Curate, connect, and discover
prompt: "you don't want me? don't lie to me."
pairing: kang the conqueror x (f)reader
word count: 559
warnings: eighteen+ content, spoilers for quantumania, implied smut, kang being kang, my usual poetic flare.
note: shoutout to my bby @tom-whore-dleston for giving me even more of an excuse to write for this hunk of a man, i may have reworked your req and made it so reader took janets place with the whole 'fix my ship' storyline, so i hope that's ok!
“You don’t belong here.” The stark contrast between the heat from his gloves and the heat of your skin makes you shiver as he runs a finger along your jawline. His face so close to yours that you can see just how deep the scars that mark his face run. How dark and rigid they are against his skin.
You wish it would make your stomach curdle.
Wish it wasn’t making more questions and feelings start in your belly and go lower. Further into a region that has become too accustomed to stories of greatness and realities of time you can only dream of seeing, to offer you more than this realm you've reluctantly made your home. Your body has grown accustomed to his longing glances over a new discovery, the grazes of fingers when you're working together, his mission—his presence—giving you a purpose. Something you hadn't felt in years until he came into your life.
Until he crashed and landed, lost and bruised, just like you.
Until he lit a fire in your blood, making you feel cloudy and irrational in your thinking, urging you to go down a path from which you may never be able to return.
“Come with me.”
“I–”
“You can.” He finishes for you. Smothers any words of protest or conflict with the look he’s giving you. With the way he’s touching you so gently, so unlike the conqueror you’ve seen from his mind.
The very thing that gives you pause. Reason to recoil from him even when you don’t.
Instead, there's an ache between your legs that keeps you immobile against him. Keeps you in his clutches, in his trance.
“There is nothing here for you.” His fingers leave your jaw, move across your collarbone, and down your chest, leaving you breathless the lower they go. “I can give you everything. Show you infinite realities. "Give you everything you've ever wanted," he says, his palm splaying just below your belly button. Your nails dig into the tethers of your makeshift home, to keep yourself from falling completely in his arms, hands—to your knees from his promises. "All those images of me you've played in your head at night when you think no one can hear the noises you make," his lips feather-like against your ear. “Come true.”
Embarrassment stings your chest. Sends your insides in a twist and pull against each other as your head shakes. A denial at the tip of your tongue, ready to end this and be done with it all. To send him on his way, away from your home, away from you and the temptation he’s luring you into, like an unsuspecting traveler falling into a sinkhole they’ll never get out of.
“You don’t want me?” He tsks, smirks against your ear. His voice low and authoritative: “Don’t lie to me. It will only take longer to get what we both want.” His hand moves across your clothed mound, fingers putting the lightest of pressures on your pelvis that has your hips moving forward involuntarily.
“Join me, and I’ll give you everything.” His mouth finds yours. Seals your fate with his tongue, giving way to every promise he’s willing to keep if you take his hand and watch beside him as he wins a war he’s ultimately made you a part of.
As he burns the world.