#In the same way I wish there was a way for women to express their gripes without either immediately being coopted by bad actors or without | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeneveuxrein · 3 months ago

Text

better (ITZY Ryujin)

word count: 13.6K

(much overdue, and the pacing pissed me off that i gave up with editing. regardless, enjoy)

-- -- --

Shin Ryujin was seventeen when you met.

You were at the tattoo shop, drawing in your sketchbook since you recently started as an apprentice, when she walked in. You didn’t know who she was at first because she looked young to be there, innocent, shielded from the sad reality of life. The thought of a teenager rebelling against their parents’ wishes was at the top of your list. Why would a girl like that be in a place like this? She was cute—pretty even, that you were sure that if she was closer to your age, you’d approach her.

She appeared to be looking for someone anyways.

That someone was her brother, the owner of this establishment, and your mentor. Ryuseong greeted her, patting her head, as she pushed him off. She pouted, rolling her eyes, which made him laugh.

You brought your attention back to the paper, shading lightly this design you had been working on. Ryuseong praised you for your designs, appreciating your line work, which was the reason he took you in. He thought you had potential, something you took seriously. He hadn’t let you practice on people yet, but you were getting there. He had a couple clients willing, so it was only a matter of time.

You heard your name being called, breaking your concentration that your hand slips, an unintended line messing up the sketch. You sighed to see Ryuseong waving you over. It wasn’t like you could say no. Reluctantly, you stood up, making your way over and putting on your customer service face.

Ryuseong introduced you to his little sister, who didn’t give you much except for a bored look and a half-assed handshake. She barely even bowed, so you met her in the same regard.

“This is my new apprentice,” Ryuseong pulled you in, wrapping a loose arm around your neck. “He’s pretty good. He’ll be tattooing people in no time.”

“That’s cool,” Ryujin said in a tone that matched her expression.

It took a lot for you not to roll your eyes, especially in front of your boss. You didn’t, thankfully, awkwardly smiling as he asked her if she wanted to get dinner. He even invited you, which you couldn’t say no to this either.

Ryujin walked away, leaving you alone with your boss. He chuckles to himself, prompting you to raise an eyebrow.

“She likes you,” Ryuseong grinned before his face suddenly turned serious. “Just in case, you break her heart, I’ll break your face.”

You deadpanned, scoffing even. As if you would date Ryujin. There was at least a five-year age gap and she wasn’t like the usual women you dated. Odds were slim to begin with.

“Come on, hyung,” You shook your head, the thought slightly annoying you. “She’s your sister. I would not date my boss’s sister.”

A pensive look crossed his face, shrugging, “We’ll see about that.”

There wasn’t anything to see.

(At least if there was something to see, you would have seen it. It would have been obvious.

(It wasn’t.))

-- --

The shriek from behind you would have startled you, unintentionally making the wrong movement, earlier in your career. It jolted your client though, causing you to swiftly withdraw the needle before it touched their skin.

“Yuna-yah,” A familiar voice floated through your ears, followed by a slap. The woman in question whined, and you were certain she was pouting. “Oppa’s working. Be quiet. He needs to concentrate.”

“It’s fine, Ryujin,” You smiled at your client who lifted his head up to see what the commotion was. You apologized, chuckling as you explained that the woman who yelled wasn’t used to the buzzing of the needle. “And yet she still wants a tattoo,” You joked, even though you thought it was ironic.

It seemed to put him at ease as the women behind you fell into a hushed conversation. You overheard something about where to eat, and a third voice you also know, asked if they should invite you.

“Oppa,” You looked at Ryujin once you were done with a minor detail. “How much longer do you have? Unnie wants you to go to dinner with us.”

Yeji huffed, hitting Ryujin whose nose scrunched. She whined, shoving her face into Yuna’s back. The other girls laughed, shaking their heads at the very well-known crush that Yeji had on you.

You smirked, Yeji burying her face in more, “I have a little under an hour. I’ll pay if you don’t mind waiting.”

The girls nodded, smiling brightly, that you winked at Yeji. You saw her cheeks blush from across the room, hiding her face behind Yuna. You noticed Ryujin sigh, rolling her eyes at the exchange.

You found it adorable whenever Ryujin acted like this. You didn’t think you did anything to feed into Yeji’s crush. You were how you always were, but according to Ryujin, you gave her friend the idea that you were into her too.

You weren’t, by any means. You had your interests in someone else. Someone Ryujin knew well, very well, because that someone was her.

It wasn’t something you expected.

You should’ve taken it seriously when Ryuseong made that comment all those years ago.

Ryujin spent a fair amount of time at the tattoo studio. She would often come by after school, and sometimes even on the weekends to help out. You saw her more often than your own girlfriend at the time. There were days she acknowledged your presence with a mumbled hi while other days you barely even got a glance. You didn’t take it personally because she was your boss’s sister. There weren’t any expectations for you to be friends with her. The only expectation you held yourself to was to be polite and respectful.

It happened slowly, but she started hanging around your table, approaching you with simple questions. She wouldn’t linger, asking before walking back across the room. She sometimes rolled the chair over, curious about whatever sketch you were working on. She didn’t know if she wanted a tattoo herself because she wouldn’t know what kind to get.

Ryujin asked, one day, about the tattoos on your arm, and after that day, she always sat by you. She kept you within arm’s reach, never invading your space. You didn’t comment on it, conversing with her based on her moods. There was a nice banter and there was a comfortable quiet. You never forced a conversation with her, it always came naturally. She picked up on your moods too, knowing when to keep talking and when to exist.

“Whatever, we’ll be over there,” She gestured to the poker table. “Get us when you’re done.”

You nodded, dipping the tattoo pen into the ink. She didn’t seem irritated, but you would find out later.

Unknown to her, Yeji knew something was going on between you. To what extent? You couldn’t say, but she had an idea. She asked you out once before, but it was around the time the lines with Ryujin blurred. You enjoyed watching Ryujin squirm. Maybe it was an ego boost, but you had always been loyal to your partners.

Yeji still found you attractive, so it was hard not to blush when her friends teased her. It also didn’t help you’d feed into it just to get a reaction out of Ryujin.

That was always fun.

-- --

You stayed late one night, finishing up a design for a client that was going to take about eight hours to complete. You had already met him earlier that day to scale everything on his body along with making any final touches. Ryuseong trusted you enough to close the shop up, so it wasn’t an issue to have the place to yourself while everyone already left.

You heard footsteps over the music playing and saw Ryujin walking towards you.

“Leave something?” You asked absentmindedly, shading a section.

“Forgot my laptop,” Ryujin answered when she got closer. She grabbed the device that you moved to the corner of your desk. You noticed she left it earlier, intending to drop it off at her place on your way home. “What’re you working on?” She pulled up a seat, wheels rolling before stopping once you kicked your foot out.

“Finishing touches,” Ryujin leaned into your periphery as you kept drawing lines. “Busy with finals?”

“Don’t remind me,” She groaned, running her fingers through her hair. “I also have this project with Chaeryoung that we need to finish tonight. I’m heading over there now.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, figuring she got what she needed and would be on her way. She didn’t. She was still next to you.

“I think I want a tattoo,” Ryujin said suddenly, causing you to look up from your iPad.

Ryujin and her friends had talked about getting tattoos. They were open to it, but half of them hated needles. The other half didn’t know what they wanted—that was fair, the first tattoo is always the hardest to decide.

“Is Ryuseong going to be alright with that?” You asked, tapping the screen to save your work. You’d finish later.

She rolled her eyes, “A bit hypocritical of him if he says no. He has so many.”

“Tattoos are a bit taboo for women, especially here,” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Gangs and all that.”

“And you’re being sexist,” She slapped your chest lightly.

“I’m only joking,” You rubbed the spot she hit, as she stuck her tongue out. “Do you know what you’d want? Or where?”

Ryujin leaned forward, her perfume invaded your senses. You glanced at her lips, shaking the thought of what’d they feel like against yours. “I think,” She paused, crossing one leg over the other, “Maybe somewhere on my rib cage?”

“Of what?” You cleared your throat, realizing how close she was to you.

“Something small, something cute,” Ryujin smiled softly. “Any ideas?”

You hadn’t thought about it, but a few come to mind.

“Where exactly?” You asked, not thinking she’d lift up her sweater along with partially lifting up the sports bra she was wearing. You had never seen so much of her skin. “Uh?”

“Maybe here?” Ryujin traced her finger over a spot. “Now that I think about it, maybe a broken heart?”

“Someone broke your heart?” You were ready to fight whoever it was. You had grown protective of her over the years.

Ryujin shook her head, chuckling as she dropped her clothes, “And if someone did? What’re you going to do?”

You didn’t want to say because she knew of your temper, especially when it came to someone you cared about.

“I’ll fight them,” You said confidently, crossing your arms. “I don’t care.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes, muttering something you didn’t quite catch. She rested her head on your shoulder, sighing. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to be like this with her. It brought you a sense of closeness, knowing she felt safe with you.

At least, that was what you told yourself.

“Can you give me a ride to Chae’s? I took the train here,” Ryujin asked after a moment. “I saw your car out front.”

You were going to regardless. Her brother would have you dead if anything happened to his sister and you were the last one with her. You shrugged, and she knew what your answer was.

As you walked out, Ryujin told you about her day. She and Lia had been holed up in the library, studying with an array of snacks. She was looking forward to the girls’ trip they planned to Jeju Island where the only plan was to relax.

You opened the car door for her, rolling your eyes at her comment of how you were such a gentleman. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before for her, or for any woman in your life, but coming from her seemed to mean more.

Ryujin plugged in her phone, scrolling for what song to play as you put the car in drive. She chose something slow and mellow, you had never heard it before, but it sounded nice.

A comfortable silence blanketed the car ride. The only noise coming from the speakers as Ryujin kept adding songs to the queue. You mindlessly drove to Chaeryoung’s, eyes focused on the road until the song cut in the middle of the chorus. You checked the screen for an incoming call from Rosie.

“Rosie?” You didn’t miss the slight tilt in Ryujin’s voice, questioning, borderline accusatory. “Answer it. I’ll be quiet.”

You gave her a pointed look, and her head turned out to the window. You didn’t want to, but reluctantly pressed the button.

“Oppa,” Rosie’s voice filled the car. The pitch was low, seductive, the kind of voice that spelled trouble in the best kind of way. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m in the car,” You said, hoping she doesn’t say anything too explicit.

Ryujin shook her head, likely accompanied with an eye roll you couldn’t see. You felt the annoyance roll off her body.

“I miss you,” Rosie said slowly, the obvious reason why she called. “I could use your help with this problem I know you could fix. Do you want to come over?”

“Oh?” Was all you could say. You glanced at the woman next to you, catching the tail end of an eye roll. “Um,” You paused, unsure of how to answer. It was awkward because you had someone in the car with you, but what made it a hundred times more awkward was it was Ryujin. She elbowed you, nodding to respond. “How about I let you know in about ten minutes?”

“You’re going to make me wait?” Rosie lightly teased. “Fine. I’m, like, really horny,” Naturally forward in situations like this, “So I’ll be touching my—”

“Got it, Chaeng,” You rushed out before she could finish her sentence. “I’ll call you. Bye.” You ended the call, sending a sheepish smile to Ryujin as she rolled her eyes.

You should explain, though you couldn’t reason why. It almost felt like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t be, guilt weighing on your shoulders when it was normal to have a noncommittal relationship with a woman who saw sex the same way—just that.

You had met Rosie, or Chaeyoung depending on the day, a few months back while you were out with one of your colleagues. Lisa introduced you since Rosie came with Jennie—the love of Lisa’s life—and simply got to talking. She had a high-stress job that gave her no room for a relationship, and she had no inclination to be in one. Your life was the complete opposite, but you also shared the sentiment on dating.

Things had progressed after a couple drinks. A few intentional touches on your hand. Her body somehow closer than it started. At one point, her hand rested on your thigh as Lisa told a story.

You ended the night sleeping together. It was the right amount of casualness that, the morning after, led to Rosie proposing it as a regular thing with the no strings attached clause. You saw nothing wrong with it as it was a means to a biological end.

Yet you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you did something wrong as Ryujin remained silent the rest of the drive. She didn’t bother to touch her phone to change the song or check any messages. She was just there, blankly staring outside the window as the street lights flickered across her face.

You approached Chaeryoung’s building, pulling up to the curb as you put the car in park. You unbuckled your seatbelt, but Ryujin was faster, opening the door before you could make your way around.

“Hey,” You called after her as soon as you got out of the car. She was already a couple meters away when she stopped to turn around. “I’m sorry.” You had nothing to apologize for, but you felt the need to.

Ryujin’s shoulder dropped, and her expression softened. She waited until you met her on the sidewalk before she spoke, “For what?” She kept her voice steady, emotionless even.

“Just,” You awkwardly gestured to your car, “For that phone call. You shouldn’t have heard any of it.”

There was a trace of emotion you couldn’t discern, but it vanished before you could. She shrugs, lazily tilting her head slightly backward, “It’s whatever. I told you to answer it anyways.”

You apologized again, and Ryujin brushed it off. There was still that inkling of doubt, but you didn’t say anymore. You were walking a thin line of what she said versus what she actually meant. You took it at face value.

You perched yourself on the small brick wall, stretching your legs out as you waited for Chaeryoung to open the door. Ryujin mentioned something about the connection being down so the building occupants weren’t able to open the door remotely.

“Just go. You don’t have to wait,” Ryujin reached for your hands, attempting to pull you up. When you didn’t budge, her arms slacken, but her hands still held yours. She stepped in closer, nearly standing in between your legs. “You have to make a phone call.”

“Do you want me to?” You asked bluntly. Tired of the internal struggle your mind was in, you had to know. Her eyes widened, surprised, which told you that you were right, something was wrong.

You couldn’t explain what was happening, but whatever shred of decency you had was slipping. Whatever line you drew for yourself when it came to Ryujin was crossed, blurred, erased, as she kept her eyes on you.

“Well,” Ryujin dropped your hands, crossing her arms over her chest, “If I said no?”

“Then I send her a text and I go home,” You answered honestly. You’d like to think you were a decent guy, doing your best to keep your word.

“And if I said yes?” She moved enough for her hands to rest on your shoulders.

“Then I see where the night takes me.” Even though Rosie's tone in the car made it very clear what your night would entail. Ryujin leaned forward, and your arms snaked around her waist to pull her into you, looking up at her. “So which is it?”

She had never been this close, in your space. The urge to kiss her had never felt so strong, that very same urge you pushed so far down because it was Ryujin. Chaeryoung needed to get down here now before you took the woman in your arms back to yours—final project be damned.

“No,” Pause, “Don’t call her.”

You nodded easily because her eyes promised that it wasn’t going to be with Rosie anymore. It was going to be with her.

“When I get back,” Head leaning forward as she brushed her lips against yours, a sneak peek of what was to come, the contact firing all the nerves in your body. “Wait for me, yeah?”

You were rendered speechless off a barely kiss that by the time your brain started functioning, the door swung open. Ryujin was out of your arms, composed as if whatever the fuck just happened, didn’t.

Chaeryoung stepped outside, a curious look as her eyes darted between you. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Ryujin said easily, popping the p as she walked up the steps, leaving you alone. She met her friend at the top. “Thanks for the ride, oppa. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, Ryujin pulled her friend into the building, receiving a curt bye and wave from Chaeryoung as the door shut.

You had to keep your word, but you weren’t sure if she would.

You’d find out soon enough.

Ryujin showed up at your apartment a few days later—six to be exact, but it wasn’t like you were keeping track. There was a knock, a barely heard sound that you had to mute your television to be sure.

You were surprised to see her, welcoming her in as you opened the door wide open.

You had minimal contact since you dropped her off at Chaeryoung’s, with small updates on finishing the semester and how the Jeju trip was going. It was more than what you usually send each other, things that didn’t warrant a response. You were inclined to fool yourself into thinking it was her way of making sure you didn’t forget about her.

(You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Ryujin was all you thought about if you weren’t working.)

You grabbed her luggage from her, putting it to the side. She explained that Yeji dropped her off once they returned. To your surprise again, none of the women questioned why she had to come over especially right after a trip, though she mentioned there were a few raised eyebrows and snickers from Lia and Yuna.

“So,” Ryujin leaned against the wall. You take in her comfortable wardrobe, an oversized hoodie that reminded you of one you hadn’t seen in a while and a simple pair of sweats.

“So.” You broke out into a smile when she rolled her eyes. “How was the trip?”

“Good.” Short answer, not adding anything else, but you watched her carefully. Not wanting to pressure into anything because there weren’t any expectations for this visit. “How have things been at the studio?”

“Good.” You replied the same way, internally smirking when you caught her eyebrow twitch.

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” Ryujin huffed, pushing herself off the wall.

“And yet, you’re here,” You took a small step forward. Your hand twitched to reach out, but kept that under control.

Patience was what you told yourself.

Ryujin moved closer to you, just enough for her to be within reach. That was when you let the restraint go, wrapping an arm around her to have body pressed against yours. She let out a small hmph as you chuckled. Her hands gently pressed on your chest as she looked up.

She nearly stole the breath from your lungs when her eyes met yours. She’s beautiful, something you were always aware of, but being this close, made it seem like you had never really seen her.

“What do you want to do?” You murmured, eyes glancing at her lips. You wondered how she tasted. That kiss, if you could even deem it as one, made you want her.

“Watch this new drama with me?” It was an innocent suggestion, but based on the look in her eyes, it was the complete opposite.

You complied, relaxing your arm to let her walk towards the couch. You couldn’t figure out her angle, and honestly, it didn’t matter. If she wanted to draw this tension out, you would go with it until one of you snapped.

(You hoped it wasn’t going to be you.)

It happened like this.

Ryujin put whatever show she wanted to watch on as you settled on the couch. She scooted a bit, making room, but it was pointless when she curled herself into you, resting her head in the crook of your neck.

The opening credits started as your body relaxed into the cushion. You were hyper aware of Ryujin and all the movements she made. She placed her hand on your stomach, a bit lower than you’d say for cuddling. You did your best to ignore your body’s reaction, your cock stirred as her hand found a new spot on the waistband of your sweats.

