cw. nsfw, gn!reader, spanking, brat taming (in a sense), mean dom!kenshi, praise, degradation, sadomasochism, blindfolds *not proofread, just pure horny
[I need him so bad I think I might go insane,, GOOD LORD HIS TATTOOS PLS I NEED HIM IN ME RIGHT NOW-]
kinktober masterlist
MINORS DNI!!
“All you had to do was listen,” His words were followed by a harsh smack to your ass. “Was it really that hard, baby?” The force of it lurched you forward on Kenshi’s lap, the sound ringing in your ears as he delivered another. “Or are you just a slut who craves my attention all the time and throws a tantrum every time you’re not getting it, hm?”
With a blindfold over your eyes, you can’t see his hand coming down on your skin until you feel it. You can only anticipate the next loud smack. “Kenshi, wait-” Another hit is delivered to your ass, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as you clutch the side of Kenshi’s thigh.
“You couldn’t wait till we got home to touch me, why should I wait for you, hmm?” The teasing lilt to his voice only increased as he landed hits one after the other on your ass. “Besides, you look so pretty covered in my handprints.” You’re in tears by now, soaking the fabric over your eyes and Kenshi’s pant leg. Kenshi smooths a hand over your ass, the cold metal of his rings, stinging against the sore muscle.
“Oh, no snarky comment this time, you little crybaby?” You hid your face against his leg, sniffling as you listened to him laugh under his breath. Kenshi massaged the irate skin of your ass gently, his hands dipping lower between your thighs. “Don’t worry, dove, I’m right here.” You let out a sharp gasp as Kenshi’s fingers circled your slick hole and squeezed and fondled the soft flesh of your ass. Every now and then, he’ll land an unsuspected smack to your rear.
Kenshi knew exactly how to toy with you. He knows where to touch, how to touch and when to touch to elicit the most raw pleasure from you. It’s a craft he’s perfected over time. The time he’s spent teasing your body, stringing you along just to let you go and each act of discipline that he’s subjected you to. He knows how to take you apart and put you back together with ease.
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Kanzashi.
Character: Kenshi Takahashi
Content: fluff, fem reader, Kenshi doing your hair.
Though he couldn't see it, Kenshi stood in front of Sento and had his head tilted upward facing its display, knowing exactly where it was.
He reached out and stroked the smooth black sheath of the blade, feeling his fingertips glide. Though he couldn't see, he could remember how the lovely blade looked, color and embellishments.
He brought his hand down slightly and touched the object below it. Though a lot smaller than the blade, this thing was just as precious, considering how it was on a stand of its own. It was a kanzashi, a Japanese ornamental hairpin that belonged to his mother. It was an heirloom passed down to female members of the family. If a mother had no daughters, it would be passed down to the wife of the eldest son. It promised bountiful luck and protection to the wearer.
The hairpin was made of pure gold, decked with forged red camellias, flowers that symbolized love, humility, and loyalty. Golden rings and tassels hung from it's tightly twined black threads, making it a stunning and highly prized work of art. Its continual bequeathing did nothing to tarnish the beauty of the hairpin, and it remained as gorgeous as ever.
“Kenshi!”
An unmistakable voice called in the distance, muffled slightly by walls and doors, which garnered his attention. It was you, his girlfriend of three years. Smiling, he turned to the direction of your voice.
The sliding door opened with a soft rattle and he heard your footsteps against the soft tatami mats.
“There you are,” you sighed, now approaching him; he could hear you smile. “I was looking all over for you.”
“What happened?” he asked with mingled curiosity and concern, holding out his hand in search of you.
You moved closer to him and clasped his hand. “Nothing happened,” you assured, “I just needed help with my hair.”
You had recently broken your arm during training, and doing menial things was really difficult. Kenshi tried to help you as much as he could, but you hated to ask a blind man to assist you. The only thing you allowed him to do was to tie your hair whenever you needed it, since he found pleasure in it.
“Of course,” he smiled.
You stood in front, your back facing him and guided his hands to your hair. He first felt your hair by stroking it and it was smooth, just like Sento's sheath.
He took a moment to undo the tangles in your hair by combing it with his fingers. It felt like a great massage to feel his fingertips run against your scalp, and you leaned into his touch.
“How do you want me to do your hair?” he asked, gathering your hair in his hands and twisting it around as if to try putting it in a bun.
“Just a ponytail.”
Kenshi would not be satisfied with just a ponytail. He believed that such a beautiful lady like you ought to wear her hair intricately decorated. But he decided to go along with your wish.
He let your hair go and combed his fingers through the strands once again. You could feel his fingers touch your neck, and despite the many years, his touch still made you feel jittery. He gathered the stray strands of hair at the base of your neck and gently tugged the tail downwards, making your head go up slightly. He ran his rugged, calloused hand over your head, and ran his fingers against your temples to tuck any remaining hair into the tail.
