Chained Desires | Kinktober 2025
Sweet Sting, Crimson Notes / Day 2: Impact Play
☁︎ CW: NSFW, Impact Play, Oral, Spanking, Slight Sadism.
☁︎ Character(s): Ifa from Genshin Impact! Ambiguous character.
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Ifa’s patience had limits, though few ever saw them. Most days his easygoing charm let irritation roll right off him, but tonight even that failed. The day had dragged—clients ignoring his input, reports returned for revisions that didn’t matter, a meeting hijacked by someone louder than their words were worth. Then came the storm… a sudden downpour that soaked him halfway home while vendors shouted over each other while traffic snarled.
By the time he returned home, the weight of it all pressed at his ribs. He needed to regain some semblance of control, to turn the restless pulse in his chest into something more orderly. The room was dim, warm with Natlan’s typical humidity. Rain tapped steadily at the windows while a fan pushed slow circles of air into Ifa’s semi-messy den. Clothes and blankets were thrown about, finding purchase on whatever chair or cushion was in proximity. The room was the epitome of Ifa—warm, scattered, and filled with memories—from nick-nacks to ropes and satchels filled with whatever balms or crackers he’d last prepared for his Saurian patients.
If the day wasn’t stressful as is, he also had to put up with constant provocations from a certain someone waiting at home. Notes air delivered from Cacucu who seemed to find the arrangement hilarious. Occasionally accompanied by a risqué picture or two for maximum effect. And they worked, fucking hell, they worked. On top of everything else, it was those snide little comments and phrases he knew were intentional that dug under his skin more than anything else.
It didn’t take a genius to tell what type of mood he was in from his expression alone. Pair that with his tense posture, dark eyes, and soaked form? Yeah they had taken the liberty to shut their mouth and scurry to the bedroom before they did something to make his mood curl in the wrong direction.
“Maybe I took it too far…”
Any source of regret was far too late as they heard Ifa walking about the living room, giving them little time to brave the upcoming consequences of their actions. They had thought it was a smart idea at the time- really! Boredom and loneliness doesn’t pair well together in the realm of good decisions. And wanting their boyfriend to come home ready to take a spin in the sheets and maybe put them in their place? A win all around.
They hadn’t accounted for the other factors that might have made their ‘innocent’ little notes the equivalent of a challenge after a long day—to which he’d clearly had.
So now they could merely await the inevitable punishment that would come. Mourning the sanctity of their unreddened ass while it was still free from Ifa’s ire. Could they be mad? Not really. Had they intended this? Not exactly..? Were they somewhat excited regardless? Fuck yes.
Eventually, Ifa finally made his way into their room, now void of his work bag as well as his usual boots and hat combo. He rolled up his sleeves as he walked into their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, jaw working once before he exhaled.
They stood nearby, uncertain, waiting for his cue.
He simply patted his thigh. “Over here.” The words were calm, even, no trace of anger, only intention.
Hesitantly, they came to him. The sound of their breathing along with the faint creak of the mattress as they settled across his lap grounded him. He rested a hand between their shoulders, feeling the quick rhythm underneath.
“Easy,” he said, voice low. “You’re safe. Stay with me, just breathe for me.”
His free hand, meanwhile, reached for the nightstand. Shifting the drawer open and finding the handle to the paddle sitting inside. The weight was familiar; oak, perfectly balanced, the work of his own hands. Ifa could tell they were nervous, even with the anticipatory squirming they were doing across his lap. A sense of satisfaction burned through him at that, easing into an even thrum of fire in his gut as his fingers squeezed the handle.
He swung it once through the air, a short arc that whistled softly before meeting the stillness again. The first contact was light, testing; a crisp sound followed by silence. He watched how the other inhaled, how their shoulders rose, how the tension shifted. The little jolt they made in response to the swat, more from surprise than pain.
“Good,” he murmured. “Listen to the rhythm, not the sting.”
