#zenos yae galvus x reader

[agent-cupcake]

Sugar

Pairing: Zenos yae Galvus x f!Reader Kink: Cockwarming Tags: Explicit, size kink, dub/noncon, blood and gore, pain, trauma, dark Word Count: 3k

In third place we have the crown prince himself in a story that took a darker tone than anticipated because more than anything sexual, I fetishize suffering and Zenos is a toughie to write. Enjoy :D

At first, you believed it was a kind dream. A gift after the horrible week you’d had. Dreaming of a man, a head against your chest with hair that was silky against your skin. A warm, solid body entwined with yours, practically a wall of firm muscle. A suggestively hard press against your thigh. Skin against skin, nothing between you.  

You should have known. You weren’t deserving of a kind dream.

But you realized that slowly. The pillow was softer than your own. As was the bed. Certainly not yours. And the blond hair and ridiculously solid body and fancy room all built up into a fragmented memory of who you had been with the night before. As soon as you fully understood that it wasn’t a dream, so too were you given a vague concept of what had happened. Blood. Terror. Violence meeting violence, life mingling with death until the two were inseparable. Instinctively, your whole body jerked away from the embrace, trying to untangle yourself from him. 

Zenos made an irritated sound, his arms flexing to force you back into place. It made you realize that the position wasn’t so much like cuddling as he was using you as an extra pillow. 

“I do hope you’ve a good reason to wake me,” he said, his voice husky from just waking up. The way it rumbled against you only further solidified the reality of your situation, absurd as it was.  

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you finally said, hoping that was the right answer. 

“It is too late for that,” he said, though he didn’t move, his head remaining pressed against your chest. An agonizingly long time passed in silence. You didn’t dare move again, although there was no chance you would go back to sleep. Zenos finally groaned, a low noise that went straight to your core, made you that much more aware of his cock against your thigh. “Your racing heart beats to a most enticing rhythm. What passion do I hear pounding within your breast now, I wonder. Fear? Anger? Excitement? Do you yourself know?”

“I… don’t,” you answered honestly, barely aware of his question. Shock was a drug unto itself, although you had never felt its effects so profoundly. The whole night was enshrouded in the heavy velvet of a nightmare, although not so much that you could forget the rush. Whether or not that applied only to the sex, you didn’t know. There were a lot of things you didn’t know. 

Zenos hummed, releasing you to roll onto his back. You twisted away immediately, pulling the sheet up to your chest with a death grip. Moving hurt. Everything hurt. Not to mention the way the shift caused your head to spin. There was no way to discern the time, not with thick blinds drawn over the windows. There was enough light for you to see the prince. Zenos stood out against the dark bedding, a beacon of porcelain and spun gold. He laid on his back in the center, a muscular arm curled beneath his head. Even with one leg bent up and the sheet providing loose modesty, his erection was obvious. As were the stains. Stiff globs of dried cum, and blood. 

Everything was painted in blood. A world coated in red.  

You licked your lip, wincing at the fresh split, and the memories it brought. Blood’s tangy, sickening zing was all you could taste when Zenos’s mouth met yours. Your own blood, your lip had split pretty bad when the man punched you the first time. At first you thought Zenos was giving you a kiss, but he wasn’t that type. Maybe he was some sort of blood feasting monster like people said, he’d definitely had his fill of yours. 

“I have to go,” you said, shaking your head in denial, or maybe rejection. Too late for that. “Asina will be furious if I’m late.” 

“I won’t force you to stay,” Zenos told you lazily, “although I doubt he will gladly invite your presence. Not after the mess you made of his lab.” 

Your shoulders tensed, eyes squeezing shut. The mess you left was irreconcilable with reality. A sequence of bad comedy. No jokes, but there had been laughter. 

“You need not feign regret. I have seen the truth with my own eyes,” Zenos said. 

“The truth?” you echoed flatly, keeping your eyes closed. 

“A beast was responsible for that man’s death, not a girl,” he explained in a softly matter-of-fact tone. “It was exactly as I hoped. At the climax of your brutality, there was a flicker of something… magnificent within your eyes. Rage, hunger, the desire to sink your teeth into the neck of any man who would threaten you, to gorge yourself with his blood.”

“I was defending myself,” you said, opening your eyes. Why? To convince him? To plead with him? Zenos was clearly unimpressed.  

“Whatever motivation you believe justifies your actions does nothing to change what you are,” Zenos told you, grabbing the sheet to pull it out of your hands and away from your body. You didn’t resist as much as you should have, you didn’t know if you should, or if you wanted to. “It is by your deeds that you are defined and judged.” The ruined, silken fabric pooled around your hips. Zenos’s eyes dragged over the patchwork of bruises covering your torso. Some of them were from the fight—yes, it had been a fight—and some were from him. You weren’t sure which set caught his eye, had his tongue running across his perfectly pink lower lip. “And by your deeds that the debt of consequence is incurred. By all means, tell yourself what you will, live by the rule that has failed you, but know that you will pay.”

Of all the awful things to feel while sitting naked before the prince of Garlemald, listening to him lecture you about consequence, you were overcome with awkward uncertainty. Fear was more appropriate, you had every reason to fear Zenos. If you hated him, that would also make sense. The insecurity was unexpected, and unexpectedly crippling. He had watched you fight for your life and done nothing. Why? What business did he have in the lab so late at night? Why didn’t he help? 

But maybe you knew why. 

Maybe you didn’t want to. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, meeting Zenos’s eyes. Beastly blue, void of compassion or empathy, you weren’t looking for humanity. You wanted a prince, a Legatus. “Tell me what… what I should do.” 

 “Sit astride my hips and impale yourself upon my cock,” he said, his head tilting sideways into the cradle of his arm. “Clarity did seem to come to you not long after I had sheathed myself within you.”  

A shudder worked down your spine. Even if you couldn’t remember anything at all, you would know that Zenos hadn’t been gentle. And the rest came to you in fragmented bits. He said he was pleased with you. That you were worthy. He folded you up with your knees to your chest and fucked you like an animal and you urged him on at every turn, panting and shaking and drooling like you were in heat. It hurt, it hurt more than it should have, but you relished the pain because it broke through the sharp glass in your head, giving you something. The pleasure had been a surprise then, although you should have expected it given how wet you were, wet enough to hear it, to add to the vulgar slapping of skin and helpless cries and the indecent coupling of beasts. 

You shook your head, trying to focus. Right then, you knew he didn’t care about what you felt. He was hard and you were here, you knew enough about men to understand that you were being used. 

“Okay,” you agreed, blinking fast to remain grounded. 

Zenos did nothing, simply watching you. Expectant. Swallowing down your nerves, you pushed the sheet off of him. He sprawled across the bed, completely naked with the same insouciant swagger he took to the throne room and the battlefield. Unfazed, as if it were all the same to him. Maybe it was, Zenos didn’t even move, although you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback, your pussy clenching uncomfortably at the sight of his cock. At the size, really. It was one thing to feel the stretch, and another to see why you were so sore. He didn’t do or say anything when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, didn’t react in the slightest when you leaned down to wrap your lips around the head, getting his dick as slick as possible. It hurt your split lip and you could feel his impatience, but it was necessary. 

“I did not ask for your mouth,” Zenos snapped. You looked up at him, a strand of saliva connecting your lips to the flushed head of his cock as you pulled off. His eyes followed that, darkening ever so slightly. Like they had as he stood in the doorway, his eyes tracking a goopy chunk of something bloody as it dripped from the broken device you had used as an impromptu bludgeon. 

Then, before then, the lab was dark and you were putting files away for the night. You had no idea if the man was a soldier or a researcher when he came in through that doorway, only that he knew who you were and had sought you out while you were alone. To get rid of the interloper. Nobody liked or respected you, regardless of what you did, or how good you were—and you were the best, why else would you be suffered? All he saw when he came in with fire in his eyes was a savage who had taken something away from a pure-blooded Garlean scientist and, after the first punch, something in you snapped. 

Then, after then, Zenos stood there in the same doorway, and he laughed in delight.

Throwing a leg over his hip, you poised yourself above him, rolling your hips over the head of his cock to ease yourself onto him. But you looked down at Zenos, splayed comfortably across the pillows, and you remembered the sight of another man beneath you, his eyes bulging and face twitching as you hit him over and over again. Something had broken in his throat when you struck his neck. His screams gurgled painfully out of his chest with thick bubbles of bloody spittle, the sound wet and guttural like the creatures that gathered in dark sticky bogs. That’s what the air felt like too. Dense and humid and foul. 

You weren’t moving, so Zenos took hold of your hips and pulled you down. The pressure of his cock pushing past the sore muscles of your entrance and settling there was enough to make you yelp, your body jerking away instinctively, half caught in nightmarish memory. Zenos caught your bruised hips before you could, dragging you down a little further.

Breathe. Relax. What else could you do? 

“Sl-oh… Zenos,” you gasped, unable to be more articulate as you rolled your hips, trying to mitigate the stretching ache. 

The prince peered up at you from under those thick lashes with a smug smile. He looked so much younger like this. Not much older than you. Beautiful. Before last night, you didn’t interact with him. He supported Asina’s research, and therefore your own, but he was so far above you there was no point in considering his appearance. You slid further down his cock, jaw dropping unconsciously. You couldn’t tell if the ripping sensation was new or aggravating pain from last night, only that it was intense. Good or bad didn’t matter, there was something new within you. Need.

The man kept twitching even after all those disgusting foamy noises were silenced. You didn’t stop hitting him, even though enough brain had been battered out of his broken skull for you to know he couldn’t still be alive. Why was that? Why hadn’t you stopped? When Zenos laughed in delight, you laughed too. 

“Eyes on me, girl.” Zenos punctuated the statement by thrusting upward, using the grip he had around your hips to roll them, to grind you down more and more onto his dick. 

That easily, you cracked. It hurt too acutely, too intimately. You couldn’t help but whine openly, tears forming in your eyes at the pain of his cock cruelly stretching out your raw cunt. You met his eyes, felt his amusement. And you, ever the reactionary, met that with your pain, your fear, your disgust, your embarrassment, your despair, your need. Everything, exposed entirely. 

“There it is.” Zenos said, almost triumphant. “I knew from the moment I saw your mask of apathy crack that I would enjoy taking you. Those eyes contain such…. vivacity. You respond as if every pain were your first, every sensation a new experience. To have you stripped before me and your true nature bared, that was well worth the effort.”

There was nothing you could say to that, even if you had the capacity to form words. A little further and you could feel his low groan rumble in Zenos’s chest, feel the path the sound made before it left his parted lips. That made you tense up, your pussy squeezing his cock, soaking it a little more. Pinching, stretching, aching, you opened your mouth as if to scream, but you knew you couldn’t. Like your throat had been bashed in, all you could do was whimper.

“I don’t mind your pleasure either. If I were not able to feel it in the coiling heat of your loins, I would know it writ plain on your face.” Once he was as deep inside of you as he could possibly manage, he held you there. No grinding, no thrusting, just the disquieting sensation of your pussy trying to adjust around his length without moving. “Enjoy it. Savor it. These moments of ecstasy will fade all too soon, leaving you bereft and empty.” 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the weight and heat inside of you and not on the memory of an empty, bereft body beneath you. “Can I…?” you impatiently moved your hips, anxious for more friction. It hurt, but you couldn’t help moaning either. 

“Mayhap later. For now, you may rest your head here,” Zenos said, touching his chest. 

The intimacy of the position struck you as uncannily disquieting and you wanted movement, to not think. You weren’t about to argue with him either. Biting your lip to avoid reacting at all to the uncomfortable weight of him inside of you, you lowered yourself down onto his broad chest. When you peeked up at him, his eyes were closed, those long eyelashes dusting his cheekbones. There was no way you could rest like this, not when your entire body was hyper attuned to every place you were connected. It was all you could do to hold yourself together. 

“I envy you,” Zenos told you, his voice lower. “To feel such lucidity… Would that I could relive my first.” 

Your only response was a shaky breath. Feeling the rumble of his words, the minute shifts of his body beneath you, of your pussy squeezing and twitching around him, was more than you could bear. There was no place to go with the excess, not externally or internally. 

“It is… the purest of any pleasure. Though we do not know it, that moment is the most alive we will ever be. Hitherto, ignorance. Thenceforth, starvation.” Zenos sighed. “If not for that perfect moment of clarity, what path would I have found? What would be the purpose of this trivial existence? I recall the delicious give of flesh yielding to my sword, the warmth enveloping my blade as it sliced through muscle and organ and bone.”

His hips rolled upward. Not thrusting, just grinding into you. His cock was thick enough that even that small amount of pressure was overwhelming. You whimpered, nails digging into his chest, but Zenos didn’t respond. 

“But before that, I remember blood bursting, gushing out of wounds, creating a torrential roar in my ears. My own fear, my own pain.” As the enthusiasm in his voice picked up, so did the way he rocked you back and forth. “The pungent odor of true, deserved violence and death thickening feverishly in the air.” 

Zenos stilled, leaving you shaking—shaking hard. Could he feel that, buried so deep inside of you? Could he feel how you trembled all the way down into your rotten core? Your pussy clamped down around him and a heavy breath caught in your chest, a little sob you couldn’t let out. You had to keep and hold it all inside, to savor, to suffer.  

“Yet,” he continued in a softer tone, indifferent to your plight. “Those details are insignificant. It is the look in his eyes that I truly crave. There is nothing in the world that can be compared to a predator at its peak forced to realize the failings of its own strength. To be aware, finally, of one's life, and aware of how easily it could slip away. Mere seconds of living, framed by an endless deluge of monotony. To know, and to never find satisfaction again. Now you know as well, my poor little beast.” 

One of his hands traced down your back, his fingertips digging into each ridge of your spine until settling again on your bruised hip. A cascade of chills broke out across your sweaty skin in his wake, and another full body shiver. You didn’t respond, distracted by the weight of Zenos’s cock, the feeling of fullness, letting that center you, unmake you. His words were nonsense in your ears, although you felt like you understood their significance. You didn’t want significance. 

“Zenos,” you said. Whined, maybe, too impatient. “I want…” 

“I know what you want, girl.” His hips rocked up and you yelped, burying your face against his chest again. Zenos’s heart was beating. That was, for some reason, extremely strange to you. That his heart should be beating as any man’s would, and that it should be so steady, so firm. So unmistakably alive. “Tell me… Tell me what it felt like when you beat a man to naught more than chunks of skull and brain. Mayhap then I shall deem you worthy of a reward.” 

[mothwingwritings]

Taming Of Beasts

Fem!Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

I wrote this right after I finished StormBlood a few months ago. Zenos is def one of my fav villians in Final Fantasy and I wanted to take a stab at trying to write something for him. :) I hope I did him an ounce of justice.

This is supposed to take place sometime between Heavensward and Stormblood. Ala Mhigo is still very much going through some shit in this little fic (and so is the reader, for that matter).

(Also Stormblood is free right now so if you have any interest and haven’t played, now is the time to act!!!)

Warnings: War, death, blood, spoilers possibly up to the point of stormblood? But not anything huge.

Victory had become too easy.

Over the past several months the thrill of the hunt had significantly waned, each battle presenting itself with less resistance than the one prior. Every adversary faced was now more apt to cower, roll over and submit then to stand up and fight. The empire’s spreading influence was quickly becoming far too overpowering for these backwater colonies to handle, and it was painfully apparent with each visit Zenos made that these hunting fields had long since held any interesting sport. Citizens who were once so eager to fight for their homeland now bared their stomachs like whimpering, scared dogs.

His father and the legion commanders saw it as a good thing, satisfied that the illustrious Garlean Empire was finally achieving what it rightfully deserved. With every passing day more land was claimed by the empire, and with the land came influence, victory, and boredom.

The successes were too easy and each day that dragged by in Ala Mihgo had grown lackluster to the empire’s crown prince. What was once an exciting hunting ground was now a barren isle, the lands that had brought thrilling promises of conquest now plagued by dwindling opposition, souring the once sweet experience he found roaming these fields.

Each step of his heavy sabatons sunk him into the earth, the dirt path softened with the spilled blood of the fallen. Droplets of the viscous red liquid stained the sole and sides of the dark metal, the agonized expressions of the corpses reflecting back off their bloodied surface as he paraded by.  Soon those bodies would be carted away, dumped in some unmarked mass grave to rot deep underground. There was neither honor nor peace in their passing, their miserable existences snuffed out as easily as blowing out a candle.

He smiled.

He was making his way towards a line of soldiers and survivors, and though the latter of the two outnumbered his battalion, they were far too broken to pose a threat. The group consisted of a varied mix of individuals, men and women, young and old, huddled together shoulder to shoulder. Most wept, while others remained silent and quivering. Held firmly in the soldiers grasps, none of the prisoners dared make eye contact with the approaching prince.

None save for you.

Wild was the only way he could describe you, ready to lunge at him the moment he took a step too close. Covered in blood, hair matted and tangled, outfit torn to shreds with gaping wounds peering out through the cracks, you were truly a sight to behold. It was obvious you had fought hard to earn your spot amongst the survivors, and judging by the more kempt look of your compatriots, you deserved it far more than they did.

While most of the prisoners shared a soldier keeping them in check, you had your own personal guard holding you under firm lockdown to prevent you from breaking free and causing issues. The soldier watching you seemed haggard, as if restraining someone as tiny as you had taken a great deal of effort. Zenos internally scoffed at the scene. There was no place for weakness in his battalion, he made note to exact due punishment later.

“Sir,” one of the men spoke as he approached, imperial salute following his words, “We have cleared the area. There was some opposition, but it has been dealt with.”

