trembling nod.
And gods, the way he held you—pinning you between his cold body and the hot water, thrusting like he wanted to etch himself into your bones—you could barely breathe.
“Give me an heir…” he growled, voice roughening as he drove into you again, harder, deeper, until you cried out.
“…and I will give you everything.”
Your whine echoed off the tile, your body tightening helplessly around him.
Bi-Han’s eyes darkened further. Hungry. Wicked.
Determined.
He wasn’t stopping until he had exactly what he wanted.
You shattered around him with no warning, the orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision went white. Your cry echoed off the walls, raw and helpless, your nails digging into his shoulders as your whole body seized around him.
Bi-Han didn’t even slow.
He grunted at the way you clenched down on him but kept driving into you, chasing his own breaking point with single-minded, feral purpose.
“My beautiful xuěhuā…” he groaned against your throat, voice low and torn with hunger. “My perfect wife… giving me my future heir…”
You whimpered, overstimulation hitting you like a crashing wave. Every thrust pushed you higher again—all heat, all trembling sensitivity, your legs shaking violently around his waist. You grabbed at him helplessly, every nerve ending blazing.
He felt the way you tightened again.
He smirked against your skin, dark and triumphant.
His hips shifted slightly, angling deeper—dangerously deeper—his tip brushing your cervix with each sharp thrust. The sensation sent another shock through your spine, your breath breaking.
“Bi-Han—ah—please—”
“I’m going to fill you,” he growled, voice dropping to something primal. “Fill you until it takes.”
That was all it took.
Your second orgasm slammed into you just as he thrust one last time—hard, deep, possessive—and buried himself completely inside you.
You cried his name as you came, body trembling violently, clinging to him like you might fall apart without him. Bi-Han groaned into your neck as his release surged, hot and heavy, spilling in deep, thick spurts that made your walls flutter all over again.
He stayed there—pressed tight against you, chest heaving, hips locked—making absolutely certain not a single drop escaped. His hands gripped your thighs with bruising reverence, holding you open for him, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
Claimed.
Filled.
His.
It wasn’t until his breathing steadied, after the last slow pulse of release, that he finally whispered:
“Good. You’ll carry my heir well.”
And gods… the way his voice sounded—satisfied and dark and utterly yours—made your overstimulated body shudder all over again.
Your whole body felt boneless, warm, buzzing from the inside out. His release still settled heavy in you, and every little movement made your thighs press together with a shaky jolt.
Bi-Han slid out of you carefully, watching the way your legs trembled when your feet touched the shower floor. You leaned back on the tile, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.
He didn’t comment on the way you swayed. He didn’t need to.
One cool arm hooked behind your knees, the other around your back, and suddenly you were lifted—effortlessly, protectively—into his arms.
You whined halfheartedly, burying your face in the curve of his neck.
“Love… you’re exhausted,” you mumbled weakly. “You’re not supposed to be taking care of me.”
His chest rumbled with a small, rare laugh. The kind he only let you hear.
“You did,” he said softly, brushing his lips against your temple as he carried you out. “That was more than enough, xuěhuā.”
You huffed, a tiny pout on your lips, but you didn’t fight him. Not when he set you on the stool and patted you dry with slow, thorough care. Not when he eased your nightgown over your head, hands lingering reverently on your hips. Not when he wiped away any trace of his claim on your thighs with gentle, deliberate strokes.
You let him. Because this was his way of loving you back.
He tended to himself quickly, the warrior efficiency returning for just a moment—until he slipped into bed beside you and all the sharp edges melted away again.
Bi-Han slid under the covers and immediately pulled you against him, your back to his chest, his arm heavy and secure around your waist. His cool skin pressed into your warm spine, grounding you in a way nothing else could.
His hand drifted down… settling over your lower stomach.
It wasn’t possessive.
It wasn’t demanding.
It was tender.
Quiet. Hopeful.
“…I love you,” he murmured into your hair, voice low and almost shy in the dark.
You smiled softly, threading your fingers over his, holding his hand where it rested.
“I love you too, Bi-Han.”
His thumb brushed your skin once, slow and lingering.