He worked by sound. The echo, the space between impacts, letting the sequence steady both of them. Every swat coming down evenly, the sound ringing into the room for only the two of them to hear. Their small breaks of composure, little moans they tried to restrain behind their lips fell freely every other hit. The pain paired with a resounding sting was enough for them to revel in, blossoming against their skin in an increasingly red hue while the sensation itself eased through their rear. He could sense their arousal as much as he could see it. The small reactions they released against their will, the press of their thighs together, seeking friction as the punishment went on. It was all abundantly clear to him, and it only made each swing more satisfying as the steady burn of lust peered through him.
The rain outside began to match the cadence, a soft counterpoint to each measured strike. With every motion, the tight coil in his chest unwound a little more. After several rounds, he paused.
A quick breath, then: “Green.”
He nodded. “Then keep breathing.”
Ifa set the paddle aside; the subtle clatter against the table marked the change. His hand replaced it, warmer, more direct. With it, the sound changed, softer but nearer. The contact was guided by instinct rather than wood and weight now, hungrier, more personal. The shift drew a startled breath from them as they lay sprawled over his lap, followed by a steadier exhale.
“Different,” Ifa said quietly. “Harder to read me now, isn’t it?”
A small nod answered him.
He smiled faintly, not that they could see the slight ease in expression. “That’s the point. You learn me, I learn you.”
Each motion that followed was deliberate, never hurried. Between them lay the steady give-and-take of trust—his control, their willingness to yield to it. He could sense when the balance tilted, when breath quickened, when silence became too long. And he adjusted, slowing, grounding them again with a firm hand at the small of their back. Their little shorts did nothing to shield their ass from the onslaught, only a pathetic layer of fabric blocked the impact. Even so, the crimson colored flesh bled out past the fabric, skin warm from the treatment.
When at last he stopped, the rain was softer, the air thicker. He kept his palm pressed lightly to their spine, feeling the rise and fall of breath settle.
“You did so well,” he said, voice quiet but sure. Kinder now, the lack of tautness apparent compared to earlier.
They nodded against him, a faint, tired sound that carried relief mixed with a morsel of desire. His hand moved from their lower back to their rear, palming over where he’d spanked to ease the sting. Nearly massaging the flesh as he leaned forward, speaking softly near their ear now, the earlier tension gone from his tone.
“Next time,” he said, “you’ll think before deciding to tempt me while I’m working, hm?”
He waited for no answer as he comforted them in his lap, one steadying hand still at their rear while he reached back for the nightstand, only pulling back once he found the balm he was looking for. Sitting back, he took the soothing balm and scooped a small amount into his hands—warming the balm to enhance its effects before he started gently applying it. Letting his hands massage their backside in circular motions as he gradually teased his fingers under the edge of their shorts. Using varied pressure, he worked the balm over their skin until he was satisfied, ignoring how worked up they grew as he simultaneously toyed with the proximity of his fingers to their groin.
“Mm…” their small, desperate hum made him laugh.
“What? Something on your mind, beautiful?~”
His teasing words didn’t stop there as he moved his focus to toying with the fabric of their shorts more intently.
“These shorts of yours… they don’t seem very sturdy. They’re almost sheer, you know? As if one gust of wind could blow them away,” following that he leaned down and teasingly blew a gust of air over their rear. Chuckling when he was gifted a shiver in return, their head snapping back to them with the cutest faux glare he’d ever seen. “Awh, come on now~ You can’t tell me these slutty little things are made to cover you up.”
With a waggle of his eyebrows, he easily shifted said shorts down in one tug, admiring his earlier handiwork as the expanse of red skin was now on clear display as he finished pulling the fabric down their legs and tossing it carelessly behind him to land who knows where.
Ifa only continued to laugh at their little flustered squeal, moving his hands to grope the swell of their ass once more before making a show of moving down lower to their thighs. Hands flexing as they squeezed the plush limbs and slightly spread them.
They made a startled, half-hearted protest, made even more obvious by their lack of struggle as he spread their thighs open enough to slide his hand between them. Teasing his fingers across the skin before circling their folds with intentional poise. He didn’t want to simply give in just yet, he wanted to make them a bit more desperate before he gave them what they wanted. The desperate little keening whine that followed that decision cemented it for him.
