what i wont write... as i do love writing dark content, im against noncon (unless it’s consensual like CNC), underage characters in nsfw, daddy kink stuff (makes me uncomfy to write), scat, any verse (bcuz idk any and i dont want to know), amab reader, foot fetish stuff, armpit fetish, genderbent scara, breeding kink/babytrapping/pregnancy in general, part 2’s of my one-shots unless you provide detail, will add more as time goes on
im fine with... yandere, kidnapping, nsfw, afab reader, gn reader, top + dom/sub scara and or reader, ftm scara, any kinks that are consensual and not gross like scat but some kinks for example: degradation, praise, bondage, overstimulation, knife play, sadism and masochism elements, aphrodisiacs, pet play, collars and leashes, somnophilia, biting (will add more overtime probably).
I currently only write for Scaramouche/Wanderer, and hopefully that will change in the future. (Update: I'm open to writing for Lohen too!!) I can write other characters with scara, like Kazuha x reader x Scaramouche, for example, (doesn’t have to be Kazuha, could be any other genshit character). I also tend to ramble (this intro post being proof), and that makes me end up with an insane word count on my fics, so your request, if I like it enough, might be over 5k words
sry if that was super annoying to read...
make sure to... be specific if you want it to be fluff, smut, angst, how you want the reader to act, a general description of the plot/situation, because I don't want to write something, and then it wasn't what you imagined
Wanderer is… hesitant when it comes to relationships.
✧ I don’t just mean sexual relations, either. To feel loved, to feel close, is something he hasn’t allowed himself to form a real connection in centuries; be that romantic, platonic, or otherwise.
✧ He’s simply not the type of person for one night stands and friends with benefits because first and foremost he craves to be understood. Physical intimacy requires him to be open and unguarded, for him to put his trust in you.
So, how do you go about that?
Consistency.
✧ A common pattern in Wanderer’s close relationships (Durin, Traveler, Nahida) is that he appreciates persistence. For all his grumbling about hating socializing, Wanderer seems to appreciate the people that are always there for him. What he needs after so much time being independent is someone to fall back on, someone who will always be there no matter how hard he tries to push them away.
Affirmation.
✧ Physical, Verbal, whatever. He just needs to know that you care. No matter how much he may refute it, tell him that you see his attempts to be a better person and that you’ll always be there. He may express affection through actions rather than words, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate gentleness.
Understanding.
✧ Be understanding of how his time as Scaramouche affects his personality now- he’s not going to be perfect automatically, just give him the space to grow. His bluntness isn’t because he’s a bad person- he’s just himself, unapologetically. Understand his traits as a person and don’t try and force him to change.
✧ With luck, time, and patience- Wanderer will open himself up to you, so long as you don’t force it. He isn’t just dramatic, or cruel, he’s a person working through his past trauma and learning what it means to be ‘human.’ But don’t worry- he’s fully capable of reciprocating your love.
authors note . might be my last link post for a bit, as this took up WAYY too much of my time and I gotta work on my other stuff... I hope the people enjoy this, and if u use my flipping header or banner ur getting a hot pepper shoved up ur ahh without lube. anyways, creds to user id:93213403 on pixiv!!
You're on your back, completely bare, heavy chains looped around your torso and between your thighs. He slid the vibrator inside you before he chained you down, and it's been buzzing at a low, cruel setting for long enough that your cunt is swollen and pulsing around it on its own. When he presses the wand directly onto your clit, your entire body seizes against the chains, and the metal digs into your ribs as you arch up with nowhere to go.
"Ah, there it is."
He doesn't move the wand at all, watching your stomach muscles contract, and he reaches down with his free hand to trace the red marks the links leave on your skin. "These are going to bruise," he says, pressing his thumb into one. "Good."
✮ crawling to him because he told you to
He's standing at the far end of the room, his cock in his hand, stroking lazily, and you're on your hands and knees on the floor, tongue out, crawling toward him. Every time you get close enough to take him in your mouth, he steps back, just one step, watching you follow. You bob your head forward, lips closing around his tip, before he pulls his hips back, and the wet pop of him leaving your mouth makes you whine. He takes another step, and you crawl forward. "Faster," he says, taking another step back, watching your knees drag across the floor. "You worship so slowly. If you wanted it that badly, you'd move like it." You crawl faster, your mouth finding him again, and this time he lets you stay for three seconds before pulling away. "Better, but I think you should beg for it with your words this time."
✮ bone gag
You're on the floor with a bone gag strapped between your teeth, drool running down your chin. Your arms are tied across your chest with rope, your skirt is bunched up around your waist, and you have no underwear on. Your legs are in the air, held open by the rope, and your eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, your head tipping back every time the dildo slides in. He's sitting between your legs on the floor, one hand working the toy in and out of you in slow, smooth strokes, his thumb on your clit, circling in the same lazy rhythm. He's savoring the wet sounds, the way your cunt grips the toy on every pull, the way your eyes try to focus on him and can't.
"Look at you." He pushes the dildo deeper, holds it there, and his thumb speeds up on your clit until your thighs tremble. "Gagged, tied up, dripping all over my floor, and you still think you deserve my cock?" He pulls the toy out slowly, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing when it's gone. "Pathetic little thing. You haven't earned anything yet."
✮ your mouth is on his cock, his hands are in your hair
He's lying back in the crimson robe he wears around his quarters, the fabric spread open, his cock resting on his stomach. You're between his legs on all fours, your tongue dragging up his shaft from base to tip in a long, flat lick, and your hands are at his sides, sliding up underneath the robe, your palms pressing into his ribs as you take him into your mouth. His hand finds your hair, fingers threading through, gripping, and his hips grind up into your mouth before you're even halfway down. He rolls his hips, feeding himself across your tongue in shallow, constant thrusts that keep him stimulated without going deep, using your mouth the way someone uses a hand.
At some point, your bobbing stops, and he takes over completely, both hands pushing your head down while his hips pump up, bouncing into your mouth. When he finally releases the pressure, spit strings from your lips to his cock in long, glossy threads, and you catch your breath while your tongue finds his shaft again out of habit.
He groans when your tongue drags up the underside, and his hips chase the contact, grinding against the flat of your tongue while your hands slide higher up his body inside the robe. "Don't you dare stop. That mouth is the only useful thing about you today."
✮ you can't escape
You're tied to a chair in the center of the room, your wrists bound above your head by a rope that's attached to the ceiling. Your ankles are strapped to the chair legs, and through a hole cut in the seat beneath you, a wand vibrator is pressed directly against your cunt at a setting that's been making your thighs shake for the last ten minutes straight.
Every time you try to squirm, your body grinds harder against the wand, and the extra pressure sends a jolt through your clit that makes your cunt clench and whimper involuntarily, which humiliates you more because your body is betraying you, and he's there, watching every second of it. He's across the room, seated, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his hand, and he hasn't touched you once.
"You're fighting it again," he observes. "Every time you squirm, you push yourself harder onto it. You know that, right? You're getting yourself off trying to escape, and it's the funniest thing I've seen all week." Your hips jerk, and the wand catches your clit at an angle that makes your back arch off the chair. A broken moan slips out, and you hate the way his mouth curves when he hears it.
"There it is," he says. "That's the sound I was waiting for. Go ahead, fight harder. Your body will do the rest."
✮ you told him you hated your chest... he's going to fix that
You were getting dressed, and you turned sideways in the mirror, and the words about your insecurity came out before you could stop them. He didn't respond to you right away; he just finished whatever it was that he was doing and then told you to sit on the bed.
He tied your arms behind your back, and he tied a pink cord around your chest in a pattern that frames your breasts, making them sit higher, more prominent, impossible to hide. The rope is almost decorative, a harness that turns your insecurity into something displayed. He coats his hands in oil, and when his slicked fingers find your nipples, you flinch because you weren't ready for how sensitive they are when your breasts are bound and swollen from the rope pressure.
"Don't move," he says. His thumbs roll over your nipples in slow circles, spreading the oil until your skin is gleaming. Your breath is coming out faster, and your back keeps trying to arch away from his hands, but you can't because your arms are tied. You can't cover yourself, can't hide, can't do anything except sit there and feel him tease your nipples until they're hard and aching.
"You said you hated these." His slicked thumb flicks across your nipple, watching it stiffen. "So now you're going to sit here while I show you exactly how wrong you are. And when I'm done, you're going to look at yourself and tell me they're pretty." His other hand pinches, rolling your nipple between oiled fingers, and you let out a helpless whimper. "And you're going to mean it. Because I don't accept half-hearted compliments."