Then he held you through the night, as if he’d never let anything pull you away from him again.
⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/afab reader/lots of kissing, like, lots/digital sex/low key dry humping/he fucks you like he missed you (because he did.)
★ It was late. Super late. You hadn’t noticed until you finally looked at your phone. Past midnight.
★ The house settles around you like an old song of some sort—familiar, a little lonely. Twenty seven days. You stopped counting after three weeks, but your body kept the tally anyway, in the way you sleep diagonal across the bed now, in how you forget to make dinner for one, instead of two. (It’s a habit.)
★ You’re brushing your teeth when you see him. Not him him, just—a shape. A shadow that wasn’t there a second ago, filling the bathroom doorway like he never left, like the past month was just you blinking too slow.
★ The toothbrush clatters into the sink.
★ Takeda doesn’t flinch. His smile is tired, soft around the edges, the kind that makes your chest hurt in that good way, the way that means home. He’s still in his gear—all matte black and reinforced plating, the stuff that makes him look like he walked out of a briefing. But his mask is gone. Just Takeda. Just that stupidly handsome face you’ve been replaying in your head for weeks like a song stuck on loop.
★ “Hey,” he says. Casual. Like he didn’t just materialize out of nowhere at 1:34 in the morning. You’re still catching your breath when he crosses the space between you—three steps, maybe less—and his arms loop around your waist from behind. Solid. Warm. Real. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the curve of your neck, then another, like he’s making up for lost time one heartbeat at a time.
★ “You—“ Your voice wobbles. You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help. “When did you get back?”
★ “Twenty minutes ago.” His breath ghosts over your skin, and you shiver. He notices. Of course he does. “Couldn’t wait.”
★ “You could’ve texted..”
★ “Could’ve” Another kiss, this one just below your ear. “Didn’t want to.”
★ Your reflection is a mess—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, the kind of expression that gives away every single thing you’re feeling. Takeda meets your gaze in the mirror, and his smile curves just a little more.
★ “Missed you,” he murmurs, and it’t not fair how he says it, all low and rough like the words got caught somewhere in his chest on the way out.
★ “I—missed you too.” Understatement of the century. You’ve been carrying his absence around like a weight, and now he’s here, and you’re not sure your knees are going to hold.
★ He hums, satisfied, and keeps kissing your neck like he’s got all the time in the world. Slow, reverent, the kind of attention that makes your brain go fuzzy at the edges.
★ “Takeda-“
★ “Mm?”
★ “You’re—“ You try to turn around, but his grip tightens just enough to keep you there, trapped between him and the sink. “You’re very...touchy right now..”
★ “Yeah.” No denial. His nose brushes your temple. “Problem?”
★ “No, just,” You laugh, breathless, and he grins against your skin like he won something. “You’re usually more… I dunno know, chill?”
★ “Haven’t seen you in four weeks.” His hands splay across your stomach, thumbs tracing lazy circles through your tank top. “Chill isn’t happening tonight.”
★ Four weeks. Twenty seven days. It sounds different when he says it, heavier, like he counted every single one too.
★ “I thought you’d be gone longer,” you admit quietly.
★ “So did I.” His arms tighten. “Told them I was done early. Didn’t care. Just—needed to come home.”
★ Home. The word sits in the space between you, warm and certain.
★ “Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he continues, and there’s something in his voice now, something raw. “The whole time. Every second I wasn’t actively trying not to die, I was thinking about you.”
★ Your heart does that stupid fluttery thing, the one you’re pretty sure is medically inadvisable.
★ “That’s—“ You start, but you don’t get to finish, because suddenly the world tilts.
★ One second you’re upright. The next, youre hoisted over Takeda’s shoulder like a sack of rice, your startled yelp echoing off the bathroom tiles.
★ “Takeda!”
★ He just laughs—deep, genuine, the kind you don’t hear often enough—and starts walking. You brace your hands against his back, half laughing, half squealing as he carries you out of the bathroom like this is perfectly normal behavior.
★ “Put me down!”
★ “Nope.”
★ “I’m serious,”
★ “So am I.” He pats the back of your thigh, almost apologetic. Almost. “Told you. Missed you too much.”
