There’s just something about you. Maybe it’s the smug grin. Maybe it’s the mouth. But that guy can’t help himself. You run your mouth. He runs his hand through your hair.
And just like that, it’s over for both of you.
An anthology for different men, all with the same goal: Tug the hair.
Victor enjoys having his rat-tail yanked 👌 It causes his sensitive scalp the perfect pleasure-pain-ticklish ratio. The sound he lets out is quite nice :3c
But he also has a hell of a short fuse and ego, so he makes it very, very clear that whoever dares pull on it had better be prepared for his immediate retaliation. Oftentimes this entails getting slammed into the nearest wall, and/or zapped with an unbearable onslaught of ticklish impulses. He will get snippy and threatening if he can sense the perpetrator is into being put in their place~ (Or, if someone dislikes being yelled at, his voice will get unsettlingly sweet and teasing.)
He is thoroughly entuned to the thoughts of everyone within his facility, because of the Quantum Neural network in place. He can literally create psychic barriers around himself within his institute. So if someone is sneaking up on him intending to give him a yank, he will do one of two things: Stop them, because 80% of the time he prefers not to make himself vulnerable in any way to his colleagues, and will punish them for even considering it... or he'll allow them if he's feeling frisky, and delights in taking out his "temper" on them in return.
It's always nerve-racking to his colleagues to see just how far he'll allow them to push their luck before he retaliates and disciplines them into not trying again... At least until next time~
❌🔞MINORS AND NO AGE IN PROFILE DNI. This is a NSFW blog, you will be blocked on sight. (More DNIs in Pinned post.)🔞❌
[Another self-insert comfort fic featuring me and Leon. Because after something I did to myself recently. I need this yet I keep putting it off because I'm distracted by DBD again]
[Content warning for trichotillomania, aka hair-pulling disorder. It's a form of self-harm, so warning for that as well.]
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It'll Grow Back
It happened again.
It's not something that happens all the time, but when I'm stressed, sometimes...
All I can think of is how Leon will react when he sees it. I might be able to hide it for a while, but not forever. He's too observant. He's also too loving of all of me. He'll probably realize something's wrong the moment he lays eyes on me. I'm no good at hiding these kinds of things...or anything, really. From him or anyone who has any observation skills.
I put on my tri-colored hoodie, pulling the hood up over my head until it almost covers my eyes. It's rare to find clothes that are big on me, and this hoodie is somewhat oversized, in a good way. It hides my shame. Won't draw attention to me, either. Leon's used to seeing me wear this no matter my mood. It's just that comfy, you know? Hell, he's even stolen it from me and worn it himself from time to time.
He's not away on any life-threatening missions, but he is at work. I have no idea what he does when the world doesn't need him to save it. I mean, I don't really know what he does when it needs saving, either, but that's because he can't tell me without consequence. Maybe the same is true for the mundane, sorta 9-to-5 stuff as well? It's fine. I don't mind being in the dark. And normally I want him home as soon as possible, but today...I don't mind if he takes his time.
I must've dozed off. Sitting on the couch with something on the television, comfy in my hoodie, and tired from just being me...It was a recipe for knocking me out. I only come to because I feel something touching me. Leon's lips on my forehead. If it was any other time, such a sweet little show of affection would've been enjoyed with sleepy enthusiasm. Not today. Because of what happened earlier, the action causes me to jolt, eyes opening wide as my hands fly up to tug my hood down to cover my forehead again.
Real smooth. Now he'll never suspect something's up with me.
Leon apologizes for startling me. I apologize for being jumpy, citing terrible sleep from the night before. I'm lying, just a bit. I am sorry for my reaction, but I'm almost always tired, so lack of sleep isn't an excuse. He sits down beside me, hip against hip, and gently pulls my hooded head against his chest as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I all but melt into his side.
"What's wrong?" he asks after several moments of silence pass.
"What...? I already told you I'm--"
He says my name in that tone that has me shutting up. His soft yet stern spare-me-the-bullshit tone. I shrink into myself. I'd normally shrink away from him altogether, but it's impossible with his arm around me. He's all muscle, after all.
I sigh. "I really am tired...But I also just...I don't know. I'd tell you if I did, I swear."
I can't tell if Leon believes me, even though this is mostly the truth, because I can't bring myself to look up at him. The incident from earlier is affecting me, but I don't know why I did what I did. I don't know what's wrong with me, what triggered me to do it. How can I explain something like this?
Without warning, Leon pulls back my hood, acting too quickly for me to resist. My sins are revealed. I scream his name angrily, trying to cover my hair with my hands but I know it's too late. He's seen the damage. He violated my privacy and pissed me off, but there's no hiding it any longer.
