Carpaccio Luo Yang - Tumblr Posts

And who is it? A beautiful boy with a chic hairstyle - Carpaccio Lo-Yang!

____

А кто же это? прекрасный мальчик с причëской ëжика - Карпаччо Ло-Ян !

🗡 ─── • 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Carpaccio Luo-Yang x F!reader

Warnings: Sadomasochism, knife play, blood play (?), choking / breath play, slight nipple play, dacryphilia, biting, injuries, creampie.

Wordcount: 3k

Notes: It's softer than it sounds... ? Heed the warnings, dont like dont read. Thank you to @shinsocest for betaing < 3

"Feels good ‘cio,” you coo as you writhe on the plush mattress top, body alight with a multitude of sensations. Delightful to you but all painful in their own right before feeling more, a searing pain that leaves you arching despite remaining untouched as Carpaccio kneels over your body, straddling your knees. Nearly bare with his chest on display and erection straining in his boxers, dark spot staining the fabric with pre as he watches you with rapt attention. 

“You look so pretty like this,” comes his calm voice, sending a chill down your body as warm blood trickles down your skin and threatens to stain his pristine sheets should they fall further. A new, thin slash appears on your upper arm to add to the growing collection as your boyfriend drags sharp steel across the same space on his arm only to remain unmarred, “tell me how it feels.” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer, just gives another drag of the blade, across his collarbone this time; featherlight in this movement. The wound is shallow, just enough to draw blood like the rest of them, but you hiss so sweetly nonetheless, “it stings, just a bit.” 

“Good girl. Good, but stings how? Like a burn? A paper cut? A bite?” He always asks with each new sensation after testing different pressures in different areas of his body. Wine-colored hues flitting to where his next mark will appear to watch it wink into existence. Carpaccio wants to learn them all, he’s elated that you’re willing to be his pretty little test subject, a lovely doll. 

The moment suspends with silence before he raises the blade, poised for another drink of blood by proxy. His arm hangs in the air unmoving above you, the scene painting you like a sacrifice to whatever god he worships but tonight you know he’ll only worship you. 

You gaze at him unwaveringly before his knife comes down, suddenly and swiftly but the sharp point stops short. Merely touching at your skin, teasingly almost, you can feel the coolness of the metal but he doesn’t apply enough pressure to even break skin. 

Sharing a smile after a beat, exhaling the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You aren’t afraid, however, you haven’t been throughout the entirety of your relationship with the freshly-appointed Visionary. 

He’d become surprisingly gentle with the weapon long before he’d met you, sometime after his first bout of real pain when he was still at Easton, even more so after meeting you. 

The cold point only makes you gasp, sigh as you get used to the temperature as Carpaccio traces it down your throat. Humming idly as his eyes rove over your body like he’s mapping out his path in real time. Grazing along where the ends of your ribcage meet before reaching the center of your bra quickly. 

Innocently dragging the weapon along the fabric that connects your cups, flattening the blade against your skin as you hold your breath to slip beneath the taut material. Tongue darting out to wet his lips as your boyfriend turns the blade so the point digs precariously into your sternum but no real harm will come to you. 

Inhaling with a sharp sound before giggling delightfully at the sound of tearing threads and snapping wires as your breasts are laid bare before him. The fabric falls away as you adjust your arms and lift slightly to toss the ruined garment away, nipples pebbling as the cool of the room touches them when you lay back down. Carpaccio’s eyes watching all of your movements intently, though it’s hardly indicative of what goes on in that twisted little mind you’ve come to adore. 

“I asked you a question pretty girl,” his tone is sharp, just like you like. An air of testiness as Carpaccio leans downward, letting his knife rest to the side of your head while he takes to palming your bare breast. Deft digits and broad palm kneading gently at delicate flesh as his thumb rolls over the pert bud while his tongue flicks teasingly at the other to elicit a low moan. 

“A slight burn,” you respond after pretending to mull the question over when you were really enjoying the attention you’re lavished with. Stifling a whine when he releases your nipple with a soft pop before leaning up to capture his lips with yours. Exhaling a thankful breath that he doesn’t opt to tease you by dodging your kiss in favor of toying with you more. 

You think he’s reached his own limit for the night, ascertaining so when you now feel the straining erection against your lower abdomen before your boyfriend adjusts to pin you to the mattress with a heavy breath. 

You love the sound, adore the weight of him over you as Carpaccio adjusts to a better position while lavishing you in attention. Tongue tracing along the already clotting wounds for the delightful metallic tang to invade his senses, for the heady taste to mingle with the sweet smell of your body wash. 

An intoxicating mixture only worsened by how you maneuver beneath him with ease so your thighs frame his hips and you can feel the outline of him against your still clothed cunt. Splaying your arms out against your pillow while he busies himself with exploring your body once more like it was the first time with you all over again. 

