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bigricc · 2 years ago

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A Good Man | DR

2k of a bit of self loathing and a lot of mutual pining. This was semi rushed and I don’t love the ending but I hope you like :)

If Daniel was a good man, he would have turned his car around before you had time to notice his headlights glaring into your front windows. If he was a good man, he would have stopped himself from knocking on your door so loudly. Perhaps, if he had been quieter, you wouldn’t have been so quick to open the door, and he would have time to shuffle back to his car and pretend he didn’t feel as bad as he did. But, he was selfish by nature. He needed you, more than he could ever bring himself to admit. So no, Daniel was not a good man.

“Dan? What- what are you doing here?”

Fuck. Of course, regardless of all of the shit he had put you through, you could never be angry enough at him to call him by his full name. His internal dialogue is so loud he doesn’t notice you take a step closer to him until suddenly, you’re staring up at him with a look on your face that wasn’t familiar to him. He had spent the better part of twenty years memorising each and every twitch of your face and how you expressed yourself, but suddenly he felt lost.

“Sorry. I know it’s late, but uh, I just landed and I don’t really want to go home yet. I don’t know. Is that weird?” He’s rambling, he knows he is. He feels so deeply uncomfortable having to show up to your house just before midnight because he’s lonely.

•

He’s standing in your living room, staring at a photo of the two of you at sixteen, along with Jackson and Ben. You almost feel embarrassed about it, given that there are countless other photos of your friends that are far more recent, and probably less cringe inducing. But there’s something about this particular photo that you feel attached to. Maybe it’s the innocence written across each of your faces. Sixteen and untainted by adulthood. The way you’re sandwiched between the lanky teenage boys, smiling so hard you have to squint at whoever is behind the camera. Maybe it was Kate. It didn’t matter anymore.

He’s been looking at it for so long, you have to assume he’s waiting for you to say something.

“How was the race?” You knew exactly how it was. You had stayed awake until the early hours watching it.

“P14. I’m a fucking joke.” He choked out a stiff laugh.

“You’re not a joke Dan, don’t say that.” He was still staring at that fucking photo. “Look at me.”

He takes his time turning around. You’ve wedged yourself into the corner of the couch, clearly your favourite spot given the way the cushion dips in the middle. He remembers the way you used to fight everyone for that spot, just so you could stretch your legs out across the laps of whoever was sat next to you.

“Are you doing okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Two months had gone by since your last phone call. Most of your updates on his life came via his parents or sister.

“Just been trying to figure some things out. I’m sorry.” He was mumbling, a far cry from his usually boisterous self. He takes a pause, and then out of nowhere, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What are- why would I think that?” You almost want to cry. You’re so tired, and his sudden appearance has set your brain alight.

“I just feel like every time I come home, and I- and I’ve got a good thing going with everyone. You, my friends, even my own fucking family.” His eyebrows are pulled tight towards the centre of his face, mouth slanted down in a frown. “I finally feel back on track, and then I leave again, and it’s all fucked.”

You’ve known this man for most of your life, and only a handful of times have you seen him so distraught. Usually, his face is graced with a grin that takes over the room. But now, he resembles a lost little boy.

“What- back on track? What does that mean?” Your scrambling to find words, anything to say just to fill the silence.

“I think- I was so naive when I was younger, thinking that I would just get to come back whenever I felt like it as if the entirety of fucking Perth would just press play as soon as I stepped foot into the country. As if I wasn’t missing out on everything,” He’s speaking so fast, you almost can’t keep up. “I’m missing out on everything. And it makes me feel so fucking lonely.”

His confession makes you feel sick. A man who has friends scattered across the globe is lonely. But really, you know that none of those people are important. His friends and family here, at home, are the only people he craves when it’s late at night and the parties have died down. As flushed as it makes you feel, you know you’re included in that.

“Dan I- you’re not missing out. We’re not exactly doing anything exciting over here.” It’s a poor attempt at a joke, you know that. Because it’s not about that, it’s the comfort of home that he craves.

“I’ve missed out on so fucking much! Jack’s wedding, I still haven’t met Sarah’s baby, by the way- who’s almost two. Two!” He’s frantic now. “What kind of friend does that make me? And you and I are still- I feel like an idiot every time I come here, because I never know what’s going on.”

Suddenly, it’s quiet again. If it weren’t for the low hum of the fridge, you were sure he would be able to hear your heart beating.

“What do you mean, you and I?” You can feel sweat forming at the nape of your neck, uncomfortable in his presence for the first time.

“I mean, we were something. Weren’t we?” He can’t look at you, not wanting to see the rejection before he has to hear it.

He’s right, in a way. If you count a short few months of fumbling around each other when you were seventeen. It was before he left for Europe, before you were forced to move forward without his constant presence. You had never thought too hard about that time, not wanting to face the truth about your feelings. You knew it was likely that to him, rushed kisses and exploratory sex were nothing but a farewell to his upbringing, preparation for the new life ahead of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know that was something to you,” You didn’t want to offend him, deduce him to simply a hookup. “We never talked about it like that.”

“I thought you knew! I just- you had a boyfriend when I came back so I just assumed the answer was no.”

He was right. He had come home and you’d been glued to some kid you met at uni. Your first grown up relationship, and it wasn’t with him. The worst part about it was that you hadn’t even told him. He spoke to you on the phone countless times, willing you to bring it up in conversation, practicing having to pretend his mother hadn’t already told him.

You’re standing now, frantic and confused. He stays put, arms now crossed defensively over his chest.

“You never said anything! Dan, what did you expect me to do?” Strangely, you’ve always liked the way he looks down at you when he talks. But now, the eye contact makes you feel sick.

“You never said anything either,”

“I kissed you at the airport! Like an idiot, in front of your family. I kissed you, that said more that you ever did.” You cut him off before he can continue.

He’s still looking at you, but you’ve cast your eyes to the centre of his chest, attention planted on the vague outline of a necklace beneath his t shirt. He takes a step closer towards you, and before you can react, he’s grabbing you by the back of your head to pull you into a hug.

You’re frozen for a second, fearful that any minute now, you would wake up from a horrible dream, and Daniel wouldn’t be standing in your living room. It’s the smell of his cologne, the same one you recommended to him, that pulls you back in and forces you to slide your arms around his waist. He moves his head slightly, and you swear you can hear his heart beat just that little bit faster when he pressed a timid kiss to your temple. You squeeze your arms around him tighter in attempt to spur him on, urging him to please, kiss me again. And he does, slowly becoming more confident with each press of his mouth to your forehead.

“No, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” It’s you who breaks the silence, only now you’re speaking into his neck rather than the air around you. “You’re probably the best person I know, Dan.”

“That can’t be true, have you met our mothers?” It’s lighthearted, a nice change from the tension that has surrounded you for the last hour or so. It has you giggling into him, dragging your hands up and down his back. The longer you stand there, the more he can feel your body sag into him.

“Tired?” You let out an affirmative hum, but make no effort to pull away from him. “You should go to bed.”

“I can’t go to sleep yet.” You say.

“Why’s that?” He laughs.

“Because, you haven’t kissed me yet.” He’s nervous again. When he got in his car, he hadn’t thought about what the outcome of your conversation would be. He imagined that he would mope around a bit, and you would offer a glass of wine and a hug before sending him on his way. Never did he think he would be standing here hearing you ask him to kiss you.

You both pull your heads back at the same time, his hands moving up to grasp your cheeks. There’s a faint smile at the corners of your mouth, and he wishes he could photograph your face in this exact moment and hang it in every room of his house. When the moment arrives, the kiss isn’t what he imagined. When he fantasised about this reunion, he imagined it would be rushed and passionate. Instead, it’s slow and smooth, and he can feel the years of patience seeping through it. He’s the first to pull away, his boyish excitement interrupting the moment.

“I feel like a teenager again.” He’s somewhat embarrassed to admit it, but no kiss he has ever shared with anyone has compared to yours.

“Hopefully, you’ve improved in areas since then.” There’s a teasing smirk on your face, a nod to your past escapades.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve learnt a lot since then.” He’s wiggling his eyebrows at you in a way that is just so him, and if you were slightly younger and perhaps a bit insecure, you imagine the idea of him learning with other women would make you uncomfortable.

You know him and yourself well enough to understand that if this visit had come any earlier in your lives, the outcome could be much different. Now however, you allow yourself to bask in this moment, and in him, without question.

#daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 fic #mine

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years ago

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Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else? You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity-

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

#england x reader #aph england #arthur kirkland x reader #hello lovelies~!#hws england #hetalia england #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #hws arthur kirkland #reader insert #hetalia x reader #hello lovelies!#readerfic #thanks for reading!#aph england x reader #hetalia england x reader #hws england x reader

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amysteriousmessenger · 4 years ago

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‘Crucified’ - Savior Saeran x Reader NSFW 18+ Reader Insert

Title: Crucified

Paring: Savior Saeran Choi x Implied Female Reader

Wordcount: 8K

Rating: 18+

Tags: church sex, altar sex, oral sex, wax play, just a whole lot of blasphemy

Based on: ‘Crucified’ by Army of Lovers - Youtube Link

A sharp knock came at your door. It was almost midnight, and you’d already showered and gotten into bed for the evening, so you didn’t understand who would be needing your attention so late. Part of you wanted to ignore the knocking and pretend you couldn’t hear it through your sleep, but you knew that there was a good chance that whoever was knocking wouldn’t leave until they had gotten your attention. So, you sighed and pulled your long dressing gown on and wrapped it tightly around your body since you didn’t know who might be at the door at such a hour. You opened it to find two Believers who introduced themselves by Believer number and greeted you with ‘For Paradise.’

‘The Savior wants you in the Chapel. We have been sent to escort you there.’ They shifted uncomfortably.

You squinted, scrutinising them slightly, ‘At this time?’

While it wasn’t uncommon to be summoned or woken up at any hour of the night, you were always tentative to leave your room after dark since Magenta was so large and was, strategically, built like a maze. You were always too worried about getting lost on your way around. The only place you could feasibly find your way to and from after dark was the gardens since you no longer had Ray as an escort around the rest of the building. A small, sad voice echoed in your head, correcting yourself that you no longer had Ray at all.

‘We are not ones to question orders from The Savior. We were told to deliver this to you.’ The hooded Believer handed the wrapped item to you.

The Believers knocked once again on your door, telling you that The Savior had told them to bring you promptly, so you hurried yourself out of the room and into the corridor. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed the heavy rain from inside your room but it seemed to be thrashing violently against the windows along the winding corridors towards the chapel, and was amplified by the silence of the Believers that escorted you. Briefly, you considered asking whether they knew why The Savior had wanted to see you at such a time but figured that they wouldn’t tell you the truth even if they did know so it would be pointless to try. After all, who would willingly walk to their own Cleansing? They wouldn’t have wanted to have made their own jobs more difficult by having you put up a fight.

You were slightly confused and held the item out of view behind the door as you opened it, ‘Right. Allow me a moment to change into this.’ They nodded and you closed the door. Turning on the light, you quickly unwrapped the item in its entirety; It was a short, black chemise. For a moment, you looked at it in surprise. This was… unusual. You ran your fingers over the fabric, until your heart raced at the realisation that perhaps you were being taken for a Cleansing. You wracked your brain for any instance where you might have upset The Savior without realising, but none immediately came to mind. You knew the Savior had the tendency to never talk about the forwarding intentions of Mint Eye, so everyone was almost perpetually on edge. You changed quickly and placed your dressing down back over your shoulders, wrapping it tightly once again. You didn’t know how long you were going to be out, and the Chapel was always cold, especially after the sun had gone down. You knew you needed to look presentable, as it was customary for Believers to either never show their face in front of The Savior, or if they were permitted to be seen; made sure they looked their absolute best as to not displease the higher ups.

