Tumgik
#👉 Finger of Contempt
lycheedr3ams · 9 months
Note
Uhm.
(I feel like an addict crawling to you to get her fix)
I was just wondering 👉👈 if you could, uh, sometime when you want, IF you want, tell us how would emotionally unavailable König react to our poor sniper babe asking if they could do it without a condom? Or if she asks if they could kiss...? (I'm melting)
Perhaps she's at a breaking point or something, just wants to feel him even if just this once? What would happen...?
I love those drabbles you did so, so much. They have a special place in my heart and I cherish them so, whoo I can't even explain. Much love to you 🩷🩷🩷 and please feel free to just ignore this ask if it's not your cup of tea!
i love this ask! it challenges me and i love it. i also love this plotline i've made and i want to expand on it
this is going to be a mini-series, so i'm gonna make a proper title and masterlist soon
TW: NSFW, smut, mentions of self-hate, just sad overall, angst, maybe some comfort at the end?
part 3 of Relapse
Tumblr media
you'd lost count of how many times you and könig gave yourselves to each other. it didn't matter that he always guarded the sweetest parts of himself from you, hiding his lips behind that hood and his cock within the condom. he gave you as much of himself as he was able, and you thought you'd never find the courage to ask for more. how could you ask more from the man who already gave you so much?
despite könig's best attempts at a detached façade when everything he was laid bare before you, you knew that he willingly gave you the parts of himself that he had never given to anyone else before, parts of himself that he didn't know he even had. he was a balm that protected you from yourself. but just like every topical substance, it wore away. and könig's balm was exactly that: topical. it never reached very deep - it wasn't in its nature to. and neither was its nature to last very long, or ever be enough. it was meant to heal only a little at a time, sadistically leaving some wounds unhealed so that you had no choice but to need more.
you tried your best to not look disappointed every time könig clumsily opened the shiny condom wrapper and slid it down his aching length. but you never missed the way his large, calloused fingers shook each time he tore the package open, or the way he'd fling the wrapper somewhere in the room with a frustrated grunt. you were grateful for könig and what he gave you, but the plastic shape of his cock was not enough: you needed more, and you hated yourself for it. you wanted what könig already gave you to be enough.
some nights, on the nights when you just needed his comfort more than anything, you couldn't help the quiet sigh that escaped your lungs as you watched him reach for the condom box. you'd watch könig slide the thin plastic down his smooth cock with contempt masked as sadness, not able to look him in the eye as he created a barrier between you and the part of himself that you needed the most. but still, you welcomed him into you each and every time. how could you ever refuse him, anyway? how could you refuse the only man who looked at you as more than a pretty face, a man who saw more of you than you had ever showed to anyone, even yourself?
there were some nights when könig almost seemed... reluctant to put on the condom. some nights when he just stared at the crinkling wrapper under his fingers, listening to the sound of it without actually tearing it. you always watched in wonder as he listened to the sound of the barrier that separated you two, but you could never tell if he was just lost in his own thoughts for a moment or contemplating not using the thing at all. you didn't think it could be the latter, since he always wore the damn condom every time.
but one night happened when you just couldn't take it anymore; you were just too needy to feel guilty about it. you were tired of the surface-level balm he gave to you abundantly. you wanted the medicine that would penetrate your skin and seep into your bloodstream, the medicine that would reach deeply and be felt within every nerve of your body. as he reached over your head for the box like he always did, you somehow managed to get the words out.
"please. no condom. not tonight." you wished your words had come out more eloquently, more convincingly, but your tongue felt dry in your throat and your voice like it had been sealed away. könig's arm froze in midair above you as you spoke, until he lowered it by his side and stared at you for much longer than you were comfortable with. you were already naked with your legs spread, and his gaze was intense enough as it was. you looked away shamefully as he seemed to dissociate, your skin tingling everywhere his eyes wandered. but his eyes weren't wandering with a purpose; he seemed to be searching your body, trying to find something. but his head stayed still, and you wondered if he could even see you at all. perhaps he was searching instead within himself. maybe könig didn't have the medicine you needed after all.
"just this once," he finally muttered. your eyes opened wide and your lips parted. had you heard him right?
"did...did i just hear you right?" you asked softly. konig then wordlessly slid the underside of his cock on your soaked entrance, coating himself with you. your face burned hot when you finally, finally felt the skin of his manhood against you. you were already shaking and panting, and he wasn't even inside of you yet. he watched you with wonder and lust as he felt the sensation of your wet, slick folds. then, without any warning, könig eased himself into you in one easy, gentle thrust.
every time könig entered you for the first time each night you had sex, it always felt like heaven had been brought down just for you. but this time, when there was no plastic barrier between the most intimate parts of yourselves, it was so much deeper than unbridled ecstasy; it felt like coming back home after being away for so long that you forgot what it felt like to feel safe. you and könig each had your eyes screwed shut and were trembling, your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly. you finally felt his warmth, his smooth hard skin, the ghost of a pulse that fluttered against your walls. and könig finally allowed himself to indulge in the wet, protective warmth of your womb. was it some Freudian concept that made him feel so welcome within your womanhood, his unconscious mind being reminded of where he had come from? or was it that you were just so warm and wet and perfectly wrapped around his cock like you were made for him?