Groping gently along the natural curve of your waist and ghosting over your ribs to cup the underside of your shoulder blades. Basking in the scent of you, kisses and broad laps of his tongue between the valley of your breasts before he’s venturing upward. Sliding one hand to cup the underside of your right arm, lifting it after kneading his thumb into the soft space to take the flat of his wet muscle and drag along the expanse of it, groaning over some still running blood he catches along the way. Coating his taste buds with the precious liquid that keeps your heart beating, selfishly he believes it’s for him but he’s certain you wouldn’t disagree. 

Not when you give him this much, keep him so privy to your delicate body and life while you both sate your darker desires. 

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Giggled as your free hand cards through tousled burgundy locks, blunt nails scraping lovingly at his scalp as he makes a sound of affirmation. When didn’t he enjoy himself with you? A delight that doesn’t feel so sick when it comes to instances like these despite the moderate pain he still inflicts. 

Carpaccio is ravenous in his handling of you, no doubt enjoying the frustration he breeds in you by pushing down on your hips with your every attempt to grind up into him. To give yourself some much needed friction to your neglected bundle of nerves he manages to avoid even as he’s pressed into you. 

You were certain he’d been ready to plunge into you, impale you in a sweeter, more personal way. And yet, still, he takes his time with you. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, though; he always does, like with everything else in his life. Inside and outside of battles, your boyfriend loves to drag things out. Doing anything and everything torturously slow even when all he displays is a spiteful apathy but your patience has long since been worn thin.

He gives you an inch when you huff slightly in frustration, removing his hand from your hip in favor of squeezing at the fat of your ass when his lips seals over yours again. 

But your satisfaction is short lived when you’re allowed to move because it isn’t enough, far from in fact. Your still covered cunt grinding against his own concealed cock frustrates you further, more than what you enjoy in moments like these. It’s been long enough, you’re more than craving for him and for that closeness unrivaled. 

Whining because you know he likes the sound but it’s a wordless plea and insistent sign to give you some space to undress him further. Nimble fingers hooking into the waistband of Carpaccio’s boxers the moment he relents to you (like he always will, and only to you) to shimmy them down first while he kisses along your shoulders and collarbones. Teeth scraping gently along the slope of your trapezius before sinking in with a pressure almost deep enough to break skin but not quite the moment the article of clothing slipped below the curve of his ass. 

Just enough for you to mewl and clench your thighs around him, to tug a little more firmly at the wild spikes of his hair and earn a throaty growl from him. Your ankles hook at the small of his back, heels digging into the space to urge him into rolling his hips into you more but he tuts. 

“Need you, no more teasing,” you whine even as you tilt your head to allow him more access to your throat. Soft kisses and well placed nips sending shivers in waves down your spine as your hips roll up to meet his, grinding softly as his cockhead nudges into your clit every so often after he’s kicked away his boxers. 

Fabric of your panties darkening from the dampness your slick creates before you’re heaving breathy gasps, legs shaking as the frame his narrow hips. You push gently at his shoulders, a slight noise of complaint that Carpaccio only chuckles at; using the hand that props him up above you to hold your jaw to keep you in place. Sealing his lips over yours so you’ll melt into him while he feels about the mattress top for his knife. 

Finding the cool handle of it with ease, slowly wrapping it in his firm grip before moving with a swiftness. He cuts away the last article of fabric that separates your bodies so suddenly you jolt, lids shooting open to see his muted delight. Handsome, ever impassive but his eyes shine the slightest bit more, gaze not even lidding as he leans down to capture your lips again. 

Pupils staring into your own as his tongue breaches the seam and indulges in the taste of you further. Swallowing soft moans you reward him with as his cock slots perfectly between your folds. 

Your boyfriend moves quicker now, elbow propping himself up while he grasps his aching length after coating himself in your wetness with just a few rolls of his hips. Enough to make pushing into you easier but not enough to not sink in without a bit of resistance. 

He knows you like to feel your own bit of pain, loves that it’s still inflicted by him. Sweet coo melting into a drown out hiss as gentle prodding turns into a burning stretch. 

“Like that?” Comes his gravely question, rhetorical as it is while you fist the pillow beneath your head and the sheets. Moaning breathily as you unclench your teeth. 

The perfect amount of foreplay to prime you but also to still need a bit of force as his hand holds fast to your hip. Pushing down on your body to meet how he ruts into you, pelvis grinding into your clit when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. 

You arch and moan and babble his name before he even moves, overjoyed by the throb of being filled so suddenly as well as the fullness itself. Eyes rolling the moment Carpaccio cups your throat with one hand, thumb and index fingers applying steady pressure as he forces you to focus on the lazy pull of his lips as he speaks, “how did that feel?” 

“Perfect,” purred as your fingers wrap around his wrist, nails biting into his skin and the crescents slowly appear on your own the longer you hold him. Head swimming as you’re slowly, safely, starved of oxygen before he’s dipping down to you again. 

