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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months ago

Note

Hi I want to say I love your work SO much, it’s a little guilty pleasure of mine. And then, first off, I wanna apologize for those absolute bitches who keep getting on to you ab what you write. It’s fiction guys chill the fuck out 😅😅 SECONDLY I requested it once before but I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought back to it, but I was wondering if you could do an age-gap relationship where Rafael is in his late 40s, early 50s and reader is in their 20s and Rafael grooms them and rapes them? Pretty please? *sighs in agony*

I’m bumping this up because I’ve seen it a few times and you deserve it!

nsfw under the cut; non con to dub con , forced masturbation, reader is afab but not gendered, reader is olivias kid, huuuge age gap (raf is 54 and youre early 20s). forced cheating (but it really isn’t cheating), forced orgasms, unprotected p-in-v. slight sonny x reader.

rafael barba x reader

rafael was seething.

who were you to shoot down his closing argument? in fact, who were you to even know about the goddamn law? the fact that your mommy was the police lieutenant of special victims?

you were laughable.

he gripped the folders in his hands as he walked to the elevator, muttering nonsense about your stupidity—looking at his own polished shoes, and then felt the brutal force of someone crashing into him.

“sorry, barba—didn’t see ya down there,” carisi joked, and it fueled the fire. Barba didn’t brush his joke off as he usually did, he purposely pushed past the taller detective and he stumbled back a few steps.

as he entered the elevator, turning back around to see you briefly, rubbing your hand on the part barba’s shoulder collided with on carisi’s arm and it made rafael angry. you and carisi were always close, him being the youngest member of the team—and you the ‘intern who was getting paid because your mommy couldn’t stand to leave you alone’, even younger. of course, you’d take a liking to him.

and there was no point in carisi denying he had a thing for you, barely legal, when barba had caught him red handed palming his hard on in his slacks to a picture of you on social media when he thought no one was paying attention.

it made rafaels blood boil. you needed to be taught a lesson. and if your own mother wasn’t going to do it, your non-existent father who wanted nothing to do with his bastard child because he has his own dysfunctional family, then he would. and you’d like every goddamn minute of it.

you knew after the altercation with Barba that he wasn’t on good terms with you, but it didn’t really matter to you. he was your mom’s friend, not yours, you didn’t have to be around him if you didn’t want to.

at first, you had a thing for him because he was so nice, he was raised right and spoke to you unlike any other man had before. it was easy forming a little crush on the lawyer, and you tried to hide it well.

that was until he started getting snippy with you, he started being sarcastic and talking down to you; whether it be your age, intelligence (downright calling you stupid at one point), and insinuating that you were sleeping around because you wanted to go undercover (without a badge). you cried, spent a while getting over him, then sonny was by your side and took his place easily. he was kinder than barba ever could be, never had a bad thing to say to you or about you.

you were about to leave the precinct around lunch time, finishing off putting the recent case into files on the computer’s database. while a little rushed, as you had a—well, not a date date with sonny. Instead of buying you a huge deli sandwich as he usually does when he does a backshift, he wanted to take you out for lunch.

“hey, glad you’re still here,” your mom says as he exits her office, you glanced at her as you logged out of the laptop.

“you mind running these down to barba? he needs fin’s written statement notes and I see my squad has already done a runner.”

you glanced at your phone, you could make Barba’s office and then the restaurant before cutting it late. you’d hate to disappoint sonny.

“hmm, sure,” you took the notepad and files from her hands and she kissed your cheek, “moom, not at work, please,”

carmen knocked on the glass of Barba’s office, opening the door without an invitation and popped her head round the door. “mr. barba? one of the detectives from special victims are here,”

rafael raised his head and squinted his eyes, there was no case today involving him—why does he have a visitor? his thoughts were quickly shut down when you entered his office.

“what’re you doing here?” he asked as carmen left, she said that she was taking her lunch break but it fell on deaf ears.

“mom asked me to drop these by,” you said, handing him the files in your hands. “after that, I’m finished for the day.”

barba looked you over, sniffing as he took you in. you looked different, more… done up. definitely wearing nicer clothes than you usually do, you smelled expensive.

“you going on a date?” he asked, and he didn’t take the files.

“i—no, no. im just meeting a friend for lunch.” and he could tell by the tone in your voice that you were lying to him. not an ounce of respect in you, was there?

he hummed, “sit down, I want to talk to you.”

you hesitated, but you thought maybe this would be the moment that you both started anew, you moved the few steps over to the sofa and sat down.

Barba joined you, opening the drawer beside him and bringing out a bottle of scotch and two tumbler glasses, filling them and handing one to you. you took the glass to be polite—not really a drinker.

“it’s carisi, isnt it?” he smirked, all knowing.

he noticed you didn’t drink the scotch like he asked you to, just holding the glass in your hands. how your fingers clenched around the glass at the sound of his name.

“i dunno what you mean…” your voice trailed off.

“carisi, the one you’re meeting for lunch? don’t lie to me. i have half the mind to tell your mother about your little… sex meet ups with him.”

that comment made you frown, “what? sonny and i—we don’t… don’t say that. he’s my friend.”

rafael snorted and took a sip of his scotch, “you really don’t think he’s not gonna use you for pussy? lunch at… ten in the morning? when he doesn’t start until two in the afternoon?”

you were silent, but rafael saw the emotion in your face. denial, because in your stupid little mind; sonny was a gentleman, the highest of standards. then it was realisation that it was a good possibility of being true. you didn’t want to be used, you wanted to be cherished.

“I mean, if you wanted to be fucked, you could’ve just asked. I’ll tell you for starters, my cock is bigger than his.”

“that’s gross,” you spoke and set the tumbler of scotch on his coffee table. “you’re gross.”

“Am I?” rafael challenged, he leaned forward and was in your personal space. “because I think… you need a real man’s dick in you to set your attitude straight.”

and he didn’t miss the disgust in your face. “im going to be late—“

you began to stand but rafael’s palm shot out and took hold of your thigh, using some of his strength to keep you seated on his leather couch. “be late, I wonder what that little bitch would think about having my sloppy seconds.”

your breath became shaky, “don’t… call him that.” you tried, but your voice became a whisper with the situation you were put in. the predatory look in his features… it scared you.

he used the hand that was on your thigh to spread it open, despite your quick reflexes to try and close them. “this is a long time coming,” he grunted as he forcefully pushed you down—the back of your head hitting the arm of the leather couch—and crawled over you in one quick motion.

he weighed more than you, more fat and muscle that easily held you down. you tried to push him off, but you weren’t strong enough. it was laughable, and he did laugh, right in your face.

“here’s what’s gonna happen; im going to fuck you, and I mean really fuck you, and you’re going to take every inch of my cock inside you and you’re going to cum on it. and if you don’t? I have a few crimes I can easily put on you,” he stopped, and then smirked, “and trust me, if you want to be anything like your mom in the future—you’ll lay here and let me do what I want with you.”

you swallowed, then you nodded.

his green eyes looked you over, his tongue peeking out to lick his bottom lip. “take off your pants. underwear too. I have a meeting in half an hour, unfortunately this has to be quick.”

you hesitated again, then closed your eyes real tight and began pulling down your pants, slowly over your thighs until they became stuck at your ankles—and he helped you take them off, putting them on the small table beside you as he watched you like a perverted hawk.

“those too,” his voice was calm as he instructed you.

“I really don’t want—“

“i said; those. too.” he repeated, and you could hear the impatience in his tone. he was being kind.

you done as you were told, eyes clenched shut as you did with the humiliation as the cool air of his office hit your most sensitive areas.

you heard him whistle, “carisi sure doesn’t know what he’s missing. you’re sure he hasn’t fucked this beautiful pussy before?”

before you had a chance to think, rafael’s big palms pushed your knees apart so he could get a good look at your exposed and naked pussy. “look at you… jesus… i would’ve treated you better if you just showed this to me,”

and his index finger came down to press on your clit, more for his benefit than yours. “i want you to touch yourself,” he said to you.

“t—touch—?”

“yes, touch yourself. i want to see how you make yourself feel good—and, I’m not going to fuck a dry pussy.”

you swallowed, top teeth coming to bite your bottom plump lip as you looked down at your naked bottom half. your pussy was exposed to him, and he was staring at you. expecting you to show him how you please yourself.

with hesitation, you brought your fingertips to your clit. the little bud that became your best friend at times, and slowly began to rub small circles on it. this was different, he was watching you and forcing you to do this without giving you any option to leave (like you initially wanted). a little sound escaped you, whether it was the fact it felt good; you didn’t know.

“does it feel good?” he asked and the palm on your kneecap rubbed there, and it comforted you.

you nodded, because it did. you never learned how to properly finger yourself, your fingers were too small to reach anywhere nice and your arm would get tired.

you heard the sound of his zipper being pulled down, and then the rustle of his suit pants and you peeked an eye open to witness him pulling his pants and underwear down just under his ass so he could stroke his cock to the sight of you.

and it was big. nothing like your ex. rafael’s cock bordered on huge. you felt your mouth go dry.

his eyes were glued to your pussy, watching as it clenched on nothing—almost inviting him in. and he could see how aroused you got so easy, just a few swipes on your clit and you were dripping? or maybe it was the thought of him, you were thinking about him and it made your body react. whatever it was, it was working.

he saw your hips slowly buck against nothing, almost trying to ride the air, twitching against your own fingertips—how the tips of your fingers pressed down a little harder, and how you moved a little faster.

“fuck… what’re you thinking about?” he asked as he squeezed the base of his cock.

“feel—feeling good,” you hiccuped, “y—you… putting… inside me,”

it wasn’t your fault, really. when horny, the mind goes everywhere and nowhere. wanting everything, and right now, the sight of a cock in front of you just made your body crave it.

you felt the head of his cock press against your fluttering hole and your mind was too messed up and hazy to fully understand the situation until he pushed inside of you, the head slipping into your tight pussy with what felt like a ‘pop’. your fingertips stopped their motions on your clit as your body took in the sensation of his fat cock, trying to decide whether to fight it or allow it.

“did I say stop?” rafael barked, “keep rubbing that clit, cariño—do a good job and we’ll be best friends, huh? maybe i’ll take you out for lunch,” he chuckled to himself.

you mewled, a small sound that came from your lips as he pushed in further and all you wanted was for it to end—but it was cut short as he started moving his hips, and suddenly your mind was wiped clean of any thought.

your fingertips rubbed small circles on your bundle of nerves as instructed, but with each hard thrust of his cock inside you had you pausing each second, head tipping back as the older man above you grunted; his hands tight on your hips as he drove into you.

“tight… fucking pussy,” he grunted, “gonna make me cum, mija, look at your wet fucking hole, sucking me in,”

he had only started fucking you not even three minutes ago, but the only sexual activity he has is with his right hand. his stamina was non existent and he was fifty-four, which added to it.

“keep rubbing that clit, I can feel you’re close—you need it, huh? need me to fuck you a little harder?”

and you nodded, desperate and your fingertips worked just a little harder at the same time when he started pounding you into the couch. he watched as his fat cock disappeared inside you and how wet you had his cock, dropping onto the dark brown leather (that he would definitely lick up once he shoo’d you away), and how your eyes rolled back into your head and how your body moved as if you were a ragdoll on his cock.