With that in mind, you raced into your bathroom to spray yourself with some perfume that Ray had once given you, gargle some mouthwash and roughly drag a brush through your hair. As you put on a pair of slip-on shoes, you couldn’t fight the anxiety that had started to bubble in your chest, even though you knew that there was no use in dwelling on it before knowing either way. And yet, you had seen how The Savior had treated other Believers for their wrongdoings, and while you wanted to believe that you were different, believe in the history that the two of you shared, you were still scared. Perhaps it was because of that history, that bond, that was the cause of your summons.

The Chapel had been built slightly to the side of the main Magenta building, so you had to go outside to get to it. Luckily, there was a shelter that ran all the way along towards the Chapel entrance, so you didn’t get wet, but the wind was enough to rob you of the remaining heat that the anxiety had been merciful enough to leave you with. By the time you stood at the Chapel door, you had been chilled to the bones. The Believers bowed slightly towards you, bidding you farewell with a ‘For Paradise’ before leaving you alone to face your apparent penance.

You knocked meekly.

‘Enter.’ The deep voice commanded from within, making your heart skip a beat. Your hands were pressed against the wooden door, but you struggled to find the strength to open them. You hadn’t seen him in so long, the man you saw walking around Mint Eye, who looked through people as though he didn’t see them, was barely a remnant of the man you loved. You knew better than to keep him waiting and pressed yourself into the door and let it close behind you.

The heavy scent of incense and candles were the first thing to hit you when you closed the door, it was almost intoxicating by nature. Despite the Chapel being a newer addition to the grounds, it was somewhat remarkable that it already smelled like an aged church, you felt like you could smell the history that had never been occurred there. During the day, it was usually only illuminated by natural lighting and after the sun went down, they relied on candlelight and the moon for visibility. You heard him move, but dare not lift your gaze.

‘F-For Paradise.’ You stuttered, bowing your head slightly to look at the ground. Had you always been so nervous to see him? Everything was so different now, but it could not be denied that he was the one who personally summoned you to the Chapel at this time of night.

‘For Paradise.’ Saeran replied, ‘Do you know why I’ve summoned you?’ His voice echoed in the dark, small Chapel. Your heart stopped at hearing him speak, you couldn’t even remember the last time that he had directly addressed you. You looked up towards the other end of the small hall to where he was standing, in all of his Savior attire. He stood at the base of the steps before an altar, surrounded by dozens of lit candelabras, the small orange flames were almost enough to cast come colour into his cheeks. Almost. Suddenly, your heart was in your throat and it took you a few seconds to find your words. You couldn’t even process how much you had missed him, how much you had craved for the future that you had hoped to have together in another life.

‘Am I here to be cleansed?’ The words came out as barely a whisper, but he heard nonetheless. You had barely spoken to Saeran since he had become Mint Eye’s Savior, you hadn’t been permitted to request an audience and he had never made a personal visit. He was distant from everyone, cold and composed. It was as though he was imitating Rika, imitating what he thought he should be doing in this new role. He walked throughout Mint Eye as though he didn’t see anyone, even if you passed him, he’d never looked at you. He usually carried himself with an elevated, yet undeniably melancholic presence that was not easy for people to approach. They feared in him the same way that they had once feared Rika, with the added knowledge that Saeran was more experienced with Cleansing rituals. Whereas Rika would only witness and conduct them, Saeran was the one to carry them out.

‘Of sorts. You’ve been brought here to make a confession first. Kneel.’ He turned to you, slowly raising one arm to his side to gesture where he wanted you to place yourself. It was difficult to convince your legs to move, they were leaden with fear. A confession? What had you done that you needed to confess for? And… ‘first’? What did that mean would be coming afterwards and-

‘Come.’ The voice commanded, slightly sterner this time, reflecting a certain degree of the coldness he exhibited walking around Magenta. You gasped, looking up into his face. He, however, was looking away.

You pulled your nightdress around you as you walked between the Chapel pews towards the altar where Saeran was standing. The floor was marble with a singular, dark red carpet running along the centre with the moonlight shining small reflections of colour through the stained-glass window. You glanced up at Saeran as you walked, trying to read his reaction, but he gave nothing away to you. He was a ghost, the ghost of the man you loved.

‘Kneel.’ He said as you dropped to your knees before him. You knew that the Mint Eye beliefs had been steeped in Catholicism, since the previous Savior was a devout believer and there were rumours that the current one before you had been living in a Cathedral prior to coming to Magenta. The religious elements that became core beliefs in Mint Eye were evident throughout both Chapel and practices. It was set up with the same small layout of a church, and while there were no melodic hymns, there were prayers and chants to be memorised and recited, ‘For Paradise’. Saeran even wore a teal cross on his robes, there were other smaller mental crosses littered around the Chapel too. Believers were taught to worship the Savior as though they were a God themselves, as for all intents and purposes, they were akin to one. The dark oak altar was ornate and decorative, adorned with candles and goblets and a matching marble top.

You clasped your hands together in a prayer-like gesture as he told you to and stared down onto the floor with your hands stretched out in front of you. You watched as his robes shift as he turned to you, and a part of you was worried that he was going to hear the thud of your heart echoing throughout the dark building. Suddenly, his hand came into your view, and placed two fingers underneath your chin to tilt your head up to meet his icy gaze.

‘I want to see your eyes when you’re confessing yourself to me. I’ll know if you’re lying.’ He said, removing his fingers. You swallowed, desperate to shudder from the touch but finding yourself unable to move. That was the first time he’d touched you in so long, since long before he became this. You had forgotten how much you had missed his touch and found yourself almost wishing that you had leaned into his hand.

‘Wha- What should I be confessing?’

‘I think we both know.’ He replied from above, his eyes were cruel, never giving you a moment to even gather your thoughts. ‘Confess your feelings for me, for the man who you wanted me to be. Cry for your sweet Ray, mourn for your lost Saeran.’

‘I-I…’ You trailed off, before Saeran interjected with:

‘Would it help you if I acted like them?’ He asked, a slight sneer spreading over his features.

‘No, thank you.’ You muttered, trying to pull your eyes away. You looked down at your hands, knowing that you weren’t going to get out of this confession anytime soon if you didn’t cave in and admit it to him. Of course, Saeran already knew. He still had access to most of their memories, so he knew of the time you shared with each of them, but that was not the point of this confession. It was to taunt you.

‘From the moment this confession starts, every second will be one closer to being bound.’ Saeran turned, picking up one of the long, white pillar candles and titled it so that the wax started dripping onto your clasped hands. ‘Begin.’

One by one, the soft rolls of white wax splattered onto your skin. It felt like a timer of sorts, and in effect, you supposed it was. You weren’t even sure where you were supposed to start. In the months it had taken to adjust to the new Savior, you had already mourned for the boys that you had lost, and who they were about to become. You had spent many nights crying for what could have been and for what had gone wrong. You had suffered alone, and been forced to watch the man you love become someone he had struggled so hard to break free from. How were you supposed to say all of this in front of him? Of course, he already knew, but he clearly intended to hear it fall from your mouth like a litany of sins.

The wax began dripping freely over your fingers, seeping in between the lines of your hands and heating between your palms. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you could definitely feel the warmth of the wax melting into your bones. It seemed as though Saeran was about to provoke you to speak again, but you manage to find your voice on your own.

‘Ray-… he was precious. He was so scared.’ You continued to watch the candle drip onto your hands, ‘He was a sweet boy, who gave too much of himself to the wrong people. He was sensitive. Obsessive, even. He just wanted to feel loved in the same capacity that he was willing to love.’ You muttered, as the wax started to slip down your wrists. Saeran seemed to savour the last sentence you spoke, appearing to mull it over in his own mind before deciding the next course of action. It took him a few seconds but he finally asked;

‘And did you?’

‘Yes.’ But of course, he already knew that.

‘And? I’ve always thought him rather melancholic.’ Saeran replied from above, looking rather disinterested with what you had to say about Ray.

‘He just wanted to be happy.’ You replied, watching as Saeran reached for another candle. It hadn’t occurred to you that the wax was slowly sealing your hands together in a frozen prayer, until that moment. He lit the fresh candle off of the dying one and tilted it once more over your hands, cocking his head to one side.

‘So be it. Continue.’ He deadpanned.

You had to think again, Saeran had certainly been a lot. It had taken you even longer to process as, just when you thought there had been a solid hope for him to heal, his salvation had been snatched from his hands once more and poisoned. There had been a lot of times in Magenta that Saeran had scared you, or hurt you. His erratic nature would come at the expense of both of you, and it was only when he realised that he was damaging himself just as much as he was damaging you that the burning rage in his heart that begun to cool. He couldn’t swallow his anger, but he couldn’t stop it from dipping into Ray’s sadness, melding them together in a tragic oasis.

‘Saeran was… scared too, but he had to be scared for himself and for Ray…’ You took a deep breath, ‘He was violent and volatile. Saeran was unstable. Well, they both were, but in different ways. Saeran wanted to be happy too but he didn’t know how to be. Every time some form of happiness was hung in front of him, it was ripped away as soon as he tried to reach his hand out for it; so, after a while he just stopped trying.’

‘How very ‘Beauty and the Beast’ of you.’ He said, twirling the candle in an almost bored-like state.

‘You were the one who asked.’ You muttered, almost forgetting who you were speaking to before hurriedly adding a ‘Savior’ on the end. It was getting rather difficult to unclasp your hands under the thick layer of wax, it had started to cool and harden with the time it had taken to talk about the two lost boys. Saeran tutted, and even though the heavy sounds of the rain, it seemed to be an all-encompassing sound.

‘And Saeran? What about him?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you love him too?’ His face was a little bit different this time, yet you couldn’t figure out quite how. Saeran seemed a little bit more interested, but his face never indicated that you had piqued his interest. This Saeran was so visually cold that you weren’t sure how you should place your emotions in front of him. You had seen how quickly Ray had become Saeran, and you didn’t know who that Saeran had become. And yet, you could not lie.

‘…Yes.’

‘I see.’ He replied but said nothing else as he reached for another candle and began melting it once again. Part of you wanted to ask if the confession was over, but the more reasonable part of your brain said it was better to wait to be dismissed, since it was a Saeran that you did not know. The Chapel was silent aside from the sound of the weather hitting the stained glass and the gentle erythematic breathing coming from the both of you.

‘Have you come to an epiphany of me yet? Preach your findings to me.’ He pulled your face up to meet him once again. No matter the Saeran, his eyes were always the same. Wherever he went, whoever he was; he was doomed to carry that dejected gaze.

‘No… I haven’t.’ You muttered under your breath.

‘Disappointing.’

‘I’m sorry, t-this is the first time we’re meeting.’

