(Medicine Seller x Reader)
He never liked traveling without you.
But this particular mononoke had surfaced inside the corridors of a brothel at the edge of a trade town, and while you had insisted on accompanying him, he’d stroked your cheek with one of those wistful, little smiles.
“This one shouldn’t take long” he had said.
“Besides… it isn’t a place befitting my wife’s presence.”
You’d felt the sting of reluctance when he pressed his lips to your hand, and even though you smiled… you could see it in his eyes too that faint flicker that said he didn’t actually want to leave you behind.
The brothel was loud. Painted lips and swaying hips, women draped over patrons, the stench of cheap perfume clinging to his layered kimono. They offered themselves freely, fingers curling over his sleeve whenever he passed. Lovely smiles, graceful necks tilted in invitations—but they didn’t have your scent, didn’t have your gentle cleverness or the quiet warmth in your touch.
he didn’t want them.
he fulfilled his duty with precise detachment. Unveiled the Mononoke’s form, delivered its end and when the cleanup required him to stay in the brothel for a week more (precaution, always precaution)… that’s when it really began to ache.
The nights were unbearable.
He stayed in a separate room, lying stiffly on futons that weren’t warmed by your body. The sound of laughter and flesh wetly slapping against flesh bled through thin walls almost every night. He sat with his arms folded in his sleeve, golden eyes half-lidded—and tried not to imagine you beneath him, soft and pliant, fingers tangled in his hair.
Every little sigh outside made his jaw clench. Every teasing giggle and drag of fabric reminded him of your teasing tone and the way you’d ghost your fingertips over his shoulder just to watch him tense. He imagined your thighs bracketing his hips and wondered how he ever endured years of solitude before you.
He dreamed of you that night. The taste of your skin, the way your fingers tugged at his hair when you were impatient, your teasing words spoken too close to his ear just to feel his breath catch, and he woke up half-hard and aching.
He didn’t touch himself. That would feel too much like settling.
He waited.
He always waited for you.
By the end of the week, he couldn’t stand it.
He left the brothel as dawn broke, the sky a dull watercolor— returning home faster than reason permitted, sleeves fluttering behind him as though the wind itself was impatient.
When the wooden doors of your shared home slid open, you startled from your book—and that’s when he finally exhaled.
You raised a brow, arms folded across your chest. “Back already? My, am I that irreplaceable? I assumed you’d have plenty of company.”
The dryness in your tone made his stomach twist. His fingers flexed at his side.
“Don’t tease” he muttered, words slightly rough. “Not when I’ve been trying to keep myself from thinking about you every night.”
He had expected the teasing—that little mischievous curl of your lips, the lilt in your voice that always meant you were playing with him— but the way your eyes narrowed when you said “plenty of company” held no playfulness.
It looked like hurt.
His breath caught, sharp and unexpected.
“…You’re not joking?” he asked quietly and gods, the uncertainty in his voice was so unfamiliar it startled even you. He looked almost… wounded. “You think I would let those women touch me?”
You tried (unsuccessfully) to keep your voice light. “Well it is a brothel… and you were gone for a whole week—”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
His tone cut through the air like a blade unsheathed. Soft… but dangerously direct.
You blinked, startled at the sudden seriousness and he stepped closer, expression unreadable.
“You really thought I might forget you that easily.”
His voice was so calm that it made your chest ache. No anger ,only a quiet disbelief. You tried to look away from his golden gaze, but he caught your chin between his fingers, forcing you to meet his stare.
“I spent every night there wishing it was your voice I heard outside my door” he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I covered my ears because it made me furious, listening to other men enjoy the kind of touch I only want from you.”
Your eyes widened just slightly and he tilted his head, studying every flicker of emotion crossing your features.
“…You were truly upset by it” he whispered, almost to himself as though he was just now realizing it. A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. “Jealous… my wife was jealous…”
You huffed, immediately flustered, trying to shove his chest with your palm. “Don’t say it like that—”
Warm amusement flickered in his golden eyes.