“mmph—im—so—“ you choked out, and fuck could he feel it. your wet, gummy walls contracted around him and the anticipation of feeling you cum was enough to bring him to the breaking point, his thrusts growing erratic—the fat mushroom head of his cock punching against your cervix as he chased his own orgasm was just enough to make you cum, shuddering and back arching, muscles tensing as you came all over his cock.

rafael let out a cry as he came, fucking himself and you through it as he emptied himself inside you; so much cum after having a body for the first time in years, it spilled out around his cock and dripped out of you as he continued to fuck you.

he gave you a few nice, hard thrusts as came down from his high and you were twitching, breath uneven as you tried to ground yourself.

“good… good, you were good,” he breathed hard, his palm sliding up your t-shirt to feel your damp skin. your eyes were glazed over looking at him, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

he didn’t know what you were thinking, but his face was so close to yours and you craned your neck up just a little to press your lips to his; maybe it helped you, he didn’t know.

but what he did know, is that as you kissed him, your hips slowly bucked on his softening cock, and that all he had to do was fuck the attitude out of you.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months ago

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single dad!Rafael Barba who absolutely spoiled his little girl from her youth to adulthood, who doesn’t think any man is worthy of her. No man is worthy of being her husband, except him of course. She’s a daddy’s girl down to her core

catching up on requests before I finish actual fics! sorry for your wait if you’re waiting on an actual fic request! trust me it will be finished soon!

rafael barba x reader

tw: consensual incest, father/child incest, pussy eating, use of ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’ and ‘papi’. non gendered terms.

rafael liked to think he done his very best raising you.

while you were unplanned by a drunken one-night stand by a far too religious woman who agreed to carry you to term, then dumped you on him, you were the best thing to happen to him. And he made sure you knew that, too. He worked extra hard just to rack up the overtime just to get you designer clothes, the new phone, whatever you wanted.

and yeah, as you got a little older, started college, you started seeing boys. And that? He didn’t like that.

you came home far too many times crying because the boy you were seeing moved onto someone else and tossed you to the curb, or cheated on you, or was with you as a joke. your friends had no problems getting boyfriends, he seemed to notice.

so, he did what any other man would do. he asked you out on a date, masking it as a parent-child dinner date; to help you feel better.

“I don’t think you want to be seen with me like this,” you sniffled, wiping the tear under your eyelid. you were in bed, crying, after your second boyfriend was caught fucking your friend.

“cmon, mijo,” your dad stroked the back of your other hand with his thumb, “i don’t care what you look like, I just want to make you feel better, cariño.”

and so he did, he helped you get changed into something that wasn’t a just your underwear and a tshirt and took you to a little restaurant a few blocks from the apartment and watched as you cheered up over a plate of spaghetti and garlic knots. he had always hated seeing you upset, and now he was able to change that.

this went on for months, every week he would take you out and make you feel special; a little dinner just for the two of you, where he could leave his work-act behind and hold your hand over the table-top as you talked about how you were getting so bored with class.

the night was so… touchy, different from the other times. he held your hand as you walked back home, and it felt natural.

he kisses you that night, before you went to bed. you had just done your nightly routine and was exiting the bathroom when he bumped into you, then for a moment you both just looked at each other, then he leaned down to kiss you so softly on the lips.

and you didn’t cry, or scream, or push him away and call him a pervert. when the kiss was finished, you gave him a small smile and put your hand on his chest and said “goodnight, dad.”

then it happened more and more often, small kisses as you left the door or kisses that lingered just a little when he was seeing you off to bed. you didn’t say anything about it, in fact, as time went on, he noticed how you were the one to lean yourself upwards to kiss him—like you felt the same way he did.

it got to a point where he was making out with you on the couch while one of his old time-y movies was playing in the background. then that became your new normal.

it was wrong, he knew that and he knew that you knew that, too. but it didn’t have to be public, no one had to know.

your new relationship progressed over the course of a year, from small kisses to full on make outs, to subtle touching to right now; your very stressed old man father coming home from work, grumbling about how work has floored him, and all he wanted to do was bury his head between your thighs.

he sat beside you on the sofa, head tipped back and let out a sigh. his briefcase was dumped at the door and he didn’t even bother to take his shoes off.

“you alright?” you had asked with a light laugh to try and make his mood better.

“work was just… intense,” he sighed.

“is there… anything I could do to make your day better?” you had asked with the full intention of making him dinner, or maybe buying him some of his favourite take-out or even running him a bath (things he would always do for you when you had a rough day).

“honestly, the only thing that would make me feel better is burying my head between your thighs.”

so that’s exactly what he did.

on the couch, he was on his knees and his hands hooked under your thighs as he ate out your pussy. you were only were only wearing some thin underwear that he could easily hold to the side as he licked your pussy lips, his eyes closed as if he was eating the best meal of his life.

“dad,” you croaked, peaking an eye open.

you had never been ate out before, and by the looks of it, your dad was very experienced. the way his tongue glided against you, how his lips wrapped and sucked on your clit and how his fingers found that special, spongy spot inside of you—it was heaven.

he hummed on your clit as he made eye contact with you, “i’m—im getting close,” you told him, breathlessly, hips raising slightly to catch his mouth.

the corner of his mouth turned upwards at your statement, and his fingers fucked harder into you, “¿Vas a correrte por tu papá, cariño?”

your mind was so scattered that you didn’t understand what he said, but nodded anyway, thighs spreading a little wider.

“Di, 'por favor papá, ¿puedo correrme?'” his voice was low and husky, and his beard was wet with your dripping arousal.

“f—fuck,” you breathed, “pl—please, daddy?”

that wasn’t enough for rafael, he loved to tease and he wanted you to fall apart knowing he was the one that done it to you.

“again, cariño,” he said in a sing-song voice, and to further continue your torture, he kitten licked your already swollen clit—his beard having the best friction on your bundle of nerves.

“please—please can I—can I cum, daddy? papi, please—“

he felt your pussy clench around his two thick fingers and he knew it wouldn’t be fair if he continued to tease you like this. “go on, ceilo, cum for me, cum for daddy.”

the second he felt you cum on his fingers, he moved his mouth back to your pussy and licked and drank everything you had to give him. fucking you through your orgasm with his fingers and his mouth on your clit.

you panted ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’ like a prayer as he helped you come down from your orgasm, eyes half lidded and you watched him lick up everything you had to give him. slowly, his fingers left your used pussy and he sucked them clean.

“you’re dirty,” you giggled, and his eyebrows raised in fake-concern.

“uh huh, you tell yourself that,” he said as he climbed over you and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months ago

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I need to say this anonymously because I feel so dirty for thinking this but oh my god step brother Sonny with a breeding kink (maybe his wife can’t have kids but Sonny wants some?) so he holds you down (dub-con? I suppose, maybe a slightly established relationship.) and pumps you full of his cum going on about how you’ll look so good with his babies HAHDQJFJANDNAJ I NEED TO TEAR MY SKIN OFF I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT ugh just give me your babies pls Sonny

OMFGSHSB tws: stepcest, breeding kink, consensual step-incest, sly sex, quiet sex, dirty talk, coercion, AFAB reader, no gendered pronouns or persons or names, slight religious guilt.

NSFW under the cut

@noellawrites ❤️

Sonny’s hand was pressed against your mouth, trying to keep you as quiet as possible. The carisi household was either a quiet house or a house that was a few decibels higher than it should be. And right now, there was an unnatural middle—kids running around, the adults laughing downstairs—but if you made any noise higher than a whimper or a low moan, there would be a fifty percent chance it would be heard.

Tucked away in a bedroom closet, sonny was grinding his exposed cock on your wet with arousal underwear. Propped up on a low shelf, the position was just good enough for a quick, good fuck.

But sonny liked to take his time, to tease you.

“please,” you begged. It was muffled by his hand, and you tore your eyes from the cock that was rubbing against your clothed swollen clit.

“What was that?” Sonny teased, “couldn’t hear ya, need to speak up, kiddo.”

your hips tilted to try and catch the tip of his cock, but he was more skilled than you and continued to drag his cock on your crotch.

Sonny was kind, though, and he took his hand off your mouth temporarily to hear you out.

“please put your cock in me,” you begged, lust took over your body and mind that there wasn’t any shyness behind your voice. Only need.

Sonny smirked, “depends, baby… ya gonna make me put on a condom?”

Sonny knew your thoughts on protection; you figured you were too young to have a baby, with your whole life ahead of you—you didn’t want a baby to throw your life off track. With a shitty barista cafè job, still living with your mom and step-father at twenty-one years old and in college debt; this would be the worst time to get pregnant.

“Sonny…” you closed your eyes.

“C’mon… baby, would it really be that bad? Ya could move in with me—I’ll take care ‘a ya n’ the baby,”

Sonny’s mind was lust-clouded as well, but he meant what he said. If you got pregnant with his baby? He’d step up, be the father he was born to be.

“I can’t, sonny…”

Sonny pulled your damp underwear to the side and the fat, red head of his cock kissed your clit and you let out a low moan.

“Ya ever thought ‘bout how good it’ll feel when I go in raw, baby? Ever touch ya’self to the thought of me cummin’ in ya?”

You have, and you did. The condom was always put on because sonny respected you and respected the fact you didn’t want to get knocked up—and if you did, explaining to your parents that the father of your child was your own step-brother wouldn’t go down easily, either.

Your legs spread a little wider when he started to grind his cock through your wet pussy lips, closing your eyes to focus on the delight between your legs.

“Least lemme put it in raw, doll,” Sonny asked and he placed the pad of his thumb on your clit and rubbed slowly to further convince you. And it didn’t take much to do so.

“fuck… okay,” you breathe, agreeing.

Sonny smiled, gleefully, and bit his bottom lip as he eased the tip of his fat cock inside you.

The burn was what got you first, and after so long without having your big brother inside you, it felt brand new.

The moan that left your mouth was louder than he wanted, “shh—quiet,” he warned, and he slid a hand from your thigh to your cheek, and he put his thumb in your mouth.

“Feelth’s s’tho goothd,” you slurred around his thumb, and your eyelids were half-lidded. And his tip was barely inside you.

“Feels betta’ without a condom, huh?” Sonny smirked as he eased more of himself inside your sopping, tight pussy.

You nodded repeatedly, and your eyes glanced down to his cock slipping inside you and your eyelids fluttered shut.

“‘Magine how good it’ll feel if I cum in ya, baby.. feelin’ me spill inside of ya, fillin’ ya up….”

You moaned around his digit and tipped your head back against the cramped wall. His cock started to move inside of you, and you had forgotten what he felt like inside you, and then you wondered how you went so long without him pumping inside you.

Sonny took his thumb out from your mouth and used it to rub your clit, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. “Really wanna fill ya up, baby,” Sonny moaned, tipping his head to the side.

Your pussy was unlike anything he’s ever felt before, so tight and grips him in the best way possible—and all he thinks about is cumming deep inside of you, filling you up and knocking you up. Hell, if his own girlfriend put out a little more then he wouldn’t have to drive all the way home to fuck his step-sibling—but by god, he loves it. Addicted, almost. The way your body gripped him and never wanted to let him go, how your arousal dripped from your pussy as he fucked you—no one has reacted as you have.