One minute your attention was on the television, the next Ryujin was on your lap. She pulled you into a searing kiss that you followed without hesitating, letting out a groan the moment her tongue dipped into your mouth.

The next minute, or however long it was, Ryujin kneeled in between your legs, hand swiftly moving to pull your length out. She didn’t bother with pulling your sweats all the way down, just enough for her to wrap her lips around you.

“Ryujin,” You groaned through gritted teeth, head tilting backwards as her tongue licked around the tip.

It had to have lasted longer than a minute because by the time Ryujin popped your now-erect cock out of her mouth, she was undressed, naked, as she straddled you.

There were too many things happening at once and your brain didn’t have the bandwidth to register it fast enough. You didn’t have time to admire Ryujin’s body because her hand reached for your cock, gently tapping over her clit. And she was soaked. You could probably slide right in between her legs and spontaneously combust because it was all too much. She guided you along her slit, making everything wetter as she teased the tip at her entrance.

Your hands grabbed onto her hips, the muscles pliable as they tightened to bring her body down. You had one thing on your mind and that was Ryujin.

As you tried your best to get her to move, Ryujin leaned forward, lips ghosting your ear, “Do you want to know something?”

You didn’t understand why or how she felt the need to tell you whatever was more pressing than getting inside her as quickly as possible.

“What?” You groaned again as your cock slid in between her lower lips. Your body had a mind of its own, rolling upward for the tip to graze where you need to be at this point.

“Do you really want to know?” The question came out breathy, voice shaking as you tried to pull her down.

You didn’t, but her position was firm. She didn’t budge. “Yes, fuck, tell me.” Your control was slipping fast.

“I’ve thought about this,” Ryujin said as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve thought about you like this. I always wondered what it’d be like.”

You didn’t share that sentiment, but at this rate with a naked Ryujin squirming on your lap, doing everything to not slide straight down, your imagination ran wild.

“Well, why don’t we find out?” You grunted, frustrated with her teasing.

Ryujin strategically placed your tip, shifting her body slightly forward, at her opening. Heat emanated from the contact and you nearly blew your load, embarrassingly enough. You’d like to believe you had a healthy sex life. One that wasn’t outrageous, but one that you indulge in casually, occasionally, with women. You weren’t a stranger to one night stands, but you tended to be consistent with one person.

“You’re definitely bigger than I imagined,” She slowly, so fucking slowly, inserted you, lowering her body as you were immediately engulfed by her warmth. “I don’t know if you’ll fit. It feels tight.”

“Jagiya,” The nickname fell from your mouth too easily, earning a grin from the woman who literally could do anything to you.

“Jagiya?” Ryujin repeated, tilting her head. “Cute. I didn’t know you thought of me so fondly already.”

Your mind screamed enough, done with her teasing to the point that you needed to take the control back.

(You had none left, but that wasn’t the point.)

In a fluid motion, you switched positions, lifting Ryujin off before she could continue any longer with the torturous pace she tried to set. Her knees fell to the side, and you finally took all of her in.

“You’re…” You had no words. Her skin was soft, yet firm as you ran your hands down her stomach. The muscles flinched at the touch, watching her tilt her head back as you swiped a broad finger through her folds. “Testing me. You have about five seconds to tell me to stop.”

Ryujin smirked, boldly slipping her hand in between your bodies. Delicate fingers wrapped around your girth, aiming the head directly where you were dying to be. “Do it, jagiya.”

Your hands shot to her waist as you sunk in.

The air left your lungs the moment her warmth hugged your length, her legs spread wider as you continued to sink deeper into her. Her hand fell to the side, gripping the cushion as she let out the hottest moan you ever heard. A sound you wanted to hear again.

And again the moment you filled her to the hilt.

You swore you saw the gates of heaven opened up—or hell—welcoming you with a warm, tight hug.

“Okay so better than I imagined,” Ryujin moaned, all breathy, “So fucking better.”

You blanked out, unsure of what reality you fell into. You couldn’t think of anything but her. “Baby,” You groaned as her walls pulsed, throbbing along with your cock. You blew out a breath to keep you from blowing your load.

“You feel better,” Ryujin said slowly, seductively, thick with desire, “But can you fuck me like how I imagined?”

The challenge tapped into a side you didn’t go to often. Hardly ever. A much darker side you only went to with one person before. It hadn’t been seen since.

Yet it was there, on your shoulder, whispering into your ear that Ryujin wanted it. Wanted you and all the debauchery you could bring into her life.

“Don’t tempt me, Jin-yah,” You gritted through your teeth, the voice on your shoulder getting louder as she squirmed in your hold. The movement triggered the nerves in your body, shooting along your spine at the sensation.

“Fuck me,” Ryujin moaned, rolling her body down in a fluid motion. You snapped your hips forward, watching her breasts bounce from the force. “God, yes. Please.”

You slowly, agonizingly, withdrew your cock, leaving just the head nestled in between her folds. You didn’t miss the way she gasped, sharply inhaling, whining at the loss. You saw the way her lower lips pulsed, gripping on the little you left inside her.

“You want me?” You had to hear her say it. You needed her permission before you listened to the devil, praising you for the sins you wanted to commit.

Ryujin eagerly nodded, eyes low as she stared at you. “I want you.”

You thrusted without warning, her body jolting as she bit her lip, stifling a moan.

“I want to hear you,” You grunted with another precise thrust.

This time, Ryujin screamed.

“Fuck,” Your eyes rolled back, choking out, “I want to drown myself in you.”

You moved on pure instinct after that. You focused on Ryujin, her moans, her gasps, her body reacting to yours. You might have lost your sense of reality because she felt too tight, too warm, too good, but she tethered you, guiding you to remind you that what was happening was very real.

You didn’t know how, but you somehow ended up in your room. Ryujin placed a finger on your chest, gently pushing you on the bed. You let her, easily laying back before she straddled your hips.

“My turn,” Ryujin kissed you sweetly on the lips before you were wrapped around her once again.

It happened fast, embarrassingly fast as she rode you into oblivion. You couldn’t help but move with her, meeting her at the perfect time. She fell forward once you hit that spot, bringing her mouth to yours in a messy kiss.

“God,” Ryujin breathed out, “I’m going to—”

“Me too,” You grunted with a quick snap of your hips. You felt her pussy tightening as her pace increased, nearly slamming down on your body. “I—fuck, where?”

How you had the state of mind to ask was beyond you. You wanted to paint her walls white, making sure she was filled with you and then some. Her hands found yours, interlacing them together as she brought your arms over your head.

“In my mouth,” Ryujin said sharply before slyly adding, “But after I cum.”

You didn’t get the chance to formulate a response because Ryujin’s hands let go, perching them on your chest as you watched her hips move dangerously over you. You pathetically whimpered at the sight of your cock disappearing in between her legs. Your stomach tightened as you miserably tried to hold it together, and you almost exploded the moment her inner walls squeezed like vice, sucking the air out of your lungs. Her body froze before violently shaking, the rhythmic pulses had you dizzy with pleasure.

It took everything in you to not cum inside her as you watched her orgasm shatter through her. She nearly sobbed as her nails dug into your chest, the pain heightening all your senses.

You almost shouted when the air hit your cock, the warmth suddenly gone before it was replaced with another kind of warmth, a different kind that had you seeing stars.

“Oh—fuck,” Your hand shot downwards, fingers tangling in Ryujin’s hair. “So fucking good, Jin-yah.”

The praise spurred her on as her throat constricted around your length, catching you off guard that you couldn’t stop your orgasm any more. Hot thick ropes shot out of you without warning. Ryujin slightly gagged, causing you to thrust into her mouth as you pushed her head down more.

That was the hardest you ever came, and Ryujin drained you into her mouth without any complaint, any resistance. Once it subsided, the grip on her hair slackened, arm falling off to the side, as your eyes fell shut. You vaguely heard her choke, heavily breathing, that you barely opened your eyes to see a small dribble of your essence drip down her chin. You didn’t miss the way her throat moved, swallowing your release without asking.

Ryujin’s eyes opened slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips as your eyes met. Her jaw lowered, seeing all pink with pearly white teeth with no trace of you anywhere.

“So?” You said after a moment, catching your breath. She placed a soft kiss on your stomach before crawling back on top of you, laying her head sweetly on your chest. “Better than your imagination?”

“You have no idea,” Ryujin answered softly, affectionately, lips kissing your neck.

-- --

You fell into some sort of routine with Ryujin.

She waited till you were done with clients at the studio, waited till your work station was clean, waited for you while Ryuseong teased you both.

You didn’t ask her to, but there was some part of you that was glad she did.

Some nights ended the way the first day did while others ended falling asleep, cuddled underneath the blanket, wrapped around each other while you shared things you never spoke of.

There was this part of you that wanted to ask her out, like on a date, in public, not restricted to the four walls of your apartment. You could hardly count takeaways with a drama queued as a ‘date.’

You weren’t even sure if whatever was going on was something serious or something just for fun. With the amount of time you spent with her, the more it felt serious.

-- --

“You’re going to the opening right?” Yuna asked as she walked through the door, exiting the restaurant, arms interlocked with Ryujin.

“It’s my brother’s second tattoo shop in Itaewon,” Ryujin answered, “And the tenth anniversary of his first one, of course I will.”

“It’ll be nice,” Yeji added next to you. “Oppa said there’s going to be a DJ too.”

You had just finished dinner, paid by you, which wasn't a big deal. You tended to pay for things when you were out with Ryujin and her friends. It sort of just happened when before you and Ryujin slept together, things would be split evenly among the group. They were surprised the first time, shocked even, that you paid without them knowing. They wanted to give you their share, but you brushed them off, giving an excuse that they were still in school and their money should be saved. The girls began talking about their semester starting in a few weeks.

You stayed back a little, opting for a quick nicotine fix before you spend the rest of your evening with Ryujin. She wanted to finish the drama you had been watching together. You didn’t want to hover, or have the smoke in their faces.

You noticed Ryujin turned her head slightly backward, ensuring you were still behind them. You held up the vape pen she forced you to buy because she wasn’t the biggest fan of cigarettes. You never thought you’d give them up, the short-lived high wasn’t the same, but for her, you found yourself switching over.

(The smile on her face after she kissed you one night when she didn’t taste the bitterness of tobacco was a choice you didn’t mind doing.)

Ryujin rolled her eyes, falling back into the conversation as you took a long drag. You held the air, letting the poison sit in your body, before you blew the air out, the slight tilt of your head back as the smoke filled your vision. The rush didn’t have the same effect, but it was enough for you to relax your body.

You listened in on their discussion, something about the classes they were taking. Ryujin told you her schedule once she found out, saying she wouldn’t be at the shop as much with final year projects and such. She seemed a bit annoyed at that, but convinced you to pick her up when she needed it. It didn’t take much, but she promised she wouldn’t inconvenience you—she was never one to begin with.

You took another drag, tuning the chatter out, when Yuna mentioned something that caught your attention. It was a simple question about some boy named Haein? from what you could hear without being nosey, that she directed to Ryujin.

“Yuna-yah,” Ryujin lightly scolded, shaking her head, “I already told you. I’m not interested in him.”

“You went out with him twice, and from what Lia’s heard, you keep avoiding him and won’t answer any of his calls,” The information stung because you hadn’t realized this was happening. You knew Ryujin had a life outside of hanging out at her brother’s studio and spending nights with you, but you would have wanted to know. “Twice seems pretty interested.”

The vape pen was brought to your lips reflexively, breathing in deeply to tamper the sudden ache behind your ribcage. You were never a controlling person in a relationship, so you didn’t know what to do with this feeling. Something akin to jealousy, but closer to hurt.

You heard Yeji mumble Yuna not now as she glanced at you. You met her eyes, a sad pitying look that you shrugged. You needed to remember that nothing was established, nothing said you were together, but everything screamed differently.

“Oppa,” Yuna turned around, yanking her companion to face you in the middle of the street. “What do you think? Does it seem like unnie’s interested? You know her well enough.”

You tucked your vape pen into your pocket, glancing at Ryujin as you chose your words carefully. “I don’t think anything. She’s allowed to do what she wants,” Was what you came up with. You didn’t miss the way the woman in question tensed, and you weren’t sure if Yuna noticed. If she did, it wasn’t acknowledged.

“Oh come on,” Yuna rolled her eyes, and by the way her gaze rolled back to you, you were going to be challenged. “How would you feel if someone you went out a couple times with, and it all went well, kept dodging your calls?”

“I’d let it be,” You shrugged, indifferent to the hypothetical situation, “They have their own life. I’d be a little sad, but I can’t force them to want to spend time together.” You hoped that answer would suffice, tacking on a subtle dig to Ryujin.

“See, Yuna, now drop—”

The youngest cut in before Yeji could finish her sentence, “Ugh, boring. Where’s the chase? The back and forth? The pining?”

“I don’t have time for that,” You said bluntly, trying not to sound too harsh. You were starting to get irritated. “I’m generally upfront about how I feel and what I want when I’m with someone. If they just want to fuck, fine I’m in. If they want something more serious and I feel the same way, I tell them.”

“And what if it’s reversed?” The questions didn’t stop. All these hypotheticals that never directly translate into practice. “What if you want something more serious and they don’t feel the same way? What do you do then?”

You got the feeling there was an underlying agenda. It was like she was searching for an answer. It hit a little too close. You didn’t want to be the first to show your hand with Ryujin right there.

“Then it ends,” You said simply, reaching for your pocket. You desperately wanted

“That simple?” Yuna raised an eyebrow, even crossing her arms with Ryujin still wrapped around.

You had always been in tune with Ryujin’s emotions, and you saw her eyebrow twitch—a clear sign she was starting to get annoyed. “Unfortunately yeah,” Shrugging, “I’m not going to waste time with someone that doesn’t feel the same way if things are heading in that direction. Might as well save both of us the pain.”

Yuna dropped the topic, rolling her eyes at the honesty. It wasn’t like you could be anything else. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie or lead someone on if the intentions weren’t the same. She pulled Ryujin to continue walking while Yeji shot you another sympathetic smile, mouthing sorry before following after.

It left you alone, frozen, at these feelings you inadvertently developed. It was naive to think otherwise since you spent a lot of time with her these days, especially intimately. It hit you like a brick wall, crashing down on you as you couldn’t fathom the idea that she felt the same.

You couldn’t dwell on it too much—not the time nor place—because Ryujin’s voice called your name, that soft, affectionate way she did when you laid underneath the covers, wrapped around each other. You looked up, seeing her eyebrows furrowed. You gave a lazy smile, though she didn’t look like she believed you.

You weren’t even sure you believed yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin asked quietly as she pulled away, seated on your lap with your back pressed against the headboard.

“Nothing.” You averted your eyes to anywhere else, but it was hard with her in front of you. You felt her gaze, but avoided it. The floor seemed a lot more interesting anyways.

“Was it because of what Yuna said?” She didn’t believe it was nothing. “Don’t take her seriously. She’s just nosey, always in my business about who I’m dating or not.”

You hated yourself for the next words that came out, “But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Dating anyone,” You mumbled, briefly meeting her eyes.

“I mean no?” That answer did nothing but grow the black hole in your stomach. “Not officially at least. A few dates here and there, but nothing that I see serious.”

You appreciated her honesty. She seemed so casual about it—sleeping with you while going on dates. The situation itself was a conundrum because what did that mean for you? Were you just someone she slept with? Were you keeping her away from finding the one? Were you more than just a fuck?

You had to know, “So who am I then?”

Ryujin tilted her head, curiously staring at your face. You felt vulnerable, unsure of what your expression portrayed, because you were sure she figured it out.

“What do you mean?” She said it slowly, carefully, as if whatever you say next could alter the course of your relationship.

You couldn’t believe you had to spell it out for her. “Like, what does that mean? You go off on dates with all these guys, yet you come to me after? Am I just a fuck?” It borderlined on desperation, the words falling out. “Am I someone you want to date?”

You watched as she swung her leg over, moving to sit next to you. You shook your head, already knowing where this conversation was going.

“I like spending time with you.”

“But being at the shop and then falling into bed with me, that’s how you spend time with me.” A pang shot through your chest. It ached enough for you to scratch over your shirt, self-soothing the pain to go away. “You don’t want to do anything else?”

“Did you?” This whole answering a question with a question was about to push you off the edge. “I’m being serious. Did you? I came into this thinking you just wanted to get your dick wet since you had Rosie.” You heard the disdain at the mention of your previous lover. “I didn’t think you wanted more than that.”

“I didn’t either,” You confessed, sighing dejectedly. “It’s crazy, and a fucking cliche of all things, to develop feelings like this. It’s okay. No hard feelings.”

“Wait—” You didn’t want to hear anymore, so you stood up, reaching for the shirt that was thrown on the ground. Your heart dropped, aching, scratching at your rib cage as your chest tightened. You quickly slipped it on. “You like me?”

You forced a smile, “I do, and it’s okay that you never thought of this like that. It is, it really is. I just don’t think I could keep doing it.”

You gathered the rest of your things while Ryujin called out your name, telling you to don’t go. You were glad her apartment was vacant. With Lia visiting family in Canada, she offered her place since you spent most of the time at yours.

You were halfway out the door when you turned around to Ryujin, still in the same position. It broke your heart to leave, but you had no other choice.

Clean break right?

Should make things easier right?

“You definitely don’t deserve to call yourself someone to just get my dick wet,” The vulgarity had you grimacing, “Because I never thought of you as that. Not in the slightest.”

You left before Ryujin could respond, the steps heavier the closer you get to the front door. It went from zero to sixty, and it gnawed at you to stay.

That simple right?

You ate your earlier words because this was not a clean break. This did not make things easier. This was complicated in all the worst ways.

-- -- --

You send a message to your cousin, thanking him for his quick response on letting you stay with him in the states for a couple months. Lisa appears with Jennie in tow and drinks in hand as the party’s in full swing.

“Who are you texting?” Lisa asks, placing your drink on the table as they take their seats across from you.