He loved how silky your hair was, and enjoyed the smell of shampoo wafting from it.
“Give me the hair tie,” he said, holding his hand out over your shoulder.
You placed the hair tie on his palm, which he immediately clamped between his pursed lips. He swiped his hands over your head, neck, and sides once again and then tied the hair tie around the tail.
“Thanks, sweetie,” you said gleefully.
He could feel a little breeze on his face, and could tell that you were excitedly swishing around the ponytail to test how secure it was, like you always did. Just as you were about to leave, he stopped you.
“Hold on a minute. I need you to close your eyes.” he suddenly said.
“Why?” He figured you turned to face him, considering how your voice seemed louder.
“Just trust me.”
You obeyed and closed your eyes. Since Kenshi was still in front of the prized display, he turned around and took the precious kanzashi. Holding it in both his hands, he now asked you to open your eyes.
“This… This is the hairpin your mother gave you.” you said as soon as you had opened your eyes. He could hear the surprise in your voice.
“I'll put it in your hair. Turn around now.” Kenshi put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around.
“But Kenshi…” you paused but still allowed him to turn you around, and you told him about the rule of passing down the hairpin. “I'm not your wife. Why would you give it to me?”
Kenshi was silent as he twisted your hair in a simple bun and secured it with the gorgeous hairpin. Though he couldn't see it, he knew it looked stunning on you, and enhanced your existing beauty.
“Do you want to be my wife?” he gulped nervously, feeling his face turn hot as he busied his hand with adjusting your hair, when it clearly didn't need any.
Without hesitation, you exclaimed, “Yes!” and said it so loudly that you nearly busted Kenshi's eardrums.
“Hey, don't add to the list of my disabilities,” he said with a chuckle, obviously joking. He never considered his blindness a disability, but a blessing, and he was sure to say the same if he became deaf.
You giggled. “Sorry,” you said cutely as you then took his rugged, tattooed hands and looked at the floor-length mirror on your right, “I can see myself in the mirror, and the hairpin looks really nice on me. I wish you could see it.”
“I know what you look like, so I can imagine how you look, and I know you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.” He held your wrists and lifted your arms up to rest them on his shoulders.
Understanding what he wanted, you moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands let your wrists go, and feeling your body up against his, his hands immediately found their place on your waist.
“What if I become ugly and you didn't know? Would you still love me?” you asked in a whisper as your fingers trailed up his neck and combed through his short black hair.
“No matter how you look, my dear, I'll always love you. I don't love you just because I find you beautiful…” he paused to gently rub your waist, making you sigh, “I love you because you have a pure heart, and you've been with me through thick and thin.”
He paused, feeling a sob choke his throat. It wasn't everyday he felt emotional like this, especially for a Japanese man of his caliber. It was only in front of you he could feel comfortable being emotional, and your arms were his hiding place.
He continued, swallowing down his sobs to speak and try and speak clearly, only for it to still be slightly muddled with emotion, “I've had you when I had my eyes, and I thought you wouldn't stay when I became blind.” His voice was choked again, and you tightened your arms around him and rubbed his shoulder.
“But you stayed. And you cared for me, helped me.” He responded to you by tightening his grip around your waist, pulling you still closer. Those were only a few words, but in them were condensed his memories of you, three years worth of your love, service, and patience toward him when he needed it the most.
“I could not have asked for a better partner than you. I cannot imagine loving anyone that's not you.”
You smiled at this, and snuggled your face in his neck. He paused again, and you didn't speak yet, sensing that he had more to say. His arms tightened further around you.
“My love for you is blind,” he said with a chuckle,“and that's why I want to marry you.”
You smiled. While it wasn't everyday that he was emotional, it was also not everyday that he expressed his love for you in long winded speeches, apart from the usual and genuine “I love you”. You knew he was an awkward man who knew how to show his love through action and service, the typical Asian way. Yet you appreciated his often clumsy efforts to verbally express his affection for you, knowing that you loved to hear it, and that it would make the relationship sweeter.
And this speech had such an effect.
“Have I answered your question?” he asked, now feeling your hand caress his rough, stubbly jaw.
You brushed your thumb against his lower lip so as to not give him a surprise, and in response to his question, kissed him. He eagerly kissed back, and held you tighter against him.
His hand traveled up your back, to the nape of your neck, and to the back of your head, and he felt the cold metal of the precious kanzashi against his fingers. The threads and tassels twisted around his fingers as you two shared this special kiss.
Thoughts and imaginations passed through his buzzing mind, thinking about what it would be like to be husband and wife, living together closer than ever, having children, growing gray together, in sickness and in health, through wealth and poverty.
He sighed contentedly as he kissed you, knowing that down the line, it was only going to get better. Sweeter with age, just like wine.
Untarnished like the kanzashi.
End.
My other MK fanfiction:
🌸 Johnny Cage sings you to sleep
🌸 Liu Kang tries the karaoke
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