Your walls fluttered around his cock, the first telltale sign that you were close to an orgasm and with the added pleasure of his thumb rubbing your clit, it was happening fast.

You never expected a nice, long, sensual fuck in a cramped bedroom closet. The top of your step-brothers head had to hunch over as not to smack against the high shelf with each hard thrust of his hips. And Sonny knew your body somehow better than yourself, playing it like an instrument for so many years now. Imagining it as he touched himself as night.

“Ya gonna cum, baby?” Sonny groaned.

You nodded, feeling your lower pelvis bubble with anticipation of the orgasm creeping up on you.

“Uh huh,” you moaned.

Sonny’s cock moved inside you harder, banging you hard against the wall as he chased his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum inside ya baby,”

Your eyes fluttered open, “n… no, sonny—can’t,”

“‘M gonna fill ya up with my baby, honey, see ya swell with my baby, fuck ya everyday til’ ya give birth.”

before you could say anything, your jaw dropped ever so slightly as sonny fucked you into a powerful orgasm—an orgasm only he could give you, you’ve come to learn. Your velvety walls sucked him in and that was just enough to tip sonny over the edge.

His back bowed over you and he stifled his groan by pressing his lips into your neck, pumping his cock somehow even deeper inside you as he came. You gasped as you felt the spurts of his cum inside you, your hands grasping at him and you didn’t know whether to push him away to pull him closer.

“Sonny,” you moaned, and your step-brother peppered kisses on your neck as he prolonged his orgasm.

“see? felt real good, didn’t it?”

What sonny didn’t expect was a hit to his solid chest, and he removed his face from your neck.

“I told you not to cum in me!” you told him in a hushed whisper, finger pointing into his chest.

“Too late now, anyway,” he said as he stood (as straight as he could in the closet) and his cock was still inside you. You couldn’t deny how good it felt, and he was totally right about that; but you told him from day one that you never wanted to even risk being knocked up.

“you’re gonna have to buy me a plan b,” you told him, “I can’t… I’ve told you i can’t get pregnant,”

“I ain’t buyin’ you plan b, sweetheart, it’s against our religion. hey, if god wants ya knocked up by me, then he’ll do it.”

Sonny only chuckled and kissed you, and you hesitated for a moment but you were always weak for him, kissing him back as he pulled out and the first thing you felt was your argument falling apart as you felt so empty, his cock filled you in the best possible way. Sonny watched in the dim light as his white cum started to drip out of you; then he took his finger and fucked it back inside you.

“Ain’t wastin’ that,” he commented.

“I hate you,” you mutter, and you don’t know if there’s any meaning behind it as he softly fingers your raw, swollen pussy; pushing his cum as deep as it could go.

“nah, ‘ya love me. or at least ‘ya pussy does,” he laughs, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

your stepbrother knew he had you hypnotized by his cock, and now his DNA was inside of you, ready to start making a baby inside you.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months ago

Text

Beautiful Sinner (Priest! Barba AU), Prologue & Ch. 1

Priest! Barba x f! reader | SVU au

Rating: NSFW for language, graphic smut, basic desecration of religious upbringing.

WC: 8.6K

AN: I am so going to hell. One way ticket for lil old me.

AN2: Big thanks to @beccabarba for reviewing and being my soundboard.

Prologue:

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been, It's been too long since my last confession.”

“Go ahead,” the voice behind the screen began. “Tell me your sins.”

You shivered at the tambor of the words spoken. And you know that your sins were also their sins.

“I'm not seeking penance for what I've done, Father. I'm asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do,” you clarified. Your voice was soft.

“That’s not how this works,” the familiar voice replied. “What exactly are you going to do?”

You let out a shaky breath and heat flushed your cheeks. You began to unbutton your blouse. “I think you already know, Father.”

— Ch. 1—

*six months earlier*

It was a blistering summer day in Manhattan, the sun beating down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows on towering skyscrapers. The pavement radiated intense heat, mirages shimmering above the asphalt street. The air was thick with a suffocating blend of exhaust fumes, unpicked garbage bags and urban heat. City dwellers sought refuge in shaded pockets, and the city seemed to pulsate with the collective desire for relief from the oppressive heat.

It also happened to be your first weekend in your new home-a nine-story walk up in Hudson Heights.

You received your pink slip and had to make the hard decision to move. Your aunt was subletting her apartment while she traveled across the Borneo rainforests. Transitioning to a more modest apartment was a challenging shift. You had to adapt to a different community vibe and recalibrate your lifestyle expectations. You had introverted tendencies but you tried to remain resilient, focusing on navigating this life change as a time to reset.

You opened the window and stuck your head out. Spanish music played outside loudly and the normally traffic filled street was closed, with people milling about. It was the annual block party for the neighborhood, with vendors and entertainment alike. The food smelled wonderful and your stomach growled in response. The sound of a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You ducked your head, making sure to avoid giving yourself a concussion. “Coming!” You called out as your bare feet padded the floor. You knew who it was - Maria, your next door neighbor who you met on move-in day. Maria was friendly with your aunt and you knew that she had promised your aunt that she’d keep an eye on you. She was close in age to you and immediately offered you a helping hand, helping you bring up boxes. You thanked her with pizza and beer and the two of you were on your way to becoming fast friends.

When Maria had texted you earlier in the week,” ‘Block party! Want to come with?’ it was an easy yes.

You opened the door and let Maria in. “Just need shoes and my bag. Help yourself if you want anything,” you called out, heading back towards your bedroom.

You heard your fridge open, the cacophonous sounds of beverages clanking together followed by the click and hiss of a can opening. Soon enough, you were both on your way.

–

Time flew and you found yourself really enjoying yourself. Eventually Maria had to leave - she was meeting her boyfriend and his sister to head into Queens to catch the Mets game.

You were still beyond hot, the humidity was thick, almost choking you. You pulled out a claw clip from your bag and pinned your hair up. Just even having the damp strands off the nape of your neck provided some, albeit, minimal relief. In that moment, you missed your pixie cut from years prior.

The local fire department had opened the fire hydrant and there was a gaggle of kids playing in the water. You looked at the water longingly before you internally said ‘fuck it,’ and ran through the open fire hydrant. The force of the water was stronger - and colder - than you had anticipated and you let out a shriek. You ran through it once more - this time not as close to the hydrant - enjoying the water washing over your overheated skin. Sufficiently cooled off, you continued on your way through the neighborhood.

There was a generalized area with a tent set up for community outreach. Curiosity piqued, you moseyed on over. You picked up a pamphlet - St. Blaise Church. You were religious as a child, it was as how your parents raised you. As an adult, you found yourself straying away, not agreeing with the church’s ideals which contradicted your more liberal beliefs. Sometimes, though, you found yourself missing it - especially during Christmas and Easter, when the congregation would meet up together in mass throngs. There was something about community that made you wistful.

“Interested in the Church?” a voice questioned. You looked up and you locked eyes with a handsome man. That was an understatement. He was obscenely good looking. Almost as if it hurt to look at him straight on. You felt a jolt straight to your core. No one should look as good as he did.

He took your breath away with his green eyes and thick, fitted build. His hair was dark with flecks of gray at the temples. His salt and pepper beard neatly framed his jawline. The man gave you a smile, his eyes crinkling. Crow's feet gracefully fanned out from the corners of his eyes, evidence of a life rich in laughter and stories. Dressed in comfortable yet stylish summer attire, he exuded a casual sophistication. He wore a fitted polo with fitted shorts that were borderline criminal. The polo was slightly unbuttoned, which allowed for a hint of chest hair along sun-kissed skin to peek through. Immediately your brain went to the gutter.

“Miss?”

You blinked. It was as if your brain broke and you had no idea as to how to respond. He raised a brow and inwardly you melted, feeling warmth bloom through you.

“Uh, sorry. The heat is just getting to me,” Nervous laughter accompanied your lame excuse.

“No worries, it happens to the best of us. I’m Rafael Barba.” He offered his hand and you took it. As you shook his hand, warmth bloomed through you.

He offered you a beer from a cooler and you happily accepted. And over beer, you find yourself enamored with every word from his lips. You suspected Rafael was involved with the church with how passionately he spoke about it. And when he invited you to attend the Adult Fellowship group after Sunday’s mass, you found yourself agreeing.

“...the fellowship hour following the Liturgy provides opportunities to develop friendships, meet parishioners or simply exchange information of mutual interest. There are monthly birthday celebrations and seasonal events, such as Christmas and Easter parties, as well as a spring picnic. We are always looking for more—”

Rafael’s cell rang and he apologized before excusing himself. You nodded and rocked on your heels, once again taking in the scene before you as you finished your beer.

This new neighborhood was already looking up.

—

As Rafael took the call, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at you once more. His eyes raked over your form, fully drinking you in. He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He could feel a slight stirring in his pants, and furiously shook his head.

‘No,’ his brain argued. ‘No.’

He was not being turned on right now. Rafael tried to push the thought away and turned his attention back to the phone.

After the Householder case and resigning from the D.A.’s office, Rafael decided he needed to get away from it all. He spent the next three months holed up in his apartment, avoiding anyone and everyone.

Even if he didn’t want to - there was no one who would understand what he did. His mother was horrified and stopped talking to him. He received more than one gloating, sneering call from the recidivist he should have blocked — Alex Muños. Even Yelina spurned him.

He was truly alone.

So what was an acquitted, former ADA to do?

He prayed.

He had lapsed from religion. After working in the DA’s office and seeing all the especially heinous, depraved, evil out there - he was convinced there was no God.

He couldn’t explain why he did what he did - he did what he had to. Something called him to do it.

Was it God? Was it the Devil?

He wasn’t sure. So he prayed some more.

And then one night it came to him. The calling from God.

After a lengthy period of hemming and hawing, weighing the pros and cons, he contacted the local diocesan vocational director and began the requisite training. That training looked like pre-theology for 2 years followed by a tenure at a major seminary where he studied languages—some of which he already knew -Latin, Spanish, Greek. He also took graduate level studies in theology, including Doctrine, Canon Law, Church History, Scripture, and Liturgy.

He called St. Blaise’s home for three years. He found joy in community and spreading the Gospel. He gave to the community as much as he could possibly give. He thought it would be weird - that people would recognize him and call him a baby killer. And if they did - they never did it to his face. Rather, the community embraced him.

He was still busy as ever - mass was everyday, there were funerals, baptisms and weddings. He did outreach with the youth and began a fellowship for parishioners who were in a similar age cohort. Having saved quite a penny as an ADA, he lived off his savings. A priest’s salary was meager and he still had to pay taxes. So his salary sat in another account which went towards that.

The summer block party was an annual event, but very nubile - only in its third year. It’s where he felt he could give most back and the community could truly come together.

He hadn’t felt an attraction to any form of secular life in ages.

Until you just now.

He could use the excuse that he was a man after all. A man who used to be sexually active with both men and women alike. But before you, he was able to steer his thoughts away and put that energy into something else for the betterment of the church and community.

