#tw sadomasochism

[edengarden]

Manhandling

Synopsis: Caesar pushes you a little too far. You (have no choice but to) retaliate.

Pairing: Caesar x gn!reader

Warnings:  profanity, (sensitive) horn grabbing, Caesar gets a lil too hot and bothered, reader has grabbable hair, reader’s kinda mean to him (please treat the meow meow with care). Caesar says “ma’am” once. Sadomasochism.

WARNING: THIS IS HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE. Read at your own risk.

Notes: I was chatting with @lairu while she was drawing Caesar’s 100% expression for the blushing meme, and this is what came of it! Enjoy!

The copy-pasting process from google docs was a little messy so please notify me if the paragraphs aren’t showing in the right order!

You’d like to say that you had developed a certain sort of tolerance for Caesar’s antics. You’d like to say that you’ve gotten used to it, that you know how the story goes. That you can handle it and find ways to avoid his eccentricity. The truth is, Caesar seems to find some twisted pleasure in catching you off-guard and annoying the ever loving shit out of you. Which you had at some point wished you could reciprocate; you were more than ready to stoop down to his level. However, any attention seems to be good attention for Caesar. And while you were prepared to get on his nerves, you weren’t ready to give him what he was so obstinately begging for at the moment. 

Which is how you ended up here. About to reach your damn limit with him while he pressed all the right buttons to piss you off. You had given up on taking deep, calming sighs a while back. 

Caesar slapped your work right out of your hands as if he were swatting away a pesky fly. “You know what you have to do,” he insisted, leaning over your shoulder, taunting you. There was no way in hell you’d actually entertain him and his constant need for attention. Because once you started, there was no stopping. You’d be stuck with his annoying ass until he deemed it was time for him to go. Which usually takes a long fucking time to occur. And there’s no shaking off once you participate in his games. So, you did the next best thing. 

Silently, you got up to your feet, brushed yourself off, and walked right around him. If you walked far enough, maybe you could leave the room and get to another one. A lockable one. However, Caesar had other plans. While you expected him to object to your taking off, you hadn’t planned for him to grab the hair from the back of your head to keep you right where you were. 

Your reaction was instantaneous. You weren’t going to sit around and let some attention-starved man drag you around by the hair as if your job was to entertain him. It was all too embarrassing to let him do something like that to you. So, with a quick hand, you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard enough for him to let go of your hair. You turned on your heels and, focused on giving him a taste of his own medicine, your hand that wasn’t currently letting go of his wrist reached up to grab at the base of his horn. You sneered at him as you pushed him backwards until his back crashed against the wall. Caesar let out a pathetic yelp as you kept him trapped  between you and the wall, his shoulders tensing and his head tilting, trying to ease the pressure you put on his horn.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you ruffian?!” He cried out, as if he weren’t in one great, big self-dug grave. You couldn’t even take him seriously; not with the way your grip on his horn was obviously affecting him. Flushed, tense, nearly hyperventilating, dilated pupils and upturned eyebrows. The touch, as well as the sudden domineering attitude you put forth was doing things to him and maybe you’d have taken notice of it if you weren’t as pissed off as you currently were. Still, he somehow found the audacity to speak as if he hadn’t brought this upon himself. 

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” you practically spat at him, pulling on his horn. Caesar let out a pathetic whimper when his head was forced back a little. Had you been in your right mind, maybe you’d have felt a little bad for him. Or maybe you’d have noticed that he had melted into your touch a little, as if he were enjoying the brutal way you were handling him at the moment. “But you do not get to fucking manhandle me around as if I’m merely here for your entertainment. Am I clear?” 

Caesar’s chest was heaving up and down as his breathing had yet to calm down a little. He wasn’t in the right mindset to fully understand what you were saying, but you weren’t in the right mindset to comprehend that. So, instead, you gave another harsh tug on his horn. His knees buckled as he yelped. One of his hands came to weakly grasp at your wrist. “Please..!” He whimpered. The touch seemed to bring you back a little and you lessened the pressure. 

“I said; am I clear?” You repeated. You’d gone this far; the least you could hope for is that this would at least bear fruit in some way. Caesar tried to nod, but was unable to do so. You still wanted an answer from him. “Am I clear?” 

“Yes..!” He quickly replied, most likely saying this to save his skin more than anything else. You weren’t having that. You needed more confirmation of his understanding. So, shifting your hand down on his horn to firmly grasp it at the very base, where you supposed it was attached to his skull, you growled out a ‘yes, what?’. You’d expected him to confirm that he wouldn’t treat you like crass anymore. “Yes, ma’am!” He whined. His back slid down on the wall a little as his knees seemed to give out. His eyebrows scrunched together in some odd semblance of pain, though he seemed quite far from actually suffering. 

You hadn’t expected that type of response, and you were a bit scared of the reaction it internally coaxed. Out of shock, you withdrew from him completely, frowning in slight confusion at him. “Just don’t treat me like that again.” You replied. You took a few steps away from him as Caesar tried to gain his bearings. He pressed a gloved hand to his face, as if trying to gauge how flushed he was at the moment, despite, well, wearing a glove and knowing it would prevent him from feeling temperature altogether. Though from the fact that he didn’t seem all that far from sweating, it should be enough of a sign for him to realize that he was incredibly red at the moment. He looked down at you with dilated pupils and slightly upturned eyebrows. His eyes were a bit foggy; not quite all there yet. 

“You, uh…” He huffed out, catching his breath a little. He was still leaning against the wall. Now that you were a bit calmer, you couldn’t believe what you’ve done to him. The extent to which you… influenced him. That sort of power made you feel… good. Were you not a decent person, you might have tried it again on him, right now. 

Instead, you decided to flee before Caesar could convince you to give in to your impulses. 

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #caesar clown #caesar clown x reader #one piece caesar clown #tw suggestive #tw sadomasochism #one piece x gn reader #caesar clown x gn reader #x reader #x gn reader

[lovesickrobotic]

NSFW GLaDOS Headcanons 2

The reckoning. >:3c

Will stroke you if you stroke her ego. Tell her how gorgeous she is, tell her how scared of her power you are, how small you are. Make yourself pathetic in comparison and she will focus on making you know it by how hard she fucks your senses out of you.

Expect medplay, chemplay, consensual drugging, experiments... GLaDOS is a woman of many talents, truly, and she has every intention of making you the hamster in the wheel of every last one of them. If you cum once and think you're done, you're in for a very sour surprise.

Expect to be squished. She doesn't have boots, but she has panels. She won't hurt you, but there's something viscerally appealing to her about having your life between her panels as she fucks you hard enough to feel your muscles tighten against inescapable walls. It's like bondage, the way she encapsulates you. Cat and mouse.

#glados x reader #portal 2 #glados #nsft #'w' #tw aphrodisiacs #tw sadomasochism

[killemwithkawaii]

HC that Sal would 100% be into pet play.

Between the constant slurs and his fear of dogs, it just ends up arousing him to no end.

He will also 100% kneel at your feet if you ask him to UWU

This got so much longer than I intended sdlkfald Enjoy UwU 👍💕

Puppy Play with Sal-

[CW: NS/FW (grapefruit), degradation, dumbification, unsanitary]

>See this is what happens when the trauma to kink pipeline is actually a drop slide into a very deep pool lolol

>I love this hc because on one hand, Sal is a self-conscious sweetheart who absolutely deserves the love and praise that a prized housepet would receive, despite him often believing otherwise. Participating in petplay scenes would offer him comfortable surroundings free of judgement, unconditional affection from a trusted source, reassurance that he's wanted and valued for just being himself, and an unwavering sense of safety he doesn't have to work to maintain. Plus, he'd get all of his favorite treats and toys to play with (as long as he acts like the good boy that he is!) 🤗💕

>On the other hand, Sal is intelligent and impressively quick-witted. He has so much on his mind, is always looking out for the next threat, and his go-to defense mechanisms are coming up with complicated schemes, thinking up convincing fibs, or turning the snark up to 11. Constantly having his gears turning like that takes a lot of effort- I say the guy needs a break! Petplay scenes would give Sal some time to turn his brain off, let someone else do the thinking for him, and allow him to just exist in the moment without worrying about what's to come. I can't think of a better way to do that than to turn him into a dumb, drooly puppy whos only responsibility is to follow simple commands and otherwise relax at his S/O/owners feet! (Plus, how fun would it be to see the typically smart-mouthed Sally so deep in subspace that he can't even string a sentence together? It would be adorable and we all know it UwU)

>He has to ease into petplay very gradually and needs a lot of positive reinforcement along the way. It was hard to convince him to try it in the first place, so don't expect him to crawl and bark on the first, or even the fifth go. Baby steps!!

>Slow to start acting the part, but tries his best every time and is a VERY good boy 🥺🏆

>Lapdog4lyfe- he loves laying his head in his owners lap and watching TV with them (though he tends to fall asleep pretty quickly if they start petting him). This would be an excellent starting point for getting him into pet play and/or lulling him into puppy space ✅

>Sal has a very difficult time eating out of a bowl. Hand-feeding is a better option, unless you don't mind half of his meal ending up on the floor and on his face. 🦴

>Likes bath time a lot more than he expected (just be extra careful not to get soap in his eyes or mouth!) 🧼

>His pigtails make PERFECT puppy ears and look SO CUTE swaying side-to-side when he's crawling around on all fours 😭👏💖💖💖

>Drool. Just… so much drool like goddamn someone grab a mop lol

>His gearboy is his favorite toy in or out of puppy mode, so he's not a fan of paw mitts. Only use them if needs a short reminder not to use his hands for 'people things'.

>However, he would not need much convincing to wear a puppy hood and collar, and he might end up adding them into rotation with his other everyday masks if it's comfortable enough. (He already had a gimp hood he wore ironically, so a puppy hood probably wouldn't raise any eyebrows.) 🤷‍♂️

>Sprinkles in a little mild bratting once he's gotten really comfortable with this kind of play (playing keep-away with toys, making a show of doing the opposite of commands, putting one paw on the couch when he's been told he's not allowed on the furniture, etc.). He's just having some fun, but that behavior can be quickly corrected with a good stern look if you're not in the mood to deal with a 'naughty' pup atm. 😠

Obligatory links:

Drawing of Pup!Sal during a rough scene [CW: VERY NS/FW (grapefruit), sadomasochism, injury, blood, unsanitary, degradation, bondage, nudity]

Sal with an S/O who consensually bullies him [CW: NS/FW (grapefruit), sadomasochism, unsanitary, degradation]

#k.e.w.k. writes #danu chan #sal fisher #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x reader #sorry steve #grapefruit #tw unsanitary #tw degradation #tw sadomasochism #tw dumbification #I like how i post almost nothing for a week and then i leave this kind of shit on your dashs out of nowhere dljsakdfj #'HI GUYS LONG TIME NO SEE HOPE UR READY TO GET NASTYYY UWU'

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino headcanons

contains: nsfw themes, noncon, heavy abuse (manipulation, physical violence, sexual exploitation), dehumanization, orgasm control, mind break, dacryphilia, fellatio, sadomasochism, rough sex

yandere valentino

who’s affections are destructive and suffocating; to this egomaniacal mack, you’re no better than his contracted whores. from his hands that paint your skin deep purples and blues to his lips that steal your breath, nothing about val is gentle. yet, even when he sharply pulls your hair and degrades you, you find yourself entranced by him.

who’s malicious and cruel; you’re an object, his personal toy—a fact he won’t let you forget. you eat, sleep, and fuck on his command. he’ll remind you of your place if you so much as blink without his permission. perhaps he’ll have you roughed up a bit by his patrons. they’re sure to fuck some sense into you.

who rewards good behavior with praise and affection. you know you’ve done well when he guides you to your knees, lascivious grin encouraging you to open wide. your stomach twisting in knots when he calls you his good girl while roughly pulling you closer by the hair. dance around his cock with your tongue like he trained you and he may even feel generous enough to return the favor. be careful though, no good deed goes unpunished. he’ll push you to your breaking point, tease you till you’re begging for release only to force climax after climax out of you.

who’s unpredictable; his temper has you feeling unsteady, as if you’re walking on eggshells and broken glass. one moment you’re his treasured toy and the next he has you on the ground, begging for forgiveness as his boots violently meet your sides. you’ll scramble to keep his affections, never having felt so worthless without them. though you are his treasured toy, he’ll never let you forget that toys are replaceable—something that can be broken or thrown away at his discretion. of course, what makes yandere val unique compared to his normal counterpart is that he would never give you away or damage you beyond what can be repaired. his words are empty threats to keep you in line; you’re far more precious than he lets on.

who is vehemenemously possessive; you’re his, don’t forget it. keep your eyes on him unless you want a reminder of what he does to disobedient brats.

who’s merciless; this man relishes in your torment and gets off on your fear. nothing gets him harder than your pained tears as he fucks you too roughly. he delights in your cracked pleas for him to slow down and your fearful shudder as he traces your skin with his teeth. he especially loves provoking you to act out and then punishing you for it. eventually, the pain will become a familiar constant, it may even grow into a guilty pleasure. broken down and reshaped into the perfect toy, he’ll never grow bored of you; you’re stuck as his beloved stress toy for all of eternity.

#yandere valentino #valentino x reader #yandere valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: noncon #tw: emotional abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: physical violence #tw: abuse #tw: overstimulation #tw: mind break #tw: sadomasochism #tw: dacryphilia #mal.mine #mdni #image description in alt #described #gn reader

[aztecbrujeria]

Tw: Blood play, Sadomasochism, Pain, choking, slapping

Writing my Toji-fuckin-you-ontop-of-your-kitchen-table after a fight.

“Ahhhghh, fuck that hurt!”

He grabbed your throat, calloused digits pressing down, as you chuckled at the look on his face as he thrust into your sopping cunt.

Your finger found purchase in one of the wounds he sported that you had failed to sew up. Making him throb and twitch inside of you as the pleasure and pain converged onto him.

You felt him let go to wind up and slap you across the face before his lips crashed against yours desperate for more….

@nkogneatho ♥️

#tw. dark content #Tw. sadomasochism #tw.smut #tw. pain #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji mf fushiguro #fuckin on the dinner table

[quietwingsinthesky]

You have committed crimes against gay people by not writing more wincest porn. Shame on u

alajdjgksjahd see the thing about wincest is that im not particularly compelled to write it because there’s just. a lot. i usually end up writing stuff i can’t read on my own and bless the wincest factories, they pump out content daily of quality i could not match.

#ask #tw incest #i think i have maybe… 3? wincest fics? 1 wincestiel one too. i believe #and those 3 are like. Very Niche. thats why they ended up being written. #god what were they its uhhhhm. Oh yeah. #its the one with the gencest sadomasochism! the one with drunk sam getting taken advantage of by dean with heavy unreliable narrator pov! #and the one where dean feeds sam like a baby bird! not gonna lie i still dont know where that one came from! #same impulse as that donna & ten fic where he shoved his fingers in her mouth to make her vomit up poison probably #weird forms of intimacy my beloved #im not opposed to writing more wincest its just that larger pairings require much more inspiration for me to contribute to them i think

[dullweapons]

ray & sex ( repost from old blog ✨ )

tw / note : talking about sex , sadomasochism , pain , death of a loved one , killing , death , out right violence in a sexual sense & some angst about being immortal in love with a mortal  .  yeah its all sorts of fucked here . but if your muse & ray end up in a sexual relationship & the idea of this kind of sex is something you don’t want ; THATS FINE ! ray nor i will never force anyone into anything they do not wish to do . 

i’ve probably talked about this before but it’s probably old af so lets do it again : ray’s relationship with sex isn’t the best . it is often viewed as a battle in his mind . someone will come out the winning ; dominating the other . akin to animals using sex as a sign of force . that being said , ray would never force anyone into anything they do not wish to . if they don’t want him that's fine . he can find someone else . if they don’t want to try his kinks then they can stay very simple with it . 

he is quite kinky ; bondage is fun , degrading or worshiping is up his alley , he’s even willing to do the odd kinks or fetishes if his partner so wishes him to ⸻ but pain ? PAIN IS PLEASURE . he is quite sadomasochistic . out right torture is pleasing to him . threatening him with violence will only get him excited . 

violence getting connected to sex ISN’T A DEMON THING . dawn shows no signs of enjoying pain like ray does . she doesn’t like getting hurt nor does she enjoying hurting people unless she has to . for ray , the connection happened when he was young . during the ancient battle he meets the equally young annabell . the two did give each other their virginities & ayrin planned to elope . to leave the war efforts as lovers & live a happy life . of course it was not to be as his father uses ayrin to kill annabell ; leaving him to clean up the mess & learn his lesson that connections would make him weak . i think ayrin stayed with her body for a while , holding her back together . kissing her cheeks while he said how sorry he was . that he did truly loved her . 

that moment made the connection . he still found her beautiful . shameful was the thought but it was still there . he kissed her goodbye before choosing to go MIA . 

in romantic sense : ray thinks killing his loved one would be a good thing . he’s not gonna outwardly try to stab them all yandere ⸻ but if you were already dying , he would just kill you quick & painlessly . he doesn’t want to see his love in pain . he also heavily dislikes the idea of his paramount dying by any other means but him . ray wants to be the one to bring to whatever afterlife they believe in . it makes him feel better that he did it so they knew he loved them to the very end , even if he can’t follow . 