‘First impressions then. Don’t keep me waiting.’ His voice was chilly again, clearly dissatisfied that you had yet to draw any conclusions about the man in front of you. You were slightly panicked over the fact that you needed to come up with something on the spot, especially at the risk of offending him. You noticed, in a similar moment, that you were no longer able to part your hands. The wax had solidified to the point where you could just about tense and untense your fingers inside of the warm encasing, but not enough to free them, not unless you put a bit of effort into it. You didn’t have time to consider it much longer, as Saeran’s insistent staring made it overtly apparent that he was impatiently awaiting your response.

‘You’re not…as cold as Saeran. But, you’re also not as optimistic as Ray. Forgive me but-’

‘Go on.’ He said.

‘It’s like you’re the melancholic combination of the two… it’s as though you took on the sadness of both of them and made it your own-’

He almost sighed; ‘So that’s what you think.’

‘I’m afraid that I do not know you very well, Saer- Savior.’ Immediately correcting yourself, you sharply bit at the inside if your own cheek for your error. He was silent. You lowered your hands so that they were just resting on your lap as you kneeled

‘I suppose… I could let you know me better…’ His voice dropped as his hand moved from under your chin, to hold you by the jaw, and lift your face up towards him. With his other hand, he grabbed the ornate goblet from on top of the altar and brought it to his own lips, drinking from it slightly. He kept you on your knees, but his movements were slow and purposeful. Saeran never took his eyes from you up until the last moment, waiting to see if you told him to stop. You didn’t. As you felt him place his lips on yours, you let your eyes flutter shut and a tear roll down either cheek. You felt the rush of a liquid flood into your mouth, it was sweet. You knew that Elixir was usually kept in that goblet, as you had seen it forced into people’s mouths during atonements, but this only tasted weakly of that bright blue poison, if at all. Despite your better judgement, you swallowed. You weren’t sure what provoked him to do it, but you thought you’d never get to feel the touch of Saeran’s kiss again. Even if this was to be the last one, you’d have to cherish it.

If you would have asked him why he kissed you in that moment, Saeran probably wouldn’t have told you. He didn’t want to explain that both Ray and Saeran were crying for you. How Ray wanted to hold you in his arms just once more time, how Saeran wanted to try accepting the affection you were so willing to offer him. Neither could stand to see the distance between you and the Saeran in front of you and implored him to do something about it. No, he could never admit that.

He broke the kiss first, and for a moment, he looked as though he was in pain. His hand fell from your face, reaching up to his head for a second as he winced. You wondered, briefly, if Ray and Saeran were both yelling at him in the same way that Ray told you of Saeran’s constant stream of complaints. He wasn’t coughing in the same way that he did whenever he drank the Elixir himself, confirming that what he had given you was not harmful. Even now, in this warped manner, he was trying to protect you in the same way that the other two had done.

In a second of uncharacteristic confidence, you chased his lips, standing to try and kiss him again. You almost stumbled into him in your eagerness. You had been so desperate to repress the feelings of hurt and abandonment in the last few months in the loss of him that you were willing to throw away your sense of anxiety if it meant just getting to be close to him once more. He didn’t move away, letting you kiss at his lips.

It took a few seconds for him to move his lips against yours, since this Saeran still only had the same amount of experience as the others. He made no grand gestures but responded to your touch in the same way that you responded to his. His lips were warmer than you remembered Ray’s being, and you hoped that meant that Saeran was looking after himself better, eating and sleeping as his body needed. He lifted his hand to cup your neck before slowly tracing his fingers to settle on the space between your jaw and neck.

He pulled back, but held onto you, just so he could look at you. You watched as his icy eyes glanced between yours, trying to decipher why you were so willingly still kissing him. He furrowed his brows slightly, as though trying to have a silent conversation with himself, before he kissed you again. This kiss was slightly rougher than the previous times, there was more force behind his lips. It felt emotional. His frozen persona was not melted, but there was a gentle warmth to his touch that reminded you of Ray. You wanted to hold him, to run your hands over his shoulders again like you had dreamt of doing for so long, but your hands remained encase in wax between the two of you. You didn’t want to push your luck, so you gently parted your lips and waited to see if he wanted to deepen the kiss himself. When you felt his tongue slightly touch your lower lip, you all but melted against him. A breath audibly hitched in your throat and seemed to give him a bit more confidence in what he was doing.

Without having your hands free to hold it closed, your dressing gown came undone and Saeran’s hand found its way inside and around your waist, pulling you against him without breaking the contact of the kiss. Your own hands were pressed against your chest in betwixt both bodies, just lightly only your heart which was racing violently.

It was only when the backs of your thighs touched the cold edge of the altar that you registered that you had been guided upwards. Saeran didn’t take his mouth off of you and gently pushed you by the hips. You had to trust had he was moving you properly because, with your hands sealed together in front of you, there was no way to stop yourself if you fell.

You felt somewhat exposed as your dressing gown became completely undone by the time you were ever-so-slightly leaning onto the side of the altar, the temptation to sit on top of the surface was overwhelming, especially after you had been kneeling for so long. As Saeran’s lips descended from your mouth and down along your jaw and tentatively onto your neck, you seized the opportunity to seat yourself on top of the altar, just enough to grant your legs some sanctuary. He cocked an eyebrow at you briefly, before resuming the kisses on your throat.

Now that you were sitting, it seemed too distant, too far away, so you parted your legs to allow him to mover closer once again by standing in between them. He didn’t address it, but quickly understood that you wanted him to fill the space and moved close enough that he was almost looming over you. His presence reminded you of Saeran, in-control and commanding, and yet very attentive. You were somewhat embarrassed by this newfound intimacy, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every single second of it. Part of you felt a sense of religious guilt for doing such things in a Chapel, supposedly under the eyes of God. And yet, it was with the very God of that Chapel that you were committing those sacrilegious acts with, so could it really be desecration of the Holy Ground if he permitted it?

He left small lovebites on your neck, moving down towards your collarbones and you tried to stifle a moan, fearing that it would echo through the building. You gasped at the sensation whenever his lips would attack a new part of your flesh, leaving you more and more sensitive with each passing moment.

‘They both wanted you like this.’ He whispered, almost huskily against your ear. You shuddered against him, immediately wanting more.

‘O-oh.’

‘They thought about it everyday.’ It felt so sinful to be doing something with a man dressed in religious garments, and yet you were entirely captivated by the sight of him.

‘You’re very honest.’ You mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks at his confession. Part of you couldn’t imagine sweet Ray, who stuttered over handing you a rose, would fantasise about something like this.

Saeran paused for a moment before adding: ‘I have no reason to lie about it.’

‘I see.’ You once told Saeran that he only wouldn’t look at you because Ray was in his eyes, but now you could see them both there, staring back at you at he spoke. The melancholy was undeniable, but so was the yearning.

As you moved your arms over Saeran’s shoulders, the motion caused the wax to break and fall off, allowing you to run your fingers through his hair. It was as soft as you remembered, and you could have cried at the feeling of it in your hands. While the Saeran was different, it was still him. There was something undeniably biblical about it, having broken that restraint.

‘Do you require a Cleansing?’ He asked, causing you to break off the kiss. Your heart was already racing from the heated atmosphere, but now it was thudding for a different reason. You looked at him tentatively, making sure you were on the same page.

‘C-cleansing?’

‘A different sort… than the ones conducted downstairs.’ He chose his words carefully, glancing down at the floor as though to emphasise his point, but without any indication as to what he actually meant.

‘What do you mean then?’

‘Intimately.’ Saeran replied.

‘Intimately?’

‘Together.’ He said. Oh. So, that’s how he’s phrasing it. It was only then that you realised how Saeran actually looked. He was panting ever so slightly, his hair dishevelled from there you had had your hands in it, even his long robes were slightly creased from where he had been leaning between your legs. It looked as though his body wanted this as badly as yours did.

You swallowed, ‘Together.’

He once again began kissing you, taking your lips with his as you started to become more and more turned on from his touch and the excitement of what was to come. It was evident that Saeran was also starting to feel the heat of the moment as he began pulling at your bottom lip slightly with his teeth, earning soft moans from you.

You felt him raise his hands to your shoulders and gently push you down so that your back was flat upon the marble altar top. Suddenly thankful for your black robe conserving the slightest bit of warmth as the coldness of the stone hit your back.

Saeran was leaning over you. He was still standing between your legs as they dangled off the side, but he was entirely over your torso and chest, causing his blue sash to dangle off of his shoulders on either side of your head. His mouth was on yours once again and his hands were on your side, your own arms were around his neck, pulling him closer. Not close enough. You had waited so long to touch him again, you thought you had lost him forever. You lifted your legs, wrapping them around the back of his thighs, almost making him fall on top of you. A small shiver of excitement shot down your spine as you heard his breath catch in his throat at your legs wrapping around him and it definitely spurred him on.

He took two fingers and put them under your chin and slowly, oh so slowly, traced them in a continuous line down your chest, in between your breasts and all the way down your abdomen, stopping just above where the line of your underwear was. Since you’d pulled him towards you with your legs, you could now feel the rise of his erection brushing against the side of your exposed inner thigh. You gasped.

‘Are you scared?’ He asked.

‘It’s… my first time.’

‘It’s my job to bring you to salvation.’ He told you, yet it seemed to be that he was saying that last sentence to himself more than he was to you. It was as though he had recited it a hundred times in a mirror and it just fell from his mouth without any real conviction to it.

‘I trust you.’ It was true. You did trust Saeran, against what would probably be your better judgement.

‘A poor decision.’ He replied, running his other hand up your thigh. You had never known Saeran to be so physically bold, so it somewhat took you by surprise that he was so readily touching you like this. It was truly the last thing you expected this evening. ‘You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it.’

‘I… I do.’ Again, it was true. He took it as a sign to continue, but as he looked into your eyes, you knew he was looking back on his time with you as Ray and Saeran, and how the two of you could never return to that time again. There was a hint of emotion that you could not even begin to unravel the meaning behind. This was the best that he could give you in his life of a melancholic penance. Perhaps this was the punishment for his crime of daring to hope: his act of contrition.

His kisses began following the same single line that his two fingers had followed, all the way down your chest. You held your breath as he passed in between your breasts, moving down towards the end of your abdomen. You sighed as you felt his hands grip themselves onto your thighs, tightly. Your sigh told him to continue and his cold hands found their way underneath the hem of your black nightdress, slowly removing your underwear and letting them fall off onto the floor beneath you. Part of you just couldn’t believe it was happening, but all of you did not want it to stop now. The lips that stuttered over your first meeting were now kissing their way up your inner thigh, occasionally biting at the soft, bare skin.

Saeran pushed his hands up onto your hips, to steady himself as he moved closer to you, his thumbs slightly digging into your flesh. You closed your eyes as you felt his tongue make contact with you, thankful that the angle of you flat on your back meant that he couldn’t see the hard blush smothering your cheeks. His tongue was soft and light; exploring each part of you to find which spots made you moan the most and then paying extra attention to it.

‘Sa-Savior…’ Your breath choked in your throat as his tongue brushed against every intimate part of you. He was tentative, but purposeful. All you could manage in response to his mouth was a moan and a few crying mewls, silently begging him.