★ You kick your feet a little, more for show than anything, and he just adjusts his grip like you weigh nothing. The hallway blurs past, and then you’re in the bedroom, and then you’re flying—
★ You land on the mattress with a bounce and a breathless laugh, hair everywhere, heart racing. Takeda stands at the foot of the bed, grinning down at you like he just won the lottery, and starts stripping off his gear.
★ The plating comes off first. Piece by piece, discarded without ceremony, until he’s just in a compression shirt and shorts—the kind that cling in all the right ways and make it very hard to think straight.
★ “You gonna stare, or are you gonna make room?” he teases. You scoot over, face burning, and he flops down beside you with zero grace and one hundred percent satisfaction. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you close until there’s no space left between you, until you’re tangled up in him and the sheets and the quiet of the room.
★ “Hi,” he says, softer now.
★ “Hi.” You can’t stop smiling. It’s starting to hurt.
★ He cups your face with one hand, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and leans in. The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he’s savoring it—savoring you. When he pulls back, just enough to breathe, his eyes are half lidded and fond.
★ “Never doing that again,” he murmurs.
★ “What?”
★ “Being gone that long,” His forehead rests against yours. “Don’t care what mission they throw at me. Never again.”
★ Your chest squeezes. “Takeda,”
★ “I mean it.” Another kiss, this one to your nose. “Can’t do it. You’re here, and I’m here, and that’s how it should be.”
★ You don’t argue. Can’t, really, when he’s looking at you like that—like you’re the only thing that makes sense in a world that’s usually khaos and blood and missions that don’t have happy endings.
★ “Okay?”
★ “Okay.” You curl into him, tucking your head under his chin. “Just… stay tonight.”
★ His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrates against your cheek.
★ “Baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m not going anywhere. For this week at least.” That made your heart soar, finally some genuine bonding with your boyfriend…
★ He tilts your chin up with gentle fingers, his gaze locking onto yours with that familiar mix of hunger and warmth. And kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue slipping past your lips to trace along yours in a slow, teasing dance. He pulls you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist to press your body flush against his, the heat of him seeping through your clothes.
★ You melt into it, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. The kiss deepens even more, turning messy and urgent as his free hand cups the back of your neck, holding you steady while his tongue explores every inch of your mouth. A low groan rumbles from his throat, vibrating against your lips, and he shifts slightly, his body settling heavier over yours in the bed.
★ Breaking the kiss just enough to trail his mouth down your jaw, Takeda nips at your skin before latching onto the curve of your neck. His teeth graze lightly at first, then suck harder, marking you with a blooming hickey that sends sparks straight to your core. another one follows lower, on the spot where your pulse races, his tongue soothing the sting before he bites again. “God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough with need. “Missed you. Every damn night on that mission, this is what I pictured.“
★ His hand, calloused from training and fights, slides down your side with deliberate slowness, tracing the dip of your hip before venturing between your thighs. You part your legs instinctively, a soft gasp escaping as his palm presses against the thin fabric of your clinging shorts. He rubs in firm circles, the friction building heat through the material, his fingers outlining the shape of your pussy—teasing the swollen folds without mercy. The pressure makes you squirm, wetness soaking through, and he chuckles darkly, feeling it.
★ “You’ve missed me just as much.” he teases, his lips returning to yours for another deep kiss, tongues tangling as his hand slips under the waistband of your shorts. His fingers find your slick entrance immediately, one dipping in to coat itself before he circles your clit with precise strokes. He pushes two fingers inside you then, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your hips buck. All the while, he keeps kissing you, swallowing your moans, his thumb working your clit in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. he groans into your mouth, his pace quickening. “Dreamt about fucking you, every night.” He curled his fingers “Waking up hard every morning because of you…”
★ The words push you closer, your walls fluttering around his fingers as he pumps them faster, deeper, driving you toward release. Your nails dig into his back—his body pinning you gently, his free hand stroking your hair even as he fingers you relentlessly. The orgasm crashes over you hard, your pussy spasming as you cry out against his lips, and he kisses you through it, messy and loving, until you’re trembling beneath him.
