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Ftm!Raiden x M!reader - public cuddle

The atmosphere in the tea house was warm and inviting, the low hum of conversation blending with the soft clink of tea cups against wooden tables. The earthy scent of brewed tea and herbal blends filled the air, adding to the peaceful ambiance. You and Raiden had found a quiet corner, away from the main crowd, tucked into a plush seat by the window. It was the perfect place to unwind after a long day.

Raiden, with his soft, serene presence, leaned into you, his head resting comfortably on your shoulder. The weight of him was soothing, grounding you in the present. His long, silver hair, usually tied up in battle, cascaded down freely, shimmering in the sunlight. There was a noticeable ease in the way he pressed into you, as if this peaceful moment was the only thing that mattered.

“I needed this,” Raiden said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand rested gently on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in slow, rhythmic motions. The subtle gesture was intimate, a silent expression of affection that didn’t need words.

You smiled, placing your hand over his, squeezing lightly. “You work too hard. Even gods need to rest sometimes.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he turned his head slightly to look up at you. His blue eyes shimmered with warmth, a stark contrast to the intense gaze he usually carried on the battlefield. This was Raiden at his most vulnerable—calm, unguarded, just Raiden, the man you loved.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted softly, his voice sincere. It was rare for Raiden to express his feelings so openly, especially in public, but here, in this quiet tea house with only a few patrons around, it felt like the right time.

You kissed the top of his head, fingers lightly brushing through his silver hair. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m always here.”

The tea cups on the table were cooling down, but neither of you made a move to finish the drinks. You were content just holding each other, the outside world irrelevant in this moment. The gentle breeze from the open window fluttered the edges of Raiden’s robes, the sound of it almost like a soft lullaby. He shifted slightly, turning so he could rest his head against your chest, his arms loosely wrapping around your waist.

A few patrons glanced your way, but no one said anything. It wasn’t unusual for couples to share moments of affection here, and besides, Raiden deserved this. He deserved to have a moment where he didn’t have to worry about the responsibilities of protecting realms, where he could just be with you.

You tightened your hold on him, leaning back into the seat. “We should do this more often.”

Raiden nodded, his eyes closing as he nuzzled closer. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice already growing quieter, sleep tugging at him. “More often.”

And in that peaceful tea house, with the sunlight bathing both of you in warmth, you held him close, promising silently that there would always be more moments like this.

Smoke x reptile - biteing

The dimly lit room reeked of blood, sweat, and the faint tang of ozone from the recent battle. Smoke leaned back against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, watching Reptile as he methodically cleaned his blades. His green, scaly skin caught the flickering light of the torches as he moved. There was a tension between them that had been building for what seemed like months.

Smoke had always been the silent observer, never one to show much emotion. But lately, his interactions with Reptile had become… different. A subtle change in the way they fought side by side, the way their eyes met just a little too long, or the way Reptile’s growls softened when he spoke to him. Reptile was usually distant, a creature of instinct and venom, but there was something underneath that cold exterior that intrigued Smoke.

The Shirai Ryu warrior couldn't deny that he had a soft spot for Reptile, despite his strange, almost feral nature. There was something about the beastly fighter’s raw power, his unpredictability, that stirred something within Smoke. Reptile, on the other hand, had a more… primal way of showing his affections. Smoke wasn’t exactly used to affection, but the first time Reptile bit him, he was sure it was an attack.

They had been sparring, pushing each other to their limits as always, when Reptile suddenly lunged at him with bared fangs. Before Smoke could react, Reptile’s teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder, not enough to seriously injure him, but enough to leave a mark. Smoke’s immediate reaction was to fight back, but the look in Reptile’s eyes stopped him. It wasn’t aggression. There was no malice in his yellow, reptilian gaze. It was… something else.

The next time it happened, Smoke was more prepared. They had been in the middle of a mission, surrounded by enemies, when Reptile, in a brief moment of victory, snapped his jaws and bit into Smoke’s forearm. The pain was sharp, but fleeting, and when Reptile pulled back, Smoke saw that same peculiar glint in his eyes again.

Now, sitting in the dim chamber, Smoke rolled his shoulder where the first bite had healed, the faint scar hidden beneath his armor. He sighed and closed his eyes, a mix of exasperation and amusement crossing his face.

"You really have a strange way of showing affection," Smoke muttered under his breath, knowing Reptile could hear him.