Zenos’ masked face scoured the surrounding area, finding far too many of their own men’s bodies mixed in with the mongrels. “Dealt with you say, but it seems you had quite the time taking over one small village.”

The soldier addressing him stiffened. “… It’s true, my lord. They did put up more of a fight than was anticipated. There is no excuse for the amount of lives our side lost.”

“If you are aware of that then it should have been avoided,” his cold words made the soldier visibly uneasy, his weight now shifting unsteadily between his feet, “but that may be addressed later. I see we have some cornered animals in our midst.”

The man quickly nodded, relieved to have the heat taken off himself. He turned to the disheveled group, causing them to flinch at the recognition.  “These are the enemy survivors, all of them active members of the resistance. Some, once trained, we believe may make fine soldiers. The others can be used as slaves, in the pleasure quarters, or as bargaining chips. Should my lord will it, we can instead kill them.”

A jolt passed through the crowd, a wave of sheer terror and indignation flashing across their muddied, bruised faces. Even you, staunch as you remained, shuddered at the flippant words that spilled from his soldier’s lips. The lot of you was nothing in the face of the Garlean Empire, and it horrified you that you lived or died at the whim of one man.

He did consider ending you all, leaving your final moments to be filled with dread and the futility of your efforts. How fitting it would be to have the final thought to flit through your fading conscious be your own ineptitude, the frailty you exuded trying to preserve your own existence for a chance at freedom. Your subjugation was inevitable, but he supposed being spared watching the rest of your brethren and kin being torn down until they were all nothing but toiling and obedient pets, cannon fodder, or corpses could be considered a nicety.

Mere inches separated you from the crown prince, and he took a moment to fully take you in. The unrestrained malice and fear dancing in your wide eyes, the tightly clenched fists held in place at your side, the deep grimace that engulfed your entire face. Your body shook in the guard’s hold, each quake relaying how clearly upset you were to be ensnared in this situation. If he ordered them to let you go, what would you do? Attack him the moment you were given leeway, or would you crumble to your knees in despair?

Musing on it piqued his interest. Hunched over before him, you looked so insignificant. Shuddering as you glowered up at him, he could tell you were on the brink of collapse but were doing your very best to hide your feebleness from him.

Your animosity was palpable, the kind that only comes when someone is pushed far past their limit. Your home, your family, your friends, his men must have taken it all from you. And now that you were captured, the torment you faced was sure to be dragged on, only guaranteed to end with your gruesome and painful death.

Zenos wondered if you realized how lucky you were to have survived to this point. Like a phoenix, you had risen from the ash of your past life, born into a new life of combat and strife, forged by the hells of war. The situation that was forced upon you was a truly wonderful breeding ground, an opportunity to mold you into something extraordinary.

But was it enough? You certainly had the look of a mad dog about you, but to show the true colors of a feral beast you would require more time. You needed more experiences to break you, rebuild you into a seething vessel of hatred, an avatar of merciless revenge.

If the process didn’t destroy you, how much more interesting would you become?

A slow smile crept across his lips.

There was a woman next you, older than you by at least two decades. Her manic eyes kept flicking to you, her chapped hands violently wringing the tattered rags that once resembled a dress. She seemed worried for you, and judging by the way your eyes darted to her every so often, softening with each quick gaze, it was fair to say she was someone important to you. Was she your mother, or perhaps an aunt? She was too old to be a sibling, but too young to be a grandparent. Maybe just a kind older woman you took a shine to? It mattered not, her end would happen regardless of her relations.

Zenos lifted his hand languidly, stopping once it had pointed to the woman beside you. She grew pale as he singled her out, her knees knocking so hard he was surprised she still stood. His hand swept over the remaining people, indiscriminately landing on two other elderly captives. An intense wave of unease spread throughout you, accented by the intense quiet that fell over the small crowd.

His lips parted, the words spilling out in a bored admonishment, “These three are past their prime and have no further use in this world.”

You froze, your face twisting into a look of unadultered dread. You knew what was coming next.

“Kill them.”

Without further fanfare, the soldiers nearest each of the chosen drew their weapons and fired. Three bodies fell with a uniformed ‘thud’ to the ground. Fresh blood streaked across your cheek as your companion made her way to the ground. Screams erupted around you, broken and gasping for their stolen loved ones.

Though your mouth had fallen open in shock, no sound spilled out.

The look of anguish the spread across your face was so appealing that he almost considered praising you for it. Cold, agonized distress suited you just as much as bitter rage.

With a flick of his wrist, he continued doling out fates. “The two on the end look sturdy enough to be soldiers, the three in the middle can be tasked with menial labor, and that one over there I am sure can find work in the pleasure quarters.”

“And what of this one, sir?”

The guard holding you gave you a rough jostle, seeming to bring you to your senses. Your eyes traveled slowly from the body at your feet to Zenos himself, the heartbreak you were suffering flickering out as it was once more replaced with thrumming anger. You gritted your teeth, eyebrows cinching as your chest began to rise and fall with erratic breaths. You were doing all you could to keep yourself together, but the final thread holding you was stretching so thin…

Zenos took a step towards you, the motion putting you on alert. You must have been ready for a death order, trying to make peace with the fact that this is how it would all end for you. With another step he was upon you, his regal form hulking before you. Your eyes fixated on his concealed face, a tempest of emotions swirling within them.  

His hand reached out towards you, and though your eyes sparked with a look of apprehension, you remained still. He latched on to your chin, giving a small pleased hum as he felt your flesh quiver in his hold. Upon contact, your face twisted into a look of sheer disgust which he found quite amusing.

You winced as he jerked your head this way and that, assessing the different angles of your face. Even covered in grime you were lovely, surely in more peaceful times you were sought after amongst the rabble to wed. His eyes flicked over your body, taking in each curve and valley viewable to him, the cuts and bruises that littered your skin only made you look that much more appealing.

“This one will serve me directly.”

Your eyes widened, a moment of silence spreading amongst the soldiers as they cast each other sideways glances. “My lord, are you sure,” the man holding you finally broke the silence, “This one is… Well, they are a bit unruly sir.”

He held back a laugh at the blush that passed your cheeks, affronted by the soldier’s choice of words. He guessed unruly was not how you would choose to be described in this situation.

“I can see that,” Zenos spoke plainly, releasing your chin from his grasp, “However a new personal servant is needed since one has recently passed of old age. This woman is lively and can handle the strains of the job. She will be trained in the role, broken down as many times as it takes till she understands her place.” He turned his back towards you and began his departure, his dull tone calling back over his shoulder, “If she can’t adjust to the position I will kill her myself.”

“Then do it.”

He stopped in his tracks, your shaky words the first time he had the pleasure of hearing your voice.  

“I’d rather die than serve you.”

Your voice warbled, but your message was loud and clear. It was a declaration you wanted people to hear. Was it to try and inspire your fellow man that lined up beside you, maybe place an ounce of fight back into the shackled and broken? Perhaps it was an attempt to boost confidence in yourself? Maybe it was simply an act of rage-filled defiance towards the man who personally led the charge which slaughtered your kin, their blood still freshly smeared across your hands and chest.  

It struck him then that you looked beautiful like that, scowling and full of fury, soaked in the blood of your loved ones and enemies alike. It surprised him that a mere pest could hold such radiance, his attraction to you stupefying as he turned towards you, your crazed eyes boring straight through his mask, locking with his own.

“Silence,” the guard holding you gave you a violent shake, “How dare trash like you address Lord Zenos that way, you impudent-“

“Enough.”

Zenos lifted his hand, the sharp command causing both you and the guard to instantly still, your eyes quickly casting to the ground in dismay. He could practically hear your thoughts as he made his way back towards you. Surely this was your now end, there was no way the crown Prince of the empire would let such insolence stand. You would be made an example of, another death to add to the killing field.

The thought annoyed him. Why were you so eager to die when you showed such promise?

He towered before you, his armored hand once more latching to your chin, forcibly tilting your head until he held your watery, conflicted gaze. He could feel you vibrate with anxiety in his hold, your jaw clenched so tight your face had turned red.

“What is it about the battlefield that makes people like you want to throw them self into deaths embrace so carelessly, I wonder? Is it lack of faith, or the overwhelming fear of the odds being stacked against you? Is it the heartbreak over having your loved one cut down before you? Maybe you are just tired of the inadequacy, of being so powerless before true might?”

Your face morphed into a look of disdain, a fresh tear sliding down your cheek carved a clear path through the filth that had accumulated on you.

“Don’t you find it a waste? All that potential building up inside of you, mounting with each hopeless assault against your people… I can see it in your eyes. The hunger to strike me down right where I stand,” he tightened his grip, causing you to cringe, “It’s an admirable quality to have, even for a cur such as yourself.”

Abruptly he pulled away, your head lulling forward from the lack of support. Zenos turned on his heel, stepping away to carry on with the next order of business.

“You have your orders,” He called briskly over his shoulder, “Make sure they are carried out with haste.”

The soldiers nodded, immediately falling into action as Zenos began his departure. He glanced once more over his shoulder as you were dragged away. With the wind no longer in your sails you were much more malleable, putting up little to no fuss as the soldiers ushered you to your fate.

The boredom he had long been suffering from started to diminish as he considered the future. A smirk ghosted his lips as he turned forward, a low hum accentuating his hurried footsteps.

“Who knew such an intriguing find would be buried within this rubbish,” he spoke in barely above a whisper, the words intended for no one but himself, “I am quite interested in what you will become, my little whelp.”

[zenoes]

omega zenos who acts nothing like a stereotypical omega. he’s way larger than anyone else, alpha & omega alike, bulkier too. and shows none of the typical behaviours. at least, not normally.

he’s a yearner. a very TERRIBLE yearner. he gets antsy when you’re gone without any word or explanation, having no sense of when you’ll come back. then once you do, you have to fight him about it. there’s no choice. he will fight you to the death over and over and over again and commit it to memory. because he missed you :3

i feel like zenos definitely DOES nest however he’s extra intense and weird about it, but those goes in a new post maybe bc it’s nyasty.

[cinnabun-faerie]

Zenos x Reader - Braiding your hair

A/N: Yet again I am bothered by my own format, so I'm remaking these!

[ASK] Sorry to add to ur load 🥺 but could I request some hair braiding for Estinien, urianger, graha, Zenos, and anyone else you’d like to add? Been in a mood for braiding someone else’s hair bc mine is too short to do anything with 😭

Surprising really good at braiding hair

he’s just more on the rough side

if you asked him to be gentle with your hair, he would begrudgingly do so

it was like asking him to be easy on his opponents instead of taking them down with one shot

doable but grating on his very being

if you didn’t care if he was rough with your hair, he was in his element

quiet as he went to work

chances are, you were used to having your hair pulled by him anyways

and despite everything, the braid looks very good on you

[snakegorl212006]

Zenos headcanons pt 2

Him as a yandere

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-I think there’s barely a difference between him as a yandere and when he’s not a yandere -but i would say. Everything he does is now intensified by 10000+% -let me explain -he’s already a possessive person and doesn't like anyone around you but now he’s in yandere mode you’re not allowed to hang out with anyone -he also becomes more murderous -if anyone ,besides himself and whoever he trust(if that’s even possible), will die or be threatened with their lives -he wants no competition once so ever -he’s one of those sadistic types of yandere -he wouldn't hurt you on purpose but absolutely LOVE when he’s S/o tries to escape and think they/he/she’ll get far -he would personally hunt you himself though all of Eorzea and beyond -once he catches you he would lock you up for a long time -he wouldn't lock you in a cell he’ll most likely lock you in his room -he’ll view you as a prized gem and would never fight you if you’re weak or frail -if you can fight and have good combat skills he would fight you until you fall or submit -this would be another punishment for escaping him -other then that he would treat you like a GOD -you want something he’ll get it for you -if you want to train with him he’ll make time -if you want to take a walk. As long as nobody looks in your direction sure -you’re his princess/prince/king/queen and everything in between -he would gift you with extravagant,or comfty if that's what you prefer he won’t judge, clothing and jewelry and make sure you’re the most prettiest/handsomest person in the room -you’re his pride and joy and if anyone takes you away. He’ll take away there life -that's not a promise that is fate  

[buoyfriend]

The WoL Catches A Cold *a-choo* - feat. The Ishgard Elf Husbands, G'raha Tia, Ardbert, Hien & Zenos

@eidechsejaspis asked:

Hello again:)

As new season of coughs ans sneezes approaches I have a question of how would Scions (choose any you like), Aymeric and Zenos (where would we go without him?) react on WoL catching serious cold? Time period is at your liking from Heavenward to adventures in Garlemald:)

Thank you in advance:)

It is sniffles season again! Thank you for asking, this was a really fun one to get back into HC writing with!

Aymeric

In moments you think he's not watching, he is. He adores the way you wince when reading an unpleasant part of a book, how you fidget in Alliance meetings, even the little whistle of your snore. Aymeric notices your first sneeze. It's hard to get allergies in Coerthas, and he recognizes the hacking from your lungs a few days later. This comes for everyone sooner or later, and politely asks you to quarantine yourself for a few days.

He isn't one to miss work to care for a sick partner or spouse but has a very attentive nurse stationed nearby

He has given his full itinerary for the next several days so he can be alerted as soon as you wake up from a much needed, multi-day sleep

Aymeric wouldn't argue that he knows cooking well, but he does make a point to assist in the kitchen after work to make sure that you have soup recommended by the best chirugeon available

He will dodge kisses from you for days to avoid becoming sick himself, but it's too late anyways

When Aymeric finds himself bedridden for a few days, he decides that it was worthwhile to give you that forehead kiss as you slept

Estinien

Estinien is familiar with sickness. Long campaigns through the newly snowy Coerthas as a young knight taught him much of seasonal illnesses. He's seen many a friend drink their weight in bitter root soups, gnaw on wild herbs, and the like to push through it until they can get home. He's seen you sick before. Still, he has some lingering anxiety. You looked far worse than a little aetheryte sickness. He's lost much and more, the thought nags at him that more concern might be warranted.

Estinien has his hands full with travel these days and assures you that he will indeed make it to tea with Vritra tomorrow afternoon

He does not make it to tea with Vritra

Estinien deftly slips into the bedroom but there was no need, you had been out cold for hours by then

He would like to keep his friend from waiting, but not until he's sure that your breathing is steady and your temperature not too high

What a sight to see! Had you been awake, you might have heard Estinien's dress shoes pacing along the floor, his hand nearly to his linkpearl while paralyzed by indecision on whether to cancel or not

He cautiously leaves a glass of water and your linkpearl on the bedside table, just in case, though he may never admit that it was he who placed both there

When he does return home, perhaps an hour earlier than expected, he denies all concern as he settles into bed beside you

Haurchefant

While he's not a sadist, Haurchefant absolutely loves the sight of you ill. You're always off somewhere, but for this small bubble of time, you're here. You're sipping hot chocolate and letting him read poetry to you rather than mailing it off to some distant locale. He can watch your tired face grin and sigh rather than imagining it alone from Camp Dragonhead.

His favorite thing to make for you, of course. Hot chocolate, every day you're sick. No matter how hard it is to get chocolate in Coerthas, no matter how many tall tales he must tell to provision it, you wake up to hot chocolate beside your bed every morning.

"You don't need caffeine, anyways, you need something calming and a smile."

He knows he'll get sick if he sleeps next to you every night, but he's forewarned Camp Dragonhead. Emmanellain can hold his seat for a fortnight, it could be good practice for him.

Haurchefant watches you sleep, sliding his hand under the covers to grasp yours. For once, the cuts and bruises all over you are starting to heal. Days off the road, finally given rest. He wishes you both had more days like this.

G'raha Tia

Just as your new adventures together have begun, you fail to keep up. You run a little slower, stopping after a few paces to lean into a cough, heavy sneezes punctuating the blows you attempt to land on monsters. G'raha is quick to notice but slow to bring it up.

He frets, wringing his hands beside you as you ready yourself for the day, struggling to put on your clothes. As you sigh in failure, dropping yourself onto the bed, G'raha can't help himself.

"You can admit you're sick. I know you've been on the road for a long time. Even with the help of your friends, the path you walk is a lonely one. But you're not alone this time. Let yourself rest and let me take care of the other things that come along?"

G'raha fields the many requests sent your way, trying his best to fulfill them, wondering how you do it all at full health.

In quieter moments, he finds his way to The Last Stand to get your favorite dinner, absolutely purring as he watches your sleepy smile. Alas, your sense of smell is back! You knew exactly what he'd brought you as soon as he opened the bag!

He can't help but laugh to himself as you find yourself exhausted from the walk from your bed to the dining table, cracking jokes about his hero losing the greatest battle thus far.

G'raha's excitement knows no bounds when you announce that you're well enough to continue your travels together. The ruddy cheeks, the soft ear wiggle. No sickness can stop his hero for long.

Ardbert

(Assuming Ardbert is no longer a ghost!)

Ardbert is restless. He hasn't seen an open field, a forest, an ocean in days. He wonders if it's unsupportive to ask if you'd mind if he pops out for a fishing trip tomorrow. Perhaps if you're a little better in the morning?

He's not heartless, he left some hot tea beside your bed and made sure your medicines were in reach.

Though he did have some guilt by the third hour of his fishing adventure. The pangs of guilt grew until an idea sprouted from them.

He racked his mind as he navigated the markets. He had enough fish, but the right peppers...which peppers were correct. Tomatoes. Cream. Potatoes. Something was missing, some spice.

