Mortal Kombat X Reader Lemons

Sorcerers's Eternal Vigour ☆ Shang Tsung

You've been aware of Shang Tsung shutting himself away for days on end before but, this time, he won't let you in on his project. He always tells you about his findings when you bring him tea or come back from an 'extermination'. Not this time.

The scent that erupts from under his door is sugar sweet but, also, floral and earthy. Sweet tends to suggest his work with advanced aphrodisiacs and strong pheromones but this smells different. It smells...alien.

It's about a month after this all started, when you bring Shang his evening tea. He stares endlessly at scrolls and books and pages with indistinguishable symbols that make your eyes go blurry. You set down the tray of two cups, a pot of ginger tea and a bowl of homemade boiled sweets from the market. Recently, he's been shoeing you out. Not today.
"Evening, master. Am I to leave your study again, today?" You ask and he shakes his head, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk.
"You make it sound like I've neglected you for years." He chides and you raise a brow.
"It feels like you have, sorcerer." You bite back and he smirks, plucking the teapot from the tray and pouring the both of you some tea. When he places down the pot, he points to a scroll with a flourish.
"Oh! You see on this page? They explain the magic behind different soul phylacteries. How they operate. I thought you might be interested." Your eyes are drawn to the scroll but you catch his hand moving out of the corner of your eye. An indigo power is sprinkled into the tea on your side of the tray by his soft, delicate fingers. You know this game.
"I'm rather tired from today, master. My eyes have gone bleary." You reach for your tea, picking up the tea on his side of the tray and taking a sip. Ginger tea, as you always make it. His eyes go wide and you look up at him expectantly. "Are you not drinking, master?" You ask, pushing the clay cup, meant for you, toward him. "Please drink, master. I haven't seen you eat or drink anything I've made for you recently. Maybe I should check you over--"
"No, I assure you; I'm perfectly fine." He bites back, hesitantly picking up the cup and drinking down the contents. He swallows and places the cup back on the table, folding his legs and placing his lap.
"Are you going to let me in on that secret of yours yet?" You ask playfully, now that the spiked tea business is out of the way. He can't answer, for some reason, his words dying in his throat as he shudders, hands braced against the desk. "Master! Master, are you alright?" You ask, standing and placing your hand on his shoulder but he jerks away, unbuttoning the ties across his chest and parting his top robes. Anxiety locks around your chest as you stand, unable to do anything but watch. A splash of red spreads across his neck and shoulders, creeping up his face as his clawed hand draws gouges into the hardwood. Then, his hands go slack as he scrambles for purchase on something, anything, but his fingers just give-way. His palms go to hold his side, wriggling away from your sight as he goes. "Master, let me help." You plead and he shakes his head as a heat blooms in his chest. You watch his thighs slowly part open, his cock already hard and waiting.

The sorcerer inhales a stuttering breath, shoving off his clothes until they rest in a pool, on the chair. His body is painted with these red blotches, only just visible in the caramel-hue of his skin. A thin sheen of sweat has broken out across his skin, making him glitter under the light of the candles. He curls up into his chair, shaking like a frightened child.
"What are these? What did you take?" You go to his desk, throwing open drawers and rifling through papers. He mumbles something incoherent so you rush over. "Speak up, Master."
"Qǐng... Bù jìn..." He murmurs, his hands pressed to his lips. He knows you barely understand his native tongue but you still approach with your hands up and open to show you mean no harm.
"I'm trying to help." You explain, brows knitted. Maybe you shouldn't have taken the wrong teacup. Your fingertips brush his bare shoulder and he nearly leaps out of his skin.
"Please! I'm yours! Dài wǒ, yòng wǒ...!" He demands, grasping your wrist and forcing your palm against his throat.
"Before I do that, I need to know you're safe." You state and he whines, painted fingernails digging bruises into your wrist. "Now, explain what you took. Deep breaths."
"New aphrodisiac mixture... Made it for you... Wanted to see if it would work... S-Safe..." He pants and you nod.