#⸻ RAY : about ✦ remember me i ask . remember me i sing ˎˊ˗ #queue / #sadomasochism tw #death of a loved one tw

[ellascreams]

Why does the National Library of Medicine have an article about vore? More importantly, why did I read the National Library of Medicine’s article about vore?

#In my defense it was only a paragraph long #in my prosecution I was disappointed it was only one paragraph long #I don’t want related articles about sadomasochism #TELL ME THE SPECIFIC PSYCHOLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS OF VORE GOSH DANG IT #tw vore mention

[murdershaped]

@cosmikal | asked: with such statuesque form and claws upon her left hand unfurled , alcina makes for a striking and intimidating figure. ink black talons , each a terrifying foot or so in length and all equally razor sharp , slice through the air as she postures. the tip of such a threatening forefinger bites into the delicate skin at the underside of orin's chin. making the little changeling tilt its head up to face blazing yellow eyes least it be impaled upon the digit. "now , can you be a good girl for me?"

Orin's giggle was high pitched as Alcina's sharpened claws sliced through the air towards the changeling. So often did it FANTASIZE about the day that the lady of the castle did not halt right before her throat. A shudder wracked its frame at the MERE THOUGHT of the nails which put even WELL KEPT razors to shame with their sharpness. Crimson would pour freely from the slit, all of which already belonged to Alcina would mar the flawless floor to remind of how THOROUGHLY Orin the Red belonged to Lady Dimitrescu. Well, remind until she commanded every drop be scrubbed away. But there would always be something there, stirring and squirming in the mistress of the castle's mind the memory that all of the viscera, every drop of bile and blood within Orin BELONGED TO HER.

They pushed their chin down just a fraction so a single bead of sanguine ran down its neck slowly. Her eyes fluttered closed at the SHARP PAIN, a wistful exhale pushing past obsidian stained lips before she let out another giggle. " How hungry my flesh is for your slashing, my Lady. Your blades sing such sweet symphonies to me, every vein and every innard LONGS for the stroke of your blades. What bliss, what union of PAIN AND PLEASURE every cut you leave inflicts upon my tissue. "

Her head rolled lazily to the side and it whimpered as the sharp edge of Alcina's nails dragged across Orin's jawbone with the motion. " I will behave, I will recite the pleasantries you so admire as reverent as a FINAL PRAYER. Just mark me, take from me, as every chunk of my meat and every drop of my blood is YOURS TO HARVEST. Make my skin know it, carve the message until even the muscle beneath will have it seared there. "

#cosmikal #ANSWERED. #um. #hiiiiiiii #tw: self harm #uh a lot of sadomasochism here #a loT OF THAT! #orin is a freak this just in

[hero-hoe]

Owner!Ghost with dogboy!Soap who gets puppygirl!Reader as a gift.

MDNI. 18+ ONLY

Hybrid au. Kidnapping tw, naive!reader, Fem!reader, handjobs (m/m). Ghost and Soap are a little off. Sadomasochism tw

Ghost who's had Soap ever since retiring being discharged due to injury and thought "fuck it, I need something to keep me busy", so he gets himself a retired dogboy. Nothing wrong with 'im, they just tend to cycle hybrids out after a few years of use. Any longer and they go a little wrong in the head. Something about their genetics and how they could get too into their tasks and needed human handlers on the outside.

Ghost is pretty sure the one he got is a little messed up anyway. Fine by him, the man had done his fair share of awful things, too far beyond being considered a good man anymore. At least having the mutt gave him purpose again, he was losing his mind trying to fit back in with polite society on his own. Johnny was Price's idea to get Simon out of his house, to take care of himself instead of wasting away in a bare bones cabin in the countryside. Take the dog on walks and all that, get a membership at one of those expensive city gyms that let hybrids in so they could both keep up on their training.

Johnny would bark his ear off about his time in the military, causing messes he never had to clean up and getting paid for it. And he didn't push when Simon said nothing about his own experience. And then they settled into a decent enough routine, too intimate to just be hybrid and handler, but Ghost wasn't a man who liked labels. They were just Johnny and Simon, that's all that mattered.

He got a good dog. Sure, he was a bit off, but nothing that couldn't be handled. He barked a lot, hated strangers, refused to sleep anywhere but Simon's room after the first few nights. And he was energetic, always bouncing off the walls or chasing down random animals in the woods. If he brought back something to snack on, Simon never minded, so long as he clean his own mess. Ghost wasn't above rubbing the dog's nose in the blood and mud puddle left on the kitchen floor. Good thing Johnny learned the first time.

It'd been a few years, Ghost hadn't bothered to keep track, but his silly pup was getting restless. Only after the third time coming home to Johnny humping himself stupid in the toy he'd gotten, teeth sunk into the pillows, did Simon finally take him to the vet. Trying to handle the situation himself hadn't helped, and he didn't like seeing his boy so miserable, even if he looked beautiful because of it. Simon swore Johnny never looked better than when he was desperate and on their sheets, fucking into a silicone pussy like his life depended on it and whimpering into a slobber covered pillowcase.

Everything was normal, the vet said, a waste of £150. It's actually a good thing, they told him, means he's healthy and happy enough to breed and is having ruts. Gave him three options: have Johnny fixed, let the mutt handle it himself every time, or get him someone to play with. Simon was offended at the idea of getting his pup snipped, immediately shutting the thought down. But he couldn't keep watching Soap sob and beg, pleading for something Simon didn't have. He held Johnny in his arms each but after that, making sure to stroke his needy pup through every orgasm needed with a hand around his neck for stability.

Johnny was a good dog, Simon relented. Never once bit without being told and made sure to moan nice and loud whenever he was hit. He deserved a treat.

So Simon did his research, went to all the shelters and breeders and even searched the parks for a new treat for his boy. Nobody was good enough, he thought, until he found you. Soft, sweet, and so, so innocent. You didn't hesitate to take his hand when he offered you a treat and some ear scratches, wandering away from your old owner and right into his truck.

You ate the special biscuits he gave you and fell asleep with a dopey smile on your face, so happy when he told you he was gonna take you home and introduce you to his puppy.

Johnny was at the door like always, waiting on his knees at the time Simon said he'd be home. He was anxious and confused today, able to smell you from outside as soon as Ghost pulled up. You smelled so good, but he hated the idea of Simon bringing another dog home. Was he not enough? He'd been so good, why would his master need another pup?

"Settle, mutt." Simon huffed as soon as he heard Johnny's whine, the hybrid kneeling obediently at the door with his ears tucked back. "Stop the damn whining. Got you somethin'." He huffed, shifting you in his arms.

Johnny scooted closer, staying on the ground and sniffing at you cautiously. One of Ghost's massive hands laced into a well maintained mohawk, tugging tight until he calmed down. The pain grounded him, a reminder that Simon was there, that he wasn't being replaced. "Fer me?" Johnny asked, taking another deep inhale along the skin of your thigh where is dangled over Simon's arm.

Ghost hummed, the sound pulling another whine from Johnny's throat. "Smells s'good." He whispered, eyes dilating as he crawled closer. "She's pure bonnie, Sir."

Straddling Simon's boot, rutting mindlessly against his shin while taking in deep huffs of your skin, Johnny couldn't wait to play with you.

#cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #hybrid au #owner!ghost #cod drabble #soap drabble #ghost drabble

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Feitan Portor NSFW Profile

Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non/dub-con, stalking, masturbation, kidnapping, spit, drool, lots and lots of cum, Feitan is gross and icky and comes in your conditioner I'm so sorry, seriously this one is pretty gross I apologize now, bondage, ropes, blood, period sex, consumption of period blood, Stockholm Syndrome, a few mentions of reader having pubic hair, mentions of premature ejaculation, Feitan has intimacy issues, a touch of sadomasochism, dry humping, blindfolds, begging, edging, overstimulation, there's a lot going on, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

WC: 12K (oh my god)

HABITS:

Even amongst the Troupe, Feitan is particularly emotionally stunted. 

Of course, he knows about relationships, about the intimacy that ensues - he’s never personally fucked anyone, but he knows how it goes, what it’s like (at least, in theory), how it’s supposed to feel. He’s just never wanted to - his libido is actually quite low, and although he’s spent nights tossing and turning in bed, cock throbbing and aching for attention, he’s never felt the urge to find some random woman for a fun, stress relieving night. 

Sure, he’s jerked off more times than he can count, and he’s been to more strip clubs with Phinks and Uvogin than he’d care to admit. He’s been around it his whole life, even from a young age as a child in Meteor City - so yes, he knows about sex. 

He’s just never been able to tolerate someone long enough to consider sleeping with them, much less actively wanting to sleep with them. And yet, once you step into his life, Feitan finds himself uncomfortably aroused by the idea of letting his hands wander your body, of seeing the way your pretty face would scrunch up in pleasure, of hearing your little moans and yelps when he kisses you and sinks his teeth in just a bit too hard. 

Once his obsession with you forms and he begins moving past some of those initial mental barriers, Feitan finds himself beginning to crave you intimately, physically, sexually. And, just as the rest of his feelings for you, he hates it at first. 

He hates how just a simple thought of you has his body growing hot, the collar of his jacket uncomfortably tight as he shifts his weight, trying to ignore the way blood is steadily rushing south. 

He hates how just a simple look from you, with your eyes all innocent yet sultry, makes him gulp a bit, his fingers twitching at his side. He doesn’t like how he can’t control his body’s reaction to you, but it’s not like he can help it - it’s instinctual, primal, carnal, as if his body is recognizing that you’re the chosen one for him to fornicate with, as if you’re the only one worthy of his sexual attention.

Feitan doesn’t like this change in developments much, but quickly he finds himself at a crossroads; he can spend nearly every night staring at the black of his ceiling, laying in bed and glancing down at the massive tent in the sheets centered around his crotch, or he can give in and get working, letting his hand run along the length of his cock all with you on his mind.

 He doesn’t feel guilty about masturbating to you, per se, but there is this weird sense of embarrassment that sits heavy in his chest as he exhales shakily and spreads the bead of precum along his shaft. There is this weird feeling like he’s doing something bad, something naughty, as if you’d be disgusted if you were to ever find out.

It makes him feel strange, but he almost likes it - it’s a thrill he gets, particularly to the knowledge that you’d probably be disgusted to know he wrings himself dry (often more than once at a time) nearly every night, all with the mental image of you naked, writhing and stuffing your fingers into that warm, wet, oh so fucking tight cunt of yours. 

He’d never admit, but he’d give anything to be your fingers, to feel the sensation of being inside you, even if it was only for a few moments. (That’d probably be enough to make come the first time he fucks you, anyways.)

Once he gives in to getting off with you in mind, Feitan finds himself fucking his fist frequently, frantically, his hips thrusting into his hand faster and rougher the longer he goes on, the longer the image of you crying his name and clenching down around his cock plays behind his eyelids.

He wraps his hand around his girth and immediately starts violently pumping his fist up and down, until he’s eventually stuttering your name and coming, sending spurts of cum flying up onto his chest, the white staining his pale chest. It feels good, or at least good enough to satisfy him for the moment, up until he ends up palming himself through his pants the next night. 

It’s a never ending cycle, and frankly it leaves Feitan frustrated – it’s just not enough. The thought of you is more than enough, really, to functionally get him shooting ropes of cum out of his swollen, needy tip, but there’s this part of him buried deep inside that needs more, something to make him feel like it’s really you he’s touching and fucking. 

It’s not enough to be the one touching himself, when he knows it would feel different if it was your soft hand, your warm lips, your tight walls. He needs something more, something more intimate and personal and you in order to really get himself off, to really feel connected to you in the way he craves. 

And so, Feitan makes a discovery one evening that changes everything; he has a penchant for sneaking into your room after you’ve fallen asleep, the dismal security of your apartment something he’s simultaneously grateful and irritated with you for. He likes to just watch you sleeping, those dark eyes taking in every detail about your unconscious form, all exposed for his viewing pleasure without you even knowing it. 

He always shuffles closer the longer he watches, his feet taking just a tiny step every once in a while, just because he can smell you better when he’s closer, see more detail in your skin and features, and it’s only after he’s crept his way right up to your side that he notices it. He should be disgusted, he thinks, when he sees the bit of drool slipping past your lips, your slumber deep enough that you haven’t noticed the wet pool of it against your pillow. 

He should be grimacing and scooting away, revolted by something so gross, but instead Feitan finds his eyes getting caught on the way your lips are just slightly parted, the wetness against your chin shining ever so slightly in the pale moonlight. 

He doesn’t really know why he does it, but soon his fingers are reaching out, lightly brushing against your lip, a sharp inhale audible as he feels the warm wetness of your saliva against his fingertips. He’ll retract his hand, staring with narrowed eyes, before slowly, carefully bringing his fingers to his own mouth, slipping them past his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed because he’s tasting you. 

It’s euphoric, your spit sweet and leaving the perfect tang on his tongue, and suddenly Feitan’s reaching into his jacket pockets, frantically searching for the vial he keeps on hand, just in case he needs a bit of blood from a victim or enemy. He gulps when he finally pulls it out, wiping at it to rid it of any remaining blood, before carefully bringing the glass up to your face, positioning it right below your chin so that the next bit of drool to drip out of your mouth lands in the vial rather than on your pillow. 

It’s a slow process, filling it up, but Feitan’s committed, spending every night sitting beside your bed, watching you sleep and seeing the glass slowly fill with your drool, collected all for him. And when he finally has enough? Well, it’s easy to transition from slowly dipping his fingers in the vial and letting his tongue glide over them to letting the spit cover other areas of his body, even if the mere idea makes him scoff while a blush settles over the bridge of his nose. 

It’s not until one night, though, that he finally takes the plunge, crossing a line he can never recover from. He’d been particularly pent up, his cock absolutely swollen, aching and desperate for release, and his fist was just not enough. Even as he pounded away, biting his lip and furrowing his thin brows, the pleasure just wouldn’t come. 

His eyes wander from his ceiling down to his dresser, zeroing in on the glass vial sitting so innocently, so provocatively, practically taunting him to come closer. He’s snatching up the glass before he can really think, sitting back down and tearing the top off, his fingers moving faster than he can process. 

Soon, he’s dipping them in, swirling them a bit to make sure they’re really covered, but instead of bringing them to his lips, his hands travel south - gripping onto his cock, the wet coolness making him hiss through his teeth. He brings his wrist up, your saliva slowly smearing along his shaft, leaving it wet and twitching in the cold air of his bedroom, visibly throbbing as he runs his thumb over his slit, making sure to absolutely drench himself with your spit. 

His eyes slide shut, head rolled back slightly as he moves his hand at a steady, painfully slow pace, trying to calm his heart rate because this is so very different from before. It’s different, if only because it’s you - your saliva is letting his hand move smoother, your saliva coating his skin, you helping him to get off. It makes him feel dizzy, the familiar coil in his stomach appearing embarrassingly quickly as he speeds up his fist, images of you playing behind his eyes. 

He can’t help but imagine you on your knees before him, staring up at him with those pretty eyes, all wide and glassy and yearning, with your hands tied behind your back and your lips parted, pink tongue lolled out and waiting for him to fill that tight throat of yours. He grunts, squeezing at his tip, digging his fingers back through the vial to refresh the supply of your drool, and in his mind he’s slowly tracing your lips with the head, smearing his precum along your skin as you clench your thighs together and hum, practically begging him to facefuck you. 

Feitan hunches forward slightly as his wrist moves even faster, hand flying up and down his shaft, wet noises accompanying every jerk all caused by the excessive wetness he’s coated himself with, the feeling of your spit exactly what he’d be feeling if he was actually stuffing your little mouth, dark hairs tickling your cheeks and nose as he pushes your head all the way down, so that his tip is nestled down your throat. 

He lets out a guttural groan at that, a strained noise that makes him grimace, but he can’t help it - his orgasm is approaching, and he can’t help but listen to the wet squelching noises and imagine your gags and sharp breaths accompanying them, his toes curling. It feels so good, a building warmth in his naval that only grows bigger, stronger, more insistent, and all too soon he’s imagining the way you’d present your face to him when he pulls out and strokes himself over your face, cum spurting from his tip and landing in rivulets all along your cheeks, lips, nose, even getting into your hair.

You’d look so good, all messy and out of breath and covered in him him him, just as he is you. 

He bares his teeth as he feels himself right on the edge, his fingers clutching onto the vial so tightly he nearly shatters it, his cock bobbing and throbbing, balls clenching as he curls in on himself, small chants of your name mumbled under breath and then he’s coming, cum spraying everywhere as he gasps, hips bucking involuntarily into the air, chasing after his fist with every pump, aching to be releasing inside you, where it belongs. 