WANDERER
✮ using your foot to get him off while he pretends he's above it
He's on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and your foot is pressed flat against his cock through his pants. His hand is on your ankle, guiding you, grinding himself against the arch of your sole in slow rolls that push his hips off the mattress. He won't ask for more because asking is beneath him, so he just moves your foot where he wants it and acts like this is something he's tolerating rather than something that's making his breathing uneven. His bottoms come off eventually, and the outline of him straining through his boxers is extremely noticeable that you can't resist pressing your toes against it just to watch him twitch. When both your feet are on him, one pressing his balls, the other rolling slow circles on his leaking tip through the fabric, his head drops back. "You're enjoying this more than I am," he says through his teeth, and it's the most obvious lie his tsundere ahh has ever said.
✮ he's eating you out, and you're not even paying attention
You're on your bed, legs spread, playing whatever Fontaine handheld device you convinced a merchant to import. He settles between your legs, pushes your thighs apart, and puts his mouth on you. His tongue drags slowly up your slit while you tap buttons and frown at the screen. You giggle when his tongue flicks your clit because it tickles more than it should, and your free hand drops to his hair, fingers threading through the strands absently, like you're petting him while you play. He hums against your cunt, and the vibration makes your hips twitch, but you don't look down.
He pulls back just enough to talk against your folds. "You're dripping on my chin, and you won't even look at me." You glance down, smile, and go back to your game. He bites the inside of your thigh for that, and your yelp makes him grin before his mouth finds your clit again. He's going to make you put that thing down eventually, and he's patient enough to take his time getting there.
✮ he wants you in bed and won't say it with words
He's lying on his bed in his sleep robe, the fabric open, cock out, half-hard and hanging between his thighs. You're sitting at his desk, reviewing scrollwork for a thesis you don't care about, and you can feel him staring at the back of your head.
You glance over your shoulder. He slightly shifts his hips in a way that makes his cock sway between his legs. He's just letting it hang there, while he looks at you with an expression that says "come here" without opening his mouth.
"Use your words," you say, turning back to your scrollwork.
"I don't need words," he says. "You already looked."
You cave in too quickly, already pushing the chair back before he finishes the sentence. He doesn't smile when you crawl onto the bed, but his cock twitches against his stomach, and that says more than a smile ever could.
✮ leaking for you while you kneel there, looking at it
He's sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread, his cock hard and dripping between his thighs. A bead of precum slides from the slit down the underside of his shaft. He touches his tip with two fingers, spreads them apart, and a string of precum stretches between them. You're on the floor in front of him, on your knees, watching.
He slides his fingers down his length, dragging the slick with them, coating himself in it, and his cock twitches hard enough that the next bead of precum drips off his tip and lands on his thigh.
"Are you going to keep staring," he says, his voice low, his eyes on yours, "or are you going to do something about it? Because I've been hard since you walked in, and watching you on your knees isn't making it go down."
You lean forward, and he watches you close the distance with that quiet, focused look, his clean hand bracing on the mattress behind him, his hips shifting forward to meet your mouth.
✮ spending quality time with the gift he bought you
He bought you the stuffed bear during a festival week in Sumeru. It's huge, and it's sitting on your bed, taking up a quarter of the mattress. You thanked him with a kiss, and he told you it was "just something practical, your bed looked empty," which is the most Wanderer way to say he saw something that reminded him of you and couldn't walk past it. He didn't expect to come back to your room and find you straddling its leg.
Your hips were rolling against the plush limb in slow grinds, the plush fabric pressing between your folds, and you didn't hear him come in because you were too focused on the heat building in your stomach. He stood in the doorway for a full five seconds before you noticed him, and when you did, your hips stopped completely, and your face went red.
"Don't stop on my account," he says as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I want to see you finish."
And when you don't move a muscle, he adds, "that wasn't a suggestion."
Your hips start moving again, slower, embarrassed, and the wet spot you're leaving on the plush is visible from where he's standing. He watches you grind, watches your thighs tighten around the leg, watches your head tip back as the rhythm picks up.
"You like it that much?" he asks, his voice softer now, like he enjoys watching this display. "Should I be jealous? Because I'm starting to think the bear's doing a better job than me, and that's not something I'm willing to accept." He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward the bed. "Move over. Let me show you what you're actually supposed to be riding."
LOHEN
✮ you can't handle it
You're in his basement with your ass in the air, ankles and wrists bound in rope that loops up through a hook that keeps you spread open with zero ability to close your legs. The vibrator on your clit is pressed so directly against the nerve that your entire lower body is clenching in visible pulses. He's holding a plug above your ass that's bigger than the one from yesterday.
Your cunt flutters around nothing, your asshole clenches with it, and he's watching all of it like it's a show. "Look at you," he says, tilting his head to get a better angle. "Both holes are already open before I've even touched you. You trained so well for me, didn't you?" He taps the vibrator with one finger, nudging it harder against your clit, and you clench again, hard. "That little hole just winked at me again."
He presses the cool tip of the plug against your ass, circling the rim without pushing in, and your trained hole opens for it reflexively, the muscle relaxing around the glass like it's been waiting. "See? Your mouth says no, but this," he pushes the plug in one inch, and your body swallows it greedily, "this says you've been thinking about it all day."
A whine that sounds more like crying than pleasure tears out of your throat, and he grinds the vibrator into your clit until the whine breaks into a moan you couldn't hold back if your life depended on it.
"Aw," he says, twisting the plug slowly, watching your hole stretch and grip around it. "Is that supposed to make me stop? Because that sound you just made is actually making me want to see how loud you get when I turn it up." He turns it up, and you scream into the mattress, your hole clenching hard around the plug. The unoptional moans keep spilling out of you one after another.
"You can keep saying no," he says, pressing the plug deeper, watching your body betray every word your mouth tries to form. "Your holes don't listen to you anyway. They listen to me."
✮ restrained in a split with a rod holding your arms in place
The bar holds your wrists apart behind your back, your ankles are forced into a split by the restraints, and when he slides into you, the only thing you can do is take it. He grips the rod behind your back for leverage, and the first thrust makes your whole body rock forward because there's nothing to brace against, nothing except the restraints keeping you exactly where he put you. Your ass claps against his skin on every thrust, and the sound fills the room louder than either of your voices. He pulls the rod back, arching your spine, forcing your chest forward while he fucks deeper. "You're making such pretty sounds for someone who begged me to go easy," he murmurs into the back of your neck. "I lied when I said I would, by the way."
✮ belt on your cunt, then around your neck
You're on the bed with your legs open and his belt folded in half, and the first slap lands directly on your cunt with a crack that makes your whole body flinch off the mattress. He watches your reaction with interest, the way your thighs try to close and can't because his knee is between them, the way your cunt flushes pink from the impact. He slaps again, harder, and the yelp you let out is half pain, half… something else. "You liked that one." He loops the belt around your throat, threading the leather through the buckle and pulling until it sits snug against your pulse. His free hand pushes your thigh back, and he slides inside you, pulling the belt tighter. The first thrust makes your eyes roll back because being full and getting choked at the same time is too many sensations for your body to handle. You feel him pull the belt tighter. "Breathe when I let you."
✮ the staples…
You've been crying ever since he finished putting them in, your face wet against the pillow he shoved under your head when your body started shaking too hard to hold still. There's a heart made of staples in the skin of your inner thigh, each one pressed in individually with a sterile tool, and the dried blood around them has crusted into thin, dark lines that trace its shape. The bruising beneath is already purple, blooming outward from each puncture, and the skin between the staples is swollen and hot to the touch.
He runs his finger along the edge of the heart, tracing the outline, and your leg tries to flinch away from the contact, but his other hand is locked around your ankle, pinning your leg open.
"Stop squirming." He says it like you're being difficult on purpose. "You sat still when I put them in. You can sit still now."
Your body isn't listening to what you want anymore; it's listening to the pain, and when his palm comes down flat across the heart, the slap connecting with every raised staple at once, your cunt clenches hard, and you let out a loud yelp. Fresh blood beads up around two of the staples where the skin splits under the impact, and it runs down the curve of your inner thigh in a thin, warm line that he watches with his head tilted.
"There's the red I wanted." He smears the blood with his thumb, spreading it across the heart, painting the skin around it pink. "You bleed so pretty for me. Almost as pretty as you cry."