★ Takeda eases his fingers out slowly, your waistband snapping against your skin as he brought them to his mouth to suck them clean with a satisfied hum. He hovers above you now, his weight shifting fully on top as he settles between your thighs. The hard line of his cock strains against his shorts, and he grinds it forward, dragging the clothed length along your soaked core. The spandex clings to you both, amplifying every slide—the ridge of him pressing right against your clit, making you whimper. He rocks his hips steadily, eyes dark and locked on yours, the friction building tension that’s almost painful in its sweetness.
★ “Need you,” he rasps, grinding harder for a few more torturous moments before his hands hook into your shorts. He tugs them down your thighs in one smooth motion, kicking them aside, then shucks his own off just as quickly. His cock springs free, thick and throbbing, the tip already leaking. He lines himself up, rubbing the head along your folds to coat himself in your juices, before pushing in with a slow, deep thrust. You both moan at the stretch, your pussy gripping him like it never wants to let go. Pulling out to the tip, his hips snap forward again, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion, the heat of your walls enveloping him completely.
★ You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure ripple through you, every inch of him filling you so perfectly it borders on overwhelming. Takeda’s breath hitches against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in frantic kisses, each one laced with the desperation of days apart.
★ He grunts while pulling back only to thrust in deeper, harder. The slick slide of his cock dragging along your inner walls sends sparks igniting in your core, your body arching up to meet him. You feel every vein pulsing against you, the friction building a fire that makes your toes curl.
★ Your legs wrap around his waist, heels pressing into his back to urge him on. He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, angling his hips so he hits that spot inside you. Each plunge harsh—skin slapping against skin with a wet rhythm.
★ Sweat beads on his forehead, trickling down to mix with the dampness between your bodies. You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him down for another messy kiss—tongues tangling, teeth clanking and nipping, tasting the salt on his lips.
★ “I love you so much,” you whisper against his mouth, your voice breaking on a whimper as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the pressure sending jolts of electricity straight to your nerves. He responds by speeding up, thrusts turning erratic, his cock swelling thicker inside you, stretching you further.
★ Takeda’s grip tightens, fingers bruising your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. You feel the coil tightening, your breaths coming in short, sharp pants, every muscle tensing. his thumb finds your clit, and he circles it with firm strokes, the added friction shattering your control.
★ The orgasm rips through you, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock, squeezing him in vise like spasms. You cry out his name, body shuddering beneath him.
★ He fucks you through it—like every second apart was agony he needs to erase. His hips snap forward in a rhythm that’s dominant but tender, each thrust burying him to the hilt. One hand braces beside your head, the other interlacing with yours as he leans down to capture your lips again, kissing you softly between the building pace. “Mmff” he pants, voice breaking. “Fuck—“
★ He angles his hips to hit deeper, faster, chasing his release, you cum hard a second time—unexpected, crying out and shaking around him as he he trusts into you sloppily before abruptly pulling out, fisting his cock to stroke himself twice as hot ropes of cum spill across your stomach. He smears it with his thumb, a proud glint in his eyes as he watches it mark your skin.
★ He collapses onto you, careful not to crush but heavy enough to feel like a comforting weight—a living blanket enveloping you. His face buries in the crook of your neck, lips pressing lazy kisses to the fresh hickeys and your pulse. “Love you,” he whispers, nuzzling closer, his arms wrapping around you tight.