Ardbert has made a mess of things. He has put out the kitchen fire, somehow there are no more clean pots and pans. Yet, the soup is complete! It was his mother's recipe, it always had him right as rain after a day or so.

Though you tried your best to hold a straight face, the soup was...I don't know if it's fair to call it a soup. He looks absolutely crushed.

You fall asleep while he strokes your hair, his head pressed against yours as he told you stories. About Kholusia, fishing for cod with his father, his mother's miracle soup. He asks what they made where you're from, but it's too late. You've already drifted off, dreaming about magic fish.

Oddly enough, from a couple of sips of Ardbert's attempted soup, you feel some measure better. He, on the other hand, has the same horrible wheezing cough you had a day before.

Hien

Hien is not the biggest believer in staying bedridden in a sealed room while sick. He frowns, hating to see you suffer, but a thought springs to mind as he twirls your lank, sweaty hair between his fingers.

The clean air of the Azim Steppe is just as promised. During the day, he haggles in the markets for the best Dzo to make stews, the best leaves to make tea. All while you watch the clouds pass from the hammock outside of your yurt.

It's hard to leave the hammock, not only for the comfort. Where else could you see so many stars? Hien points to his favorites, the brightest, the funniest shapes some constellations make.

There wasn't much for entertainment, but watching Hien in the distance sparring with friends was a welcome sight.

After a few days, he encourages you to come with him. On a little walk, at least. Another day, just a little spar. How do you know you're well if you don't test your skills?

The break from all the noise, the responsibilities, becomes intoxicating to you after some time. Hien never has to rush to some meeting, you never need to leave to be flung at a new problem.

You've been better for a week now, finding yourself testing your sharpness with Hien and his friends every morning. Though you may have been hesitant to travel while sick, the time spent together was precious. Perhaps next time you won't have to be sick to convince yourself to take a break.

Zenos

He's seen you weakened before, brought to your knees by your own frailty. It disappoints him and yet, he's fascinated by it in a way he doesn't quite understand. How could someone so pitiful occupy every hour of his day?

Zenos doesn't agree with the chirugeon, you could power through this with sheer force of will and merely shrugs as the medicines are set on the table.

This could not be what ends the object of his obsession, his first friend. He regularly checks that you're still breathing. He leans in too close to hear that your heart is still beating, only to be rewarded by a wheezing cough into his hair.

His size is quite the advantage, it's not a challenge for him to carry you from place to place. He leans low to the ground, scooping you up as the sight of you exhausted from standing up only leaves him with disgust.

Still, when you fall asleep each night, he leans his head to your chest. Your heart still beats, your skin glittering with sweat. He knew he would see you like this on another day, performing the great feats that brought him to you in the first place. Though he never understood your reasons, he knew you'd be back to fighting the mesmerizing fights that led the two of you here. To share a bed, a home, a life.

[shippersoftheseventhdawn]

Ok ^^ could I have thancred zenos G'raha Tia and Y'shtola (poly if possible) with a fem!reader who comes back after a quest with a few cuts and broken bones but trys to play it off but ends up fainting due to the amount of pain she's in? Please and thank you in advance 🤗🤗

Of course!

---

Zenos, G'raha & Y'shtola looking after a badly injured fem!reader

---

Y'shtola doesn't believe that you're actually okay. She's right, and has luckily managed to (lovingly) bully you into sitting down before you passed out.

Zenos immediately wants to go after whatever hurt you. G'raha has to talk him down while Y'shtola starts healing you.

You're more than a little outside the golden healing time, so while Y'shtola can make sure you're not gonna die, she can't really do anything beyond that.

They take turns sitting with you until you wake up.

Zenos forces you to eat once you're awake. He cares and wants you better but all he knows about healing is that you need food for the energy of it.

Zenos also carries you from your bed to wherever you need to be because of your healing bones.

Y'shtola whacks you round the head with a book if she catches you trying to move around unaided.

G'raha works himself into a bit of a frenzy worrying about you and often needs to be soothed before he can see you while you're healing.

G'raha also makes it clear that you're no longer allowed out without a healer. Whether that's him, Y'shtola, or one of your other friends, because he doesn't want to be in this position again.

Zenos ends up making you laugh until it hurts pointing out that you don't need a healer if you just kill whatever you're up against fast enough so clearly all you really need is more training and he will help with that.

Y'shtola rolls her eyes at the boys antics and just asks that you be more careful in the future and kisses your head.

[11queensupreme11]

I love your stories, I can't wait for the next update!

Please don't push yourself to hard and take good care of your health.

Though my choices of literature can be... Questionable? I truly do enjoy the way you write your characters and how you slowly build them.

The theme of "yandere" has always been a difficult one for me.

Is it simply commiting immoral acts for the sake of love? Or is it something deeper than that?

Most yandere stories I stumbled upon has a swift narrative, one chapter the mc meets soon to be Yan character and then next their a yandere that has already fallen to the point of no return.

So, if you don't mind, can you recommend some for me to read?

since you didn't clarify which fandom or if you want original or not, i just put down my favs that i can remember!!

click here for a list of some pjo, alice in borderland, diabolik lovers, and baldur's gate 3 fics

click here for jjk and record of ragnarok fics

pandaemonium (chrollo x oc)

when the desert weeps, my soul cries out to you (sakura x gaara & sasori)

in which many things gang angly (sakura x gaara & sasori)

mother's song (sakura x gaara)

tamed (original)

breaking you (leon kennedy x reader)

insatiable (leon kennedy x reader)

fake it until you make it (sephiroth x reader)

the forest yearns (zenos yae galvus x oc)

the red string of fate (emet-selch x reader)

always mine (noctis x reader; need ao3 login!)

(wish i could find more, but i got too lazy to keep searching 💀)

[smolkatsumi]

school AU [1/?]

tis been a while, my friends! but here I have the varying installments of my school AUs! if you have a request that was submitted, fear not as they are currently in the works! just been busy adjusting to my new schedules, but hoping to release more content before endwalker drops in early december! 

anyway, enough babbling! enjoy part 1!

---

- zenos yae galvus

> undeclared, mostly due to laziness and his want to just be with you

> like he’s doing well in some of his classes, but once you graduate, he’s dropping out and this reason stems from a male interaction you had when you, zenos, and a few others went out to drink

> let’s just say he’s easily made jealous and very protective of you, but you told him to quit it because you can handle it yourself - which he never listens ofc

> if he’s not in class with you sleeping, then he’s out wandering about

> Emet - his cousin - always questions how you got to “tame the beast”, that of which gains him a in his face confrontation

> he used to bully some of your friends, until you told him to bud off and he developed a crush over you, which day by day became more and more obvious when he would pop up to the same place you were

> y’shtola and thancred joked that you had an admirer, after telling them you felt like you were being watch, which was actually the case, when zenos came out and DEMANDED you be his date to the upcoming social

> EXTRA: thancred would not stop cracking up about it whenever your friends asked about why you ended up as zenos’s date

- emet-selch/solus zos galvus

> probably double majors: architecture major (what’s new) and business

> he hangs around the other pompous students, but he’s a closeted softie LOL - well except around you

> gets a lot of flirty glances and has been approached on many occasions by females and sometimes males, but he turned them down politely and if they can't take no for an answer, he’ll whip out his sassiness

> SPOILS YOU and shows it, will use his family’s successfulness to make you happy, like he even got you an internship at the same company he works for/with sugar daddy much?

> dedicated student, but doesn’t need to study much as he is naturally talented

> if you both shared the same classes or major, he will always choose you as his partner or group mate and everyone knows not to fuck with him regarding it

> 11/10 smert man, but popular by default smh

- elidibus

> 100% business major with a minor in law...a weird combination to Emet and the others

> is the club president of the convocation, which is actually a debate club

> quiet man, but EXTREMELY beautiful...its like the whole debate club is full of pretty people and it’s not fAiR

> he’s not too into PDA, but one time Emet decided to be a little bitch and flirtatiously touch you and whisk you away, which pissed off your boyfriend

> he threatened to suspend Emet, who got a kick out of pressing elidibus’s buttons

> he’s kind of a dense dummy, since he doesn’t take other girls advances as advances just them being overly friendly, which cracks you up all the times because if only those girls understood how Elidibus even asked you out

> studious, serious type, but is actually a fat softie on the inside when it comes to you, just like how estinien is with his s/o

- lahabrea

> used to double major, but majors in biology and has a minor in communications

> arrogant ass, but he means well

> brea wants to be recognized by his peers, but he fails and makes a fool of himself, which contributes to his temper

> you can probably find him either in the science lab or in the library, and on some occasions under the big oak tree near the baseball field

> you’re an architecture major, one of Emet’s favorite classmates and best friends, which is how you met lahabrea

> brea is a hot-headed dweeb, but contrary to everyone’s assumptions on him, he SPOILS you and he enjoys doing it, but he’s a closet simp so only you know and well Emet teehee

[agent-cupcake]

Raptus Regaliter

A powerful friend helped me edit this. Fangs to her <3

Pairing:  Zenos yae Galvus x f!Miqo'te WoL Reader

Synopsis: Alternate option for what happens after the cutscenes "The Time Between the Seconds" where you wind up in Imperial custody. Although a more accurate description would be: Zenos beats you up and then fucks you.

Warnings: explicit smut, violence, noncon, blood [lots of blood and violence]

Tags: size difference, choking, forced orgasm

Word Count: 13.1k

Notes: Look I know it's been a long time since I posted but please forgive me I'm giving you Zenos's massive cock as an apology.

There was nothing to make you profoundly regret every single one of your previous decisions like waking up bound, gagged, soaking wet, and with an unreasonably furious headache. Presumably—although you were a bit fuzzy on the details given the whole unconsciousness thing—the latter was from taking the hilt of a sword to the skull. Being wet had come from the bucket of cold water used to shock you awake before your march through what you could only assume was the Imperial-occupied Doma Castle. 

“On your best behavior, savage,” the soldier holding your bound arm growled as he jerked you to an abrupt stop. His voice was twice muffled, once by his helmet and again by the sack pinning your ears flat against your head. In front of you, somebody opened another door.

Handcuffed, woozy, gagged, blind, and stripped of both your armor and your weapons, you had no idea what sort of misbehavior he expected. It was almost more than you could manage to stumble along as he pushed you forward. He released your elbow at the last second, letting you lurch forward and onto your knees. Instinct had your hands flying forward to catch yourself, but the only thing that did was cause the metal cuffs keeping them behind your back to tighten painfully. The smooth, cool marble floor hit hard. Red hot, aching pain radiated from the back of your head all the way down your spine and to your tail, chased upward by the jarring zing of falling onto your knees.

A rough hand on your shoulder jerked you upright and, with an unceremonious whip of canvas, the man pulled the sack off of your head. You squinted into the light, which was blessedly dim, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the sight of the two soldiers. They both wore full sets of armor, devaluing them into nothing more than faceless, nameless instruments of Garlemald. Why they had bothered with the bag in the first place was beyond you, it wasn’t as if you were familiar enough with this place to know your location from just a few halls. Scare tactic? Humiliation? As if being marched through the palace in nothing more than your underclothes wasn’t bad enough. 

“Attempt to escape and your life is forfeit, savage,” the first soldier looming above you said, his hand threateningly resting on his sword. 

“I’d like to see you try,” you said in response, although that’s not what came out around the mouthful of gag. Which was probably for the best. Despite the botched attempt at bravado, you didn’t really mean it. There was a chance you could take them and steal their weapons, but then you’d have to fight your way out of an Imperial infested stronghold without any clue of how to get out wearing nothing other than a tanktop and shorts. 

Rather than respond, both soldiers gave a sharp Imperial salute, looking behind you. 

Oh. 

Knowing, and dreading, what you would find, you hobbled around to look behind yourself. The room wasn’t the torture dungeon you feared, but a lavish space with fine dark marble floor and ornate walls. Details were of little importance, your attention was focused only on the towering figure who stood at the far end with his back to you. Even though he wasn’t wearing his hulking Imperial armor, his size and long blond hair were too distinct for you to mistake him for anyone else.

Zenos. Seeing him triggered a rush of gut-twisting anxiety, fear, and helplessness. It overwrote your discomfort and fatigue entirely. Even shackled and disoriented, you clumsily struggled to get to your feet. Whether you meant to run or to fight, you didn’t know.

“On your knees, savage. You will show respect,” the soldier who had first spoken spat, forcing you back down with an elbow to the stomach and a heavy hand on your shoulder. You hit the floor for a second time with a muffled grunt, your body painfully tense. He cleared his throat, saluting again and raising his voice. “The prisoner, my lord.”

Zenos looked behind himself, giving you a flash of empty blue, before looking away. “Remove her shackles,” he ordered in a bored tone.

“Yes, my lord!” 

The soldier behind you crouched down, pulling out a key. “Try anything,” he warned softly, “and you’ll regret it.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine the glare that accompanied the threat. And if it were just the two of them, you might have been formulating a plan of attack for the second you were freed. Surely you could take them. The real trouble stood at the other end of the room. So you swallowed your pride and nodded to show you understood. He unlocked the handcuffs, freeing your hands to pull the gag out of your mouth and toss it aside. Harsh red lines circled your wrists where the metal had cut deep indents into them. 

“I will speak to the prisoner alone,” Zenos said, his back still turned. “See that we are not disturbed.” 

With two more crisp salutes and cries of, “Yes, my lord,” the soldiers fled, sliding the door shut behind themselves.  

As soon as the door was shut, you got to your feet. Zenos remained silent. Utterly motionless, his back to you. The casual dismissiveness was likely meant to flaunt his power, but you were glad for the chance to collect yourself in peace. He couldn’t see you wince as you straightened out and took stock of your body. Everything hurt, at least a little, but your head was the worst of it. 

As the silence dragged on, you waited for Zenos to say something. He didn’t. 

A fear tactic? A test?

Trying not to let it get to you, you focused on your surroundings. The room must have been for religious ceremonies at one point. You were pretty sure the far wall that Zenos was so distracted by, painted and decorated with symbols and iconography of the Doman kami, was a shrine. There were shelves for incense and to hang prayers, although that was all gone. Whatever furniture that might have once given the room comfort had also been removed, leaving it hollow and cold. 

More importantly, the room lacked windows, leaving you unable to guess the time. It made you sick to think that you had been unconscious for very long. Your friends had to have been worried. Or, worse, they hadn’t gotten away. It was all so stupid. You shouldn’t have gone along with Yugiri in the first place, you should have done everything you could to stop her from the suicide mission. Your memories were cloudy and chaotic, but you recalled the fight, and Zenos’s missive, and the rescue. Everything would have been fine, but one of the Imperial soldiers had gone for Yugiri before Gosetsu got to her. You acted thoughtlessly, recklessly. All you got for your so-called heroism was the hilt of a sword to the head. 

Smoothing your hands over your wet hair, and shaking out your ears, you considered how to play this. 

Attacking was out. The room was empty, nothing for you to use as an improvised weapon. There was no way you would be able to win against Zenos in these conditions. Your captors had given you water when you woke up, but it had been at least twelve hours since you’d eaten and your only sleep had been from getting knocked out. It didn’t put you at a disadvantage entirely, but that was only if you were going against normal opponents. Running wasn’t much better. If Zenos had a mind to chase you, you knew firsthand how absurdly fast he could move. 

That meant talking, didn’t it? Or trying to. If you were worth keeping alive and he requested you directly, that meant something. What had Zenos told you the night before? Whatever was meant by the time between the seconds was beyond you, but you understood his command to live. His odd display of sentiment seemed like leverage you could use, if only you knew how.  

If only. 

If Alphinaud were here, he would already have made his opening gambit to argue his way out of this. Estinien would be able to rely on his brute strength and talent to get out of here. Even Thancred would have already rattled off some sarcastic comment or joke to establish his confidence in a situation like this. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, which approach suited you best. As the silence dragged on, however, you began to think that maybe saying nothing was worse.

“What magnificent creatures could have been given life by the prayers left at this altar, I wonder,” Zenos said, his voice quiet enough that you could barely hear him. “So much power, all wasted.” He sighed. Before you could respond, although you weren’t entirely sure he was talking to you, Zenos turned his head to address you directly. “I am disappointed in you.”

He turned in full, giving you a clear look at him without his helmet or the haze of rain. 

So young. And with his long blond hair, kohl-lined baby blues, and angular features, Zenos possessed a disquieting sort of beauty, almost feminine in harsh contrast with his towering frame and the danger that rolled off of him in nearly tangible waves. While it was true that he was less bulky without the Imperial armor, the slightly more casual—assuming you could call a military coat worn on top of his shoulders like a cape with the sleeves hanging limp behind him casual—outfit only accentuated his figure. For several reasons, you weren’t sure that was a good thing. 

“What?” you asked.

“I allowed you to go free, and yet you attacked like an ill-mannered dog the moment I turned my back, spitting upon the gift of my generosity,” he said. “Had you accepted the opportunity I so graciously offered, you would not be here.” 

You opened your mouth to object before thinking better of it, clenching your fists to ground yourself so you could speak in a more measured tone. “I had no choice.” 

Zenos didn’t visibly react to your answer, considering it with the same cool inscrutability. “You had a choice. You chose incorrectly. But if you are to be here regardless, I see no reason to deny my,” he paused, pulling in a breath through his teeth as he gave you a decidedly uncomfortable once over, “interest in you, hero.”

More aware than ever of your state of undress, nervous flutters battered the inside of your stomach, some intoxicating combination of fear and anticipation. Animal instinct told you to turn around and run no matter the cost, it screamed and scrambled in its panic to get away from him. Twice now he had beat you half to death, and that was while you were armed and rested. But there was another instinct that desperately longed to charge headfirst into the danger, to ease your discomfort through the traditional method. That is, with your fists.