“Oh…” he said softly, leaning in. “Is that why you’re so... Hm? Because you were jealous?”
You sputtered out a half-protest and stepped back and he followed, like a predator having finally cornered its prey.
“You should’ve seen yourself just now,” he murmured, slipping a hand to the small of your back, forcing you closer. “Frowning at me. Doubting me. Mmm… adorable.”
Your heart jumped at the low rumble in his voice.
“And to think… I spent all those nights aching for you only to return home and find you pouting like a little wife who thinks her husband has been unfaithful.”
He tsked. “How cruel.”
You scowl at him cheeks turning warm. “Stop teasing me—”
“Why?”
His hand curved over your hip.
“Earlier…” his mouth brushed against your ear, voice husky “you seemed perfectly willing to tease me.”
You felt a shiver dart down your spine.
He pulled back enough to look at you again, satisfaction glinting in his gaze as your breath hitched. But then his fingers softened against your waist, and his tone turned warm, sincere.
“…I never expected you would feel jealous” he admitted quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “You always seemed so… confident in where you stand with me.”
His gaze softened a little more and then he leaned in, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.
“I am yours” he murmured against your mouth. “Entirely. Please don’t doubt that again.”
“…But,” he whispered, breath ghosting hotly over your skin, “since you decided to sulk and provoke me… it is only fair I remind you of all the things those women could never do to me.”
Your lips parted but whatever you were about to say ended in a gasp as he suddenly swept you off your feet, carrying you deeper into the room with surprisingly little effort.
“Let’s begin” he purred, lowering you slowly onto the futon. “After all… I have an entire week’s worth of restraint to make up for.”
He set you down on the futon and for a second your heartbeat nearly drowned out your own thoughts.
Before you could shift or speak, he straightened back up fingers slipping beneath the layers of his kimono and tugging each piece loose with practiced ease.
The fabric slid from his shoulders with a soft rustle.
You were definitely trying to be smug to keep that little pout on your face but your gaze moved over his body before you could stop yourself.
His lips quirked, eyes lidded as he slowly undid the final tie at his waistband. “Stare all you want… I’ve missed the way you look at me.”
The last layer pooled at his feet.
He stood there in front of you, loose hair framing his sharp jaw, golden eyes burning with something dark and soft all at once, before leaning down, slipping a hand behind your neck and pulling you forward gently. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a heartbeat… then sat down beside you.
“Go on” he murmured, voice a little lower than before. “Do whatever you want to me.”
Your breath caught. The sudden permission, the blatant submission, made heat bloom straight through your chest. Your usual teasing words died on your tongue, replaced by a soft, overwhelmed little sound.
Slowly… you reached forward and hugged him instead—arms wrapping around his bare torso, face half-buried against his shoulder.
Then a low, warm chuckle slipped from his throat. His chest vibrated against you.
“Ah… is that it?” he hummed, amusement and fondness dripping from every syllable. His arms came up around you, holding you gently but securely.
Your cheeks burned. You didn’t answer, only pressed yourself deeper into his embrace like you were trying to melt into his skin.
He kissed the top of your head, smiling against your hair.
“Very well” he whispered softly, letting his hand slide up and down your back in slow, comforting strokes. “Then I’ll take the lead.”
He tipped your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss that was far slower than before less demanding, more… reverent.
As though he had all the time in the world to take you apart.
You reach up to tug lightly at his hair, trying to deepen the kiss but he pulls back instead, just far enough to leave your lips chasing after his. A small, pleased sound slips out of him at the sight of it.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he trails his fingertips down your throat. “You look rather needy.”
You glare at him through the flush on your cheeks. “Don’t… tease me.”
“Oh?”
He tilts his head, letting his thumb brush over your collarbone. “But my love always teases me.”
You open your mouth to retort only for him to lean in and press a slow, feather-light kiss against the corner of your mouth. Too soft. Not nearly enough.