Reptile looked up from his blades, hissing softly. “It is… instinct,” he rasped, his voice low and guttural. “A sign of loyalty.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “Loyalty, huh? Most people give flowers. Or a handshake.”

Reptile tilted his head, slithering closer with a quiet hiss. “I am not… most people.” His voice carried an almost playful undertone.

Smoke smirked, shaking his head. “No, you’re definitely not.”

Before he could say more, Reptile leaned in, fangs bared once more. Smoke tensed for just a second, but when Reptile’s teeth sank lightly into his side, Smoke just let out a small chuckle. This was Reptile’s way. Rough, primal, and unmistakably him.

And in his own way, Smoke didn’t mind.

johnny x kenshi - massage

The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Kenshi sat cross-legged on the floor. He let out a slow breath, trying to center himself. After the last mission, his body felt like it had been through a gauntlet — tight muscles, lingering aches, and exhaustion wrapped around him like an unwelcome blanket.

Johnny Cage, on the other hand, had barely broken a sweat. “Man, for a guy who’s practically a ninja, you sure know how to get yourself in a bind,” Johnny teased, tossing his sunglasses onto the couch as he strolled over.

Kenshi could hear the smirk in Johnny’s voice. “I don’t need to see to know you’re being an ass,” Kenshi muttered.

Johnny laughed, the kind of carefree, cocky chuckle that could either be endearing or infuriating depending on the day. “Hey, I’m serious! I got the whole ‘no pain, no gain’ thing going, but you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. And trust me, buddy, that doesn’t look good on you.”

Kenshi didn’t respond, focusing instead on another slow breath. Silence hung between them until Johnny, ever restless, dropped down to the floor behind Kenshi. “Alright, sit still,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. "The Hollywood star is about to work some magic."

Kenshi raised an eyebrow beneath his blindfold. “What are you doing, Cage?”

“Dude, relax. It’s just a massage. You ever heard of one?”

Before Kenshi could protest, Johnny placed his hands on Kenshi’s shoulders, applying gentle pressure. Kenshi’s first instinct was to tense up — combat made him wary of any unexpected touch — but the pressure wasn’t invasive, and the rhythm of Johnny’s hands was surprisingly… comforting.

“Look, I get it, man,” Johnny said, working out a knot near Kenshi’s neck. “The whole blind swordsman thing? Super badass. But even badasses need to chill out sometimes. Consider this my thanks for saving my ass back there.”

Kenshi’s lips twitched into a small smile, though he kept it hidden. “I didn’t realize gratitude came with this kind of... treatment.”

“You’re welcome,” Johnny shot back, his voice lighter now. “Don’t get used to it, though. My hands are insured, you know.”

The tension in Kenshi’s muscles gradually started to ease. Johnny was surprisingly skilled at this — a side effect of his life as an actor, always in need of post-stunt relaxation, maybe. His touch wasn’t overly firm, just enough to coax the tightness from Kenshi’s back and shoulders. Johnny’s natural charisma helped too, in its own odd way — distracting him from the soreness with easy banter.

“Feel like a new man yet?” Johnny asked, cracking his knuckles as he moved to Kenshi’s lower back.

“Not bad,” Kenshi admitted quietly, his voice losing some of its usual guarded edge. “You missed your calling, Cage. You’d make a decent masseuse.”

Johnny grinned. “You kidding me? That’s what the critics said after my last movie too.” He paused for a second, the room falling quiet again. “But seriously, Kenshi… you good?”

Kenshi knew Johnny wasn’t just talking about his muscles now. He let the silence settle, considering how to answer. In truth, the weight Johnny had joked about earlier was real — a burden Kenshi always carried, even if no one could see it. The lives lost, the battles fought, and the constant struggle to keep control.

But right now, in this small moment of calm, it was enough to just say, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Johnny gave his shoulder a playful slap. “That’s what I like to hear.”

As Johnny leaned back, his hands retreating, Kenshi straightened up, rolling his shoulders with newfound ease. “You know, Cage, for someone who talks too much, you’re not half bad.”

Johnny laughed, pushing himself up to his feet. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, dude. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Kenshi stood as well, turning to face his friend with a rare smile. “So do I.”

And for the first time in what felt like days, Kenshi didn’t feel like he was carrying the world on his back. Just for a moment, in Johnny’s strange, ridiculous way, the weight had lifted.