“Did Yugiri… did everybody else escape?” you asked.

Zenos remained silent, his expression giving nothing away. His eyes were really blue. Soft, beautiful blue. And entirely, utterly empty. 

Setting your shoulders, you forced yourself to hold eye contact, to prove that you weren’t afraid. “How long have I been here?” 

More silence, broken only by the sound of Zenos’s footsteps as he began to approach you, walking in an arc rather than directly towards you. Circling like a wolf. All the while, his eyes didn’t waver. Even from across the room, he was physically imposing. 

“Why did you summon me?” you pushed, a hint of desperation in your voice. Fear. You adjusted your stance in an attempt to orient yourself a little better. There really was no comfortable way to stand when you were so underdressed, no way to hide how vulnerable you felt. 

He wasn’t going to answer. That wasn’t how this worked. Zenos yae Galvus wasn’t the type of man who was content to simply talk things out. 

“You want information, right? About the rebellion,” you said, forcing yourself to sound strong. “Well it’s a waste of your time, I won’t tell you anything.” 

At first, you thought he was going to ignore you again. 

“There’s no need for that,” Zenos finally responded, taking another step. His expression remained completely impassive. It gave you the eerie sensation that, even without the helmet, he was still masked. “I do not concern myself with the petty antics of dead men. The savages of this desolate nation will continue to eat their own. I will not interfere unless she fails once more.” 

You took a half step back, pursing your lips as you tried to glean some deeper understanding from his words. “So what do you want from me?” you asked. 

“I mean to quit this wretched place. You will entertain me until my ship arrives.” 

Your stomach flipped nervously, but you ignored the feeling, focusing on the far more pressing matter. “And after that?” 

“I seek a greater prize elsewhere.” 

That wasn’t what you asked, but that meant he intended to leave. Your ears perked up with the slightest bit of hope. “So you’ll let me go?” 

That question sparked some emotion in Zenos’s empty eyes, they met yours with more focus. Curiosity, maybe. “I will not raise a hand to detain you any further, whether or not that means escape is your choice.” 

“Swear it?” 

Zenos didn’t respond, his gaze lowering until you realized it was following the nervous movements of your tail as it twitched back and forth. You froze, forcing it to straighten out with a bitter thought about every time you had been told to get better control over your ears and tail, how easily they betrayed your emotions. That wasn’t normally a problem. 

“How surprising it was to learn that the hero of the savages would be one like you. More beast than woman. Even among the savages, yours is a lowly lot. Feral poachers, whores, and societal outcasts who lack discipline—nay, lack humanity.”

It took extra effort to keep your tail from flicking, but you held your shoulders up and your tail in place, refusing to be ruffled by his insult. Lots of people had echoed similar sentiments, unable to think that a runt Keeper could be any sort of hero. Besides, it was almost flattering that Zenos would bother knowing enough about Miqo’te to insult you in the first place.

Very, very flattering. 

“People tell a lot of stories about your humanity too,” you said in what you hoped was a casual enough tone, even managing a smile. “Good thing we know better, right?” 

Figuring out what he thought about your attempt to catch him off guard was impossible, Zenos’s expression didn’t change. It didn’t seem to anger him. So that was good. Or bad. 

“Well then, my fellow beast, tell me,” he said, “why do you hold yourself back when we fight? I have been told of your exploits, of how you pitilessly slay your enemies without discrimination. And yet, I haven’t had the privilege to face the great warrior who has fought eikons and fell dragons. You are distracted. Reactive. Unfit for a proper fight. What will it take, I wonder, for you to bring your full might and mastery to bear?” 

You frowned before catching yourself, trying to keep your expression composed. As if you didn’t already feel weak and impotent. Even most of your allies weren’t aware of the extent to which the business with the dragons had drained you. Your strength was coming back, but not nearly to where you were before. Every time you thought you were ready to really, truly rejoin the fray, you found yourself lacking. You wanted to think it didn’t bother you but right then, disarmed and weakened and having to crane your neck to look up at the tyrannical horror known as Zenos yae Galvus with the memory of your defeat painfully fresh, it bothered you a lot. 

But you couldn’t let him know that. 

“I can only conclude that I’ve yet to do enough to properly stoke the flames of your outrage,” Zenos said when you didn’t respond. “How fortuitous that your foolish aspirations and my duty conflict so spectacularly. I will steal from you those you wish to protect, raze the land you so pitifully try to defend, and extinguish the flame of rebellion you have lit for the misguided malcontents who think to defy Imperial rule.” With each promise, his voice raised from its calculated drawl with excited fervor. “Such is my mission—as per His Radiance’s wishes. Then, when you are ready to bring your all, you will come to me as a creature driven only by righteous vengeance and unadulterated fury.” 

Zenos exhaled shakily, closing his eyes momentarily as if to calm himself. When they reopened, you were overcome with a fresh flood of icy cold dread. He didn’t look as crazy as his words indicated. There was a very measured sincere sanity to what he told you. That was more frightening than his cruelty, somehow.

“And if I refuse?” you asked. “I’m not the only one with a score to settle.” 

“You are the only one who is worthy,” Zenos told you. “We stand at the precipice of a new era of power. Those who lack the resolve to ascend are but ants beneath my boot. You would feel the same—were you not bound by the manacles of duty.”

A prince lecturing you about the confining nature of duty. It would be funny if you weren’t so uncomfortable. 

“But enough of this talk,” Zenos continued, his voice raising. “Entertain me. Show me the beast whose fury accomplished what so few else have, who bared her fangs when most would consider themselves beaten.”

“What?” you asked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Did he mean for you to attack him? “No, I don’t-” The fist buried in your stomach cut off whatever righteously indignant denial you intended, replacing it with a viscerally low grunt. Zenos held you in place by your shoulder, keeping you from flying away with the force of his attack. Keeping you curled around his arm, unable to even remember how to breathe, your entire body only existing in a state of breathless pain.

“Then I shall draw her out myself,” he said, his low words tinny and distant. 

Zenos pulled his arm back, letting you crumple. You tried to stay on your knees, to maintain a shred of dignity, but you had barely hit the ground before you collapsed sideways. His heavy boot landed on your side, keeping you from getting up. Despite his already unreasonable height advantage over most people, his boots were heeled. Such a cruel, gratuitous choice struck you as almost tragically unfair. The edge of the heel dug into the soft flesh right above your hip, his foot long enough that his toe could put pressure on your ribs. Pressing down just enough to make you squirm, Zenos rocked you back and forth, forcing you to pay attention. If he stepped down with all of his weight, he would crush your insides into nothing more than a sticky mush. Wheezing in pain, you squinted up at him with streaming eyes. From here, he looked half eikon himself. A monstrously tall, malicious being of pure intent. 

“I find torture to be tedious. There is, I allow, some artistry in it, but very little sport,” Zenos said. “To endure the mewling and whining of the weak and defeated is… grating.” 

He kicked you, catching your ribs at a bad angle and sending you rolling away. The world exploded anew, condensed down to nothing more than the agony of where his boot struck. But you recognized, on some level, that he was holding back. He wasn’t trying to break you. More than that, you were durable. That attack might have grievously injured some people, but you were harder to break. Good at taking a beating, you knew that long before you ever took up a weapon, back when the bigger kids would break their hands hitting you before you would give up. Some people had a pretty singing voice or could paint nice pictures, you could survive all manner of fatal beatings. 

Focus on breathing, you reminded yourself. In, and out. Focus on the rapid, thunderous beat of your heart, on the blood pumping through your veins. 

Endure. You could endure this.

“However, I must acknowledge that it has its uses,” Zenos continued. “Pain is a tool, and one that serves me quite well on occasion. After all, it is unjust, is it not? To be subjected to pain and humiliation for no reason other than the pleasure of another—how easily it draws out the truest nature of man, stripping away the unimportant trivialities they cling to in favor of something worthwhile. Stimulating, even beautiful. But it is a delicate thing. Too much, and the prey loses their will to fight. Too little, and they feel no need to retaliate.” 

Gritting your teeth, you got your arms beneath yourself. When he hit you, you’d accidentally bitten down on the soft flesh on the inside of your cheek. You had to spit out a mouthful of blood onto the pristine marble floor, coughing lightly to clear your lungs before wiping your mouth with a shaking hand. Holding back a grimace, you got to your knees, watching Zenos to ensure he didn’t rush you as you unsteadily stood up. 

“I understand you are not inspired by selfish gain—such is the insipid conceit of the dutiful. But now I have seen your potential to rise above your mundane calling. Your facade has slipped, hero. Be it today or another, I mean to strip you of it entirely.” 

His words rolled over you like water, a counter beat to the pounding of your heart, the roar of blood in your ears. You could feel the way energy coursed through your veins, easing all of your petty pains as you considered your next move. This wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t exactly torture either, the expression Zenos wore was too animated, his words shockingly friendly when compared to the way he had spoken to you previously. This meant something else to him.

Finally, you met his eyes, your stomach clenching unpleasantly at the sight. While you had been trying to sort out your thoughts, Zenos had been watching you intently. As predator, as appraiser, and opponent. What was he thinking when he stared at you so intently? You couldn’t even begin to guess. On the one hand, he seemed to be nothing more than a force of evil. On the other, you got the impression that the enjoyment he derived from this was pure. 

“I am surprised you have stayed your hand thus far,” Zenos said. “Is it wisdom? Weakness?”

“Give me a sword and find out.” 

Part of you expected anger, or annoyance. Instead, Zenos smiled. Although the expression mimicked the joy of any other person, his eyes narrowing and lips curling with amusement, it was wrong. Unsettling.  

When he came at you, you were prepared, dodging to the side with the intention to get your back away from the wall. Zenos pivoted to cut you off, his white coat flaring like wings behind him. A hard kick to your shin sent you careening forward. Zenos grabbed you by a fistful of your loose hair, dragging you towards him as you fell. Gravity did the rest, driving his raised knee into your stomach. 

Air burst out of your lungs like bellows, your body going limp. As if you were nothing more than a ragdoll, Zenos raised his leg higher to push you back upward. You saw his fist coming at the last second, reactively dodging and causing it to glance off of your cheekbone. In some ways, your lack of height was beneficial. The awkward angle of his punch pushed you further up, momentum sending you a few fulms back before collapsing onto your ass. Your tailbone connected hard with the floor, sharp pain zipping up your torso. 

Without hesitation, you lurched onto your feet, no longer concerned with self preservation so much as answering the call of bucketfuls of energy dumping into your veins.

“A pitiful start,” Zenos remarked, his tone returning to that bored drawl.

He attacked again, moving way too fast for somebody so huge. Your dodge was messy, you stumbled over his outstretched foot and presented an easy opening for him to take advantage of. Your hip first, aligned as it was with his knee. Something cracked, you had no idea if it was the complaining of metal or bone. Then your chest, his forearm striking like an iron bar right beneath your collarbones. The coup de grâce was a hard punch directly to your kidney. 

The world blurred and blackened as furious, blinding agony engulfed you entirely. Exquisite in its malice, pain was all that could possibly exist in that moment. 

There was no thought when you were overcome so completely by your need to get away, driven by the primal instinct of an animal. Tanking another punch to the ribs, you grabbed his arm, the one he was holding you with, pulling at it like a bar. Zenos couldn’t shake you off fast enough, not before you could bite on the first available patch of vulnerability you could find. Right above where the leather of his glove ended and below the elbow. Gods bless his lack of armor, you could feel your sharp canines pierce the fabric of his shirt, digging right into his skin. 

He swatted you away with a head turning backhand, sending you back until you slammed against the wall. At the very least, it kept you from falling again, giving you something to steady yourself against. Quickened by the fresh burst of energy gifted through pain, you quickly assessed your wounds. No broken bones. Probably no internal damage. Your face was the most distracting of the pain, his backhand had reduced the entire cheek to an unmanageable blaze of feverish skin.

Opening your streaming eyes and blinking your vision clear, you realized that your bite must have caught a vein in his arm, bringing along a spray of blood when he shook you off. Scarlet droplets stained the ornate white collar of his coat, soaking into the light colored fabric of your clothes. Even though you were unable to catch your breath and liable to collapse from the pain at any minute, you felt a pang of victory. When was the last time anybody had drawn his blood? 

Zenos looked confused, almost. That passed quickly, his eyes focused on you with a predatory gleam. “Well, well.” He shrugged the coat from his shoulders without a thought given to how expensive the garment must have been. “More beast than woman indeed. Mayhap you should be muzzled.” 

The stomp of his boot on the floor was all the warning you got, but you were able to spin out of his reach when he lunged at you, ducking beneath his sweeping fist.  

“Better,” he remarked, following it up with a low swipe of his left arm and then a direct right. “But it won’t be enough.” Ignoring the taunt, you dodged his next cluster of attacks by a hair's breadth, the air tickling your sweaty skin. Zenos didn’t continue to rush you like you expected, straightening out and turning as you circled him. 

He was baiting you into attacking. You knew that because, if you were the one with the upper hand, you would have done the same.

Realizing you weren’t going to take initiative, Zenos came at you again. This time, you were given no reprieve from his flurry of punches. Most of them were feints. Testing you? Teasing you? No. Tiring you out. You tried to step backward to catch your breath, but you didn’t move fast enough. He grabbed your arm before you were out of reach, wrenching you back towards him. 

With a grotesque pop, your shoulder gave out. You ignored it, knowing the sort of sick trick he was about to pull, and forced yourself to orient to the change of momentum. Following it, you jumped. Your bare foot connected satisfyingly with his unarmored hip. Your other foot connected with his stomach, meeting the resistance of some type of protective shirt. You used that leverage to get away, twisting your arm out of his loosened grip. Pain lanced down that arm all the way down to your knuckles, the shoulder screaming in protest. As far as aerials went, it was horribly awkward in the limited space, and you barely managed to stick the landing. But it got you out of his reach. 

“Clever girl,” Zenos praised you. He didn’t approach you again, merely watching you with that same disquieting smile. The lanterns on the far wall lit the gold of his hair into a halo, the rapturous depictions of kami rearing up behind him. “You enjoy this as much as I do.”

Panting and dizzy, you met his gaze, too immersed to feel shame. Unlike base predators that took eye contact as a sign of aggression, Zenos seemed to invite your attention. There was a sense of lucidity to him now, contrasting with your hazy thoughts. In your blurry emerald limbo, there existed only the absolute and physical. Pain and exertion and living and yourself and your opponent. The racing of your heart and the flow of blood through your veins, the taste of it in your throat and on your tongue. 

“Oh yes,” he continued, his voice lowering. “That look in your eye belies the ideals you so fervently espouse.” 

Either his tone or the words themselves—something about what Zenos said affected you in a way you would never admit in any realm outside of the fog of senseless frenzy. You could still taste his blood, feel the bruises he’d printed around your arm when he grabbed you. He was right in some ways. You wanted to fight him, to win. Not for any grand cause or because of the evil he had committed, but because you were compelled by the heat of the moment, by your own desire. 

But you couldn’t. This was for his entertainment. His enjoyment. Zenos spoke as if there was some deeper meaning to this, but that was all talk. Words to lend virtue to violence. 

You knew all about that. 

Instinct kept you from breaking stance when Zenos rushed you again. Feet apart, knees bent, ready to move, to dodge. That was all you could do. Avoid his attacks until you couldn’t anymore. There was no running, no fighting. With its shoulder out of place, your left arm was borderline useless.

And it worked, for a time. Zenos attacked and you dodged, the two of you were practically dancing together. And it was, in a way, invigorating. You saw the same feeling on his face. 

The moment of perfect invulnerability ended too soon. You misjudged where his fist was aimed and overcorrected, giving him an opening to clip the back of your heel with the hard edge of his boot. The tendon gave out and, yelping, you toppled forward. Rather than letting you fall where you were, Zenos grabbed you by the back of the neck. 

“Caught you,” he teased. You struggled violently, freeing yourself and whirling around to hit him with your uninjured arm, moving right into place for his other fist to connect with your face. Blood exploded from your nose. You didn’t even feel it at first, just the overwhelming sense of disbelieving shock. 

Grabbing your arm, Zenos tossed you into the center of the room, throwing you around like you were nothing. To him, you probably were. 

You fell with a soundless, breathless cry, rolling to try and mitigate further damage before coming to a stop, dizzy and aching. All you could taste was blood, it was still gushing from your nose, painting the front of your sweaty undershirt in bright red. 

“Again,” Zenos demanded, excited. 

Panting hard, you tried to get to your feet, watching him with watering eyes. But the tendon he’d kicked gave out, pain incapacitating that entire leg when you put pressure on it. 

“Is that it?” he mocked. With loud footsteps, he approached you slowly, as if to give you time to escape, but it was setting in finally that you were helpless. In every sense. 

Yellow light had warmed the greens and reds of the room into a sort of unreality, your tear-glazed vision fading on the edges and sharpening in the center, your entire existence heightening to a pinpoint of the moment. Fear cast a dark shadow, but the absurdity and oversaturation of dramatics gave you a measure of recklessness, a retreat from your fear and anger. 

“On your feet, hero.” 

“Why?” you asked, your voice muffled by your bloody nose. It didn’t feel broken, at least. Zenos wasn’t trying to seriously hurt you, this was all just a game. A diversion. Biting your tongue to keep from making any noise, you took the opportunity to push your shoulder back into place. Nausea flooded through your stomach at the pain, but you choked it down. You would be fine. 