And then you came along, soaking yourself as you sprinted through a pump before going back for more.

His eyes traveled over you again. You were soaked, the material of your clothing sticking to you. Your tank top - now sheer - showing off your nipples which were diamond hard due to the combination of the cold water and air.

‘Fucking hell, get a grip.’

But he turned around to get yet another look, while yes’ing the person on the phone. His eyes trailed over the shorts you wore, perfectly molded to your ass and thighs. The rest of your legs were equally toned and for a split second, he could imagine them wrapped around his hips.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’

He wanted to talk to you more but this phone call ate up his time. Finally after what seemed like forever, he was free again. He decided at that moment, he needed to clear his head, so he sat back down and willed his cock to deflate. He closed his eyes and was about to cover his face with a hat when you interrupted him again.

“So what’s a lapsed Catholic to do if she wants to rejoin the church?”

Rafael lifted the hat off his face and sat fully. He cocked a brow. “Well, you can start by coming to mass tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” you sighed. “It’s been awhile.”

“How long is a while?” Rafael inquired gently. He gave you a kind smile. You looked away, embarrassed. Heat flooded your cheeks.

“Years,” you supplied.

Rafael nodded and then cocked his head. “Are you familiar with the parable about Jesus and the lost sheep?”

You nodded. “I’m the one that Jesus is looking for?”

Rafael nodded. “Maybe. But what about coming to mass first and checking it out before making any commitments?”

You nodded again. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hey stranger! Long time no see!” a familiar voice called out, interrupting the conversation.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Maria, now accompanied by her boyfriend.

“I thought you were going to the city,” you asked, chucking your beer in the garbage can next to you.

“Changed our minds. Plus Robbie’s sister is being a little bitch.”

That earned a ‘hey!’ from Robbie before he acquiesced. “Yeah, she is being a little bitch.”

You turned back around but Rafael was nowhere to be seen. You looked at the pamphlet once more before folding it and tucking it away for later.

“I cannot believe you spoke to Fr. Barba like that,” Maria continued.

“Wait - what? He’s a priest?”

Maria nodded. She then pointed to your still soaked appearance. “You can see your tits through your tanktop. Wrong day to not wear a bra. You look like you could win a wet-tshirt contest.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment as you looked down and realized Maria was in fact correct.

“Probably thanked God - that celibate life must be rough,” Robbie laughed. “He’s been a priest for how long? I can’t imagine not having sex.”

You weren’t listening though, too consumed in your embarrassment and attraction. Of course the hottest man on the planet is a fucking priest. ‘And of course I would basically flash him.’

Later that evening at home, you poured some kibble in a bowl for your cat and heated up a quick meal. As you waited for your food to finish, you rifled through your closet for something to wear to church. Your eyes landed on a sundress that you knew was probably much too short for church. You frowned and kept looking until you found the perfect outfit.

You told Maria that you were going to attend mass. You had already promised the hot priest you’d come to the fellowship group. If you didn’t show, then you would be a liar, and you couldn’t lie to a priest - right?

—

The following morning you found yourself at church with Maria.

“I want to sit up in the front,” you whined as the both of you shuffled into the pew.

“I’m too hungover to sit in the front,” Maria grumbled. “You think I can get away with leaving my sunglasses on?”

You rolled your eyes. “This is probably the one mass you can get away with that shit,” you replied before slapping your mouth with your palm. “I didn’t mean to curse, shit, oh no, God damnit!”

Maria laughed at your foul mouthed word salad. “You can confess to Fr. Barba after.”

The organ began to play and you stood. You motioned to Maria to stand and she ignored you, instead choosing to rest her head on the back of the bench of the pew in front of her. You watched as the altar servers carried in the items needed for mass - Cross, the processional candles, incense and Bible. Your eyes followed as Fr. Barba walked behind. He wore green vestments and you vaguely recalled that the color of the robes indicated where you were along in the church calendar.

Mass went as typically as you remembered. You sang from the hymnal, prayed along the congregation, and actually listened to the homily instead of daydreaming about being anywhere else. Fr. Barba was straightforward, discussing Jesus’ anger.

“Paul commands us in Ephesians 4:26, be angry and do not sin; don’t let the sun set on your anger. I’ve heard a lot of sermons on the “but do not sin” part: anger can give opportunity to the devil and birth all manner of hell in relationships. I’ve also heard a lot of sermons on the “do not let the sun go down on your anger.” But I haven’t heard any sermons on these two words: be angry.”

Fr. Barba paused before continuing. “Be angry. As we look upon a world of injustice and abuse, even in the church, we can learn how to be angry in love together. And we learn this the way Paul did: from Jesus. Jesus got angry. Regularly. And we see a pattern in his anger: whenever someone vulnerable or powerless suffered injustice at the hands of the strong and powerful, Jesus opposed this injustice with loving anger.”

The Liturgy of Word concluded and then transitioned into the Liturgy of the Eucharist. You watched intently as he performed prayers and rites in Latin that had existed for thousands of years.

It was time for Communion but you didn’t feel up to receiving. So instead, you just watched. As you scanned the church, your eyes locked with Rafael’s. He was watching you, a frown on his face. You felt your cheeks grow hot once more and you turned away out of embarrassment.

Mass concluded shortly after. The fellowship hour was immediately afterwards, held in the basement of the church. Maria had zero interest in attending so you parted ways before heading down. The smell of incense and something very “churchly” permeated in the air as you walked down the dimly lit stairs.

The basement was as expected, acoustic tile ceiling, fluorescent lights, that unique slight churchy smell, boxes of various items, beige metal folding chairs, long tables, pillars in the middle of the room holding up the sanctuary one floor up. There was a life-size nativity in the back, with a Joseph whose hand was broken and an unfortunate beheaded sheep statue. Someone was setting up a coffee maker and someone else was plating store-bought cupcakes.

You chit-chatted with some congregants, majority of whom you met at the block party.

As you made a cup of coffee, you were unaware of Fr. Barba entering the room. It was only when you heard his voice and the sound of people shuffling to sit. You turned, sipping your coffee as you did so. No, Fr. Barba was no longer in those ceremonial robes that hid away everything. Instead, he wore fitted dark denim with a black shirt and his collar.

Your eyes tracked him as you continued to speak with others. You made sure to glance back to the folks you were speaking with - implying you were listening when you really weren’t. You watched as he moved easily through the room, greeting people, making jokes. What a waste of good looks.

People began to slowly sit, the chatting quietly winding down. Eventually, you took a seat. Everyone sat in a circle and you felt as if you were in an AA meeting.

“Welcome,” Fr. Barba began. “Thank you all for taking the time to come today.” He turned his gaze to you and stretched his arm in your direction. “We have a newcomer.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in the corner.

You gave a small smile and waved, before introducing yourself.

There was a more in depth discussion of the readings from the mass. You hung onto every word Rafael said. Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba you chanted in your mind as if you were trying to ensure that stayed in your mind.

He’s a priest you told yourself. He’s Father - not Daddy.

—

You became a regular at church and also at the afternoon fellowship. You were usually quiet, opting to listen more so than anything. Today was different.

Fr. Barba asked the group to share their most favorite parts of scripture; he had anticipated the majority of responses - Genesis, one of the Gospels, Proverbs. Your comment made his stomach flip.

“I personally enjoy Song of Songs,” you offered. “It celebrates sexual love.”

“Jewish tradition reads it as an allegory of the relationship between God and Israel,” Fr. Barba offered.

“In Christianity, it is read as an allegory of Christand his bride, the Church,” you countered.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me,” Fr. Barba responded.

You flushed. “His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. It is an unabashedly sensuous, even at times quite erotic, paean to love,” you continued as you leafed through the Bible you held.

“No matter what interpretation you choose to believe, the book is a powerful and profound reminder of the beauty and depth of God’s love for us. It is a beautiful book that has been celebrated for centuries and one that can still bring joy and comfort to believers today.”

There was a pause and then Rafael clapped his hands. “I think that’s enough to stop for now. Thank you all for coming. I’ll see you all next week.”

You hung back, helping to clean up. Slowly the group dissipated, leaving you and Fr. Barba alone.

“You’re still here.” Fr. Barba’s voice was thick and dark. You shivered in response.

“I really enjoyed myself today,” you replied softly as you approached him. You closed the gap between you and him. You could press your hands to his chest if you wanted to.

Oh how you wanted to.

Your nipples strained against the confines of your top. You wanted to drop to your knees and show your worth - take another type of communion.

‘Behave,’ you told yourself.

“Did you now?”

His expressive, bright green eyes are now dark and stormy. His jaw is tight. You swallow hard.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I won’t have it,” he continues. His voice is clipped and you shivered in response.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not playing at anything Father. I’ll see you next week.”

Rafael didn’t reply. He watched as you turned about and walked away with a deliberate sway of your hips. His eyes were focused on your ass. All he wanted to do in that moment was to haul you over a pew and spank your ass for your insolence. His cock ached and twitched in his pants.

You turned back towards him, a full smile gracing your face. “I’m really looking forward to being a member of this congregation.”

Once you were gone, Rafael sat down on a folded chair dismayed.

He was so screwed.

God almighty help him.

—

It was a delicate dance. There was a part of you that enjoyed toeing the line with Fr. Barba. And part of you felt a smidge guilty. But fuck, he was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

As Fr. Barba. Well, you weren’t alone in the desperate want and lust you were feeling.

He played with you in his fantasies. He knew what he was getting into when he became a priest. He swore to God to not know another’s body. It was the least he could do considering he killed baby Drew.

He wasn’t supposed to have these kind of thoughts.

It had been so long and he was under your spell.

After the group meeting, he had to hustle back to his home - a small home attached to the rectory. He made quick work of removing his clothes. He hissed as grasped his aching cock. Stroke, stroke, stroke.

Self pleasure was also a no-no.

Masturbation involved lust. It’s to use another person for your own selfish pleasure. The person becomes an object and it denigrates their dignity as a human being.

When he was around you, he wanted to throw everything into the wind. The image of your soaked tits haunted him. He threw his head back as he continued to jerk himself. Desire. You made him fucking feral.

He imagined kissing you after the meeting the second you and him were alone.

His lips crushed against yours. He pressed your back against the wall, his knee parting your legs.

One hand tangled in your hair, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot of your skin.

It was as if you released a part of him that he had kept tucked away for so long.

He stripped away your top, before mouthing your tits before dropping to his knees. Your hand moved through his hair.

“Taste me,” you’d beg. You’d beg so nicely and who was he to deny his lamb?

He imagined grabbing your ass, pulling your dripping pussy to his mouth. You would drape a leg over his shoulder, grounding yourself hard against his mouth.

“Fuck, right there. Just like that.”

He would put his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting, licking, and sucking.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” you’d moan. “Don’t stop. Oh God, I am going to come. Please, fuck me.”

He would undo his belt and drop his pants, grasping his cock in his hand. He’d rub the head of his cock along your folds, teasing you until neither one of you could stand it before burying himself deep inside of you.

“I want everything you’ve got. I want to feel it all.”

“Is that what my little lamb wants? To be fucked hard like a whore?”