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you stare at yourself in the mirror, picking at the bows on the set of lingerie that you had bought for Takeda
they always looked better in the store than at home, and you sigh and turn side to side to look again at the bows and frown
it felt silly, you felt silly, perhaps this was a bad idea, you had just wanted to surprise Takeda after he came home from a long mission, but you don’t think he’ll like it
stripping off the lingerie set, you throw the panties into the laundry basket and head to the showers, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm-up before stepping into the hot spray of water
in the roar of the water hitting your back, you don’t hear Takeda opening the front door and calling out your name, excited to be back home after so long
when he doesn’t hear your response and squeal and doesn’t see you bounding down the hallways and barreling into his arms, he closes the door behind him and listens for you
he can hear the shower running and chuckles to himself, you’re just in the shower, safe and sound, nothing wrong here
Takeda makes his way to the bedroom, intending on perhaps just sliding into the showers with you, give you a small surprise, and he enters the bedroom, a small smile curving on his face as he observes all the small little things you’ve added to the room in his absence
his eyes rove around the room, and he takes in a deep breath, missing the scent of the candles you always lit in the bedroom
as he makes his way to the showers, his eyes catch on something hanging out of the basket, something that you most definitely didn’t own when he left
embarrassingly enough, Takeda knows every set of underwear you have, the color, the shape, which brand, the softness, whenever you were away from home at business meetings, he always rummaged through your underwear drawer and jacked off to them
of course he washes and dries them before you come back, cleaning them of his misdeeds, but he knows that when you put on your panties, that his cum had been there
he walks over to the laundry basket and picks up the set, mouth watering at the sight
it’s decorated in pretty little bows of his favorite color, a size too small so that your pudge would be squeezed out, and it’s nice and lacy and soft
his cock twitches in interest at the sight, and Takeda feels his face burn as he brings them up to his nose and takes in a deep breath
it still smells of your body wash, and he groans at the image of you wearing them, all pretty and dressed-up for him
the sound of the shower turns off, and Takeda turns his gaze to the door, holding the panties in his hand and sitting on the bed to wait for you to come out
you come out of the showers soon enough, hair damp and skin covered in a sheen layer of a scented lotion and only covered in a short towel, and you nearly shut the bathroom door when you see Takeda sitting on the bed
walking up to him, you scowl, saying that he scared you, and he lets out a breathy laugh, saying that he missed you too
your eyes dart to his hands, face heating up in embarrassment as you see the panties you had bought for him crumpled in his fist, and you go to snatch them from him
he smiles and keeps a firm hand on your chest, saying that he wants to see you in them first, and you frown at him and say no, they don’t look that good on you and that you’re going to return them
Takeda raises a brow and says to just put on a show for him then, he’ll be the judge of whether you look bad or not
you sigh and roll your eyes but begrudgingly agree, snatching the panties out of a grinning Takeda’s hands, and you throw the towel in his face as you slip them on
he laughs and lets the towel hit him in the face and fall to his lap as he watches you slowly slip the panties over your plush thighs
by gods, it is a wonderful sight to behold, how the lace lightly squeezes at your hips and causes the fat to spill out and the little bows accentuating just how delicious you look
his voice is breathless as he asks you to do a little spin for him, and you do so slowly, and Takeda has to clench his fist to stop himself from cumming in his pants at how the panties grip onto your ass
your hands come down to pull them off, and he has to stop himself from whipping out his weapon to stop your wrist
he takes in a deep breath and asks you to come over here first, and you sigh and do so, placing your hands on his shoulders, and his hands settle on your hips, tracing the lace of your panties with his thumbs
Takeda stares at how it hugs your curves and your skin, and he can’t help himself as he bites his lips and tells you to get on the bed
you raise in eyebrow in confusion, and he repeats himself breathlessly, eyes fixated on the lace and the small little bows
there’s a second where you don’t move, and then you let out a knowing laugh and say alright, letting go of his shoulders and crawling onto the bed before flopping onto your back
he doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast to get rid of his armor and his clothing, leaving himself in only his underwear as he shuffles himself downwards so that your thighs sit atop his shoulders
Takeda stares wide-eyed at the panties, a small little wet patch indicating your need for him, and he licks his lips before pressing his tongue and licking a long strip up the base of the panties