“My cousin,” You answer, distracted with the flurry of messages he sends. He’s excited because he’ll finally have someone to go out with, needing a wingman since his friends were—in his words—boring.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to be gone for almost a year,” Lisa takes a sip from her glass. “How’d Ryuseong take it?”

Your mentor took the news as better than you hoped. He was surprised, but expected it. You couldn’t help but think he knew that you had been sleeping with his sister for the past few months. He wouldn’t say anything when she was around you, but he’d raise an eyebrow whenever she got a little closer than friendly.

You hastily decided a couple days after ‘ending’ your arrangement with Ryujin that you’d travel a bit while tattooing at places that would take you. A couple cities in the states were planned along with Tokyo and Melbourne. You were still waiting to hear back from your friend in London while close to finalizing spending a month or so in Paris.

It would be good for you, as Ryuseong said once you told him your plans. He even helped put you in contact with some of his connections to let you work with them for a nominal fee. He reassured you that you’d always have a place to work whenever you were in the country, half-joking that you’d be managing the shops when you returned for good.

“Good. He’s happy for me, I think,” You scratch your head. “Bummed that I won’t be around, but he gets it. He suggested doing this a while ago.”

“But why now?” Jennie asks curiously. Her girlfriend gently elbows her, shooting her a warning look. “What? I don’t know enough about his life.”

“It’s fine,” You wave Lisa off. “Just some things happened that made me rethink what I want.”

Jennie glances behind you, “Like with a girl?” You’re about to turn around when her hand reaches out, shaking her head, “Just an observation because there’s been a girl looking at you since you got here.”

“It’s complicated,” You mumble, fingers curling around the glass.

“Well,” Jennie smirks, “It’s about to get more complicated.”

“What do you—” The question dies on your lips before Jennie stands abruptly, squealing at whoever just appeared.

“Chaeng!”

Oh.

Here we fucking go.

You push the door open, breathing in the fresh air since the venue was suffocating with the amount of people that showed up. It was a bigger turnout than you expected, but Ryuseong knew a lot of people.

You pat your pockets as you search for the cigarette package. You relapsed into the original vice since Ryujin was no longer in the picture. You excused yourself from the debate Rosie and Lisa were having over the best restaurant for tteokbokki takeaway, earning a glare from the latter because she wanted you to quit, but oh well.

You pull the lighter out, sticking the cigarette in between your lips. There isn’t much foot traffic so you opt for a short walk to the alley around the corner.

You inhale, catching the flame as the nicotine rush flows through your veins. You’ve been drinking, so it’s definitely a nice sensation, leaving you lightheaded as you gain your footing.

Ryuseong gave a small speech, thanking everyone for showing up and their support over the years. He even announced your small departure, wishing you good luck that garnered a small applause from the crowd. You politely bowed, waving to those nearby, while Lisa ruffled your hair.

It has overall been a nice night.

You have no complaints. You have a couple days left in Seoul, and this is probably the last time you’ll see most of your friends. Lisa tentatively—forcefully—planned a dinner that you had no choice to go to. Rosie gave you a playful smile when she saw you, even kissing you briefly on the cheek. You were alone with her for a moment while the couple went to get more drinks, and she teased you for ghosting her, but ultimately understood once you explained the situation.

“Water under the bridge, yeah?” Rosie smiled behind her martini glass, “No worries. We’re fine.”

Though, when you told her that things ended, she rolled her eyes. “She has to have some feelings for you, and maybe she’s too naive to realize it, but I don’t know of any girl that has ever went out on dates and then fucked the same guy after them for there to be no feelings.”

You didn’t want to comment on that, but Rosie asked if the girl was here. She was always perceptive, sensing your hesitation before answering. She dramatically rolled her eyes again at the exact moment Lisa and Jennie returned. They asked what you were talking about, and Lisa stupidly said it was Ryujin.

“She looks like she wants to rip my head off,” Rosie chuckled, tilting her head in what you assumed was Ryujin’s general location. “If you want to have fun tonight, let me know. It could be one last hurrah before you leave.”

You smile to yourself as you take another drag, thinking about Rosie’s proposal. You didn’t have anything to lose, so you are highly considering it. You always had fun with her, so why not? There’s nothing holding you back.

At least, that is, until you hear a heated conversation a few meters down the alley.

Naturally, you look up.

You hadn’t actually crossed paths with Ryujin this whole evening. Whether it was her avoiding you or you subconsciously steering clear, you only saw her from afar.

You would be able to recognize her a mile away and here she is with some boy in her face, towering over her. You let out a sigh, shaking your head. You don’t need to get involved because Ryujin has always been capable of taking care of herself. Though for your peace of mind, you walk closer to where they are.

“Is everything alright?” Your voice breaks whatever tension as his head snaps in your direction, letting the cigarette rest in between your lips.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” He answers, pulling back slightly as his other hand drops. The question wasn’t directed towards him as you watch Ryujin stand up straight. She doesn’t say anything, which she doesn’t need to. “Let’s go Ryujin.”

As Ryujin starts to walk toward you, the boy grabs her wrist, jerking her body backwards. You wait again, watching it unfold before you have to step in. Because you will, something Ryujin is very aware of.

“Let go,” She says quietly, warningly, more for the boy’s sake. He doesn’t, stupidly, as his grip tightens, causing her to wince. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

Within seconds, you’re in between them, hand chopping through as you stand in front of Ryujin.

“She said let go.” You say quietly, calm and composed.

“Who the hell are you?” The boy spits back, stepping into your space, even bumping his shoulder against your chest.

“Haein,” Ryujin hisses, hoping he gets the message. She knows your temper, and she knows how protective you are, especially when it involves her. “Just let go.”

This must be the boy Yuna was going on about that night. Interesting. He didn’t seem like Ryujin’s type, but what did you know when it came to her ‘type.’

“Seriously, listen to her,” The cigarette falls to the ground.

“I’m not going to take orders from some stranger,” Haein says sharply, yanking Ryujin forward. He must have no spatial awareness because you’re still in between them and the small yelp she lets out has you reaching for his arm. “What the—”

Your other hand swings clear across his face as he collapses to the ground. You might’ve heard the sound of bone cracking, but you didn’t care. “Told you,” You mutter, tapping his stomach with your foot as he flinches.

“Oppa,” Ryujin sighs, shaking her head. “I can take care of myself.”

You barely hear her, crouching down to his level, “For what it’s worth, every time she went out with you, she spent the night with me.” You’re still drunk, and the words come out without much thought. It’s rubbing salt in the wound, but at this rate, you don’t care.

“Oppa!” Ryujin grabs you by your jacket collar, pulling you up with enough force that you stumble, “What the fuck?”

You shake her off, straightening your clothes out, “What? Is it not true? You’re welcome by the way,” You turn to walk away, but her hand encloses over your wrist. “Ryujin,” You deadpan when you face her.

“You’re such a fucking ass,” Ryujin steps closer, her body pressed against yours. “Why would you even say that?” She gestures to Haein, who’s still on the ground, groaning in pain.

“For fun,” You reply sarcastically, smirking as you shake her hand off. “Have a great night.”

This time, Ryujin lets you go. You’re pissed off, and it’s a recipe for disaster if you stay any longer. Things are still fresh. You’re nursing a heartache and leaving in less than 48 hours, so probably in both your best interests, it’s not worth it to fight or argue or get into things.

Ryujin did not share that same thought process because you feel two smaller hands on your back, pushing you off balance. Your reflexes are impaired, but you’re fast enough to catch yourself from falling flat on your face.

“Ryujin, what the fuck,” You had never turned around so fast. Your relationship, or whatever the fuck it was, had never been physical, explosive, and the ironic part was that this turned you on. “What’s your problem?” You growl, eyes narrowing.

She never backed down from a challenge, hearing the countless, mindless arguments she would have with her friends over game rules and the sarcastic remarks she’d throw at Ryuseong whenever he did something.

You get pushed again, but it doesn’t do much. You remain stable, unmoving as the two hands on your chest curl into fists, her head dropping.

“You don’t get to fucking,” Hands hitting hard into your chest after each word, “Throw what we did together in someone else’s face.” The power of the punches weakens at the end. She almost seems defeated.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, “And what did we do, Jin-yah? We fucked more than enough times, but that’s all it was, right?” You’re being petty, borderline spiteful, with the venom you were spewing out.

It’s not a surprise when Ryujin’s hand comes clear across your face because it was very much deserved, but that doesn't mean it didn’t hurt. Your cheek stung from the force, eyes snapping to her heated glare.

“Fuck you.”

“Time and place, jagiya.” You’re definitely an asshole for using the name you’d call her when it was just you two, a name she’d shyly blush to. “I’m leaving in a couple days, so why not send me off with a bang?”

It’s a taunt, a fib, a put your money where your mouth is kind of situation. You might be riled up, the slightest bit horny too, but you don’t think she’ll actually go through it.

If it wasn’t dark in the alley, you would’ve seen the wheels turning, the pros and cons weighing in her mind, seriously considering it. You could’ve put a stop to it right then and there, walking away from the argument, walking away from her until whenever you’d see her next.

But you were drunk, too eager to be in her presence, too starved that you’d let her abuse you just to feel her touch, that you missed all of that completely.

Ryujin calls your bluff, “Fine. I live nearby, and Lia’s sleeping over Yeji’s tonight.”

What?

You watch her face form into a cheshire grin. You could only imagine the expression you have because she leans away, stepping out of the space, tilting her head.

“Come on, yeobo.” Ryujin tosses the name she used for you, “I’ll make it worth your while,” She takes a slow step backwards, running a hand through her hair.

You gulp, nodding like the fool that you were whenever it came to Ryujin. She could easily control you, and you knew that. Call it being a pushover, but you had a soft spot for her. A part that was an advantage to you both, especially when it came to matters of intimacy.

You start to walk, hands reaching for her when you get closer. You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her body in. Your face nuzzles into her hair, whispering, “Are you sure?”

Ryujin chuckles before answering yes because she explicitly states she needs to fuck the frustration you’ve caused her in the past ten minutes.

“Let’s go,” She stands on her tippy toes, lips brushing against your jaw.

Your cheeks heat up at the contact, a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Ryujin’s apartment was generally off limits, coming over less than a handful of times. Lia tended to stay home so coming over wasn’t an option, especially with how loud you both would get. It was more of a respect thing. Maybe a privacy thing too, but that was between you and Ryujin.

You couldn’t look around too much because Ryujin was on you once the door shut. She (literally) jumped on you, wrapping her legs around your waist, mouth landing perfectly on yours as she kissed you with a fervor you never experienced. It caught you off guard, knocking you off balance that you had to steady yourself against the wall. Something might have fallen off the entryway table, but neither of you paid attention to it as she shrugged your jacket off.

Leading you to your knees digging into the hardwood with your head in between her legs. You don’t know how long it’s been, but your tongue has been moving which way and every way thoroughly between her lower lips without any release. She’s getting impatient, based on the way her hips jolt with your nose brushing against her clit.

“Answer the question,” You murmur against her pussy, chin slick with wetness as you stare up at her. With her head thrown back, she doesn’t see you prompting you to continue with your task.

You’re being mean, not letting her cum until she answers a curious question. Though, she’s not being forthcoming either on giving an answer so it seems fair to put her through tortuous strokes of your tongue.

“What fucking question?” Ryujin snaps, hips rolling forward as you pull away. “Get back there.”

“You know,” You blow gently at her clit as her body shivers, hands bunching the bedsheet, “If you slept with what’s his face.”

“None of your fucking business,” She says weakly as you stick your tongue in between her folds. “Why do you care if I did?” She manages to get out, panting as you gently bite an outer lip.

“Just wanted to know if he was able to make you this wet,” You answer simply, tongue trailing lower to an untouched area—at least by you specifically.

“What’re you even—oh!” Ryujin gasps once your tongue invades the puckered hole, tensing as you dip in. “I’ve never—fuck.”

You lean back, and you’re met with a heated gaze from the woman sprawled out on her bed. You smirk, even licking your lips as she extends a leg to put you back where you belong.

“God can you just fuck me already?” Ryujin snaps, eyes glaring as you don’t budge.

“Answer the fucking question,” You say while unbuckling your belt. You spring out of your pants, immediately seeing the tent formed from your boxer briefs.

“No he didn’t make me this wet,” Her hands reach for the waistband, shoving your underwear down. You let out a groan, hips moving forward, as her fingers wrap around your cock. “He made me cum though.”

You roll your eyes, withdrawing yourself away from Ryujin. She lets out a small whine. “Go fuck him then.”

It’s an empty threat. A bluff. You and her know that at the end of the night it’ll be you doing all the things he did and more. You want her, and well, she wants you. That hasn’t changed even if it has been a few weeks. There hasn’t been anyone since either on your end. Sure you could say you were jealous, but she’s with you right now.

Not him.

There’s a sick part of you that wants to make her work for it, but you’re impatient, eager, to remind her of the time spent together. This could very much be the last time, which tugs at your heart, but you might as well make it worth it.

You’re about to lose your mind anyways.

Though, Ryujin seems like she’s just about there since you’d be teasing her for a while, edging her to the breaking point that she automatically turns over on her stomach, raising her hips that has your mouth watering.

“Baby,” She shakes her hips side-to-side, arching her back as she presents herself more, “You know he could never fuck me the way you do.”

Without thinking, you swat your hand down, an easy flick of the wrist, palm connecting to skin that resulted in a resonating sound through the room. Ryujin moans, hips rolling backward as you withdraw your arm.

“How do I know that?” You ask absentmindedly, watching as she attempts to grind herself on you. You rest your hand on her lower back, halting any movement. Bending forward as your other hand pushes your pants to drop around your ankles, you get close enough that her head drops back. “Prove it,” You murmur, gently nipping at her ear.

Ryujin’s hand snakes between your bodies, and when her fingers wrap around you once again, you don’t fight it. She guides your length to her entrance. Your body shivers once the tip makes contact, magnifying how wet she is.

“You’re dripping,” You grunt, mesmerized by the way she slides your cock in between her folds.

“For you,” Ryujin moans when she slides backwards to take you in, “Only for you.”

You’re moaning with her, watching, feeling the initial tightness engulf part of your cock. It’s a sensory overload that your hips slightly thrust to get deeper. It’s a lot to take in after not being with her like this.

And fuck you missed her.

You tell her so, head falling backwards as she continues to take you in. She sucks in a breath at the confession. Your hands find her hips, gripping tightly as you pull her along your cock. She’s practically keening at the stretch while you’re holding everything in to not thrust all the way in.

“Ryujin, slow down,” You say through gritted teeth, air leaving your lungs as she takes you without giving you a moment to breathe. “Baby.”

“Please,” Ryujin begs, shaking her hips as you feel yourself sink deeper into her. “Fuck me, I missed you.”

It’s all too overwhelming. The reciprocated confession. The warmth of her pussy wrapped around you has you seeing stars. Adding on how tight and wet she is, you’re about to bust.

“Tell me again,” You slowly withdraw your hips, peeking at how soaked you are, her slick dripping down your thighs.

“I missed you.”

And you thrust back in, earning a filthy moan escaping her lips. Whatever sense of control you had snapped, the want—the sudden need—to make up for lost time.

You choose long and deep strokes, ensuring you’re hitting every single nerve inside her body. You keep a steady tempo, letting the moans and pants that fall from her guide you. You can’t help but sound off with her, groaning and grunting as she moves with you.

It’s an easy rhythm to fall back into, especially with how familiar you are with her body. You know every spot, inside and out, that could have her lose her mind.

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” Ryujin lulls her head back, resting against your shoulder.

The change in position has your lips against her ear, teeth biting and nearly snarling as you keep the consistent pace. The sound of your skin clapping echoes throughout her room that you pray there’s some kind of proofing. At least to muffle her voice because your ears are ringing.

You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth, so swept up in the moment, so swept up in her, that you tell her how much you’ve missed feeling her pussy around you, how she’s taking you so well, how she’s going to make you release if she kept squeezing your cock like a vice.

“Do it.”

That wasn’t the response you expected.

Not by a long shot.

Every time you and Ryujin had sex, you’d ask where she wanted it. Half the time, it would be in her mouth. The other half would be over her body because she thought it was hot, and well, you agreed. You entertained the idea of marking her as yours, but there was one way you hadn’t.

You’ve come inside women before. It was usually your long-term girlfriends, and that one-off who swore they were safe. No child has appeared at your door yet, so there’s that. With Ryujin, you never asked—it wasn’t your place to. You wouldn’t assume so because you weren’t dating. There was that possessive side of you that wanted to, but you were being selfish.

So this was new.

“Wh-what?” You stutter, hips ceasing all movement. Ryujin doesn’t like that, whining, squirming with your cock inside her. She gasps as you hit spots you hadn’t before. There’s a delicious friction of her walls hugging, pulsing, around you. “Jin-yah, whoa, slow down. I’m going to cum if you keep moving like that.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Ryujin moans loudly at one particular spot. Her body moves on its own accord for your cock to keep brushing against it.

“No.” You’re trying to say something, but Ryujin feels so good that you resume your movement, meeting her in perfect sync. Her hips snap downward, adding a motion you aren’t expecting, and it has you seeing stars when her clit brushes against you. The coil tightens in your lower abdomen, a tell-tale sign that you’re really close. “Jagiya,” You hardly recognize your own voice. “I don’t know if–fuck,” She does a nasty move that sucks the breath from your lungs, “Where do you want it?”

You wanted to hear it again. You needed to hear it again, to make sure you weren’t imagining it.

“Inside,” Ryujin commands through a moan, as you continue to pound into her. Her breathing staccatos with each thrust as she repeated the word over and over, begging you because she wants the feeling of you painting her walls. After one particularly hard thrust, her body violently shakes, convulsing as her orgasm washes over, pussy pulsating and tightening over your cock like never before, that a sentence slips from her mouth, “Be the first to cum inside me.”

Ryujin hits the nail on the coffin as you lose control over your body, hips jackhammering into her as the coil in your stomach snaps, back seizing erratically as hot, thick white ropes flood her without warning.