He takes a moment to come down from his high, chest heaving and eyes wide, staring down at the vial in his shaking hand, the weight of his orgasm shocking him. He’d never come so hard, like every muscle in his body was spasming, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. His eyes flick over to the clock, and he splutters, seeing the time. 

3:08, meaning only three minutes had passed since he’d snatched up the vial, feeling your spit against his skin, feeling you against the sensitive skin of his cock. 

His eyes close, his breath finally evening out, before he’s carefully setting the vial aside, recapping it and laying onto his back, trying to process why the hell he’d come so fast with something as grotesque as your spit to help him. He’s not sure, but then the images return of you on your knees for him, face still covered in his release and telling him that you want more, please Feitan, will you give me more? 

He groans as he feels his softening cock suddenly begin growing once more, his hips twitching as he reaches down to lightly grope at his balls, swallowing and deciding whether to dip his fingers into the vial yet again - he only has a limited supply, after all, and he’d be needing it again tomorrow night when he inevitably lets his mind wander to thoughts of you tied up and begging for him. 

He grumbles, a strained sort of sound, before getting to work once more, spitting into his hand and letting a small, barely there smile grace his lips, the slight flush still high on his cheeks. He’d have to get some more, he decided, because this? 

Well, fucking you was surely better, but Feitan would be a food to not capitalize on this new discovery - and when he’s painting his chest with ribbons of cum again a few minutes later, he decides that he’ll never go back to not having something of yours to aid him while he gets off. 

It’s just more intimate this way, better, like you’re really there - like you’re really naked and ready to fulfill every need, desire and fantasy of his. 

Like you want him. 

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your face

In general, Feitan thinks you’re attractive. He’s hesitant to say beautiful or pretty or really anything of the sort, if only because the way he feels for you is a bit more complicated than that. 

You’re not just pretty; you’re alluring, someone that always seems to catch his eye no matter how hard he tries to stop it. 

You’re not beautiful; objectively, there’s nothing about you that he hasn’t seen in hundreds of other women, whether it be your hair, your lips, your figure, or anything else. (Except maybe your eyes, or maybe your smile - things that are just so unapologetically you, things that Feitan thinks he could recognize with his eyes closed.) 

You’re nothing particularly special, physically speaking, and yet there’s something about you that he just can’t shake, some involuntarily thing that motivates him to always have his eyes on you, his body unconsciously facing you, his senses just so very aware of you. And because Feitan spends so much time simply watching you, he’s become extremely well antiquated with your features, with your pretty face that always seems to pull him in, like a moth to a flame. 

He’s memorized the way your lips curve, the soft skin puckering and moving with every word you say, and he often finds his gaze flicking down to watch while you talk, eyes sitting there idly as he lets his mind wander to what else you can do with those lips, what other shapes they can make. 

He’s studied every slope of your nose, the shape seeming to fit your face perfectly, and he even finds himself turning his lip when he sees models or celebrities with the same nasal structure - it doesn’t look nearly as good on them as it does you. 

And of course, your eyes - he’s spent more hours than he can count looking into them, unwilling to break the eye contact as he stares, fascinated with the color, how they shine in the light, how sunlight seems to make them glow, making you glow. 

So while there’s not any particular thing Feitan can say makes you attractive, you just are - enough so that he’s found himself seeing flashing images of your face late at night, when he’s unable to sleep and polishing his weapons, letting his mind wander and inevitably stumble into thoughts of you. He’ll relive the way you look when you smile - your grin is wide, teeth exposed, the pretty skin of your lips all stretched to accommodate your joy. 

You look good like that, and all too soon his innocent thought process of you is slipping into something sinister, something dirty and risqué, because now he’s imagining the way you’d smile up at him when he’s got you underneath him, your pretty little pleas and desperate begs for him to touch you making his skin tingle and his throat feel stuffy. 

He’s imagining the way you’d lick your lips when he tells you to get on your knees, his cock mere inches from your face as he strokes  himself, the eagerness and hunger in your eyes making him rush forward and bury himself down your throat in one go.

He’s imagining the way you’d look when he’s got you creaming on his cock, face pressed against the mattress and a mixture of tears and drool slipping down your chin, the pleasure just too much, even while your hips grind back on him, wanting more more more. 

He just likes your face, finding it oddly pleasing, and when the two of you are intimate, he finds himself eagerly searching out your facial expressions as often as possible - it’s the way he knows what you like, if you’re enjoying what he’s doing to you, if he’s doing a good job. 

So really, exaggerate the expressions, make it clear exactly what you’re feeling, and Feitan will be over the fucking moon - pounding into you with a new vigor, a sudden resolve to get you coming at least twice before he’s done with you. You’re just too attractive for him to resist, and he’s only a man, after all. 

His hands 

In general, Feitan is a fan of showing his feelings rather than articulating them, and even then only to an extent. 

There’s only so far he’s willing to expose his vulnerability, and it just becomes easier and less scary to just show you, to let his actions speak louder. And despite it taking a very, very long time for him to grow comfortable enough to actually act on this philosophy, one of the first ways that he’ll settle into touching you is with his hands. 

They’re rough, the skin calloused and scarred, pale fingers just the slightest bit off in certain spots, evidence of the multitudes of times he’s broken them. His fingers are lithe, nimble, quick and dexterous, evidence of his abilities with swords and the various tools he uses for work. And so, once he turns his hands onto you, you’ll notice all these things. 

It starts small - a fleeting feeling of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, merely a ghost of a touch that leaves you wondering if you really felt anything at all. 

He’ll reach out to flick at your forehead if you do something dumb (something endearing, but dumb), glaring at you and telling you to stop it, though his fingers are tingling where they made contact with your skin. 

He’ll lightly lay his hand on your hip, or on your thigh, keeping it there for a few moments before snatching it back to his own side, his hand flexing and the muscles tightening up because god, did you like that? Did you like it when he touched you? 

He gets in his head way too much about how you react to his touch, but the truth is that Feitan is incredibly touch starved, particularly when it comes to any sort of positive or romantic touch. 

He’s a criminal and has grown up in horrible conditions, and he’s simply never cared. But now that you’re here, someone for him to live out all those cliche, stupid romantic tropes? Well, he can’t directly ask for your affection, but you’ll notice the way his hands lay on your body for just a beat too long, just enough to make you wonder whether that touch was really as innocent as he seems to think it was (it’s not, at least not as much as he wishes - every time his skin brushes yours, this spark of electricity dances up his spine, making him gulp and tense up, because while the feeling blooming in his chest is warm and good, it’s still foreign, still something he hasn’t quite gotten used to yet).

And even once he reaches the stage where he’s grown comfortable enough with the concept of being intimate with you to actually touch you, he still relies heavily on his hands. Particularly, Feitan grows an affinity for fingering you - he loves the way your cunt just seems to suck his fingers in, as if your body is begging for more and more of him, craving his touch and the pleasure only he can give you. 

He’ll experiment a lot with you at first, curling his fingers or scissoring them, dark eyes appraising your face and checking for any changes in expression that could hint at what rhythm or area you like. 

(You’ll wonder where he learned some of the motions he tries out on you - he’ll never admit to watching porn to learn some ideas, nor that he practiced them before trying them out on you, his hand sandwiched between two pillows as he diligently curled them, perfecting the ‘come hither’ motion or letting his thumb practice rubbing tight, firm circles against the cotton. No, he’d rather die than have you learn that - you can’t know how badly he wants to please you, after all.) 

He likes to watch his fingers dipping inside you, the way they emerge all wet and glistening, a ring of white sitting right above his knuckles and filling him with pride. 

(Often, he finds himself idly staring at his fingers after you’ve fallen asleep, your body sore and exhausted after the fucking he’d put you through. He’ll spread them, staring from all angles, remembering the feeling of your wet heat around them, how your walls clamped down on him, even how your lips and tongue flicked across them when he’d shoved them into your mouth earlier. He’ll bring them to his lips, idly sucking on them, trying in vain to get every last drop of you off of them, so that he can taste you for just a moment longer, just to satisfy himself for as long as he can.) 

He’s a late bloomer and it will take him a long while to reach the point of being willing to touch you sexually (though he wants to from pretty much the get-go, much to his embarrassment), but once he does, you’d better get used to the feeling of his hands against your skin - after all, he’s insistent, and you do not want to reject his touch. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just moan and sigh and tell him it feels good, because Feitan is just so much more agreeable when he’s happy - you’ll get to come that way, too.

DRIVE:

Generally speaking, Feitan’s libido has never been especially high. Sex has never been a priority for him, and even once his days as a Troupe member begin, this doesn’t change. He doesn’t see the attraction to sleeping around, to fucking random women just for a few minutes of fleeting pleasure. 

It’s just so much work to be around others, to have to communicate and hear their complaining when he doesn’t put effort into making them feel good – it’s just not fun, not something he wants to spend his time with. And so, while Feitan is certainly no saint, he doesn’t actively seek out sexual partners. And he especially doesn’t seek out touching another person, letting himself be touched, becoming vulnerable in any possible way.

So, once you step into his life, this self-inflicted celibacy doesn’t really change all that much. Of course, the idea of touching you is significantly more attractive than it would be to touch a random stranger, but Feitan is still not especially eager to fuck you once his obsession develops. 

He’s a bit of a late bloomer, taking a while to let his emotions warm up to you. In doing so, it takes a long, long time for his sexual urges towards you to appear, because Feitan prides himself on having good self control. But once he fully gives in to the fact that he wants you, in a way that’s entirely new and scary and foreign to him, the urges begin appearing. 

The idly thoughts wondering what you’re wearing, what you’re thinking about, if you’re in the mood… He’s still not as horny as some of his fellow Troupe members, but Feitan begins regularly imagining fucking you, the thoughts seemingly popping out of nowhere and completely unannounced. 

Frankly, it’s irritating; why is he imagining you without a shirt on when Phinks is telling him about the latest job Chrollo had paired them up for? (It’s a pain in the ass to hide the slowly growing tent in his trousers from the blond - he always just seems to know, and Feitan would rather die than be subjected to the never ended teasing.) 

Why is he imagining the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock when he’s slicing off that man’s head, the cut clean and clear yet the only thing he can think of being how your cheeks would hollow as you suck? 

It’s annoying, and although he tries to fight it at first, he eventually gives up. There’s only so much he can stop himself from imagining, and as his obsession grows deeper, the perverse fantasies he holds towards you only grow more numerous, more pronounced, more longed for. He finds himself actively wanting to be intimate with you, and while he won’t act on that desire for a very long time, it’s left to quality sit, festering and brewing inside him until one day it’s all just too much, a dam bursting that forces him to finally take that last step, to let himself rest a hand on you or brush his lips against your cheek or graze his finger along your nipple. 

He doesn’t move very fast, but Feitan’s in no rush - after all, you’re stuck with him for the rest of your life, and he’ll be the only other human you’ll ever interact with. By the time he’s ready to progress your relationship forward, you’ll likely have come around, desperate enough for human contact that you’ll want him to touch you, that you’ll want to touch him back. 

Just the thought makes him gulp and flex his fingers, excitement and anxiety settling into his stomach, his cock growing half hard even as his mind winces. 

However, because he has so many issues surrounding intimacy and vulnerability, Feitan will likely never actually force you into anything. 

Because you’re likely to come around and develop Stockholm Syndrome by the time he’s ready to touch you, you’ll be more than eager to let his hand rest on your waist, or to let him stand behind you so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, the tent in his pants more than apparent. You’ll be ready, but until he’s ready, he has to find alternatives. 

Because he’s still frequently experiencing sexual urges towards you way before he’s willing to act on them, Feitan finds himself quite sexually frustrated. He has all these dirty thoughts, all these possessive, insistent feelings urging him to just take you, to stake his claim on you by stuffing you full of his cock and cum, and he has to release them somehow. 

And so, he falls back on a method that he isn’t necessarily proud of, but does find some sick, twisted sense of pride and amusement from. That is, because he’s the one supplying literally everything to you once you’re trapped under his roof, it’s not so hard to tamper with some of the ingredients of your essentials. 

Your conditioner, for instance; he buys you the brand you love (something he tells you is coincidence but most certainly isn’t), and as he opens the cap and smells it one day while you’re asleep in the next room over, he can’t help but notice how creamy it is, how thick and how white it is.

It make shim gulp, and after quickly making sure to lock the bedroom door you’re trapped behind, Feitan shakily returns to the bathroom, exhaling deeply. It’s just a coincidence that the conditioner resembles something that he produces, right? 

It’s an amusing twist of fate that your favorite conditioner (with the scent he can only describe as you) looks almost exactly like his cum, right? 

Feitan thinks so, and as his mind wanders back to the little stunt you’d pulled earlier in the day, he finds himself settling onto the closed toilet lid, reaching into his pants and pulling out his cock, already drooling precum and sensitive to the touch. 

You’d been laying on your bed, blanket barely covering your body as you slept, the skimpy pajamas you’d fallen asleep in in disarray on your figure. Your shirt had bunched up, letting one pert, supple breast slip out, your nipple on display, not even the blanket managing to cover it up. 

(He’d froze when he noticed, slowly creeping closer, licking his lips and unable to stop staring.) 

And those damn sleeping shorts, always getting moved around and never quite sitting right on your hips when you wake up, were twisted a bit, the holes for your legs angled just right so that if he looked the right way, he could see the very edge of your cunt, one lip covered with pretty pubic hairs, looking soft and warm and so fuckable. 

You were asleep, and somewhere in Feitan’s mind he knows you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it’s hard not to blame you for being so indecent, for hoping to tempt Feitan into giving in. You’re such a fucking minx, all teasing and daring to show off your assets, and how was Feitan supposed to react to this? How was he not supposed to immediately grow aroused and flustered, unable to tare his gaze from your vulnerable body?  

Eventually he’d managed to, shutting the door behind him and taking a few uneven breaths, trying desperately to not replay the image of your breast over and over in his mind. It’s no use, however, and as he splashes his face with cold water in the bathroom, that’s when his eyes land on the conditioner bottle. 

His hand moves fast as he fucks his fist, hissing under his breath over and over as he steadily gets closer, driven forward by the idea of lewd it will be to have his cum in something as personal as you conditioner. 

He can’t stop thinking about how you’d have no idea, waltzing around with his cum soaked into your pretty hair, maybe even making you smell like him - He’s groaning, the thoughts pushing him closer and closer to the edge, his orgasm hurtling forward as he imagines the way you’d lather it in your hands, humming and making sure every square inch of your hair is covered in it, covered in him. 

He imagines the way you’d bring it up to your nose and deeply inhale, sighing because it’s your favorite scent, wondering why it smells a bit more musky than you remember, but not minding. Maybe you’d even like the new scent, and just the thought of that is enough to push him over the edge, a sharp growl slipping past his lips as he aims his cock right into the bottle, cum spraying all over the conditioner, the white colors matching perfectly. 

He’s breathing hard, a seemingly never ending series of spurts coming from his swollen tip, and once he thinks he’s done, he grasping his length and lightly shaking it, lodging any loose bits of cum out, coaxing them to join the pile. Once done, he’ll gulp, letting a small smirk slip onto his lips as he closes the bottle, shutting the lid tight and shake the bottle, making sure to thoroughly mix it. 

He won’t tell you about his little ‘gift’, of course not - but you’ll know something is up when he’s standing stiff as you exit the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and wet hair having been marinating in the special mixture he made for you, and when he’s eagerly sniffing your head every chance he gets after that, you’ll have to realize something is amiss. 

When he’s asking you if your hair feels particularly soft, you’ll have to know he’s trying to get at something, some layer underneath the surface that he’s really speaking about. 

It’s enough to satisfy him for the time being, his possessiveness over you quelling ever so slightly because even though it’s not in your cunt, where it belongs, at least he’s got his cum somewhere on you - and until he’s ready to fuck you properly, that’ll have to do. It’ll become habit, and one day you may even stumble upon him midway through the process, your conditioner bottle an inch or so from his tip as he frantically tugs and pulls. 

(He’ll freeze, unable to process that he got caught, and frankly, he’ll just try to ignore that you ever saw it, not willing to broach the topic - and you won’t be either, because what the fuck?)He just really, really desires you, and Feitan is a resourceful man - so I hope you like the smell of musk and a bit of iron, because you’ll be smelling like it for weeks.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Orgasm Control

In general, Feitan has to be in control in the bedroom. It’s not that he’s particularly onto any dominant or submissive roles between the sheets, but more because he doesn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanies letting other people pleasure him. Something about being at the mercy of someone else’s touch or whims makes him nervous, an unpleasant feeling blooming in his stomach that leaves him fidgety and jumpy. 

And so, every sexual interaction with you will see him starring as the dominant role, always calling the shots, and nothing exemplifies this sentiment quite like the way he treats your orgasms. Despite not having a huge amount of sexual experience prior to his infatuation with you, he’s very obviously aware that both partners are capable of orgasming in any given sexual interaction, that it should be expected and achieved regardless of methodology. 