Your tears are soaking into the pillow, snot and spit mixing on your face, and your chest is heaving in hiccups that shake the whole bed. He doesn't comfort you; instead, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingers trailing through the blood, and slaps the heart again, harder, his fingers catching the edge of a staple and ripping it halfway out of your skin.
The scream that comes out of you is guttural, ripped from somewhere deeper than your throat, and your hands claw at whatever's near you, the sheets, his arm, anything. He grabs your wrist and pins it to the mattress without looking away from your thigh.
"Shh," he says, and the gentleness of the sound is almost shocking. He pushes the staple back in with his thumb, pressing until the metal sinks into your swollen skin, and you feel every millimeter of it reentering the puncture.
You watch as he makes a fist, and you shake your head against the pillow, crying harder, "please, please, please, I can't-" but the last word gets cut in half when his fist connects with the center of the heart.
Your leg jerks so violently that your knee almost catches his jaw, and he grabs your ankle and slams it back down against the mattress. New blood is pooling in the center of the heart, filling the gaps between staples, and two more have shifted in your skin from the impact.
"You let me put these in you," he says quietly, his bloody thumb pressing into the deepest staple, the one at the bottom point of the heart, and he rotates it. Your scream breaks into a sob, and he leans down and presses his mouth to the heart. His lips are soft against the swollen, bloody skin, and his tongue drags across one of the staples, tasting the copper, tasting… you. He pulls back, blood on his lower lip, and wipes it with the back of his hand.
"Same time next week," he says. "I want to do the other thigh."
I have a Discord now! 18+, for readers, writers, and anyone who wants early wips and a place to chat!! (link)
HAII :3 I love ur work ive been rereading every fic for like the past 2 days 🩷🩷 I noticed u won’t write amab reader but I was wondering if a transmale reader is okay?? Like he/him pronouns but has female genitals and breasts/top surgery scars 😭
n-no...
I don't feel comfortable writing for a gender/identity that doesn't relate to mine, as it's easier to write for what I relate to. It's not that I self-insert or anything, it's just that we ALL see the reader as ourselves when we're reading a fanfic, and I do the same as I'm writing my fics... kinda
The most I'd write for something that isn't inherently female is a gender-neutral reader, which doesn't fit well with smut fics, which is what I mainly write. I actually prefer gender-neutral readers over afab because I don't like to describe how the reader looks at ALL, so that it fits for everyone. Some fanfics add in subtle details that imply the reader has a certain hair length, features, etc. I try my hardest not to ever do that 😭😭.
the ss of my acc with the cyan blue bg makes me wanna revamp my acc and do a pink and blue theme, but I don't wanna hear ppl making jokes ab it being a baby reveal theme color 🙄
(will be making a pink, yellow, and blue babyshowa theme on day but my evil red and black era must come first eventually... only then will I be pink again)
sparkle sparkie sparkle and add a lil bit of elation...
Hii question! Do you have any fav Scara writers or just recommendations for creators or specific works in general? Even if they’re ao3 fics!
P.s love love love your work smsm !! 🥹
im using this as a chance to glaze every single scaramouche/wanwan fic writer that makes me jump for joy everytime they post a new fic...
...and im making it cute ofc!! 😜
𐔌 Maddie's Recommendations ໑୧𖥔ׄ𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
(I used my grammar checker on this, and it did drain a bit of my personality, but I am a yapper, and I didn't want people to read something with a bunch of annoying typing quirks...)
𓏵‧₊˚ ┊꒰ @vvalentiqq .ᐟ ꒱
I have the joy of being Angie's friend, and that may lead some to think this is biased... but that's not true at all. Her Catboy Scaramouche fanfic was powerful enough to open my ears and convert me into liking Catboys, because before, I HATED THEM (especially hated when ppl would make Scaramouche a switch instead of a dom)... Key word, hated, past tense. Nonetheless, she has good writing skills and a talent for coming up with the most creative fanfic ideas, and my favorite fanfic of hers will be getting a part 2 soon!! (She's also my unpaid beta/proofreader who feeds me ideas on the side; my fics wouldn't be as good if it weren't for her... so the glazing I give her is well deserved.)
╰┈┈┈➤ Cat!Hybrid!Scaramouche x Dog!Hybrid!Fem!Reader
𓏵‧₊˚ ┊꒰ @scarafvckr .ᐟ ꒱
This is more of a "what CAN'T they do" type of glaze, but not only does Vee write some amazing, beautiful, god-level fanfics here and there... they draw... a lot, and they're just as good at that too. They're sadly chronically offline, which is uncanny for someone in this fandom, so they don't post as frequently, but they do interact when they can and definitely make it up with the fanfics... They have a fanfic in the making where reader slimes out Haypasia (haypiss), so all the Haypasia (haypiss) haters will stay tuned for that!
╰┈┈┈➤ take another bite ☆
(my fav from them..)
𓏵‧₊˚ ┊꒰ @kurapikapikachuu .ᐟ ꒱
Chuu... Chuu.. Chuu... Where do I even start with someone as great as her... Her characterizations? Canon. As simple as freaking that. I remember when I read that one Wanwan headcanon post, and I swear I almost cried and almost sympathized with Shakespeare because I knew he knew his spot at the top had been taken by Chii from Chobits... or user kurapikachuu on Tumblr, but where's the difference?? However, I don't agree with how she betrayed Caleb Xia in her recent posts, but her fics 100% make up for that.
╰┈┈┈➤ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ random wanderer headcanons
𓏵‧₊˚ ┊꒰ @scaraobsession .ᐟ ꒱
I've been reading Lilac's fics for a long, LONG time (even had a friend crush on her... 👀) and the way she writes for Wanderer... you can tell she loves him to bits. She doesn't really write for Scara; she writes for Wanderer, and although I do prefer evil Scara sometimes, her work does make me favor him being blue rather than purple and evil. Her old account was deactivated, and she's still working on reuploading her past fics. She also changed her username back to the old one!! (and the princess scara pfp came back also, which did bring a smile to my face) Her smau's are just... chef's kiss, and she recently uploaded a fic with that nasty green creature (Haypasia) that comforted the Haypasia hater inside me, and if you haven't read it and you're a fellow hater like me, it'll do the same for you. (will be linking some of my personal favorites from her below)
╰┈┈┈➤ How cute~
╰┈┈┈➤ Not even death will do us part˚｡⋆｡˚
╰┈┈┈➤ Showing girly movies to Wanderer｡˚☽˚
𓏵‧₊˚ ┊꒰ @zph .ᐟ ꒱
Similar to Vee, Zeph is chronically offline to the max; he abandons his account from time to time in a way that if Scaramouche were real, he'd probably slime out Zeph. He writes for a gender-neutral reader (something I'd do if I didn't write smut), and his works are always a fun read, ESPECIALLY his drabbles that I obsess over and think about before I go to bed at night... I've read a lot of his works back in 2024, and I didn't know THAT was the Zeph that I'd be mutuals with one day. Time just goes by so quick... Anyway, I will link my personal favorites below.
╰┈┈┈➤ Stealing Lord Scaramouche’s Clothing. How would he react?
╰┈┈┈➤ He Can’t Sleep Without You. | roommate!scara x gn!reader
╰┈┈┈➤ mixed with love and sweet vanilla. | scaramouche x gn!reader
╰┈┈┈➤ mornings with scara. gn!reader | fluff
(im a sucker for lots of kissing, so this made my brain feel fuzzy... ifykyk)
credits to all the writers for that amazing work!!
authors note . might be my last link post for a bit, as this took up WAYY too much of my time and I gotta work on my other stuff... I hope the people enjoy this, and if u use my flipping header or banner ur getting a hot pepper shoved up ur ahh without lube. anyways, creds to user id:93213403 on pixiv!!
You're on your back, completely bare, heavy chains looped around your torso and between your thighs. He slid the vibrator inside you before he chained you down, and it's been buzzing at a low, cruel setting for long enough that your cunt is swollen and pulsing around it on its own. When he presses the wand directly onto your clit, your entire body seizes against the chains, and the metal digs into your ribs as you arch up with nowhere to go.
"Ah, there it is."
He doesn't move the wand at all, watching your stomach muscles contract, and he reaches down with his free hand to trace the red marks the links leave on your skin. "These are going to bruise," he says, pressing his thumb into one. "Good."