you let out a small gasp, propping yourself up on your elbows to see what he’s doing, and you bite your lip at the sight of him lapping at you with his tongue through your panties
he’s breathless with the way he’s so absorbed into you, barely taking the time to breathe as he licks and laps at the panties, nose digging into your clit and tongue pressing the panties into your pussy folds
Takeda whines, needing to be deeper, and he brings his hands up to use his thumbs to part your folds and use his tongue to lave at you, pushing the panties deeper into you and collecting your want
it’s addicting, your small gasps and moans, the way he can taste you through your panties, the panties, oh dear gods, the panties
he can feel himself getting close even just eating you out through your panties, and he needs to buy you more, to buy you more underwear like this
his nose grinds persistently into your clit, as he eats you out, moans reverberating through you and making you whimper and for pleasure to build and buzz through you
you hadn’t thought that you wearing such a silly little lingerie set would get him so worked up, but you would have to buy more if he acted like this every time
Takeda groans loudly, he needs you, needs you directly from the source, and he pulls your panties to the side and fucks you on his tongue, covering his chin with your slick
the sudden feeling of him directly pressing into you makes you gasp, his nose grinding so deliciously into your clit, and you nearly cum when he pulls the hood of your clit up with his thumb and pressing his thumb directly into the sensitive bud
it makes you whine and arch your back off the bed, letting your elbows fall from under you to grab onto his hair instead, and he whimpers at the feeling, grinding his clothed cock into the bedsheets
you cum on his tongue, gasping for air as he hums and wraps his arms around your plush thighs, pulling you in closer to his face
he can’t get enough, the sight of your panties wet with your want and clinging to your figure, the sound of your moans ringing in his ears, the dig of your fingers into his scalp
it’s all too much, and he groans as his hips stutter and his cock spurts cum into his underwear, staining and pooling in the material
Takeda pants into your pussy, fucking you on his tongue through your orgasm and grinding his hips down through his own
you blink at the ceiling, trying to calm down, and you raise your head as his tongue keeps lapping into you, letting out a stifled whine as the pleasure sings through you
he glances up at you, away from the pretty bows decorating your panties, and he smiles at you, saying that he just needed a second to recover
all the better for him to prep you and taste you on his tongue, and he’s going to fuck you with your panties on and then cum on them
his lewd words make you gape at him, but you quickly forget it as he thrusts two thick fingers into you
oh, he loved your panties, and he would thoroughly ruin this pair and buy you so many more
Prompt: Decorating the tree turns into a whole different kind of tradition when you’re doing it with your razor-hatted, shamelessly flirty menace of a sweetheart.
Pairing(s): Kung Lao x reader
Warnings: NSFW, smut, grinding, fingering, squirting, fully clothed chaos, tree decorating goes feral, Kung Lao cannot behave, shower sex implied
A/N: I fucking love this dumbass menace
Kinkmas Masterlist
It was Christmas time, the season of joy and goodwill and, apparently, your boyfriend acting like a menace with a pulse. You were trying to decorate your tree.
Keyword: Trying.
Kung Lao, your self-proclaimed “help,” was not helping, at all.
You’d invited him over to assist you with the lights and ornaments. Instead, he’d planted himself behind you, arms crossed, gaze glued to you like you were some rare sculpture on display. Cute under different circumstances. Infuriating under the current ones.
You bent down to grab another ornament, murmuring to yourself, only to freeze when you sensed him move. A tall warmth pressed up against your back, two large hands securing themselves around your waist, tugging your hips flush to his.
You shut your eyes. Counted to three. Sighed.
Of course.
“Lao, baby. Not right now,” you said, sifting through the ornament box with exaggerated purpose.
He hummed behind you, pretending to be innocent, like it was physically impossible for him to behave.
“Don’t act surprised,” he murmured, hands sliding lower to rub the top of your ass in slow, claiming strokes. “You bend over like that, I’m legally obligated to touch.”
“You’re not legally obligated to—”
“Morally obligated,” he corrected smoothly, voice dropping, his hips pressing harder into you. “Holiday spirit and what not.”
You could feel exactly how much “spirit” he had, firm against the curve of your backside. You shook your head, grabbed an ornament, and straightened, only for him to press up against your back.
“Lao,” you warned, “I want to get this tree up.”
He pointedly ignored you, sliding a hand up your stomach and underneath your shirt until he cupped your breast. His fingers kneaded gently before rolling your nipple between them, teasing and slow.
Your breath hitched, a tiny jolt sparking through your body.
“Lao…” you said again, weaker this time.
“You sure you wanna keep decorating?” he whispered against your ear, tone low and teasing.
His other hand slid down your hip, fingertips brushing the edge of your waistband. Suddenly, the tree felt like a very distant concern.