He hums in acknowledgment… and proceeds to kiss your jaw instead of your lips.
“Say” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, “how does it feel? Hm? Being made to wait for a proper kiss?”
You swallow hard. “You’re doing this… on purpose.”
“Of course I am,” he answers, softer now his lips grazing your ear. “it’s only fair, isn’t it?”
He drags his mouth slowly down the side of your neck, tongue flicking lightly over your pulse. Your hips twitch involuntarily. He notices and gives a low hum of satisfaction.
“Husband,” you breathe, gripping his shoulder. “Please don’t tease—”
He pauses and finally looks at you, expression dark with delight. “wife, so sweet when you say please.”
Your cheeks burn even more and you start to look away, embarrassed. But his hand slips under your chin, turning your face back toward him.
“No hiding.” His thumb brushes your lower lip, voice dropping again. “You’re beautiful when you beg.”
You let out a soft, helpless sound and that cracks any patience he had left.
His lips crash against yours in a hot, breath-stealing kiss all restrained frustration melting into hunger. His hand slides up the back of your thigh, hooking it over his own hip and pressing his body fully against you. You can feel how hard he is how much he’d been suffering without you and the groan he makes when you grind up against him is borderline feral.
“You—” he growls into your mouth, “—do that again and I won’t be gentle.”
Your fingers tighten in his hair. “Maybe I don’t want you to be.”
He laughs a low, rough sound and grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head against the futon in one fluid movement.
“Very well” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Then endure it.”
He bares his teeth against your neck, kissing and biting down the slope of your throat until you’re trembling, gasping beneath him. Your wrists flex in his grasp but he doesn’t let go keeping you pinned with one hand while the other trails down your stomach, pushing fabric aside until he reaches the heat between your thighs.
“Ah—already wet…?” His voice is silky and wickedly soft. “Even after begging me not to tease?”
You bury your face against his shoulder ,mortified and he chuckles darkly.
“There you go again. Hiding.”
He drags a single slow finger along your slick folds light, barely there, just enough to make you arch up with a desperate little whine.
“Shhh…”
He kisses the corner of your eye, soothing and cruel all at once.
“I’ll give you what you want. In a moment. After I enjoy this.”
He rubs slow, maddening circles against your clit, watching your eyes flutter and your lips part as you moan for him. Every time you try to push your hips forward, he pulls his hand away just barely a firm warning in his gaze.
“Be patient” he murmurs. “Let me enjoy my wife properly.”
Each word sinks into your skin like heat.
Then he lowers his head and replaces his fingers with his mouth.
The sudden wet warmth against your clit makes you cry out, your wrists struggle instinctively against his grip as his tongue moves, deliberate and slow, tasting every bit of you. He groans into you, as though relieved, as if he’s finally found the thing he’d been craving this entire week.
“So sweet…” he breathes against you. “I’ve missed this taste so much…”
You whimper his name again and again, hips shaking. Every time you get close, he slows down lifting his head just enough to watch your face twist in frustrated pleasure.
“Sensitive little thing” he purrs, eyes devouring you. “Should I keep teasing? Or—”
He lets go of your wrists and shifts up, gripping your thighs hard as he lines himself up. His breathing is ragged, strained.
“You want it that badly?” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours.
He thrusts into you in one deep, slow push and the sound that falls from his lips is pure relief. His hand laces into your hair as he groans against your mouth, hardly able to hold back.
“So warm— gods— I almost forgot how good this feels—”
You cling to him, legs wrapping tight around his waist and that’s all it takes for him to lose the last fragment of restraint.
He pulls out and thrusts again with a sharp snap of his hips, deep and rough and perfect. Your head falls back and he follows, lips capturing every moan, every shaken gasp.
“You feel so good… always… always,” he pants, thrusts growing faster. “Mine— all… mine—”
Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you cry out his name, body trembling under the onslaught. His pace doesn’t slow—in fact it grows more intense, more desperate, like he needs to fill every inch of you to convince himself you’re truly here.