✮ crawling to him because he told you to
He's standing at the far end of the room, his cock in his hand, stroking lazily, and you're on your hands and knees on the floor, tongue out, crawling toward him. Every time you get close enough to take him in your mouth, he steps back, just one step, watching you follow. You bob your head forward, lips closing around his tip, before he pulls his hips back, and the wet pop of him leaving your mouth makes you whine. He takes another step, and you crawl forward. "Faster," he says, taking another step back, watching your knees drag across the floor. "You worship so slowly. If you wanted it that badly, you'd move like it." You crawl faster, your mouth finding him again, and this time he lets you stay for three seconds before pulling away. "Better, but I think you should beg for it with your words this time."
✮ bone gag
You're on the floor with a bone gag strapped between your teeth, drool running down your chin. Your arms are tied across your chest with rope, your skirt is bunched up around your waist, and you have no underwear on. Your legs are in the air, held open by the rope, and your eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, your head tipping back every time the dildo slides in. He's sitting between your legs on the floor, one hand working the toy in and out of you in slow, smooth strokes, his thumb on your clit, circling in the same lazy rhythm. He's savoring the wet sounds, the way your cunt grips the toy on every pull, the way your eyes try to focus on him and can't.
"Look at you." He pushes the dildo deeper, holds it there, and his thumb speeds up on your clit until your thighs tremble. "Gagged, tied up, dripping all over my floor, and you still think you deserve my cock?" He pulls the toy out slowly, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing when it's gone. "Pathetic little thing. You haven't earned anything yet."
✮ your mouth is on his cock, his hands are in your hair
He's lying back in the crimson robe he wears around his quarters, the fabric spread open, his cock resting on his stomach. You're between his legs on all fours, your tongue dragging up his shaft from base to tip in a long, flat lick, and your hands are at his sides, sliding up underneath the robe, your palms pressing into his ribs as you take him into your mouth. His hand finds your hair, fingers threading through, gripping, and his hips grind up into your mouth before you're even halfway down. He rolls his hips, feeding himself across your tongue in shallow, constant thrusts that keep him stimulated without going deep, using your mouth the way someone uses a hand.
At some point, your bobbing stops, and he takes over completely, both hands pushing your head down while his hips pump up, bouncing into your mouth. When he finally releases the pressure, spit strings from your lips to his cock in long, glossy threads, and you catch your breath while your tongue finds his shaft again out of habit.
He groans when your tongue drags up the underside, and his hips chase the contact, grinding against the flat of your tongue while your hands slide higher up his body inside the robe. "Don't you dare stop. That mouth is the only useful thing about you today."
✮ you can't escape
You're tied to a chair in the center of the room, your wrists bound above your head by a rope that's attached to the ceiling. Your ankles are strapped to the chair legs, and through a hole cut in the seat beneath you, a wand vibrator is pressed directly against your cunt at a setting that's been making your thighs shake for the last ten minutes straight.
Every time you try to squirm, your body grinds harder against the wand, and the extra pressure sends a jolt through your clit that makes your cunt clench and whimper involuntarily, which humiliates you more because your body is betraying you, and he's there, watching every second of it. He's across the room, seated, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his hand, and he hasn't touched you once.
"You're fighting it again," he observes. "Every time you squirm, you push yourself harder onto it. You know that, right? You're getting yourself off trying to escape, and it's the funniest thing I've seen all week." Your hips jerk, and the wand catches your clit at an angle that makes your back arch off the chair. A broken moan slips out, and you hate the way his mouth curves when he hears it.
"There it is," he says. "That's the sound I was waiting for. Go ahead, fight harder. Your body will do the rest."
✮ you told him you hated your chest... he's going to fix that
You were getting dressed, and you turned sideways in the mirror, and the words about your insecurity came out before you could stop them. He didn't respond to you right away; he just finished whatever it was that he was doing and then told you to sit on the bed.
He tied your arms behind your back, and he tied a pink cord around your chest in a pattern that frames your breasts, making them sit higher, more prominent, impossible to hide. The rope is almost decorative, a harness that turns your insecurity into something displayed. He coats his hands in oil, and when his slicked fingers find your nipples, you flinch because you weren't ready for how sensitive they are when your breasts are bound and swollen from the rope pressure.
"Don't move," he says. His thumbs roll over your nipples in slow circles, spreading the oil until your skin is gleaming. Your breath is coming out faster, and your back keeps trying to arch away from his hands, but you can't because your arms are tied. You can't cover yourself, can't hide, can't do anything except sit there and feel him tease your nipples until they're hard and aching.
"You said you hated these." His slicked thumb flicks across your nipple, watching it stiffen. "So now you're going to sit here while I show you exactly how wrong you are. And when I'm done, you're going to look at yourself and tell me they're pretty." His other hand pinches, rolling your nipple between oiled fingers, and you let out a helpless whimper. "And you're going to mean it. Because I don't accept half-hearted compliments."
WANDERER
✮ using your foot to get him off while he pretends he's above it
He's on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and your foot is pressed flat against his cock through his pants. His hand is on your ankle, guiding you, grinding himself against the arch of your sole in slow rolls that push his hips off the mattress. He won't ask for more because asking is beneath him, so he just moves your foot where he wants it and acts like this is something he's tolerating rather than something that's making his breathing uneven. His bottoms come off eventually, and the outline of him straining through his boxers is extremely noticeable that you can't resist pressing your toes against it just to watch him twitch. When both your feet are on him, one pressing his balls, the other rolling slow circles on his leaking tip through the fabric, his head drops back. "You're enjoying this more than I am," he says through his teeth, and it's the most obvious lie his tsundere ahh has ever said.
✮ he's eating you out, and you're not even paying attention
You're on your bed, legs spread, playing whatever Fontaine handheld device you convinced a merchant to import. He settles between your legs, pushes your thighs apart, and puts his mouth on you. His tongue drags slowly up your slit while you tap buttons and frown at the screen. You giggle when his tongue flicks your clit because it tickles more than it should, and your free hand drops to his hair, fingers threading through the strands absently, like you're petting him while you play. He hums against your cunt, and the vibration makes your hips twitch, but you don't look down.
He pulls back just enough to talk against your folds. "You're dripping on my chin, and you won't even look at me." You glance down, smile, and go back to your game. He bites the inside of your thigh for that, and your yelp makes him grin before his mouth finds your clit again. He's going to make you put that thing down eventually, and he's patient enough to take his time getting there.
✮ he wants you in bed and won't say it with words
He's lying on his bed in his sleep robe, the fabric open, cock out, half-hard and hanging between his thighs. You're sitting at his desk, reviewing scrollwork for a thesis you don't care about, and you can feel him staring at the back of your head.
You glance over your shoulder. He slightly shifts his hips in a way that makes his cock sway between his legs. He's just letting it hang there, while he looks at you with an expression that says "come here" without opening his mouth.
"Use your words," you say, turning back to your scrollwork.
"I don't need words," he says. "You already looked."
You cave in too quickly, already pushing the chair back before he finishes the sentence. He doesn't smile when you crawl onto the bed, but his cock twitches against his stomach, and that says more than a smile ever could.
✮ leaking for you while you kneel there, looking at it
He's sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread, his cock hard and dripping between his thighs. A bead of precum slides from the slit down the underside of his shaft. He touches his tip with two fingers, spreads them apart, and a string of precum stretches between them. You're on the floor in front of him, on your knees, watching.
He slides his fingers down his length, dragging the slick with them, coating himself in it, and his cock twitches hard enough that the next bead of precum drips off his tip and lands on his thigh.
"Are you going to keep staring," he says, his voice low, his eyes on yours, "or are you going to do something about it? Because I've been hard since you walked in, and watching you on your knees isn't making it go down."
You lean forward, and he watches you close the distance with that quiet, focused look, his clean hand bracing on the mattress behind him, his hips shifting forward to meet your mouth.
✮ spending quality time with the gift he bought you
He bought you the stuffed bear during a festival week in Sumeru. It's huge, and it's sitting on your bed, taking up a quarter of the mattress. You thanked him with a kiss, and he told you it was "just something practical, your bed looked empty," which is the most Wanderer way to say he saw something that reminded him of you and couldn't walk past it. He didn't expect to come back to your room and find you straddling its leg.
Your hips were rolling against the plush limb in slow grinds, the plush fabric pressing between your folds, and you didn't hear him come in because you were too focused on the heat building in your stomach. He stood in the doorway for a full five seconds before you noticed him, and when you did, your hips stopped completely, and your face went red.
"Don't stop on my account," he says as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I want to see you finish."
And when you don't move a muscle, he adds, "that wasn't a suggestion."
