#sex fiend heisenberg

[thepatronsaintoffilth]

If you’re still accepting requests/prompts

Crawls away, overstimulated meets crawls after them/drags them back with Heisenberg or something else

🛑✋🏾🛑✋🏾 ADULTS ONLY ✋🏾🛑✋🏾🛑

🛑✋🏾🛑✋🏾 MINORS DNI!!! ✋🏾🛑✋🏾🛑

pairing: gender neutral reader x Karl Heisenberg*

*he may or may not still be a lycan in this one (like he is in YSLT), I didn't really give any indication to either him or reader being anything other than human apart from the, uh ... rut-like desperation, let's say (... you'll see what I mean in a minute ;)

cw: dubcon, overstimulation, resistance play, biting, toe-sucking, ass-eating, face-slapping, mouth-covering, real sex-pest Heisendaddy behavior, the whole nine, I'm so serious, a lot of "no"s being ignored in this one

❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

It was official.

You and Lord Heisenberg had just entered the second hour of what started off as - and was supposed to be - a quick, frenzied tryst in the workshop before descending into what you could already tell was going to be a full afternoon of balls-deep fucking.

You'd thought it was almost sweet at first - the sheer gusto alone was breathtaking.

But then he just wouldn't stop.

He just ... kept ... going.

And going.

And fucking going.

You only knew an hour had passed because when you were lying on the ground - the only thing separating your naked body from the workshop floor being Karl's coat - you'd caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall and realized how much time had gone by.

This is ridiculous, you hiss silently, shuddering and panting as your second - third? Fourth? - climax rips through you.

You feel his mouth between your legs for the 3rd time in the last twenty minutes alone and wince as your senses, pushed into overdrive, start to overload.

This is INSANE, you amend. We'll be here all goddamn day!

You try to tell him as much, but it gets you absolutely nowhere.

At first, Karl is merely content to shush you - whispering sweet-nothings and reassuring you that it would be over soon, that he was so close, you're so fucking sexy, you're going to make him cum so fast.

When that revealed itself to be a fucking lie, you begin to actively resist him - shoving at his shoulders, closing your legs against his gloved hands, turning your head or even biting him when he tries to stick his tongue in your mouth.

He was amused at first ("Feeling feisty, huh?"), but then quickly grows frustrated.

Which in turn earns you a slap in the face and that beautiful dick of his crammed down your throat, effectively silencing your protests.

You feel his balls slapping against your chin with each grunting thrust. His hands grip your head, shoving you up and down his shaft until you're too dizzy to resist.

"Don't wanna bite me now, do ya?" he growls, knowing full well you wouldn't dare.

You can't answer - outside of the embarrassing glkglkglkglk sound he was forcing out of you.

"Huh? Was that a yes? Try it ... See what happens."

He releases you abruptly, shoving you back onto the ground. You blink the spots from your eyes and wait for the room to stop spinning as you cough and sputter, making an even bigger mess of your face.

About a second or two later you feel his hands on your shoulders and his knees beside your hips, caging you in.

You slap his hands away, swearing and grumbling under your breath about what a goddamn menace he is. You manage to rotate onto your stomach and hoist yourself upright on your hands and knees.

In hindsight, this action was probably a little naïve.

You thought shoving his hands away and crawling out from under him was the universal signal for "I would like to stop now."

And for a moment? Karl actually seems to take the hint and back off.

... Only for you to feel his hands on your hips and realize that he had interpreted your movement much differently than you intended.

He buries his face between your cheeks and starts tonguing your ass, panting and huffing like he can't get enough.

Which in all likelihood, he can't.

You gasp at the feeling of his facial hair tickling you. Then you crumple, chest-down, to the ground as you feel his tongue probing you, heedless of the fact that you're covered head to toe with sweat and debris.

Your right thigh starts to wobble. The wobble becomes an spastic shake as the sensation becomes so intensely good, its almost unbearable.

The shake creeps outward to the rest of your body as Karl adds his fingers to the mix, muttering under his breath about how amazingly responsive you are as he fucks his middle, index and ring finger into your ass.

Between the effort to stay somewhat upright and not faint outright (even now you can't deny that the man has gifted fingers ...), it's a miracle you have the coordination to try evading him again.