He licked and sucked at your folds until you were all but whimpering atop the altar. You were so willingly coming undone under his hands, laid bare and exposed before the eyes of God despite not having taken off any of your clothing; it wasn’t necessary for this act of sin. You were embarrassed to look, but when you glanced your eyes down at him his powerful gaze was holding your own, deciphering every reaction you made. The intensity in his cool eyes caused the knot that had been slowly forming in your stomach to begin tightening more and more. You shuddered involuntarily at the sight as you felt the heat rush to your cheeks and hoped that you could just pass it off as the warmth spewing from so many candles. He must have seen how embarrassed you were at being watched, so after a few more seconds he closed his eyes. Once closed, Saeran changed the direction of his tongue and you threw your head back and choked out a cry from somewhere deep inside of your throat at the sensation.

You weren’t sure if time was passing slowly or if you were just that lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, but you were so numb to everything that wasn’t Saeran in that moment. You didn’t even realise that your hands had found their way into his pale hair until you were almost gripping him.

You’d had orgasms before, with a clumsy stumbling of your own fingers, but the intensity you felt in your abdomen was building and building with each passing second, with each passing graze of his tongue. You tried to warn him that you thought you were about to cum, but you guessed that he could probably tell from the performance you were giving. Your legs were twitching around him as soft cries fell free from your mouth, and you almost even thanked God for the experience. And part of you thought that, maybe, you should have.

You could feel that you were right on the edge, desperate to fall off. Your hands moved from Saeran’s head down to his shoulders, where you gripped his white and blue robes with fervour and tried to tell him that you were cumming, but it happened too quickly for you to gather your thoughts in any degree. The pressure in you suddenly snapped and you cried out for your Savior, for Saeran. He continued to fuck you with his mouth through your orgasm, as you moaned and sighed and gasped out for him. It was as close to a biblical enlightenment that you thought you were ever going to get. He touched you right up until the point of overstimulation with his hands on your hips stopped you from squirming away from him.

After a short while, he took his mouth off of you and you immediately mourned for the lost contact but was somewhat thankful for the chance to catch your breath. Or so you thought.

‘Are you ready for me to continue?’ He asked, wiping the spit from his chin with a single swipe of his thumb. His eyes were burning with more emotion than you had seen in him in a long, long time. You swallowed, nodding. Despite the fact Saeran hadn’t been touching himself, you could see the outline of his erection pushing through the fabric of his robes.

Lying there on the altar surrounded by candlelight, waiting to be taken, you felt somewhat sacrificial. What you were sacrificing, you weren’t sure, but you’d offer it up to him in a heartbeat if only he’d ask. You watched through half-lidded eyes as Saeran used one hand to unzip the bottom half of his robe and trousers, and the other slowly insert two fingers into you. You stifled a small moan at the pleasant intrusion and then failed to stifle further moans as he began moving his fingers inside of you, pressing up against your sweet spot. It continued like that for a minute for so while he began to lightly touch himself with his free hand.

‘I’ll… take you to salvation. I’ll save you.’ He said, almost sadly. You didn’t have time to question that slight melancholic tone in his voice before he pulled his fingers out of you, pulling you by the hips right to the edge of the altar. Saeran lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself in, watching for any discomfort on your face. Since he had already taken the time to relax and prepare you, there wasn’t any pain except for a slight burn as you adjusted to the size of him filling you.

He waited for you to sigh in approval before he started moving, taking his time in thrusting in and out of you, and then again and again. You covered your face in embarrassment, knowing that he was watching your reactions from where he was standing. He took your wrists, pulling them off your face and brought them down to where he was holding your hips so that you couldn’t hide your face from him. He wanted to see, he wanted to see it all.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to each thrust. You couldn’t believe that this was happening, and yet you had to. All of your senses were screaming that it was happening, and that it felt so good. Truly, you’d never be able to look at this Chapel the same way next time everyone was called to Sermon. You could hear Saeran’s sweet sighs filling the air. They were quiet and tentative, but most definitely present.

You arched your back as you dreamily opened your eyes, gazing up into the stained-glass window once again. The moonlight shone through the colourful glass, illuminating the rainbow of colours, and casting beautiful shades across Saeran’s face and robes. In a moment of lost bliss, your mind wandered to how beautiful Saeran looked painted in those colours, almost like he was a stained-glass portrait himself. Despite the myriad of shades tinting his skin, it never took away from the ice in his eyes. Saeran’s blue pierced through even a kaleidoscope of colour. You thought about uttering a prayer for him now, to thank someone, anyone, that he had returned to you: even in this manner. Before you managed to speak, Saeran’s words called your attention to him, the ghost of a sneer almost on his face. He could tell.

‘Were you about to pray for me? To pray for my damned soul?’ He asked while continuing to thrust into you at a godless speed. You struggled to speak for a few seconds, seeing as your body was so desperately calling all of your focus elsewhere. You didn’t even realise that you were staring into his face as he fucked you like this, waiting for your answer.

‘Do you wan-want me to?’ You tried to get the words out as he pounded into you again and again.

‘It’s too late… for that.’ He furrowed his brows, before picking up his speed once again, pulling you by the thighs to meet his thrusts. There was a slight amount of sweat beginning to glisten on his forehead and his panting was noticeably heavy as the tiredness was starting to creep up on him.

He shifted from his standing position to bending over you, so he could support himself on his forearms as he continued to bring you closer and closer to your apparent ‘Salvation’. You wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him know how much you needed him right then and there.

Saeran’s face was only a few inches from your own, his warm breath falling over you in waves as he moved. It was at this distance that he averted his eyes from you, clearly feeling some degree of embarrassment or shame. He leant down, as though to kiss you, but then buried his face into the crook of your neck instead. You cradled one arm around his head and the other sprawled across his back, just to make sure he knew you were there, for any of him, and all of him.

You bit your lip to quieten the moans falling from your mouth because you felt guilty about moaning right into his ear. As soon as he realised what you were doing, he left the crook of your neck and began hovering over you again, purposely thrusting harder than he was before:

‘I want to hear. Nothing can be hidden from me in this place.’ The voice that came from him was quiet, yet possessive. Of course, you would oblige. Not that you really had a choice seeing as his rhythm was almost merciless.

Another orgasm was coming at you hard and fast, the pressure in your abdomen building to the point of pain. You cried out his name in a string of prayers as you begged for him to keep going, you were so close and was desperate to finish. The sadistic streak in Saeran thoroughly relished in the sight of you coming utterly undone beneath him, but he knew that his own body could not savour the thrill for much longer as he was nearing his own climax too. He hadn’t previously commented on how tight you were, but you being so close had gotten to the point of nearly suffocating him.

He leant down and captured your lips in another kiss, a needy and desperate one. There were so many words he could have used to describe the way he felt when he kissed you, and yet there were none at all. It was intoxicating for him to be flooded with not only his emotions, but the rushed emotions of both Ray and Saeran too.

To his surprise, the kiss was what you needed to finish. You felt yourself finish so suddenly that all you could do was cry out, your voice echoing throughout the Chapel. Any Believers outside would have heard it, even through the sounds of the pouring rain. You were absolutely numb to everything except for the feeling of your high and the continuous thrusting that was almost torturing you into hypersensitivity. It felt so fucking good, and you could have joked about seeing the Gates of Heaven if not for the fact that you were still being fucked through the orgasm.

Feeling you cum so violently immediately sent Saeran over the edge. He couldn’t hold on any longer.

‘F-fuck, I’m gonna-’ He started, his arms visibly shaking. He waited to see if you were going to loosen your grip on his waist to let him pull out, but when you didn’t, he took it as a sign to keep going freely. He bucked his hips against you, shaking the surrounding candles slightly, cursing as he also finished. He froze for a few seconds of his orgasm before slowly continuing to move, just to prolong his own high for that little bit longer. He was full of sweet sighs as his own peak came in waves, filling you completely.

He collapsed onto your chest while still inside you, and you tiredly wrapped your arms around him, pressing kisses into his pale hair. In the quiet night air, the only sounds were the rain hitting against the window and the breath shared between the both of you. His face felt very warm on your skin and you supposed it was due to the thickness of his Savior garments and the sheer physical exercise he had been doing. Your breathing started to mellow out and shortly Saeran pulled out of you, choosing to lay down on the altar besides you.

You silently shuffled closer to him, not quite finding the words to express how you feel about what just happened. Saeran didn’t seem to have much to say either, but you were well aware that the Saeran in front of you was not one for many words. Maybe he didn’t need words. He spent a lot of time in his own head that he was probably trying to rationalise and process what happened in his own time. You were a little anxious in the silence.

‘Do… you regret it?’ You asked nervously.

‘Do you?’ He countered in a sigh, his eyes closed as he faced upwards. You glanced up to look at him, watching as the shadows from the raindrops on the window reflected onto his face. A single shadowed tear rolled down the window, and it looked like he was crying a black tear, but it was only an illusion.

‘No. I don’t regret you. Any of you.’ You whispered, kissing the part of his shoulder that you were next to. Saeran always looked as though he was in pain, but in that moment he looked so peaceful. There were no furrowed brows, no frown lines or melancholic eyes, he looked his age. Right then, he didn’t have to be The Savior, he didn’t even have to be Saeran. You wanted to ask what to do next, since you were exhausted and feeling the need for a shower, but before you did Saeran said:

‘I will summon some Believers to walk you back to your room. It’s late. I’m going to remain here for a while longer.’

‘Ah okay… Can I ask a question?’ You leant up onto your side.

‘Go on.’

‘Who… gave me this?’ You tugged at the black chemise you had been given beforehand. Saeran opened his eyes slightly just to look at what you were referencing before saying:

‘Ray wanted to give you a gift. I thought you’d look best in black.’ He closed his eyes once more. You slid yourself off the altar, moving to press a kiss to his forehead.

‘Thank you. Goodnight, Saeran.’

‘For Paradise.’

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #saeran choi x reader #saeran choi #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger hc #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger headcanon #saeran ae #saviour saeran #savior saeran

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sugas-sweetheart · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request headcannons for a soulmate AU for Bakugo and Sero with a fem reader? An AU where everyone has a timer on their wrist counting down to the second they meet their soulmate? Thank you!

A/N: ahh yes! I love a soulmate au 🥰 and I’m always up for Sero content - I’m sorry that it’s been a few months since this was requested but I’m working through requests before I go back to irl school! proof reading is for cowards apparently bc i felt like just posting these lmao

Countdowns

Bakugou Katsuki

I feel like people would expect Bakugou to not care much about the timer on his wrist but really it plagues his mind. In a good way, and sometimes a bad way.

He checks it constantly when he’s alone in his room studying or about to go to sleep, and on sleepless nights

He sneaks a look at it during class most days

When he was young he figured out what day the timer would run out and now that it’s reached a few weeks away he’s scared

But he’s also very excited.

Having strong attachments sometimes gave heroes strength, but it would also be a weakness and his biggest fear was hurting his soulmate due to his occupation of choice.

What if they were taken as a hostage? they would take the one person that he’s been excited to meet for years and use that attachment against him.

It would give him motivation to work, he would want to be able to protect you, if you ever needed it

Ahe timer was ticking and his anxieties and worries were still growing. He was still a teenager, he was still in the hero course.

Would his soulmate like heroes? Is he going to live an unconventional life and have to betray his soulmate because they’re a villain? Maybe they were a hero as well? Were you older? Younger?

His morning started out okay, a little more annoying than usual.

His friends procrastination and antics led to him yelling at them to not be late

And in a slightly annoyed mood he left before them to get to class early.

He had almost forgotten that today would be the day he meets his soulmate in his rush but the thought still lingered in the back of his mind.