Your hips start moving again, slower, embarrassed, and the wet spot you're leaving on the plush is visible from where he's standing. He watches you grind, watches your thighs tighten around the leg, watches your head tip back as the rhythm picks up.
"You like it that much?" he asks, his voice softer now, like he enjoys watching this display. "Should I be jealous? Because I'm starting to think the bear's doing a better job than me, and that's not something I'm willing to accept." He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward the bed. "Move over. Let me show you what you're actually supposed to be riding."
LOHEN
✮ you can't handle it
You're in his basement with your ass in the air, ankles and wrists bound in rope that loops up through a hook that keeps you spread open with zero ability to close your legs. The vibrator on your clit is pressed so directly against the nerve that your entire lower body is clenching in visible pulses. He's holding a plug above your ass that's bigger than the one from yesterday.
Your cunt flutters around nothing, your asshole clenches with it, and he's watching all of it like it's a show. "Look at you," he says, tilting his head to get a better angle. "Both holes are already open before I've even touched you. You trained so well for me, didn't you?" He taps the vibrator with one finger, nudging it harder against your clit, and you clench again, hard. "That little hole just winked at me again."
He presses the cool tip of the plug against your ass, circling the rim without pushing in, and your trained hole opens for it reflexively, the muscle relaxing around the glass like it's been waiting. "See? Your mouth says no, but this," he pushes the plug in one inch, and your body swallows it greedily, "this says you've been thinking about it all day."
A whine that sounds more like crying than pleasure tears out of your throat, and he grinds the vibrator into your clit until the whine breaks into a moan you couldn't hold back if your life depended on it.
"Aw," he says, twisting the plug slowly, watching your hole stretch and grip around it. "Is that supposed to make me stop? Because that sound you just made is actually making me want to see how loud you get when I turn it up." He turns it up, and you scream into the mattress, your hole clenching hard around the plug. The unoptional moans keep spilling out of you one after another.
"You can keep saying no," he says, pressing the plug deeper, watching your body betray every word your mouth tries to form. "Your holes don't listen to you anyway. They listen to me."
✮ restrained in a split with a rod holding your arms in place
The bar holds your wrists apart behind your back, your ankles are forced into a split by the restraints, and when he slides into you, the only thing you can do is take it. He grips the rod behind your back for leverage, and the first thrust makes your whole body rock forward because there's nothing to brace against, nothing except the restraints keeping you exactly where he put you. Your ass claps against his skin on every thrust, and the sound fills the room louder than either of your voices. He pulls the rod back, arching your spine, forcing your chest forward while he fucks deeper. "You're making such pretty sounds for someone who begged me to go easy," he murmurs into the back of your neck. "I lied when I said I would, by the way."
✮ belt on your cunt, then around your neck
You're on the bed with your legs open and his belt folded in half, and the first slap lands directly on your cunt with a crack that makes your whole body flinch off the mattress. He watches your reaction with interest, the way your thighs try to close and can't because his knee is between them, the way your cunt flushes pink from the impact. He slaps again, harder, and the yelp you let out is half pain, half… something else. "You liked that one." He loops the belt around your throat, threading the leather through the buckle and pulling until it sits snug against your pulse. His free hand pushes your thigh back, and he slides inside you, pulling the belt tighter. The first thrust makes your eyes roll back because being full and getting choked at the same time is too many sensations for your body to handle. You feel him pull the belt tighter. "Breathe when I let you."
✮ the staples…
You've been crying ever since he finished putting them in, your face wet against the pillow he shoved under your head when your body started shaking too hard to hold still. There's a heart made of staples in the skin of your inner thigh, each one pressed in individually with a sterile tool, and the dried blood around them has crusted into thin, dark lines that trace its shape. The bruising beneath is already purple, blooming outward from each puncture, and the skin between the staples is swollen and hot to the touch.
He runs his finger along the edge of the heart, tracing the outline, and your leg tries to flinch away from the contact, but his other hand is locked around your ankle, pinning your leg open.
"Stop squirming." He says it like you're being difficult on purpose. "You sat still when I put them in. You can sit still now."
Your body isn't listening to what you want anymore; it's listening to the pain, and when his palm comes down flat across the heart, the slap connecting with every raised staple at once, your cunt clenches hard, and you let out a loud yelp. Fresh blood beads up around two of the staples where the skin splits under the impact, and it runs down the curve of your inner thigh in a thin, warm line that he watches with his head tilted.
"There's the red I wanted." He smears the blood with his thumb, spreading it across the heart, painting the skin around it pink. "You bleed so pretty for me. Almost as pretty as you cry."
Your tears are soaking into the pillow, snot and spit mixing on your face, and your chest is heaving in hiccups that shake the whole bed. He doesn't comfort you; instead, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingers trailing through the blood, and slaps the heart again, harder, his fingers catching the edge of a staple and ripping it halfway out of your skin.
The scream that comes out of you is guttural, ripped from somewhere deeper than your throat, and your hands claw at whatever's near you, the sheets, his arm, anything. He grabs your wrist and pins it to the mattress without looking away from your thigh.
"Shh," he says, and the gentleness of the sound is almost shocking. He pushes the staple back in with his thumb, pressing until the metal sinks into your swollen skin, and you feel every millimeter of it reentering the puncture.
You watch as he makes a fist, and you shake your head against the pillow, crying harder, "please, please, please, I can't-" but the last word gets cut in half when his fist connects with the center of the heart.
Your leg jerks so violently that your knee almost catches his jaw, and he grabs your ankle and slams it back down against the mattress. New blood is pooling in the center of the heart, filling the gaps between staples, and two more have shifted in your skin from the impact.
"You let me put these in you," he says quietly, his bloody thumb pressing into the deepest staple, the one at the bottom point of the heart, and he rotates it. Your scream breaks into a sob, and he leans down and presses his mouth to the heart. His lips are soft against the swollen, bloody skin, and his tongue drags across one of the staples, tasting the copper, tasting… you. He pulls back, blood on his lower lip, and wipes it with the back of his hand.
"Same time next week," he says. "I want to do the other thigh."
I have a Discord now! 18+, for readers, writers, and anyone who wants early wips and a place to chat!! (link)
the context is never getting leak don’t ASK. Just FIND and you’ll see…
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its rly not a hard find and if the person im talking ab sees this, I BEG OF U TO PUT UR FICS THRU GRAMMARLY. GET A SUBSCRIPTION. IM SURE ONE OF UR FANS WOULD PAY FOR IT.
authors note . might be my last link post for a bit, as this took up WAYY too much of my time and I gotta work on my other stuff... I hope the people enjoy this, and if u use my flipping header or banner ur getting a hot pepper shoved up ur ahh without lube. anyways, creds to user id:93213403 on pixiv!!
You're on your back, completely bare, heavy chains looped around your torso and between your thighs. He slid the vibrator inside you before he chained you down, and it's been buzzing at a low, cruel setting for long enough that your cunt is swollen and pulsing around it on its own. When he presses the wand directly onto your clit, your entire body seizes against the chains, and the metal digs into your ribs as you arch up with nowhere to go.
"Ah, there it is."
He doesn't move the wand at all, watching your stomach muscles contract, and he reaches down with his free hand to trace the red marks the links leave on your skin. "These are going to bruise," he says, pressing his thumb into one. "Good."
✮ crawling to him because he told you to
He's standing at the far end of the room, his cock in his hand, stroking lazily, and you're on your hands and knees on the floor, tongue out, crawling toward him. Every time you get close enough to take him in your mouth, he steps back, just one step, watching you follow. You bob your head forward, lips closing around his tip, before he pulls his hips back, and the wet pop of him leaving your mouth makes you whine. He takes another step, and you crawl forward. "Faster," he says, taking another step back, watching your knees drag across the floor. "You worship so slowly. If you wanted it that badly, you'd move like it." You crawl faster, your mouth finding him again, and this time he lets you stay for three seconds before pulling away. "Better, but I think you should beg for it with your words this time."
✮ bone gag
You're on the floor with a bone gag strapped between your teeth, drool running down your chin. Your arms are tied across your chest with rope, your skirt is bunched up around your waist, and you have no underwear on. Your legs are in the air, held open by the rope, and your eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, your head tipping back every time the dildo slides in. He's sitting between your legs on the floor, one hand working the toy in and out of you in slow, smooth strokes, his thumb on your clit, circling in the same lazy rhythm. He's savoring the wet sounds, the way your cunt grips the toy on every pull, the way your eyes try to focus on him and can't.