“Oh, oh that feels–fuck.” Ryujin’s too cockdrunk to finish a sentence, and you’re too pussydrunk to even hear her. You don’t know what’s going on down there, but you swear her pussy’s milking you for all you have, walls massaging your cock that you fall forward, taking her with you. You snap your hips one, two, three, four times, before another orgasm releases into her.

“Mine,” You snarl into her ear, lightly humping into her to make sure every part of her is filled. You repeat the word like a mantra and she nods, mumbling a blissed out yours.

The climax eventually subsides, but your positions haven’t changed. You gently grind, garnering soft, weak moans from the woman beneath you. You don’t want to pull out, but the overstimulation is creeping in. Reluctantly, you do so, slowly withdrawing your cock to not hurt her. You grin at the small whine she lets out, but you soothe her with a kiss behind the ear.

You push yourself up to inspect the mess you made, and your cock twitches at the white liquid dripping from her folds. You stare for a second too long because an airy chuckle sounds off before Ryujin’s small fingers slide underneath, slipping in between the lower lips, pushing what’s fallen out back in.

“Baby.” It comes out as a warning, a borderline plea, that she stops, giggling that dispels the wave of lust from taking over. You roll your eyes, rolling off her body and laying next to her.

Ryujin turns to face you, slotting a leg in between yours, as she scoots closer. You take her hands in yours, bringing them to your chest. She speaks first, “That was…an experience.”

“A good one?” You ask softly, eyes meeting hers.

“Definitely.” Ryujin sighs dreamily, eyes closing before she drops her head slightly.

“Am I really the only person to ever do that?” You watch her eyes open again, an indiscernible look that drops before you realize the answer.

Ryujin nods shyly, biting her lip, “We’re safe, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You shake your head, slightly offended that’s what she first assumed. She must’ve seen your expression change. “Did you not want to?”

You shake your head again. “No, I did,” Sighing, “It’s just we’ve never done that. And you’ve never done that. I don’t want to take something like that from you. It’s…intimate.” That’s the only word that comes to mind.

“Who said I didn’t want that with you?”

“Well, we aren’t a couple,” You mumble before glancing away. Pushing on with a little more confidence, “You made it clear we weren’t.” It sounded pathetic.

“Did you want to be?” Her questions are starting to kill your mood. You let go of her hands, sitting up abruptly. “Stop,” Her hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you back before you could leave (again.) “I’m being serious. I was serious.”

“Ryujin,” You deadpan, head falling on the pillow as you stare at the ceiling. “Yes, I did. I still do,” You cover your face in embarrassment.

“Can you look at me?” Ryujin tries to remove your arms so she could see your face. She’s successful in that aspect, but you turn away. “You’re acting like a child.”

“So,” You pout, avoiding her gaze.

“You’re a dumb dumb,” Ryujin says fondly, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you meant it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You ask for clarification because ‘hopes up’ for what exactly. Ryujin looks away this time, taking a breath before telling you she’s always had a crush on you. She explains it likely developed within the first year of meeting you. Ryuseong had noticed, teasing her at home because that’s what older brothers do. She vehemently denied any feelings, but when you brought Nayeon around, she realized it wasn’t a crush.

“You’re older than me, and at that point, I didn’t know how to get you to see me more than Ryuseong’s little sister.” You hear the bitterness in her voice.

“You’ve always been Ryujin to me,” You reassure sweetly, sliding your arm under to pull her into you. You peck the side of her head. “You know I’ve always looked out for you.”

“But I wanted you to look at me. The way you looked at Nayeon-unnie,” Ryujin buries her face into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve been for the past few months,” You whisper, tilting her head gently with two fingers on her chin. Bringing your lips down to hers, mumbling I mean it.

“You’re leaving.” She pulls away, flicking your nose.

“For almost a year.”

“Admit it’s because of me.”

“It’s because of you.” You comply because she’s most of the reason why in the first place.

“I’m claiming you as mine.”

“We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“Then when you get back, you take me out on a date.”

“Isn’t that a little backwards to go on a date after having sex?”

“You came inside me.”

“I’ve never been conventional,” You sweep her body underneath yours, her legs easily spreading.

“I feel it leaking,” Ryujin murmurs as she tilts her head back.

“That’s hot,” Your voice shakes at the memory of cumming inside of her a few minutes ago, body reacting tenfold that you’re ready to go again. “Can I do it again?”

“Because I’m yours?” Her tongue slips in between your lips, swallowing the moan.

“Mine.”

-- --

After eleven months, you’re finally back in Seoul.

A lot happened that you were grateful for the experience. You met a lot of people while most importantly, perfecting your craft. You weren’t expecting to make a lot, but you made more than enough to book an earlier flight.

You planned to return at the end of February, but you wanted to surprise Ryujin for her graduation. She was disappointed you wouldn’t be there, but was excited for your arrival. Little did she know, you’d be meeting her right after the ceremony. Thanks to the help from Yeji and Lia.

You and Ryujin agreed you liked each other, wanting to be a couple, but kept things open since you would be thousands of miles away. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold for you, nor did she want you to do that either. She gave you clear instructions to do whatever you wanted with whoever you wanted as long as you told her about it.

Well, nothing happened with anyone. Sure, you went out with people and there was some interest from women—even men, but you felt too strongly for Ryujin to give them any attention. You were loyal to a fault, and no one could change your mind. There were some that definitely tried.

You had just enough time to drop off your luggage at your parents’ house, greeting them quickly before your mother could yell at you for looking too thin. Ryuseong texted you where they’d be and that they’d save you a seat.

You’re slightly late.

You didn’t want to show up with a motorcycle helmet, so you opted for public transportation. You didn’t account for the train delay, which gave you little time to mingle once you met with Ryuseong and the parents.

“Hi,” You politely bow, feet shuffling over the other attendees as you plop yourself on the empty seat next to Ryuseong. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to take my bike.”

Ryuseong chuckles, shaking his head as he dismisses your apology. He mentions that he’s glad you’re back before the lights dim. You couldn’t exactly get into things, but you would later on.

The ceremony goes off without a hitch. It was quicker than you expected. Ryuseong pointed in the general direction of where Ryujin was, but you were far from her to really see her. She might’ve turned in your area a few times throughout, but you couldn’t be sure she saw you.

You hoped she didn’t. You still wanted to surprise her.

Before you know it, it’s finished and you’re following Ryuseong out of the row to meet Ryujin. He jerks his elbow in your side as you walk, head tilting to the group of girls by you. You glance at them, which they quickly look away, one even giggles at the other.

“Dude stop,” You mutter, rolling your eyes. “I’m not interested.”

“Just making you aware,” Ryuseong comments, “Ryujin’s not going to like the attention you’re getting.” You do a once over of your outfit choice, and there’s nothing that really calls for the attention of others. A black blazer, black shirt, and black slacks—it wasn’t anything outrageous. “You’re a chump.” He jokes, then starts to laugh when he sees you pout.

You’re about to say something sarcastic when you’re nearly tackled by someone from the side. There’s a familiar airy giggle that has you roll your eyes again.

“Oppa!” Yuna’s voice rings through your ears as you keep your balance. “Unnie didn’t say you were going to be here.”

“Yuna,” You say flatly, untangling her limbs off your body. She huffs, crossing her arms as two other familiar faces appear. “Hi Yeji, Lia,” You bow, earning a smile.

You fall into an easy conversation, telling them a bit about your time away with the promise of more details later over dinner. There was a lot to catch up on, and you didn’t want to take the limelight away from Ryujin.

You don’t know how much time goes by, but there’s a tap on your shoulder that has you turning around.

Your heart nearly stops.

Ryujin still is as beautiful as you remember, if not more.

You exchanged hundreds of messages with photos, and some videos that were for your eyes only. So seeing her for the first time in almost a year has you swooning.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Ryujin questions, gaze going up and down before meeting yours.

“Uh? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” The self-consciousness was creeping in.

“Well,” She crosses her arms over her chest, “For one, you look like an actor, or an idol.”

(Her friends nod in agreement in your periphery.)

“I can’t stop that? This is how I look.”

“And two, all the girls within a ten meter radius are staring at you,” She raises an eyebrow, “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

You can’t help the corner of your lips from curling up. Not even a hello, but you didn’t mind it. She was jealous, and you felt like feeding the fire. You’ll beg for forgiveness later.

“Is it working?” You grin as she scoffs. “Congratulations by the way.”

And just like that, the facade breaks.

Ryujin wraps her arms around you, instinctively pulling you into her. You almost hesitate because her parents are right behind her, but you don’t care.

You missed her.

“You’re going to regret that,” Ryujin mumbles against your chest.

You kiss her sweetly on the top of her head, smiling, “Worth it.”

“I want to do something once we’re done with my family,” Ryujin says suddenly, head tilting up with a mirthful gleam in her eyes.

“What?” You wanted to kiss her, but you had to draw the line somewhere with physical displays of affection with the current audience.

“Can you give me a tattoo?”

“Uh?” You raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t mentioned a tattoo in months, and you completely forgot she wanted one.

“Somewhere hidden, like where only a certain someone could see.”

“Oh? Like where?” You grin, eyes trailing down her body.

“Maybe my hip?” Ryujin offers and the idea of her body permanently marked by you sends your mind in a tailspin. She stands on her tiptoes, lips grazing your ear, before whispering, “As a reminder.”

“For…?” You trail off, gulping as a slim finger traces down your chest.

“When you fuck me,” Tactfully adding, “I’m still yours.”

Oh.

-- -- --

#itzy smut #itzy ryujin #itzy shin ryujin #ryujin smut #shin ryujin smut #shin ryujin

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va1entinesg4l · 8 months ago

Text

you’re my fucking star

pairing: charles leclerc x model!reader

summary: what happens when Charles meets his celebrity crush?

warning: tiny bit of fluff, f! receiving, slight breeding kink

Charles always had his eye on you. Even during his teenage years, watching you grow up to be a model. In interviews, he’s mentioned having a crush on you, how he’d wish to meet you. He’s been to a few shows to watch you, you were absolutely stunning. He’s even bought a few magazines that has you on the cover.

He was staring again, a Nova Cora crêpe satin dress made by Vivienne Westwood hugging your curves perfectly, your hair flowing down your shoulders, your smile lighting the room up. He takes notice of every single detail about you.

The party was at the Mclaren driver’s house and you were invited. Lando and you had been childhood best friends and he always invited you to watch his races which to everyone’s surprise, they figured you were both dating which made Charles’s blood boil.

“You alright, mate?” Charles snaps out of his trance when he heard Carlos’s voice, turning around to see him handing a glass of champagne.

“M’ fine.” Charles grumps as he downs his champagne, keeping his sharp gaze on you when Lando comes from behind, placing a palm on your back.

Carlos shrugs at his grumpiness before heading off for another glass of champagne. Charles was left in his thoughts, wondering if he should make a move.

You could feel Charles’s gaze burning a hole through you, little did he know. Lando knew that he had a thing for you but he never says anything about it. You excuse yourself from the conversation as you head to the restroom and Charles took that opportunity to follow you.

Your heart slightly jumps when you see Charles leaning against the wall, straightening his back when he sees you come out of the bathroom.

He clears his throat, “Sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. I was just-”

“Following me?”

Charles’s cheek burn with embarrassment, quickly denying the fact that he was following and watching you. You smile at his expression, ‘cute’ you thought.

“I just need to use to restroom as well.” What a shit lie, Charles. He mentally curses in French, making you giggle. “At the women’s bathroom?”

“N-No, I um. I wanted to ask if you’d join me for dinner tomorrow night.” Charles was nervous, it might seem a little rushed, considering he followed you to the bathroom just to ask you out, he could’ve waited till the night ended but he didn’t.

Your heart flutters in surprise and so did your answer.

“I’d love to, Charles.” Charles couldn’t help but let out a sheepish smile, his heart feeling giddy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” He smiles before you give him a nod, walking back to the crowd as he watches the way your body moves.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It was the night you were having dinner with Charles. You liked Charles, more than you expected. Those sneaky glances he gave when he thought you wouldn’t notice, those nice gestures he made whenever he tried to impress you.

You felt the same way he did, ever since he made his debut in formula 2. The first time you actually met him was when Lando won his first podium, everyone was rushing to take pictures of him, bumping into each other when you bumped into Charles, a digital camera of yours that you dearly loved slipping from your hands.

It broke and Charles couldn’t help but feel bad. You shrugged it off saying it was fine but Charles insisted on buying a new one for you, which he did.

He left it for you in the Mclaren garage, a small apology note that wrote,

‘sorry for breaking your camera, hope this one fills new memories, C.L.’

Reading that note instantly made you fell for him. You never told anyone, not even Lando.

You arrive at the restaurant Charles insisted on going, walking inside as you glance around to look for him. There he was.

The sight of him wearing a suit with those glasses made your clit throb, you kept a straight face before walking over to him. He sees you and his smile beams, he gets up from his seat, pulling your chair out for you to sit.

You smile, giving him a small thanks as he sits down as well.

“tu es magnifique..” you look beautiful. He mutters, his gaze taking every inch of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

“tu es beau toi-même.” you look handsome yourself. Charles stops, looking at you in surprise. He didn’t expect you to speak French. “You speak French?” He grins.

You laugh softly with a nod, shrugging. “You could say that.”

Charles lets out another grin, the love of his life a gorgeous woman who spoke French as well, you have him on a tight leash.

This is going to be a long night.

You were glad dinner went well with Charles tonight. You both spoke about your dreams, your hobbies, your careers, anything to know about each other. You listened to him explain about his love for driving, how it’s because of his late father.

You were both on the way back to his apartment, the ride silent as the soft music plays through the radio.

Charles sneaks a glance when he notices the way you bit your lip, the way your thighs were clenched. Blood rushing straight to his cock. He keeps his attention to the road, his mind filled with the thoughts of fucking you.

He parked his car in the driveway, opening the car door for you as he leads you inside his apartment. It was comfy, there were pictures of him hung up on the wall. His trophies arranged nicely on the cabinet.

He watches the way your hips move and he swallows hard, trying his best not to bend you over the couch and fuck you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asks and you shake your head, “I’m alright, thanks.”

Your breathing becomes shaky when you face Charles, his body moving towards yours as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and you swore you felt his hard cock pressed against your clothed pussy.

“Charles..” you whisper, your breath hitting his.

“Hm?” his eyes find yours, his fingers sliding down your back, goosebumps starting to form on your skin. He’s wanted this for years, to touch you, to taste you.

“Fuck me, Charles.”

That’s all he wanted to hear. He lifts you up, your legs wrapped around his waist before he lays you down on the couch, pulling your legs apart before he starts kissing the insides of your thighs.

His nose nudges your clothed pussy before he rips your panties off, sucking on your clit.

You throw your head back, letting out pornographic moans as he continues to lick your pussy.

“So fucking sweet.” He murmurs, sucking harder which makes you clamp your thighs around his head but his hands keeps a firm grip on them to hold you down.

You were a whimpering mess, so close to coming. Charles then slides in two fingers and you moan, gripping his hair tighter before he groans. He could feel you clenching around his fingers and it only takes five seconds for you to cum when he whispers.

“Come for me, jolie fille.” pretty girl. And you do, your cum dripping down his fingers and he licks them clean, groaning at how sweet you taste. “So sweet, baby.”

Charles then undos his pants, letting it drop to the floor. His cock hard, the tip red and swollen before he slides inside of your slick, wet pussy. “Charles!” you gasp, shutting your eyes as he starts to fucks you.

“You’re so fucking tight, mon ange.” my angel. He pants out, his glasses fogging up made him look hotter and you lean in, smashing your lips against his, his tongue slipping in to taste you.

You both were close to coming, the sound of your skins slapping filled the room. Charles couldn’t take it anymore as he whimpers out.

“Cum for me, baby.” You let out a cry of pleasure, arching your back as you finally cum. His cum shooting inside of you, loading your pussy up.

He kisses your forehead gently before holding you in his arms, both your breaths heavy when he whispers.

“I think I’m in love.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

hope you guys enjoyed it!!

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #formula one

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cactus-cuddler · 3 months ago

Text

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 ✭ 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub! virgin female reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Plot: There is no specific plot. Bucky and the reader like tease and are both dangerously attracted to each other

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: explicit sex, use of nicknames as "good girl", "slut" and "whore". Daddy kink and dirty talk. I don't think there are any other warnings.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k (sorry)

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ Author's note: sorry for any mistakes that may be there, English is not my first language! And sorry if the scenes may be badly written, it's been a long time since I wrote a smut between a woman and a man.

I write this ff because today I turn 18 (Happy Birthday to me!!) and I want so sign it. From today I can interact with all the "minor DNI" posts!!

I don't care if you are minors, read it if you want <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

James Buchanan Barnes. The very mention of this name can make your heart race, recalling his powerful presence, his toned physique, and the intense gaze he fixes on you whenever your paths cross. Your thoughts often wander to him, an obsession that fills your mind in the quietest hours of the night.

Yet, despite the thoughts that consume you, you're still a virgin. You’ve never found someone you were willing to give your heart to, let alone something more intimate. You've had relationships, but each time, you’ve held back, refusing to let things go beyond harmless flirtation. The thought of being vulnerable like that has always kept you at a distance. But with him, it’s different. There’s something about Bucky that makes you reconsider everything.

Your relationship with Bucky is hard to define. Sometimes you get along well, but other times, you find yourself wishing he would just disappear. And then there are moments when you wish he’d stop arguing with you altogether, using his frustration in ways that words can’t express. Is that too much to ask?

You’re curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a blanket to ward off the winter chill. As you flip through the channels, trying to find something to watch, your phone buzzes with incoming messages. Seeing his name on the screen sends a pang through your chest.

Teasing him has always been your favorite game. You start a random movie, not really caring about the plot, as you wait for him to arrive. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine signals that you're in trouble now.

When the doorbell rings, you open it, quickly masking your excitement. He’s standing there in his pajamas, and you can’t help but giggle. His pants have a childish space motif, and the matching sweatshirt does nothing to diminish his appeal. You’re wrapped in a blanket, so you're not much better off in his eyes.