You shivered in his hold, every slow drag of his fingers lighting your body like the string lights drooping from the half-decorated tree. Your breath hitched, your hips instinctively pressing back into him as his hands wandered without shame.
His other hand slid up your waist, cupping your remaining breast. He kneaded gently, rolling your nipple between his fingers with practiced mischief. The sensation rippled through you, pulling a soft sigh from your chest.
You bit your lip, letting your body melt back into him as if you were made to fit against him. Lao chuckled low in his throat, the vibration rumbling against your spine.
“Thought so,” he murmured, dipping his head to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck.
You whimpered, tilting your head to give him more room.
“Lao…”
“Mmmm?” he hummed, pretending not to notice the way your knees wobbled. His hands shifted, thumbs brushing your sensitive peaks before giving them a light, teasing tug. Your back arched at the jolt, fingers reaching up to clutch at his forearm for grounding, voice spilling out in a sweet mewl.
“You sound so pretty,” he whined softly, voice nearly needy. One hand abandoned your chest long enough to slide down your stomach, stopping at your waistband. He pushed past the fabric easily, slipping inside and dragging his fingers through your slick heat.
Your breath caught, a sharp gasp tumbling out of you.
“So wet, too, love,” he whispered like he was confessing a secret, dipping his finger inside you briefly before circling your clit in slow, devastating strokes.
Your whole body jerked, a moan spilling out before you could swallow it as he continued to tease you with lazy, indulgent strokes that left your thighs trembling.
You ground back against him, slow and deliberate, dragging yourself along his stiff length just to hear him react. The groan he let slip was raw enough to curl heat through your stomach.
“You’re… you’re teasing me,” you panted, voice thin with how hard you were trying to keep your balance.
Kung Lao only smiled into your neck, breath warm against your skin.
“I’m not,” he murmured, tone soft but smug as hell. “I’m just appreciating your body.”
His fingers pressed harder against your clit, dragging a startled cry out of you as your thighs clamped around his hand. Your knees nearly buckled, and he tightened his grip on your waist, steadying you effortlessly.
“Lao…” you moaned, the sound half-plea, half-accusation.
He snickered quietly at your desperation, then sank his fingers inside you without warning. You gasped, your whole body jolting as he immediately set a quick pace, each movement angled with purpose.
Your hands scrambled for purchase, finally bracing against his forearm as your hips tilted helplessly into his rhythm. He encouraged the motion, guiding your body back against him as support.
“That’s it,” he muttered against your ear, biting his lip when you moaned his name again and again, your voice trembling each time it fell from your mouth like a prayer you couldn’t stop repeating.
Your breath stuttered, thighs trembling as he pumped his fingers faster, each thrust sending another sharp wave skittering up your spine.
He held you through all of it, pressed against you, hard and aching, clearly enjoying every second of what he was doing to you.
“Gods, you sound like pure sin,” Lao breathed against your ear, voice low and shaken. His fingers kept working inside you, “You’re dripping all over my hand, baby… so tight around my fingers…”
You barely had time to gasp before he eased a third finger in. Your whole body jerked, a strangled sound ripping out of you as your knees simply gave up. He caught every ounce of your weight, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other kept moving inside you without losing rhythm.
Your thighs were clamped around his forearm, trembling violently.
You tipped your hips forward instinctively, grinding your clit against his palm in messy, desperate circles. The wet sounds between your bodies grew louder, proof of just how far gone you were, and Lao’s breath stuttered in your ear.
“That’s it… just like that,” he groaned, voice thick. “Use me. Gods, look at you… using my hand so nicely…”
His arm flexed around your waist, pulling you in tighter as his fingers thrust deeper, harder, each movement angled to drag more broken sounds out of you. Your breath hitched, body shuddering uncontrollably, as he praised every reaction like he couldn’t help himself.
“So good for me,” he whispered, “So perfect like this…”
Lao cruelly curled his fingers, hitting your spot with unnerving precision. The sound that tore out of you came out as a broken, choked moan as your entire body tried and failed to escape the pleasure.
Your throat tightened, panic and anticipation tangling together.