"Look at you." He pushes the dildo deeper, holds it there, and his thumb speeds up on your clit until your thighs tremble. "Gagged, tied up, dripping all over my floor, and you still think you deserve my cock?" He pulls the toy out slowly, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing when it's gone. "Pathetic little thing. You haven't earned anything yet."
✮ your mouth is on his cock, his hands are in your hair
He's lying back in the crimson robe he wears around his quarters, the fabric spread open, his cock resting on his stomach. You're between his legs on all fours, your tongue dragging up his shaft from base to tip in a long, flat lick, and your hands are at his sides, sliding up underneath the robe, your palms pressing into his ribs as you take him into your mouth. His hand finds your hair, fingers threading through, gripping, and his hips grind up into your mouth before you're even halfway down. He rolls his hips, feeding himself across your tongue in shallow, constant thrusts that keep him stimulated without going deep, using your mouth the way someone uses a hand.
At some point, your bobbing stops, and he takes over completely, both hands pushing your head down while his hips pump up, bouncing into your mouth. When he finally releases the pressure, spit strings from your lips to his cock in long, glossy threads, and you catch your breath while your tongue finds his shaft again out of habit.
He groans when your tongue drags up the underside, and his hips chase the contact, grinding against the flat of your tongue while your hands slide higher up his body inside the robe. "Don't you dare stop. That mouth is the only useful thing about you today."
✮ you can't escape
You're tied to a chair in the center of the room, your wrists bound above your head by a rope that's attached to the ceiling. Your ankles are strapped to the chair legs, and through a hole cut in the seat beneath you, a wand vibrator is pressed directly against your cunt at a setting that's been making your thighs shake for the last ten minutes straight.
Every time you try to squirm, your body grinds harder against the wand, and the extra pressure sends a jolt through your clit that makes your cunt clench and whimper involuntarily, which humiliates you more because your body is betraying you, and he's there, watching every second of it. He's across the room, seated, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his hand, and he hasn't touched you once.
"You're fighting it again," he observes. "Every time you squirm, you push yourself harder onto it. You know that, right? You're getting yourself off trying to escape, and it's the funniest thing I've seen all week." Your hips jerk, and the wand catches your clit at an angle that makes your back arch off the chair. A broken moan slips out, and you hate the way his mouth curves when he hears it.
"There it is," he says. "That's the sound I was waiting for. Go ahead, fight harder. Your body will do the rest."
✮ you told him you hated your chest... he's going to fix that
You were getting dressed, and you turned sideways in the mirror, and the words about your insecurity came out before you could stop them. He didn't respond to you right away; he just finished whatever it was that he was doing and then told you to sit on the bed.
He tied your arms behind your back, and he tied a pink cord around your chest in a pattern that frames your breasts, making them sit higher, more prominent, impossible to hide. The rope is almost decorative, a harness that turns your insecurity into something displayed. He coats his hands in oil, and when his slicked fingers find your nipples, you flinch because you weren't ready for how sensitive they are when your breasts are bound and swollen from the rope pressure.
"Don't move," he says. His thumbs roll over your nipples in slow circles, spreading the oil until your skin is gleaming. Your breath is coming out faster, and your back keeps trying to arch away from his hands, but you can't because your arms are tied. You can't cover yourself, can't hide, can't do anything except sit there and feel him tease your nipples until they're hard and aching.
"You said you hated these." His slicked thumb flicks across your nipple, watching it stiffen. "So now you're going to sit here while I show you exactly how wrong you are. And when I'm done, you're going to look at yourself and tell me they're pretty." His other hand pinches, rolling your nipple between oiled fingers, and you let out a helpless whimper. "And you're going to mean it. Because I don't accept half-hearted compliments."
WANDERER
✮ using your foot to get him off while he pretends he's above it
He's on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and your foot is pressed flat against his cock through his pants. His hand is on your ankle, guiding you, grinding himself against the arch of your sole in slow rolls that push his hips off the mattress. He won't ask for more because asking is beneath him, so he just moves your foot where he wants it and acts like this is something he's tolerating rather than something that's making his breathing uneven. His bottoms come off eventually, and the outline of him straining through his boxers is extremely noticeable that you can't resist pressing your toes against it just to watch him twitch. When both your feet are on him, one pressing his balls, the other rolling slow circles on his leaking tip through the fabric, his head drops back. "You're enjoying this more than I am," he says through his teeth, and it's the most obvious lie his tsundere ahh has ever said.
✮ he's eating you out, and you're not even paying attention
You're on your bed, legs spread, playing whatever Fontaine handheld device you convinced a merchant to import. He settles between your legs, pushes your thighs apart, and puts his mouth on you. His tongue drags slowly up your slit while you tap buttons and frown at the screen. You giggle when his tongue flicks your clit because it tickles more than it should, and your free hand drops to his hair, fingers threading through the strands absently, like you're petting him while you play. He hums against your cunt, and the vibration makes your hips twitch, but you don't look down.
He pulls back just enough to talk against your folds. "You're dripping on my chin, and you won't even look at me." You glance down, smile, and go back to your game. He bites the inside of your thigh for that, and your yelp makes him grin before his mouth finds your clit again. He's going to make you put that thing down eventually, and he's patient enough to take his time getting there.
✮ he wants you in bed and won't say it with words
He's lying on his bed in his sleep robe, the fabric open, cock out, half-hard and hanging between his thighs. You're sitting at his desk, reviewing scrollwork for a thesis you don't care about, and you can feel him staring at the back of your head.
You glance over your shoulder. He slightly shifts his hips in a way that makes his cock sway between his legs. He's just letting it hang there, while he looks at you with an expression that says "come here" without opening his mouth.
"Use your words," you say, turning back to your scrollwork.
"I don't need words," he says. "You already looked."
You cave in too quickly, already pushing the chair back before he finishes the sentence. He doesn't smile when you crawl onto the bed, but his cock twitches against his stomach, and that says more than a smile ever could.
✮ leaking for you while you kneel there, looking at it
He's sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread, his cock hard and dripping between his thighs. A bead of precum slides from the slit down the underside of his shaft. He touches his tip with two fingers, spreads them apart, and a string of precum stretches between them. You're on the floor in front of him, on your knees, watching.
He slides his fingers down his length, dragging the slick with them, coating himself in it, and his cock twitches hard enough that the next bead of precum drips off his tip and lands on his thigh.
"Are you going to keep staring," he says, his voice low, his eyes on yours, "or are you going to do something about it? Because I've been hard since you walked in, and watching you on your knees isn't making it go down."
You lean forward, and he watches you close the distance with that quiet, focused look, his clean hand bracing on the mattress behind him, his hips shifting forward to meet your mouth.
✮ spending quality time with the gift he bought you
He bought you the stuffed bear during a festival week in Sumeru. It's huge, and it's sitting on your bed, taking up a quarter of the mattress. You thanked him with a kiss, and he told you it was "just something practical, your bed looked empty," which is the most Wanderer way to say he saw something that reminded him of you and couldn't walk past it. He didn't expect to come back to your room and find you straddling its leg.
Your hips were rolling against the plush limb in slow grinds, the plush fabric pressing between your folds, and you didn't hear him come in because you were too focused on the heat building in your stomach. He stood in the doorway for a full five seconds before you noticed him, and when you did, your hips stopped completely, and your face went red.
"Don't stop on my account," he says as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I want to see you finish."
And when you don't move a muscle, he adds, "that wasn't a suggestion."
Your hips start moving again, slower, embarrassed, and the wet spot you're leaving on the plush is visible from where he's standing. He watches you grind, watches your thighs tighten around the leg, watches your head tip back as the rhythm picks up.
"You like it that much?" he asks, his voice softer now, like he enjoys watching this display. "Should I be jealous? Because I'm starting to think the bear's doing a better job than me, and that's not something I'm willing to accept." He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward the bed. "Move over. Let me show you what you're actually supposed to be riding."
LOHEN
✮ you can't handle it
You're in his basement with your ass in the air, ankles and wrists bound in rope that loops up through a hook that keeps you spread open with zero ability to close your legs. The vibrator on your clit is pressed so directly against the nerve that your entire lower body is clenching in visible pulses. He's holding a plug above your ass that's bigger than the one from yesterday.
Your cunt flutters around nothing, your asshole clenches with it, and he's watching all of it like it's a show. "Look at you," he says, tilting his head to get a better angle. "Both holes are already open before I've even touched you. You trained so well for me, didn't you?" He taps the vibrator with one finger, nudging it harder against your clit, and you clench again, hard. "That little hole just winked at me again."