könig shuddered and finally opened his eyes to look down at you. you were panting with your brows furrowed and eyes shut. suddenly, könig set a pace, but it wasn't punishing and animalistic like it usually was. tonight, he slowly - almost too slowly - dragged each and every inch of his cock through your walls, watching as they dragged along his cock as he pulled out and constricted once he went in. you moaned deeply, as if you were breathing for the first time. you had never been so wet for him before, you were literally dripping down his balls and onto the sheets. he gently applied pressure to your lower stomach as he leaned back and watched as he fluidly rolled his hips and sunk his cock in and out, in and out of your heat. his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and you were now silent (except for the occasional gasp) as you traveled somewhere far away that only könig could take you.
könig's pace eventually increased, wanting to near his own end, but he lasted longer than he ever had before. sometimes, he nearly completely stopped and just watched, transfixed, as you begged for him to move. he seemed to be curious about the way you begged, almost like the way an astronomer looks wistfully up at the night sky to understand the stars. but his gaze wasn't cold and analytical like he was collecting data, it was more the gaze of one who sought to completely and wholly understand something far beyond their grasp, far beyond the reaches of their mind and body.
as könig slowly worked up the pace, his large thumb rubbed circles onto your swollen clit painfully slowly. but he was only working you up, edging you until you were both ready to come at the same time. and when you both did, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. lost in the heat of this mutual explosive orgasm, neither of you realized that könig had come inside you while he was fully sheathed.
you both panted and slowly came back to reality, and you looked at könig, a little confused, as he stared down at where you two were connected. you sat up on your elbows and saw a thin white ring around his cock, and your eyes widened. you couldn't find any words to say, and you looked up at him, a little panicked. you were fine with it, but you knew - at least, you thought you knew - that he wasn't. but könig didn't say a word as he pulled out of your wet heat with a hiss, and gently cleaned you up like he always did.
neither of you mentioned what happened as you both clumsily got dressed, and you pretended not to notice some of the semen he missed dripping down your leg that was absorbed by your pants. you almost wondered if that had even happened with the way that not a single word was said afterwards, but the white stain on your pants was proof that you weren't dreaming.
you smiled softly at könig like you always did after he gave himself to you, and quietly shut his door as you left, filled with his medicine that finally treated some of your wounds that he always left open.
705 notes · View notes
Note
Can I,,, can I request “There we go, that’s it…” for Devil May Cry 👉👈 Feel free to totally disregard this if you arent taking prompts anymore dklfngld
Anon I am SO SORRY it took me so long to write this!! I've had no free time lately, and I'm also sorry it's short! I hope it's what you were looking for, though!
*
“Oh, come on, kid, come on,” Dante muttered, shaking Nero a little.
Vergil knelt beside him, glaring. “I don’t think shaking him is helping.”
“You’re right. Shit. I’m probably just turning his stomach into a milkshake of bile and poison.” Dante lowered Nero back against the wall. Nero’s head dropped forward lifelessly.
“It’s not in his stomach,” Vergil said impatiently. “They stabbed it into his neck.”
“Yea, well, he threw up!” Dante said.
“His body is rejecting the poison,” Vergil said, reaching out and touching Nero’s head. His skin was burning with a steadily growing fever. “It was meant to kill hybrids like us, but Nero is more human than demon.”
Vergil stood up and went over to his sword, yanking it free. The corpse impaled on it thumped to the ground, sending up a little spray of blood. Vergil curled his lip in contempt at the human who had snuck up on Nero and injected him with the poison.
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t killed that guy, we could’ve figured out what exactly he injected into Nero. Even if it was made for us, it could still kill or permanently harm Nero,” Dante said.
Vergil considered running his brother through with the sword too, if only to get him to stop speaking aloud the things Vergil didn’t want to admit to. He decided against it, but only because Dante was better with Nero than he was, and there was a chance they’d have to reassure him if he regained consciousness.
“Here, sit with him. I’m going to go call Nico,” Dante said, getting up. “Trish or Lady will probably know what to do for him. I’ve got no clue.”
“Helpful as ever,” Vergil said dryly.
“Right, because you’re doing so much better,” Dante said, taking off at a jog. “Keep an eye on the kid!”
Vergil knelt beside Nero again, pressing his fingers to his neck. Nero’s pulse was faster than normal. Vergil decided a fast pulse was better than no pulse, and dropped his fingers away.
He hated sitting and feeling useless. He could kill the human who injected the poison. He couldn’t kill the poison itself.
Still, Nero was slightly better than he had been when he’d first been injected. He’d thrown up and then started convulsing, but had since settled into unconsciousness, his body shaking but not seizing.
Sweat coated his forehead, his hair sticking to it. Vergil reached out and pushed it back, away from his eyes.
Nero’s eyes fluttered openly, gaze darting around without much awareness. Vergil grabbed his shoulder.
“Nero?” he said, his voice firm. Ignoring his own words to Dante, he shook Nero a little. “Nero.”