Letting up on the pressure as you breathe Carpaccio in completely, letting him overwhelm you in every way as his hips begin to roll into yours at a steady space. Downward into you, cockhead nudging perfectly into that patch that makes you whimper and claw at him with each stroke. 

You’re lightheaded before long, coil in your abdomen winding tightly too quickly this time around as you’re hurdled towards your climax. Fluttering lids and hold on him weaker than the initial elated grasp for purchase is telling of your orgasm so he releases you with a coo just as you inhale sharply as you reach the peak, “too tight this time?” 

Chuckling as you emphatically shake your head at him but Carpaccio has already made up his mind. Propping himself up on his arms as he continues the steady rhythm you like just so he can look at you already blissed out beneath him. Riding the waves of your first orgasm with sweet babbles of his name, turning your head to the side as your feet plant on the mattress in a meager attempt to meet his thrusts.

You’re so easy, always so eager and pliable for him, you’re perfect. Something to marvel at as he prolongs your pleasure while meandering to his own. 

The best thing about your boyfriend’s magic is not only do you experience pain in his place, you get the privilege of sharing in the pleasure you provide him in turn. Heightening your experience and creaming around him near incessantly while his skin only grows tacky with sweat from the effort of movement. 

Sharing in the euphoria albeit muted for himself but he enjoys overstimulating you, taking a different sort of sick pleasure in the tears you reward him with. 

Pearly and sweet with your face scrunched up at a different sort of sweet sting to revel in. Carpaccio leans down to you, tip of his tongue catching the saline droplet that rolled down your cheek effortlessly, tracing up the track of it before kissing at the corner of your eye. 

“Good girl, can you cry more for me?” His voice a bit strained, a touch more gravel to his usually even tone telling of his own crawl to rapture. 

You bite your lip as you writhe, trembling thighs wrapping around his waist as you cant your hips to take him deeper. Mewling at the sound of his throaty growl at the feel, lewd squelching sounding more intensely with the adjustment. Fisting the pillow by your head as you arch off the mattress, tears blurring your vision as they well in your lash line, falling quickly as his cockhead nudges into your cervix. 

A dull throb of pain emanating from the base of your spine upwards, sending a whole-bodied tremble through you as you choke on a sob. Overwhelmed in the best way, unable to decide on how you want to lay now because of it; finally settling for wrapping your arms around Carpaccio’s neck to keep him close to you. 

Reveling in the sound of his pants for breath the closer he draws to his own demise, hisses escaping through clenched teeth as your walls flutter around him again in another orgasm. 

He steadily grows desperate, a little more fervor in his pace and the sensual swipe of his tongue against yours the moments he wants to stop marveling at the mess he’s making of you melts into stalled movement for you to swallow the groans you elicit. 

“Does this feel good for you?” He questions as his hand slips beneath you to cup the back of your neck, forcing you to focus on him even as his composure wanes. 

Your face scrunches in confusion, brows knit with slight concern because he’s never asked that question save for early on in the relationship and sexual exploration. “You can’t feel it?”

“I can,” a quiet reassurance He smiles at that, a softness to his eyes that’s a rarity for many except for yourself. Craning you slightly to meet him for a chaste kiss as his hips buck involuntarily,  “but I want to know how you feel.” 

“Good,” a sigh of a sound, “always feel good,” fingers sliding along his shoulder and into his own hair. Eyes alight when you watch the small smile on his lips falter and break from a silent groan. Lips agape as his voice catches on a groan. 

It’s exciting to watch him begin to crumble, lose composure and get carried away in the carnal desire for release. Tugging at his hair when one hand knots into your own and the other holds fast to your hip in a bruising grip. 

Grunting and groaning and managing a broken, “close, so close.” 

Sealing his demise by breathing out a breathy “inside ‘cio, please inside,” as your nails rake down his back. Cooing lovingly whenever you don’t feel the sensation along your own back this time, Carpaccio cutting off his own magic so he can indulge in the minute pain of their drag. 

Groaning long and low, broken between kisses smattered wherever either of you can reach. Your cheek, his jaw, your throat, the corner of his mouth before you’re joining in sweet rapture. 

Your breath and sound stolen as white hot pleasure blinds the both of you momentarily, milking your boyfriend for everything he’s worth as he paints your velvet walls in sticky white. 

Collapsing first, limbs limp as you slump into the mattress and release your hold on him. Glistening in a sheen of sweat as your chest heaves in an attempt to return to an even rhythm. 

Only to have your progress dashed in the next instance as Carpaccio flips your positions so you’re straddling him now. Still hard cock twitching against your inner thigh as his spend leaks out of you. Reflexively grinding down into him so his the tip runs through your folds with ease from the lubrication. Stalled in place as he finds the knife without looking with perfect ease.  

Point of it to your throat, forcing your chin slightly towards so it doesn’t dig into the sensitive flesh. Breathing out slowly as you glance down at him to see him bear that sinister smile and lifeless eyed stare that makes you clench around nothing, loving the sudden shift in his personality, “we’re not done yet.”