“Yes,” you’d beg. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Come for me little lamb,” he’d encourage. You’d fall apart at his words. He could imagine how your wet, soft, pussy would suck his cock in, deeper and deeper. He would imagine thrusting deep and hard, his cock dragging against your sweet spot. He’d come hard, deep inside of you, his come painting your walls.

In reality he grunted and groaned as his cock kicked. He came all over his hand and belly. He panted, waiting for his breath to even out.

‘Shit.’

—

It was a gloomy Tuesday morning as Rafael worked in his office. Homilies were a lot like closing arguments. Instead of trying to sway the jury, he had to connect with his congregants. Instead of evidence, it was the gospel.

He was distracted. His mind kept wandering to you. Were you some kind of a test for him?

You were under his skin. An itch that couldn’t be scratched. Or stroked. You had consumed his thoughts.

He tore the yellow sheet off the pad before crumpling it.

Rafael tried very hard to live a holy life, especially as he had known what life was like, could be like, outside of the church.

And until now, through God’s grace, he had done very well.

He looked at the time. Confession was to start soon. Confession wasn’t popular. Usually before the bigger high holidays, people would come in droves. But a regular, run of the mill Tuesday? Not a chance.

He had his regulars though, who would come without fail. They were long standing members of the community. Being bilingual was a big boost for the church.

Rafael put on his collar, and changed into dark slacks from jeans and then headed out.

—-

You peeked into the booth. Seeing that it was empty, you made your way in and sat down.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been… um, years since my last confession.”

Rafael was stunned. It was you.

‘Focus.’

You began with some menial, ordinary sins. Rafael focused on what you were saying, ignoring the throb of his cock.

“And, of course, this… all leads to the most wicked one.”

Rafael swallowed hard. “Go on.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Me?” Rafael questioned. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ “What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind and thoughtful. I probably shouldn’t say this because it’s so inappropriate, but you’re so fucking handsome. And it’s resulted in some wicked behavior.”

“Wicked how?” His hands ball into fists before he grabs the tops of his thighs hard, trying to steel his thoughts.

“I— I’m sorry. I need to go.” You’re stammering over your words, your heart racing.

Rafael heard the panic in your voice and he frowned. The confessional creaked as you stood. Rafael was filled with an overwhelming need to get you to stay. “We all sin. Including myself. God made us imperfect and can he really get to be disappointed in us when we do imperfect things?”

“I— I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. And I am filled with despair about wanting what I can’t have,” you reply softly. “What can I do about this? Can I say 10 Hail Mary’s or something?”

You continue. “And can I be absolved if I don’t feel bad about what I’ve done or said in the past? They’re all things I wanted to do.”

Rafael wracked his mind on what to say.

And before he could, he heard you open the door and leave. He stood quickly and pushed open the curtain. But it was too late. You were already gone.

—

Sunday mass came like clockwork.

As Rafael led mass, he scanned the pews for you. He was disappointed when he didn’t see you. He saw your friend and he made a mental note to talk with her afterwards.

“Fr. Barba, great service,” Maria commented as she shook Fr. Barba’s hand.

“Thank you. I- I am glad you came. You had been coming with your friend—“

“Oh! You mean — yeah, she couldn’t come today. She had some stuff to take care of. She’s new to the area and I know she could really use the community support,” Maria replied. She looked past Rafael and smiled brightly. “Oh there she is!”

Maria called your name. Rafael turned around and he saw you across the street. You were dressed more conservatively and he felt a wave of disappointment.

You half jogged across the street and before Rafael knew it, you had materialized in front of him.

“Hi,” you greeted as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Sorry to have missed mass.”

“It’s okay,” Rafael laughed. “It’s not like God is keeping tabs.”

You smiled. Maria turned to you. “Was just telling Fr. Barba how you could use some community.”

“Uh,” you blanched. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, help is always needed at the community center or food pantry,” Rafael offered. “Meet plenty of people that way.”

“Yeah, sure. I - I saw in the bulletin you were looking for someone to go over your books.”

Rafael shifted. “Um, I was looking more for a CPA—“

“Well you are in luck!” Maria hit your arm. “You’ve got your own CPA here.”

“I-I am not a CPA. I was treasurer of my sorority years ago,” you explained. “But I lost my job and I need money,” you shrugged. “That’s all.”

Rafael sighed and rubbed his neck. As much as Olivia was a bleeding heart, he was too, especially with his roots. “Um, stop by the rectory sometime next week and we can talk it through.”

You smiled brightly. “Oh that would be great! Really! Thank you.”

Rafael nodded. You turned to Maria. “We have to go. Reservations?”

Other congregants had started to line up to speak with Rafael. He turned towards the line, but not without glancing back, watching you walk away.

Rafael admired you from behind, appreciating how your jeans hugged you in all of the right places. A flash of heat coursed through him.

‘God damnit, what are you doing?’

—

You never came by. Or to mass. Rafael thought you might have had a change of heart. Perhaps your flirtation with religion had flamed out. He found himself longing to see you but also increasingly frustrated with himself. He busied himself as much as possible so that he couldn’t even think of you. You were the absolute last thing on his mind.

When you rapped on his door two and a half weeks later, Rafael was more than surprised. He was downright startled, like a horse with thunder. He had been knee deep in the church’s financial books.

“I’m sorry, I hope I am not intruding. I know it’s late.”

Rafael relaxed. “No, not at all. Please, come in, sit.”

You slunk in the chair with ease and eyed Rafael’s outfit. “You don’t look like a priest.”

Rafael arched a thick brow. “And what do I look like?”

“Like a regular guy. Someone I would meet at a bar,” you shrugged as you waved your arm as if to make a point. Rafael was wearing dark jeans with a button down, sleeves rolled up and brown brogues.

Rafael laughed. “Well, there was a point in my life where you would have found me there. Speaking of bars, would you care for a drink?”

“I thought priests could only drink church wine.”

Rafael laughed again. “No, no, we can drink more than church wine.” You heard the clatter of glass and the sound of liquid pouring. “Here,” Rafael turned to you, his arm outstretched, holding a lowball glass with amber liquid. “Macallan 18.”

You took it from him and swirled the liquid before sniffing. You closed your eyes as you took a sip. You hummed, pleased. “This is good. Dangerously good.” You took another sip. “Oh this goes down way too easy.”

‘I bet my cock will go down easy.’

Rafael coughed and shook his head. “Uh, yeah, it does.” He took a large swallow of his glass and then poured himself another glass.

“You’re wondering why I’m here now. Instead of two weeks ago.”

Rafael perched himself on the corner of his desk. “I am.”

“I wish I had a reason that made sense, but I don’t. The truth is…” you glanced around the office and it became very apparent that the room was decorated more like a legal office than what you assumed an office in a church would be like.

“The truth is?” Rafael prodded.

You stood and started walking around the room. Your hand trailed the spines of the stacks of books lined up. It was then when you spotted the law degree in the corner.

“Wait - you are a lawyer? And a priest? How does that work?”

“Was,” Rafael clarified, before taking a long sip of his drink. “Was a lawyer.”

“You don’t practice anymore?”

“No,” Rafael shook his head. “Not anymore.”

You walked up to the bar cart and poured yourself another drink. You took the chair and pulled it until you were sitting directly in front of Rafael. “Tell me.”

Hours passed. Rafael unloaded everything on you - his time at SVU, baby Drew, the why to choose a life of faith.

And that bottle of Macallan?

You stood very close to Rafael. Your hands pressed on his chest. You swayed slightly and Rafael placed his hands on your hips, steadying you.

“Hire me. I’m really good with numbers.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t going to have sex.”

You scoffed, before almost losing your footing. Rafael’s hands gripped your hips tightly. “Who said anything about us having sex?”

“Do you think I don’t realize what game you’re playing?”

“Game? I’m not playing a game. I need a job.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am not. Besides, do you even know how?”

Rafael pushed you away slightly. “Did you not just hear the story of my life?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Father.”

“The how?”

You walked back and closed the gap between you and him. “Yeah. The how. To fuck.”

Rafael’s eyes darken. He cupped your face and you leaned into his palm. He slowly walked around and behind you. He dropped his mouth to your ear. “I know how to fuck. I’ve fucked plenty. Men. Women. I know how to make someone come.”

A rumble emanated from Rafael’s chest. You spun on your heels and looked up at him. Rafael loomed over you, your eyes growing wide. Your breath hitched. “Is that so?”

Your faces were inches apart. You were breathing each other's air, growing dizzy over the shared breath. Your heart was thumping and you were so needy in that moment you thought you were going to burst.

“Little lamb, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You let out a whine. “Please.”

Rafael lifted your chin with his finger. Your eyes searched his before settling on his lips. His beautiful pink lips that you knew they knew how to kiss. And lick. And fuck. And make someone come.

“You’re a good priest Father Barba,” you whispered. “But you’re also a good man. And doesn’t a good man deserve a little indulgence every now and then?”

The tension in the room was thick, the air electric. You almost felt moved to tears in the desperate way you wanted him. And he wanted you.

The sound of sirens blaring broke the spell. You both jumped apart. You both stared at each other. Rafael couldn’t help but notice that you were flushed, and that flush was making its way down. You worried your bottom lip.

“It’s late,” you rushed. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

You spun on your heels and was about to dash out the door when Rafael gripped your wrist, pausing you in the middle of the door.

You looked back up at him with wide eyes.

“You start Monday,” Rafael gruffed. You nodded, unable to say anything.

You managed to squeak out an ‘okay.’ And before you realized it, the door was shut in your face.

—

Your first week was completely uneventful. As is the next. And the week after. You’re the epitome of well behaved and professional much to Rafael’s relief.

That still didn’t mean he didn’t imagine kissing you and then some. Or how when you leaned over his desk, he didn’t imagine lifting up your skirt and plowing into you. Or that when you chewed on your pen cap, he didn’t imagine his cock between your plump, soft lips.

Under the collar, he still was very much a man.

And you didn’t let him forget it. He lost track of the amount of times he had to get himself off. And still it didn’t nothing to quell the ache for you.

You threw yourself into the work and you actually found it quite fulfilling. You made plenty of friends and found yourself volunteering in other parts of the church - like working at the food pantry or singing as part of the church choir.

Summer ebbed into Fall. The air grew cooler. The days started to grow shorter and the leaves, once a vibrant green, were now tinged with yellow and orange, painting the city in a fiery palette.

You were working in the rectory that morning. When Myra, the arthritic receptionist, ended up in the hospital with pneumonia, you eagerly took over the job. You were busy enough with church duties as it was but it made sense for you to take over.

Utilizing your skills from past work experience, you ended up bringing St. Blaise into the 21st century thanks to Intuit and Microsoft.

Since you started, the more Rafael was able to get to know you. In turn, the more he wanted you. He did everything in his power to not even look at you for too long, at least when you were not not looking. It was hard - but Rafael was a glutton for punishment. Being around you made Rafael addicted.

It did seem as if you heeded his words - you were the utmost professional. You did such a good job that Rafael wondered if maybe he had misread the signals altogether and that one night was just the booze.