"Sweetheart, what did you--?"
"Fuck you!"
I fight against his hold, and he doesn't resist. Tears are welling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall, cursing myself for being an angry crier because it only makes me feel worse. He shouldn't have taken my hood off without my consent. He knows that. He knows he fucked up. Doesn't change a damn thing.
As I'm rushing off out of the room, he doesn't try to stop me. Good. That would be the worst thing he could do right now. Touching me, that is. As much as I crave his affection, it's also unwanted after what he did. I make my way into our room, then into the closet, slamming both doors behind me. Slumping against the closet door in the dark, I slide down until I'm seated on the floor and just start crying.
Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe I'm a mess unworthy of Leon's love. But I'd have preferred to come around to telling Leon about my hair-pulling on my own time, when I was ready. He wasn't supposed to reveal the damage and force me to do it when I'm not ready. Like what the fuck, man? I even flushed the evidence down the toilet so he wouldn't discover all the hair in the trashcan and ask about it.
Should've known this would happen. He enjoys playing with my hair, despite how easily it tangles and knots and refuses to bend to the will of a comb or brush for more than a few minutes. The downside of having curly hair, you know? I've hated it for most of my life because it was always being compared to my older sisters' straight locks that rarely ever knotted and fought for years to make mine like theirs. Leon's helped me to hate it less. He's also helped me take better care of it. He knows a thing or two about hair care. I mean, have you seen his hair? He probably spends more time on it than it takes him to shower. Not that it's a bad thing.
How long did I sit in the dark bawling my eyes out? Couldn't tell you. Long enough for Leon to run out to pick up something for dinner for us. Long enough for me to get super snotty. Long enough that I got a headache, probably from dehydration. When's the last time I drank anything? My ugly crying drained me of everything. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep...after my headache was dealt with, anyway.
There's a quiet knock on the door behind me. The closet door doesn't have a lock. Leon could just open it. But he waits for permission, or for me to do it myself. I reach up and turn the knob once I feel it in the dark, letting the door open without pulling away from it. This results in me falling onto my back out of the door, legs still crossed and bleary eyes staring straight up towards the ceiling. I don't bother putting my hood back up. There's no point anymore.
"I'm so sorry," Leon says, getting on his knees by my head. He leans over so all I can see above me is his handsome face. His hands hover above my face for a second before dropping to the floor on either side of me, supporting his weight.
"I'm sorry, too," I say. My gaze remains unfocused thanks to the tears, my feelings, and the fact I'm not wearing my glasses. No holding eye contact for me. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"No, I earned that," he insists.
"Only you'd say something like that."
"You've said it before, too."
I sigh heavily, my chest shaking slightly like I'm still crying even though my eyes are just wet at this point. "Alright, fine. Only we would say something like that. Is that better?"
He gives me a small smile. "Not really." A pause. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. Let's just have dinner for now, okay?"
I nod. He offers to help me up. I hold up my arms, which he grabs and uses to lift me off the floor with little effort. That's something I'll never get used to, considering how heavy I am. Once I'm on my feet, he lets go and keeps space between us. He's as touch-starved as me, but he forces himself to hold his hands at his sides. I glance down at the one closest to me before slipping mine into it. He gently squeezes as he leads me to the dining table.
We eat in relative silence. At some point, I get up to pop a couple ibuprofen for my head to expedite relief since drinking something isn't working fast enough. Our conjoined hands remain that way throughout the meal. Makes it a little harder to eat, but we didn't mind enough to stop doing it.
After dinner, I rest my forehead on the table, closing my eyes. It would be hard to hear me talking like this, so I turn my head slightly in Leon's direction so my voice wouldn't get super muted by the table. Yeah, I'm ready to explain myself now. Well, as ready as I can be, anyway. If things went according to plan, I'd be doing this days from now, but life's a bitch and doesn't like to work with me.
Sometimes when I'm stressed, I rip hair out of me. I hate body hair as it is, hate when I grow it, and honestly, I've been tearing hair out of certain parts of me so often for so long that it barely even hurts. I'm thinking of one specific area, which if you know, you know. It's a sensitive part and yet I pull hair from that region without problem. Rarely do I ever attack the hair on my head, though.
When I do pull the hair out of my head, I often don't register I'm doing it until it's too late. It only seems to happen when I must be stressed yet am completely unaware of it and have no idea what's caused it. By the time I realize what I'm doing, enough has been pulled out that it's nigh impossible to hide it. That's what happened this morning. I just sorta blanked and next thing I know, there's a line of baldness across my head, most obvious along the right side of it. The line is like half an inch wide in a couple places, too. My pale scalp reddened, thoroughly protesting the painful act. Most of the hair has something--the root??--at the edge as I looked at it in my hands. All I could do in that moment was stare, mortified at what I had done to myself.