His shaking was getting worse. Vergil put a hand behind his head in case he started convulsing again, not wanting him to bang it against the wall. Nero surprised him by leaning into the touch.
Comfort, right. That’s why he hadn’t stabbed Dante to death. And now Dante wasn’t here. Shit.
“Nero, can you hear me?” he asked. He almost hoped Nero couldn’t. He had no idea what to actually say.
Nero’s eyes rolled in his direction, unfocused by undoubtedly semi-conscious now. Shit.
“Don’t try to move,” Vergil ordered, because it seemed a sensible command.
He realized too late that moving wasn’t the issue. The damn brat had inherited his uncle’s mouth.
“C-Can’t…m-m-move.” Nero’s words were horrifically slurred, hard to understand.
“Evidently all you can move is your mouth,” Vergil grumbled. “Stop talking.”
Nero gasped in a breath. “B-Breathe-”
His breath was getting shallower. Vergil shifted, getting his hands behind Nero and carefully adjusting him, trying to maneuver him into a more comfortable position.
It was possible the poison was constricting his airway. Vergil felt a sudden spike of dread at the thought of Nero suffocating while Vergil held him like this, helpless to do anything but decide whether to end the boy’s suffering or wait for help.
But as he shifted Nero into a better position, his breathing became easier. Vergil kept adjusting him, encouraged by the way Nero’s shoulders relaxed and he took deeper breaths.
“There we go, that’s it…” He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words left him anyway.
He held Nero in place, one hand wrapped around his shoulders to keep him upright and the other on the back of his neck to support the placement of his head. Nero closed his eyes and took more deep breaths.
“Th…Thanks,” he managed.
Vergil nodded, even though Nero’s eyes were closed again. Nero’s body slumped the slightest as he lost consciousness again.
Vergil eyed him. If he released Nero, it was possible he would suffocate. Vergil quite literally held the boy’s life in his hands.
For the first time in a very long time, he held that life with a determined care.
59 notes · View notes
bloodsweatandpotato · 2 years
Note
👯‍♀ and ❄
👯‍♀️ (shapeshifter) and ❄ (cold)
Fandom: Original work??? (See character section for more info)
Characters: could be read as either generic shapeshifter or the character Double Trouble from the She-Ra reboot series (I have recently had major brainrot for them sorry 👉👈)
Tw: VERY slight blood
They curled up tighter, once again cursing their reptilian biology. No matter how many jokes they liked to make about being cold blooded, that was the one part of being shapeshifter that they absolutely despised.
Even shivering would have been welcome at this point.
The cave was small and uncomfortable, but at least it was dry. They hasn’t meant to get caught out in the rain, but here they were. The mix of rain and snow settled on the ground as freezing slush.
They couldn’t feel their extremities anymore, from their hands to their feet, and the numbness of cold crept up their tail slowly but surely.
The humanoid attempted to sit up, ignoring every instinct screaming at them to curl up on their side and sleep. Brumation (the reptilian form of hibernation) wasn’t on their agenda, and even if their eyes were drooping and their muscles locked with cold, they still had enough presence of mind to know they had to keep moving.
They managed to make it halfway to a sitting position, leaning back against the cave wall with a groan.
They pressed to clawed fingers to their neck, counting the sound of their pulse in their ears (their fingers were numb enough that feeling the throbbing vein was impossible).
It was far too slow, and even though they had expected as much, they still gave a low, disappointed sigh. They crawled to the entrance of the cave, mentally calculating how far from their base they were.
They could make it.
Probably…
They braced themself, before lunging out into the cold, stumbling on their feet as the cold shocked their system, seeping into their bones. They quickly shifted into someone larger from their mental database, not bothering to even think about who they had just become.
It didn’t matter as of then, nobody would see them anyway, and they were hoping the larger body mass would keep them warm for just a little bit longer.
They launched themself forward, running on unsteady, unfamiliar legs. The humanoid only had one thing on their mind: keep moving forward. Tearing through the storm-dark forest, they stumbled over rocks and roots in their desperate bid for safety.
The rain bit though their clothes, pelting their skin like frozen bullets.
They could barely see the makeshift path beneath their feet, vision blurring from both the rain and the beginning of brumation.
Maybe that justified how they tripped over their own feet and rolled head over heels, before coming to an abrupt, ungraceful stop at the bottom of a tree. Even then, they still would look back on that moment with embarrassment and contempt (the humanoid prided themself on being agile and light on their feet).
Their vision spun, and they blinked slowly, trying to focus. Bracing their arms underneath them, they tried to leverage themself up.
They failed.
Falling flat on their face in the muddy, slush covered cradle of tree roots, they gave up.
Unable to stay awake any longer, a violent, convulsive shiver wracked their body. A flash of black and white, and they were back in their base form, tail curled around them, green skin tinted white with cold.
Yellow eyes opened a crack, before rolling back, eyelids closing. Blue blood leaked sluggishly from their numerous cuts and scrapes, freezing on their skin. As their breathing and heartbeat slowed, the humanoid slipped fully into unconsciousness.
They would stay like that until the cold let up, muscles stiff and locked, body frozen as they floated in a dreamless mockery of sleep.
17 notes · View notes