“Why indeed,” he said softly. “You enjoy this too, do you not?” 

You breathed out shakily, blood running into your mouth. The mental barrier that accounted for things like safety and morality was all but disintegrated by adrenaline and exhaustion.

“So stand,” Zenos insisted, his voice threateningly soft. He spoke so low, you could practically feel his voice. “Now.” 

It didn’t matter one way or the other. Every choice he had offered was a falsehood, a chance for him to observe your reaction. Zenos wasn’t playing the role of predator or prey, he was taking on the role of ethologist. He wanted you to react, to struggle and fight and feed into his lust for violence. 

“No,” you said, looking up at him with your jaw set in place. It wasn’t exactly the strong rejection you were aiming for, stuffed up by the blood that was finally slowing down. Everything was painted with the stuff, soon to become sticky and rusty. All the same, you felt a rush of pleasure at saying it, at denying him something he explicitly asked for. “Do what you will, I-I don’t care. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last, so wha-whatever you expect to get from this… It’s pointless. Compared to what I’ve faced… the horrors in this world… you’re… you’re insignificant.” 

Zenos’s eyes narrowed and you met them with a raised chin. Part of that was because of the bloody nose, but most of it was out of stubborn defiance. The idea that you had gotten under his skin, even a little, filled you with hot satisfaction, almost enough to cancel out the pain.  

And you expected retribution, maybe a part of you hoped for it. But instead of stooping down or kicking you or anything else that you expected, his arm swept forward so he could grab a handful of your loose hair, dragging you back up onto your knees. It hurt, of course it hurt, but the pain shot down right down your spine, and your verbal response, what should have been a cry of pain, was a loud moan. 

Zenos froze. You did too, not even trying to escape the hand threaded into your hair. The silence physically pressed into you, broken only by your harsh breathing as you waited for him to say something. Part of you hoped he hadn’t heard it, or that he’d misinterpret the sound. It wasn’t your fault, it was a mixture of everything and you couldn’t help it, it had nothing to do with him, of course it didn’t. Just that the intensity and the helplessness and the way reality had dulled while your senses sharpened so acutely had worn away at your reasonable, rational mind, passion becoming indistinguishable. 

Excuses. The frailty of youthful weakness had warped you, playing adventurer hero now didn’t change anything. 

“Is this why you behave with such insolence?” Zenos asked softly.

A new type of fear and humiliation gripped your insides, keeping you silent. Instead, you thought to pry at his hand, trying to make him let go. But another sharp tug made you whimper, and you stopped. 

“How very… unexpected.” Zenos dropped your hair and you immediately tried to escape, your sweaty, bloody palms slapping on the stone floor as you tried to lurch onto your feet.

What you didn’t expect, really truly genuinely didn’t expect, was to feel his hand close around your neck before you could make it even a step past him, pushing you until you hit the wall and up. Up until your feet were off the ground, up until your panicked eyes could directly meet his, up until he could stand close enough that you felt the heat of his body. Paint scratched your bare shoulders, reminding you of where you were: crushed helplessly between a shrine for somebody else’s gods and the man who would see them all destroyed. 

Mad with panic, you grabbed onto his arm to keep from suffocating entirely, bracing yourself between him and the wall to relieve some of the pressure on your throat, your feet—raised at least two fulms off of the floor—kicking ineffectually. They would have an easier time knocking a hole in the wall than managing to hurt Zenos in any meaningful way. You lashed out with your free hand as well, hitting his chest, his arm. When you tried to claw at his exposed face, Zenos just raised his chin to keep it out of your limited reach. When you went for his hair,  his hand tightened enough that the world blinked dark, his other hand pressing against your sore hip. Before you could pass out, he let up slightly. You choked, gasping, twitching pitifully. 

“Is this all it takes to incapacitate you, hero?” Zenos mocked. “You have faced worse, have you not?” 

Already the world seemed to be closing in, getting darker. You had wasted too much energy panicking. Although even if you hadn’t, you probably would have had an easier time moving mountains than prying Zenos’s hand from your neck. 

He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering and eyes burning into yours. “How pathetic.” 

Your reaction to the insult, the one you did your utmost to hide from him, must have come through in some capacity. And he had to have been watching and waiting for it, because Zenos’s smile deepened to a truly devious expression. 

“I should have known that you would have… unnatural tastes.”

Your face screwed up in disgust and you tried, with waning strength, to pry his fingers off of your neck. It was pointless. His body was blazing heat and impossibly solid, his face close enough that you could see the color in his cheeks, the inky dark brush of his eyelashes over sweet baby blue each time he blinked. 

Even that, your entire world, slowly darkened, all of your pitiful choking noises cutting off. 

“Don’t swoon,” he said irritably, like it was your own fault. But he did step forward so you could hold onto him. Pride demanded you refuse the offer, but survival won out. You clung to Zenos, easing the pressure off of your neck. The cruelty wasn’t lost on you, even in your frazzled state. He did nothing to help support you other than the hand around your neck. It forced you into dependency, your bare thighs chafing uncomfortably against his armored waist and your arms clinging to his broad shoulders, but it was still better than passing out.  

Zenos watched with empty eyes while you, once again, tried to catch your breath. It was difficult, you were overly aware of the weight of his gaze. And the position wasn’t intimate in any sane way. It would be as easy as breathing for him to snap your neck, and you doubted anybody would label the look he gave you as lustful, but your body reacted to his proximity all the same. Not as a combatant, but as a woman. The hot, confused, nervous weight of being so near him scared you more than any threat of violence. It was a sickening sensation, blurring the pain with the onslaught of energy that had kept you going thus far. And it wasn’t your fault. Your passions so rarely had the opportunity to get twisted in this way when you were fighting monsters and eikons and crazy old men. Monsters had no right to be attractive, your brain lacked the wisdom to filter danger from lust, or violence from passion.  

“Put me down,” you demanded, your voice hoarse.

“I am not loath to indulge you in such a way,” Zenos said, speaking as if he hadn’t heard you. “While you are too small for my taste, you are not entirely without appeal. You will not be easily broken either.” 

You shook your head in panic, your stomach twisting into knots. Even as you choked on the smell and taste of blood, you could smell him too. It must have been his hair, amber clove and vanilla. “I-I don’t know what you think you’re-”

“And to claim the hero of the savages for myself,” he continued, cutting you off with amusement breaking through his tone. “It is not an unpleasant thought. 

“No,” you told him emphatically, injecting every bit of strength and acid you could into the word.  

“No?” Zenos repeated in a deadly soft voice, his head tilting as he considered your rejection. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Did you not grant me permission to do as I wished?”  

You gasped harshly when his hand dropped between your legs, almost glad for the way his other hand restricted your ability to make any louder noise as his fingers pressed right between your thighs. Everything, even breathing, hurt your battered and exhausted body—assuming you could get a proper breath with his grip cutting off your airway—but that pain only made things worse, made you more sensitized. With nothing more than the thin pair of shorts and even thinner panties, you knew he could feel the heat. 

“If this is, as you say, insignificant, why should you reject me?” Zenos asked.

The use of your own words against you was like a slap in the face. They had been spoken in a moment of contrary bravado, but you realized now how stupid they had been. 

“Stop it,” you demanded in a crushed voice, fixing him with what you hoped was a properly angry glare. When you squirmed to escape, all it did was grind you against his hand. 

“Have you shared your body with another before?” His fingers curled, pressing a little harder against your clothed pussy. By the Twelve, his hand was nearly double the size of yours. 

“Stop!” 

Without any other warning, Zenos pulled his hand away so he could shove it past the waistband of your shorts and panties. They weren’t meant to stretch that much, the fabric complaining against the stress. But you weren’t as concerned with that as you were with the shock of one of his fingers dipping inward, slipping between your outer lips. His calloused fingertip searched for a moment, drawn inward by smooth, slick flesh to your entrance. You hissed sharply, your thighs clenching around his waist.  

“As I thought. You’re dripping for me, my beast.” While passion burned in his low voice, Zenos didn’t look pleased with the revelation. You couldn’t tell what he felt, or thought, only that you didn’t like it. “For the pain I’ve given you, the thrilling rush of violence we’ve enjoyed together. In this, we are of the same mind.” 

“We’re not!” you insisted breathlessly. To punctuate the rejection, your body bucked clumsily, a desperate bid to displace his hand, senseless panic about what was happening well and truly setting in. It was predictably ineffectual. Without any other options, you pushed against his shoulders to move further up the wall, to get away from his touch. His hand just followed you, that finger drawing forward to press against your clit. A shiver ran through your body, fizzling out in your head. “Ss-stop this. You’re-you’re disgusting.”

“Finally!” Zenos exclaimed, his voice raising with manic glee. “That is the look I crave. I wonder, hero, will you hate me for exposing your true nature, or will you finally admit to what you are?”

Not waiting for an answer, he pulled his hand away so he could push your shorts and underwear down. The fabric strained loudly, painfully taut between your thighs and stopped by the obstruction of his body. But it was enough to make space for his hand. You tried to fight him, pulling at his arm desperately, but your attempts were pointless, Zenos just squeezed your throat a little tighter. Not enough to cut off your air completely, but enough to make you gasp and wheeze, enough to make you unable to anything as he pressed two fingers against the fluttering muscles of your entrance. You glared at him through squinted, teary eyes, giving up on the hand around your neck to pry at the one between your legs. 

Zenos smiled. “Hate, then. Very well.” 

With that, he drove two fingers into your pussy. They were big, and two was more than you could have been prepared for. But you were wet, and even if it hurt, he was easily able to work them in deep, his callouses scraping against your sensitive inner walls. You choked, a pained hiss leaving from between your teeth. 

“Not a virgin then,” he said. “A pity. ” 

When Zenos pulled his fingers out, you could feel the way your cunt worked around them as if trying to suck him back in despite the discomfort. Your hips twitched forward in a suggestive way. A little sound left your mouth when his fingers curled slightly, a sound that you didn’t want to think was pleasure but certainly wasn’t pain or discomfort. 

“Mm. Consider yourself lucky, beast. I don’t often waste my time pandering to the whims of others, but I want you to remember this well. Your lust, your fear, your pain, your rage—I will have it all. I will take from you what no one else has.”

You shook your head, but, all too easily, your body turned against you. He thrust his fingers back in with a sloppy sound and you choked out a moan, your pussy squeezing his fingers as they pulled out. 

Sickened by your response, by his words, you lashed out again. Zenos wasn’t expecting it this time, and you caught his cheek with your nails. Four shallow red lines marked his flawless ivory cheekbone, cut short when he used his grip on your neck to pull you forward and slam you hard against the wall, painfully knocking your head against it as he began to fingerfuck you in earnest.

Something cracked upon impact and, in the dizzy lurch of agony sweeping red hot behind your eyes, you thought for sure that you had just broken your skull. 

But even the pain wasn’t enough of a distraction to let you ignore the fingers buried deep in your cunt. Zenos was cruel, pushing them deep enough that you could feel the leather of his fingerless glove each time. A helpless, nearly inaudible noise left your mouth.

Zenos exhaled sharply through his nose, although that was the only indication you got that he was affected by any of this. Rougher now, while you were still trying to get over the agonizing throbbing starting at the back of your head and working all the way down your body. Already he was setting a too-fast pace that had you rocking up and down against the wall, held in place by his hand and the grip you had on his shoulders. When you braved to look at him through wet eyelashes, the emptiness of his eyes struck you anew. Excitement, sure. Maybe even a sort of hunger. But not enjoyment or engagement. Not ‘need’ in the lustful sense. 

“There is something… curious about lust born not of desire, but of violence. How similar the two can be, yet how different,” Zenos mused, unconcerned with the turmoil in your head, unconcerned with the act itself. You gasped and jerked and twitched with every thrust, but he wasn’t affected. 

If murdering innocents wasn’t enough to get his heart rate up, chokeslamming you to the wall and fingerfucking you wasn’t likely to either. That bitter thought didn’t do much to curb your body’s reaction. Every pass was better than the last, his long fingers scratching an itch within you that you simply couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried. His other hand squeezed your windpipe ever so slightly at random intervals, keeping you from being able to breathe, to form a coherent thought. It kept you sensitized, entreated by each intoxicating rush of oxygen. 

“I myself am not immune to its effects, but… that is agreeable to you, beast, is it not?”

There wasn’t much within you left to focus on Zenos’s words. All you could think was that you were going to come if he didn’t stop. He kept curling his fingers as he pulled them out, dragging his calloused fingertips—intentionally or not—against your g-spot. Not to mention how deep he could go. It was literal fingerfucking. You knew you were dripping past his knuckles and probably onto the leather of his glove. There was no resistance against his fingers, nothing to keep him from being rough, to twist and scissor them in a way that made your legs kick and back arch. 

Foul. It was all foul, and Zenos enjoyed watching your conflict. If not with lust, then with great interest. You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face as far from him as you could given the hand around your throat. You wouldn’t come. You didn’t enjoy this. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Eyes on me, beast,” Zenos said, his hand squeezing your throat and fingers thrusting into you sharply, mercilessly adding a third. It made you squeal, a sound you couldn’t remember having made before. “Are you listening, hero? I will not repeat myself. You will look me in the eye while you come on my hand.”

You meant to object, but all you got out was a whine. The sound was choked and pathetic and obscene, adding to the obscene, sloppy noises created by each thrust of his fingers. Nobody would believe you were unwilling, not when you were so wet, not when your pussy clamped down around his fingers at the dark threat, and not when you were squirming like a woman possessed. Air had become a privilege and all you could taste was blood and you were sore in a dozen different places and none of that mattered.

Soundlessly begging with bloody lips, you did what Zenos said and met his eyes, feeling the inevitable twist and blaze of pleasure in your core as your body tightened. It looked like he knew, his eyes widening in excitement and body crushing you to the wall a little harder, his fingers setting a faster pace. Most men wouldn’t be able to maintain such a savage pace. Then again, you doubted most women would be able to find pleasure in such brutality. It was violent and painful and miserably cruel and every time his fingers moved you saw stars. 

“Come now, beast. I don’t have all day.” 

Zenos’s voice was low, intimate. You felt it more than you heard it, the sound going right to your pussy. That was all it took. Burning with self hatred and disgust and a bestial sort of lust that bordered delirium, you shuddered apart, pleasure rolling through you and easing every ache, every discomfort, even dread was dulled by the overwhelming sensation. Cruel eyes watched you get off to his abuse, you met Zenos’s gaze as you relented to the pleasure of his violence. Blue, cool and empty and absolute, ravaged your mind. 

All too quickly, it was over, and you were back in the miserable heat and disgust of the situation. Trembling and feeling the creeping nausea return, you told him to stop in a broken voice, wincing as your body began to painfully reject the overstimulation. Zenos did, and you almost didn’t like that either because when he pulled his fingers out of you, he did so slowly, ensuring you could feel it, that he could see the way you shivered at the overstimulation when he brushed past your g-spot. 

“Look at me,” Zenos demanded. You hadn’t been aware you had closed your eyes but you opened them quickly, glaring at the man as intently as you could. And Zenos had the gall to laugh, genuine delight dancing in his eyes. “A stirring sight, to be sure.” 

You spat blood. 

The glob of red saliva missed from how quickly he moved, hitting his shirt instead. Zenos dropped you with visible disgust, stepping back so you could fall to the floor. You didn’t feel the pain, although it must have been quite jarring. Like a panicking animal, you scrambled around his legs, desperate to get away. 

“It is too late for that,” Zenos said, stopping your escape by stepping on your leg. It forced your hips flat on the cool floor, the rest of your body following suit. 

“Stop!”

Zenos ignored you, removing his boot as he crouched down behind you only to replace it with a knee settled heavily on the back of your leg, the metal edge of his armor pressing painfully into the soft flesh. He made quick work getting rid of the scrap remains of your underwear and shorts, tossing them aside and leaving no room for interpretation as to what was about to happen. Although the noticeable bulge made that point well enough. 

“Here now, beast,” he teased, his voice warm with amusement. “Heel.”  

“Gah-no,” you cried, ignoring the pain and lashing out, desperate to get out from under him. “Let me go!”

Rather than argue, Zenos grabbed one of your ears. Instinctually, your body went stiff to spare itself. In combat, you kept your sensitive, delicate ears protected, but now they were completely exposed. Afraid of what he might do, you didn’t resist as he pulled you back, forcing you to sit upright on your knees. 

“I understand the deformities of the beast savages are prone to exceptional sensitivity,” he said, pinching the delicate tip of your ear between his fingers to feel the fur. “Is that true?” 

You grit your teeth, fresh tears forming in your eyes. “Let me g-” Zenos cut you off, taking advantage of your open mouth to shove his fingers past your lips. They were the ones that had been inside of you, that had made you come. Your mouth filled with the salty, heady flavor. It mixed unpleasantly with the tangy taste of blood. Using his fingers like a hook on the inside of your cheek, Zenos turned your head sideways to make you look at him. 

His eyebrow quirked expectantly. “Clean up your mess.” 

Oh.

Oh. 

Embarrassment welled up in your chest and part of you wanted to bite him, but Zenos pulled on your ear again. Of the two horrors, you picked the lesser and obediently closed your lips around his fingers, sucking them clean. You had no idea how much of it was about sexual gratification. When he pushed them deeper and made you choke, he just looked amused. Curious about your reaction, maybe. The amount of dispassionate control he had over the situation when you could barely think right was terrifying. 

When Zenos decided you had done enough, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a deluge of bloody saliva, wiping them off on your sweaty tank top.    