"Popcorn?" he asks, and you invite him in. As he sees the movie already playing, he reminds you of his earlier request. You shrug and sit on the couch, munching on the popcorn he brought.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says, taking the remote to choose something else to watch.

“Just the way you like them,” you reply with a smirk.

You and Bucky work together in the same company, nothing out of the ordinary. You handle the computers and accounting, while Bucky works with metal. His vibranium arm would be perfect for his job, but he rarely uses it. "Oops, I’m right-handed, I do it without thinking," he says when someone asks why he doesn’t use his more powerful arm. You’ve seen how he looks at women, and it stirs something within you—a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

You first started talking after you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt a few months ago. To make amends, you offered to clean it, using a trick you’d read in a 1950s magazine titled "How to Be the Perfect Housewife." Not that you’re aiming for that role; you detest the idea of being confined by outdated gender roles. Patriarchy is disgusting! You would never want to marry a man in your life who confines you to a house with four children, a dog, three cats and a cactus to take care of alone.

Your conversations started off innocent enough, but things took a turn when you began texting late into the night. You both started teasing each other, pushing boundaries just to see how far the other would go. It became a game, one where neither of you wanted to lose face, even as feelings began to creep in.

So, how did he end up at your place tonight? You’re not sure, and it worries you. He’s never been to your house before. Sure, he’s given you rides home after work, a habit that started after the coffee incident. It became a routine, all because you playfully challenged his chivalry. “You? A gentleman? Don’t make me laugh,” you had texted him one morning. That very day, he was waiting outside your building, opening the car door for you. "It doesn’t mean anything," you had said to him in thanks. But tonight feels different.

The movie he picks is just awful. It’s filled with scenes of sex without sense.

“Is this too much for you? Should I change it?” he asks each time, and you just shake your head. In your life you see, read and write stuff more scandalous.

“How boring, if done like this even sex becomes boring," Bucky complains about another sex scene with the missionary position.

“You talk big, but I bet you couldn’t do any better,” you say, challenging him, not realizing what you’ve just started.

“With just one touch, I could make you scream my name,” he says, his voice low and intense. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you’re not backing down.

“I’d like to see you try,” you whisper, the challenge clear in your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze lingering, but then he sighs and turns back to the movie. “I’m a gentleman,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

You feel a wave of frustration, mixed with a sense of longing that you can’t quite shake. You don’t want him to be a gentleman; you want him to see you as more. You’re a ruthless woman, you won’t give up easily. If you are not satisfied with him, well you will do it yourself. In front of his eyes.

You take off your blanket and lift your shirt up to your hips and pull your panties off throwing them on the floor. You lie down on your back and put your feet on his knees. You put two fingers in your mouth and suck them in front of him. ‘He provoked me’. You repeat yourself so you don’t feel guilty about what you’re about to do.

You do small circular movements on your clit and slowly start to sigh for the pleasure you are causing yourself.

“Bucky..." you say between moaning as you start to penetrate your little cunt with two fingers. Bucky is doing everything he can to hold himself back. His erection thills in his boxer asking to be released and enjoy for you and your warmth however he does not want to give up. It will not look but has solid moral principles and not taking your virginity is one of those.

“Bucky… please fuck me with your cock,” you say clenching your couch with fingers to hold back your spasms. This provocation has hit the mark, his erection is now painful and not releasing it could drive him crazy. Reach out to your face, sweat drops are playing on your forehead. He orders you to sit down and you perform. You are sitting one next to the other and you have your leg over his to allow him free access to your pussy.

"I won’t take your virginity," he announces by passing his thumb along your big lips. An unsatisfied grunt comes out of your lips, you want more. Much more than that.

“Why not?" you complain "I want you Bucky, I want to shout your name" add grumbling.

"It would be a nice show, believe me sweetheart but I can’t deprive you of your first time with someone you love," he says. In a flash all the previous excitement fades away as if in a spell. You close your legs and ask him to leave. "You can’t decide what’s right or wrong for me" you told him by pulling out your voice. He’s made his choice, and for tonight, that will have to be enough.

As he leaves, you find yourself wondering what it would take to bridge the gap between you. Because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want more from him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

The next morning, you wake up hoping that the night with Bucky was just a bad dream—a nightmare you could shake off with a shiver. But as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you realize that it was all too real. The memory comes rushing back: you, vulnerable and exposed, touching yourself in front of him, moaning his name, only to be met with rejection. Your cheeks flush with a mix of shame and frustration. How could I have let myself go like that?

But there’s another thought that creeps in, unbidden. Despite everything, a part of you finds it almost sweet that Bucky doesn’t want to take your virginity unless it’s something more than just lust. He wants you to save it for someone you truly love. But the truth is, you do want it. You want him. The image of his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your body, flashes through your mind, and you feel a pang of desire so intense it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve fantasized about him for so long—wondered if he could fulfill the dark, desperate needs you’ve kept buried. You’re sure you wouldn’t regret giving him your first time, so why should he?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me,’ you think suddenly, the possibility of hitting you like a bucket of cold water. ‘Maybe I’m just a game to him, someone he can tease and torment without ever really wanting.’ The thought is unbearable, twisting in your gut like a knife.

You force yourself out of bed, deciding that you won’t let these thoughts ruin your day. Before work, you brew a hot cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give you the energy you need to push through. You can’t face Bucky today—not after last night. Instead, you opt for your favorite mode of transport, the one so many dismiss as the “poor man’s commute.” But you’ve always found the train comforting, a place where you can disappear into your thoughts without the pressure of small talk or the need to keep up appearances.

The ride is uneventful, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing your nerves somewhat. When you arrive at your stop, your office is just a short walk away. You’re early—too early, really—so you take your time, letting your mind wander as you stroll. The morning air is crisp, and the world feels strangely peaceful. ‘Why can’t my mind be this calm?’ you wonder, but of course, it’s not that simple. Last night’s events linger, casting a shadow over everything.

Just as you’re about to step inside, your phone rings, the sound jolting you out of your thoughts. His name flashes on the screen, and your heart skips a beat. What does he want now?

"Y/N, come down now or we'll be late!" Bucky's voice snaps through the line, sharp with irritation. You can almost see the frown on his face, the way his brows would knit together. But with a calmness that surprises even you, you tell him you're already at the office, having taken the train.

"I hope you're joking," he growls, his voice low and husky, sending a familiar shiver down your spine. Even when he's angry, it's a voice that could melt you.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," you reply, hanging up before he can say more. The truth is, you didn't want to face him this morning, not after last night. The thought of seeing his cold blue eyes, remembering how they watched you with a mix of desire and restraint, makes your chest tighten.

You greet your colleagues warmly, slipping on your glasses as you sit at your desk, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of Bucky's gaze, the way his hand almost trembled before he pulled away from you, keeps playing on a loop.

Hours pass in a blur of work until lunchtime, when Bucky suddenly appears at your usual spot in the break room. The moment you see him, your heart skips a beat. His presence fills the space, commanding and intense. You watch as he approaches, your colleagues' chatter fading into the background.

"I need to talk to you, Y/N," he says, his voice a mix of urgency and something deeper-something almost vulnerable. His eyes, however, are still guarded, a wall you've never been able to fully break through.

Your colleagues exchange knowing glances, smirking, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Without a word, you follow Bucky out of the room, conscious of the curious eyes behind you.

He leads you to the women's bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he begins, but the words seem empty, as if even he doesn't believe them.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding now, and you don't know if it's from anger, confusion, or the mere proximity to him.

"For last night. I have no right to tell you who should take your virginity," he says, but you quickly cover his mouth with your hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Don't say that out loud!" you hiss, glancing around as if someone might be listening. The idea that anyone might hear about your inexperience makes you cringe.

His lips curl into a smirk beneath your hand, and he gently removes it, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of electricity through you. "Do you still want it?" he whispers, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice is dark, teasing, but there's something else there too-a hint of uncertainty, as if he's afraid of your answer.

Your breath catches as he presses his knee between your legs, his hands firm on your hips. God, why does he have to be so confusing? You need him, but his mixed signals are driving you insane.

"You have to understand, I don't want you to regret anything you do with me," he murmurs against your lips, finally adjusting his knee just where you need it. Your body responds instantly, a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

His words are laced with concern, but also with a promise of something darker. "Even though it may not seem like it, I really care about you," he continues, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your chest ache. You feel small under his gaze, like a puzzle he's trying to figure out. And yet, in this position, you're certain you could unravel completely in his hands.

"The day I fuck you, I want to hear words like 'I love you, Daddy' coming out of your mouth. I don't want it to be a simple one-night stand, okay?" he finishes, pulling back just as quickly as he came, leaving you breathless and reeling.

As the door closes behind him, you're left with the echo of his words, your thoughts spiraling. 'How can he have this much control over me?' you wonder, struggling to steady your breath. Your heart is racing, your body still humming with the desire he left behind. Until yesterday, you were convinced your relationship with Bucky was built on mutual dislike and a twisted game of dominance. But now, you're not so sure. There's something deeper-a need, an almost primal urge to possess and be possessed.

The day you finally give in to him won't be gentle. You can feel it in the way your bodies clash, in the intensity of his gaze. It will be raw, fierce, and everything you've secretly craved. And when it happens, you'll be ready to let him see every part of you-the parts you've never shown anyone else, not even yourself.

After work Bucky takes you home, you decide to let go of what happened because now you know that he wants you as much as you do. He wants to be there for you and give you everything you can give.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day," you admit, adjusting Bucky's seatbelt. It feels tighter than it should and you think it's the reason you're short of breath when in reality it's the man in the driver's seat who's gripping the wheel in a way that's too erotic for your tastes.

"What conclusion have you come to?" he asks without taking his eyes off the road. The way his jaw clenched when he spoke and the hint of a neat beard on his cheeks spark some very perverse thoughts in you.

"I want you Bucky, so much. It wouldn't be a one night stand, I know I'd be addicted to your body pressing against mine," you admit bravely and a smile lights up his face.

“Show me how much you want me,” he taunts you.

You decide to please him without using your sharp tongue and you reach out to the crotch of his pants to feel what you have dreamed of so much. Under your fingers you feel him slowly swelling and as you feel it you bite your lip to hold back the excitement that is growing inside you.

You unzip his pants while he is still driving, you notice that he has slowed down and on his face you notice the desire he has for you. As soon as you free his cock you notice that your fantasies did not do him justice. It is definitely bigger and thicker than the one you imagined you rode every night. You wet your hand with saliva - as you have seen done in many pornos - and you start to touch it enjoying the heat on your hand.

You make small movements with the palm of your hand and the idea that someone could see you does nothing but excite you more. You are not an expert, you do not know what he might like more but despite this the movements of your hand are decisive.

"I knew you were a good girl," Bucky says from behind the wheel. Seeing how he's reacting to your touch excites you even more. His breathing is no longer regular, you see his expression satisfied by your touch and when you notice that there are only a few meters left to your house you almost feel sorry.

You start to pump faster, you have decided to challenge yourself and you want to make him come before you get to your house. As your hand increases the speed his sighs become faster and faster and when you see from his look that he is close to that point you take off your belt and lower yourself towards his big cock and take his tip between your lips until your mouth is filled.

"Such a good girl," he says to you while parking the car and you look into his eyes smiling, swallowing all his seed and licking your lips to show him that you liked it.

He fixes his cock in his jeans and then follows you into your home. He intends to return the favor you have done him and will really make you scream as he always threatened while he was teasing you. Once the door is closed behind you, you begin to kiss with desire. Your tongues touch and search for each other and feeling your taste mixed with his cum gives him another throbbing erection despite the orgasm of a few minutes ago.

“I knew there was a whore inside you looking for my cock," he tells you in a hoarse voice. Your body is on fire, you need him to give you more. He makes you lie down on the same couch where he rejected you less than twenty-four hours ago and begins to undress you hastily without paying attention to your clothes. He scatters everything around the room and when you are finally naked in front of his gaze he admires you in amazement.

You are perfect. Your body is perfect in his eyes. Every little imperfection that you see in it are things that he loves. You are a Greek goddess in his eyes and every part of you belongs to him and you both know it. From the day you stained his white shirt with coffee you already knew it would end like this.

He starts taking your breasts with his big hands, only his mind knows how many times he has wanted to touch them, bite them and suck them and now everything is possible. With his metallic hand he holds one of your nipples tightly, the cold touch of his hand makes you arch your back with pleasure and in the meantime he sucks and bites the other nipple making you want even more. Your gasps are music to his ears, your body is like an instrument in his hands and with every touch he is able to let out those little sounds he loves.

“Bucky, please I want more,” you beg with the help of your needy gaze.

"What a needy whore, isn't you?" he sneers and you nod to agree with him. You want to be his whore for tonight and for all the nights to come. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body and then lingers on your pussy. The place where you need him to focus.

With his thumb he begins to touch your clit and in the meantime his gaze is fixed on your face dominated by pleasure from that insignificant touch. While with his thumb he continues his work with his middle finger he begins to penetrate your cunt going deep to feel how wet you are just for him.

"What a wet pussy we have," he compliments and then licks your juices from his fingers and satisfied he licks his lips.

He makes you sit with your back to the backrest and positions himself between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. As he enters you with two fingers, he begins to lick your clit while your hands are firmly on his head. You push him closer to you while desperate cries escape from your lips. Before that, you had never felt anything more pleasurable. His tongue moves expertly on your tight pussy sucking the right spots and alternating with licking.

“Bucky… I’m about to come,” you tell him between sighs of pleasure.

"Good girls only come when they are told, you are a good girl aren't you?" he tells you after taking his tongue off the place he was devouring with pleasure. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you impulsively suck his fingers taking all your flavor away from him. Your pussy is sweet and the taste and smell make Bucky ecstatic. He starts to undress too, letting his erection come out, now it seems even bigger than before and you don't know if you'll be able to take it all. But you know you'll make it, you want to show Bucky that you're a good girl. Good girls can take all the cock.

Before filling your pussy Bucky positions himself between your breasts and you squeeze them around his hard and veiny member. He starts moving with restrained rhythms while you stick out your tongue to lick the tip when you have the chance.

"You have no idea how much I've dreamed of being between these tits," he tells you between thrusts. Your hot tits around his throbbing cock are an incredible sight. Then Bucky takes a condom from his jeans pocket and orders you to put it on him.

You tear it off with your fingers and place it on the tip of Bucky's cock and then with your lips you cover that member with the condom.

“You're my good girl," he says, caressing your cheek. Then with a brusque gesture he turns you around and you find yourself doggy style on the couch with your legs wide open. He spits on his fingers and lubricates your pussy and then he enters you. Slowly and trying to get you used to it, it's still your first time.

His thrusts are slow but firm. It's not enough for you, you want more.

"Bucky..." you say between sighs.

"I know, baby... let your pussy get at ease to my big cock," he replies, putting his hand around your neck and then touching your breasts with the nipples still hard and stained by him. As soon as he notices that you no longer feel any pain, he increases his speed. He fills you up completely, making you scream with pleasure, he doesn't give you time to make you understand that he's sending your mind into a spin.

"Bucky... I'm going to..." you can't finish your sentence because he slaps you on the right butt. The slap sends you into paradise.

"You can only come when daddy tells you to," he replies, slapping you again, this time on your left ass cheek making you scream in pleasure.

After many deep and fast thrusts you feel the orgasm inside you, holding it back is fucking hard but you don't want to disobey Bucky, or rather, your daddy. He has taken away all your sharp responses with his cock turning you into a perfect whore for him. Like you always dreamed.

"Come for daddy, doll," he orders you, he's almost ready to come too but he wants to do it to you. On top of your body. You don't have to be told twice and you come on his big cock and as soon as he comes out of you he takes off the condom and orders you to get on your knees in front of him.

He starts touching himself in front of you and explodes in an orgasm on your beautiful face throwing away every single ounce of purity you had left. You lick your lips hoping to be able to take some of his cum and be able to taste it again like in the car. He grabs your neck and kisses you with fury. Your mouths both taste like the sex you shared and you can't be happier.

“You did really well,” he tells you and you bite your lip at the compliment. “I'm proud of you," he adds, giving you another long, longing kiss.

You go to take a shower to wash your sweaty bodies but "by mistake" Bucky's cock enters your pussy again and fucks you in your shower again giving you the second orgasm of the day and again by mistake his cock ends up in your mouth and Bucky teaches you how to give a blowjob that satisfies him. As soon as you finish the shower you slip into your bed, he wants to be with you after what you have shared and once in bed you fall asleep hugging each other.

The next morning, thankfully a Sunday, you devour everything you have to eat. You were so into sex that you didn't have dinner last night and your arguments resume but end with you rolling around in bed.

This new perspective excites you more than it should, every argument now corresponds to a perfect fuck and now to shut you up Bucky will put his cock in your mouth. "What a beautiful whore you are when you suck it," and these dirty words help you get an orgasm. Bucky says good girls like to be called whores and you are one.

"You're all mine," he tells you while you're sitting at the kitchen table where you've just finished eating, he said he wanted dessert so you you decide to propose yourself as a meal. You took off your panties and without being asked he was between your legs sucking and licking his sweet dessert.

"I love you daddy," you say closer to your orgasm, those are Bucky's favorite words. They make him understand that everything about you is his, your heart, your perfect cunt, your mouth and the rest of your body.

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happiest-hotch · 4 months ago

Text

The Brink of Collapse

Summary: Aaron and reader have been on the brink of divorce for a long time. And then suddenly he's there, and feelings come to a head.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: very angsty, talk of divorce, mentions of strippers

It's been an odd month.

Surreal, in some ways.

You and Aaron have been on the brink of divorce for a while, but once you finally said the word, everything changed. It opened up a new world of feelings and even more hurt.

It didn't seem possible to feel more hurt, but here you are, sitting on the couch, feet tucked beside you, and a glass of wine on the coffee table. You need it for your nighttime reading, the first draft of a separation agreement, your and Aaron's full names on the top.

It feels like physical proof that you and Aaron have failed. Every sacrifice that was made in the decade you had been together wasn't enough. All the love in the world wasn't enough.

It hits you in a deeper place in your chest than you knew existed, and it makes breathing difficult.