With other women, Feitan wouldn’t care in the least – he’s selfish by nature, and if he were to ever have sex with anyone other than you, in no way, shape or form would he pay any mind to their pleasure, only chasing after his own release. 

But with you, this sentiment is a bit different; he wants to get you off, if only because seeing the way your body responds to him, shaking and shivering and moaning and clenching, gets him harder, his breath more ragged, his palms sweatier. There’s something incredibly pleasing about seeing the way your body is sensitive to his every touch that makes him giddy, an odd mixture of power, arousal and eagerness filling him. 

He wants to make you a mess, to get you gushing and creaming and whimpering as he fingers you, as he shoves his cock inside you, even as he tongues at your clit (eating you out isn’t something that happens often, but when it does, Feitan expects you to come from it). He likes the sight of you falling apart for him, and consequently, that desperation for power and control comes hurtling back – so that he is the one in control of your orgasms. 

He wants to be the one choosing when, how, and why you’re coming, every one of your movements a result of him. 

He tends to rely heavily on edging you, enjoying the way you squirm and beg for him to keep going. He’ll have two slender, nimble fingers buried inside of you, curling and scissoring, the stretch a bit painful but in a pleasure-tinged way, making your toes curl and your bottom lip catch between your teeth. 

His thumb will rub consistent, steady circles at your clit, the little nub sore and swollen, and he’ll keep his ministrations up until you’re breathing heavier, your stomach and thighs clenching, the telltale signs that you’re nearing your high. 

(He’s very, very good at reading your body when it comes to your sexual pleasure – he’s spent so long stalking you that he’s seen you touching yourself more times than he can count, and while watching the way your cunt takes the toy is very, very difficult to tear his eyes away from, he’d made sure to study every other part of your body, too. He’s watched the way your face morphs as you get closer, your brows shooting up and your lips parting a bit, your eyes fluttering and threatening to close as the pleasurable knot in your gut grows tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s watched the way your legs shake, the muscles in your thighs visibly twitching and clenching, trying desperately to close and clench together, prompting him to imagine how they’d feel around his head, around his waist, around his cock. He’s even noticed your breathing, how you sound, the way your voice gets higher and more breathy, your moans increasing in intensity until you let out this sudden, strained gasp that gets him swallowing harshly, a thick pearl of precum dripping from his tip from the mere sound.)

He’s constantly observing you even while he's intimate with you, those dark eyes never wavering from your form, and he’ll bring you right to the edge, noticing with a tightness in his throat that your legs are starting to tremble, that your voice is climbing up, that you’re starting to get all gaspy and your abdominal muscles are clenching, and god, you’re squeezing around his fingers so damn tight – 

The confused, desperate whine you let out when he suddenly pulls his fingers out of you makes him smirk a bit, the way your watery eyes blearily blink up at him, half clouded in lust and disappointment making him reach out to pinch at your pebbled nipple. Not yet, one more time. He’ll tell you, laughing a bit as you whine and gulp, chest heaving and your fingers twitching. He’ll make you wait, maybe even reaching down and jerking himself off a bit, making a show of hissing under his breath and making sure that you can see him, hearing the wet noises as he flicks his wrist and imagines it’s your sweet little pussy wrapped around him rather than his own fingers.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive when he does this, his own touch making him buck his hips as he stares down at you, spread before him, underneath him, where you belong. He’ll make sure to give enough time that you come down from your sensitivity, before resuming his ministrations, making you gasp and bite your lip. 

He’ll keep doing this over and over and over, denying you of your orgasm some five or so times before he finally, finally decides that you’ve behaved well enough, that you deserve to feel good. (Often, what finally gets him to cave in is the fact that he too is very close, and while it’s cliché and stupid and a bit pathetic, he really likes it when you both come at the same time, your orgasms matching up so he can feel like you’re doing it together.) 

He’ll work you through it, not stopping his motions, which brings up another aspect of how Feitan likes to tease you and assert his control over you – he doesn’t like overstimulation quite as much as denial, but he’s not shy about going faster, harder, his motions seeming almost frantic as you start whining and shaking, going on about how it’s too much, Feitan it’s too much I can’t! 

He’ll just growl and shut you down, slapping (not too hard) your clit and seeing you way you jerk, telling you to shut up and take it, you’ve done it before. He likes seeing your eyes get all teary, your body spasming and shaking even harder, the overstimulation making you cry out his name with a renewed fervor. 

(He’d never admit it, but that’s one of his favorite parts – he never pegged himself to be a fan of loud moans, but there’s something about the way that you do it, when it’s his name you’re moaning, that makes him throb, his cock twitching without any stimulation. You sound so destroyed, so wrecked and utterly desperate for him that it makes his head spin, his chest filling with pride and lust and satisfaction because you do need him, and your body is just proving that.) 

He’s cruel, often pulling three or four orgasms from you every time he touches you, those dark eyes staring unblinking down at you, almost studying you as you fall apart on his cock, on his fingers, on anything he chooses. It makes him feel good to know that he’s in full control, that he can choose when you come – it shows his place above you, helping him to justify the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that he’s taking the time and effort to make you feel good when he really doesn’t need to. 

He’s just being generous – you should be grateful he even cares about your pleasure at all. 

(Say thank you to him as you orgasm and he’s gone – cum is dripping down your skin or out of your pretty hole before you can process what’s even happening, the man above you gasping and heaving, trying desperately to make sure you don’t see the slight red staining his cheeks.) 

He wants you to follow his commands, so just let him do as he pleases – you’ll come eventually, most of the time.

Bondage

Tying into his preferences for holding control in the bedroom, Feitan has a certain affinity for seeing you restrained. 

There’s something about the way your body is presented to him when you’re all tied up that gets him feeling hot, his hands twitching and yearning to reach out and touch you. He’s not picky about what he uses to bind you – the tried and true rope is never displeasing, and the variety of pretty knots and positions he can force you into this way leave him nearly drooling at all the different sexual fantasies he can carry out with you. 

He’s particularly fond of tying you up in ways that are just the slightest bit humiliating, positions that make your neck and cheeks feel hot, embarrassment eating away at you because god, everything is exposed. 

He likes when your legs are spread, a bit of rope keeping your calves firmly pressed to your thighs while your pussy is exposed to open air, the perfect amount of space between your legs for him to slip into. He likes when your breasts are free, jiggling and bouncing with every thrust, the rope digging into your sternum or ribcage as you moan and writhe. 

(He also likes when the rope crisscrosses over your chest, digging into your nipple and making you whine in pain and pleasure, and when he undoes the ropes, he loves the way your nipples are so sore and swollen, a much darker color than they normally are and practically begging to be pinched at, to be twisted and pulled on until you’re a sniffly, moaning mess.) 

He’ll often tie your wrists together behind your back, rope connecting from your waist to the back of your knees, keeping your legs bent while he forces your ass into the air, mounting you from behind and absolutely destroying you. 

Rope is his favorite, if only because there’s something so familiar, so comforting in using it – of course, he never desires to fuck any of his victims, but he knows how to manipulate the material in order to get you bent the way he wants you to be. 

And while he has no desire to do anything to you that he would to those he tortures, there’s something oddly sexy and taboo about the fact that he’s using the same kind of rope on you as he did to the man the other day. It’s dirty, sinful, if only because this is as close as he can come to mixing two of the things he loves most – you, and his job. 

You’re safe this way, not liable to be cut or maimed or anything of the sort, but you’re still utterly at his hands, vulnerable to every whim or desire he wishes to enact on you. He likes how helpless you are when you’re tied up, unable to reach out or take control of your own pleasure, entirely reliant on him to do everything for you – something as big as stretching you out on his cock, or as small as pushing away a stray piece of hair in your face as he fucks your throat. 

The power trip is insane, and while he won’t hurt you, just the knowledge that he could makes him harder than he’s ever been. He’s a fan of other alternatives to rope, too – handcuffs are fine, a bit too mainstream for him to use regularly, but in a bind it’ll do. 

(Especially if he’s grown more comfortable with you, willing to show a more vulnerable side, because handcuffs give him less control and allow you to actively participate in your pleasure, letting you grind back against him or wrap your legs around his waist or any number of other things that can signal that you want him too.) 

Silk ties are fine, and on days where he’s feeling a bit more sentimental or emotional, he’ll prefer to use these because there’s less chance of you bruising or getting any burns or rashes. (Plus, there’s something so fitting about you being shrouded in silk – you, who’s so weak and soft and dainty, matching perfectly with the fabric. It makes him snort a bit, because you always look like such an angel when you’re all tied up for him in this way – like a beautiful, naïve little angel just begging to be destroyed and tainted by his hands, a feat he’s more eager and impatient to accomplish than he’d care to admit.) 

He’s even willing to use clothing to get you restricted – maybe the shirt you’d been wearing (his shirt, one he let you borrow, the one he finds adorable on you even if he’d never tell you) will get tied around your wrists, keeping them firmly above your chest as he sinks into you and squeezes his eyes shut, biting back the moan that threatens to tumble at his lips because you’re just so damn tight. 

He’ll use your panties as a gag, though he doesn’t do this often because he really does like hearing your sounds – especially when they’re any sort of praise or his name. 

(Often, after he’s stuffed the panties you’d been wearing past your lips, he’ll steal them back afterwards, sneakily storing them somewhere for later, for late at night when he’s standing over your sleeping form and breathing shakily, staring at you and rubbing the material – wet with both your spit and your slick – all over his cock.) 

His preference is always to have you restrained in some manner, and it’ll only be once he feels as comfortable as possible with you that he won’t tie you up. To have you free means letting himself be vulnerable to your touches, and even your rejection of his touch, and just the thought is enough to get him nervous, having to wipe his slightly sweaty hands onto his jacket. 

He’s had fantasies about fucking you without any restraints separating you before, but the moment it happens, you’ll notice that he’s oddly sensitive, his breath coming out harsher and more labored at touches that would normally leave him largely unaffected. It’s just so emotional for him, so scary and frightening, and he’ll stay inside you much longer than normal after he’s come, relishing in the warmth and wetness of you while your fingers maybe brush over his shoulders, maybe even running through his hair. It’s the sort of fantasy he’ll never, ever tell you about, though – and for now, he’ll stick with tying you up so that you’re easily accessible, provoking and arousing to stare at, and in no position to argue when he manhandles you into doing exactly what he wants.

Dry humping

While he has sexual, lewd thoughts about you from pretty much the moment he truly accepts his feelings for you, Feitan takes a very long time to begin acting on those feelings. 

Even more, it takes him a long time to get comfortable enough to be naked in front of you, much less actually fuck you. And so, while this hesitancy persists, he finds himself using other routes to sate his growing desire to be intimate with you – routes that are less invasive, less opportune for embarrassing accidents (like coming too fast, or facing your rejection). 

And while it still feels awfully pathetic, Feitan finds that the simple act of grinding on you is enough to satisfy his desires, at least for the time being – there’s just something oddly enticing about it, something arousing and the pleasure just dull enough to thwart him from coming within three or four minutes of touching you. 

He doesn’t like initiating it, though, finding it a bit too pathetic, even for him, even for the way he feels for you. Instead, he holds his breath, hoping that every time you brush against him (normally by accident, your whole body freezing up the moment you realize what you’ve done) that you’ll do it again, because even just a single bit of friction between your (fully clothed) bodies is enough to get his neck feeling warm, the ghost of an erection springing to life in his pants. 

He’s just so, so touch starved, and so as time goes on, he’ll start subtly trying to get into positions where you might accidentally grind on him, sometimes without you even realizing. He’ll make you pick something up off the ground, then choose the exact moment that you’re bent over and your ass is in the air to walk behind you, letting his hips just barely graze against you.

He’ll manage to hold back the little strained noise he makes, but at some point you’ll notice that it’s happening much too often to be a coincidence, and you’ll eventually realize that the strange hardness you feel when he does this is actually him. 

He won’t ever just grab you and rut into you, but god does he want to, especially when he sees your hips swaying, or when you’re sitting down, the fat of your thighs splayed out and your hips looking wide and full and perfect to grab onto. 

He’s embarrassed by his own thoughts, but eventually you’ll probably realize what it is that he wants – you’ve felt the way he tries to subtly make it happen, and while you were at first confused and shocked (you’d had no idea Feitan wanted anything sexual with you, as he’d never made a mention of it or acted in a way that would suggest it), you eventually start getting a bit brave, too. 

You don’t love Feitan, far from it, but you’ve been trapped with him for enough months to start craving any form of human contact, and so you’ll pounce – Feitan can’t help but sharply inhale when you grind back against him one day while you’re bent over, the feeling of your ass moving against his cock making him struggle to breath. 

He’s not sure what you’re trying to do, too pessimistic to let himself believe that you’re the one grinding on him, but one day you’ll find yourself sitting next to him on the raggedy old couch, the TV playing some mindless horror movie that Feitan had thrown on, and your hand will just sort of move on its own, slowly, carefully placing itself very lightly over his thigh. He’ll tense up at the sensation, dark eyes flicking between your hand and your face, your own gaze nervously set on the TV in front of you. 

It’s silent for a moment, but when he doesn’t move your hand, you’ll get braver, turning to look at him and asking in a soft, unsure voice if you can sit in his lap. Feitan doesn’t know how to respond, simply staring at you with narrowed eyes, wondering if this is some sort of trick – but eventually he’ll nod, telling you to be careful, don’t try anything. 

You’ll position yourself so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, his thighs on either side of your hips, but you don’t lean back, even when you hear Feitan inhale slightly, having leaned forward to smell your hair. It’s a good twenty or so minutes later when you begin moving your hips slowly, nervously, listening to hear for any displeased noises or harsh commands for you to stop your movements. 

Feitan is frozen behind you, staring at your hips and trying to understand what you’re doing – he likes it, but he doesn’t like the way his body is reacting, blood slowly starting to head south at the slight friction, at the way you’re so damn close to him, at the way he can smell you and can feel the heat radiating off your body. 

It’s all too much, and suddenly he’s telling you to get off me, before quickly storming out of the room and locking himself in his bedroom. 

His cock is in his hand within minutes, memories of how you’d felt against him, even with layers of clothes separating you still fresh in his mind. You’ll be left to believe he didn’t like it, that you’d totally misinterpreted his actions, ashamed and a bit afraid for how he’d respond moving forward. 

Except, there’s no grand punishment, no mocking you for your actions – instead, the next night he turns on a new movie (still horror, gory and full of screaming and killing) and looks over at you expectantly. 

His legs are spread this time, leaving a space between them, and for a moment you’re confused, unsure of what he wants. He just raises a brow at you, unwilling to articulate what he’s wanting, hoping you’ll understand it without him needing to say it. 

You’ll shuffle closer, still staring at him, but soon he’ll just grumble, a hand reaching out and pulling you down to sit between his legs before you can even realize what’s happening. You’re stiff and unsure, unwilling to relax, and Feitan doesn’t like this. He wants you to move like you did last night, and after a few minutes of you sitting stone still, he’ll hiss into your ear do it again. 

You’ll start slow, testing the waters, and you nearly jump when you feel Feitan’s hand ghost over your waist, setting his fingers against your shirt as if wanting to fully touch you, but not quite letting himself. He’ll occasionally tell you to go faster, the movie still playing in the background, the feeling of his cock digging into your tailbone making you a confusing mix of scared and aroused. 

Eventually, he’ll let out this strange, unusual little sound, something like a grunt but much higher and strained, and you’ll feel something warm and wet pressing against you. Don’t mention anything, because Feitan doesn’t want you to say a damn word, not wanting to admit that the feeling of you grinding on him for roughly seven minutes has him coming in his pants, cum covering his cock and getting him all sticky. 

He’s embarrassed, but it will become something of a ritual between the two of you – every time he turns on a movie, it’s your place to sit in his lap (eventually you actually will sit in his lap, fully on his lap, not just pressed against him, though this takes some time) and to gyrate your hips at that certain rhythm he likes, all up until you feel him tense up beneath you, seeing his fingers clutching at the couch cushions at your sides. 

It’s a slow buildup into any sort of sexual activity between the two of you, but Feitan likes this, something about the intimacy making him extra sensitive, the feeling of you actually touching him (even peripherally, with clothes separating the two of you) making him feel lightheaded and airy. He likes it, and this will be the jumping off point for him to begin getting bolder, to begin letting himself actually fuck you, to finally do what he’s been craving for months. 

And once you become aware that he likes it, please start imitating it – give him look and ask if you can um, sit in your lap? 

He’ll almost always say yes, even if he’s in the middle of doing something, even if there’s not even a chair or couch nearby – he'll rush (not running, but very, very nearly) to the nearest surface, swallowing hard and staring at you, growing impatient when you don’t move fast enough for him. 