“This– is– what– you– do– to– me” he groans between thrusts, punctuating each word with another deep push. “Drive me insane — and then… pretend to be innocent—“
You can’t even answer your cries turning breathless as pleasure coils tight in your stomach.
He feels you tightening around him and curses softly against your lips.
“Come for me” he whispers, voice rough. “Right now. Let me feel it—”
You shatter with a keening moan, body clenching around him in waves.
Your orgasm crashes over you in wave after wave, eyes fluttering shut as your back arches off the futon but his hand suddenly grabs your chin, firm and unyielding, keeping your face turned toward him.
The words are hoarse almost desperate.
You force your eyes open, dazed and half-gone from pleasure… and meet his gaze.
Golden. Intense. Completely locked onto you.
The instant your gaze meets his pupils blown wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy from the force of your climax — you watch his own composure shatter.
he groans, hips stuttering. “Don’t look at me like that—”
You’re still trembling unable to speak and that only makes his breath break harder. He snaps his hips forward once, twice, driving himself deep and holding you there, forehead pressed against yours.
“—eyes on me—” he pants, almost begging now, “keep looking— keep—”
And the moment your lashes flutter and a soft, breathless “hah…” spills from your lips eyes utterly ruined and fixed on his, he spills inside you with a harsh, full-bodied groan.
He keeps you pinned, trembling with the force of it and the whole time, he never breaks eye contact.
As though the sight of your flushed, fucked-out face is the only thing capable of dragging him over the edge.
he thrusts a few more times, chasing his own release before burying himself deep with a tremor and a low “—ah, fuck—”
He doesn’t pull out right away.
Instead, he lets himself slowly sink down onto his elbows still inside you, still catching his breath , nd gathers you fully into his arms. One arm slips under your shoulders, the other cradles your thigh around his waist, keeping you impossibly close as though any distance would hurt.
You exhale a shaky little breath against his neck.
He presses his lips to your temple eyes closing for a long moment, and just holds you there. No words. Just the sound of your heartbeat against his chest and the quiet way his fingers trace slow, soothing circles into your spine.
When your breathing finally steadies, you shift slightly but his arms tighten instantly, locking around you.
“…Don’t move” he murmurs. It’s not a command it’s a plea. Low, quiet… almost fragile.
You blink up at him, startled by the rawness in his voice.
His gaze is softer now. The golden in his eyes melts into pure warmth as he looks over your flushed face, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye, as though still trying to convince himself this isn’t another lonely dream.
“I need to feel you a little longer” he whispers, pulling you even closer until your chests are perfectly flush. “I… don’t want to let go yet.”
You bring your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
A shaky breath leaves him and he holds you tighter. Like you’re the one thing keeping him grounded. His nose presses into your hair as he murmurs:
“…I missed you more than I can say.”
You smile into his skin fingers brushing through his hair. “I know. I missed you too.”
At that, he releases a long, quiet breath and relaxes, but never loosens his hold. He keeps you close, bodies still joined, lips occasionally brushing your forehead or cheek… as if he needs to taste the reassurance over and over again.
Minutes pass in comfortable silence before his voice quietly breaks it.
“…I’m never taking another mission without you.”
You shift pressing a soft kiss just below his jaw.
“Good,” you whisper. “Because I wouldn’t let you.”
His heartbeat has finally begun to steady against yours when you tilt your head up and kiss the corner of his mouth.
The kiss deepens slowly, languid and warm, his palm sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He keeps kissing you again…and again… and again like he isn’t satisfied until he’s tasted every sigh from your lips.
Even when your breaths turn sleepy and your limbs begin to grow heavy, he still steals another kiss, whispering a quiet “just one more” only for it to melt into another, and another, as though he physically can’t stop.
Eventually you shift your mouth away from his… and drag your lips down to his jaw instead. He shivers but doesn’t stop you. In fact, he tilts his head back a little, offering his throat.