Alt tital: rooftop [Leo x Vincent] [rope work, stigmatophile, body worship, muscle worship, degradation and praise, oral fixation, some humiliation, soft dom/sub, slight comfort/low-key angry sex, impact play] [towards the end of the game, maybe even post cannon (if we say the rooftop scene never happens)] 

I forgot about the stigmatophile sorry pookie

Vincent held the gun in his hand and looked down at Leo, his body stuttered trying to breathe; he was bleeding from the earlier fight in the building. "Fuck," Vincent looked away, unable to look at the criminal in front of him. 

Vincent stood on the rooftop, the city’s lights flickering below like a sea of stars. The chill in the night air did nothing to ease the burning in his chest. He held the gun tightly in his hand, his fingers trembling despite his grip. Blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt from the gash on his side, a reminder of the brutal fight inside the building. 

Leo, sprawled on the cold concrete, looked up at him with a mixture of defiance and resignation. His suit was tattered, and the sneer that once adorned his face was now replaced by a painful grimace. Vincent could hardly meet his gaze. The weight of the decision he was about to make felt like an anchor dragging him down.

"Fuck," Vincent muttered, his voice cracking as he turned his head away from Leo’s piercing eyes. The sight of him, vulnerable and defeated, was almost too much to bear. He could still hear the echoes of their fight, the sharp retorts of gunfire, and Leo’s taunts that had once cut deep. But now, those words seemed distant, drowned out by the roar of Vincent’s own inner turmoil.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Vincent said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with regret. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion that made his knees buckle slightly.

Leo's eyes, though filled with pain, held a flicker of something akin to understanding. He had always been a step ahead, always knowing the dark paths Vincent would tread. “Do it.” Leo’s voice was raspy, but there was a strange calm in his tone. “If you’re going to pull the trigger, just get it over with.”

Vincent’s hand shook even more, the gun lowering as tears blurred his vision. He clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him like a vice. He could no longer separate justice from vengeance. 

With a final, shuddering breath, Vincent dropped the gun to the ground. Leo took a tentative step forward, his eyes searching Vincent’s for any sign of lingering hostility. When he found none, he closed the distance between them and, without a word, wrapped his arms around Vincent in a tight, desperate hug. Vincent stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such an overt display of emotion, but then he relaxed, allowing himself to be held and to feel the warmth of his friend’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I let things get out of control.”

“Me too,” Leo replied, his voice muffled against Vincent’s shoulder. “But we’re going to be okay. We’ve always got each other’s backs, right?”

Vincent nodded. A lump formed in his throat. The hug lingered, both men holding on as if afraid to let go, afraid that the moment would slip away and leave them in the cold, harsh reality once more.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled back, both a little embarrassed by the display but also feeling a weight lift from their shoulders.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Leo said, his voice lighter, almost teasing. “How about we find a place to crash for the night? Somewhere… quiet.”

Vincent smirked, the tension easing from his features. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s go.”

They left the rooftop together, the heavy silence of the city night enveloping them as they walked side by side. Neither spoke much as they made their way to a nearby motel, the neon sign flickering in the darkness like a beacon of hope.

Once inside the modest room, the door clicking shut behind them, a sense of calm settled over them both. The adrenaline that had fueled their confrontation had long since dissipated, leaving only exhaustion and the lingering remnants of their frayed emotions.

Leo flopped down on one of the beds, kicking off his boots and letting out a deep, weary sigh. "Man," Vincent had left for the bathroom for a medical kit; he came back a moment later. "I am exhausted."

Vincent chuckled softly, sitting on the edge of the other bed and running a hand through his hair. “No kidding.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet between them no longer strained but comfortable. Vincent and Leon patching themselves up both had terrible aim, only grazing each other with bullets but.Eventually, Leo patted the space beside him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “C’mere. We could both use some rest.”

Vincent hesitated only for a moment before he joined Leo, lying down beside him. There was no need for words as they settled in, their bodies instinctively curling toward each other, seeking warmth and comfort.

Leo draped an arm over Vincent’s waist, holding him close as if to reassure himself that his friend was really there, alive and well. Vincent let out a contented sigh, his eyes slipping closed as he allowed himself to relax completely, something he hadn’t done in far too long.