Often, he’ll already be half hard, and while he prefers when your back is facing him, if you were to climb into his lap so that you were straddling him? Well, Feitan finds it much harder to look you in the eye, because now it’s your cunt grinding down on him rather than just your ass, and that’s much different, isn’t it? 

Even once he’s progressed to stage of actually being willing to touch you, of being willing to let you touch him, Feitan still enjoys when you hump at him. And he particularly enjoys humping you, though he’s only willing to do this in the dead of night, when you’re fast asleep, your body ripe and vulnerable for him to touch, to explore, to use. 

He doesn’t want you to be awake and see the way he crumbles when he drags his cock along the curve of your ass, if only because he doesn’t want you to see how pink his cheeks get, how he starts mumbling under his breath, how his every muscle is flexing and straining because he wants to go faster, needs to go faster, but he can’t risk waking you up. 

It’s his dirty little secret, so you’d better start working on your stamina for grinding onto him – sure, he doesn’t last long, but he expects it often, and you can’t exactly refuse him. 

Or else.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Begging

Feitan likes knowing that you want him. He feels so inferior and weak for having developed such strong, scarily dependent feelings for you, and it makes him feel good, satisfied, justified when you beg for him, all whiny and desperate for his touch, for his body, for his cock. 

While he’s not particularly vocal between the sheets, he likes when you are - your voice is sultry when it gets all airy and gaspy, your little praises and pleas for him to go faster or please don’t stop making him double down and go harder, his desperation to please you driving him forward. 

He won’t ever explicitly ask you to beg for anything, but you’ll be able to tell that he likes it. 

You’ll see the way his eyes widen just a hair, the way his dark bangs settle over his forehead as he dips his head down, the exertion of moving his hips or wrist faster making him squeeze his eyes shut. 

You’ll feel the way his thrusts get more insistent, hips slapping against yours while his balls clap against your ass, the sound lewd and only getting faster the more you beg. 

You’ll be able to hear it in the way his breathing starts getting ragged, no amount of stamina adequate for hearing you beg for him, for him to touch you and pleasure you. 

He wants to feel needed in the context of your sexual pleasure, as if you can’t get off without his help, as if you’re incapable of bringing yourself to orgasm when he so easily manages it. It’s unrealistic and he knows it, but he’s able to immerse himself in the fantasy of you wanting him when you’re begging him, able to delude himself into believing, if only for a bit, that you’re just as frantic for his love and affection as he is yours. 

If you really want to get him going, a surefire way to have his cock springing to life and his heart lurching into his throat is to praise him a bit, then following it up with a plea for him to keep going. Tell him that it’s s’good, you feel so good Feitan, please don’t stop, just like that, fuck! 

Tell him that you belong to him, that you’re his, that your cunt is his cunt, that you want him to come inside, that you need more more more. He might tell you that you’re greedy, grunting out something about you being a greedy slut, but the twitching of his cock inside you and the way his fingers tighten their hold on you will show you that he isn’t as unaffected by your words as he’d like to pretend. 

He really just likes knowing that sex affects you just as much as it affects him, so please, please beg him - he’ll almost always do exactly what you want, almost like it’s a reward.

(After all, just getting to touch you is reward enough for him.)

Sensory deprivation

Because it takes Feitan so long to grow comfortable with letting himself be truly vulnerable with you (especially in the context of sex), he finds ways to get around this mental roadblock, so that he can experience everything he wants to without giving up any of his control. 

And one of his favorite ways to do that is to limit your senses - specifically, Feitan loves to blindfold you. He doesn’t really want you to be looking at him during sex, too nervous and awkward and embarrassed, because once he gets inside you, his control over his facial expressions, his bodily responses, his everything is severely limited. 

It takes all his will power to stop himself from coming prematurely, especially towards the beginning of his sexual relationship with you, and he’ll be damned if he lets you see the way his face crumples when he slips inside your wet heat, his dark brows drawing together and lips parting, eyes squeezing shut while he wills himself to calm down, to take deep breaths and not let himself get carried away. 

He doesn’t want you to be able to look at him, but he wants to be able to see you - he wants full viewing pleasure of your body, and while this method does block seeing your eyes get all glassy and pleasured, it’s better this way. 

This way, he gets to stare at the way your tits bounce as he fucks you, the soft fat jiggling and practically begging to be groped and squeezed at. 

This way, he can stare at your ass he pounds into it, grabbing a handful of cheek in each hand and kneading the fat, spreading them apart and taking a peek at your pert, cute little asshole, seeing the curve and arch of your back. 

He can let himself relax more this way, allowing his face to present every emotions and sensation he’s feeling, and he can let himself indulge in some of his more embarrassing urges - like reaching out to cup your hips when your bodies are facing each other, his fingers never quite brushing your skin but awfully close. 

He’ll lean in close as if to kiss you, letting his breath fan over your lips but never actually closing the distance, just indulging in the smell of you and the idea of kissing you. He’s still very reserved, but this way he can do all the things he fantasizes about when he’s alone at night, his mind wandering to you and his body growing cold and lonely. 

Plus, Feitan gains a certain amount of control this way - he gets to choose what happens to you, and because you can’t see anything, you’ll have no idea what’s coming next. 

Will it be his hands, a vibrator, his cock? 

You won’t know, and Feitan likes it that way - he wants to keep you guessing, to leave you unsure and awaiting his next move with baited breath. 

He just likes how dependent you are when he’s got the black blindfold tied around your eyes, so you’d better get used to it - he’s not good at compromising, after all. 

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Feitan doesn’t harbor any desire to hurt you, there’s a certain allure that blood holds for him. 

Of course, he doesn’t want to actually draw blood from you (the thought of you being in pain because of him makes any boner of his die immediately), but he discovers - by accident - that there’s a solution to mixing the two. 

There’s a way to combine the two things that turn him on most - you, of course, and the slightest bit of blood - in a way that is safe for you yet still arousing, still enough to get him panting and his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight. 

That is, Feitan discovers that he absolutely loves getting intimate with you while you’re on your period. It doesn’t matter if you get horrible cramps, mood swings, or are even totally unaffected - you’re sensitive, body needy and practically begging to be mounted and fucked, and who is Feitan to deny you?

Once he grows comfortable with intimacy, you’ll never be able to pull him away from you once the blood shows up in your panties. He’s obsessive, tracking your period for you, making sure that he knows the exact days that you’ll be starting and stopping. 

He likes the way you respond to his touch so easily, your pretty pussy all messy and red and puffy, even the slightest touch making you buck your hips and gasp his name. 

It’s euphoric, and when he slips inside you it becomes incredibly difficult to not immediately orgasm - you’re just so wet, so warm and wonderfully lubricated, and the sight of blood staining his cock when he pulls back to thrust back in makes his head spin. 

You’re perfect when you’re menstruating, and you’ll notice he’ll be in a much better mood once you shyly report that it started, could you pick up some more pads for me? (He toys with the idea of actually collecting your blood, investing in one of those menstrual cups that you can remove once it’s full, just because the concept of drinking it is enough to make him fidget, the thought taboo and dirty and so very enticing.) 

You can’t really say no to him normally, but you especially can’t deny him when it’s your time of the month - you will be getting fingered, fucked, even facefucked, if only because Feitan needs you, your pretty blood and pretty body making him go crazy in a way he didn’t think possible. 

You make him go crazy in ways he didn’t think possible.

“Feitan, I - we can’t, not tonight.” You tell him, averting your gaze away from his as his hands grab at the old t-shirt and short you’re wearing. Unconsciously, your hand travels to your stomach, laying idly and making Feitan’s eyes narrow. 

“Why not?” He asks, his voice clipped and suspicious. You didn’t often tell him no, and although there’s a bit of doubt swimming in his chest, he wants to know why you’re suddenly not welcoming his touch. You’ve reached the point of leaning into his cold, harsh hands, so why’re you suddenly being so standoffish? He doesn’t like it, and his hands stay idly resting on your shirt hem. 

You’re embarrassed, he can tell, but he doesn’t drop the issue. Instead, he lets the silence sit heavily over the two of you, waiting for you to fill in the space. 

“Well, um, you see…” You start, before squeezing your eyes shut and squeaking out, “My period started yesterday and it’s too messy.”

Feitan blinks at you, unsure what to say. Your period? You were bleeding?

“Okay, and?” 

Your eyes peel open, daring to sneak a glance at your captor, who only stares at you, unimpressed. “Well, I mean, it’s going to be messy and gross and it probably smells bad and -”

“Shut up, we’re doing it.” He cuts you off, hand yanking at your shirt to bring it over your head. You grimace, already nervous for him to take off your shorts, because although you’re sure he knows what a period is, you’re sure he’s never actually been around a woman menstruating. Or at least, not sexually. 

Actually, you’re pretty sure he’s never been with a woman sexually in any capacity. 

He’s yanking at your shorts next, pulling down the material even as you voice your protests, but one scowl from him has you shutting up, embarrassment pricking up your spine as he grabs your thighs and manually spreads them, the scratchy blanket covering the bed biting into your ass. 

He’s staring, dark eyes a bit wider than normal, and you feel yourself shrinking in on yourself, the embarrassment eating you alive. Why was he staring? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Feitan..?” You mumble, biting your lip and letting your arms cover your bloated stomach. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, to the point where you think you might see bruises tomorrow. 

His eyes slowly, painstakingly, drag up from your exposed cunt to meet your face, and to your surprise you see the slightest dusting of a blush on his cheeks, as if he too was embarrassed. But before you can say anything, he’s rushing forward, lips pressing against yours in a messy, clumsy kiss, full of teeth knocking against teeth and too much spit. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but just as soon as he rushed in he’s pulling back, instead moving to bring his face level with your leaking hole. 

Feitan can’t stop staring - there’s blood everywhere, and while he’d normally be thrown into a state of panic at seeing so much of your own blood staining your skin, somehow this is different. Somehow the sight of it staining your pussy, the red color all along your inner thighs and part of your asscheek making his mouth water, his cock already painfully hard. It’s so pretty - red against your skin, your lips visibly swollen, your little clit engorged and peaking out. You look good, like something he wants to taste, and before he knows what’s happening he’s diving forward, tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. 

You taste like iron and musk and something oddly sweet, and immediately he’s diving in to taste more, tongue lapping at you like some dog in heat as he keeps his fingers firmly digging into your thighs. He can barely hear your sound of shock at his actions, too overwhelmed by your taste and your scent. 

“F-feitan, stop!” You manage to force out, eyes squeezed shut as your hips shake and stutter. “It’s too much, I’m too sensitive, I can’t!”

Feitan stops at that, pulling away from your body with blood smeared all over his lips, chin and nose, staring at you with a look in those wide, dark eyes that makes you shiver. He looks like an animal like this, something primal and carnal - and when your eyes peek down to see his cock - throbbing, bright red and stiff against his stomach - you can’t help but feel as if you’re some sort of prey caught in his jaws. 

“Not too much, you will survive.” Is all he says, before he’s resuming his actions, bringing a finger up to prod inside your walls while his tongue gets to work on your clit. His fingers curl and rub, but you’re so damn tight, your walls impossibly clenched, and it makes Feitan grunt against you. You’re even wetter inside than normal, the blood practically running down his hands in copious amounts, making it remarkably easy to slide his fingers in and out. Almost too easy, it would seem. 

You’re blabbering his name, the stimulation hurtling you towards your orgasm much quicker than normal, your heightened sensitivity and emotions turning you into a moaning, whimpering mess. And Feitan loves it - those dark eyes are peering up at you from over the crest of your pelvic bone, blood tinging his cheeks and visible to you. 

When he angles his fingers to press against the spongey, sensitive spot he knows you love, you suddenly gasp, a hand flying to tangle into his hair, the other gently pinching and rolling at your nipple. 

“Feitan, oh fuck Feitan ‘m gonna, I’m gonna come-!” You’re squealing, something that makes Feitan cock a brow, the pure desperation in your body as you squirm under his touch making him feral, his hips beginning to rut against the bed before he can even think about it. You just look so sexy like this, with your nipples swollen and sensitive, your cunt all warm and wet and sweet, and he’ll watch with wide eyes as you orgasm around him, your walls clenching down so hard that they force his fingers out, his tongue and the circles he’s drawing on your clit the only thing grounding you. Your back arches fully up off the bed, tits thrust out into the air, and Feitan bites back a groan as his own pleasure hits a peak, the blanket ruined as cum oozes from his tip and seeps into the fabric. 

You’re shaking, literally fucking shaking, and Feitan finds himself trembling too, his hands not as steady against your skin. If he’d known you would taste like this, how sensitive you’d be, how easy it is to get you orgasming while on your period, he would’ve done this long ago. 

You’re out of it, blinking up at the ceiling and heaving uneven breaths, but even as sensitive as he is from his last orgasm, Feitan is quickly shuffling to his knees, grabbing the base of his cock and sinking into you, face contorting into something between a grimace and a gasp. You’re so damn warm, and he groans lowly as he sees the way his cock has pink slick all over it when he pulls back, a mix of your blood, your slick and his cum decorating his length. 

Fucking you is heaven, the way you clutch at him and writhe, nearly screaming his name as you come on his cock, and Feitan can only grit his teeth and go harder, spurred on by the way your walls are caressing his length, massaging and gripping like a fucking vice. 

It feels good, and by the time he’s emptied himself inside you, he’s already made a mental note to mark down when your next period will be - just so he can get ready, so that he can get prepared. So that he can prepare you, too, because you won’t simply be allowed rest after the first night. 

God no, not if you’re like this the whole time.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan portor #hxh smut #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_feitan portor

[cryingisnecessaryfanfics]

Tartaglia x reader nsfw 💦

fatui! reader,,, gender neutral until **** afab afterwards. might make an amab version tho. Not spell-checked or anything, this took me months to write lmao.

(this was written to satisfy my own blood kink, in no way am I implying this would happen irl or that I support this irl)

TW/CW: Wounds, blood, stitches, blood kink, pain kink, sadomasochism, dom/sub-themes, bottom(switch?) Tartaglia, blow/hand job, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, Childe cries, praise kink, sliiiiight degradation, overstim, use of the word pussy, uh reader cuts him >.>, multiple orgasms... I think that's it?

summary: Reader gets put with childe to babysit him and gets turned on when he gets hurt lmao. Then smut.

Words: 3,985

The bustling of Liyue harbor fades into the distance as you walk side by side with the 11th fatui harbinger, Tartaglia. Or Childe, as you were supposed to call him in public. The man wasn't like anything you’d heard about him. There was nothing cold or ruthless about him, and in the time you’d been accompanying him, he’d been nothing but gleeful and cheery. If anything at this point you were starting to think he was more of a nuisance than a threat.

Nonetheless, you continued to supervise this man-child of a harbinger, there was a promise of compensation waiting for you at the end of the two weeks you would be together and you’d be dammed if you’d give up a job like that.

But sometimes you really consider throwing it all out the window and decking that son of a bitch right in the face.

“Comrade~!” A blob of orange crosses in front of your vision and you roll your eyes before focusing on the face now inches from your own. “You’d better pay attention or you’ll walk right into that hoard of hilichurls.” He points to the left and you follow his hand over to a mob of hilichurls bunched together and dancing about.

“Oh.” Is all you say and he laughs.

“Are you feeling well, comrade? It seems like your head's not in the game.” He lifts an eyebrow at you and continues before you can respond. “Don’t worry, you can sit here and rest while I defeat them.”

“Yeah like you can take 20 hilichurls at once,” you respond with a roll of your eyes, “I’ll help you, dumbass.” And you start to pull your sword out from where it sits at your side.

But Childe stops you with a hand and speaks again. “I don’t like that you underestimate me, comrade. I’ll handle it and you watch so you can learn a thing or two about how to take on a large number of enemies.”

“Whatever,” You sigh, “just don’t come crying to me when you get trampled.” And with that, he smirks and runs over to the mob of enemies.

Watching him fight is interesting, to say the least. For one, instead of trying anything with that bow he carries about, he goes straight for his hydro daggers and starts slashing this and that like a madman. He takes down three hilichurls at once with one calculated slash and laughs manically as blood splatters his clothes.

His dry cleaning must suck, you think before focusing on his movements once again. The hilichurls start to circle around him and close in and he kicks one to the side before putting his daggers together. In the process, a brave hilichurl reaches out and slashes his torso with one of its claws. Childe yells out in pain and for a moment, perhaps only a second or two, you see his jaw tighten and a glaze pass over his eyes. You’re awestruck with the image of his pain written on his face still in your mind long after he pours elemental energy into his weapon and takes out the whole lot of enemies in one move.

His cry of pain replays in your mind again and before you realize it your eyes have widened and your face has gone red. Childe, now standing in the murder scene, starts to turn towards you and you rush to fix your face and calm your racing heart before he can see you ogling.

When you see his face again he’s panting and out of breath, a smug smile still there despite his exhaustion. Your eyebrows furrow as you lock your eyes on the gash in his side, trying your hardest to push out the desire that floods into your mind as you study its severity.