Then one particular evening, Rafael saw you walking with Maria, her boyfriend, and another gentleman. He didn’t want to stop and say hi - if anything he wanted to avoid it altogether and cross the street but you and him made eye contact. It would have been too awkward to avoid you by that point. It ended with the five of you at the local watering hole - where this gentleman who had his arm wrapped around you. Rafael didn’t enjoy how jealousy washed over him - he knew he did not have any right to you, or your body. And he would never be - you were never together like that.

You were waiting at the bar, ordering another round when Rafael joined you. You looked over at him and gave a small smile.

“So you’re on date then?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Rafael—“

“You live here, you can go on any dates and with whom.”

“He’s just— you and I— we never…

The bartender arrived with your drinks. You went to pay, but Rafael stopped you. “I got it.”

“Don’t you have to take a vow of poverty?” you asked as you grabbed some of the drinks. Rafael grabbed the remainder and the two of you walked back to the booth.

“One of the most common misconceptions about the Catholic priesthood is that all priests take a vow of poverty. In fact, most do not. Diocesan priests do not even make vows, they make “promises” of obedience to their bishop: chastity and to pray the Liturgy of the Hours. Vows, on the other hand, are typically made by members of religious orders, such as Franciscans, Benedictines, Dominicans, etc.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

You walked ahead of Rafael, a sway in your hips as you did so. Rafael’s eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath as he followed, exhaling slowly.

When your date - Eric - as he later learned - began mouthing off about theology and religion, Rafael rolled his eyes. Still, he wasn’t going to let himself get bested and using the skills he acquired from all the cross examinations he had ever done, basically annihilated the other guy. You snickered behind the glass of your drink but Rafael saw it and felt his chest puff.

At one point - Eric whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said was enough to make you blush and shift in your seat, smiling to yourself like you had a secret. Rafael didn’t miss it at all and he felt himself stiffen and his jaw tighten. Your eyes met once more, and you witnessed the visceral reaction he was having, saw that little flex of his jaw and the way his eyes glittered with something primal and possessive. You could see that part of him would gladly punch Eric, and even as Rafael’s eyes locked with yours, he didn't hide it. Briefly, the kind and generous priest was all gone. Even the smart and sassy lawyer was superseded: you saw the man, capable of lust and jealousy. Over you. The thought of inspiring those feelings in him made heat pool in your body, and you squeezed your thighs together. His eyes registered your expression: you were certain he knew how you felt.

By end of the night, you went to hug him good night but Rafael dodged you. You frowned and bid him adieu as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Rafael continued to head home - and had he turned around, he would have seen you still standing, watching him.

Another week went by.

The pounding on the door stirred Rafael awake. He looked over at the clock - it was a little after midnight. A breeze blew through, causing a chill to run through his body.

He tugged a t-shirt on and groused that he was on his way.

Rafael was not expecting to see you.

“Father,” you greeted. There was a very large bottle of Macallan in your hand. Your eyes trailed over the very sleepy priest in front of you. His hair was askew and he looked adorable. You swallowed at his tight white shirt and low slung gray sweats.

“What is going on?” Rafael asked. He reached in his pocket for his glasses.

“Fancy a chat about my existential crisis?” You thrusted the bottle of scotch into his arms and walked in, pushing slightly past him.

Rafael got a whiff of your shampoo and it sent all blood straight immediately to his cock. He looks back outside and satisfied not seeing anyone else, closes the door behind him. “Existential crisis?”

“Do you have any glasses?” You ask, ignoring his question, as you look around. You hadn’t ever been inside a priest’s dwelling and you were surprised at how normal it appeared.

“Wow.” You stopped misstep and looked around. “This is not what I expected.”

Rafael rubbed his neck. “Huh? Oh, what did you expect it to look like?”

“I don’t know. More holy? Crosses everywhere. Stacks of bibles? Not something out of an architectural digest - with a kitchen island!”

Rafael laughed. He took the bottle from your hand and walked over to the island where he placed the glasses. “A lot of this is from…” he waved his arm around. “Before.”

“Pre-priest Rafael.” You clarified as you walked over to where he was and took an amber filled glass.

“Yeah,” Rafael replied before taking a long drag of his drink.

You nodded and hummed before taking another sip. “When you were just a man. Who had sex. A lot.”

“I’m still a man.”

“Come on, you know it’s not the same.”

You knew better. You knew you shouldn’t.

What would your friends say, what would they do if they ever find out? What about the congregation and surrounding community?

This was bigger than you, bigger than him. What were you thinking?

But it’s Rafael. Fr. Rafael Barba. Not that it matters - he’s not actually yours. He belongs to God.

But now when he’s staring down at you the way he is right now, teeth catching his full bottom lip, sleep-tousled hair and stormy, smoldering eyes, you can’t help but fall from grace.

“Kiss me.”

“You know we can’t.”

“So? Kiss me anyway.”

“I’m a priest.”

“Kiss me anyway.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Rafael swallowed the remainder of his drink and let out a huff. He pointed a finger toward you. “You…you’re trouble.”

You closed the gap between you and him. The room felt electric. You pressed your hands onto his chest. “So? Kiss me anyway.”

Rafael sucked in a breath. You press yourself even closer, your hips automatically seeking his. Rafael pushed you away gently. “I told you we can’t. I told you I can’t.”

“Why are you denying what’s between us?” Your hands shook as you poured yourself another glass. You turned and leaned against the island. “God made us to be sexual creatures. It’s his design. It’s his idea, his gift to us.”

Rafael sighed in irritation. “Our sexual desires are no surprise to God. He made us, and He gave us a strong sexual desire to enjoy within the proper context.” He pointed to you and then to himself. “This is not the proper context. If I wasn’t a priest, then it would be different. This is real life. What we do has real consequences.”

“If you weren’t a priest,” you murmured. You swallowed the remainder of your drink and slammed it on the island. Warmth flooded your body and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or him or a combination of both. Likely the latter. “Tell me you want me. Tell me I was never imagining things.”

Rafael remained silent.

“You have the right to lose control. I know you think—”

“You don’t know what I think,” Rafael acerbically spat. “And no, I don’t have the right.” He began to pace. “You don’t know the misery I live in when you’re not around.”

“And you think I am not?” you questioned. Your voice wavered and your eyes welled with unshed tears. “It’s never been like this with anyone. Never. I want you. I can’t have you. But please - let me live in the solace that you want me too. That I was never imagining any of it. I am going crazy.”

Rafael paused mid-stride and looked at you. He took a deep breath.

“What’s it gonna be? I am begging you.”

It was like something in him snapped when you said that. Rafael slammed his own drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He walked over and pressed you against the island. You let out a squeak in response. You could feel how hard he was against your belly. He brushed some of your hair back. Your breath hitched and a flush spread along your skin.

“Say it again.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“No - repeat what you said at the end,” he all but growled. You chewed your bottom lip and nodded.

“I beg you.”

“God help me. You beg so prettily,” Rafael murmured. He pulled at you, hands grabbing at hips, lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss. It was over before you could register and you pulled back to look into his eyes. You wrapped your hands on his face and then dove back in, returning the kiss, equally as hard.

The momentum was desperate, frenzied, hands everywhere. You let out a gasp as Rafael backed you against the kitchen island. The scruff of his beard dragged against your skin, his lips working your jaw, your ear, moving down your neck, and you let out a strained moan. You pressed your hips upwards into his, feeling his erection. Rafael had to stop and inhale sharply before resuming his attack on your skin. The tips of his fingers find skin under your shirt, and dig into your flesh. One of your hands is twisted in his shirt, the other grasping the waistband of his sweats as he felt a leg curve around his; it was as if your body functioned in tune to keep him as close as possible.

Rafael’s lips found purchase on the hollow of your neck. You let out a groan as you sagged against him, melting into his embrace. The want was overwhelming.

His hands made way to the front of your jeans and he nimbly undid the button and fly before shoving his large hand down your panties. “So wet for me.”

And you are. You’re so fucking wet, it’s obscene.

The tips of his fingers drag through your slit.

“Fuck,” his teeth scraped along your jaw. “You’re soaking.”

He slid two fingers deep inside of you. You keened wordlessly into his shoulder, biting down on his shoulder to suppress a moan.

“No, no, pretty lamb. Look at me,” Rafael husked, his voice laced with an edge of dominance.

You pulled back and met his gaze. His fingers drove deep up into you, pumping, long and needy. His thumb rubbed against your clit. Your blood is boiling, your body vibrating. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers continue their momentum, finding that spongey spot inside of you that most folks couldn’t ever find.

The walls of your pussy ripple against his fingers. “Be a good little lamb and come for me.” It was Rafael’s turn to beg. “Be my good girl and give it to me.”

You chanted his name as if it were prayer as you come around his fingers. Your body is abuzz, vibrating. You whine out his name in three syllables as you coat his hand with your arousal. Rafael swallowed your cries as he covered your mouth with his. The kiss, which was initially passionate, slowed in intensity, to just soft, slow licks that almost felt reverent, worshipful. Eventually he pressed his forehead to yours and you both drank in each other’s air, breathing heavily. You whimpered as Rafael removed his fingers from your cunt. You watched him with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth. His eyes fluttered close as he let out an appreciative sound.

“Do I taste good, Father?” Your voice was laced with lust.

“My sweet, decadent little lamb,” Rafael complimented. “But we cannot do that again.”

“Do what?” You asked as you pushed him off slightly to give yourself room to drop to the floor. You palmed his cock through his pants, pleased with yourself as he groaned with want and need.

A car backfired and the sound caused you both to startle, effectively ending the spell. Rafael helped you up from the ground. “This cannot happen again.” His voice was firm. And before you could protest any more, you found yourself back outside, the door shutting in your face.

Rafael leaned against the door, his head pounding, his cock aching.

‘You idiot! You shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have given in to your melodic voice and sparkling eyes. You had no business being in his life.

But the crack he left open for you made him believe that he had more to lose now than when he met you at the block party all those moons ago.

He rubbed his face, tired and frustrated. And he went back to bed to once again to take matters in his own hands again. ‘Fuck.’

TBC.

#so good #literally so good #more more more!!#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba smut #priest kink #priest! rafael barba #priest! barba x reader #law and order svu au #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months ago

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could i please request ‘sex in a pool/hot tub’ for rafael barba

fem!reader :)

Hot Tub - [ Rafael Barba ] 18+

Prompt: Sex in a pool/hot tub

Word Count: 2678

Warnings: female!reader, smut - [vaginal fingering, semi-public masturbation]

A/N: this is my first oneshot in a while so yk, be nice :) also it’s my first one for rafael too, both in general and with smut so yeah… i wasn’t even going to post it but i figured why not? it might not be that bad so maybe yall can still enjoy it

Masterlist | Rafael Masterlist

After a long day spent on the icy slopes of Switzerland’s most famous ski resort, you were in desperate need of relaxation.

It wasn’t easy at times, keeping up with Rafael. Of chasing his constant need for adrenaline and following through on the utter thrill of hitting the ramps, landing with perfect grace in the thick snow each and every time. To be honest, it was rather frightening. You’d never skied before in your life and the entire time you were too afraid to hit any jumps that were higher than a foot or too. Most of the time you just sat there, making small snowmen in the snow as you waited for time to tick by.