“L-Lao, wait—” you gasped, voice shaking. “T-Too much—!”
He growled, the sound low and hungry against your ear as your walls clamped down around his fingers like a vice.
“Your body is telling me otherwise,” he rasped, breath stuttering as he drove his fingers even deeper, curling them again just to feel you jolt.
Your juices coated his hand in a fresh rush, and he felt it, the trembling shift in your body that meant you were seconds away from squirting all over his hand. His jaw tightened, a harsh curse slipping out as he pushed you harder toward it, chasing the moment he knew was coming.
Your breath turned into high, soft squeals, every sound tighter than the last. Your thighs trembled violently around his arm, your hips trying to get away and grind down at the same time. The pressure inside you was building unbearably tight.
“Lao—Lao—! M-My… pants—ngh—!” you tried to warn, voice thin and frantic.
He barely held back another groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rutted his throbbing length against your ass again, completely gone with need.
“Forget them,” he panted, voice cracking with how close he was despite never being touched. “Focus on cumming for me… ruin them. I want you to.”
His fingers thrust harder, faster, deliberate and ruthless, every movement angled to push you past the edge. His hips bucked helplessly behind you, his breath hot and shaky against your neck, the restraint in his body stretched to its absolute limit.
He was seconds from coming untouched from the entire scene and desperate to feel you break first.
A few more thrusts—sharp, perfectly aimed—and a deliberate rub against your clit tipped you straight over the edge.
Your release hit hard.
Your whole body jolted, a choked cry tearing from your throat as your climax tore through you in a sudden, uncontrollable rush. Heat gushed out around his fingers, soaking his hand, spilling down your thighs as your body jerked helplessly in his grip. Lao let out a raw, needy moan at the sight, at the feel of you losing control because of him.
His fingers kept moving, driving you through every pulse and spasm, milking the aftershocks even as your body squirmed in his hold. Only when you started shaking in a way that told him it was too much did he finally slow, easing the pace until your breaths stopped catching on sobs.
Then he slipped his fingers out of you, dragging the motion just to feel how sensitive you were. Before you could even catch your breath, he gave your clit one last teasing stroke, watching your whole body jolt in response.
And then those same soaked fingers were at his mouth.
He sucked them in greedily, eyes half-lidded, moaning at the taste of you as though it grounded him and pushed him closer to the edge at the same time. His hips bucked against you without him meaning to, his length twitching hard against your ass, painfully close to breaking untouched.
His head fell back, throat bobbing as he swallowed around another moan, desperately trying to reel himself in while he cleaned every last bit of your release from his fingers.
The sound he made—half-starved, half-wrecked—sent heat rushing straight through you all over again.
Still trembling from your orgasm, you shifted in his arms, pressing your hips back into him in a slow, needy grind, feeling his breath hitch sharply against your neck.
“Cum for me,” you whispered, voice still shaking from your own high.
You dragged yourself against him again, slow and shaky. One more grind and you felt his entire body seize behind you, his length twitching violently in his pants. His breath stuttered, hips jerking, and then he was spilling into the fabric with a ragged sound he barely managed to swallow.
You both panted there, leaning on each other like you’d nearly blacked out.
And then you started laughing—breathless, disbelieving.
“Did we seriously just cum in our clothes like—like fucking teenagers?”
Lao let out a breathless chuckle, still trying to catch his own air.
“No,” he corrected smugly. “I came in mine. You, on the other hand… you completely destroyed yours because of me.”
You glanced down and groaned.
Your pants were absolutely wrecked—a wide, unmistakable patch of soaked fabric spreading down your inner thighs. It genuinely looked like you had an accident. You muttered something murderous under your breath and pushed yourself up onto shaky legs.
Lao steadied you immediately, hands warm and possessive on your hips.
You grabbed his wrist with a firm yank.
“Come on. We’re taking a shower.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“And you’re fucking me in there,” you added, already dragging him toward the hallway, your steps wobbly but determined.
Lao’s grin spread slow and wolfish as he followed without resistance.
“Tree can wait,” you muttered.
“Yes ma’am,” he quipped, sounding way too pleased, practically jogging to keep up with your furious march to the bathroom.
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