“Learn anything?” He says as walks towards you again, and you make sure to note the strain in his voice for… medical reasons, before responding.

“Yeah, how to get yourself hurt while being reckless.” And you take one of his arms to pull over your shoulder.

“Don’t- be a prick,” He says despite the little breath of pain he lets out in the middle. It goes straight to your stomach and you look away while walking back onto the path.

“Shut up.” You say and an awkward silence settles between the two of you. The only sound filling up the lack of words is Childe’s ragged and unsteady breathing, which not only makes your heartbeat quicken but also feeds into the growing lump in your throat.

It takes a while before anyone speaks again, and this time it’s when the medical practice is in sight.

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Childe speaks quietly, a little hiss falling from his mouth when you startle from his words. “I’ve had worse wounds.”

You roll your eyes, “trust me I’m holding back from dropping you on the ground and leaving you there. I, however, have a conscience that would be a bitch to handle if I left you to rot.”

He laughs at that, a rough and breathy sound you’d never heard from him before. Something that made your annoyance with him soften in the slightest bit. He breathes in as if he’s about to say something but a nurse gasps and runs over to take him from you before you can hear it.

-

By the time you see Childe again, he’s back to his usual self, you know because the nurse is flirting with him as she hands him off to you and he’s looking at her with his signature grin. She tells you to clean his wounds before and after bed before flashing Childe one more smile and retreating back into the clinic.

“She was nice,” You say sarcastically and start walking towards Childe’s expensive house.

“Not gonna help me walk this time?” Childe pouts and you send him a glare. He seems to get the message because he starts to ramble about something while you walk to his place.

Luckily the walk to his house is short and you make it there just as the sun starts to slip out of sight. When he lets you in you take off your shoes at the door and follow him through the house.

It’s a bit awkward watching him walk into his bedroom fully expecting you to follow, even more awkward when he pulls off his shirt and throws it onto the queen-sized bed.

“Wanna get the first aid kit, comrade?” He says, and you stare blankly at him. “It's in the bathroom through that door.” You nod and walk over to the door, pushing it open and flicking on the light.

The bathroom is as expensive looking as the rest of the house, a huge bathtub and a shower with glass doors sit on one side of the room. A toilet and sink on the other. You head over to the bathroom counter with expensive-looking marble and sort through the drawers until you find the first aid kit.

When you walk back into the bedroom Childe is sitting on the edge of his bed, unwrapping the bandages on his torso. You take a moment to study him, the way his arms and back are filled with all sorts of scars. It makes something click in your mind. Makes your stomach flip over and your grip tighten around the first aid kit in your hands.

“Going to stand there all day?” He doesn’t even look up as he speaks. His fingers, now gloveless, run over the bandages on his stomach, he pulls the last of them off and looks up at you with a quirked eyebrow.

You are pulled from your daze when his sapphire eyes meet yours. You blink once before averting your eyes and crossing the room to get to him. You sigh as you realize the awkward situation to come, only praying the man in front of you doesn’t notice the redness at the tips of your ears as you kneel before him.

The process is wordless, you don’t dare glance up at Childe’s face, nor does he remark about your flushed state. You open the first aid kit and take out the antiseptic wipes, holding your breath as you reach up to touch his stomach. The wound is long and red, stretching from one side of his chest all the way down to the waistline of his pants, where the very end disappears under his clothes. You work carefully around the stitches, trying not to pay too much attention to the way his muscles twitch when you get a little too close. You shift positions, placing one hand on his thigh to stabilize yourself. His leg flinches slightly in response causing your hand to slip against his wound.

“Sorry,” You say and instinctively look up at his face for signs of pain. He sucks in a breath and when you see his face your stomach drops. He’s red, biting his lip and blushing furiously under half-lidded eyes.

“It’s fine,” He mutters through his teeth and you gulp as a pang of desire goes straight through you.

“Tartaglia,” You murmur, the hand on his thigh subconsciously squeezing as your lust grows.

“Fuck,” he breathes and it’s nothing like anything you’d heard him say before. Your eyes dart down to the slight bulge in his pants and then back up as if you couldn’t look for too long.

You set down the wipe in your hand and bravely reach up to touch his neck. He looks at you again, wide-eyed, with a whisper of your name on his lips.

“Can I…?” You trail off, not sure of what you’re asking for before he nods and you’re pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips meet in a rush, unsure at first before Childe grows restless and deepens the kiss while taking your face in his hands and tilting his head. It sparks electricity within your stomach and you reciprocate with just as much need.

When your tongue brushes against his lips, he opens his mouth almost instantly, eagerly accepting your tongue as it tangles with his. While your mouths dance together, you let the hand at the back of Childe’s neck trail down to his chest and run your fingers over his skin. He groans into the kiss while you roam your way around his body, eventually finding what you had been looking for.

It only takes the slight brush of your thumb against the tie of one of his stitches for him to moan in pain. He breaks away from the kiss to sigh into your mouth, the kind of exhale that shakes and begs for another breath right after.

“Does my pain amuse you,” He says against your lips, delight in his voice despite the lack of smile on his face.

“It's not amusement,” You reply with a harsh swipe of your finger against his wound. You savor the way he cries out before finishing your response. “It’s lust.”

“Sadist,” He accuses with a grin and you smile back at him, your hand falling from his injury down to the desire pressing hard against his pants.

“Masochist,” You tease back, pushing your hand down gently on his crotch.

“Hah-“ His head falls to your shoulder, his hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. “I guess I’ve been found out.”

He pulls you into another desperate kiss before you can respond and you happily accept it. You push down on his crotch again and his hips buck into your hand. You hear him whine when you pull your hand away. His lips part from yours, his eyes lazily pleading with you to touch him again.

“Aw, look at that, you’ve pulled your stitches,” You coo and he hisses in pain when you gather the blood leaking from him on your finger. You’re entranced at the sight of his blood on your hand, the crimson liquid staining your skin.

“You look beautiful when you’re bleeding you know.” His eyes widen at your statement, following your hand as you reach for the spare dagger strapped to his thigh. You pull it from its sheath and tap it against his skin.

He breathes your name again, a hand coming down to touch himself.

“Ah-ah,” you tut, pressing the knife harder against him. “I’ll help you with that later. If you bleed for me.” He closes his eyes and furrows his brows as if debating whether he could wait that long.

“Fuck, fine, just hur-” you interrupt him with a pull of his dagger, watching his face contort as you drag it across his torso.

His breath catches and you savor the way it sounds while your eyes dart back down to watch the red liquid fill the shallow cut you had made.

“That's not so bad is it?” You give the wound a little kiss and he tenses under the touch of your lips, the feeling of your chest pressed against his desire making him restless.

“I- cant take it,” He pauses, “I need you so bad, god, please.”

You sigh and while you had wanted to draw more blood from him, the sound of his plead led you to comply. “When you ask like that how can I refuse?” You mumble, putting his knife back in its rightful place before making your hands busy on his belt.

His own hands fumble to help you while murmuring his thanks. When his belt is tossed to the side somewhere in his massive room, you unzip his pants and take his length out of its confinements. He moans when he feels your skin against his own, almost sobbing when you close your hand around him and roughly jerk upwards.

“So good, so so good.” He’s whispering as you start to find a satisfying rhythm. His hands fist the bed sheets and he starts to rock his hips with the pull of your hand.

“Ah- just like that,” He gasps out and you take the opportunity to overwhelm him. You lean towards him, kissing the tip of his member before opening your mouth and licking his slit.

He lets out the most elicit moan you’ve heard so far and opens his previously shut eyes to stare down at you. There’s a glaze over his eyes and he twitches at the sight of your mouth on him.

He breaks when you suck on his tip and his pleasure pours into your mouth in thick ropes. You don’t take the time to let it sit on your tongue before you’re swallowing and releasing him from your mouth with a pop. You move to stand in front of him, tilting his head to look up at you with his hazy blue eyes.

**** afab reader ****

“I helped you out so now you’re going to help me too, yeah?” You smirk as his eyes widen and then narrow again. “It's only fair after all.” You watch the haze leave his eyes and the desire pour in.

“Gladly.” He murmurs before slipping his hands under your shirt and sliding it up. It's stripped off you in seconds, his hands tracing your waist up your chest, and then down your shoulders. You shiver at the touch of his warm hands on your skin, the softness of his fingers, and the way he glides down your body like flowing water. You let out a shaky breath as he reaches the waistband of your pants, his fingertips slip under and all too quickly he's pulled them down and you’re entirely bare in a matter of seconds. He pulls you down to sit on his lap your privates just inches away from his.

You share a breath together for a moment gripping his shoulders as you settle into a new and heated position. Your thighs are pressed against Childe's, his chest pressed against yours. You're both bare and vulnerable, exposed for the other to see.

And then his fingers find their way to your clit, a small gasp escaping you as he starts to rub it in circles. It's sensitive at first but soon pleasure starts to rush up your stomach and down your legs.

“Did seeing me in pain make you this wet?” He teases and you have to choke back a moan when he gathers a bit of slick from your hole.

“Shut up and do what you’re told harbinger,” You mumble, hand coming up to grip the hair at the back of his head. But he just grins in response and slips one of his fingers into your heat. Your grip tightens with the sudden invasion sending a burst of pleasure down your thighs. A moan rips its way through your throat.

"Fuck- Tartaglia," you can't help but whisper as his finger curls inside you. Your head falls back, lips parting as you soak in the pleasure. He seems to hit all the right spots making your head spin and your vision blurry.

"Is this good enough for you sweetheart?" He says and you can't help but groan in annoyance.

"Don't- be a tease," your voice comes out shaky but you take the opportunity to tug his hair harshly.

He whines in response and another finger finds its way into your heat.

"Good boy." You praise and his fingers start to pick up the pace. You lean into his frame as the pressure building up in your stomach gets more intense.

"God, don't stop." You moan out, mind far too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside of you to care what you say. Your release is getting closer and closer as his fingers hit all the right spots. All it takes is the rub of his thumb against your clit and you're seeing stars.

Your thighs squeeze together and a chill runs through your whole body. Faintly, in the back of your mind, you're aware that you've clamped down on childe's fingers, which now struggle to move inside you.

When you're finally able to see straight you look at childe's blue eyes and lazily smile at him.

He grins back, "That feel good, baby?" He murmurs and you huff a little laugh in response.

"Better than good," you pant out and rest your head on his shoulder.

"God you looked so hot like that." He mumbles almost as if to himself. That's when you notice the pressure against your thigh and the fact that he's painfully hard again.

You place a hand on his chest and whisper, "Lay down, I want more." You don't fail to notice the way his lower part practically jumps at your words or the way he quietly groans at the thought.

Nonetheless, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him before he leans back as you had told him to do.

You grin at him while you straddle his hips and hover above him. Childe moans when your body makes contact with him, watching the way you slowly take him into yourself. When you finally bottom out Childe's hands fly to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises. He let out a sort of choked noise, his eyes closed and mouth open. He was truly the picture of sex, hair messy and cheeks flushed, his muscles all tensed with need.

"Don't move." He chokes out and it's raspy and strained, undeniably attractive. So much so your stomach drops and you clench around him.

The moan he lets out from your action is louder than any of his others. "Don't!" He cries and takes multiple deep breaths, trying his best to calm down and get used to the sensation of being inside of you.

"Awh is my pussy too much for this big strong harbinger?" You tease and he grits his teeth. "Relax baby, you can come as many times as you want inside me."

He just groans in response too lost in the bliss of you all around him, invading his senses.

Naturally, you long to see him completely fucked out and start to move despite his words. Slowly raising yourself up with your legs and dropping back down onto him, hitting just the right spot every time.

"Fuck, I- I'm gonna cum if you do that." He's barely able to think clearly as he rushes to say what he can.

"Go on then." You start to pick up your pace, "Fill me up real good, pretty boy." Your voice is strained by now, but the slap of your skin and the wet sounds that fill the room drown you out anyway. Besides, you both are a moaning mess, desperate to reach as many highs as you can take.

Just as he warned Childe reaches his climax quickly and he's so fucked out, he uses his strength to slam you down and hold you there while he pours all he's got into your pussy.

He cums hard, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back while he digs his nails into your skin. The pain is a nice mix with the throbbing of your heat and the warmth flooding into your body.

You watch in awe as he rides it out, little tears and gasps escaping him when you move even slightly. You know he's done when his hands fall from your hips and he relaxes into the bed with newfound exhaustion.

"Don't tell me you're already spent?" You murmur, leaning forward to move his hair sticking to his forehead, his sapphire eyes blinking open and wincing with the shift of your hips.

"C'mon baby, I know you've got more in you." You whisper against his lips, eyes half-lidded staring into his, as you start to roll your hips.

He inhales sharply and his hands move to grip the bedsheets. "Too much, fuck, too much too much." He whines it out, his face contorting in pain.

"Awh does it hurt baby boy?" And you fake a little pout to hide the grin that threatens to spread on your face.

"Yes!" He chokes out between moans eyes brimming with tears. "More, hah, please."

You let go of the smile, sitting back up and roughly bouncing up and down on him.

It's painful at first to take him so roughly so suddenly but you push through it knowing pleasure was on the other side. And after the pain numbs the pleasure comes cascading over your body. It's overwhelming just how much floods your senses. The way your hips become desperate and wild, the way all your muscles tense in anticipation.

And then it all crashes. You cry out as you hit your high falling onto Childe's chest and clenching down on his length. Your vision goes white, and you gasp and gasp for air while your body trembles and shakes. And though you're too lost to notice, Childe cums right after you hugging you against him while you both come down from the high.

When you can finally breathe you manage to separate your body from his and fall to the side of him. Instantly relaxing into his expensive and comfortable bed.

You both lay there for a moment just breathing next to each other and processing what just happened.

"Holy shit." Is all Childe says, and the tension snaps, laughter falling from your lips despite your soreness. Childe soon joins you with his own soft chuckles, taking your hand in his.

The night ends in a fit of giggles and shaky legs as you clean up each other. Finally re-bandaging the wound that started it all, and the bonus one next to it.

You fall asleep on Childe's big comfy bed together, savoring the way he feels in your arms. (and the way his big ass bed is probably memory foam and so damn soft)

****

hope you enjoyed :3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #childe x you #childe imagines #sub genshin #sub childe #sub tartaglia #childe x y/n #tartaglia genshin impact #childe tartaglia ajax #s and m #masochist sub #sadist reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin #afab reader

[moronkombat]

Erm could u perhaps do a nsfw fic for havik x gn reader including sadomasochism, knife play, kinda bloody/gory n stuff like that please? Its fine if ur not comfortable with it.

- Let's Get Numb - tw: blood, gore, violence, sadomasochism

They are alone. Alone with everyone. The decay, the rot , it clings to their skin and the air is rich with iron. Both of them so painted by each other, two masterpieces crafted by expert hands. The method of execution not one with soft strokes. Never would they lay a gentle path.

A paint brush becomes a blade, sharp and stinging. The liquid to color the canvass a rich cherry that pools and pools. What is this canvass? They are.

Nails coated in the tissues and blood mark their way down a back most exposed. Further and further they drag, parting the skin that binds their flesh. A groan, a cry, a scream the pain rocks through their body and their bones rattle.

It all such a delight all such a wonderous display. Havik purrs into laugh, stained eyes admiring his work but this merely the beginning. A licentious tongue wraps around his digits and the raw and untarnished taste of crimson has his eyes rolling.

That very same tongue swipes over exposed teeth before a hand grips a chin. He looks at them then and the crazed gaze he has is reflected back at him.

Hands are upon him now, slithering and searching. A distraction. Teeth are now upon the skin of shoulder and oh how they rip and tear. Blood pools in their mouth, a special treat, and teeth press into flesh deeper and deeper.

Havik seethes through his teeth, a breath sucked in while a face contorts wicked. His hand would push the back of their head wanting those teeth to tear again and again. And so they did while sharp nails scratch at his chest.

Hips roll and buck up into them, his cock sheathed in a veil of warmth. Atop his lap his muse sits, twisting and rolling hips that are covered in bruises. His gift to them and Havik had much more to give.

A bloodied tongue laps at his wound not to soothe but to taste and gather his crimson. Wet, it moves up the length of his aching neck. Up and up until a gore covered tongue begins to swipe over teeth exposed between a mangled cutis.

There is that purr again and he laughs low and grumbled as his partner smears his own blood across his face and mouth. They to not stop there, no not even close. Their tongue pries those jaws open and blood and saliva mingle and now Havik tastes iron.

His hands grip at their hips, and purple bruises are bleached white under his pressure before nails press and rip into them. The feeling of you tightening around his length does not go unnoticed and he scratches at your bruises continuously.

It is then he feels the sharp bite on his tongue, their teeth bursting that wet and fleshy muscle and the blood pours. Drip, drip, drop it runs down his chin, his chest and oh how it burns. He grabs their hair, forcing their neck to be that like a crane and still they smirk with lips coated in dripping blood

The reflection of light is caught on the curve of a blade as he fetches it. That neck of theirs exposed and vulnerable. The chill they receive as that knife's edge so lightly traces down the length of their craned neck has eyes fluttering.