Rafael didn’t mind though. He knew the only reason you’d come here was because of him, so he was more than happy to let you stay in your safety zone whilst he got the chance to show off around you — something you’d rolled your eyes at in the beginning but by the second or third day, had secretly grown to love. And he knew it. It’s why he kept going the rest of the day, gliding and zipping through the air like a damn expert and finding amusement in the way you’d dramatically roll your eyes each time he did.

To tell the truth, you didn’t like skiing one bit. It was scary, and dangerous, and you, for some reason, kept imagining that the Abominable snowman from that one Scooby-Doo movie was going to rise from the ground and kidnap you. It made you shiver just thinking about it. About some giant snowman's hands picking you up and carrying you away.

Terrifying, honestly.

But really, the only true reason you kept shivering was merely because it was freezing. It was so utterly cold as the snow fell around you that your nose was always red, you couldn’t even feel your ears and most importantly your skin kept stinging even beneath your snowsuit. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and all you ever wanted, from the moment you woke up, was for the day to be over so that you could finally get back to the cosiness of your cabin and slip into the blazing heat of the hot tub.

It may have been outside as well, and it may have been rather chilly as you ran to it but once you slid into the bubbles, it was like ascending into heaven. Or hell, given that it was warm, but whatever. It was simply perfect, and even more so when Rafael’s arms wrapped tightly around you, allowing the two of you to do nothing but bask in the comforting heat of the bubbles as you relished in each and every touch he would grace you with.

Only tonight, as you sunk happily into the cosy warmth of the water and felt the first sharp shiver of the goosebumps that riddled every inch of your skin at the sudden change in temperature, you got an idea. A far, far better idea of how to warm yourself up — Of how best to warm yourself up, and without the sole use of the jacuzzi’s bubbles… as by the time you’re done, they’re gonna be the very last thing present on your mind.

“Mi cariño, what are you doing all the way over there?” Rafael asked, tilting his head curiously as he watched you settle yourself opposite him, which was unlike any other night before when you had practically placed yourself on his lap and sucked all the heat from beneath his skin.

“There’s better jets on this side,” You said plainly, biting down on your bottom lip as you spread your legs as wide as you could.

He couldn’t see you clearly though, it was too dark. The bulb on the porch didn’t provide much actual, usable light but the two of you never really cared. You were always close enough for him to see, yet tonight he simply couldn’t see anything but the partially darkened shape of your figure sitting there quietly. He couldn’t see the small quirks of your mouth at the forceful brush of the jet against your sweet spot, the one that made you bite down hard on your lip in order to keep quiet. He couldn’t see the scheming glint that got lost in the lust that swallowed your eyes as you watched him, that one, small ray of light cascading over his face perfectly and allowing you to see the utter confusion that riddled his eyes.

He hadn’t figured it out yet, that much you were certain of. He didn’t know what your agenda was. What you were planning. It was all completely unknown to him, and quite frankly it was completely unexpected too, given your job. You were a sex crimes detective. You were well aware of the consequences of public masturbation and public sex, and never once would Rafael have ever thought you would risk your career to simply try it. But if you were being honest, that innocence he thought you had… That shyness you gave off mixed with your secret rush for knowing what it would feel like to tick public sex off your bucket list only made you that much more hot under your metaphorical collar and you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing it.

You spread your legs further, allowing the brute force of the jet to hit so right… So toe curlingly perfect against your sensitive clit that you threw out your arms to grip behind you, splashing water over the edge of the hot tub as you leaned your head back, letting the sweetest, most breathy, most arousal inducing moan pass over your lips.

Rafael was by your side in an instant, the water shifting so furiously around you that your body jerked back against the hard surface of the tub as settled himself down next to you. His eyes were wide from shock. From lust. From pure and utter deviance as he knew all too well what you were doing. He’d heard stories of women using water jets to get themselves off but he never so much as expected to hear you talk about doing it let alone actually see you. And in a public space such as this.

“You’re taking a big risk, mi amor,” Rafael whispered, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over your neck as he delved his hand down into the water, running two fingers painfully slowly over the thin cover of your bikini and stopping the jet from reaching you. “Exposing yourself out here like this?” He shook his head and tutted.

“It’ll be worth it,” You whispered, pushing his hand aside as you knew it would rile him up real good to see you get off on something other than his cock, his fingers or his mouth. And you were right, his eyes darkened the second you rocked your hips over the jet and as each sweet sounding whimper left your lips, his right eye would twitch in frustration. “Because God does this feel so, so good for me.”

As the pleasure driven words left your lips and only added to Rafael’s ever growing desire for you, you reached behind your neck and undid your bikini top, allowing it to fall gracefully forwards and expose the soft mounds of your breasts. Rafael’s eyes fell to them instantly like a heat seeking missile, his pupils blown wide with hunger and his need for dominance as he watched you trail your fingertips slowly up the valley of them.

You knew he always loved your breasts. Caressing them. Kissing them. Having them roll over his chest with every thrust of his cock inside you, anything he could do to simply feel them, he would, and you could tell by the way he clenched his teeth that it was driving him mad to see you be the one to touch them. To see you kneading them. To see you pinching and rolling those hardened buds between your fingers as you began to pant softly from the pure heat bubbling down around your pussy had him all but drooling with rage.

“You better stop that,” He demanded, his tone ripped right out of the courtroom as though you were a simple perp he was trying to break. You did nothing but grin mischievously at him, a soft, throaty whimper leaving your parted lips that had him thrust one hand down through the surface of the water and go straight to his hardening cock, rubbing it through the thin lining of his shorts and thinking of all the things he could do to you tonight. “Mi amor… I’m warning you.”

“You want me to stop?” You teased, mimicking his motions and happily going to touch yourself as even though the jet felt incredible, it wasn’t anywhere near what you needed tonight. You kept eye contact as you slid beneath your bottoms, the sloshing of the water slowly picking up around you as you drew faster and faster circles on your clit, making your own eyelids flutter in a way that drove Rafael crazy. “You're… Fuck… You’re gonna have to make me.”

Lifting off his seat with such force that it sent a wave of water spilling over the edge of the hot tub, Rafael grabbed your body and lifted you effortlessly off your own, a rather surprised squeal leaving your lips at the sudden rush of anticipation that flew through your veins. He spun you around, falling back onto the very jet that you’d just been pleasuring yourself on as you straddled his strong thighs, his mouth already working its way along the length of your neck, leaving hot, fiery kisses the whole way down as he headed for the delicious sight of your inviting breasts.

As his lips trailed down between the valley he shifted right, his tongue instantly swirling hot around your nipple as he got to work unravelling you. You gripped the back of his hair immediately, holding him closer to your chest as you tightened your legs around him, rolling your hips over his rock hard erection in a way that had him moan against your breast and take your nipple firmly between his teeth.��

The sound that left your lips as he tugged at it was indescribable, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled back, taking your lips in his as the desperate urge to feel every single part of you he could at once washed over him. You hummed softly into his mouth as he began to gently caress your waist, grazing his soft palms so slowly across every inch of your skin before dipping his fingertips deep into the flesh of your hips as he tugged you forward, one hand slipping down as you moved and quickly making its way beneath your bikini. He spread you open in an instant, your soft gasps escaping into his mouth as he ghosted his fingertips across the throbbing bud of your clit, feeling as you ground down against him for some much needed stimulation.

It was only then, when you whimpered out of dire need to have him inside you, did he plung himself right up and into you, his two thick fingers sliding so easily and so swiftly into your soaking pussy that you had to draw back. A long babble of swear words left your lips the second you did and he lingered inside you, his thumb teasing your aching clit before he curled his fingers ever so slightly and slowly began to pump them into you.

Even submerged in the water he could feel how wet you were. The slight thickness to your arousal as it coated his fingers and spilled out over his knuckles each time he thrust hard into you was unmissable and every drop of it that landed on him made him twitch beneath his shorts. God, he simply couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock and so he picked up the pace, your breathy pants like music to his ears as he pressed his thumb even hard atop your clit, moving in such slow, teasing circles compared to his thrusts that he could already feel you clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck… You’re even better than the jets,” You whimpered subconsciously, the mere sound of you alone, mixed with how truly senseless he was fucking you, making Rafael shudder fiercely as he leaned in to kiss you, wanting to taste the rest of the moans he was about to pull from you. Your hands slid up the length of his arms, clinging to his shoulders for much needed support as you moved your hips along with him, feeling as that pressure deep inside you quickly began to build at the new sensation of the ride.

“You think you can take a third, mijo?” Rafael whispered against your lips, yet he didn’t even wait for your desperation fuelled head nod before he slipped it snugly into you, having you cry out in sheer pleasure at the sudden way you stretched wider around him.

You dropped your head forwards, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he quickened his pace. You’d truly never felt anything like this before in your life, the way his fingers slid so quickly and so easily into you was sending you to further reaches that you’d ever felt before, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until toppled over.

And you were right, as after one last thrust of his fingers that he paired expertly with a perfectly pressured rub of your clit, he sent you hurtling over the edge into a pure and utter mind boggling pit of pleasure.

Your hips stilled as you practically burst on top of him, your deep, breathy moans unfortunately muffled against the crook of his neck as he carried you through it, causing him to tilt it slightly in order to hear you. And once he did, his own eyes rolled back into his head as he continued to circle your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as humanly possible so as to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of you as he could.

As you slowly began to come down, your chest heaving rapidly against his own, Rafael finally stopped, having brought you to the very brink of overstimulation with only one perfect orgasm. He pulled his fingers from inside you, giving your clit one last gentle rub before his hand left the water, where unfortunately for him you already were washed off by the time he could get his fingers to his mouth.

“Are you warm enough yet, mijo?” Rafael asked, a slight smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you lift your head like it weighed a ton, which to you, it might as well have as your whole body felt twice as heavy as normal with the weight of pleasure that had just come crashing down atop you.

That didn’t mean you weren’t willing to play along with his cruel game, though, and so you smiled, leaning forward to press a sloppy, lopsided kiss to his lips before directing them towards his ear.

“I’m freezing,” You whispered, feeling the way his hips jerked beneath you at the mere notion that he hadn’t warmed you up enough. You pulled back a touch, just to see every twitch of his lips as he slowly began to press his fingers, almost possessively, into your thighs again. “I think you might need to try again to help warm me up.”

“Well in that case,” Rafael replied, a soft groan leaving his lips when you ground down against him. “I think we better take this inside. Because mijo, the things I’m about to do to you…” He sucked in a breath, drawing his tongue up the length of your neck and towards your ear in a way that had you quivering already. “There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll land us both on the registry… for the very rest of our days.”

Like Rafael? Apply to his tag list here so you don’t miss out on his works!

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

Text

I rediscovered the 1995 Jekyll and Hyde gothic musical, and I’m jamming out all day every day to that right now.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

Text

Drudging Up the Past ~Cowgirl!Rita Calhoun xFem Younger(20s)!SVU!Detective!Reader

Summary: Rita Calhoun left New York on conflicting terms, and when SVU needs her back, they send Reader, their newest SVU detective. Rita now leads a completely different life down South. Can Reader convince Rita to come back?