Those papers are a taunt you've been putting off confronting, but it's time. It's something you have to do.

Your eyes gloss over the words, but you catch yourself slipping into a defense strategy where your name is removed from you, and it's a draft divorce settlement of detached clients.

"Late-night reading?" His voice makes you jump, startled by his appearance in front of you.

You had spaced out, thought he escaped through the front door to avoid whatever this awkward situation could be categorized as. You find yourself wishing that he did as he looks at you, trying to profile your thoughts. Dick.

You're both trying to keep life somewhat normal for the children, not wanting them to be caught up in your mess which means when he's in DC, he picks them up for the day and drops them back home. You just thought he'd leave out the front door rather than come across the house to talk to you.

"It's not that late." You reply. "Do you actually want to do this?" You're not sure why you ask, not when it's going to hurt.

"Do what, Ms. L/n?" Aaron asks, but he knows. He walks behind the couch and into the kitchen, taking the open bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass without invitation.

"Get divorced." You answer before adding something you probably shouldn't since there's no need. "I'm still technically Mrs. Hotchner."

He doesn't chuckle at your quip, but he looks close. "You wouldn't be holding that if we didn't." Carefully chosen words, as expected. "I've always loved that part of your name."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That's a conflicting message."

Aaron shrugs, sitting down on the couch next to you. You kind of wish he hadn't. He could have just gone back to wherever he's staying and you wouldn't have to do this metaphorical dance.

"They're not mutually exclusive." He explains. You try to keep a neutral expression, but it's hard to hear that your soon-to-be ex-husband likes that you have the same surname. "I love the name, doesn't mean we can't get divorced."

"I won't be Mrs. Hotchner then." You remind him, but you keep it lighthearted in tone.

The air is getting too grave and when things get too grave, you both say too much. It's painful conversation, of late. No more 'I love you's and bleeding heart promises of fixing it. You both know you're beyond repair so you talk about that, and it's getting depressing.

He shrugs. "Not necessarily. Plenty of women keep the name after divorce."

Divorce.

That dirty word that's become your reality.

"I've not considered it." You confess. It seems easier to be honest about something little. "Would it bother you? If I kept it?"

He waits a beat, staring into the semi-opaque wine. "No. Not in the slightest."

"I feel it could get real awkward." You admit and he frowns, not understanding what you mean. "When someone says, 'Oh, are you related to Aaron Hotchner' and I have to say, 'Yeah, he's my ex-husband.' I mean, you know half this town."

Aaron considers it for a second, that thoughtful frown on his brows. "I hadn't considered it." Obviously. "You have my blessing if you keep it."

You chuckle humorlessly. "Thanks."

"This whole thing doesn't have to be adversarial." He reminds you, but it's not condescending. He's almost smiling, lips tugging up at the corners.

Your eyes narrow at him. "Have I done something to make this feel adversarial?"

It's snider than it needs to be, but he comes back professionally. "No. But I've seen couples in our situation start arguing, even yelling, at every step."

You snort out a laugh. "The life of divorce attorneys, right?" He's telling it like you don't know like you're not still in the job he left for the FBI. You bite your bottom lip, considering whether to drive the conversation in a different direction, and come to the conclusion that it might make the conversation lighter and with it, stop the clenching feeling of your heart. "Do you still remember the Beamounts?"

He laughs louder than you've heard in a while. That does the trick and gives you a quick breath of relief, but it's gone as soon as it's there. "I couldn't forget it." He assures you. "Do you still have her little card? The one you kept in your wallet?"

You're almost giddy listening to him laugh, and it makes you giggle as you recall it. "Yes! She ran those exotic dance clubs, I remember. I'm still not sure if I'm offended she gave me the card… like, I can't work out if she thought I might be interested and would want to come watch, or if she thought I'd like to leave seven years of school and a law career behind to strip."

"Do you want me to take care of that card? It's been in there for what? Twelve years?"

His offer throws you a little, but your reaction comes out as teasing. "Oh, do you need her card? Now that we're about to be divorced?"

"I certainly don't." Unsurprising, he has no trouble with women. "But I do want to preserve your wallet's purity."

"I think she gave me the non-explicit version." You explain to him. "I'm sure there are some racy ones out there for guys that are into that stuff..." Something prompts you to push it further. "Like you."

Aaron laughs again, and you get another breath. "Very occasionally." He assures you.

"There's photographic evidence, Aaron." You remind him, smiling softly at the photos Morgan showed you of some BAU boys' nights out. Aaron looked so uncomfortable, and you're sure he spent the entire evening refusing to look at any woman's assets. It makes your stomach churn knowing that, if the situation arises again, he won't act the same way. "Unfortunately, good old Mrs. Beamount is spoken for these days, so I guess the card has no use to you."

He hits you with something you don't expect, although maybe you should have since it's in line with your mutual reminiscing. "That was the first time we met. Just baby lawyers thrown into the craziest case."

"I remember laughing with you about how ridiculous it was." The first time you laughed together about that, you breathed deeper than you ever have before. "Do you remember the thing with the dog?"

He snorts with laughter. It's probably not meant to be as attractive a sound as it is. "That damn chihuahua he insisted was possessed? I remember being so annoyed because I knew the dog couldn't be possessed. I kept asking myself what I'd done so wrong in my life that I had a client expecting me to argue it." Hearing his thoughts now is different than just laughing about back then. "Then when we got there, the damn animal was barking and growling in a demonic way. That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was possessed."

The passion with how he talks about a damn dog makes you smile. "Now imagine everyone seeing that and having to argue it wasn't demonic." You remind him of what your position was as his opposing counsel. "I felt so ridiculous arguing it. And she wanted the divorce settlement to include him taking it to the groomer." You shake your head disapprovingly at the memory. "It creeped me out that she kept it in her purse. That was the ugliest dog I'd ever seen."

It's odd to be laughing with him, considering your precarious relationship circumstances, and even odder that it's about the first case. Surely it should be about what Eden said today, bonding over your kids seems less intimate than talking about when you met.

"I remember she even tried to make herself look more motherly and nurturing in court, by taking care of it during the proceedings." He continues.

It's like you're watching the whole thing again, but you know how it ends. "I was just praying she wouldn't start breastfeeding it." You say. "Her boobs were so plastic that I think if she put that rabid dog near them, he'd chew them."

Aaron loses it laughing, clearly seeing the mental image that worried you 12 years ago. "Okay, okay, that's enough." He finally manages to get out.

You finish off the laughter, letting it die down rather than continuing the conversation.

"What did you think of me?" He asks, a surprising tangent. "When we first met?"

You know he knows since it had been discussed it a few times between dating and marriage, wanting to reminisce. Why he's asking now, you're not sure, and why you're answering, you're even less sure.

"I thought you were a jerk." You admit.

He laughs, but he's thinking about whether you think that again now. "Yeah?" He prompts you to go on.

"That's what happens when you arrive at a mediation meeting five minutes late with Ferrari keys." You remind him with the same disapproving frown.

You can still remember when he walked into the big boardroom, dressed in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with his hair longer than it is now and parted down the middle. Compared to now, he looked so young, just 25 and straight out of law school, not having seen the most awful parts of the world. He's different now. His shoulder bag switched out for a briefcase being the most minor change.

When he walked into the room that first day, you were equally as pissed off by and attracted to him. It's full circle that you feel that way again.

"I had to find parking." He reasons.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You didn't valet your car?"

"After the Ferrari, things were tight," Aaron says, but it's a joke. You both know he has money, the separation agreement dividing your assets wouldn't be so long if neither of you had money. "What about after that?" He asks. Sadistic or masochistic, you're not sure. It hurts you to relieve it in your memory, but is it hurting him?

"I was leaving that meeting. As fast as I could, of course." You pause for his laughter. "And you were already in the elevator." It hurts to recall, just like you expected. "I wondered if I should join you."

You still wonder now, if you made the right decision that day. On one hand, you'd have none of the good memories, but on the other, you wouldn't feel like your chest was clenching and your heart was threatening to shatter with each breath.

You decide to keep telling the story. "And I did. And you made me laugh, right off the bat, both of us giggling about the ridiculousness of our clients."

"Not very professional." He notes with a smirk. "Opposing counsel gossiping about their clients."

Your eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Why'd you make the first joke then?"

He wants to tell you it's because he needed to make you laugh, just to hear it and see you smile. His fear takes over and he settles for a quip. "I mean, you looked uptight, but I could tell you weren't."

Your scoff is accompanied by you hitting his shoulder, both of you laughing and it suddenly hits you that you're flirting with him.

It must hit him too because what he says is out of left field. "Part of me wonders if the reason you're only just looking at that is because, on some level, you're hoping we'll fix things and get back together." Fuck! Aaron has always been a straight shooter, but that was far too much honesty.

You gulp, the saliva in your mouth drying up. "Hey, let's just not go there, okay?" You offer. It's not a conversation you want to be having. Your mixed emotions coupled with his ability to push you, it's not a good combination.

"Sure." He admits, but his tone suggests he's unhappy, and so does his sigh. You're begging him with your eyes not to push it, to leave the house and the conversation, and not make it awkward and hurtful. "I never wanted this to be an argument. Do you know that? I know I've never been great at communicating and all this, but I've always tried to do the best for you, always tried to... I mean, I've never gotten divorced before, so I'm still feeling out the right way to do it."

You're not impressed he's lying through his teeth. Both of you know he didn't "always" do his best at communicating. Those last few months, he barely spoke to you. In fact, this conversation might contain more words than an entire few months.

And is there a "right way" to get divorced? You don't know, but you wish you could stop picking apart everything he's saying, overanalyzing.

You're caught on the first statement. "This isn't an argument, is it?"

"I guess not, but there's a vibe." He points out. "Maybe I'm being hypersensitive. Listen, I know this is hard. I think we both knew this probably wasn't going to be the easiest thing, right?"

You avert your gaze from him, a few tears welling in your eyes. "Yeah, we knew that."

"Hey, look at me." He implores.

You tilt your head to the ceiling, trying to stop crying before you start.

"If you're not ready to do this, then please just talk to me." He says- begs. "Please talk to me."

It's ironic really, him sitting there begging you to talk to him when formerly, it's been you doing the begging for him to share his feelings with you. An embarrassing amount of begging, really.

"Please don't do this." You beg back. "I'm not interested in the idea of being vulnerable in front of you, okay?"

He sighs a bit, hands falling to his side. The look on his face you can read. He's upset about not being able to comfort you, and he's begging himself not to show it. What the fuck does that mean?

"Fine." He agrees. "It's... I don't think I ever fully realized how much this whole thing would hurt, but I'm seeing it now."

You don't thank him sarcastically for being obvious. It's twisted that he's spilling his emotions now, and it's hard not to be resentful about it. If he had just fucking talked to you when you begged him to every night in your last month together, you wouldn't be here. It's too little, too late.

"I guess." You agree. "We'll just get it over with."

It stings his heart, so he stings you back. Whether it's intentional or on reaction, you can't tell. "Maybe you're right and we should get it drafted and signed so we can be finished as soon as possible." But, most surprisingly, he flip-flops. "I miss you, Y/n."

It's the same rollercoaster of emotions that your brain is riding in your head, but at least you're not saying it out loud and confusing the shit out of him. "Don't say that, Aaron." You warn him.

He has the nerve to be surprised by your harsh tone. "...what? It's just a fact. I miss you. Why is that bad to say?"

"Because I missed you for four months while you had one foot out the door of this marriage." You finally snap.

Aaron looks stunned and it only makes you angrier and more upset. "I know," He tells you.

He knows, but he'd never do anything about it. You try to act casual, taking a deep breath. "Okay." You attempt to leave it at that.

He won't let the conversation go. "I should have fought for us."

"You still can." You're not sure why you say it, but you do. Maybe you give him one last chance because you'll regret it forever if you don't.

"I am more in love with you than I have ever been." He bursts out, unable to help himself given the chance.

It makes your heart soar and your eyes water. You sit there silently, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly like it might protect you.

"I never should have put you in a position where you felt like something was wrong with us." Aaron looks at you so sincerely that you can't help the tears running down your cheeks. "It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't fix it so I didn't try, and I'm aware that was the wrong choice every day."

"I don't know what to say." You tell him. "Why bother coming to this conclusion, and telling me about it, when it's too late?" Maybe you're protecting yourself more than you need to be.

Aaron shakes his head. "Because it isn't."

"Aaron." You shake your head, holding up the literal divorce papers that exist to remind him. "So much has happened in the last four months."

"Not too much, though." He emphasizes.

He's pushing a button that makes your emotions boil over. "I don't even know where you're sleeping." You remind him firmly.

"Holy shit, Y/n!" Aaron's quick to assure you of what might have been going on in your head. "No." He pauses. "I'm sleeping at my office." You can't say that doesn't relieve you. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on. Since the day I met you, I've never looked at anyone the same."

His strong assurances make you cry more. "I don't know if we can fix this." You admit, disappointed in yourself.

"We absolutely can." He pleads to you. "You said we should get a divorce because love isn't enough to make this better, but there is more than love here. I am committed to you and I want to fix this."

You continue your tears and he reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You lean into his soft touch. "I do too." You admit, the realization alleviating some of the aching in your chest.

"You mean the world to me," Aaron tells you firmly. "I will do anything to get us back on track. I wasn't before and I know I was stupid for it, but I'm listening, Y/n. To everything you need and want."

"I think we need help." You confess. "Like professional help."

He can't nod fast enough. "I agree. We can get that."

You stop him before he can pull out his phone. "Tomorrow." You request. "I just want a hug."

He hasn't had you in his arms in far too long, and he reaches out for you. You lay on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, I've missed you." He hums, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

You sniffle your tears, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"Y/n, I will never let it get this far again," Aaron assures you. "I was stupid and I can't lose you. I love you."

You're sure you feel the same way. Everything definitely wasn't fixed and there was a lot to do, but one thing you're sure about is being married to Aaron Hotchner. "I love you too."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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forsworned · 5 months ago

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It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

Text

The horror and the wild (Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 Word count: 4906 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

This fic on AO3

— I do not wish to speak about politics before breakfast!

— Your Highness, I’m afraid, politics would not be waiting patiently until you’re finished with your sweet pastries.

— What do you mean?

— The Emperor’s army is on our doorstep.

The look on the face of the Princess – your Princess – was priceless. First, it was a surprise, her adorable features all twisted in a very unladylike gasp. Then, it was terror – the first time you saw her ever express that emotion since the palace was always clear of anything that could scare her royal highness, from mice and snakes, and up to severely ugly people(poor, poor Elvin – he’d a good life if it weren’t for his pointy slabby jaw). Then, and it was the final emotion on her illustrious face – it was anger. To nobody’s surprise, the anger was mostly coming at you.

You see – you’re a Princess's most loyal handmaiden. Raised under her crib, going to the same classes, doing everything in favor of your royal highness, from warming up her jewelry and to trying the food first to see if it’s poisoned – your whole life’s goal is to make sure that the Princess is as comfortable as possible. You’re her shadow, her servant, the closest to a friend she can have – and if you were the bearer of the bad news, it’s only natural that she would be angry at you in the first instance, and not at the imperial army clashing down at your tiny bordering kingdom.

— Where are the guards?!

— Judging by the screams I am not sure if there are any left in the outer levels of the castle. And if the King didn’t come with a usual note after breakfast, it’s safe to assume that he is more busy.

With a trained movement, you quickly duck under the table when the Princess, naturally, throws a plate in your direction. You knew she wasn’t meaning it – your poor, innocent darling Princess, she was just as scared as you were but had not learned of how to hide her emotions under sarcasm and false calmness. Your job is to keep her safe – and calm – even if there is no royal family to serve anymore. You don’t want to think of the possible outcomes – King took you in, a simple peasant girl with no talents whatsoever, and gave you an illustrious education, the most sought job in the whole kingdom, and an allowance that would allow you to study in the real collegium, were they to accept women. You don’t want this place to fall in Northern Empire clutches – and you especially don’t want the Princess to learn the harmful ways of two pretty young women trapped in a castle full of enemy soldiers.

— How could this happen?!

— I’d have an answer for this question, Your Highness, but you ordered to urn any mail from the Northen Empire. Perhaps, they send us quite a bit of war declarations before finally going down.

Your hand goes to the side of your skirt, clutching on the suicide dagger – if something happens, you’d have to kill the Princess first, take the sin of killing oneself from her innocent soul – and then go down after her, hoping that your dog-like loyalty would allow you to serve her in heaven.

The Princess has many things that she’d like to take with her to the afterlife. You better start preparing her package soon – this castle wasn’t built to be protected from the army of beasts, hiding under human skin – your kingdom never provoked any wars, always trying to search for the opportunity of negotiations – and now this comes to bite you right in your soft rear, without a sufficient amount of guards or a suitable army to protect itself.

You’d pray for the god, but your god wants you to die.

— Princess, we need to…

Before you could say anything else, an explosion erupts somewhere in the southern tower – the closest place to enter the Princess chambers. You can hear screaming, you can hear laughing – a foreign language, the one you are proficient with, but it never made it less barbaric, less harsh. These people talk like swords clangs against each other – like a harsh metal against your skull. You’d give up anything to not understand what they are talking about.

There is something to be done before the soldiers arrive, finding only a few guards and two pretty, terrified young things. You might not be afraid of death, but you sure are terrified of what will come before their blades would slit your throat. You do not wish to die with blood between your legs. You do not wish that fate for the Princess either.

“The Princess should be here.”

“Did Lord say anything about trophies?”

“Don’t take anything now. Tiger said we were never here – he would pay us later”

“What about…”

“Don’t kill the Princess either. Emperor want her to himself, remember?”

“Come on, are we here for a whore?”

“A royal whore, dumbass. Now shut up before Emperor hears you.”

They laugh and you can hear the Princess whimpering, crying softly – all of the layers of harshness are washed away with every tear rolling down her perfect cheek. You move to them as fast as you can – these stupid clothes allow you at least some freedom of movement, saved from the excessive decorations and expensive, heavy fabrics – you are only as few levels higher than cleaning rags. you could probably rip away the lower levels of your skirt and run – the Princess wouldn’t even be able to move without your hand steadying herself.