Then I thought about Leon and how he'd react. Embarrassment and shame took over. I flushed the hair and hid myself in my hoodie, hoping to buy myself some time. And then everything worked against me, like the universe itself was trying to humiliate me in front of my beloved Leon.
Leon listens silently to my confession, not even flinching when I absentmindedly squeeze the everloving shit out of his hand while I talk. When I finish, he hesitantly moves his other hand towards my head, tracing the line of missing hair without actually touching me. He's learned. He's not going to risk upsetting me again. In a whisper, I give him permission to do whatever he's thinking of doing. His fingertips graze my exposed scalp as he follows the trail. I wince. Despite how long ago I hurt myself, the skin is still sensitive, still inflamed, still complaining about what I've done.
"Sorry," I say.
"It's not me who you should be apologizing to," he says, continuing to run his fingers over that path on my scalp. Is he trying to soothe the skin with his touch? I'm not sure it works that way, honey.
"Can't apologize to myself. I'll never forgive me."
"You're so hard on yourself."
"So are you, on yourself."
He chuckles. "This isn't about me."
That's unfortunately true, so I fall silent again. Leon leaves me temporarily, cleaning up after our dinner. When he returns, he scoops me up into his arms, much to my shock, and carries me back into the living room. He sits on the couch where this all started, holding me on his lap and cradling my head against his chest. I'm not as relaxed as either of us would like me to be. How can I?
"Don't worry too much. It'll grow back," he says.
"It'll take months," I say. "I'll be even uglier than normal til then."
He scowls. Of course he does. He hates when I make these kinds of comments. I know. I try not to when he's around, but this one slipped by before I could stop it. Whoops.
"Let me get the scissors. I'll match you," he says.
I bolt upright in his grasp, wrapping my arms around his head. His face is smothered in my chest, but that doesn't matter. "Leon Scott Kennedy, don't you fucking dare! Don't even joke about it!"
"It's just hair," he says, his voice muted.
"Your hair is pretty and gold and gorgeous and does not deserve to be maimed just cuz I fucked up! No! No, no, no!"
He laughed, gently pushing me away from his head. "Alright, alright! Just don't insult my beautiful girlfriend. Nothing she could ever do will make her ugly. Not to me. Not in my eyes."
Warnings: Hair-pulling, Kazuha is sensitive, Dry Humping, sub(by) Kazuha, gender-neutral reader (no pronouns used), no use of y/n, lap sex
Summary: The movie was forgotten as you grabbed a handful of his strands, just to test it, just to try it, and tugged. What had been hiding in deep breaths, sighs and obscured by clearing his throat burst forth in a hastily stifled groan.
"'M so tired…"
You took your eyes off the screen and looked over to Kazuha, sitting next to you with his head tilted back against the couch, hands pulling his sleeves into sweater paws.
"We can turn this off if you-" His head met your lap. "Or that, yeah."
He narrowed his eyes at you from his position, back towards the TV, nose pushed into your own sweater, not far from your pants' waistband.
"Much better," He sighed and closed his lids fully before mushing his face into your lower stomach. "Much… better…"
Your eyes returned to the movie, but Kazuha's presence was much too poignant to even attempt to ignore it. He had managed to situate himself perfectly; neck coming to rest over your thigh, his shoulder right next to it. Every time he breathed in and out you felt his body move against your own. Since he'd now filled that space, you resolved to resting one hand on the back of the couch, and the other on his shoulder. He curled forward at the touch, closer to you, still.
"You smell good." He said, eyes still closed and completely relaxed.
"Oh?" You hummed in response.
"Did you start using fabric softener? Or… different perfume, or…" He trailed off, and you stared into nothing.
"No, nothing new or unusual. Why?"
"Hmm. Nothing."
He went quiet and you tried to focus your attention on the action on screen again. But it felt awkward, almost; your hand somewhere on his shoulder, the weight of his head in your lap-
You slipped your fingers into his hair, just behind his ear. Brushed it back in the motion and then let your fingertips gently rub over his scalp.
There was no need to look down to feel his reaction. His entire body quivered. Your hand had tilted his head away from your body a little and now he shoved it back in place, and your nails scraped his skull.
You could hear him hold his breath. Could feel him shift in place.
Seemingly unbothered, you repeated the motion. Brushed hair back from his face, massaged the skin beneath the pale blond hair. Noticed with interest how it affected him, how he went lax under your touch and still was so tense he might as well have been forced to hold a plank.
The movie was forgotten as you grabbed a handful of his strands, just to test it, just to try it, and tugged.
