wozidacozi401

[wozidacozi401]

kc ronin oneshot

-hiiii! i've been getting back into writing and posting on ao3 and wanted to post one of my os on here!-

You were fast asleep in your plush duvet, arms tightly locked to your stuffed companion, wishing it were your beloved counterpart, Ronin. 

Without your knowledge, the window slid up, the cold night air slipping in along with the blood-covered man you adored. Your nighttime wishes came true.  

The last few days had been tense within your apartment. Ronin was on a hot streak, anger pulsing through his veins. Every footstep was a stomp. Every breath a huff. Every look was filled with hatred. But you stayed. You knew it would pass like every time, but this tantrum was much worse than the previous one. 

Ronin moved with the shadows. He stood over you, watching your shoulders rise and fall. Finally, he reached out and touched your shoulder, blood transferring onto you. He groaned lowly. The thought of your pure, lamb-like self being tainted with the blood of your beloved wolf’s slaughter… His jeans angrily became tight around his crotch, his arousal prominent. 

You slowly stirred, the feeling of being watched overcoming you. 

“Ro?” You call out, opening your arms, seeing the man hovering over you, blood still wet on his face, his clothes. 

“Darlin’...” He huffed, his hand needily stroking himself over his jeans. 

Your face burned red, and without warning, Ronin was on top of you, holding your wrists tightly down. You felt the warmth of blood on your ski,n making you lightly gag. He smelled awful, like had been killing for hours. 

“W-wait. Ro-” 

You were interrupted by Ronin’s lips, which were roughly pressed against your own, his tongue already grazing your teeth to let him in. You gasped, and his tongue met your own, he pushed into you harder.

Your soft whimpers were music to his ears. Like he had finally escaped Hell, and the sounds echoing in your room were the holy trumpets. 

“Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.” He panted over and over. His hands hungrily trailed over your pajamas, clinging and grabbing at any piece of bare skin he could find. 

His mouth moved down and he murmured your name into your jaw, your neck, his descent down your body feverish. 

He saddled your waist, his hands lingering over the hem of your shirt. 

“Tell me to fucking stop,” He panted. 

“No.” You look up at him. “Don’t Stop, My Savior.” 

The sounds that came out of his throat were guttural, primal. He draws a knife out of his belt loops and slices your shirt, then your shorts, then the rest. He discarded them as if he were offended that they had even existed in the first place. 

“I want to ruin you, Y/N. I need to make you look like me.”

Your lip trembled, but you simply nodded. His bloodied hands found your hips, and he gripped them roughly, grinding his still fully dressed body against your now fully naked one. 

“I want to see my little lamb covered in blood.” 

Your heart dropped. Blood? 

He held his knife tightly in his hand, the blade pointed at your face. “What if I made another pretty hole to stuff my cock in?” The cold blade trailed down your throat to your stomach, he dipped the tip of the knife lightly into your smooth skin making the room erupt in soft sobs. 

“There you go, darlin’. You look so pretty when you’re scared. My cute little sacrifice.” 

He gingerly kisses the tears falling from your eyes, running his tongue across your cheek to collect them, to taste your fear. He sent small shivers of pleasure up your spine. 

He sits up and slides his jacket off, then his shirt. He turns the knife to his chest, right over his heart. The knife slides gently across it, droplets of blood oozing. You reach out to stop him, but pause. He wanted this. 

He draws the knife across his chest a few times, blood slowly dripping down his torso. 

“Lap it up.” 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face into his chest. He moves your face back and forth against the cuts, blood staining your face. 

You stayed silent, arousal building in your stomach that you didn’t even know was there. 

“Be a good little lamb and lap up my wounds, hm?” You stuck your tongue out and slowly dragged your tongue across the cuts. Blood collecting on your tongue, making you wince. 

Ronin, on the other hand, was washed over in pleasure—low moans emitted from his mouth, the grip on your hair loosening. You eagerly licked the wounds he had carved into himself as your hands gripped his torso, which was now used as an anchor. 

When he had had enough, he pinned you back down into the bed, his mouth and tongue exploring every inch of your skin as you whimpered and moaned. You knew you trusted Ronin, knew that he would never let anyone hurt you. You just hoped that included him. 

He stared at your body like he was memorizing the Bible. Taking in the holy words that were now the curves of your body to heart. 

“I just think,” 

He kisses your jaw. 

“That you are the prettiest little thing in this whole fuckin’ world.” 

You groan at his words, arching your back so your chests are pressed flush together. The sticky-sweet smell of blood floods your senses. Creating conflict between your mind and your body. 

Ronin rocked his clothed hips into yours in a desperate, erratic manner. His moans sounded like prayers as he grumbled and murmured in your ear. 

“You make me want to believe again,” He murmured against your throat, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin. “Fuck. Thats fucked, yeah?” His voice hitched, and his breath was shallow like a low sob as he moved a hand down, starting to undo his belt. 

You looked up at him innocently -- like a lamb to the slaughter as he shakily unclipped his belt and pulled it through his belt loops. A devilish smile crossed his face as he took the leather belt and started slowly, gently wrapping it around your wrists. He pulled it tightly until the leather became a second skin and tied it off. 

“There we go… now you can’t scamper away.”

He slowly, sinfully slid his jeans nad boxers down, his cock springing free. You and Ronin had been somewhat intimate before, but this was very different. It felt like a confession. Like regret of what he had just done and he had to come cleanse himself. Almost like your pussy would be the thing to baptise him. 