You need strength to not slap her right now – you know that the pain on her perfect puffy cheek would help get her to listen, but nothing in your body moves to ever hurt her, no matter the cause. You push yourself to the door, thinking – your castle isn’t the highest one in the whole world, if anything, the Princess would be able to escape either via the window or the secret tunnels – but they would search for her, they would never accept defeat like that. Even if you’d stall them for long enough, pulling every bit of luck you don’t have – they wouldn’t stop if they had the goal of catching the Princess.

— Your radiance, we have to go!

— Where? The castle is going to crumble any second now, and Mama and Papa are…

You press your ear against the tough wood, listening to the soldier’s speaking – language is even harsher now when the adrenaline runs through your veins instead of blood. You would give up anything to be strong – to have your dancing and embroidering lessons switched to sword fighting, to archery, to read dark arcana books instead of romance novels that you and Her Preciousness liked so much. Your hands are soft and delicate, only a bit harsh from occasional cleaning and serving – you’re a shame to any servant in the castle, a house pet made to entertain and please, not to fight and work.

The Princess is a cherished treasure for your kingdom. Protected and hidden away, the King was smart enough to know that a royal gem like her would make all the old rulers of kingdoms surrounding yours go into a frenzy – so Her Radiancy wasn’t ever allowed to any royal mingling and balls until she’d reach the age of at least 21. Her birthday was next month – a small mercy, knowing that there was a possibility of never getting of that age.

“Is that a Princess?”

You hear a woman – probably one of the higher members of the court, considering her high-pitched accented whimpers with a familiar voice. God bless her soul and dedicate her a quick death – you don’t want to think what would come of her if not for this prayer.

“Princess should be in her quarters. This one definitely doesn’t speak like a royal meat”

“How do we even know which one is the Princess?”

“She should speak like one. Would be easier if her family ordered a fucking portrait.”

But…you were with the Princess your whole life. You know how to act like her, you know how she talks, how all royals talk. You know how manners, you know how to sing, how to dance, you received the education that allowed her to copy your study work and give it to her personal teachers – her own reflection wouldn’t copy her better than you would.

You’re young, like a Princess, you’re pretty, almost like a Princess – and you’re loyal like a dog, itching to pay your debt to the royal family.

— Your Highness! You need to run, please, just take the secret route through the walls and…

It was the most horrible moment for her to put her foot down.

— I…I live to serve the royal family. Dying for you will be the greatest of honors.

— I will not just leave you here!

— They’d defile and kill us both, Your Highness. But if I just pretend to be you, they won’t come looking for you, won’t they? They would have what they wanted and you will be free.

— What about you?

You’d feel hurt for how quickly she ran to the secret tunnel – if such feelings were normal for a servant to have. You’d feel betrayed if it wasn’t the life or death situation – if you weren’t putting on her dress as swiftly as possible before the soldiers would come running for you. It’s funny, how you always wanted to try her dress – how you were jealous of everything she had, even if you were the closest to her – you pride yourself in not caring about such silly mortal possessions, and yet, you always wanted to try something as beautiful as her dress.

You stare at yourself in the mirror – terrified, small, ready to die at any point or to be hauled back to the Northern Empire like a piece of meat. Dress suits you, the bright pink would tell about innocence and radiance – but not it smells of blood and betrayal. If the soldiers thought that the Princess killed herself in her room, they would surely not think about trying to find her.

You push the tiny dagger against your wrist, praying to all of your knowledge of medicine that your death will be quick and as painless as possible. You left out a silent prayer – knowing that the god would only welcome you after your death.

Not a war, Horangi corrects himself – a massacre.

***

Tiger of the North was fucking tired.

This whole mission – declaring war that no one seen and no one wanted, marching through the street without an army behind him, felt more like a bandit’s doing than something that a general of the best army in the world would do. This whole operation is a stunt, an order from the Emperor that no one expected – seriously, sometimes he still felt like a child with new, exciting toys. For all he knew, König never saw a Princess – yet, he sent his best men to take her out, not caring that this would mean a war on the bordering kingdom.

Not his fault this shithole didn’t even bother to reply to any of the Emperor’s letters regarding the marital status of the Princess. Not his fault they don’t even have a proper army – the king died, gutted like a fucking pig, and the queen followed soon after. Their unit can count less than 20 people, with royal hounds and other animals to help – yet, no one was able to foresee them entering the castle and butchering it. It’s a hunt, not a war or even an assassination – a hunt for the Princess, the useless fucking thing.

If they’d only bothered to get at least some portraits – something to tell what she looks like. Perhaps, she is ugly, a mix of a toad that fucked a pile of shit. Perhaps, she is crazy and eats pillows and keeps her handmaidens' heads like a trophy. Perhaps, she don’t fucking exist and the king just didn’t want to say out loud that his dick was never working enough to produce an heir.

— Search the quarters! I don’t want them to have time to know that their precious king is dead.

The low rumble of König beside his almost makes him dart from surprise. He wears a mask, of course, not even trusting his people to see how he looks like – perhaps, he is as ugly as a toad that…ah, shit, he is using the same comparison again.

A faceless ruler and a faceless Princess – a match made in heaven.

— You think other kingdoms would send their condolences?

— I’m sure that Price is already aching to write a congratulatory letter for the expansion of the empire. A nice addition to the title, ja?

The emperor laughs, a sword in his hand, dark from the king’s blood. Horangi still doesn’t understand why he would decide to go on such a dangerous operation – if anything, they could haul the Princess back to the capital, or at least the nearest Empire territories – but no, König decided to go here himself, searching for a Princess that would, surely, not be worthy his attention. If this man didn’t want to marry all the options other kingdoms offered him, he surely wouldn’t be satisfied with a girl from this shithole of a country. Their land is barely enough for a normal castle, let alone all of the riches that the Empire provided.

Yet, König stumbles in every room, searching for something – for someone. Other soldiers don’t dare to take trophies in front of their emperor, knowing that this operation should be as secretive as possible – no other rulers would bat an eye for a mysterious royal passing and the quick marriage of the Princess of this kingdom, but Graves would be quite concerned and bitching about the Northern Empire coming close to his kingdom. God, if König could just bathe every last one of them in blood, he would have.

— Sir, I believe the Princess should be here Unless she killed herself already.

— Those people honor death more than they do life. Better be fast before I’d have to marry a corpse.

— We could bring her back.

— Nothing can wash off the dead smell even after resurrection. You think why Krueger can only have sex with common whores?

They both have to suppress their laugh at the thought of the royal advisor. Poor, dead Krueger, serving a contract that even death would not be able to break – it’s a good thing to have it on their side. Provides a good amount of jokes just from being around him.

König rushes to the door that looks the most guarded – judging only by the amount of dead servants around it. The Princess must be here and, knowing the traditions of your kingdom, he has about a minute before you’d kill yourself, yelling something ridiculous about finding solace in death and that they would never take you alive. The door comes crashing down ridiculously easy – or it’s his strength challenging in the form of barbaric savagery. When he pushed into the room, he didn’t see what he was expecting to see.

He sees something better.

You look divine in the moonlight, your form, draped in an expensive dress that you only managed to take on halfway through, getting stuck in that stupid corset and billions of tiny bows and cutting jewels. You look majestic, godlike, you look like something from a fairytale. He was anxious before this, thinking if it was worth it – overthinking every bit of the operations, evaluating if the enemy kingdoms would be fine with him just taking you. König wasn’t sleeping a good few nights before this – now he looks at you and wants to kneel in front of your perfect form.

— No wonder they didn’t have portraits. They wouldn’t capture your beauty.

He shook the knife – little thing, as dainty as you are – from your trembling hands. Poor thing terrified of him – he’d pick you up and haul you on your shoulder already, but he wants to take a moment and just admire the comparison between his huge, muscular arms and your fragile form. He knows he is big, imposing, threatening – but compared to you, he feels like a war god paying tribute to his newest sacrifice.

You shake in his grasp, not fighting it – Princess wouldn’t fight, you remind yourself. If killing yourself is not possible, if your dignity is tarnished, the death and torture shall be met with silence – you put your lips together, as firmly as you can. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sobbing when his hand goes to cup your face – a faint trace of your makeup staining his dark gloves.

— This is the declaration of war. You were…

— This is no war, meine Liebe. How could we fight the nation with a dead king?

The Princess would cry, learning about the death of her parents. You try to force more tears, making yourself look as miserable as possible – it isn’t hard in this brute’s hands, with his soldiers surrounding you – but, for some reason, he doesn’t look surprised when you are not crying immediately at the mention of the death of your supposed parents.

He laughs, cupping your face in a rough, crude gesture. He shouldn’t treat Princess like this – even you are not used to men being this vile, to speak of such lewd matters with his men. They surround you, laughing, not even bothering to pay the least bit of respect in front of their Emperor.

He wears a hood and it makes him look like an executioner, not a ruler. But, perhaps, you would welcome a butcherer more than you would a husband.

— Let me go! The guards shall rise to my abduction and they will not leave thou to…

You don’t even need to force yourself to speak like her – you’re royal by any means, other than blood and service. You can imitate her your whole life if needed, shadowing her your whole short existence – it only hurts you more when you are praying that the Princess, dressed up in your garments, would be able to escape. You know that someone will save her, and take care of her – it’s just like the plot of your favorite romance book. An abandoned Princess of the burned kingdom rises to be the wife of a mysterious, masked blood knight, saving him from pushing his soul into the darkness. You, in this story, would be just a minor victim for the author to kill.

— The guards would rise if they weren’t dead, Princess. Too late to call for them now.

He sneers at this “Princess” like a snake, ready to sink her teeth into your soft, limp body. You whimper, finally trying to get your knife from his hand – as gracefully as you can, remembering that you are to stall the time for her to escape, not to actually save yourself. He laughs and lets you go suddenly – only to pick you up like you weigh nothing. Pick you up like a bride, not a pig for him to gut.

The tip of your ears is burning – your whole face is burning, you feel ashamed, embarrassed, angry, every emotion swirls in your head as he doesn’t even try to be subtle about his affection. You thank god for the layers of skirt you are wearing – but the upper part of the dress is barely holding together, showing a scandalous amount of shoulder. You are tainted – a scandal in the court, if there was a court alive.

— Put me down this instant. My kingdom will not just accept these levels of disrespect!

You say this weakly than you wanted to. He laughs – thunder and bear roar, ocean waves against the mountains – you whimper when his hand goes to rip the upper part of your dress entirely, leaving you barely covered, with only three layers of clothing and a corset between you and his horrible, dangerous hands. A lady should not be seen by men when she is in less than five layers of clothing – still, you feel much better when the heavy fabric lets go of your skin. Still, you feel mortified, knowing, what would happen when he started to take off your clothes.

Well…you think you know what will happen. You and Her Highness read books with a scandalous amount of intimacy – touches, hugs, kisses even, the last book having record five instants of the main heroes being in close proximity with each other – you also know that whenever a male enemy soldier captures a woman, he is doing…something before killing them. Not quite sure what, but obviously torturous.

— The only kingdom that is left for you, your Highness, is what lies between your legs. I’ll be sure to pay my regards later.

Before you could say something – anything for that matter, he already hauls you away, still stuck in his hands like a trophy. You thank god that he doesn’t see the difference between you and the Princess. You never knew your acting talents would be of this amount, but nonetheless, you feel complete, knowing that the Princess is safe and sound.

— What is the purpose of your actions?

You are weak, voice whimpering and quiet. You don’t want to touch him, but the hungry gazes of his soldiers make you weak and fragile – you cling to him, trying to cover your modesty. The corset is a part of the wardrobe that no fine lady should ever show to men – yet, this is the only thing now that is keeping your tits together, saving at least some of your dignity. The heavy skirt of the torn dress lingers on your legs, covering you as much as barely holding up fabric can. König’s chest rumbles with a laugh when he notices you clinging onto him like a helpless kitten.

— I’m taking my bride as your parents were not kind enough to answer any of the proposals.

— Why didn’t you just visit?

If it were for him, he would just sprawl you on the ground and take what he wants. He would, were he a simple soldier, not the North Emperor – he would if there weren’t any witnesses if there were no intentions of marrying you later. But alas, he needs your hands in marriage – he needs you whole in marriage, from head to toe, from your heart to your soul, from your pussy to that sweet mouth of yours – and he can’t have all that unless he is patient.

— I did. Right now, for that matter.

— As the only heir to the throne, this would mean the death of my country. You can’t just…

— Who is there to stop me, little one? Your parents? Dead. Your army? They would kneel for my men were we at actual war.

You close your mouth. He laughs again, this terrifying hood of his moving when he shakes his head. You sob, tears flowing freely down your cheeks – it’s a wonder you can still talk while crying like this, but you need to keep up the act and you need to stall the time as much as possible. His hand goes to wipe away your tears and, for a second, you almost want to bite him. But, Princesses don’t bite – they lay in the hands of their captors and wait for princes to save them.

— The other kingdoms would protect us, we had war pacts!

— Were you loved enough to start a war with the Empire to protect you from getting married?

— I shall…

— You’re too young to speak like a queen, Liebe. Leave that to me, ja?

You open your mouth.

You close your mouth.

You open your mouth again.

— Please, let me go.

This is a quiet, soft sob – König stops for a second, looking at your fragile, vulnerable expression. You’re as weak as a kitten, as adorable as a bunny – and precious, his little treasure, tucked away nicely in the deepest corners of this kingdom. He almost feels bad for breaking you, for taking you away. He killed many men, the king included, and he captured more land than his father ever could dream of – the biggest empire lies at his hands and yet, he feels weak when you cry in his hands.

It still suits you more – a pained expression, pure terror, all the emotions that a young woman like you should experience when she is captured by someone like him – he believes in terror through submission and the tears streaming down your face makes his cock twitch in his pants.

— I have all the right for you, little one. It’s your father’s fault that you were not protected more.

He laughs, his large, imposing hand goes to cup your ass – you don’t even understand how his touch manages to get through this many layers of clothing. Your skirt is in complete disarray when he touches your legs, squishing and destroying the crinoline parts and whale bones. So much went into creating this skirt, a horrifying construct that never allowed the Princess to move freely, stuck in one place like a glorified little dolly – now it becomes your grave, mortifying and freezing you in one place.

— You can’t…no, please, don’t…

He grabs your hips with the ferocity of a warrior, not an emperor. Rulers shouldn’t kidnap Princesses from neighboring countries, and they shouldn’t lead their troops on an operation that would destroy any diplomatic relationships with them – but he stands here, no more than a normal soldier, and you were never this terrified in your life before. He is a monster, a beast, an anomaly that shouldn’t exist in this world – even your desire to protect the Princess isn’t stopping you from crying and shaking. You bite your lips and sob softly, quietly, hoping he won’t just throw you to his men.

— This is what politics leads to, no? Your father decided to stop being diplomatic…and I did too.

He isn’t my father, you want to scream. He did nothing but take you from the streets, and slums you were scrambling aimlessly like nothing more but a tiny critter under his boots – he gave you everything, any book you wanted, the best company in the whole kingdom. He isn’t your father, still, but you pay for his mistakes – mistakes that you had no idea of. Princess ordered you to ignore any mail that would come from “This Northern brute” and you didn’t know that it could come to this.

If only you were to steal those letters and read them instead of throwing them away…but what would it come to? Princess wouldn’t marry someone like König, she had no like for the emperor twice her age, for the human who defiled the very laws of nature, sitting in his high castle, ordering the undead soldiers around. Monster with, probably, three heads and two faces, with four hands hiding under his magnificent armor. A beast who is…

A best who is cradling you in his arms like you were his lover, not his victim.

— Put me down. Please.

— I’m getting tired of listening to little Princesses wailing. Tell me, Liebling, do you wish to continue this journey quietly or unconsciously?

His hand goes to your neck – no doubt, he would be able to squish the life out of you if he so wished. No doubt, you are fucked – utterly and completely, with his ability to do whatever he wants your inability to stop him in any way. Sobbing softly, not wanting for him to continue this humiliation, you simply nod – to whatever option he deems appropriate. Princess would be screaming, yelling for help, and she would stomp her adorable feet on the ground until she’d get what she wanted – but you are no Princess, and playing pretend already makes you miserable enough.

— I do not wish to see the destruction of my kingdom.

— It’s not destroyed, little Princess. Merely defiled, captured and burned down.

— You didn’t…

— Of course not, kleine Hase. I wouldn’t dare to burn the newest addition to my empire…unless you would make me to.

It’s not a threat – it’s a promise, poorly concealed by the obvious smile in his voice. You cling to his chest and hear the rumble of his laugh when he pushes his cape over your shivering form. It’s a small form of comfort, but an unwelcome one – you’d rather be shivering, naked, and exposed in front of his troops than find comfort in the way he treats you. His cloak is heavy, more suited for the harsh weather of the central parts of the Empire – not your kingdom, mostly warm and wet, with bountiful rains and plentiful soil. You understand why he would want this land – you don’t understand why he would want you.

— Don’t hurt my people.

— Be nice then. You can be nice to your husband, ja?

If you weren’t a Princess, you’d claw his fucking eyes out – get your dainty hands under his hood and scrap the pulsating flesh, turn his face into a mush of blood and gore. If you were real Princess, you would declare war on the Empire and die the protector of your kingdom – not a terrified girl.

But you’re neither a Princess nor a commoner.