You might have felt relief when he released your ear, but it was followed by the suggestive clink of metal as he undid his belt, leather sliding against itself, and you tensed up, your breathing picking up speed. Between the panic and blood and choking and hyperventilation, you felt as if you hadn't gotten a full breath in hours.

“You can’t do this,” you said, putting as much steel into your voice as possible. It trembled along with the rest of your body. 

Zenos didn’t bother responding. His belt dropped to the floor. You didn’t want to look back as you heard fabric being pushed aside, but you couldn’t help the impulse, twisting around to get a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Very little of Zenos’s body was revealed, only what was necessary. The bottom of a well muscled abdomen, a trail of blond hair, and his dick, the flushed head bobbing as he stroked himself fully hard. Zenos touched himself in a way that seemed to purposefully flaunt his body. As indifferent as he acted, the man was obviously vain. That wasn’t much of a concern right then. In his own hand, his cock was proportional, but considering you had felt those fingers inside of you already, proportional was synonymous with no way this was going to work. 

“Take pride in inspiring my lust,” he told you with the faintest trace of a smile. “It’s not often that I feel compelled to satiate my base urges for any reason other than convenience. But this… I shall enjoy this.” 

You jerked forward in an attempt to dislodge your leg, your sweaty palms slapping against the marble floor as you dragged yourself forward. Zenos calmly grabbed you by the tail to force you back into place. For the first time, he made you scream, the unexpected pain and shock zipping all the way up your spine to your pounding head. 

“Stop!” you demanded, attempting to twist around only to be knocked down to your elbows when he released your tail in favor of getting his hands around your hips to pull you into place. He seemed utterly unconcerned with you, preoccupied with your body instead.

The time for playing had, at long last, ended. 

“Spread your legs,” Zenos ordered, unnervingly dispassionate. 

You didn’t, not even sure if you could will your body to expose itself like that. 

Zenos wordlessly grabbed your tail again, using it to lift your back into a painful arch. Even with your thighs clamped together, the position forcibly exposed your bare ass and pussy to his eyes. The only way to hide would be to risk breaking your tail. He didn’t give you time to decide which was worse, his flat palm landing against your ass with a horribly loud smack. The slap was hard enough to make you yelp, hard enough to send your body lurching forward. Zenos patiently pulled you back into place by the tail, shooting fresh scores of pain up your spine. Red hot fire spread across your skin, you’d probably have a hand-shaped imprint there. The pain, however, was minor in comparison to the shock of being spanked. Like you were a disobedient child. And your body, the traitor, shuddered with the pain and humiliation. 

“Ah—ff-fine,” you said, spreading your legs before he could hit you again, squeezing your eyes shut against the embarrassment. Wordlessly, Zenos’s fingertips lightly traced over the hand-shaped mark, almost gentle. And then he spanked you again. Harder, a little lower than the first, targeting the very top of your thigh as well. Your shout was hoarse and choked. And still, he said nothing.

Maintaining a firm hold on your tail to keep your back arched as high as possible, Zenos pushed his cock between your folds. You were so wet that it slipped, bumping against your clit in a way that made you shiver. With the same calculated patience, he pulled back and aligned the thick head with your entrance, pressing into you. There was some give, but even though he had prepared you with his thick fingers, this was different. Your body acted instinctively to protect itself, you couldn’t help it. 

“Zenos, st—ah-” Your words cut off with a girlish yelp as he finally forced the head of his cock past the flinching muscles of your entrance. Your pussy clamped down hard around him, trying to keep him out, but that had the opposite effect. Given Zenos’s silent stoicism so far, hearing his little groan made the hairs on the back of your sweaty neck stand on end. It was wrong.  

“Can you not feel how your body begs—nay, weeps for mine, beast?” he asked with muted fervor, exchanging your tail for a handful of your loose hair. 

“N-nn-oh, stop,” you choked out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth floor. 

“No,” he said. The single, inflectionless word was worse than almost anything else he could have said, damning in its simplicity. There was nothing you could do to stop this. It was going to happen. Zenos let go of your hair and lifted you by the hips to mitigate the size discrepancy, it pushed him a little deeper, aided by how wet you were. 

“Ss-stop!” you demanded again, your voice raised in panic when he kept pushing. Beyond the initial stretch, there was resistance. No matter how wet you were, you didn’t want this. That didn’t so much as give him pause. Zenos sighed, twisting your hips to ease his way. You drew up painfully tense, your breathing harsh and fast. The tension made it worse, made the uncomfortable stretch that much more obvious. “Stopstopstop—” you practically chanted, but there was nothing you could do, Zenos had complete control over the position. Over you.

“Does it hurt?” he asked mockingly, curling down over you. “Do you ache?” 

A broken sound left your mouth, something like a sob. “Too much,” you got out through gritted teeth. “It won’t fit.” 

“‘Tis your own fault,” Zenos said. “Mayhap if you weren’t such a runtish creature…” The disdain in his voice was utterly uncalled for. It wasn’t your size that was the problem, he was too much for anybody to reasonably take. 

Without warning, he swept you up by the backs of your thighs, folding you against himself as he sat back. Gravity dragged you down further onto his cock, and a few upward thrusts of his hips did the rest. You were unable to do anything other than take it, the position left you without any room to struggle. The natural resistance of your body, the simple matter of size, only delayed the inevitable. With a terrible ripping sensation and a final few hard, shallow thrusts, you were fully seated on his cock. There was no relief or distraction you could find. There was nothing other than the pinching, pounding, splitting ache of being too full. The problem wasn’t just the length, his cock was too thick, greedily forcing your body to accommodate his own.   

Zenos sighed in satisfaction. Above you, behind you, inside of you, all around you. 

“There,” he said, the singular, satisfied word rumbling against your back. His armor scraped roughly against your bare shoulders, but even without it there would be no intimacy to this position. Now that you had sunk down his cock, your head didn’t so much as make it up to his chin. You may as well have been nothing more than a doll in comparison.

Unconcerned with your panting, trembling, pained reaction, Zenos leisurely rolled his hips. You could have sworn you felt his cock twitch inside of you. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat like you could, pulsing against him. So deep, selfishly, cruelly deep. You whimpered despite your best attempts to stay silent when he rolled his hips again. It was, in a way, almost nice of him to be giving you a moment to adjust. You would have expected Zenos to fuck you violently, vicious and bloody. But he seemed content to take his time. It was hard to imagine it was for your sake, but he wasn’t reacting like it was for his own either. 

Your breath caught when he began pulling out. It was what you wanted, but it still hurt, forcing you to feel the way your pussy unconsciously squeezed around him, your agonizingly raw walls fluttering in pain. Desperate to escape the splitting pain before he could fill you again, your body bunched up in an attempt to get away, but Zenos easily held you in place, his hips slamming upward. You wailed, thrashing helplessly against his hold.

“Quiet now, beast,” he warned in a low voice, “lest you wish for all to know how readily you take my cock.”

That dark threat kept you from making too loud of a noise in response to the next too-hard thrust, just a whimpery grunt from the strain it put on your body. The only benefit was that he couldn’t force you down all the way onto his cock each time in this position. A small mercy, considering how uncomfortably full you were anyway. 

But you knew what would happen. 

It didn’t stop aching, but you were more than aware that your body was easing into it. Submitting to him. Squeezing his cock, providing a fresh wave of lubrication, your hips tilting forward to match his. Rough sex wasn’t new to you, the only thing that set Zenos apart was his size. And the glaring fact that you didn’t want this. But, in any other circumstance, the manhandling and raw strength he casually displayed was something you liked. Even if your cognitive mind chanted that you didn’t want this, your body was stupid. It got confused about getting punched in the face, let alone being fucked. 

“Ah, I knew you would come around,” Zenos said, a smile in his voice. Holding your legs with his arms allowed one of his hands to sneak down, dropping to feel where your pussy was stretching around him. The stimulation made you shudder, your hips bucking forward. 

“Don’t,” you hissed, tensing up all over again. But Zenos didn’t seem to be listening, groaning at the way his touch made your pussy squeeze him, the rush of fresh arousal it brought to smooth his way. “Stop!” you whined, trying to writhe away from him. 

He ignored you, his rough fingers continuing to tease you, making you squirm and jerk and tighten around his cock again. 

“From now on,” Zenos said softly, “every time you allow another man to fuck you, I will be the one you think of. Be it with lust, hate, despair—your body will crave mine.”

Even if they were nothing more than hot air and overconfidence, his words made you moan. You wanted to be brave, to say something to shut him down like you had before, to insist that this didn’t feel good. It was so frustratingly unfair, so evil. Physical pain had never been able to weaken you into giving up, but a taste of pleasure could? 

His fingers trailed up further. When they found your neglected clit, you choked, your body jerking against his hold. Zenos rewarded your reaction with a hard thrust and, for the first time, the sound you let out was without the slightest hint of pain, an open obscenity of pleasure.  

Zenos groaned in turn, holding you tighter, his thrusts becoming more focused. The way he touched your clit was excessively good. Considering how much pain he had caused, it should have been impossible to think you could come from this. But you already had. And, in the absence of the adrenaline that had kept you alert while he was beating you up, there was a hollow within you. Hollow morals, hollow self preservation. Pleasure so easily filled the gaps in your empty mind, coiling up hot and tense inside of you with each thrust. 

So full, so deep. Every time his hips thrust upwards your body was pushed into his touch against your clit. The thick head of his cock hit in a way that made choke back moans and gasps, driving so deep you could have sworn you’d feel him just by pressing against your abdomen. And then there was the pressure. The fullness. Full of him. Whenever your cunt squeezed with pleasure, it hurt. And it felt good. 

“It’s almost too easy,” Zenos said, his voice finally showing the strain of pleasure and exertion. “You will come for me again, will you not?”  

The moan you couldn’t bite back was meant to be denial. It wasn’t. 

“Savor it,” Zenos said, even softer. “No other man will fulfill you as I do.”

By the twelve, his voice filled you like smoke, swirling in your head, inundating your entire body. It was all Zenos. The sweet scent of his hair, the solid strength of his body as he held you, as he fucked you. His cock. Gods, it reached places inside of you that you weren’t even aware of before then. The drag of calloused fingertips on your clit. You could hate him but right then you were practically choking on your pleasure, on the intoxication of it all. 

And then you were coming, your pussy clamping down around his cock and your body going painfully tense. Behind you, Zenos grunted, and you met that with a helpless moan, shuddering apart, liquid heat making everything right for a few lovely moments. 

Reality reclaimed you quickly. Sweaty, aching, bloody, trembling, and breathless. 

“Ss-no-oh more,” you gasped out, your body shying away as pleasurable release became overstimulated horror and nausea. To your surprise, he did, holding your shaking body in place while you both caught your breath. After a moment of agonizing stillness, Zenos lifted you up and off of him, letting you fall onto the floor in a pile of awkward limbs, panting and trembling and reeling. Firm hands flipped you onto your back. The cold floor was uncomfortable against your bare shoulders, and painfully hard. 

As you had several times before in far less disadvantageous situations, you stared up at Zenos. Behind him, the kami memorialized on the wall seemed to shiver in the warm yellow light, their painted visages watching the desecration of their shrine. Zenos’s hulking figure covered your view of the sun kami, his golden hair making him out to be a mockery of the divine. 

He was still hard, his erection shining with red-tinged slick. The sight echoed the throbbing pain inside of you, inciting a fresh wave of panicked defensiveness. Before you could try and get away, Zenos grabbed your legs, callously hauling you up so your thighs could lay over his, your legs propped up against his torso. 

“What’re-”

“Alas, our time together is running short. I can no longer entertain your needs.”

With one hand holding you in place by the bruised neck, he used the other to stroke himself, measuring his cock against your abdomen to gauge how deep he was going. The sight was dizzying. No wonder there was blood. The weight was startling as well, the pure overwhelming physical difference between the two of you. It all made your head spin. Your own arousal smeared in a pinkish stain across your skin as you squirmed, your pussy squeezing painfully around nothing. Zenos ignored your reaction, appraising the sight with an unreadable expression before his eyes dragged upward. 

Throughout all of this, you had retained your undershirt and bra. The fabric was bunched up to your waist, drenched with sweat. Nearly translucent. He said that you were appealing earlier, but the way he looked at you didn’t betray any sort of attraction, nor disgust. Just interest, curiosity. 

“‘Tis a shame we haven’t the opportunity to truly savor this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his expression remaining composed. “Your body is,” he let out a breath through his teeth, his eyes dragging further down, “uniquely gratifying.” 

The praise, such as it was, made your pussy clench down around nothing, sending hot waves of pain throughout your lower half. And he intended for more. Gods have mercy. 

“Nn-no more” you said hoarsely. “Anything else, I ca-ah-” You yelped when he grabbed you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you despite the way you thrashed. One of your kicks nearly landed, but he pulled out of the way at the last second.  

Wordlessly, Zenos slapped you across the face. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever been slapped, but the point wasn’t to hurt you. It was meant to stun you, to humiliate you. And it worked. The shock made you fall still, your face blazing. He used your compliance to work his cock into you. The inexorable stretch surprised you all over again. Impossibly hard, unyielding.

“You’ve naught else to offer, beast,” Zenos said, sliding you all the way down. You choked, shuddered, not wanting to watch him but unable to look away. Zenos’s eyes fluttered shut, chin tilting back with the faintest expression of pleasure. Almost serene. “Not yet. This is but a prelude of what’s to come.” 

He rolled his hips once, twice before the trance was broken, and he looked at you, watching your reaction as he pulled you off of him, as you tensed and shuddered and grit your teeth against the pain as he thrust back into your pussy with a sloppy, filthy slap of skin. The position, the way he was holding you, the control he had over your body—it was borderline masturbatory. He was using you as somebody would use an object. Unlike before, he could thrust to the hilt every time. Too deep, skin slapping skin, his cock forcing your body to make space where there was none. 

Despite the throbbing ache, you were wet enough to ease his way. You moaned brokenly, half sobbing. You couldn’t do anything other than take it. Zenos didn’t seem overly concerned with you anyway, focused on using your body to reach his own end. 

You yelped when his hand closed around your bruised, sore neck again, your eyes meeting his in new panic. Zenos didn’t look at you like a lover, or even with overt pleasure. His eyes were wide and excited, his lips stretched in something like a smile. Insanity and bliss. 

“Tell me, has any other man known you in this way?” Zenos asked, his voice unraveled into joyous breathlessness. “Known your thirst for pleasure through violence, for depravity through blood?”  

“No!” you responded quickly, forcing the word out despite the pressure on your throat in the hopes he’d let up. 

“This passion… it is new to me as well.” 

“Zenos, please s-slo-” Your plea broke apart when he released your throat to grab your waist again, twisting your hips. Even through the pain, you could feel the way it changed the angle in which he entered you, and the raw echo of pleasure.

“The great eikon-slayer… would beg?” he asked. He was insane. He was insane and he was going to fuck you to death while smiling that insane smile. You whined, trying to get his hands to loosen enough for you to squirm away. For all the good it did. He wasn’t even fucking you, just sliding you up and down his cock with the unbreakable grip he had on your waist. “Go on then, beast. Beg.” 

“N-no, Zenos, ss-stop.”

“Endure the pain,” he told you. And then, a moment later, “You are worthy of it.” 

You whined, a sound that became a wail when he twisted your hips again. Everything was too loud, the ugly noise of skin slapping skin echoing off of the walls, your ragged  breathing, and your heart thundering like an engine. It was more than you could take to hear Zenos moan too, low in his chest, his hips finally meeting yours as he grew closer to his own end. 

You only realized Zenos didn’t intend to pull out at the point that his hips were stuttering, his hands holding onto you tight enough that his thumbs could touch, each uneven stroke pushing his cock as deep as possible. 

“Nn-No, you ca-can’t,” you said, fresh tears in your eyes. 

“You will take my seed,” Zenos said, openly wearing his pleasure at your reaction as he stared down at you. “Be grateful.” 

It wasn’t any more or less miserable than all that had already happened, but the facsimile of intimacy made you whimper. So cruel. Zenos watched you as he came, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. His fingers dug bruises into your waist. Your entire body jolted with each uneven thrust, your cunt squeezing his cock as if you wanted this. And you could have sworn you felt his cum against your painfully raw inner walls as he came. He didn’t waste any of it, not pulling out until he was entirely finished.  

Zenos let you fall onto the floor, his breathing heavy as he sat back. You curled your legs inward, wincing at the mess oozing out of you. There was no part of you that wasn’t painful and messy. Covered in blood and sweat and bruises, half naked, and utterly exhausted. Unlike you, Zenos didn’t look all that much worse for wear. Nothing that couldn’t be easily fixed. Sparing no moment for sentimentality of any kind, he fixed his clothes. There was nothing you could do about your own.  

“You will forgive me,” Zenos said, his voice low and husky. “In my enthusiasm… mayhap I went too far.” 

There was nothing to make you profoundly regret every single one of your previous decisions like looking into the empty blue eyes of your enemy feeling a mixture of blood and cum ooze out of you. Unsure if you could trust your voice, you just glared at him. His lips curled with the slightest promise of amusement. 

“Yes, it is a shame our time was so limited,” he said, standing up. “But we both have more important matters to attend to.” 

He stooped down to grab his coat on the way out. It was sprinkled with dried blood. You hoped it was ruined. 

“I’ll kill you, you know,” you said when he was at the door. Your voice was hoarse and ruined, but the words were clear enough. You meant them too. Not even out of malice, it just seemed so strikingly obvious. “Unless you kill me now.”  