Adjusting his school uniform to see his timer, his eyes widened at the mere seconds that were left and ticking down quickly

He swore that he hadn’t seen anyone else in the corridor with him before he looked down so who was he meant to be meeting?

Unknown to the boy with the explosion quirk, you had just come out of one of the rooms along the corridor after being given directions to your new classroom, 2B, where one of your new classmates, Kendo, would show you to your dorm and around the school’s facilities.

Your first reaction was to think that Kendo might be your soulmate, depending on how long the directions would take for you to follow.

But in your clouded mind of watching the timer tick down whilst trying to memorise the directions given to you, you didn’t notice the blonde that was also walking towards you.

A fairly harsh force knocked you back and made you stop in the corridor, scared and excited to look up because your timer had just glowed slightly as it faded back to black with only zeros left.

Bakugou hesitated to look up for a few awkward seconds before clearing his throat and directing his eyes back up from his wrist to see who his soulmate really was.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before? I’m Bakugou Katsuki, from class 2A”

You looked up to meet his eyes and give the blonde in front of you a look over, he was cute and seemed slightly flustered.

“I’m new, transferring into 2B today, I guess I’ll see you around, Bakugou”

“Do I even get to know the name of my soulmate?”

“Meet me at lunch and maybe you can find out, soulmate”

Sero Hanta

Sero would be very excited from when he was young

He would constantly check his timer as if it would magically run out quicker the more he watched it, because time definitely worked like that

He had dreamt about it since he was a kid, finally having the one, someone who would love him forever because he’s him and no one else.

He never thought about if you were to be a villain, he’d find a way to work around it either way, to make you two work, you were meant for each other after all.

Many of his friends had found their soulmates during high school, but he was set to meet his during his first couple years as a professional hero.

Being a young hero, aged 20, and only being out of UA’s hero course for just over a year, he had to work hard to work his way up until he made a large enough name for himself to set up his own agency, or to open one with his group of friends.

Knowing that he was destined to meet his soulmate during his hero work meant that he had a few worries along with it.

Was he meant to save you? Were you a villain? and while he promised himself he would make it work even if his soulmate was a villain.There were strict hero rules surrounding the situation in which your soulmate was a villain.

Hoping that it was the former and that he was to save you, it was a drive for him.

You gave him a reason to work hard, without even knowing each other.

He knew you were out there somewhere and he wanted to be able to protect you as best he could and he put his all into training.

What he didn’t expect when he went the entirety of his high school years not meeting you, was for you to also be a hero.

It was a big mission that they had been planning for days and collecting surveillance and data on the targets, and his agency would be teaming up with two others to take down one of the largest powerhouse groups of villains.

Upon meeting the other agency that were helping them surround the stronghold, he was taken to meet up with the others that heavily involved in the case.

Being in his hero suit it was difficult for him to remember how many minutes and seconds were left before he put it on, because all day he had been scared of you being a citizen caught in the crossfire or on the villains side.

Upon being taken to a group near the back where there stood Fatgum, Tamaki, Kirishima and an unknown hero he stopped in his tracks after locking eyes with you, the unknown hero.

Kirishima, about to greet his friend quickly realised why you were simply staring at each other because he had calmed the both of you separately at some point in the last 24 hours before this mission when worrying about who your soulmate was going to be.

He laughed lightly at his two friends and pulled the others away gently to let you two talk.

“So, you felt the timer run out too?” He was still slightly stunned.

“Yeah.”

“Would you want to get dinner and get to know each other after this missions finished?”

“I think I’d love that, cellophane.”

taglist: @justamultifandomfan16 @shoutamajiki @meliorist-midoriya @goopyartiste @yee-harr @bizzoldmann-08 @katsushimaa @mystic-helena @spookykiri @hannahalanib1 @boosyboo9206 @derpeedoo @sazunari

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alccaddsccup · 3 years ago

Text

more than a massage

this is my idea of what would’ve happened if Zoey didn’t interrupt the massage scene in ch10

ina x mc

warning: smut

Bea leads Ina into her bedroom before gently closing the door. As Ina surveys her new surroundings, Bea silently slips out of her clothes until she remains only in her underwear. When Ina’s eyes finally settle on Bea, her eyes widen and a subtle blush creeps along her cheeks

“Bea, I-“

“Hey you can’t get a proper massage through fabric, right?” Bea smiles cheekily at Ina (she knows exactly what she’s doing to the woman)

Ina hums nonchalantly whilst doing her best to pull her eyes away from the smooth slope of Bea’s breasts “I suppose you’re right”

Bea settles herself face down on the bed, with her cheek resting on her hands. After only a moment of hesitation, Ina straddles Bea, resting gently on her thighs. She begins to move her hands slowly along the muscles of Bea’s shoulders

“Oh, and one more thing” Bea unclasps her bra and holds her breath in anticipation of Ina’s reaction. She hears a quiet gasp and Ina breathes out an “oh ” under her breath before sliding the palms of her hands across the bare expanse of Bea’s back (bingo!!!)

Her strokes begin tentatively but after a few minutes, Ina pushes her hands more firmly into Bea’s muscles.

“how’s that?”

“I think you could go lower, that area needs a lot of... attention” Ina begins to trace delicate lines along the waistband of Bea’s underwear

“mhm, i bet it does”

Bea lets out a gentle hum as Ina digs her hands into the muscles of her lower back, touching the flesh of her backside. A sudden warmth is felt along Bea’s back as Ina leans down to whisper in her ear

“better?”

“much” Bea sighs contentedly, although the sigh is quickly replaced by a sharp gasp as Ina lets her hands slide round to graze the curve of her breasts. Her hands disappear as quickly as they came, which only leaves Bea wanting more

“y’know, you could always let yourself relieve some tension”

Ina hums in response as she begins to gently rock back and forth on Bea’s ass. The heat of Ina can be felt by Bea, who feels a similar warmth bloom between her own thighs

“is this what you had in mind?” Ina leans towards Bea’s ear as she says this, letting her breasts press firmly into Bea’s back

“hmm, not quite.”

Ina raises herself above Bea so that Bea can sit up before lowering herself back down and resuming her rocking motion along Bea’s front this time. Ina can’t help but notice the way Bea’s loose bra barely conceals her breasts, a flash of nipple poking out the top every time Ina rocks back. The temptation is too much to resist as Ina places both her hands underneath Bea’s bra and delicately plays with both her nipples

“ahh, Ina!” Bea lets out a surprised gasp as Ina’s warm hands massage her hard flesh

“tell me what you want me to do”

“I want you to take off your clothes” Ina abruptly stops touching Bea and meets her eyes. She knows in that moment, if things progress further she won’t be able to stop. The pair gaze at each other, tension filling the air as Ina debates internally

“fuck it, we’ve already gone this far” Ina stands and begins to shimmy out of her skirt. Bea goes to help Ina remove her clothes but is shoved back on the bed by a hand on her chest

“just watch” Ina turns around and bends over as she slides her skirt down her legs, giving Bea a magnificent view. She unclasps her bra and drops it to the floor before turning around and slowly crawling up Bea’s body

“you’re breathtaking” Bea scans the entirety of Ina’s body, memorising all the dips and curves, before pulling Ina into a passionate kiss with one finger on her chin. Ina slips her tongue into Bea’s mouth whilst resuming her grinding on Bea’s thigh. Bea traces her hands delicately up Ina’s sides before coming across her front to massage her breasts. Ina moans gently at the contact then trails a line of kisses down her neck to scrape her teeth along Bea’s collarbone

“mm, Ina?”

“yes Bea?” Ina halts her kissing to look Bea in the eye

“I- I want you to taste me” Heat fills Bea’s face as she says this, but she doesn’t break eye contact with Ina who’s eyes dilate with desire. She nips at Bea’s earlobe before whispering in her ear

“ you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that”

Ina gently pushes Bea back so that she’s leaning against the headboard then trails a line of fiery kisses down Bea’s body, with her hands trailing shortly after. When her lips reach Bea’s underwear, she plants a soft kiss where Bea needs her and snakes a finger inside the fabric to feel Bea’s wetness

“oh, you’re so ready for me already” she places another kiss on Bea’s waistband before helping her slide out of her panties. Ina then traces featherlight kisses up Bea’s inner thighs, giving the occasional nip, but is quickly interrupted by an insistent hand on her head pulling her lips towards Bea’s centre. Ina chuckles

“someone’s impatient” Bea doesn’t reply as she continues to pull Ina towards where she needs her and she gasps at the feeling of Ina’s lips pressed against her folds. Ina moves her tongue slowly around Bea’s clit before pushing her tongue deep inside Bea. This movement of her tongue makes Bea grip Ina’s hair hard

“oh my god Ina!” Bea begins to move her hips as Ina’s tongue continues to explore her and she can feel her release approaching fast. As the tension builds inside of Bea, her hips move more erratically and she pulls harder on Ina’s hair who groans at the sharp tug

“I’m so close” Ina meets Bea’s eyes whilst continuing her relentless pace with her tongue which is enough to push Bea over the edge and she cries out Ina’s name loudly as she climaxes.

After a few moments, Ina crawls up Bea’s body to snuggle next to her, with her head on her chest

“that wasn’t quite a massage, was it?”

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise of no funny business” Ina laughs loudly before placing a tender kiss on Bea’s cheek

“you’ve no need to apologise, I found that rather enjoyable” Just then, the front door of the dorm opens and slams before someone proclaims loudly

“Bea, darling, I have a mini bottle of prosecco here with your name on it”

“oh shit, it’s Zoey” Ina hastily disentangles herself from Bea before throwing her clothes back on. Meanwhile, Bea puts on a robe and opens her bedroom door to see if Zoey is still in the main living area

“Ina quick, Zoey’s in her room” Ina rushes to retrieve her wet shirt and quickly ties it back on before going to leave. At the last second she turns and gives Bea a gentle kiss

“I’ll be in the RA’s office if you need me”

and just like that, she was gone

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices #queen b #choices queen b #choices qb #ina x mc #ina kingsley x mc #ina kingsley #professor kingsley #professor ina kingsley

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panda9584 · 3 years ago

Text

To the Stars

By usuallysunny on ao3

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Chloe Decker

Summary: “Maybe it was last night. Or the night before on the balcony, when you were up against the—” ...a missing scene

Warnings: !NSFW!

Notes: A missing scene from season six that the Lucifer writers robbed us of. We want balcony sex!! The lovely usuallysunny on ao3 has given us the scene we’ve all been asking for :)

Words: 2708

You can read below ⬇️ or read on ao3 (link above)

It doesn’t surprise her anymore, the heady way Lucifer looks at her.

He’s looked at her many different ways over the years.

When they first started working together, he looked at her like she was a puzzle for him to figure out, dark eyes curious and intrigued. As they turned from unlikely colleagues to even more unlikely friends, that look softened around the edges. She remained fascinating to him, just out of his reach, but as he memorised her coffee order, and added her favourite 90s playlist to his sound system, he became more interested in actually knowing her, what made her tick.

As they became closer still, brought together by a crazy professor and a poison that danced her on the edge of death, she began to see a spark that was more than lust in his eyes. Somewhere along the way, between the banter that set her teeth on edge, and all the cases to solve, he had grown to care for her. Desire still blazed behind his eyes, glittering mischievous and wild, and she still tried her hardest to fight it—but he stopped trying to sleep with her, and started trying to be with her. In all the ways that count.