“I’m glad we didn’t do anything stupid back there,” Leo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, me too,” Vincent replied, his voice drowsy with exhaustion.

They lay there in the dark, the steady rhythm of their breathing the only sound in the room. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed them both, the weight of the day finally lifting as they found solace in each other’s presence.

In the morning, there would be time to talk, to sort through the mess they had made and figure out where to go from here. 

After a while of just lying there in silence, Leo made the first move; he snuck his hand to Vincent’s hip. "Leo, what the fuck are you doing?" Vincent huffed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the criminal; Leo was just rubbing circles into Vincent’s hip bone.

"You know... You're kinda," Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Pretty, i guess," Leo mumbled. Maybe he had lost more blood than Vincent originally thought. "Pretty? Your joking." "No, I'm not maybe not pretty, but you are attractive." Vincent still had an odd feeling about this, like something in his gut was just hit. Well, something hit a few hours ago, but that's not the point.

Vincent relaxed a little bit and just let Leo be touchy, then he felt it. "Please tell me you just brought a gun to bed." Vincent's grimace was evident in his voice. Leo moved a little closer, his nose grazing Vincent's neck. "Guess agian~" Leo purred his cold finger, touching the bandage around Vincent’s midsection; it was now covered in wounds, he said, because then again he had matching ones.

Leo bit Vincent's neck, surprised that Vincent didn't object or push him off; he sucked on the skin a little before pulling away and assaulting another bit of Vincent's neck. Leo sat up and moved in front of Vincent in between his legs. "What are you doing now?" His tone was harsh, but it lacked bite. "Youll see."

Leo unzipped Vincent's dirtied pants and pulled his boxers down a bit. He leaned down and took Vincent length into his mouth. He bobbed his head. Leo could almost feel his eyes roll to the back of his head as he started sucking, his tongue rubbing over the underside of the Vincent member. It felt good, almost soothing to Leo, a warm, heavy weight on his tongue, pinning it to the bottom of his mouth.

"... hmmm fuck, I swear to god you and your damn sucking fetish," Vincent groaned. Leo rolled his eyes but continued anyway.

Leo was melting under the attention, Vincent's rough grip in his hair, the heavy weight on his tongue, and his growing erection getting rubbed raw by the front of his jeans. Leo's pace slowed even more, until he was just sucking on Vincent Cock; it was a perfect fit for Leo's mouth. He started to palm himself while cockwarming the cop in front of him. His nose was pressed against Vincent's fupa as he undid his own pants while lazily sucking on Vincent.

Vincent grew tired of the slow pace; after a while, he pulled Leo off by the hair and turned him around. He helped Leo lay back on the pillows on the bed; he slid Leo's pants down to his midthigh. 

"Open," Vincent muttered, "eye-caps," "dont... just don't," Leo groaned, "your boring." Lep grabbed Vincent's hand and placed two of his fingers between his lips and started to suckle his tongue, sliding around, between, and over Vincent’s fingers. 

Vincent pulled his fingee from Leo's mouth much to the displeasure of the other man. He gently rolled Leo over and very slowly pressed one finger into Leo's ass, "Good, stay nice, and still for me." 

Soon he pushed a second finger in pumping them in and out before moving to sissor him slowly listening to Leo's soft groaning and grumbling. Vincent removed his fingers and said, "What? Hey, I wasn't done," Leo huffed. His agitation melted when Vincent pushed his length to Leo's ass. "Oh, shut up." Both men hissed at the friction. Leo's face was pressed to the bed as Vincent got a grip on his hair hanging. The only glue between the two was spit and a half-streched hole. 

After some time, Vincent pulled his belt out from his sagging jean loops; he pulled it around Leo's arm, making a handle of sorts to hold onto, and started to pump in and out. Leo snarled at the feeling but didn't say anything. He started to go faster, one hand on Leo's prominent hip and the other on Leo's head, shoving the younger man into the bed.

"Can you go any slower?" Leo growled, trying to enable Vincent, resulting in a slap. Vincent hit his hand against his bottom, earning a yelp out of Leo. "Hey!"

"Fuck you, fucking brat." Vincent grunted his hand and came into contact with Leo's ass again, leaving a stinging red mark in its wake. Leo was starting to tire a little, his wrist just starting to chaf from the belt. 