You push your lips together, allowing König to take you away. Accepting your fate not with dignity, but with quiet, fearful acceptance.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #könig call of duty

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kayesfanfics · 1 year ago

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General Alucard Dating Headcanons

A/N: This takes place post Season 4, if he didn’t fall for Greta of course and just became friends with her

He absolutely adores when you call him Adrian, he doesn’t really like being called Alucard by you, since that’s more of his title than his actual name. He didn’t share his real name with you for a bit, but one day he asked you if you could call him by his given name, Adrian, and of course you respected his wish. But there was something about everyone else in the village calling him Alucard or The Alucard, and you were one of the only people to call him by his name. It made you feel special, and it made him feel more close to you when you said his name

It took awhile for him to open up to you fully, after what happened with Sumi and Taka, he needed physical space from you. Physical touch was iffy for him, he had to take baby steps into it with you. First it was linking pinkies, then holding hands, then hugs, and it took a long time for him to finally kiss you. But once he did, he never stopped wanting to, your lips fit perfectly against his and your sweet and love filled kiss didn’t hold any malice or ill intentions. More intimate things like sex would come later into the relationship, but for now you were content with kissing him

HE LOVES CUDDLING WITH YOU. After getting used to you touching him and feeling your arms around him, he felt so safe in them. They held him after nightmares, held him when he cried, held him when he wanted to express his love for you. Likes when you play with his long hair and scratch his scalp, his own hands often scratch your back with his long nails, or his thumbs rub your hips where his hands are rested. When he feels lonely in the castle, he finds you and asks if you to hold him. It never takes much convincing, so you find a comfy place to get comfortable, whether it be him sitting in a chair and you on his lap, on a couch or getting cozy in bed for a nap together

Loves watching you help the people around the village. You help the men hold things up to build houses, help cook meals with the women, play with the children while their parents were busy. You and Sypha would often chat together, complaining about your S/O’s bad habits, like Trevor’s constant thirst for beer and Adrian’s clinginess when you were busy

Adrian: “I am not clingy…am I?”

Trevor: “When you got drunk with me you cried about wanting Y/N and kneeled before her.”

Adrian: “Oh-“

He likes to gather and cook you dinner personally, it feels more intimate and with love that way rather than just bringing you a plate of food someone else made. Likes to set up romantic dinners with a velvet tablecloth, candles, and a vase with flowers for you, and cook you your favorite meal after a long week of running a village with him

He gets so embarrassed when the orphans of the village call him ‘dad’ in front of you. It always makes you giggle and brings a red blush to his pale cheeks, and he freezes until one of this kids tug on his sleeve to answer their question. Whenever he sees you playing with the kids, he can’t help but imagine what it will be like when the two of you have kids. Belmont and Sypha are already expecting their first, maybe soon the two of you would as well in the near future. He would bring the idea up to you, and you had the same thoughts for some time as well, thinking that Adrian would make the cutest kids with you, hopefully they’d have his luscious blonde hair

He definitely wants to turn you into a vampire, he doesn’t want to live his immortal life without you. Of course if it is your wish to remain human, he will respect that, but if you allow him to turn you, he will do it gently and hold you through the painful transition. Would love to always kiss where he bit you while turning you, so lots and lots of hug from behind followed by the soft peck of his lips on your neck

#alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #castlevania x reader #castlevania

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kana-daydreams · 7 months ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨

summary: zoro decides just for your sake and his, for once, to allow himself to express a feeling he’d long buried inside him after Kuina’s death—and a feeling he’s only ever had for you. genre: mild angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.2k

I love you.

Settled atop the crow’s nest dome- shaped roof of the Thousand Sunny, Zoro’s dark-brown eyes dart open to meet splotches of fluffy white painted across a canvas of endless blue.

A gentle breeze rustles his clothes and threads through his mint-green hair as he lays with his back pressed flat against the roof’s surface, head cushioned by his arms, while his gaze continues to follow the clouds lazily gliding across the sky.

I love you.

Zoro clicks his tongue when he hears the words teasing melody continue to play in his head.

Words that had repeated its haunting every daylight, and every nightfall.

Words you’d confessed to him weeks ago—and words he had thought would be your last.

Why did you do it?

Zoro still relives the moment when he watched your body go limp in his arms, crimson red trailing its way down in gushing streams from the wound in your torso.

Why did you risk your life to save his?

A question that lingered along with your confession deep within his mind during the couple of weeks you’d remained a victim of sleep.

A furrow lines Zoro’s brows, deepening as he unwillingly recalls the urgent scream of your voice calling his name, followed by the sound of steel tearing through flesh and then the painful sight of your body collapsing, motionless, in a pool of red.

After the tragic occurrence, day after day, Zoro would visit you inside the sick bay. It was a difficult task at first, seeing your comatose state, but he made it part of his daily routine to check up on you. And assisted Chopper where he could, sometimes spending the entire day by your side and wishing that you would just open your damn eyes.

And during that time he spent with you and without you, he prayed.

Zoro never believed there was a god but yet, for you—he did.

Like a devout believer, day in and day out, he prayed and hoped for a miracle.

Hoped that some god— any god—would hear his prayer and that you would awake from your seemingly endless sleep.

Though when a couple of weeks had flitted past and you showed no signs of waking up, the little faith he’d mustered started to wane.

Waned until like a flame drawn down to a single spark of light left with nothing to fuel its burn, it extinguished.

But today Zoro’s flame reignites.

At the sound of Chopper's crying voice, Zoro’s body bolts upright, his eyes drawing wide when he hears him announce in between sniffles and hiccups, that you’re awake.

And in an instant, he’s on his feet.

And in an instant, his legs carry him with desperate steps towards the direction of the sick bay, Zoro thinking to himself, despite his once wavering belief—for the first time—a god really just might exist.

“Nami, Robin— you guys are going to hurt her!” Chopper’s worried voice warns the two women hugging the life out of you—literally, Chopper thinks.

“Okay, just one more hug.” Nami snivels, long tears rolling down her cheeks as she gives you one last squeeze before she and Robin unwrap their arms from around you, moving to stand amongst the rest of the crew huddled around your bed.

Your eyes scan each of their tear-stained faces like your own, at the same time searching for the perpetual stone-cold expression of Zoro’s, your heart sinking when there’s no sight of it.

“I’m so happy to see everyone.” You manage a weak smile, brushing off the disappointed feeling at the swordsman’s absence, and instead focus on the wide smiles, happy tears and collective expressed words of happiness and relief of your long-awaited recovery.

For the next hour or so, the sick bay’s room is permeated with mirthful chatter and laughter until Chopper starts kicking everyone out, informing them of your much needed rest.

“I don’t understand? Why would she need more sleep?” Luffy who sits cross-legged at the foot of your bed asks with a genuinely confused expression. “She’s been sleeping for we—” he’s interrupted when Nami grabs a hold of one of his ears and forcefully starts dragging him out of the room, the scene making a small laughter bubble up your chest.

Luffy’s painful groans and complaining voice drowns out when the door clicks close behind them, and with solitude now your only company, your mind is left to idle.

To idle on the memory of Zoro.

To idle on the memory of his mortified features as he held your form, drenched in blood, close to his chest. And the prominent picture of hurt mixed in with other indiscernible emotions that crossed his face when you confessed your years-long harboured love for him, just before your vision turned dark.

You can’t help but wonder exactly what he thought during that moment of your untimely confession, as you absent-mindedly reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, smoothing it along the rough scar that lines across your stomach. A reminder of the small price you had to pay in exchange for the life of the one you’d always cherished with your whole heart, and the one your eyes longed to see the moment you’d opened your eyes.

A sudden rap at the door pulls you out of your thoughts and you rasp out a “You can come in!” wondering if Chopper had returned to check up on you.

However, when the door cracks open, instead of the doctor, it reveals the familiar figure of the man you’ve yearned to see.

You watch as he steps into the room, your eyes catching his steely expression which immediately melts at the sight of you.

Zoro closes the door behind him and wordlessly approaches your bedside, neither of your gazes unyielding from the other. That is until his eyes flicker down to your hand still settled on your exposed stomach, the muscles in his jaw becoming visibly tense.

There’s a silence that settles between you both. One that is equally tense and you can’t help but attempt to lighten the mood.

“Fell asleep again or forgot I existed?” You quirk a brow, a teasing lilt carried in your tone. “I’m placing my bet on the first one.” You chuckle.

“It’s none.”

Your laughter simmers down when you look up to see that Zoro’s features are void of any hint of amusement.

“Oh? Then…”

“I wanted us alone.” He explains and your head tilts in curiosity at his words.

“Alone?”

“Yeah. We need to talk.”

You ponder on what he says. On what the topic of discussion might entail that he didn’t want the others around. And in a second or two, when an answer suddenly dawns on you—that it might be about your declaration of love— you feel a faint touch of warmth caress your cheeks.

Shyly, you pat a hand beside you on the mattress. A motion for him to have a seat.

Zoro takes you up on your offer, joining you on the small bed after removing his swords which he settled in a nearby corner of the room.

“So, what you wanna talk about?” You ask as you feel the bed sink under you from his added weight.

Zoro takes his time to form an answer as his eyes examine you for a bit: the healthy gleam of your skin, the vibrant light in your eyes, and the way your lips curl into that beautiful smile he’d longed missed.

And the longer he takes to respond, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“How do you feel?” He finally asks.

You pout. It isn’t what you expected, but his concern for your well-being at the same time isn’t a surprise.

“A little woozy and tired. But Chopper said I’ll feel better with a little more rest.”

“Right…rest.” Zoro murmurs to himself.

He had been more than determined to see you as soon as he watched the others leave your room that he didn’t consider the toll their long visit had probably taken on you.

“Then you should get some.” He stands to his full height, ready to make his departure, only to be stopped by a sudden and gentle tug on his shirt.

He peers over his shoulder, looking down to see your fingers gripping onto its hem, your face creased with worry.

“Please Zo, don’t leave.” You plead. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You’d noticed it in his tense expression—that what he wanted to discuss carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, though you weren’t exactly sure what it might be if not your confession.

“You need to rest.” Zoro urges.

“I won’t be able to unless you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Your persistence and stubbornness is no surprise to Zoro. He knows all too well that your words are true, and stands there conflicted with your hand still glued to his shirt, before momentarily releasing a deep sigh as he relents to entertaining your request.

You watch as he seats himself near you once more. “Tell me Zo. What is it?” You prompt when a lull falls, lingering between you two.

Zoro’s eyes sweep down to where your hands lay before flitting up to meet your worried eyes. “Why…” He pauses for a beat as if gathering his thoughts, before he pieces together the rest of his words; finally asking the question, though not in full, that has been long weighing on his mind. “Why did you do it?”

Your brows wrinkle, confused. “Do what?”

When his gaze leaves your own and you notice it drops down to your stomach, you immediately come to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

“Because I wanted to.” A smile pulls at your lips.

A smile that makes Zoro’s hands, unnoticeably to you, ball into fists.

A couple of weeks ago, you were on the brink of death because of him and now you’re here, smiling warmly up at him, saying that you didn’t mind that you’d almost die!

Zoro’s fingers curl, digging deeper into the palm of his hands.

He’s happy—overjoyed, though his features mask the feeling—that you’re okay and that he gets the chance to see your smiling face again. But what if he had lost you?

What if he had lost you, just like he lost…

Zoro shoots up to his feet, your fingers hold on his shirt, ripping away.

“You’re leaving.”

His sudden burst of words leave you to stare dumbfoundedly at him as he walks over to the side of the room where his swords lay, propped up against the wall.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?”

Zoro faces your direction once he’s finished securing his swords to his hip. “As soon as we dock at the nearest town, you’re getting off.” The tone of his voice hints that there's no room for an argument.

You gape up at him. “You can’t be serious.”

This wasn’t the first time, the second nor the third, that Zoro had tried to get you to leave the ship—and to leave their crew.

He’d wanted you long gone since the day Luffy’d recruited you and tried his earnest to get the boy to throw you off the ship.

Figuratively of course.

“I thought we were past that phase. Aren’t you tired of trying to get rid of me?”

“Not, exactly.” Zoro says and you purse your lips, brows knitting into a frown at his curt and honest reply.

“Well like I’ve told you countless times, Roronoa. I'm not leaving.”

Zoro gives a subtle flinch when you refer to him by his family name instead of the nickname you’d called him since you were children. He then releases a deep sigh meeting your defiant gaze. “Being a pirate isn’t child’s play.” He ends with your name. “It’s dangerous.”

“And, what? You think I don’t know that.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing.

You were aware that like the others, Zoro was worried about you. But you were here because of your own volition. Not his. A fact you verbally express.

“I’m not a little girl, Roronoa.” You say, voice stern. “I’m an adult. Meaning, I make my own choices.”

Zoro scoffs, almost mockingly at your words. “Yeah, choices that almost left you in a permanent coma, sleeping beauty.”

“I was only trying to protect you.” You feel yourself becoming more pissed, for lack of a better word, at his retort. “You could have died if I didn’t—”

“I ain’t no weakling. I could’ve taken it.” He argues back.

“You don't know that, you arrogant seaweed!”

Zoro was strong. Inhumanly strong. A verifiable truth you’d always known. But like any other human being, he was still mortal—and all mortals bleed. All mortals die.

Seaweed?! Zoro’s brows furrow, the muscles in his face twitching. He then heaves a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look…” he starts, voice much mellow than before. “You’re not a pirate. You’re not me and you’re not Luffy—you’re not like any of us.”

Zoro watches as your expression morphs into a reflection of hurt at his words—and it aches him. But his words are somewhat of the truth. You aren’t like any of them. You don’t have raw strength or devil fruit powers to protect yourself nor are you cautious when faced with life-threatening situations, choosing to tackle those situations head on without much of a drop of hesitation.

And that’s what scared him the most.

“It'd be best if you just go back home where it’s safe.” Zoro finishes, eyes meeting anywhere but your gaze.

“So that’s the real reason you don't want me around?” Your fingers clench around the sheet wrapped around you. “Because I’m weak?”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Then what do you mean, huh! Zoro Roronoa.” Your eyes well with unshed tears and your voice cracks as you choke back a sob. “Why is it that you keep trying to get rid of me?”

Your question is only met with silence, as Zoro continues to keep his mouth sealed.

“Is it because I’m a burden?”

You weakly voice a thought that’d always remained rampant in your mind since the day Zoro vanished a few years later after Kuina’s death, leaving you only a single letter explaining his aspiration and his pursuit of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman along with a stern warning that you never attempt to search for him.

You’d adhere to his wishes which brought with it many sleepless nights, especially when you thought you would never see him again.

Fortunately, by a stroke of luck, you’d managed to cross paths when you stumbled upon him wandering around like a lost puppy back in one of the towns you usually frequented for selling your goods. And after your fateful reunion, spurred on by what’ve been years of friendship blossomed into unrequited love, you decided to join Zoro in his ambition—and the rest of the straw hats who’d unexpectedly and without a doubt become your home: your family.

“...It is. Isn’t it?” You say when you notice him tense at your assumption.

“No it is’n—”

“Then what is it!” Your voice consumed by a mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment bounces off the walls of the room. “At least tell me why?”

Zoro looks across at you and a pained expression shadows his face when he sees droplets of tears rain from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, falling and seeping into the white sheets clutched in your grasp.

“Why do you want me to leave?” You continue. “Why don't you want me to be a part of your life?” Some of your words get caught up in an uncontrollable storm of hiccups and sobs. “... and I promise Zoro. Tell me why and I promise I’ll leave.”

Zoro was never one to be emotionally transparent. You know that. But you wanted to know why…

Why is it that he was so determined—eager to make you leave?

Why is it that he was so eager to drive you away like you were never a part of his life? And him, never a part of yours.

Silence permeates the room as Zoro’s lips remain sealed shut like before, and as it prolongs so does your impatience.

“If you’re not gonna answer, then go.” You breathe out a weak sigh, feeling new tears starting to emerge. “I’ll leave just like you ask, so just get ou—.”

“‘Cause I love you.” Zoro mumbles out in a rush, that you barely register what he says.

You blink away the tears, directing your attention over at him, more precisely his back. “What…did you say?”

Zoro’s face contorts into a frown, heat burning at his cheeks. “I said…” He grits his teeth, finding it cruel that you were making him repeat such cloying words. “...I l-love you, you idiot.” He stammers out and you notice his ears tinge a dark red.

Your heart stutters at his unanticipated confession, words you’d been longing and hoping to hear for years—and words which render you speechless.

“S-say somethin’” Zoro practically begs, growing increasingly embarrassed by your lack of a reaction, still keeping his body pointed in the opposite direction.

You shake yourself out of your surprised state. “You love me?” You ask as heat fans across your face. “Then…why do you keep pushing me away?”

“..Because you’re reckless.”

Your face contorts into a slight grimace, feeling somewhat offended by his words. “I am not reckless.” You retort, regretting it when he starts to recount childhood memories and those of late, that bear witness to his claim.

Though those events couldn’t compare to the one that almost made him lose you.

The room descends into utter silence when Zoro finishes, leaving you with your head drooped down in embarrassment which had seeped in bit by bit during his narration of your every rash act.

“I can’t…”

You raise your head slowly to look across at Zoro whose voice punctuates the silence. And your heart sinks when you hear the subtle crack of his voice.

“I can’t...” He repeats, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I–we lost her. You—” Zoro grits his teeth, clenching his eyes tightly from the growing pain in his chest. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

To Zoro, you are his everything.

The woman who holds the entirety of his heart in the palm of her hands; all he has that reminds him of home—and a reason other than his promise with Kuina to become the world's greatest swordsman.

Zoro’s hands ball into fists as he feels a burning sensation settle behind his eyes. “I can’t lose you t—”

The words that pained to leave his lips are cut short, when Zoro feels arms wrap, snug around his torso, a soft and familiar body pressing against his back.

“I’m right here, Zo.” You reassure with tears and soft whimpers. “I’m here. And I’m alive.”

Zoro’s heart pounds violently against his chest when you hug him closer to your body, as if trying to prove to him you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

To your surprise, Zoro turns around and captures you in a tight embrace. “I know…” He presses a light kiss to your hair, letting it linger for a second, before settling his chin atop the crown of your head. “And about what’ve said before. Forget about it.” He says, as your soft sobs continue to fill the room. “I…I don’t want you to leave.”

“You mean it?” You quiver out.

“Yeah.” He replies. “Just please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

Your eyes flutter close as you snuggle closer into his warmth. “I will. I promise.” You say, both of you, unknown to the other, making a silent vow to become stronger.

Stronger for each other.

#𓇻 kana's op ddrms #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #op fluff #zoro x f!reader #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro x reader #op angst #one piece angst #one piece x you #zoro angst

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