“Please what baby,” his voice purred with as much feigned neutrality as he could muster with his fingers centimeters from their needy cunt. “If you have something you want, you have to use your words. You know that.”
He could feel their squirming increase, seeing them press their face down into the comforter made him quirk his lips up, another silent laugh vibrating through his chest as a muffled whine followed.
“Please touch me, you teasing bastard.”
They gasped as a pinch to their sore ass swiftly followed the demanded plea. Ifa clicked his tongue with theatrical disappointment despite moving his fingers down to properly play with their folds, swirling their wet slick over his digits as he replied. “Tch. C’mon now, that’s no way to speak to your beloved boyfriend, now is it? Not after I’m being so nice to you even after your little stunt today.”
“Ah,” any attempt at a reply was cut off by a moan as his fingers dipped into their entrance, two fingers pressing into the tight heat and curling slightly to stretch them open. His fingers were larger than theirs, so it was a slight stretch, but their wetness saved them from feeling any ounce of pain. He used his free hand to wrap around their thigh to keep them spread open while his other hand focused on toying with their cunt. Moving his fingers to curl deep inside of them while his thumb circled their clit. The little bundle of nerves had practically been begging for attention, and who was he to deny it?
Slick leaked from their greedy cunt and down their slit, providing him lubricant to swipe his thumb over their clit and may them curl their toes. He was working them open enough he could scissor his fingers against their walls. By the time he was satisfied with how stretched they were, they’d been dancing on the edge of an orgasm. He wasn’t cruel enough to edge them, so he curled his fingers deep and repeatedly against their g-spot until they fell apart.
Their fingers curled viciously against the comforter, limbs trembling as the full force of their release overtook them. “Fuck- Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck Ifa m’ cumming- Celestia fuck–” Their body shuddered intensely as they came, walls pulsing around his fingers as he eased them through their release. Only when they came down from their high and were panting from their release did Ifa remove his fingers, raising the slick covered digits to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sinful groan.
“Mmhn. Fucking hell, baby. You taste absolutely sinful. Celestia, you don’t know what you do to me.”
He carefully flipped them over onto their back, repositioning them so they laid in the middle of their bed, surrounded by silk sheets that would smell of nothing but sweat and sex after he was done with them. Even tired, his words and manhandling made them giggle, the sting of their butt forgettable when it came to the prospect of being thrown around a bit.
So what if they were a bit of a whore…
Ifa dragged them so their thighs wrapped around his waist, not caring or having the patience to strip the rest of his own clothes off as he grinded his hips down so they could feel the outline of his erection. “This,” he grunted, voice rasping deeper as he couldn’t help but to rut his hips against them again. “This is what you do to me. Driving me insane while I’m at work—You got any idea how hard it is to go about your day trying to keep from getting a hard on?”
Moving to fiddle with his belt buckle, he unlatched his belt and pulled down his jeans, followed by his boxers until his erection was freed from its confines. Ifa spit into his hand before wrapping it around his dick, he was bordering on being painfully hard at this point, and his hand only provided so much relief.
“You going to let me fuck you, honey? Let me fill you up like the attention desperate slut you are?”
He slid his length along their slit, right in-between their folds as the arousal covered his cock, thrusting slowly to make them needy. The head of his cock rubbing their clit every thrust up made them even more slick, even more desperate to be filled and quell the growing ache inside of them.
“Yes. Yes Ifa please, please don’t tease me anymore. Fuck me, fill my up, let me feel you- Fucking- Please?” The mixture of desire and plea made his cock twitch, the heat in his stomach hot and bordering on unbearable as any semblance of restraint went up in the air. As he cursed under his breath and leaned back slightly to line his cock up with their entrance.
It only took one thrust for him to slide inside their tight heat, cock being wrapped tightly by their inner walls as he continued on until he was sitting balls deep. Ifa’s breathing was deep, restraint at its peak as he let them adjust while he fought to keep himself from combusting due to the sheer tightness of their cunt squeezing around him. After a moment he let his hips rock slightly, edging his cock out before returning it right back inside pressing up against their cervix with grit teeth.