Soon those eyes are wide and their lungs are burning. The tip of the blade cutting across the curve of their jaw. Eyes so manic watch as they yell in pain and Havik wants more more and more. The blade his brought from them and then to him and it begins to carve.

It cuts and shreds the skin of chest wide and deep and Havik laughs louder and louder. His own neck now craned back as he writhes in the joyous agony the two of them create. Lips upon his teeth, hands pulling his hair and yet again their tongues meet while he continues to fuck them raw. They will continue this path. They will carve each to pieces.

'Til they don't feel nothing.

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 smut #mortal kombat smut #mk havik #havik #havik x reader #tw: violence #tw: bl00dplay #tw: knifeplay #tw: gore

[eemcintyre]

Wicked Game (Terry Silver)

TW- bondage, sadism/masochism, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, denial, control, overstimulation, humiliation, gagging, power exchange/imbalance, allusions to objectification/human furniture, hurting oneself for another’s pleasure; reader is inexperienced/a virgin, age gap, sub drop.

Summary- Terry Silver takes an interest in one of his adult students; an innocent and inexperienced girl with an obvious crush on him. After they start a relationship, he invites her to explore her interests in power exchange and sadomasochism.

IT'S FINE OK EVERYTHING'S FINE I'M FINE. Anyway this one goes out to all the TIG sluts like me and please be kind because I'm beiNG VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW xoxo please and thank you

It was thoroughly unusual to see the Cobra Kai dojo so quiet. Normally, as the most popular dojo in the Valley since the resurged interest in karate, the building hummed with activity from its large number of youth and adult students. But this afternoon, the only people in sight were a few members of what appeared to be a cleaning crew.

Thinking about it further, Y/N realized it made more sense- it was just the start of a new school year, so the younger students were probably busy acclimating to their classes and the adults with such children were just as busy taking care of them. The next tournament also wouldn’t take place for months. Y/N decided that she was thankful for the quiet, as she had begun to worry about the number of people who witnessed her frequenting Sensei Silver’s office and what they might start to think about why that was. Especially because, if their wondering led them to more scandalous lines of thinking, they wouldn’t be wrong.

She made her way past the cleaning crew, trying her best not to undo their progress on the floors as she made her way to the opposite end of the spacious main room, toward the entrance to a stairway. She knew this flight of stairs well, having traveled up the steps many times over the last few months- the dark grey corridor, dimly lit by cool fluorescent lights, would be an ominous and mysterious tunnel, did it not lead to the thrill of Terry Silver’s personal attention.

From the moment Y/N had joined the dojo’s adult class, Terry had taken a special interest in her training, engaging in what seemed to be more one-on-one teaching than he gave to his other students. He also took an interest in her personal life, asking about what she did outside of their classes and checking in with her anytime she seemed to be having an off day. And while Y/N kept it within her innermost thoughts, she wouldn’t lie to herself that she did enjoy the special attentiveness. While the chances of it leading anywhere were slim to none, she’d been pining for Silver from afar since the beginning.

It wasn’t just something, it was everything about him- the fact that he was so much older than her; learned, well-rounded and traveled and still able to move like he was in his prime. The long, soft-looking curls of hair in his unique, trademark ponytail and the frosty blue eyes that she could feel in her knees. The smallest bit of praise on her technique or obedience to his commands would give her butterflies for the rest of the day. It had all earned him a starring role in the imagery of her night and day-dreams.

As someone who had dated very few people in life thus far, let alone ever had sex, these dreams were ones she’d never had about anyone else and didn’t fully understand. While observing his demonstrations to the class of various moves, Y/N found herself imagining, even wishing for that carefully cultivated and controlled strength to be directed toward her. He seemed to relish the thought of inflicting pain on his enemies, and she found it exciting to imagine him experiencing that same relish because of her. But the idea that she might want someone to hurt her was totally foreign, and trying to sort out the feelings left her confused and disgusted. She didn’t know much about that sort of lifestyle, but she knew that it was generally frowned upon as gross and unnatural. Thus, rather than explore it deeper, she tucked the matter deep inside and tried not to analyze it, merely shyly enjoying the thrill.  

As well as she believed herself to be hiding this array of conflicting feelings, Terry could see right through and, as a result, was taken with the need to possess and deflower her innocent, unsuspecting sweetness. The idea that this reserved, weak little thing had so obviously never been touched, or really romantically pursued by anyone before, but was head over heels for him, who at this point had seen and done it all, was downright intoxicating. Every time he caught her staring at him and she quickly looked away, cheeks flushed and hands fumbling, he felt drunk with power and arousal. Thankfully his gi was long enough to cover what she did to him until he could take care of it. 

One evening's particularly challenging session of board breaking had left Y/N with a bloodied hand full of cuts and splinters. After the rest of the students filtered out of the building, post-attending to their own wounds, Sensei Silver took it upon himself to bandage her hand.

As they sat in closer proximity than ever before, her hand firmly clasped by his own in order to wrap it, she’d expressed how embarrassed and disappointed she was to have torn up her hand so badly without managing to break even a single board. Expecting a lecture from her strict teacher, she was shocked when he, while holding a steady, scrutinizing gaze, replied:

“I’m quite pleased with how hard you worked today. Board breaking doesn’t happen overnight; you have to toughen up your hand first.”

He emphasized his words with a light shake of her wrist as he finished his bandaging work. She managed a small, slightly comforted smile, but found herself unable to return the intense eye contact, glancing down at her knees.

“So, why did you do that?” he asked, finally breaking the heavy silence.

“What?” She stared, disoriented, noticing that he hadn’t yet let go of her hand even though he’d finished tending to it.

“If you didn’t realize that what you did today was part of strengthening your hand, then why did you push yourself to the point of bleeding? There were plenty of other students who knew the purpose of what they were doing and still didn’t push themselves that hard. Why?”

The only answer she could give didn’t entirely make sense to her, and yet she knew it was true nonetheless.

“I guess… I wanted to please you, Sensei, by trying as hard as I could. You always say that fear, pain, and defeat don’t exist in this dojo, and I would have felt like I was giving in to those things and letting you down if I didn’t keep going. I was just trying to do what you told me.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you willingly hurt yourself because you thought it would please me?”

She found herself increasingly distracted by his prolonged, firm grip on her hand, although she didn’t try to extricate herself. She reddened, dizziness and heat twinging and twisting in her stomach. It was such an odd way for him to describe it, and yet it wasn’t untrue.

“I… I guess you could say that… maybe. I don’t know…”

He backed off of the subject after that, not wanting to alienate her by pushing too far and too fast. She was going to require a delicate approach.

But over the following weeks he made it clear that he was just as interested in her as she was in him, and she came to the realization that dating him might not be as remote of a possibility as she’d thought. When he finally proposed the idea of going out, she was hesitant. Not only had her small number of previous partners never included someone so much older, who was so intense and intimidating and also an authority figure in her life, but she didn’t want to ruin the good thing she had going with her Cobra Kai lessons if things didn’t work out between them. But she had taken so few chances in her life, and she decided it would be stupid to pass the opportunity up just because she was scared. This was the dojo where fear did not exist, after all.

They ended up going out for dinner one evening soon after and having a wonderful time, and then one wonderful time quickly led to another and another. Though the time that had passed was short in comparison to how slow she usually moved, they were getting more serious with each other than anyone Y/N had ever dated. But, in addition, she noted that something felt off, like it was lying unaddressed, simmering below the surface.

One night, while at his place after the day’s karate class, Terry was eager to experiment by testing her reactions to the subject of mixing pain and pleasure once again.

As the two of them were making out on the sofa in his study, he dug his thumb into a bruise she’d incurred during a sparring session. She shocked herself when she groaned into the kiss, half in pain and half to express the strange way it warmed her stomach and made her throb. She glanced up at him in alarm and he smirked triumphantly.

“That feel good?” he asked, and she froze. “Like it felt good splitting your hand open on those boards?”

“No…” He quirked an eyebrow at her skeptically, knowingly, warning her to tell the truth. “Yes… I don’t know.” She squirmed as he remained unmoving, unblinking.

“It’s alright, you know. Everyone feels conflicted about it at first, but lots of people are aroused by pain, obedience, deferring control to someone else.” She opened her mouth but couldn’t force any words out. He continued. “Do you want to submit to me? Wouldn’t it feel good to be protected, and cared for in every conceivable way; for someone else to make the decisions? You seem to long for it, and I can provide it.”

“I-I don’t know how- what all is involved…”  

“Well, I’m a teacher; I can teach you. If you’re curious, we can explore that side of yourself- together.” When she made no reply, he spoke to one of the fears he knew was gnawing at her. “No one but us would know. The risk is minimal- either you’ll realize it’s not the right fit for you, or you might feel more fulfilled than you ever have in your life.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic. And, so far, the chances she’d taken with Terry had paid off. What was another one? 

~

“Sensei,” she uttered the title loudly enough for him to hear, but softly enough to not disturb him if he was working on something important.

“Y/N,” he immediately looked away up the contents of his desk to her before flicking his wrist to glance at his watch. “Good, you’re right on time.”

It was thirty minutes before the start of the evening’s karate class, as he’d requested a couple of days before. He wouldn’t say why but did assure her that nothing was wrong. From the way he’d acted when making the arrangement, she figured that it was another invitation to explore their new dynamic, in which case she was still extremely nervous, but in an excited sort of manner, still self-conscious of her body and everything she wanted him to do to it.

For her very first foray into the practice, he’d suggested that, since she liked serving and following orders so much, she should assist him at his home office by holding and carrying papers and anything else he needed, including even making and bringing him drinks. The second time, he’d used her as a footstool while he read a book. Once, he had forbidden her to speak at all during a class, and most recently, they’d made out while her hands were tied. And he had been right- she was a natural. Relinquishing control to him was somehow incredibly exhilarating and a massive relief at the same time.

As Y/N approached his desk, he also rose from his chair, meeting her just in front of the desk and leaning languidly against it. He didn’t say anything else, wanting to study her expression as he maintained the silence. Shifting her weight from side to side, a weak smile twitching at her lips, he could tell that she was burning with curiosity and nervousness while trying to appear still casual and playful.  

“Why the early meeting?” she asked, not wanting to be assumptive if it was not, in fact, for romantic purposes. “And why here? Class starts before too long…” Her eyes flitted anxiously from his daunting form to the discomfortingly quiet room around them.

“Oh, this won’t interfere with class. I have something special for you in mind today. A different training session that I think is going to do you a lot better.” He intruded even closer into her personal space, reaching to grip her shoulders, and she looked up to meet his gaze, her heart thudding as she was enveloped by the scent of his cologne. “Instead of being with the other students today, I have a solo practice for you.”

“Okay,” she murmured, half in agreement and half as a question.

“Come here.” He was intent on preserving the feeling of mystery and anticipation. Taking her hand, he led her to a door off to their side.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you won’t disrupt the rest of the class.”

“What will I be doing? What is this?” Y/N laughed softly, trying to break the tension as her hands became damp with sweat, but he wouldn’t grant her any reprieve and clue her in. He just opened the door, revealing a small closet. While it also housed shelves of miscellaneous office supplies, her attention was primarily drawn to the center of the space, where a chair was positioned, a black duffel bag placed at its side.

“Sit down,” he ordered, and she proceeded shakily to take a seat in the chair, hands folded tightly together in her lap. While he still stood near the doorway of the closet, pacing, he continued speaking:

“This is a test of endurance. Not only will it help you with your Cobra Kai training, but it’s going to help you outside of that as well.”

Finally, he unzipped the mysterious duffel bag, and her mouth went dry when he pulled out several strands of rope.

“Ah, ah… just relax,” he instructed as she began to fidget uncomfortably in the chair, like she was about to get up. Stepping behind her, rope in one hand, he used his other free one to place a steadying touch on her shoulder.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked calmly. If Y/N was truly uncomfortable, he always made it clear that she should use it, as trust and safety were to be at the core of such a dynamic. Especially if he wanted to continue in his delicate approach to shaping her into his dearest little slut. She nodded, making a visible but not entirely successful effort to relax into the chair and his touch.

“This is for your own good,” he noted, beginning to loop the rope around her shoulders and arms, as well as her wrists, securing her upper half to the backboard of the chair. “Although I won’t deny that I enjoy seeing you like this.”

Moving to kneel in front of her, he joined her legs to the front two chair legs, spreading them slightly apart as she, torn between obedience and panic, squirmed feebly in the chair. She continued to sputter frantic nonsense phrases and he noted that her eyes were starting to water as he double-checked the secureness of the binds. Tight enough to contain her and give a slight burn, but not enough to bruise. Perfect for her first of such an experience.  

He removed another item from the duffel bag and Y/N let out a soft whine, her shaking growing more intense at the sight of a vibrator wand.

“Darling, I need you to focus.” He said firmly, using the last piece of rope to attach the vibrator to the chair, situated between her parted legs, snug against her clit over her underwear. His cock twitched in his pants when he saw that there was already a wet spot.

“You’re going to sit with this vibrator on your cunt while the rest of us are having class downstairs. You will not come.”

She began to let out an alarmed cry, a tear escaping down the side of her face, and Terry was reminded of the final touch needed to complete her 'look.'

“Oh, that’s right…”

He rifled through the bag for the last of the needed items, revealing a ball gag. That’s when Y/N really started to struggle against the ropes, but by then there was no point. As tears began to slide down her face at an increasing rate, she recoiled when he bent to lick them from her cheek. She was so incredibly disgusted with herself for how turned-on she felt in such a humiliating moment; the mix of emotions was so overwhelming that she wanted to run away somewhere and hide. 

“Wait!” she exclaimed as he held up the gag, about to fasten it behind her head, and, just in case she was about to safeword, he paused. “But h-how… I don’t think I can. What if someone comes in?”

“No one’s going to come in- they won’t hear you if you’re gagged, and I’ll have you safely locked inside with the lights off,” he smirked.

“I’m scared,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I feel so strange, and good, and gross and I don’t know what to think or do…”

“See, that’s why this is exactly what you need,” Terry replied knowingly, stroking the side of her head. “Don’t try to analyze everything right away. I need you to trust that you’re safe to leave all that to me- for at least a little while. You don’t have to see the bondage as limiting you. While your body is restrained, you can concentrate on your mind- but not for thinking and analyzing. The restraints are giving you the freedom to let go. Let go of your control and all of your worries. Your only responsibility is to do what I’ve asked you to do; to please me.”

“But isn’t that like being defeated?” she asked, recalling how defeat did not exist in Terry’s rulebook for life.

“Not at all. Not when you do it willingly and intentionally,” he replied simply, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Finally, she stilled, studying him thoughtfully through her glassy eyes. She was already so lovely like this; he could hardly imagine how beautiful she would be once he’d thoroughly exhausted her and erased every anxious, doubtful thought from her head. When several seconds stretched without her protesting further, he moved again to place the gag in her mouth. He was pleased when she parted her lips obediently. 

“I need you to be strong for me. However, if you reach the point where you need to safeword, you have this…” He pulled a small button device from his pocket, nestling it in her tied fist. “It’s good to challenge yourself, and I believe you can handle it. But I can’t have my little fighter taking on too much and really hurting herself, physically or emotionally. Good girls challenge themselves and try their best, but they also need to take care of themselves so they can fight the next day.”

He paused, leaning into her close enough for their faces to almost touch. His tone and expression were grave. “You press this and I will end class immediately and come up here to get you. Understood? Understood?”

She nodded and he took this as his go-ahead to turn on the vibrator. Though it was only on a medium setting, she immediately tensed back up and bucked her hips against the tip.

“Baby, you need to pace yourself,” he chuckled, placing his hands on her hips to still her. She whimpered softly, overwhelmed by how embarrassed and powerless she felt. 

“Now, just focus on the movement and rhythm of the vibrations for me. Nothing else exists. Pain, fear, defeat, your job, other people… It’s just you denying yourself for me. Just allow yourself to float in the delicious in-between state of pleasure and pain, of tension and relaxation, and let me do the thinking.”

In an admittedly devious move, he placed a firm, hot kiss to her neck before getting up, drawing another oh-so sweet muffled and tormented whine from her throat that made his cock leak.

The lock clicked on the door behind him, leaving Y/N to the total darkness and the longest hour and a half of her life.

The hardest part definitely wasn’t not to think- very quickly, she found it almost impossible to think of anything else except the unrelenting pulses of vibration against her clit. Terry hadn’t specified what would happen if she failed to stop herself from coming, but she figured that there would be some sort of punishment and preferred not to find out what exactly it would be. As she clenched around nothing, she could already feel slick absolutely gushing from her pussy onto the seat under her. It was almost a gift that the uncomfortable feeling of the spit that had started dripping down her chin provided some distraction.