In the uncomfortable year after Cain and before Eve, she started to hate the way he looked at her. She couldn’t see the care or affection anymore, muted by pain and betrayal. But the longing was still there, keeping her on a precipice, dangling a carrot, not allowing her to let go. It’s the most shameful thing in her life, what happened with Kinley. She remembers that night in the penthouse, when he’d asked her if she could accept him. She hadn’t been ready then, and remembering that look—dark eyes glistening wet with so much hurt—makes her feel a little sick.

Chloe hopes he never looks at her that way again.

There’s so much reverence in his eyes when he looks at her now. He can freely admit he loves her, it no longer lodges in his throat, tangled in excuses. He’s lost her too, felt her die in his arms, and died for her in return. He looks at her like she’s something sacred, something to hold onto, and while it no longer surprises her, the intensity of it still takes Chloe’s breath away.

Through it all, no matter the time or place, the look is always tinged with want. He’s Lucifer Morningstar, after-all, and desire is his playground.

The look he sends her now as he prowls towards her, bathed in the soft yellow hues of the elevator behind him, clenches heat in the pit of her belly.

Her mouth feels too dry as she walks backwards towards the balcony, feeling very much like prey. She wonder if she can be called such if she wants it so much. She wants him to devour her, to crawl inside her, to become one with her and never let go.

“I thought you wanted desert,” her voice sounds deeper, huskier, in her ears as he continues to close the gap between them.

That’s what he’d said at the restaurant anyway, carelessly tossing a few hundreds down as he insisted they’d finish their meal at home. She’d expected him to drop her off at the penthouse and slip down to the outrageous kitchen that covers the entirety of floor 42. Then he’d return with some brownies, or ice cream, and yes, they’d probably eat it off each other’s bodies, but that’s besides the point.

“I do,” he insists as she steps backwards onto the balcony, cool night air hitting her body. Almost immediately, she feels her nipples pebble under her dress, a faint tremor shivering over her skin.

His dark eyes, pupils already blown to black, drop to between her thighs.

Her breath catches, molten heat pooling in the pit of her belly when she realises what he means. So she is to be prey then, she thinks wryly, as he steps outside with her and backs her up against the balcony’s railing.

He leans in, surrounding her in a cloud of whiskey and smoke. His mouth skims her jaw, warm lips trailing to her ear.

“Hold on,” he orders in a silken purr, accentuating it with a soft bite on her earlobe. His mouth curves into a smirk at the shudder that races down her spine.

She does as she’s told, her slightly shaking hands travelling to grasp the railing either side of her.

He straightens, his hands trailing an electric path down her sides until he firmly grips her hips. Then he lifts her, planting her on the balcony’s edge.

“Lucifer!” she gasps, her stomach dropping as she takes in the bustling LA nightlife below.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got you,” he croons, “I’d never let you fall.”

She swallows, turning her head back to face him. She has a death grip on his shoulders, made tighter by Amenadiel’s rod hanging from a chain behind her bullet, and she looks into his eyes. They shine sincere, blown wide with desire and so much love, and she trusts him.

“Yeah, you too,” she says softly, her words taking on a deeper meaning.

He smiles, genuine and momentarily devoid of seduction, before he leans in to let his lips brush against hers. She sighs, her heart stuttering in her chest. They’ve kissed hundreds of times now—from passionate, tangling tongues to a simple peck goodnight—and every time feels like the first.

Her hands travel from his shoulders to his face, feeling the rasp of his neatly trimmed beard under her palms. His own hands fit at her waist, holding her securely as he finally kisses her properly. His lips are warm and firm as they glide over hers, his tongue slick and probing as he runs it over her bottom lip. He swallows the moan she doesn’t mean to make as she opens her mouth and their tongues connect.

Every slide of his tongue against hers sends a spark of heat between her thighs. She shifts on the balcony’s edge, needing to rub them together, to relieve the ache. Her fingers dance to the nape of his neck, playing with the soft curls there. He hums in pleasure, the sound vibrating against her lips and intensifying the ache in her core.

He tugs her closer, stepping between her thighs as she spreads them wider. With one hand on the small of her back, he pushes her into him, letting her feel the evidence of his desire. She breaks away from his mouth with a moan, tipping her head back as she rolls her hips against his thick erection.

He kisses her cheek, her jaw, her neck, down to the hollow of her throat.

When he drags his mouth back to her ear, she’s breathless, and he’s panting, and he sounds utterly wrecked as he murmurs, “I want to taste you.”

A shiver that has nothing to do with the cool LA air passes through her.

“Please,” she whispers.

“I’m so glad you wore a dress,” he can’t help but quip as he slowly sinks to the floor, crooning his next words behind her knee, “now we just need to work on those crotchless panties, hmm?”

Chloe smirks, rolling her eyes to the sky.

“Not happening, Lucifer.”

“A devil can dream,” he sighs, and slowly draws her panties, crotch and all, down her legs.

She shivers again when her pussy is exposed to the night air.

“Always so wet for me,” he murmurs, as though he’s talking more to himself than to her, and skims his nose along the crease where her thigh meets her groin.

“Yes,” she whispers, her fingers tightening around the railing, “for you. Only for you.”

He gives a pleased little hum, one hand coming up to bunch the fabric of her dress in a fist of silk at her back. He holds it there, and holds her steady, as two fingers of the other hand swipe over her slit. She gasps at the first contact, her breath catching in her throat.

She’s close to begging again when he finally slides his tongue over her. Her hips arch towards him, her toes curling into cool glass, her fingers gripping the railing so tight, she’s sure she can hear the whine of bending metal.

He doesn’t seem to mind, focused on the task at hand as his talented mouth wrings out her pleasure. The sounds he makes as he eats her out border on obscene, thick growls and low groans and hot sucks as he focuses his attention on her clit. Her thighs tremble around his head and she glances down. She catches a shock of black curls against tanned thighs and she dares to lift a hand from the railing to tangle in his hair.

Over the past few months, she’s come to learn what he likes, so she’s not surprised when she tugs at his curls and he growls into her cunt, spurred on by the sting of half-pleasure, half-pain. His tongue rolls over her, hot and slippery slick, and her moan is almost a sob by the time he slips two fingers inside her.

He pumps them languidly, crooking them in a come-hither motion as his mouth returns to her clit. He takes the hard little nub between his lips and sucks hard. She cries out, cloaked by the privacy of being hundreds of feet in the air. She wonders if she’d care if she wasn’t. It’s difficult to see clearly when he’s making her eyes roll.

“Lucifer,” she sobs his name like a prayer, the only religion she clings to, as she feels herself approaching the edge, “please… I’m gonna—”

Desire strangles her throat. He hums, fucking her faster with his fingers as he licks at her.

“That’s it, baby,” he purrs, the pet-name one he only uses during sex, “come for me.”

She faintly registers the snap of his wings as she does.

Her orgasm rushes through her, exploding with a force that makes her arch her back a little too far. She sways for just a moment, not even long enough to panic, before there’s a flash of brilliant white and one of his wings is behind her, catching her as she rides the wave. The feathers tickle at her, intensifying the sensation, as he growls into her heat.

She shudders, her body shaking in the afterglow, and he laps at her lazily until she has to push him away through oversensitivity.

His wings are still surrounding her, casually cradling and caressing her, as she comes back down to earth.

He rises to his feet, brushing off his expensive Armani and adjusting his cuffs. She feels a heat rise in her cheeks at the sight of his lower face, his mouth and chin glistening with her juices. She watches him shamelessly lick his lips, his eyes black.

“God,” she breathes, still shaking.

“Not quite yet,” he smirks, before he arches a brow and asks, “good?”

She laughs, a blissed out smile curving on her lips.

“You don’t need me to stroke your ego,” she says as she reaches for his belt, not waiting for him to undoubtedly reply with a quip about stroking something else.

She slides down from the railing on trembling legs, fingers working on his buckle. Her hair billows as he shrugs his shoulders and furls his wings. The silence is deafening, the air pulsing hot and heavy between them, as she draws his belt from the loops and drops it onto the floor with a clink.

Fresh desire sparks between her legs when he kisses her and she tastes herself on his lips, tangy and tart. She breaks away to kiss his neck, taking in his masculine scent, all scotch and smoke and expensive cologne that clings to his throat. He groans, fingers flexing at her waist. With all his strength and power, she loves making him moan for her.

They kiss again as she pushes his jacket off his shoulders, uncaring as it floats to the floor in a pool of expensive Armani. She works on his buttons next, trying to keep her fingers from shaking, but he’s never exactly been the most patient of men. He’s loud, and unapologetic, and what he wants, he takes.

And what he wants right now is to be buried inside her.

So he leaves his shirt and her dress on, and he only bothers to pull his hard length out of his slacks. She barely has time to register him giving it a few pumps before he’s turning her around and bending her over the railing.

Clearly he’s in a dominant mood tonight, and it turns her on, her thighs turning slick again. His hands are a little rougher, a little less careful, now he knows she has Amenadiel’s necklace. She feels its power rush through her, heady and addictive. She pushes back, pushing her ass into his groin and grinding against his rigid length.

He mutters a curse into her hair. She grabs onto the balcony railing as he prepares her with his fingers again, and then she feels the head of his cock push against her dripping entrance.

“Please,” she begs, breathed into the cool night air.

“Please what, darling?”

Bastard, she thinks, but she says—

“Please fuck me.”

He breaches her, sliding his cock inside. They both groan at the contact, quickly fitting into a steady rhythm. She meets him thrust for thrust, feeling him withdraw almost entirely before he pushes back in. One hand holds her hip, angling her for his thrusts, while the other comes to lay on top of hers, entwined fingers curling over the balcony.

“You like that, Chloe?” he purrs, her name dripping from his lips like sin as his hips snap behind her, “you like being fucked out here in the open?”

She moans, slightly surprised at how his words turn her on. She knows he’s vastly experienced, has probably had sex in every position, invented most of them, and he’s probably a master at dirty talk—but for her, it’s all very new.

“Yes,” she confirms breathily, hooded eyes focused on the twinkling lights of the city below, “yes, Lucifer. Right there.”

He hums his approval, both hands flying to her hips. It falls silent save for her pants and his grunts, and when he slaps her ass, the sound of flesh on flesh pierces the air.

“Fuck,” the moan glides out of her without her permission, “again.”

He obeys as he gives her another smack, a thick sound rolling from his chest—half a moan, half a delighted chuckle. She imagines the red imprint his hand will leave behind and clenches around his length.

His thrusts turn long and deep, the angle hitting the perfect spot inside her. Her breath hitches as he slips a hand up to her throat, pulling her up, back against his chest. Her fingers remain curled around the railing, her head rolling against his shoulder.

He keeps a loose grip around her neck and turns her face to kiss him. Her lips tremble against his as she feels that coil inside her snap again, her orgasm rushing over her. Her tightening cunt milks his own orgasm from him and she feels his cock jerk and pulse as he comes, moaning into her mouth. He fucks her in shallow thrusts as they come back down, some of his cum sliding down her inner thigh as he pulls out.

“I love you,” he murmurs after a moment, just because he can. Just because it’s easy now.

She smiles and kisses his lips, “I love you too.”

Then she glances upwards, and thinks of the strange angel who had flown into her life a few days before.