He presses the cool tip of the plug against your ass, circling the rim without pushing in, and your trained hole opens for it reflexively, the muscle relaxing around the glass like it's been waiting. "See? Your mouth says no, but this," he pushes the plug in one inch, and your body swallows it greedily, "this says you've been thinking about it all day."
A whine that sounds more like crying than pleasure tears out of your throat, and he grinds the vibrator into your clit until the whine breaks into a moan you couldn't hold back if your life depended on it.
"Aw," he says, twisting the plug slowly, watching your hole stretch and grip around it. "Is that supposed to make me stop? Because that sound you just made is actually making me want to see how loud you get when I turn it up." He turns it up, and you scream into the mattress, your hole clenching hard around the plug. The unoptional moans keep spilling out of you one after another.
"You can keep saying no," he says, pressing the plug deeper, watching your body betray every word your mouth tries to form. "Your holes don't listen to you anyway. They listen to me."
✮ restrained in a split with a rod holding your arms in place
The bar holds your wrists apart behind your back, your ankles are forced into a split by the restraints, and when he slides into you, the only thing you can do is take it. He grips the rod behind your back for leverage, and the first thrust makes your whole body rock forward because there's nothing to brace against, nothing except the restraints keeping you exactly where he put you. Your ass claps against his skin on every thrust, and the sound fills the room louder than either of your voices. He pulls the rod back, arching your spine, forcing your chest forward while he fucks deeper. "You're making such pretty sounds for someone who begged me to go easy," he murmurs into the back of your neck. "I lied when I said I would, by the way."
✮ belt on your cunt, then around your neck
You're on the bed with your legs open and his belt folded in half, and the first slap lands directly on your cunt with a crack that makes your whole body flinch off the mattress. He watches your reaction with interest, the way your thighs try to close and can't because his knee is between them, the way your cunt flushes pink from the impact. He slaps again, harder, and the yelp you let out is half pain, half… something else. "You liked that one." He loops the belt around your throat, threading the leather through the buckle and pulling until it sits snug against your pulse. His free hand pushes your thigh back, and he slides inside you, pulling the belt tighter. The first thrust makes your eyes roll back because being full and getting choked at the same time is too many sensations for your body to handle. You feel him pull the belt tighter. "Breathe when I let you."
✮ the staples…
You've been crying ever since he finished putting them in, your face wet against the pillow he shoved under your head when your body started shaking too hard to hold still. There's a heart made of staples in the skin of your inner thigh, each one pressed in individually with a sterile tool, and the dried blood around them has crusted into thin, dark lines that trace its shape. The bruising beneath is already purple, blooming outward from each puncture, and the skin between the staples is swollen and hot to the touch.
He runs his finger along the edge of the heart, tracing the outline, and your leg tries to flinch away from the contact, but his other hand is locked around your ankle, pinning your leg open.
"Stop squirming." He says it like you're being difficult on purpose. "You sat still when I put them in. You can sit still now."
Your body isn't listening to what you want anymore; it's listening to the pain, and when his palm comes down flat across the heart, the slap connecting with every raised staple at once, your cunt clenches hard, and you let out a loud yelp. Fresh blood beads up around two of the staples where the skin splits under the impact, and it runs down the curve of your inner thigh in a thin, warm line that he watches with his head tilted.
"There's the red I wanted." He smears the blood with his thumb, spreading it across the heart, painting the skin around it pink. "You bleed so pretty for me. Almost as pretty as you cry."
Your tears are soaking into the pillow, snot and spit mixing on your face, and your chest is heaving in hiccups that shake the whole bed. He doesn't comfort you; instead, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingers trailing through the blood, and slaps the heart again, harder, his fingers catching the edge of a staple and ripping it halfway out of your skin.
The scream that comes out of you is guttural, ripped from somewhere deeper than your throat, and your hands claw at whatever's near you, the sheets, his arm, anything. He grabs your wrist and pins it to the mattress without looking away from your thigh.
"Shh," he says, and the gentleness of the sound is almost shocking. He pushes the staple back in with his thumb, pressing until the metal sinks into your swollen skin, and you feel every millimeter of it reentering the puncture.
You watch as he makes a fist, and you shake your head against the pillow, crying harder, "please, please, please, I can't-" but the last word gets cut in half when his fist connects with the center of the heart.
Your leg jerks so violently that your knee almost catches his jaw, and he grabs your ankle and slams it back down against the mattress. New blood is pooling in the center of the heart, filling the gaps between staples, and two more have shifted in your skin from the impact.
"You let me put these in you," he says quietly, his bloody thumb pressing into the deepest staple, the one at the bottom point of the heart, and he rotates it. Your scream breaks into a sob, and he leans down and presses his mouth to the heart. His lips are soft against the swollen, bloody skin, and his tongue drags across one of the staples, tasting the copper, tasting… you. He pulls back, blood on his lower lip, and wipes it with the back of his hand.
"Same time next week," he says. "I want to do the other thigh."
I have a Discord now! 18+, for readers, writers, and anyone who wants early wips and a place to chat!! (link)
authors note . You ask, and you shall receive. This was kinda fun to make, so I might do more in the future. I'm not good at writing scenarios too quickly for vids, because that'll take me weeks to construct, so for these scenarios, I just described what happens in the video, with some added dialogue. I guess it's useful if any of the videos get deleted... anyways, enjoy!
✮ in his lap, with your back against his chest, his hand around your throat
Your hand is on top of Scara's, out of instinct. His other hand is between your legs, two fingers circling your clit in a rhythm that's making your thighs shake. He's inside you, but he isn't moving, just letting you feel the way he fills you with his cock seated so deep inside. Your squirming causes you to grind on him, and his hand on your throat tightens.
"Did I tell you to move?"
You try to stop your movements, and he doesn't even give you a break as he rubs your clit faster. Your squirming gets worse, your body clearly trying to chase something his cock won't give you. You shift your hips up again, involuntarily, desperate, and he finally snaps his hips up, one brutal thrust that makes you drop back onto him. He holds you there, grinds in, your vision going spotty.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it? You couldn't even wait.. pathetic."
✮ collar and leash...
He fucks into you roughly, his grip on the chain keeping your back arched at the angle he wants, and every time you drop your head, he yanks the leash until your chin lifts back up.
"Head up. I want to hear you. Don't you dare hide in the pillow."
At some point, as expected, you do collapse face down, your entire body trembling. Instead of yanking you back up, he puts his foot on the back of your head. He's still inside, grinding into you with his foot, pressing your face into the sheets. Your moans sound just as pathetic as before, just... muffled now.
"You're so well trained, I barely even had to teach you."
✮ vibrating cat tail
You're face down with your wrists and ankles cuffed to a spreader bar that keeps your legs apart. The vibrating plug he put inside you has been going for long enough that your hips are twitching on their own. You can't move, can't close your legs, you can't even think properly. And he's just sitting beside you on the bed with a brush in his hand, writing on your skin.
You feel the tip of the marker drag across your ass. You can't see what he's writing, but you can feel how slow he's going, how precise each stroke is.
散兵のマゾ.
He tells you to "Hold still," when your hip jerks at the dot. He adds a small heart next to whatever he wrote as a cute little addition. "You know what it says?" You shake your head into the pillow, and he leans down, his lips near your ear.
"It says you belong to me, in case you forget." He turns the plug up in vibration, and you forget everything except for his voice and the marker moving against your skin once again.
(yes i changed the japanese lettering cuz i couldn't translate that girls ass for shitz... leave me ALONE)
✮ clit jewelry
He had the jewelry commissioned, made perfectly for you. (If you're a silver girly, imagine he got that for you instead) Gold chains that loop around your hips and between your thighs, and a small gemstone that dangles from the connecting chain. It was expensive, barely made a dent, he's a harbinger after all.
He's lying between your legs, one hand on your inner thigh, the other tracing the chains with his fingertip, watching how your clit swells through the ring the more he touches around it.
"Pretty."
His finger circles your clit slowly through the ring, and the beaded chain sways with every movement. He strokes, circles, and flicks, watching you squirm, watching the gemstone dangle between your legs.
"I should make you wear this under your clothes. Walk around with my jewelry on your cunt, and nobody would know except me." His thumb presses directly onto your clit, and the gemstone presses with it. "and you."