“Are you ready to be reborn, little lamb?” 

You gave a meager nod as he pried your legs open like the cover of his scripture. He carefully aligned his cock to your now soaked entrance; yet for a moment he paused, murmuring to himself. The image below him was intoxicating. Your trembling, bound, flushed flesh beneath him? You were truly his little lamb lying on the altar, giving up to the ritual he was soon to perform. Finally, he gave in to the sin. His cock slammed into you in one swift motion, filling you up in seconds. You cried out, your back arching as you writhed in pleasure. 

Ronin groaned and gripped your hips, his head dipping into your shoulder as he allowed you a few seconds to adjust. 

“F-fuck. You feel like heaven, Y/N.” 

Your eyes roll back at his words, and he takes it as a sign to continue. He moved slowly at first, worshiping the sensation of your walls clinging to his dick. His moans were louder than your own. His voice was shaky in your ear as he softly spoke. 

“You feel like forgiveness, Darlin’” 

Every thrust was deeper, more demanding. You yearned to touch him, yet your bound wrists stopped you. He kissed your neck like he was pressing a crucifix to his lips. Gentle. Meaningful. 

The sounds that filled the room were dangerous. The two of you were a mess of moans, pants, and sinful sounds.  Ronin's hips slapped loudly against your own, only making him speed up when the sound didn't seem loud enough. You tightened around him, a mixture of pleasure and confusion wrapping you up tightly in its arms. 

“You know,” He pushed himself up a bit, a hand entangling in your hair, yanking hard. “The Word says to strip her bare.” His hand moved from your hair to cup your breasts, firmly squeezing. You groan and arch more into his touch, “Said to leave her raw, just like the day she was b-born.” His thrusts stuttered, started becoming sloppy. His chest heaved slightly as he adjusted to find your sweet spot. 

You gasped, your hips instinctively bucking, meeting his thrusts. His grip on you was rough and demanding, but there was something to it that felt intoxicating. He bent down to kiss you, his mouth needily colliding with yours before he pulled away. A smirk played on his face yet his eyes were wide and rimmed with tears. 

“You like that, little lamb,” He rasped, his voice shattering. “You like when you’re God damns you?” 

His forehead found yours, blood smearing on your own like you were receiving ashes. His hips rolled against yours, both of you barely hanging on. Your fingers found the blankets above you, and you clawed at them. “I can’t stop,” He whined, his voice dripping in pleasure. “I need you so fucking bad.” Your body coiled tightly, your orgasm building up higher and higher. It clawed hungrily inside you, like a demon needing exorcised. Your moans became more desperate with every wet slap of your hips colliding.

“I was taught love was pain. It had to be pain to be pure.” He whispered against your lips, gently kissing them, his thrusts needier than ever. “Now I’m scared of the sin of loving you. Scared how much I need you when neither of us is worthy.” Tears fell onto your cheek. Not those of your own, but Ronin’s. He treated your pussy like a confessional box, sputtering his sins with each thrust. 

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is more delightful than wine.” He broke. His words were whimpers now as he pushed himself up on both arms and slammed into you. You were crying now, too, your tears mixing together. You couldn't decipher whether it was from the pleasure or the pain of knowing how sinful Ronin felt in this moment. 

He looked at you like you were his final salvation. He pressed his lips to yours hungrily, drinking in your taste. He pulled away to gaze upon you once more. 

“Am I hurting you? Am I dragging you to hell with me?” Soft sobs wracked his body as he thrusted erratically, nailing you into the bed. 

You looked up at him and shook your head. “It’s okay, I’m here.” You couldn't keep up the sexy facade any longer, not when you saw the pain and vulnerability in his gaze. You knew he needed you to anchor him down again. 

He whimpered and pressed his full weight onto you, his face into your shoulder. 

“You’re the only thing in this world that makes me think I’m not damned, Y/N.”

Your name escaped his lips like a scared prayer. His voice was raw and crackling with pain. You softly wrapped your legs around him, pushing him into you more, locking him in. Holding back soft sobs, he sank his teeth into your neck, making you moan directly into his ear.

“Youre not damned, Ro… and even if you were I’d follow you to hell hand in hand.” Neither of you could hold back anymore. 

He thrust in once more as his body with guilt and pleasure. His shaking hand found your cheek, gently brushing your tears away.

“Y/N… you’re my Church, my altar to kneel before.” The words were raw, filled with reverence. Your heart ached with love, sorrow. You could feel him twitch inside you as his movements slowed. He pushed deep inside you, every inch stretching you out. In that moment, you had met your maker. Your walls gripped him tightly as your orgasm crashed into you. You cried out, a sultry mixture of pain and pleasure. He gripped your hips possessively as his orgasm hit him. His cum pumped deep inside you as if it was a breathe exhaling all of the sins he could never utter outloud.

“You’re my only fucking salvation, Y/N.” 

He huffed as he pulled out of you. Your sheets now covered in blood and cum, a very sinful sight. He shakily untied your hand, and you flung yourself into his arms as he sat up. He threaded his fingers gently into your hand and pulled you closer. 

You both lay there, tangled in the gory aftermath as Ronin murmured different verses to you, softly worshipping you. If you had to be his mortal sin, it was a weight you were willing to carry.