Zenos hesitated and, for a second, you wondered if he was actually going to do it. “Go lick your wounds,” he finally said. Once the door was open, he paused again, speaking without turning around. “Until we meet again, my beast.” 

[mothwingwritings]

Dreaming Of World's End

Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Waaah it has been so long!!! I apologize for the absence! I have been working on and doing all kinds of stuff (fics included) as of late so I did one of my classic dip outs there for a moment, but I’m here! Just plunking away as usual. :)

With Dawntrail coming up I have been focusing a big chunk of my free time on trying to beat Endwalker (I am slow in all things, video games included lul) because I wanna be there with the herd with Dawntrail comes out!!! I have no idea if I am gonna make it, but I am doing the best I can to catch up!!!

That being said: Zenos brainrot propelled this fic from my brain, to my computer, to you. Was I and am I also writing a bunch of other things? Yes. Is this the only thing I could momentarily focus on writing-wise because I have been compromised by my love for this fucked up man? Also yes. I’m sorry. It’s bad. I was already obsessed with him in Stormblood and now that I am deep within the clutches of the Endwalker msq… It’s over for me guys. It was a good run, but rip to me. My WOL may be playing hard to get, but I’m sure not. Zenos if you are reading this, you can just have me.

So without further ado, here is a Zenos fic I have been working on! My love for him aside, I think Zenos is a super fun character to write for, so I really hope I did him some justice! This is a reader insert fic, but you are the Warrior of Light in it so feel free to insert your OC’s and WOL if you like! I tried to keep the reader neutral, but I will say it’s def aimed more at a female reader/character and if you are a shorter race like a Lala it will probs be a little wonky, so my apologies. Also, I am about half way? A little over half way? through the Endwalker main story, so potential spoilers up to that point. This fic takes place sometime between post Shadowbringers and the first part of Endwalker.

Nothing overly explicit, but due to the nature of this fic it is 18+ please!

Thank you so much for reading!!! <3 I truly hope you enjoyed!

WARNINGS: Unhealthy relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), intense infatuation, implied noncon, noncon mentions,  a lot of fighting and mentions of fighting, mentions of death and the end of the world, unwanted touching, Endwalker spoilers.

It was always the same dream.

Amaurot. The end times. Death, destruction, chaos. Streets tainted by endless misery, stifling woe permeating the air as people ran about frantically, picked off left and right by horrendous, nightmarish monsters. Screams pierced the air as the remaining survivors struggled in vain, desperate to escape a fate that they could not avoid.

Just as any other night, he would watch it all unfold with cold indifference. Walking through the crumbling, fire charred lanes of this shell of a once bustling city, he would take it all in at a leisurely pace, maintaining a stride no more rushed than if he were taking a pleasant stroll. His features would be void of distress or malaise, his face a blank slate as he paraded down roads lined with bodies and devastation.

Zenos could say it was because he had grown accustomed to it, have the same dream each night and the grisly scenario that laid in wait past your closed eyes was bound to no longer shock you. But that would be a lie, as this ghastly nightmare had never truthfully bothered him to begin with. He simply didn’t care, not about the dying planet, nor its inhabitants that suffered the same fate. This scene from another time, this moment from a faraway place that no longer existed, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any form of remorse for the phantoms left to wallow helplessly in this endless, hellish loop, even if his own star was on track to share the same fate.

An echo of the past was just that, to dwell on it was a fool’s errand.

But tonight, it was not the end of times that greeted him when he closed his eyes. In its place stood an immaculate hall appearing to belong to some manner of grandiose castle. Pristine and orderly, he sat upon a large throne questionably positioned in the middle of the walkway, facing so that a vast expanse of the hall was clearly within his view.

Had he been here before? It was hard to say, having been trapped by palace walls most of his life they all blurred together after a certain point. Perhaps this wasn’t even a castle, but some manner of fortress. The varying weapons displayed neatly along the surrounding walls certainly made it feel as if this was more than just a mere abode for royalty to live out their boringly opulent lives, perhaps it doubled as an armory of sorts? Every sword, spear, and battle axe looked immaculately cared for; their blades so sharp simply looking at them made you feel as if you had been sliced.

His time to dwell upon the mystery of his surroundings was quick to dissipate however, as he felt a familiar presence approach him from behind. He remained still when a delicate hand was placed upon him, crawling from his arm to slide unhurriedly across his broad shoulders. The caress occupied the entirety of his thoughts, manicured nails scratching lightly against his flesh as they raked across his back, pressing just hard enough that they left a pleasant burn in their wake.

“There you are,” a deceptively alluring voice purred in his ear. Phantom arms draped themselves loosely over his shoulders, their fingers moving to trace a swirling pattern upon his chest. Goosebumps littered his arms at the brief contact. “Were you hiding from me?”

A small smile spread across his lips. What elation merely hearing your voice caused.

Were he not already aware of it, he would recognize he was in a dream from this interaction alone. You, only you, would be welcomed to touch him this way. But even were he to offer invitation, you would never do so of your own free will. There was a mixture of pride and revulsion that kept your interactions with him void of skinship, save for the fleeting contact that occurred when you were locked in combat.

His motivations, the way he chose to experience the world, your differing values and opinions. Like night and day, they barred you from reciprocating his feelings towards you. Because of this, he was left to revel in your touch exclusively in the realm of dreams.

“On the contrary,” he hummed, “you have been the one to keep me waiting.”

A low chuckle reverberated from your chest, sending a shiver down his spine. You rose to your full height, pulling away slowly until you disconnected from him completely. Even if the contact was nothing more than an attempt at provocation, he missed your touch the moment you detached yourself.

“Well then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord,” you enunciated his title tauntingly, the playful lilt in your voice exciting him further. He heard you take several languid steps away from him before you spoke once more. “That is, if you even have a heart that can offer forgiveness.”

Zenos rose to his feet, turning to finally face you. Your back greeted him as you stared up at the myriad of weaponry covering the back wall, the hand that was moments ago atop his chest now gracefully running across the hilt of a long sword. Your fingers lingered on the handle, moving as if you were going to grip it, but never completing the task.

Zenos smiled. You were toying with him.

“You jest,” he spoke, taking a measured step your way, “if anyone has intimate knowledge of the existence of my heart and whom it beats for, it is you.”

Your posture stiffened in acknowledgment of the insinuation, yet you refused to turn his way.

“Is that so,” your voice seemed distant, as if you were unwilling to accept the burden of the intense desire he held for you, “Forgive me, I must have misread the situation. Due to the nature of how our meetings always end, I figured you only ever wanted one thing from me, and that is my blood.”

A low chuckle rumbled from within him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. For all that you were, all the skills and knowledge that you held, you could certainly be dense.

“I desire all you have to offer,” he answered plainly, “Your fury and malice, your rage and rancor, your disdain and desire,” he continued to approach you, each step slow and deliberate as he closed in on your staunch form. “Your love and affection are no different. I want to consume your every thought, just as you consume mine. I want you to taste me in the air you breathe and feel me crawling under your skin, even when I am far removed from your presence.”

He stopped several steps away from you, keeping his distance but lingering close enough that it bordered on intrusive. He raised his hand calmly, reaching out to grab a stray lock of your hair between his fingers. He gingerly caressed the silky strands, smirking when he noted that even such slight contact caused a shudder to lurch your otherwise statuesque form.

“You can play the fool all you want, but you cannot hide the fact that the same beast that dwells in me is also within you. They call out, craving each other to the point of madness.  We need each other. This dance we share must continue in perpetuity, lest our fierce yearning for each other’s presence turn us to savages incapable of rational thought, driven to the point of committing mass, undiscriminating destruction as a means to appease ourselves.”

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss atop the tendrils in his hand, before letting it slip from his grasp completely. “And you would do anything to divert that misfortune, would you not hero?”

Your shoulders began to quiver, shaken by the threat of violence he could and would commit simply to be by your side.  An impatient sigh escaped his lips, “So come, what better way is there to quench each other’s thirst and prevent calamity than through a mutually beneficial rendezvous? Surely even someone as set in their way as you are is in agreeance.”

“I was under the assumption that you planned on battling me until the world was torn asunder, regardless of if I entertain your perversions or not,” Your voice dripped with disdain as you spat your response at him, “If that is the case, pray tell why I should not cut you down where you stand? Why must the dance continue if the outcome is all the same?”

Your words made the smile on his face grow, stretching his lips to an unnatural degree. Taking another step forward, he leaned in until his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. Placing his hands firmly atop your shoulders, he gave a tight squeeze as he responded.

“Because we share one destiny,” he pressed his cheek flush against your head, inhaling deeply before releasing it in a slow, shaky sigh, “even now as you try so hard to deny me, our fate is intertwined, my warrior. You cannot escape me, and I have no desire to escape you. The dismantling of this world as a result of our conquest is all but inevitable and I welcome it with open arms.”

“I won’t let the world crumble to ash.” Your bold declaration was spoken as if it were fact, the conviction in your voice sending a surge of wanton excitement coursing through his veins. “Say and do as you like, the future you seek will never come to pass.”

Oh, how he adored you.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “You can try and stop me, but you cannot escape what has been predestined.”

During the course of the conversation, your hand had had traveled to the base of an axe, your fingers wrapping around it to grasp the handle in a constricting hold. All of the anger that had been bubbling up reflected in the whites of your knuckles, the tremor of your hand becoming more apparent as your composure slipped further and further. The cool demeanor you initially donned had completely shifted, overridden by the immense agitation his presence was inviting.

The axe was ripped swiftly from the wall, lacking fluidity. There was no care for keeping the wall in tact or making sure all the other weapons that surrounded it stayed in their spot. You ripped it down with one great tug, bits of stone and surrounding armaments clattering noisily into a massive steel heap on the ground as you finally spun around to face him. Zenos had seconds to react as you swung down in a wide arc, the finely sharpened blade slicing easily through the decorative tiling that coated the floor, decimating the ground where he once stood.

“There we are,” Zenos growled in anticipation, sizing you up with a bloodthirsty grin, “you are a vision to behold when you let your ferocity consume you.”

You deigned to answer him, your icy countenance his only response as you straightened your posture, considering your next move.  Your distaste for him was clear as you hefted your axe from the ground, dust settling around you as it was freed with a mighty yank. Weapon in hand, you came for him in a relentless torrent, striking at him in a flurry of breakneck swings. In the ensuing madness, he grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach-a sword that was more ornate that functional, but it would serve its purpose for the time being.

The enmity increased as he reciprocated your attacks. Parrying each blow with a steady hand, he responded to your blows with calculated strikes of his own, expertly countering your aggression. The air around the two of you had become electric, charged with hostility and fervor as you hacked away at each other time and time again.

Though frantic, the assault was far from inelegant. Each swing of your axe and swipe of his blade was an orchestrated maneuver befitting the couple who performed them. It was as beautiful as it was fierce, a true force of nature. To an untrained eye the activity would appear as nothing more than a blur of chaos, annihilating all that was in its wake. But to Zenos, a man who had dedicated himself to your study, it was a sight that made his heart ache.

He was witnessing a glorious preamble, a promise forged in battle between himself and his righteous and powerful hero, the only person with whom he ever felt a true connection. This battle, amongst all of its other perks, gave him purpose.

Fighting you, he felt alive. To be the sole receiver of all your ire, your discontent, your undivided attention… it was like a dream. He realized this encounter was most likely just that, a conjuring of your presence from his sleep addled mind, a side effect of his constant ruminations of you. You already occupied each of his waking thoughts, it only made sense that having you visit in his dreams would soon follow.

Be that as it may, the knowledge that this moment lived solely in his mind did little to dissuade his desire to get lost in it, to get lost in you.  If he couldn’t have you in the waking world, his dreams would have to suffice, at least for the time being. Besides, there were things he could accomplish in his dreams that would never be plausible elsewhere, moments of intimacy he could forge that would never present a chance of happening in reality.

A particularly rough blow sent Zenos reeling. The sword knocked from his hand scattered just out of reach, his body lurching to an abrupt stop as he collided with rubble that had piled up behind him. A quick glance your way revealed a small smirk ghosting your lips, a hint of satisfaction shining through your hostility. He could see the assurance reflected in your eyes, a swell of pride over the victory you would soon be relishing.

Zenos mirrored your glee, pleased you were having as much fun as he was.

As you hoisted your axe high, thoroughly preoccupied with your pending achievement, Zenos took the moment to strike. Launching himself from the ground, he rammed his body against yours, hitting you hard and fast. The speed at which he closed the gap astounded you as much as the collision had, causing the axe to topple from your hands, skittering out of your reach. A pained grunt escaped your lips as you collided with the ground, Zenos following suit atop you. His hand cradled the back of your head as you fell, catching hold before it could crack against the stony floor. It would do no good to have you suffer injury and pass out now, not as things were about to get truly interesting.

Positioning himself atop your fallen form, his body caged you in as you lay beneath him, panting and exhausted. Splayed amongst the rubble, your confusion morphed into a look of annoyance as you realized your situation had drastically changed. Your success had been stolen from you and now the thief had you cornered, trapped right where he wanted.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you in this moment,” Zenos spoke between his own labored breaths, pressing into you ever further as his face hovered inches from your own, “Disheveled and feral, transformed by your bloodlust, you have never been more breathtaking.”

“I’m not like you,” you retorted sharply, “I don’t revel in such acts of savagery.”

Zenos chuckled, “And yet you seemed quite delighted moments ago when you were convinced victory was within your grasp.” You frowned as his hand found purchase on your chin, gripping it in a tight pinch to keep your focus fixed his way, “But here you are now, bested and at my mercy.”

You grimaced, “I have yet to lose to you. I refuse to concede defeat.”

In response to your bold declaration, he gave a throaty, booming laugh. How was it that you always knew just what to say to drive him absolutely mad with desire?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Zenos smashed his lips to yours, capturing you in a heated and hungry kiss. Your brain took a moment to comprehend the abrupt action, but as it did you began to struggle against it, thrashing and clawing at him in an effort to create distance.  Zenos remained firm, making it clear that you had expended far more energy than he had, leaving your assault lacking the power needed to stop him. Whines of displeasure snaked from your mouth as his grip tightened on your chin, squeezing so roughly you couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Eagerly seizing the opportunity, he muscled his tongue inside of you, lapping at the inside of your mouth aggressively. He groaned as he savored the taste of you.

When a need for air arose, he pulled back slightly, staring down at you with lidded eyes. Your saliva coated his lips, giving a glossy sheen as they curled into an offputtingly tranquil smile. His hand moved from your chin to drag languidly across your cheek, the brief touch of his rough finger tips sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze wavered the longer you stayed trapped in this awkward position, your eyes brimming with uncertainty. You seemed unsure of where to look, what to do, how to escape. In his wishful thinking, Zenos wondered if perhaps you were even unsure if you truly wanted to escape.

Amongst your numerous charms, Zenos found your enigmatic personality to be one of your most appealing. Being such a virtuous being, your motivations, ambition, and drive were all easy enough to sort out. You are Hydaelyn’s chosen, the Warrior of Light, the people’s champion, and you live up to those titles and more. You are a hero through and through, a source of salvation for those you protect and a complete nightmare for those that offer opposition. There is no doubt that you are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the encounter or situation may be.

And what good hero is without a nemesis? It’s a role the disgraced Prince and betrayer of his kin plays well. In his illustrious life he had gone through the motions, donned many hats, played countless roles, many of which were not of his choosing. But of all his grand titles, your adversary is most certainly his favorite, the only one that gives him any sense of pride. Your existence gave him purpose, and for you alone he kept up the hunt.

But he knew it was different for you. Though cut of the same cloth and driven by destiny to engage him, your feelings did not completely align with his own. You were driven by more than barbarity, more than a duty to save your people and your planet. There was something inside of you, something that made you YOU, that he could never truly know, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

You were his greatest conundrum, a true mystery, and when you look at him as you were now with those eyes that swirled with anger, uncertainty, grief, and something yet unspoken… What was he to do but become a slave to this maddening, consuming attraction?

He gloated about being the victor, but it was clear you would always have the upper hand.

“Get off of me.”

The demand brought him back to the present, sheer determination replacing the conflicting emotions that fought for dominance within you. He could tell by the bite in your voice that your vigor was returning, and given a bit more time and provocation, the battle would gloriously resume.

“Eagar to carry on with our dance, are you?” He responded, an almost teasing lilt to his voice, “Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of defeat at my hands?

“I already told you, you didn’t defeat me,” you glowered, your rage becoming palpable the longer his unwanted presence loomed, “I came here to end this farce and I plan to do just that.”

A beat of silence passed, followed by a sigh. Parting your lips to speak, your voice came out quieter, more desperate than it had previously.

“I wanted to keep this is civil as possible and respect your wishes as best I could, no matter how twisted they may be. But even for your own benefit, you refuse to entertain the notion of making this situation even the slightest bit amicable. You speak of such lofty things as fate and destiny, but all I am witnessing is you causing unnecessary suffering, hiding behind my name to do so.”

For a split second, another flash of uncertainty danced across your features. You bit your bottom lip in vexation, a glimmer lighting your eyes as they swept across his handsome face, “There is more to this world, more to this life, than waiting for its untimely end. To live out your days perpetuating death and blind havoc is no way to exist, it’s a tragedy. Why can’t you see that? Zenos, I-“

As if taken by surprise, you cut your own words short, silencing the previous thought that had been brewing. Zenos felt as if you looked pained, staring at him with pleading eyes, face scrunched up in frustration. Even with all the hate you carried for him, you were still trying to understand him, still clinging to the hope that maybe you could save him too.