Maybe this is how we made her, she wonders absently, another lightbringer created under the stars he put in the sky.

Two days later, when Rory and Lucifer meet again, something rare and fragile blossoming between them, Lucifer recalls, “maybe it was last night. Or the night before on the balcony, when you were up against the—”

And like a feeling stuck deep in her chest, Chloe just knows it was.

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer fandom #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer finale spoilers #rory decker morningstar #deckerstar #chloe decker #detective decker #lucifer netflix #deckerstar smut #ao3 fanfic #lucifer ao3

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schmuckyschmarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Daffodil

anon request: I have a request if that's okay. Could you maybe write about Bucky protecting the reader from some douchebag in a bar?

warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted physical touching (hand on thigh/leg) author notes: this ended up being a lot longer than i intended, i hope this is at least close to what you were after, but if you’d like me to make any changes, please feel free to let me know!! i included a best friend character and tried not to use any names so it sounds a bit clunky but the y/n ybfn abbreviations always kill it for me when i’m reading so i hope this is ok!! edit: i forgot to mention i also wasn’t sure if you wanted them to already know each other so i wrote a kind of pre-meeting so you could have it both ways

There was a chill in the air as you hurried down the street, half walking-half running, your heels tapping sharply against the concrete. An aggressive series of vibrations interrupted your thoughts and you fumbled for a moment, attempting to balance the large bouquet of flowers you were holding in one hand so that you could retrieve your cell phone from the pocket of your trench coat. The brown paper rustled noisily against you as you finally grabbed your phone, sliding the bar across the screen and putting it to your ear.

“Hey! I’ll be outside in just a sec, I’m so sorry I’m running late!” you said immediately, feeling heavy with the litany of apologies that you would relay until you arrived at your destination.

You were met with a happy laugh on the other end of the line. “How long have we been friends? Did you think I’d wait for you to get started?” your friend teased, and you could hear the beginnings of a slur licking softly at her words.

“I’m offended that you wouldn’t wait for me, you said you would this time!” you accused, biting at a smile as you crossed the road. A car sped around the corner, tires screeching, and the driver slammed down on the horn as he approached you. “Oh piss off!” you called, as the car continued to honk after you'd skipped out of the way.

“And you said you’d be on time!” your friend giggled, oblivious to your rage-fuelled exchange. She had you there.

“I did say that,” you relented, as you walked up the footpath, your destination in sight. “Okay babe, I’m outside, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!” she shrieked, and you moved the phone away from your ear, wincing.

The bar you’d decided to meet at was an old favourite. Busy enough that you weren’t uncomfortably visible, but not too rowdy. Perfect for catch ups and your favourite game, people watching.

As you reached your hand to pull the door open, it swung at you, and a body collided with yours.

“Oh shit-”

“Fuck-”

You felt an arm wrap itself around you as your heel wobbled, and when you opened one eye, face scrunched up (still bracing yourself for what you considered an inevitable fall) you found yourself mesmerised by a shade of striking blue. The stranger steadied you, releasing you from his grip. You opened your second eye, taking a step back sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, that was all me,” he interrupted, his hand pushing through the long waves of hair that had fallen into his face. “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

He was gorgeous, sharp lines and stubble and pink lips that stood out against the otherwise dark shadows. A black t-shirt stretched itself over his broad shoulders, and a pale blue long sleeved collared shirt sat loosely over the top, buttons abandoned and sleeves rolled halfway, giving way to the black gloves on his hands.

“Good reflexes, though,” you noted, moving out of the way of a couple who wanted to head in. “They make it look so easy,” you said, sighing dramatically as the couple disappeared into the bar without incident, and the stranger laughed. It was warm and deep, and you could’ve sworn you felt it reverberating in your own chest when you saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Maybe one day we’ll get the hang of it,” he joked, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He could feel the moment slipping. You tilted towards the door, and he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted to memorise you, and as his eyes ran over you a frown settled over his features, his face darkening. “Aw jeez, I ruined your flowers,” he groaned, clearly distressed. You looked down to find that a few of the petals had been crushed, but all things considered, they’d held together pretty well. An overwhelming desire to comfort this complete stranger seized you.

“Oh hey, no, it’s okay!” you said. “Look, if we just-” and you pulled off a few of the sad-looking petals, “see, they’re good as new!” You waved them proudly in his direction and a single daffodil drooped sadly to the side. “Okay, they’re good as new except for this one,” you amended, pulling the offending stem out, and he chuckled, face brightening once more.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he stated, as he took in the fresh-looking bouquet, and something in his voice made you think he could say anything and you'd believe it.

“Ah, miracle worker is my day job,” you said, smiling. “I’ve got to get these flowers to the person I bought them for, but here, a souvenir of our time together-” you broke the stem off of the single daffodil you were still holding, throwing the long end to the side, and threading the crumpled flower through one of the open buttonholes of his long sleeve shirt, your palm resting for the briefest second on his chest.

"I knew my outfit was missing something. Thanks, doll,” he joked.

"Anytime..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"James," he supplied, putting out his hand and then looking down at the glove with uncertainty. It seemed important to him. You took his hand in yours and shook it.

"Anytime, James," you finished, turning to the door. "Okay...take 2," you said, adjusting the flowers and pulling the door toward you.

"Wait," he called out, and you turned back, holding the door open. "What's your name?"

The chatter from the bar swallowed the sound of your voice as you answered him. You watched his lips mouth it, repeating it to himself as if he was determined to remember, and you smiled one last time at him before finally stepping inside.

You’re immediately hit with a wave of warmth, bodies huddled close together, legs sprawled beneath booths, hanging off of stools, hands gripping and fingers holding loosely, glasses that all glinted in the comfortable low light. A screech from across the room startles you and when your eyes find the source, you can’t help but smile. You begin to make your way over but you’re immediately hit by an assortment of limbs, this time you move the flowers off to the side.

“You came!” she shrieked, arms latched around your neck, a few people nearby looked up at the commotion before returning to their conversations.

“I came!” you laughed, squeezing your best friend. “Congratulations, you badass, you deserve this promotion so much.”

“I really do,” she nodded solemnly as she released you. “I’ve worked-” she hiccuped “-so hard.”

“You really have,” you agreed. “This should’ve happened a lot sooner but I’m so happy for you, these are for you.” You thrust the bouquet toward her, and she gasps, taking them in one hand and looping her arm through yours as she leads you to the table she had occupied.

“They’re so pretty, I love them,” she gushed, and you laughed again, amused at how sweet and affectionate she was when she had been drinking. “Listen, Jake’s here,” she said, waving at the man in question, slowing down before you reached him, “and we might not stay too long because to be honest with you, I gotta get laid, babe, it’s getting dusty down there.”

“Girl, it’s your night,” you replied, “I don’t mind at all, we’ll have a few drinks and then you go celebrate properly.”

“Hey Y/N.” Jake said as you finally arrived at the table, standing to give you a quick hug.

“Hey, Jake! How proud are we of our girl here?” you replied, as you removed your coat and settled into your seat.

“Never been more proud,” he answered, throwing his arm around her as she beamed up at him.

The drinks arrive, or, more drinks arrive, and empty glasses are cleared from the table as you catch up, relive what feels like ancient memories, and laugh too hard at stories that continue to hold the title of “funniest thing ever”. After the tenth round of people watching (definitely divorced, owns a cat “-or a bird”, enjoys infomercials and nasty sex), they announced that it was time to leave, and you were shocked to see that almost two hours have passed.

“Enjoy cleaning out the cobwebs,” you said as you hugged goodbye, and she giggled, leaning on her boyfriend for support as they walked out.

You reached for your trench coat, intending to trade the table for the counter when a man sat himself opposite you, and a strong stench of cologne slammed into you.

“Hey,” he said, “can I buy you a drink?” He smiled, and you could tell that it was meant to be charming, but something about it felt...

“Oh…” you began, unsure of how to proceed. Off. It felt off. “I’m okay, thank you, though.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “let me buy you a drink.”

You looked around at the bar and your eyes stopped when you saw him, James, sitting a few tables away, laughing at a joke one of his friends had just made. He had come back?

“I-”

“Just the one,” he said, holding up a single finger and tilting his head to the side.

“Sure,” you replied, unsure of how else to get rid of him. “One drink, okay.”

He was an investment something or other. He liked to golf, he travelled often, his- His tie was distracting you as he spoke, something about the gold and the brown didn’t make any kind of logical sense in your mind and you pondered over it for the entirety of his monologue, sipping gingerly at the drink before you for something to do.

“So what do you do?” he asked, and it caught you off guard. He had been speaking about himself for so long that had it not been a painful experience you might have actually begun to doubt your presence in the conversation. He shifts his chair closer, leaning forward when you reply, and places his hand on the bare skin of your leg. “I think that’s so hot.”

You shift your legs so that his hand falls away, but a few seconds later, it's back, and higher than it had been the first time.

“Hey, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“Oh come on, baby, I bought you a drink, didn’t I? Let’s keep enjoying each other’s company.”

You don’t respond. Your chest filled with panic, your head with static, everywhere else felt as though you’d been dunked in ice. Your eyes moved around the room again frantically, and this time, when you saw James, he was looking at you. His expression shifted as he noticed your own, his head tilted the smallest bit, his eyes flitted to the man beside you, and followed his hand to where it was clamped around your thigh.

He stood abruptly, not excusing himself, and you watched as he approached, ignoring his friends who had called out to him.

As soon as he arrived at your table, you felt the static cease.

“Hey, doll,” he said, his tone casual.

“Excuse me,” the man interrupted, hand still on your thigh. “This table’s taken, we’re getting to know each other here, so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh, I can see that, James interrupted, looking down at the man’s hand. “I see you’re getting to know her real well.”

“Okay, well-”

“I’m going to give you a few seconds, because I’m feeling generous. My friends tell me that counting down helps relieve anger, and honestly, I haven’t found that to be true, but I think if anyone was to benefit from me calming down, it would be you,” James said, voice steady as he placed his hands on the table.

“Dude, you’re literally wearing a flower right now,” he said, smirking at the daffodil still hanging from James’ shirt. The man - Chad? Brad? You couldn’t remember, scoffed as if to say “this guy, am I right?”

The second the sound had left his mouth, Bucky’s gloves had come off. Literally. You saw a flash of silver and then the heat from your leg was removed as the man went flying across the floor of the bar, knocking into some chairs. James looked towards his friends and both gave a single nod as they stood, and made their way over to Chad/Brad, having a quick word with the bartender as they dragged him yelling out of the bar.

“You okay?” James asked, bringing your attention back to him. His gloves were back on, and his hair had fallen into his face.

“Yeah. Yes, I-” and you were cut off by a sound that, you realised a second too late, had come from you. Tears spilled down your cheeks and the air you were expelling left you faster than it could come in. James sat down next to you, and you could tell he was unsure what to do. “Oh my God,” you said, once you could catch your breath. “This is such an overreaction, I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re not overreacting. That asshole was trying to take advantage of you, you have every right to be upset,” he said. Your head dropped down into your arms, and as the tears continued to fall, you briefly wondered when the last time was that this table had been cleaned. “I don’t know what to-” he began. “I’m just gon-” and he stopped again. “You tell me if this isn’t okay,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

“‘S okay,” you said, and he moved in soothing circles as your breathing evened out and your sniffles slowed down. “Sorry for all the crying, it’s just, you always think you’ll know what to do in this kind of situation and when you freeze it’s terrifying like, why can’t I do something right now, you know?�� I mean, you probably don’t know, but-”

“I know,” he said. It was soft, and you believed him.