Y/N wondered just how ruined her shirt would be by the end of this, and about having to walk out of the dojo probably looking a sight, but this thought evaporated as she felt a new, more intense pressure building in the pit of her stomach. All of the sudden, the intensity of the pleasure had her fighting with all of her resolve not to come, eyes twisted shut, struggling to pull her hips even a millimeter away from the head of the wand. Just as she thought she might fail, a drop of sweat fell into her eye, jolting her more firmly into focus again.

She wanted more than anything to please him, to be a good student and do him proud; put that beautiful smile on his face and be the reason for it. She also wanted to prove to herself that she had the strength and self-control to fulfill what had been asked of her and what she now asked of herself.

Initially, Y/N had been able to roughly estimate how long she had been left, but eventually she lost all track of time. Upon reaching that point, she finally fully allowed her thoughts to drain away like the slick that coated her underwear and the chair beneath her, giving up all wondering when Terry might return and letting go of the worry she had about how she might look by the time he arrived. All that mattered was that she was not allowed to come.

When she finally heard the click of the door’s lock again, she was pulled from her haze by the light that sliced into the complete darkness of the closet, making her squint. Eventually she managed to focus in on Terry, her eyes filling with tears. The man who was both her challenger and protector, assailant and healer, whom she’d made herself so mentally and physically vulnerable for, was here to rescue and tend to her.

The sight that greeted Terry was nothing short of divine. His angel was drenched in sweat, saliva, and slick, and apart from the occasional twitch against the vibrator, had given up struggling and appeared to have little, if any, coherent thought. When her blank gaze finally fully readjusted to the light, he grinned down at her.

“Everyone is gone now; the dojo is closed.” He gave her a moment to process what he had said, crouching before her to fully appreciate how mussed-up and flushed she looked, inhaling the heady scent of her perfume combined with the smell of sex and the warmth radiating off of her.

“Did you come?” he asked, not yet turning off the vibrator. Her head lolled back and forth in an attempt at a shaking motion.

“Good.” He said in a nonchalant tone that, despite her not thinking it was possible, made her more turned on. It was as if they were discussing traffic or the weather. He studied the darkened crotch of her underwear: “Mm, you’ve really soaked through your panties, though. You must be enjoying this even more than I thought.”

Her stomach dropped as the vibrator continued to run and he fixed her with a mischievous look.

“In that case, since you’ve been doing so well for me, I guess I can let you stay here a while longer. I have plenty of other things I can do. How does that sound, darling?” This time Y/N shook her head more frantically, trying to say ‘no’ through the gag. He pretended not to understand her, even though it was intelligible enough.

“What was that, baby? Oh, you’re welcome.” He got up and headed toward the door once more, noting that she still refused to safeword as he closed and locked her in again.

Y/N had never felt so helpless in that moment, consumed by the darkness again and the now seemingly endless torture of the wand’s rhythmic vibrations. She tightened her grip on the button in her fist, knowing that she could end it all at any time, but did not press it. She was determined to last it out until he decided that she was done. After all, she’d made it this far, right?

In that moment, something about the helplessness and the increasingly hazy mental state she was plummeting into became freeing. He had all of the power and that was okay. It meant that she wasn’t responsible for anything except the one thing he’d asked her to do. Nothing else mattered. He really was helping her; this was good for her, to have no expectations or concerns; to humble herself by fulfilling demands rather than making them and be patient to accept what she was given. 

Just as she had reached this stage of tenuous acceptance, she was surprised and confused when the door slid open after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Terry entered with a glass of water, a towel, and first aid supplies in his hands.

“Sweetheart, I’m joking,” he laughed softly, bending down at her feet to set down everything he was carrying. “But you did so, so well for me.” Finally, he removed the gag from her sore jaw, the ball pulling strands of saliva with it. She gasped from the soreness as well as the relief.

“Just come for me now and we’ll be done,” he said, switching the vibrator to the highest setting and controlling its position with his hand instead of the rope, leaning in close for her to rest her head on his shoulder. “Let it all out for me...”

Within moments, he felt her shake as violently as the restraints would allow, warm and sticky come coating the tip of the vibrator through her panties.

“Aahhh…! Thank you! Thank you, Sensei…” she cried in his ear through strangled moans that gradually decreased in volume as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her invocation of his title made his cock jerk, and he bit back a growl. As the most intense climax she’d ever experienced faded, mixing with the feelings of confusion, disgust, and submission, she burst into tears. It was complete sensory overload.  

“Shh, it’s okay. You can cry if you need to,” Terry crooned as she clung to him. He cradled the back of her neck with one hand while starting to untie her with the other. Once she was entirely free and her sobs subsided a bit, he reached for the glass of water and raised it to her lips.

“Drink this- I don’t want you dehydrated,” he said as she sipped from the cold glass, staring at him with blissed-out, puffy eyes. Once she’d had enough to drink, she sucked in a shaky breath and collapsed into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, angel,” he praised her, rocking her back and forth like a child and pressing delicate kisses all over her face. After cleaning her with the towel, he set to fixing up wherever it hurt, applying healing lotion and ointment to the spots on her arms and legs where the rope had burned, and stroking her cheeks until most of the marks from the gag had faded.

“Okay. All better,” he sighed and she sniffed, having stopped crying. He tilted her chin up so that she was looking directly at him. “Now, are you proud of yourself? You should be proud of yourself.”

She blushed. He was happy with her. She had succeeded in doing what he wanted her to do. She responded to his pleased grin with a soft smile that made her face glow and imbued his chest with warmth.

“Just don’t ever trick me like that again,” she pouted. 

“That was rather mean of me, wasn’t it?” he conceded with a small laugh, unable to hide the fact that he was a bit gleeful rather than entirely apologetic.

“Mhm,” she added petulantly, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I can’t make any promises there, doll,” he replied slyly. “Not when you make it so much fun to toy with you.” He squeezed his arms around her a final time and they shared a kiss before he shifted his posture.

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat. Easy now.” He helped her stumble to her feet and guided her out of the closet.  

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #the karate kid #karate kid fanfiction #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai fic #one shot #x reader #creative writing

[ae-to-the-snow]

Lumen NSFW HCs

Ae note: By god the things I need to do to this man the things this skin has done to me ugh

TWs/CWs : GN Reader, smut, oral, sub Lumen, service top Lumen, praise, cunnilingus, soft sex, body worship, overstimulation

Lmk if I forgot anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you're dating Lumen and you get intimate with him, he'll undeniably get so flustered at first. But he's so willing to try it so he won't refuse, even if he'll hesitate.

The first few times you got intimate, he was so flushed out from a makeout session you'd feel bad if you didn't stop right there, and Lumen is so. So happy you care for him but he definitely wants to take things further with his beloved.

We all see it. This man is so soft. He's either a sub or a soft dom like I think it's very unlikely that he'll get any kinkier if it involves sadomasochism or anything. But that doesn't make him less no no.

If you're domming him, he is absolutely at your mercy, he will let you do whatever you want to him. But please treat him well. :((

Pamper him. Praise him. Worship him. He's all yours.

Tell him how pretty he is, how you're so lucky he's yours, how good he's doing taking everything you're giving him.

I feel like he could get used to being called a good boy. Please praise him.

His praise kink is so sweet and yet so <3333 eheh

He swears he could cum from your praises alone but he wants to last longer with you, but oh he can't decide.

Speaking of which, he really can't last that long most of the time. Two rounds is the most he'll be able to go before he thinks he should stop. But he'll be babbling that he could still go on. He swears.

He does prioritize himself but he also wants to satisfy you.

If you want just one more round well he can handle it surely...

If he gets overstimulated? Well...

Is it just me or would he look pretty crying. Like no baby boy please don't cry but he cries easily from the pleasure, especially of you overstimulated him.

He's sobbing and crying about how good you make him feel, he's going to praise and worship you too even if you top him.

He loves to hold you close and tight when you're fucking. Let him be close to you please.

He'd definitely hmm what's the word, whine? He'd definitely mumble and nutter all kinds of words while you fuck him. Moans and words praising how good you feel and how beautiful you are.

He doesn't realize it but his whines are so loud, not loud loud but loud enough to be noticeable and he feels so embarrassed about it.

But he can't keep his mouth shut, he needs to tell you everything on how he feels, if you wanna shut him up, please kiss him instead.

Every time he reminds himself to be quiet he fails miserably, he just gets lost in the moment.

Lumen is such a service top like during sex the only thing he cares about is pleasuring you.

Want him to fuck you? Be patient while he preps you gently with his fingers okay?

Want to be eaten out? Say no more he is in between your legs.

Speaking of oral, it's not a joke when I say Lumen could eat you out for hours. He just finds it to be his favorite part of sex.

Doesn't matter top or bottom Lumen for the night, if he wants to please you and make you cum til you're satisfied, his dick might not be able to take it, but his mouth can.

He can go slow or fast however you like it. Just be prepared to hear the most lewd and obscene sounds in humanity, and you bet he'll be eating you out until you tell him to stop, if you could even do that.

"Love? Are you alright? Should I continue or give you a break? Should I stop?"

He's so good with his tongue and the more he does it, the better he gets cuz he pays attention to what you like, whether it be kisses on your thighs, your chest, what pace you like or anything else.

Afab? Amab? Either way he's taking you all the way in as much as he could fit into his mouth. And if you have a dick, he'd deepthroat you so well.

And don't forget his fingers... He could finger and eat you out till his face is covered with your cum and he'll lap at it all with no hesitation. Making sure you watch.

Also, remember his praise kink. Yeah don't think he'd forget to do that.

He's praise you so much while he's pleasuring you. Calling you his pretty princess/prince, he's worshipping your body. Kissing every inch of it, telling you how he adores your every mole and scar and how your skin feels.

With those hazy eyes filled with intimacy you know he's being more than genuine. If you don't believe it. He'll keep telling you all that while he makes you cum as much as you'd like.

As for kinks, I really don't think he'd be into anything that hurts you. He might scratch or bite you sometimes, but anything like slapping or choking is out of the window.

Ae notes: Aaaaa my first ever smut post??? How did I do?? Was it good?? Tell me on how J can improve since I'm starting out please.

Also shdhdjjdd I'm only doing this bc this man does things to me tbh as he should. I need him fucked against my desk.

#arknights x reader #arknights #arknights smut #lumen x reader #lumen arknights #lumen smut #sub lumen #dom lumen #sub arknights #dom arknights #lumen hcs #arknights hcs #arknights x reader hcs #arknights x doctor #arknights x you #arknights imagine #arknights smut hcs #ae writes

[mediocre-quill-ink]

hi!! if your inbox is open can i please request sfw & nsfw hcs for medic with a vampire s/o who needs to feed? thank you 🦇🖤

Thank you so much for the request. It was really fun to think about. Also, it's not just feeding headcanons if that's ok. Additional vampire dating stuff, I got carried away. I hope you enjoy it, though

Tw and content: lots of mentions of blood, of course. Some Catholic fetishism near the end. Cannibalism? Kind of? Medic drinking blood, really. Sadomasochism. Most of my vampire logic is based on interviews with the vampire and Draculaura (the book) and my own personal head canons, so the logic switches around sometimes. Google translate German.

Relationship:

Ok, so to start, everything I've stated in my first medic hcs still stands but I'll re state a few things

I feel like he'd let you drain patients for sure.

He'd never tell them. At least for a good while, lmao

When people are dying left and right on the field, he'll definitely bring a few to his lab to drain before the crew has enough time to re spawn and realize.

If you'd like him to keep up this practice I feel like he'd ask you preferences.

Wanna get drunk? Well, a demo corpse is yet to be disposed of

Or maybe just a bit buzzed? A spy is here!

Of corse, he'd keep blood bags in the fridge for you

If you wanna feed on him, though, well now you've got a whole new can of worms

If you ask him if you can feed on him, he'd be very surprised and then surprised that he is surprised.

"You want to feed on me? Oh! Well... ja. Yes- I can do that. I don't know why I didn't suspect this. I mean- I am your partner."

Yes. He's doing this

And tbh he's a little to excited

Not only does it do it for him (more on that later), but he just finds the whole process incredibly interesting.

He's a doctor, after all. And of corse it's his duty as a doctor (and your boyfriend) to take note of your species' behavior

"Would you say you prefer drinking blood straight from the neck or peircing a vein and draining it into a cup?"

"Would you be equally satisfied if drained my own blood into iv bags or is the intimacy a part of the feeding process?"

I feel like once or twice you drank to much from him and he was a bit insistent on monitoring his blood pressure when you fed for a while.

Man, doss he love to resurch you.

He tries his best from experimenting on you.

(Tempting. Very Tempting. But he manages to hold back.)

I like to imagine he tried to take your blood pressure and was surprised to see it was zero.

"Fasinating" He would say

"What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Well I AM dead. Blood dosnt exactly flow amymore."

"Tell me more about the whole... being dead thing?"

He asks so many questions it's kind of unbearable at first lmao

I feel like if he knew you were a vampire before you started dating or early in he'd have an easier time opening up to you than a human

People see and treat him as a monster all the time. Him interacting with a literal monster with a thirst for blood no less makes him more comfortable opening up about his strange interests than usual.

"They'd probably get it"

I feel like he's always wanted to drink blood tbh

I mean, he's tasted it. No doubt. When you have such a gory hobby and your gloves somehow always have fresh blood on them, you're bound to get blood in your mouth at some point.

But to actually drink it has never been attempted.

I think one time you're drinking from a blood bag while you both are chilling somewhere, and he just goes, "How does that taste?"

You think it's another round of one of his routine questions and respond something like "it's nice. Refreshing. Irony. Warm. It's kind of like a soup, I guess? It tastes different when you're dead. I can tell you that much." And just keep slurping

"Can i... try it?"

You look at him and after a moment of thinking go "yeah."

You have a feeling he probably won't like it. When you were human, it just tasted like blood. Blood is blood. But when you were turned. When your body died and now ran on dark supernatural forces. When the only thing that could keep these dark forces thriving and preserving your mortal vessel was the warm essence of what once lived. It tasted different. This new way of life (or after life) gave you new senses. New flavors, new colors, new sounds. Suddenly, blood, raw organs. It tastes good.

He took a sip. He took a moment to think. Then he took another, longer sip. And his response

"I think I like it."

It was by no means his favorite drink, nor was it something he drank frequently. But on occasion, he did. Mostly with you, but he'd find himself occasionally sipping on it while at work or home alone.

Also he probably just smells like blood most of the time

Like not strongly of it, for a human, it's noting more than a subtle after note but for a vampire such as yourself, senses heightened and all that, it's easier to recognize and find it quite enjoyable.

I feel like if your a sun sensitive vampire he'd give you his coat alot.

He's a large man with a larger coat.

If you worry about the sun he'd take it off and drape it around you, more often than not placing the shoulders of it on top of your head. Letting the shadow of his large coat cover all of you.

Also I like to imagine he sharpens your Fangs every now and then for you if you ask

I like to imagine you both rob Graves together lmao

Pet names. i can't think of many good vampire ones, but i like "meine süße Fledermaus" (my sweet bat) and "Königin/König der Nacht" (queen/king of the night)

Sexual

He really has a thing for being bitten, man.

He's sadomasochistic, and man, does the masochism really show around you.

He loves being used as a blood bag in the heat of it all.

When His senses are nearing the point of extreme and you bite into his neck or shoulder or chest

Lawd have mercy the moans your about to hear.

That feeling of sex mixed and muddied with pain drives him crazy

Idk how you feel about vampires and religion mixing, but I'm imagining medic likes to have his hands tied up with Rosarys.

Tied up with rosaries and fucked by a force of darkness?

I feel like hes kind of into Catholic guilt sex if that makes sense?

Again, depending on how you imagine vampires mix with religion. If you let him, I feel like he'd also like to tie you up with rosaries.

Not just because of the whole power dynamic thing he's into

But like the gothic imagery is hot

Also, blow jobs with Fangs?

He dosnt like getting bit there but like it's the risk that's hot you know?

Like you COULD but you won't.

That's the hot part you know?

Also just like- with your vampiric powers can be useful in bed.

If we're going by Dracula rules.

Super strength, speed, and can change form at will, to grow from large to small?

Now i haven't finished the book so I might get the nuances of this wrong but like... I'm just saying.

Super strength. Can pin him down nice and easy. And as I've stated in my past hc post. If he likes to be hit around nice and good that'll certainly help.

Super speed? Thrusting, bouncing, hand jobs. Enough said.

Can grow and shrink at will? The possibilities of that, man.

Shrink just a tad so he can feel bigger in you

Or larger to tower over him.

(It'll make your dick bigger along with the rest of your body if you've got one, just saying...)

Sorry, I don't have a lot for the sexual portion, I feel like most of what I needed to say was already stated, but I hope you enjoyed it. This was fun to think about. I may update a few more times if I got new ideas. Thank you sm for the request! Tbh I was thinking about writing a medic/vampire a day or two ago and this was great inspiration! Stay batty!

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