“Go on,” he murmurs, the barest hint of a smirk curling at his mouth. “Mark me.”
You press a kiss beneath his ear. Then another, lower… until your teeth sink gently into the soft skin of his neck.
He lets out a low, pleased sound arm tightening around your waist as he exhales shakily. “Mn… that’s it… don’t hold back.”
Sleepy and warm and a little smug, you leave another bite just below the first then soothe it with kisses, admiring the way his chest rises and falls harder beneath you.
You press another soft kiss beneath his ear and then bite down a little harder, leaving a vivid little mark against his pale skin.
His breath catches and his hips jerk forward with a sudden, uncontrolled thrust.
The movement knocks a startled gasp from your lips, your nails instinctively digging into his shoulders as you feel him rut up into you again like his body simply can’t help it.
Golden eyes flare open, heavy with reawakened need. He cups the back of your head and pulls you down roughly to meet his mouth kissing you with so much hunger it steals what little breath you had left.
You barely get a faint whimper out before he’s rolling his hips again, thrusting into you with slow but deep strokes each one knocking another little sound from your throat.
“You know what it does to me when you mark my skin—” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and dangerous.
You tremble trying to form words, but all that comes out is a shaky little moan as he rocks into you harder.
Then he suddenly dips down, mouth slanting against your throat.
You barely have time to gasp before he bites not enough to hurt, but hard enough to sting.
Your head snaps back with a cry spine arching automatically as his teeth sink lovingly into your neck.
He groans at the way your body reacts, lips dragging down to soothe the mark with slow kisses before latching onto another spot and sucking deliberately, sending a heated pulse straight down your spine.
You squirm beneath him half wild and helpless, hands flying up to clutch at his hair.
He only growls softly and keeps going thrusts growing slow and maddeningly deep as he covers your throat in possessive marks.
He ruts deeper with each thrust, lips hot against your neck, words turning into a broken moans on your tongue. Every roll of his hips is slow but hard, like he’s trying to fill every inch of you, imprint himself inside you after all that time apart.
And then his pace starts to stutter a ragged gasp escaping his throat as your walls tighten around him.
You feel him twitch deep inside you—once… twice…
He thrusts up sharply and stays there, buried to the hilt as a deep, strangled groan rips from his chest. His fingers dig into your hip and you feel it—hot and thick, spilling inside you in long, intense pulses.
He trembles, chest flushed, eyes half-lidded—and you think he’s finished…
…but after only a heartbeat, another pulse floods into you again.
Your eyes widen, breath hitching. “Ah!—”
He swallows hard—golden eyes barely focused, but he catches your reaction and gives a soft, shaky little laugh.
“What’s the matter…?” he breathes, voice dark and breathless as another wave spills into you. “You… said not to tease… so—ha— I won’t pull out.”
Your breath catches when his hips roll forward again still emptying himself inside you with slow, tiny thrusts like he’s trying to push it deeper.
He groans at the sensation lashes fluttering, clearly still coming.
“I warned you…” he pants softly, pressing a kiss to your jaw as warmth keeps flooding into you, “a week without you… left me far too full…”
You can only gasp overwhelmed at how much there is, you can practically feel it pooling inside and it makes you shiver, your fingers gripping his shoulders tight.
Finally, after one long, drawn-out breath , his hips still.
But he doesn’t move away.
He stays inside. Hands sliding up to cup your face, keeping your eyes locked on his as he presses the softest kiss to your lips… another… and another… all while you’re still trembling from how much he gave you.
“…That’s better,” he whispers, eyes warm and a little smug as he watches you blink up at him dazed and flustered. His thumb strokes your cheek.
“You look perfect like this” he murmurs, voice low. “Full of me.”
He leans in, kissing you deeply once more before pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours still keeping you pinned beneath him as though he’s nowhere near ready to let go.
And with the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth, he adds in a soft murmur, almost amused,
“…Hnn. I might… still have more.”
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