“Listen, I’m okay,” you said, lifting your head and wiping the tears from your face. “You should get back to your friends, I’m sorry for interrupting your night, you don’t have to comfort me, I’m a complete stranger-”

“What do you mean, ‘complete stranger?’ We go way back,” he said. It caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m going to sit here until you feel okay,” he said. “Because that’s what friends who go way back do, and because I enjoy your company.”

There was quiet as you looked at him, his hand was still resting on your back and he suddenly didn’t know if he should leave it, or move away now that you weren’t crying. His eyes searched yours, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, almost unnoticeably before you spoke.

“I’d like that.”

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Life’s not a movie

Pairing: Spike x fem!chubby!reader

Request: Hello if your requests are still open...how about spike with a chubby reader who is 24 and still a virgin and she is shy and depressed but tries to hide it by acting happy go lucky. She loves his poems and is a good friend to him but she secretly loves him and she finally confesses her feelings to him and he kisses her and it's her first kiss? Maybe they are having a night out as friends which turns into a date when she tells him, and that's how they end up kissing?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hey, so I wanted to simplify reader’s personality a little because not everyone will be able to access something so specific.

Warnings: Mention of sex. I’ve written her a little insecure about her weight (only vaguely mentioned once) and being a virgin/having not kissed anyone (hope that’s okay).

💖 Don’t worry if you haven’t had these experiences yet either, everyone has their own time for everything !! 💖

You and Spike were walking from opposite directions, with the other on your minds. Things with Spike were nice, he made you feel more human. Which, of course was ironic, because he wasn’t even a little bit human. In physicality, at least.

You smiled when you saw him, giving him a little wave. He enjoyed the way your chubby form didn’t appear to make you second-guess yourself. You appeared confident and more so when he was by your side. He especially liked the way you lit up the area you were in, always so cheery when you greeted him. On the surface, at least.

You were very good friends, so good that everyone already just presumed that you were dating. You spent most evenings with him, sometimes watching crappy tv and other evenings reading while Spike wrote poetry.

Some evenings, if you were really lucky, he would let you read them. Only a few he selected (he was very secretive about certain poems you couldn’t see as they were too intimate). You always gushed about how much you loved them, smiling and rereading them - trying to memorise them.

He wished he could read to you the ones he had hidden sometimes. They spoke of deep, unrequited feelings that longed to be free. Feelings for you. Alas, you had never initiated anything or so much as hinted similar feelings. Besides, he enjoyed having you to himself as a friend at least and couldn’t bear to jeopardise this so he just hadn’t acted on it.

You were meeting to go to the Bronze, neither of you realised the feelings the other harboured, but it didn’t stop you both wanting to spend every waking minute with each other. He loved your tummy. Sometimes you felt perhaps a little too big but to him that was a ridiculous thought. You appeared so soft he often imagined himself wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand there. Maybe rubbing his hand sooothingly while you were watching one of those movies he allowed you to pick from the rental store. He was thinking about this as you both sat down and had realised that he was staring at you. Again.

When you both sat down in a booth, he tried his best not to make his loving gaze so obvious - he had a reputation to uphold after all. To make himself feel better, he moved the conversation to something else. He asked about your younger friends, the Scoobies. He did this often, sometimes to try and figure out if they still thought of him as a threat and other times just because it amused him to hear of the often tumultuous teenage drama that the Slayer and her gang got caught up in.

They were doing their coursework tonight, Willow had called it a study-over - the priority was work, not sleep apparently. You were a lot older than them, having met them by coincidence. You got on with them well, but they were a bit younger than you (and they liked to tell you to stay away from spike a lot). You explained what they were up to to Spike, making him snort at how lame the group that used to ruin all of his evil plots were.

“People at that age should be out shagging anything that bloody moves - not sitting in memorising facts about historical events” He saw you shift slightly uncomfortably and paused, before asking, “What? You don’t agree, love?”

“No- it’s, uh, not that-” You say softly, trying to make your mouth stop forming words. But that plan went out of the window as you started to squirm under his stare and continue bashfully, “I, uh, haven’t actually…”

“What?” he asked, not letting it go. his eyes boring into yours. You sighed, deciding to just say it. Like ripping off a plaster.

“I haven’t had sex, Spike. Okay?” there was an edge to your voice as you snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s alright, love... you, uh, don’t have to do anythin’ you’re not wantin’-” he started to reassure you, still confused as he knew the feelings he had for you - so he knew others must have had such feelings over the years.

“That’s not the problem, I want to have sex I just haven’t- haven’t found anyone. Or, well, no one’s found that they like me…”

“Bollocks!” he cut you off abruptly, “Life’s not a movie, pet… it’s not one of those girly flicks you watch when you think I’m sleepin’ in the afternoon... Life can be messy, it can’t be predicted, no matter what the magic voodoo types ‘round here think… so bloody what if you haven’t shagged a bloke yet-?”

“Spike! You’re talking too loud! People are looking!”

“So fucking what? She’s a virgin!” He said louder, but nobody was really paying much attention to either of you, or they at least had enough manners to act as if they hadn’t before you looked up to check, “Who bloody cares?”

“Me spike. I care” You mutter, embarrassment permeating through every pore, “I haven’t even- I haven’t even kissed anyone” you hissed, deciding you might as well get everything out into the open.

“But you’ve been on a date?” He askedslowly, a little frown. You shook your head, no. He was confused. Someone like you he was convinced someone would have taken you out years ago. You were smart, funny and very sweet. He had been convinced you had a boyfriend and cursing this imaginary man as he had been missing you recently. Not realising that you had been trying to sort through your feelings for him.

He shrugged, looked you in the eyes, grabbed your hands from across the table and knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Let’s make this a date then”

“No- Spike you don’t-” you started to

“No arguments. I want to, love. Beautiful woman on my arm for the entire evening – make all the buggers jealous and you can say you’ve been on a date” He grinned, as if this hadn’t been an in-the-moment decision. He moved around the table making sure not to give you any room. Sitting beside you and watching your every move. He leaned in, moving his hand from yours to the small of your back as he whispered into your ear.

“Drink?” he asked, just the one word making the hair on the back of your neck raise as you shivered, hoping that he didn’t notice as he got up from his seat.

“Yeah - please. Could I have-”

“I know my girl’s order” he said with a wink. You smiled not able to help yourself enjoying the interaction but a light frown on your brow as he walked off. He exhaled an unneeded breath as he went, thinking about what he had just said, about how he wished you were his.

You continued to frown a little, mulling over how he could switch to flirting so easily. It worried you, how easily he could pretend. He had very obvious feelings for you, but you took it as him feeling sorry for you.

When he returned, he set your favourite drink in front of you before he slipped his hand back over yours, resting it there gently. He was ecstatic, he had been dreaming of becoming closer to you for a while now and he finally had a chance, even if it was under the guise of a friend helping a friend out.

You stayed there for a little while, Spike making small talk asking you questions that he tried to pretend weren’t probing as you sat together before your insecurity got the better of you.

“I do-don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard” You say suddenly, looking down at his hand on yours. You released your hand from his and getting up to leave. He takes your wrist, pulling you back to him but your face tells him he needs to let go. Hot tears were threatening to spill and a thick lump in your throat almost choking you. He was confused, why were you reacting that way? Was he that repulsive to you?

You move to get some fresh air, each intake of the cold night having you wishing that you could just swallow up Sunnydale in its entirety. Take it from the map and leave a crater in it’s place. No more embarrassment, no more admitting that you’re a virgin. That nobody had even appeared to want to kiss you before. That you had never had the confidence to make a move yourself. A happy coincidence being that if you swallowed the town there would be no more hell mouth and demons.

You could start fresh, nobody feeling sorry for you or pretending to care to make you feel better. You appreciated Spike and what he had been trying to do. Helping out a friend. But you so desperately wanted him your heart had started to ache with every accelerated beat.

He had followed you, taking your jacket from where it had been draped on the chair behind you that you had left when you got up. He draped it over your large shoulders, his hand lingering on your back before moving.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked quietly, leaning against the wall as you stared into the night. You shook your head, there was a pause before everything started to bubble over and your feelings started to tumble from your mouth.

“It’s like those poems you write, Spike. The feelings you conjure I can’t fake. I like you and this is cruel, almost worse than having never been on a date because I want it to be real and it’s just not it-it’s theatre. It’s you feeling pity – just helping out a friend-” you rushed out, each word crashing into the next.

“Hey, slow down, pet” He halted you, “Bloody motor-mouth” he muttered, with a shake of his head. A ghost of a smile on your lips. He often called you that, but for gushing about something you really enjoyed. It was a term of endearment, “That – in there was the most honest I’ve been with you. I wanted all of that… I wanted more” he admitted softly. The same voice he reserved for discussing the most romantic feelings his poetry had revealed.

He knew you had been platonic for a long time, missing all of the signs that you liked him back until now. He looked at you, a silent conversation between you. You could almost hear his mind screaming out for you as he pulled you into him.

His eyebrow quirked, ensuring he hadn’t read the wrong signals. If he was honest, he had been waiting for this for a very long time. Since before even your friendship had suddenly developed he had that feeling of concentrated affection for you that he knew was leading to this. He could only hope that this was where it could end up.

You barely started to nod your approval before he pulled you crashing your mouth into his. He kissed you hungrily, your soft lips a beautiful sensation that had only been fantasy until recently. Despite the evident passion, there was an undercurrent of understanding. A hint of sweet amongst it all that told you it was still spike, the man that had written those words. Words that now made perfect sense. His poetry only now making sense to you as you felt it. You were connected to him so intimately and you were sure his poetry had now been about affection for you. You couldn’t fake something like this.

The kiss was special, you had thought you would be nervous, unsure what you were doing as it was so new to you. But it was perfect, your lips moving with his in a way that you were sure meant this was destiny. All of the stars aligning and pointing towards the spot that you were kissing under.

You realised that you hadn’t been doing anything with your hands, they had been suspended in mid-air as if you were worried to reach and contact his skin your hands would go straight through him, revealing that he was merely a spectre. This moment being too good to be true. You were half convinced that he would be a hallucination, not corporeal to the touch.

It was like a dream, but it was better than any you had ever thought up. His skin on yours. The way he lingered against your chubby curves in adoration, as if he had never been allowed to touch something so precious. The kiss deepened and you didn’t have time to worry if you were doing anything right, you were wrapped up in how good this felt. The heightened feelings mingling with just how much you cared for the vampire that was now press himself against you as close as he could physically get.

One of his hands had been in your hair, the other at your hip until he realised your hands hadn’t touched him. He smirked into the kiss, remembering that you hadn’t done this before. His hands moved, gliding along your soft skin, leaving goose-bumps as he made his way to where your hands were still tentatively waiting to catch up with your brain. He moved your hands and guided you to rest on him, his eyes scrutinising your face as he did.

You smiled, breathless, wrapping your arms around him further and nestling to rest your head on his shoulder. He ran his hands along your shapely form before resting against your waist. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his body under your hands. Neither of you had to say anything. You knew it was the start of something, it was rising in both of your chests.

That kiss was definitely worth the wait.

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