When he takes his fingers out of you, you shake his hands off your hip and crawl quickly in the direction of the door, intending to use your momentum to carry to you feet, out the door, to freedom and maybe a shower because you're an absolute mess.

His grip on your ankle begs to differ.

Your Lord's touch is hard and unforgiving as, with one harsh tug, he pulls you right back where you started.

"Karl - !"

"We're not. Done yet."

He flips you onto your back as you get tangled up in his coat sprawled out on the ground. You drag it with you to cover yourself. He pushes the garment up with an impatient grunt, re-exposing your lower body. He thrusts himself inside you in one brutal, sloppy stroke.

"For fuck's SAKE, Karl - !" you cry out before his gloved palm slaps down over your mouth, stifling the swearing diatribe you were about to spit in his face.

"Shut up. And quit running from me," he rasps, his tone caught somewhere between smoldering irritation and what can only be growing desperation.

You manage to jerk your face out from under his hand long enough to snap, "Then get ON with it!"

"We're almost done, I told you."

"You said that an hour ago!"

Karl freezes. Then he glares down at you and coldly asks, "Are you clock-watching?"

An icy tendril of fear creeps down your back. You shake your head. You might be willing to put your paws on him when he goes too far, but you know better than to wound the man's pride - the one sore point that might legitimately get you killed, even with all you've come to mean to him.

"N-No, I -!" you begin, only for his hand to come down over your mouth again.

"Good. Now quit you whining!" he growls as he starts fucking mercilessly into you again with renewed vigor. "We're almost there."

He lets go your mouth and gathers you closer to him, the increased pressure and friction driving you that much closer to insanity. You feel another orgasm building, and you can tell this one's going to be messy.

"K-Karl, baby ... Please ... Give me a -"

"Shh, shhhhhhh," he whispers. "Almost there."

"Karl ..."

"Almost there. Almost ... Almost there"

Roughly half an hour later, the two of you finally get "there".

After several detours, of course.

Your Lord felt compelled to fuck your mouth again.

Then he spanked and berated you for protesting and trying to ward him off.

Then he sucked your toes greedily (a concerning first, since he'd never shown any interest in your feet up to this point) before finally, at long, long last, cumming inside you before collapsing on top of you.

"See? That didn't take so long, did it?"

You manage to slap him twice over his head before he even processes through the haze of post-orgasm bliss that you're striking him.

He look at you blankly for a moment, the depths of his eyes cold and almost transparently remote as he floats back down to Earth. You're reeling back for a third time when he catches you hand without even looking.

"Oh, I see ... You haven't had enough yet."

"Get OFF me, you oaf!"

"You should have told me so, buttercup. I would have held off a little longer."

"I swear I'll claw your eyes out if you don't leave me ALONE!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, that's right, talk dirty to me. That's the way to get me off your ass."

"FUCK YOU."

He snorts.

"You will, if you'd just hold still. So impatient ... It's like you're trying to get me hard again."

"Karl - !"

Whatever you were trying to say is lost in his mouth as he kisses you till you quiet down.

And he keeps going.

- Saint

P.S. - My ask box is still open for requests! This was so much fun, and I can't wait to get more. Also, shoutout to the anon who sent me this. I love a good yanked-back-after-crawling-away kinda vibe 😘😘😘

[acapelladitty]

We all know that Karl Heisenberg is a sex fiend, but what about love? Does he ever want love in his life or could even recognize it when he sees it?

He would consider himself a romantic at heart but...hmm...how do I put this...he's a complete fucking arsehole and that extends into his romantic inclinations. He believes in the idea of love and he believes himself deserving of it but he's very emotionally stunted giving his robbed childhood and lack of genuine emotional regard as he developed.

If he were to free himself of Miranda, I think he would escape from isolated Eastern Europe and move to somewhere more populated and technologically advanced so he could extend the reach of his abilities.

He's arrogant but charismatic and that would absolutely open up avenues for achieving some hole and companionship. However, his partner would need to be A) down with the whole abilities thing and B) have the patience of a saint OR the volatility to meet his energy.

TL/DR: Yes he could recognise love but he would be quite a toxic partner in terms of anger management and accepting boundaries.