✮ tied up
Your ankles are tied and pulled back toward your head, your thighs spread and bound, ropes around your torso and arms holding you open and vulnerable, with your hips elevated. Moving is impossible, and that is the point. He smacks you across your ass, then again, and again. Your skin changes colors faster than a mood ring, pink, to red, to dark red.
He squeezes the marked flesh between his fingers, spreading you open, keeping you on full display for him. You're wet enough that he doesn't need to ease in, one thumb in your cunt, the other in your ass, pressing inside you.
He brings in the wand vibrator eventually, pressing it against your clit with a pressure that's too much. You jerk against the ropes, but the ropes don't give... he doesn't either. He holds it there while he spanks you, while his fingers work inside you, watching how you crumble.
"You don't get to cum. Not until I say you can."
WANDERER
✮ mid-term exams at the Akademiya are over, and he can finally give you the attention you've been craving
He's on the floor with his back against the mattress, and you're in his lap. He kisses you the way he's been thinking about it for seven days straight, and when you stand up, he doesn't let you leave. His mouth finds your thigh, your hip, and then he's pressing his face against you through the fabric like he's starving.
You push the fabric aside, and his mouth is on you like an apology he'll never verbalize. He eats you out standing up, your fingers in his hair, your legs shaking around his head, and when your knees give, he catches you, pulls you down, and kisses the taste of you back into your own mouth.
"Missed you," he says into the kiss.
✮ the position he's in after you begged him to, and he agreed only because you promised it would "feel good."
He's flat on his back, knees up, his cock lying heavy on his stomach while the device you convinced a Fontaine engineer to build drills into him at a pace that you control. You're sitting on his face because sitting and watching is boring, and why not waste an opportunity to put his mouth to good use?
Every time you turn the dial up, his mouth vibrates through your cunt hard enough that your thighs 'accidentally' clamp over his face.
"Fuck… slow it… ngh… slow it down, I didn't say you could-"
You turn it up, just for that, and he bites your thigh in retaliation. You don't hesitate to turn it up higher. His hips lift off the bed, his cock twitches against his stomach, and the sound he makes is so desperate that you almost feel bad... but not enough as you dial it up 3 more levels.
✮ he's taking his time between your legs
He's lying flat on his stomach between your thighs, his arms hooked under your legs, his hands resting on your hips. He's not rushing because your reactions are too entertaining to skip through.
His eyes are fixed between your legs, watching the way your cunt clenches around nothing every time his tongue hits the right spot. The muscles tighten, release, tighten again, a visible flutter that he can see, and his mouth curves against your clit.
"Look at that, you're clenching so hard, and there's not even anything inside you." His tongue flicks across your clit again, and he watches your hole pulse in response. "That's adorable... You're so desperate for something to squeeze on, and all you're getting is my tongue."
✮ you talked back to him in front of the other Akademiya scholars. this is punishment
You're at your vanity, touching up your makeup for your next class, when Wanderer picks you up and throws you onto the bed. You mistake it for him playing around, so you let out a giggle that dies down once you realize what he's really in here for. You still had your makeup brush in your hand, and he uses that as the main tool for the punishment.
The soft bristles trace the inside of your thigh, barely even touching you, and your leg twitches anyway. He drags it up higher, your hips shifting as he does, and he draws slow circles on your clothed clit with the brush tip, the soft fibers tickling in a way that's too light to actually get you off.
"You're not allowed to move."
You try, but it's hard when the brush keeps circling, feather-light, especially when the area between your thighs is so sensitive.
"You're very quiet now..."
Your body is twitching involuntarily, your clit swollen and aching for pressure that the brush won't give, and every time you shift your hips to chase friction, he pulls the brush away for three seconds before starting over. "I could do this for hours," he says, "and I will, until you learn that talking back has consequences that last longer than the conversation."
LOHEN
✮ you lost a sparring match and the penalty is whatever he decides
You're on top of him, straddling his hips, facing him, and his cock is between your thighs. He's lying back with both arms behind his head, relaxed, like this is something he's watching happen to someone else.
"Tighter. You're barely touching me."
You press your thighs together, and the friction changes; his cock slides through the tighter space, and his hips roll up slightly, involuntarily, before he forces them back down.
"Don't look smug," he says, even though you weren't. "You're the one on top of me doing thigh exercises for my entertainment. This isn't a win for you."
He lets his arms drop from behind his head, his hands finding your hips, and he guides your grind faster, setting a pace that makes his cock slide between your thighs in a rhythm you can feel in your clit. His hips push up to meet your grind, and the pretense of boredom is cracking.
"Fuck." His hands grip your hips harder, fingers digging in, and he cums between your thighs, spilling across the inside of your stockings and dripping down.
"You should lose more often. And next time, I'm not letting you use your thighs."
✮ he doesn't use his hands like he's bored, like the girl on her knees with his cock in her throat isn't doing anything worth gripping for
He grinds his hips into your face in a rolling rhythm that pushes him across your tongue and into the back of your throat with each push, and the sounds you make around him are garbled.
When his cock slips out, spit stringing between your lips and the head, he slaps you. It's a quick one, and, before you can even fully process the slap, he grabs the back of your skull with one hand, feeding himself back in, and his hand drops, hands-free again.
"You stopped. I didn't say you could stop."
He fucks into your mouth faster, one hand finally gripping the back of your head as he grinds deep, pulling out to stroke twice, and then feeding himself balls-deep, holding you there, your nose against his pelvis. He does this a couple of times before he lets you breathe.
"Good prey."
(ik its a mlm vid, but hush ur mouth HUSH.)
✮ he treats it like a game. you're the thing being chased
You try to crawl away from him, scrambling toward the headboard. Lohen laughs at you, his hand closing around your ankle and pulling. Your body slides across the sheets, and you try to kick, your free leg pushing against the mattress, but he's stronger, and he's not even trying. He drags you toward him with one arm like you weigh nothing.
"Where are you going?" He sounds genuinely curious. "There's nowhere to go. The bed has four sides, and I'm on all of them."
You try again, your leg twisting in his grip, and he lets you struggle for a few seconds because it's funny to him, before moving toward you, and dropping your ankle when he's between your legs, forcing them open around his hips. He's naked, fully, and you can feel his cock brush against your inner thigh as he settles.
"You're running from me," he says, leaning over you, one hand finding your throat, "with your cunt this wet?"
His cock drags against your folds as he shifts his weight, sliding through the slick, and the grin on his face gets bigger. "Your body's not very good at lying. Your mouth says stop, but down here?" He grinds his length against you, the head of his cock nudging your clit. "Down here is rolling out the welcome mat."
He pulls you up by your throat, lifting you off the mattress, and you're in his lap, facing him, your bare thighs around his hips. His cock is pressed between your bodies, the heat of it against your stomach, and his free hand slides up your side, fingers finding the hem of your top.
His hand leaves your throat and drops to your chest. He bites at your tit through the fabric, his teeth closing your nipple through cotton, tugging, and your back arches into him instead of away. He grins against the fabric, bites harder, and his other hand pulls the top up, bunching it above your breasts.
He shoves you down, flat on your back, the mattress bouncing under you, and his hands strip your underwear off in one motion. He holds it up, looking at the wet spot, the soaked center of the fabric that's dark and visibly damp.
"Look at this." He turns it so you can see. "You left a whole confession in your underwear, and you're still pretending you don't want this?"
He brings the underwear to your mouth. You clamp your lips shut, turning your head, and he grabs your jaw with his free hand, squeezing the hinges until your mouth opens. He stuffs the fabric in, and you try to push it out with your tongue, tasting yourself, the salt and musk of your own arousal coating the cotton. He pushes it in further with his thumb, watching your tongue fight a battle it's losing, until the fabric sits behind your teeth and your protests are reduced to muffled sounds.
"Much better." He lets go of your jaw.
Eventually, the positions shift, and you end up on his chest, his arms around you, and his hand between your legs. He rubs your clit while his other hand finds your throat again, settling around it loosely.
You can feel his cock against your lower back, hard and twitching every time you squirm against him. The underwear in your mouth muffles every sound into something garbled and pathetic, and you can feel your spit soaking through the fabric and dripping down the corner of your mouth.
"You ran from me for about four seconds." His voice is in your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder, watching his own hand work between your legs. "Four. And now you're shaking in my lap, dripping through my fingers, with your own panties in your mouth." His fingers speed up, and your hips buck. "You may be the worst prey I've ever hunted, but you're the funniest."
(you can tell i got carried away... sorryz 👀)
I have a Discord now! 18+, for readers, writers, and anyone who wants early wips and a place to chat!! (link)