"Fuck," Leo groaned as his guts were rearranged; he felt a familiar coil in his loins; Vincent did too. Vincent huffed, trying to keep his pase; he was sweating in places he didn't know he could; it trickled down his plush stomach, dripping to Leo's equally sweaty body. Leo's face was red and hot, his neck from the pressure Vincent applied.

Leo was panting hard; his eyes clamped shut and eyebrows furrowed. "Mmm, sorry," Vincent said lazily, his pace slowed as he came filling Leo up. Leo followed quick, gasping from his exersion. Vincent stayed inside, removing his belt from Leo's wrists; they were red from friction.

Vincent leaned over, spooning Leo as he gulped in air. They were winded, sweaty, and tired; Leo was a little thirsty but didn't complain. Leo was the first to fall asleep, soon followed by Vincent, who half pulled the sheet over them.

They were so in love give me a bit!!

Kinktober day 31 - sparing

Ftm!Johnny x Scorpion

Written by 💯

Johnny looks up from his phone (which has a livestream with 50 million of his fans watching him) at the sound of footsteps hitting against the rock tiles on the floor to see Scorpion. Johnny forgot that he was supposed to spar with him today (he was too busy filing paperwork and talking to his fans to remember that anyways).

Johnny quietly cursed under his breath as his memories finally came back to him as he started to stand up and face his fears. Scorpion was slightly taken aback by Johnny, not already being in a fighting stance and ready to fight. "You forgot we were sparring today didn't you?" Scorpion asked Johnny, trying not to show the slight surprise in his voice.

As Johnny nodded, Scorpion sighed and wrote it off in his mind that Johnny was just busy and couldn't keep track of the fact they were training. Then Johnny finally got into his fighting stance and pushed his $50,000 glasses up on his nose, as Scorpion got into his fighting stance as well.

After a quick exchange of bows (where Scorpion did a full bow and Johnny half-assed it because he's American) the fighting finally commenced. As sparring usually went; kicks, punches, blocks, and spears were all being thrown at the other in an intensely quick manor.

Of course, as sparring usually went for Johnny, Scorpion came on top, of course with Johnny's shattered glasses hanging half-way off his face, a myrical that they hadn't gone flying off or broke in two. Johnny sighed and accepted Scorpions help to stand up, before Scorpion commemorated him for fighting well before heading off. Then, of course, Johnny mumbled something about "Those glasses were expensive..." before walking away, defeated.

Kinktober Day 29 - readering

Johnny x Kenshi

Written by 💯

Johnny is laying down on his huge king sized bed, one arm softly wrapped around Kenshi's neck as he reads silently to himself. Kenshi quietly lays his head on Johnny's chest, which is slowly rising and falling, his heartbeat beating endlessly like a drum into Kenshi's ears.

"Johnny, could you read your book outloud to me? I can't sleep." Kenshi asks Johnny in a groggy voice as he looks up at him to get his attention. Johnny sighs quietly to himself and let's out a soft chuckle as he nods to his friend Kenshi before starting to quietly read his book outload.

After a surprisingly short period of time, Kenshi's breathing slows and a soft snore can be heard escaping his nose. Johnny chuckles to himself as he looks at Kenshi's sleeping body on top of his before staying going back to reading his book silently to himself again.

Kinktober day 24 - interrogation

Shang tsung X m!reader

You had to grab his chin and force him to look at you; his nose is bleeding and his face is bruised. He had been handcuffed to a chair; you had seen his bulge under his clothing, begging for some type of attention, yet he snarled, bearing his teeth with a faux threat. You roughly wrapped a hand around his neck, now bent over the table, your off-hand gently rubbing his bulge. His face hit the cold table, and he mewed and begged and spilled everything, telling you anything you wanted to try and finish. His blood dripped onto the table, his bone occasionally twitching from the touches. Once he told you everything you wanted, you made him finish, quickly cuffing him back to the chair, as a little wet spot slowly appeared at the front of his pants.

Kinktober day 23.

Mk1!ftm!Raiden x M!reader - rewards

A/n: reader is the demi god of lighting

When you arrived at the arena you could tell your powers flowed through him; but that was hours ago, he had won and now he claimed his victory, he was in your lap you were in him, letting him do as he wished, picking the speed the roughness, he rocked his hip trying to get more pleasure, one hand goes down to his Tdick, matching his pace, he looked beautiful like his, taking the reward he earned.