What had been hiding in deep breaths, sighs and obscured by clearing his throat burst forth in a hastily stifled groan.
"Kazuha?" You asked. Gentle, with your voice soft as honey, dripping sticky sweet.
He looked up at you out wide blown eyes, lips parted and wet. Looking so, so tempting. Whatever it was that you'd meant to say left your brain as your eyes caught on his mouth, unable to move on.
"May I kiss you? Please?"
"Yes!" He breathed out, full of relief and anticipation, and lifted his head to easier fit his lips to yours.
You tugged at his hair again, with a little force this time, and he broke away with a strangled moan, panting and gripping your thigh so tight it must've been straining his hand.
His eyes were dark as he blinked at you, only managing to stay away for a heartbeat before he came back, feverishly seeking your touch again, shoving into your hand and loosely twisting his fingers into the front of your hoodie.
"Can, you-" He took a deep breath. "Please- Again…-"
"What do you mean?" You were so close together that your foreheads touched. "You mean this?" You brushed a thumb over his bottom lip. Felt excitement roll in your stomach as he opened and closed his mouth. "Or this?" And you twisted his hair again, pulling, still gentle.
His entire face scrunched up as he desperately tried to keep the sounds that wanted to leave him under wraps. A shiver made him shake all over.
"-Y-yes-" He replied, eyes closing as your grip didn't ease. "Please-"
"Come here."
You flattened your second hand over your thigh, not needing to prompt him further before he pushed himself up and scrambled to sit in your lap.
His arms folded along his chest, nervous hands fiddling with the drawstring of your hoodie, with the hem of the fabric, dancing along folds until you put one hand on his hip and pulled him closer.
This close, his hard-on was impossible to miss.
His erection strained against the soft fabric of his sweatpants as your second hand buried itself in his hair again, pulled his head down to yours into a kiss he all too happily molded into.
He hissed against your lips as you dared to sneak a palm over the tent in his pants.
"Do you like your hair pulled, hmm?" You added the smallest bit of pressure and he slumped against your front, face coming to hide in the side of your neck. "Mhm? Baby, do you?"
"Ye-es," He whined after you'd twisted the hand in his hair. "Yes, yes, yes- I do, I like it so much, I- Ah fuck, fuck-!"
You rubbed a thumb over his tip, felt him throb under your hand. He moaned out, loud and breathy, as you moved your other palm to the nape of his neck.
"Fuck, fuck...“
"Do you like this, too?" You mumbled, lips right next to his ear. "Do you like it when I-"
He tensed in anticipation but you left him waiting - another moment longer, before you nipped at the lobe of his ear. He bit into the hoodie covering your shoulder. His hips jerked forward in search for more friction, and you gladly pushed him back with your hand covering his dick, rubbing along his length, coaxing another moan out of him.
"C-careful," He whined into your shoulder. "If, if you- O-oh... Ah-!"
You'd pulled his hair again, and hard this time. He fell apart at that, making tiny little noises as you felt him releasing into his pants right then and there.
He sucked in air as you continued to stroke him, tickling another weak throb out of him, and when you still wouldn't stop he began to tug on your hoodie, trying to swallow the sounds begging to escape him.
Only when his hand closed around your wrist did you stop.
He turned to putty immediately afterwards. Folded his legs in a way that allowed him to press his torso against yours, as close as humanly possible, left his face in the crook of your neck, lips softly mouthing at your skin there before that, too, ceased.
For a while you simply held him.
The screen was still showing the movie that both of you had lost track of long ago, and even now you were much more occupied in stroking Kazuha's back and head than to care about what was happening to the characters.
"Didn't know you were so…" You began, and then lacked the words to continue. You felt him attempt to bury his head deeper. He only gave a small hum in answer.
Your palms slipped to his ass, gently pulled his cheeks apart and then pushed them back together. He breathed into your neck, his hands still curling into the thick fabric of your hoodie.
“You’re so pretty, do you know that?”
He whined at that, only shoving his face deeper.
“So pretty, with your eyes so big, and so needy… Cumming just like that… Just from a little hair-pulling… Makes me wonder what it’d be like for me to lay you down in bed, properly… Exploring all of your skin… I could put a feather or an ice cube by the bed, you know, just to-”
He whined loudly, and you had to smile.
“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up first, hm?” You’d slipped a finger into his pants, scooped some of the creamy wetness there out. “So messy…”
Without having to prompt him, he leaned forward and licked his release from your digit, going so far as to suck your finger into his mouth.
You leaned your head against his.
“You’re such a cutie.”
He hid again at the compliment, his forehead finding your shoulder. You could see one of his ears, bright red.