Here, on the cusp of annihilation, you were doing all you could to fulfill the role of hero and protect the people that you loved. In order to fulfill that duty, it meant he must be defeated. There could be no other ending, the inexorable conclusion to all of this was always cold and endless death. Whether it would be all of humanities or just his own was still to be determined, but it did little to change the fact that there was no future to plan for, only a violently rapturous and melancholic end.

To be cherished by you, to feel your love as if he were one of your dearest companions… It was a thought not meant to be dwelled on, but one he found hard to completely shake from his head. How would it feel to be earnestly and unequivocally loved by you? Perhaps in another world, another time, your souls would be reborn and given another chance. A fresh beginning to grow together, an opportunity to nurture something more than the misfortune this world had thrust upon you. Maybe in some alternate telling of this tale the two of you were together and happy, with nothing but a bright future awaiting you on the horizon.

But that was simply a foolish daydream. All that he had, all he could hope for, was the here and now.

You sighed again, steeling your resolve with a shake of your head, “Never mind. You have already proven to me mere words cannot move you, so I will save my breath.”

Raising your torso as much as his hold on you would allow, your eyes bore into his, fully accepting the challenge that lay ahead. Though still restrained, there was an aura of dominance that surrounded you. It was a warning to Zenos that your binds were temporary, whether he released you willingly or otherwise was his decision, but regardless the outcome would be the same.

“If it’s the end you want, it’s the end I will bring you,” your soft words clashed with the look of malice reflected in your eyes, your breath fanning his face as your noses nearly touched. For an instant your eyes darted to his lips, and Zenos wondered if it would be you to instigate the kiss this time.

“I will fulfill my role. I will be your end and your salvation.”

Your words pierced him, the proclamation sending sparks of excitement to course through him, igniting his soul. His whole body burned for you, intense and consuming, his need for you was beginning to show itself in ways beyond his control. Pressing his hips flush between your spread legs, he made his intentions known to you, a shiver wracking his body when you released a small gasp of surprise.

Clutching the remaining shreds of his sanity, he grunted as you writhed against his growing arousal, pulling your body up towards him until he had engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“Enough time has been wasted,” he snarled into your neck, his chest rumbling as his grip on you tightened, “let us deliver a ruin unto ourselves so extraordinary, so beautiful, that naught will remain but the scattered fragments of this forsaken world.”

Loosening his grip, he pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste, yet gentle, kiss. Your brow furrowed at his touch, shoulders tensing as you drew yourself back from him, recoiling at the small display of adoration. He found the reaction endearing, even with his intentions laid bare and and his hardened cock pressed firmly against your core, it was the smallest token of his affection that caused you to squirm.

Repugnance, hatred, scorn- whatever you felt for him in this moment, none of it mattered, none of it deterred him. He loved you, and he would make that love known in the only way he knew how, while he still had time to do so.

“This shall be my final gift to you,” he purred into your ear, his grip latching securely to your tunic. With nimble hands he started to pull, exposing yourself to him bit by bit as the fabric turned to tatters in his hands.  “Let us relish it my friend, my warrior, my beloved. Destroy me, and I shall be your devastation in kind. ”

[zenoes]

if i say that zenos’ way of nesting is very crude in that instead of collecting clothes or belongings, he (kills) collects the the bodies of all the people you fight, am i a weirdo yes or no.

[cinnabun-faerie]

How would zenos react this?: His y/n sitting him down and explain to him that they can turn into giant black snake, but he dose not believe them because they show no signs that they can do so. So y/n takes him outside and transforms and just looks at him for few seconds and saids "see i told you" then goes back to original form.

Zenos Reacting to the WoL turning into a giant snake

When you first tell him, he laughs. There is no way that you could do that. It was impossible. You don't have fangs and your eyes aren't snake-like. And you've bitten him many times and yet he did not feel a drop of poison in his veins. But if it made you feel better, you could believe whatever you want (Cue the "Sure Jan" meme).

But when you take him outside and actually transform, he is speechless. You really have made a fool of him. He had truly believed you were merely talking out of your ass- but you...you truly could turn into a snake. And what a majestic beast you were; towering over him as if he were your prey. He was impressed. He might even reach out to touch, only to hear you hiss.

"Yes, I was wrong. Now, let me caress you."

[snakegorl212006]

Zenos Headcanons pt 1

(Friend Vs partner)

---Friendship------------------------------------------------ -literally wasn't even your choice but he dragged you into this twisted friendship -If he sees you from afar he’s automatically going to go towards you -he’s not walking he’s sprinting -fights like 3-4 times a day -he’ll spare you if you lose but you better win the next one or he’ll get bored of you -low key wants you to win though -makes sure no one insults you or they’ll be put six feet under -that's not promise that’s a fact -that also goes to anyone else that is trying to harm you -if you have your own house he’ll definitely see if he can be roomates with you -he’ll be the type of friend who bullies you but if someone else tries to do the same thing he’ll get defensive -he’s pretty helpful if needed -if you had a disability or any physical or mental problems he’ll be impressed and very supportive.. In his own way -You’re like his second in command and his most trustworthy comrad ---Partner/lover--------------------------------------------- -none of you know why you two are together but it works and he’s happy about it -you guys have the best hate-love relationship - he seems like the type of person who wouldn't like to sit around all day but if you want to just lay down in bed with him. He’ll make the acception -HATES interruption -he’ll be annoyed if someone interrupts his time with you especially if he has stuff to do -you guys still spar eachother but depending on the day of the week it could be more or less -normal conversations are almost non existent -possessive af -sit on his lap to boost his pride -he’ll buy you a weapon -over all attached to the hip with you -a sadist but is respectful but still a sadist -his love languages are Physical touch and Quality time -He just want to be around because you make him feel a certain way that is addicting to him

[lovehotelreservation]

For the prompts, Zenos - mating press: after another long-winded out speech for his best frenemy, his 'beast' upon their next meeting/battle, WoL says: 'Frankly I'm disappointed. I expected better.'

"And I expected you to put up more of an effort, my dearest friend. Rather than a beast, I see a wanton desire to become my personal scabbard--a pity."

With a click of his tongue, Zenos let out a sigh, even while the sound of your helpless moans and squeals compelled him to drill his cock in and out of your core with little regard, all the while he kept your body caged beneath him with utmost ease, the hot and sticky rivulets of his cum continuing to seep out of you.

[annhellsing]

Meet the War

notes: i love zenos so much and while this is shameless smut, it’s also a little bit of a character study. thank you so much to @mitsurugireiji for beta reading and giving me ideas aplenty!! rating: explicit, there’s nudity and oral sex. pairing: zenos yae Galvus  / reader word count: 2,457

He has a bleary, hopeless love about him that even he isn’t aware of. You’re sure that any trace of it must be accidental, Zenos avoids clear emotion like the plague. But whatever airtight seal he has over himself seems to loosen when your arms loop around him. He seems to give in, to unwind like bandages keeping in a wound. His guts spill out in the figurative sense, although the sensation is very literal to him.

“What’s that look?” you ask, tapping the end of his thin nose very gently with the pad of your index finger. It comes away a bit red. Zenos visibly bristles. You pout. “Oh, it’s gone.”

“What’re you talking about?” he drawls, unhappy that you’ve gone and drawn attention to him. He shifts on the bed, nudging a little closer to you and your seeking arms. You smile a bit, leaning in and this time--- it’s a kiss you press where you once tapped.

When you drag your tongue over your lower lip, it tastes like coppery blood.

“Like you were all happy and content,” you explain, “that was the look you had. I liked it.”

He scoffs between his teeth, but doesn’t turn away from your lips against his face. You kiss his cheeks, the high points of each of them and the dip of the bridge of his nose. You put your mouth to the hollows of his eyelids, breathing softly against his forehead. When he shivers, you can feel it against your chest.

And all the while there is the pervasive smell of metal, of iron and copper. You’re not sure of its origin, or whether there is more or less blood when you pull away. A great deal splashed on your person, going as ignored as the gore that stains him.

Your wrist is caught in his hand before it touches his cheek. Kisses and touches at the same time are risky things, liable to overwhelm the man. So you slow, letting him hold you in his loose grip with your palm up. 

Zenos turns his face towards it, puts a kiss to where your thumb joins with your hand. Then, another one under your index and middle finger. A third under your ring and pinkie. You sigh against him, when you’re at last released and permitted to touch.

He isn’t used to it, of course. It’s the reason why he scowls, for your painless acts of love are deeply foreign. But they please you, and he was made to please you. So they are allowed.

You don’t care that he tastes of sword-metal and smoke. That every swipe of your tongue over his lips comes up blood. He will never be satisfied, but that is especially true following a hunt. Leading him to violence carries the same conclusion time and time again, you cannot be cross with him for being consistent.

“If anyone were to walk in on us, they would think us depraved,” you smile at him. His lip quirks up a fraction.

“They would be right, I should think,” he replies. He nuzzles his face closer to you, trying to catch with the bed of his tongue the bead of your enemy’s blood that carves its red path down your cheek. You sputter and pull away with a laugh.

“Don’t be vulgar, darling,” you chastise with all the weight of gentle mockery. “Though it does seem we’re both in need of a bath.”

“But I like the look of you as you are,” Zenos hums, pushing his hand through your hair. His big fingers do not tug or pull, and they come to rest at the base of your skull. “Exactly as you are.”

“Then you are the depraved one,” you laugh again, sitting up on the bed and prompting him to withdraw his arm. He looks displeased, like he was looking forward to spending the dwindling evening lying there with you.

“Kiss me again,” he wants to sound demanding, the way an emperor should. But it falls flat, sounding more like a plea the longer you stare at him. As always, your eyes are gentle but they take in the blood pooling in his cupid's bow. And that which is quickly drying on his cheeks.

“One more kiss,” you bargain, “and then a bath, for I am not so keen to make love in this state as you are.”

You lean forward and bestow the gift he asks for. A kiss, his lips to your lips is easily given. Zenos tries to keep you there, his big hands grab for your shoulders but you’re too quick. You grab him by the scruff of the shirt and haul him up to sit next to you.

“Who said anything of lovemaking?” he asks, tilting his head a touch to emphasize his own teasing. You pull him closer, barely gentle before giving him a wolfish smile.

“You have been hard since you sunk your blade in that very first soldier,” you beam, “how long ago was that? Over an hour? You must be very sore by now.”

“Then take me,” he mumbles, his bloody face is inches from yours, “prove that you are right.”

His hand moves quickly, between his legs and over the prominent bulge in his underclothes. Zenos stiffens, gasping slightly for dramatic effect. That is, until he catches your unamused eye. He falters, just slightly.

“No,” you say. And he knows he is to remove his hand. He does it slowly, but at least he does it this time. He’s learned his lesson from last week. “Did I say that you could touch?”

“Well, if you aren’t going to---” he starts. You cut him off with a glare, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

“A bath,” you say, “now.”

“And after that?” he gives a hopeful look that you’re sure he isn’t aware of.

“Get up,” you say, though your voice is not as anger-hardened as your eyes. That gives him a bit of hope, at least.

What he’s pulled towards is not, of course, a real tub. A tent in the middle of a battlefield that runs red with the enemy’s blood is a far cry from the amenities a palace can provide. But since you are so insistent upon cleanliness, Zenos chooses to kneel at the water basin--- if only to placate you.

The water is still warm when you cup your hand and dip it below the surface. Pulling his hair back, you wet his cheeks and forehead, working to get the worst of the gore off of him. He gives an inaudible sigh, still confused by intimacy but not about to rebuke it. 

While he would happily wear the marker of a dead enemy on him, and stink of death for a bit--- there is something nice about being cared for. His eyes are closed, but he can still imagine how you look. You’re annoyed, but still gentle.

“Thankfully, most of it splashed on your armour,” you say, “so I won’t have to wash your underclothes.”

He hums at that, unsure of how to bridge the fact that you would be the one to take on a servant’s labour. But for him, Zenos has to accept, you would debase yourself quite a bit. 

Still, no further than he is to debase himself. He is the one kneeling, let’s not forget.

You are painfully thorough, despite the softness of your palm on his face. Zenos is unnerved, of course, by what he does not understand and yet the feeling never passes into unpleasantness. He feels cared for, for a change. He cannot remember the last time he felt such a way.

“Let me have a look at you,” you coo, putting your hand under his chin and turning it to yours. His eyes are still closed, you dab at the water on his face and brush his hair back from his forehead.

He’s greeted by your fond gaze when he finally opens his eyes. Zenos stares back, on his knees and captivated by how beautiful you can look in the afterglow of conflict. He will be sorry to see it carelessly discarded.

“That’s better,” you praise, “you’re back to your handsome self.”

“I beg to differ,” he says, impish and sly like a fox. “I preferred how I looked before your meddling.”

“Well, that wasn’t your choice,” you remind him. He huffs. “Kneel by the bedside, my love. I’ll join you in a bit when I’m clean.”

He wants to make more of a fuss than he does. But Zenos knows better than to protest your wishes in this respect, he’s learned through much trial and error to trust your command. You alone have earned the right to order him about.

He rises easily from the floor, towering over you with a menacing look on his face. But he does as he’s told, kneeling next to the low bed in an attempt to earn the favour of his only friend.

As much as he’s been told he already has your favour, he still doubts as much on occasion. You wash your face in the same water. The act is almost shockingly intimate, and you don’t need to lay a finger on him at all.

“Clothes off,” you order in a very quiet voice. He takes that as gospel.

His linen tunic is nearly ripped off, tugged over his shoulders quickly enough to fray fabric. Zenos gives as much time to his underclothes as he does his shirt, casting them aside quickly while you rid yourself of blood.

You look so small without your armour. Almost slight. But still poised and graceful, bending before the water basin with a delicate curve of your back. You pat your face dry and look at him over your shoulder, beaming broadly.

“That is so much better,” you comment.

“Now will you join me?” he asks like it’s been ages since you sent him away. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I suppose,” you concede. 

With a toss of your hair, you move to him. Your hips sway and carnal delight blooms in his eyes. Your shift, dotted with oxidized blood is pulled just as sharply off of you, leaving you just as bare. 

Hatred almost leaps in him, in sharp contrast to that ever-present love. You know he still sees you as half a rival, flaring equal parts rage and adoration in his crowded chest. For a man with few opportunities to feel, he does so in both lavish and terrifying ways.

“We are no longer in battle,” you remind him, “where is that contented look I saw before?”

“You attempt to get a rise from me,” he deadpans, still on his knees. His clean face nuzzles against your bare stomach once you’re close enough. Zenos kisses just below your navel, his teeth graze your skin gently.

“Absolutely,” you reply, tilting his chin up until his eyes are fixed on yours. “Come now, aren’t you the least bit happy?”

“I am,” he sighs after a longer pause than you expected. You dip your head, catching his lips in a warm and bloodless kiss.

You seize his hair very suddenly, pulling him back and making him hiss with delight. You tug his head forward, widening your stance just enough that he can catch a glimpse between your legs.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” you tell him, “would you like to get a bit closer?”

“Yes,” he exhales, leaning towards the hairline fracture like a man starved. You let go, allowing him to crash forward against your thighs.

He curls in on himself, arching his back so he’s low enough to reach. To touch the tip of his tongue against where you are most sensitive. 

You gasp, the sound is heavenly and his hands rise to your hips. He grips you tight, tight enough to border on pain. You tug on his hair in retaliation, which only makes him moan against your clit. There is violence in the way he loves, you’ve more than accepted it.

“Gentle,” you tut, he doesn’t pay attention.

You are prey, he reminds himself. Even as he’s on his knees, devouring you with the bed of his tongue. You are just prey. Prey who hooks their knee over his broad shoulder, granting him unfettered access to your warmth.

His eyes close, lost in the sensation of trying to bring pleasure to his greatest enemy. But also to his closest friend. Zenos cannot deny his wish to do right by you as the tip of his tongue follows the petals of your inner labia. You shiver against him, a beautiful feeling.

“Yes, yes,” you’ve taken to sighing. He wants to hear it louder. 

The hate is home to him, the want to sink his teeth into your sensitive flesh until he tastes blood is like an echo. A memory, a way to control an uncertain situation. But more inviting is your breathless gasp, your hands in his hair that go slack and soft.

You hold the back of his head, cradling him without pushing too hard. You only ask to be served, even when you seem to command. And Zenos knows, before anyone else, you deserve his compliance. 

Whispered encouragement does wonders. He settles in more bodily, licking and prodding and taking of your sex with his seeking tongue. His cock, hard and proud against his thigh is mostly ignored, but for a few tugs every now and again.

You notice, you do, but you allow it. Zenos fought well today.

“Enough,” you whisper when it isn’t true. You could demand more of him, but you can tell by the way his eyes squeeze shut that his jaw is beginning to ache. You step back, careful when unhooking your leg and using his shoulders to steady yourself.

He opens his eyes, licking his lips with a fox-like satisfaction. You take his face again in your hands and put your thumbs to the hinge of his jaw. Rubbing slow circles where the mild ache blooms, Zenos registers after a moment that you are speaking.

“You are improving, hunter,” you whisper. He nods, the gesture more adorable than you’re sure he would be comfortable with.

“As is evidenced by your mewling,” he drawls, looking pleased with himself. He’s more than earned it. You steal another kiss, just at the corner of his mouth and he falls silent.

Love is a strange thing. Zenos isn’t certain that this is it, either. But your careful touches and devious smiles feel so new, so foreign that it cannot be anything else. The hate runs thick, yes, and he indulges it for its familiarity. But it is your love that sets him alight.