“Shit. You’re so fucking tight, relax before you milk my cock too early baby.” His voice was as tense as he felt, any and all restraint boiling at its edge while his hands moved to grip their waste tightly. “Sweet Celestia–”
Ifa rolled his tongue over his teeth, flexing his arms before taking a deep breath to ease himself before he began properly thrusting. Each roll of his hips only seemed to make both of them grow more out of it. He was fucking them hard and deep, each thrust ending with the head of his cock assaulting their cervix as they could only mewl. Shedding tears as the pleasure rendered them speechless, the only sounds leaving them being a mix of moans and whimpering.
It only further contributed to his arousal, leaning down to connect their lips in a heated kiss. Tongues clashing against one another as he increased the pacing of his thrusts. Disconnecting their mouths, he focused his lips downward, kissing down the expanse of their jaw and leaving marks in his wake. By the time he made it to their shoulder, he grunted in annoyance at the fabric in his way—raising a hand, he hastily pulled their shirt over their head, tossing it behind them into the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor and latching his mouth onto the newly revealed skin.
Mark after mark, Ifa devoured them, branding them as his while his pace remained steady. The both of them were growing increasingly closer to their respective releases in no time, and with how they were growing tighter as they approached their own peak, Ifa would be quick to follow.
He felt them tighten even more, the tightness of their cunt leaving him feeling wrecked as his hips nearly stuttered.
“Fuck- Me too baby, c’mon. Come for me.”
Snaking his hand down between their bodies, his thumb found their clit and circled the bud, forcing them over the edge as he rode them through it and followed swiftly after. Thrusts growing sloppier before he pulled out, hand moving to fist his cock to completion as he came over the expanse of their stomach, pearly white cum joined beads of sweat.
They both panted, chest rising and falling in rhythm with the storm of the moment fading into a quiet calm. The heat and tension that had dominated the room seemed to settle around them, leaving only the warmth of shared closeness.
Ifa ran a hand through their hair, brushing strands from their damp forehead. “You okay?” he asked softly, voice low but filled with concern.
They exhaled, a shuddering laugh escaping them. “Yeah… I’m great. I think I’m… finally calm,” they admitted, pressing their face into his chest for a moment. “That… that was intense.”
Ifa chuckled quietly, the sound gentle, almost amused. “Intense is one way to put it,” he murmured, fingers rubbing soothing circles over their back. “You handled yourself well, though. Proud of you.”
“Proud of me?” they said, voice muffled against him, a soft smile audible. “You’re the one who–” They paused, letting out a small sigh. “…you know.”
“I know,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of their head and placing a playful tap to the tip of their nose as he returned to his typical joking self. “I was there.”
After a moment, Ifa rose slowly, careful not to disturb their closeness, and began cleaning up the bed a little. He tossed aside the disheveled covers, straightened their blankets, and quietly gathered what needed tidying. “Give me a minute,” he said, his voice calm. “I’ll be back.”
They laid on the bed, still catching their breath, watching him move with measured efficiency. A quiet sense of comfort settled over them—Ifa’s presence grounding them even now. Once the small tasks were done, Ifa changed into clean boxers, the familiar ritual oddly soothing after the chaos. He returned to the bed, lowering himself beside them. “All set,” he said softly, patting the mattress.
They shifted, curling slightly into his side as he wrapped an arm around them. “Thanks… for… everything,” they murmured.
Ifa brushed a strand of hair from their face and tucked it behind their ear. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, voice low, warm. “We’re… a team. Always have been.”
They smiled faintly, letting themselves relax fully for the first time since the tension had started. “Team,” they echoed softly, resting their head against his shoulder.
The rain had tapered to a soft drizzle outside, the room now quiet except for the rhythmic sound of their shared breathing. Ifa’s hand drifted lazily across their back, fingers tracing comforting patterns, and slowly the two of them drifted together into the calm of sleep, warm and entwined, the storm outside mirrored only by the memory of what had passed.
That.. and the forgotten paddle sitting on their nightstand.