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption, age gap (all legal), teasing, pet names, flustering, implied smut, implied future smut, the South, the Wild West, cowgirls.

Enjoy (;

“I know why yur here.” Rita drawled, emphasizing the why with her southern drawl.

You shifted in your seat a bit, gulping and taking a deep breath, as you felt the brunette’s gaze rake up and down your frame slowly and surely. You had been sent by SVU to go wrangle the infamous defense attorney turned vigilante cowgirl, Rita Calhoun. SVU had had a massive influx in victims in need of defense, victims who were going to go to jail and have their perpetrators go free if you didn’t convince Ms. Calhoun.

“Y-you do…?” You stammered, trying to mask how much she intimidated you with a smile.

Finding Calhoun had been the easy part. Captain had had an old friend, one Alex Cabot, who had also given up the law for the life of cowgirl vigilantism. Through Benson’s connections, she had reached out to Alex and the blonde cowgirl had aided you in your search for Ms. Calhoun.

You had found the brunette in an old, small town in the middle of the Deep South in nowhere-land. You had walked into the town bar when minutes later, the woman herself had came up behind you.

“Mhmmmm… You came to try an’ convince myself to return back.” Rita hummed with a nod.

A shiver ran down your spine as she took a seat next to you at the bar. You had never met the woman before, only having heard of her glory days from one of Olivia’s friends, Rafael. But now that she sat next to you, you couldn’t help but check her out. Your eyes roamed up and down, checking out all the denim and leather that the cowgirl was set in. Your cheeks warmed and you couldn’t help but feel the warmth slowly spreading throughout your entire body.

You came back to reality as Rita chuckled at your speechlessness and took her beer from the bartender, taking a nice long sip. You quickly looked away, realizing that she had placed a beer in front of you too.

“How did you know I’m SVU?” You asked.

Rita’s visage broke out in a satisfied smile as she slowly sipped her beer. You struggled to not ogle her neck as she craned it back slightly to take another sip of her beverage. She let her eyes roam back to your form, it made you feel like she was undressing you in front of everyone.

“I didn’… you jus’ confirmed it for me.” Rita chuckled, quite proud of yourself.

Your face reddened and you quickly grabbed your beverage and took a long sip, attempting to hide your blush behind the alcohol. Fuck. Well there was no denying it now…

“Guess I’m busted…” you breathed out with a small guilty smile.

“Mmm, you’re not too bad, honey…” Rita purred, giving you another side eye.

Now that made you go red in the face and nearly choke on your own breath. Rita watched you in amusement.

“I suppose we’ve never been formally introduced… Rita Calhoun.” Rita nodded towards you, saving you from the embarrassment and changing the subject.

You meekly replied with your own name and told her about how you had joined SVU soon after she had left New York. Rita listened as you retold all the events that had gone down since her departure, and you saw her visibly soften at hearing that Olivia and Rafael had made up.

“So there’s no way you’ll come back? We really need you…” you begged, leaning into the woman’s space a little too much.

Rita swiveled her body to face you fully and her gaze raked up and down your body once more.

“I could possibly be convinced…” She drawled.

“Convinced?” You innocently asked, your ears quirking up.

“That is why Benson sent you ain’t it…?” Rita purred, sizing you up and shimmying up right next to you, making you only inches away from burning denim and leather.

You gulped and attempted to look away, but the cowgirl’s fingers swiftly gripped your chin and kept your gaze on hers. She wore her signature smirk as her eyes dazzled with intention.

“H-how…?” You stammered in a hushed whisper, caught in the trance of the other woman.

Rita chuckled and leaned into your personal space, letting her lips graze the shell of your ear. You involuntarily shivered as a result, your body revolting and humming in anticipation in spite of your logical objections.

“The cowgirl hat rule…” the older woman purred in your ear, biting your earlobe after her hushed admission, “Tell me to stop, honey…”

Your breathing was shallow at the point and your skin was riddled with goosebumps. You squirmed in your seat as the woman nibbled at your ear, eagerly awaiting any sign from you that she ought not to stop.

“What—what’s the cowboy hat rule…?”You squeaked in a whisper, your face going red at the fact that you were in a very public place as the brunette was teasing you.

If you could have seen Rita’s shit eating grin, you would have realized that she knew that had caught you, hook, line, and sinker… She licked a strip of your bare neck before replying.

“You wear the hat. And ride the cowgirl…” Rita purred, before biting down on the strain of your neck.

“Ohh…!” You whimpered lewdly, your eyes screwing themselves shut tight as pleasure coursed through your body from that bite.

Rita then licked and gently sucked the place where your skin was red with bite marks. She hummed in satisfaction as you craned your neck back even further and practically handed yourself to her in the middle of the bar. Suddenly, the cowgirl pulled back. Your eyes shot wide open and your face turned a deep red as you came back to reality.

“Is that a yes, honey…?” Rita drawled with lustful eyes and her shit eating grin.

“Y-yes…!” You whined, attempting to lean into the woman as you spoke but being curtly denied.

Rita shook her head and stood up. She leaned in once more to say one last thing before her hips swayed away.

“Alrighty, but not here. Follow me, Darlin’…” she cooed lustfully in your ear.

She payed for both of your tabs before guiding you out to the bar. Your heart was hammering and you were completely mesmerized by the cowgirl. No one in New York could have prepared you for how utterly irresistible Ms. Rita Calhoun was…

Fin.

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

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Pets Don’t Go Unfucked ~Dark!Dom!Mafia!Boss!Rita Calhoun xFem Sub!Younger(20s)!Pet!Reader

Summary: Rita Calhoun is the local mob boss and Reader is her play pet. Calhoun’s pet is always there, ready to serve Rita when the woman needs her favorite toy. Reader is happy to oblige.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: DARK fic, dubious consent, smut, little angsty I guess, clit stimulation, vaginal penetration (with a gun), use of a vibrator, degradation, overstimulation, begging, pet kink, ma’am kink, gun kink, degradation kink, implied praise kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

An unbridled sob left your trembling lips as another orgasm crashed into your achey limbs. Your body convulsed as intense waves of pleasurable pain shot through you. Your head shot back and you couldn’t help but roll back your eyes as you let out a languid cry.

Rita Calhoun was sitting in front of you, watching you struggle with a pleased and amused smirk. She held a gun in her left hand, which currently rested on her thigh. She watched as you thrashed against the chair that she had sat you in, desperately fighting the growing pain.

The seasoned woman had placed a certain vibrating toy into your heat, one which intensified every twenty minutes. The toy had been in your cunt for what felt like hours, and you had been pushed over the edge at least half a dozen times. Rita had sat back in her chair and enjoyed the show as you cried for mercy.

As you lolled back down from your high, your head was swimming. She then finally turned the vibrating toy off for the moment. You were drooling and your fists were clenched tight. You managed to bring your gaze high enough to meet the dangerous’ woman’s gaze. She was smirking wickedly, as she tapped her gun against her leg.

“Has my favorite pet learned her lesson…?” Rita tauntingly purred.

With her words, the woman brought the gun to your chin and used it to tilt your head up in order to fully see you. Your throat hitched at this act, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by the older woman. You nodded eagerly and with wide eyes, anxiously licking your lips as a habit.

“Yes ma’am I’m sorry m-ma’am I’ll be a good pet—” you whimpered, closing your eyes to desperately stop the tears from falling right in front of her.

“Awww… does my pet wanna cry…?” Rita mocked, pushing the barrel of the gun further against your throat as a clear threat.

“I—I’m sorry ma’am—!!” You wailed, wincing and preparing for more shock waves of pleasurable pain.

But instead, Rita’s hand snuck in between your legs and removed the toy. Your eyes widened and your jaw nearly dropped. Relief flooded your features, making the brunette chuckle.

“Don’t think I’m not done with you…” Rita cooed, waggling her gun in the air in front of you.

Your eyes widened and you gulped. The wicked grin on the woman’s face made your stomache drop and your cunt clench.

“Spread your legs, pet.”

You instinctually opened your legs wide for her, regardless of how overstimulated you were. It didn’t matter, if Rita told you to do something, you did it. Rita hummed in satisfaction, before teasingly running the her steely gun along your inner thighs, one by one.

“You think I’d leave my pretty pet’s pussy unfucked…? Your pretty clit’s all puffy, I think you need a puffy pussy to match.” Rita purred, meeting your gaze with lustful eyes.

Before you could even start to comprehend what Rita was saying, you felt the barrel of her gun against your cunt. The cool metal of the weapon was a stark contrast to your slick, warm folds, so stark that the contact made your body spasm. You gripped the sides of your chair in a vice grip as she teased your folds with the cool metal. Your eyes fluttered closed as you attempted to mentally prepare yourself for the sinful atrocity that was about to take place.

“Look at me.” Rita commanded with sneer.

Your eyes shot open and your watery eyes met her dark and dangerous ones. Rita’s gaze never left yours as she dragged the gun around your cunt and smeared your arousal all over her toy.

“Tell me, Pet, how desperate you are for me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours with my gun…” the woman lustfully demanded.

“I… m-ma’am p-please… please fuck me… I’m your slutty pet… I need it I need your gun… please I’ll be such a good pet…!” You mewled, thrashing in overstimulation as she teased your raw clit.

Rita looked you right in the eyes as she slowly pressed her gun into your heat. The adrenaline was coursing through you as you kept your gaze on the woman and simultaneously felt the cool metal enter you. There was less resistance than you had expected, but maybe you were just so soaked and so desperate, you thought.

Your jaw dropped as it began to fill you up, and you had to remind yourself to breathe every other beat. Your knuckles turned white along the chair and you fight to keep your legs open wide. Rita’s visage broke out into a Cheshire Cat grin as your pussy sucked in the front half of the gun.

“Oh you love this, don’t you pet? You’re my dirty slut, who loves to be fucked with my gun…” Rita sinfully spewed.

You nodded eagerly with an open mouth as she bottomed you out with her weapon. It was so filling that you couldn’t help but curl your toes in pleasure. The pain was there, but it was worth it, it would be so worth it.

“P-please…!” You squeaked.

“Please what?” She shot back, demandingly.

“Please fuck me—!!” You cried out.

“Happily, Pet.” Rita chuckled darkly.

Fin.

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

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i just think they should kiss <3

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

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You Have My Attention ~Rita Calhoun xFem Reader

Summary: Rita Calhoun is representing Matt Garper, Reader’s boyfriend who is on trial for multiple counts of physical and sexual assault. Rita faces a dilemma when Reader shows up at her door late one night. Something doesn’t sit right with Rita, and so she invites Reader in.

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Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: angst, fluff, implied abuse, accidents, implied trauma, reader is an abuse survivor, implied physical abuse, implied sexual assault, age gap (all legal) comforting, eventual happy ending.

Enjoy (;

Rita was pouring herself her nightly glass of wine when she heard a couple raps coming from her front door. The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exhaustion. She had had a long day of defending the kind of asshole client that she knew she wouldn’t like to be defending ethically but paid extremely well so therefore she overlooked her gut instinct.

This particular scumbag had been accused of multiple counts of physical and sexual assaults. She had only taken him on originally as a favor to one of the other name partners at her firm. Then even with her growing doubts, she stayed on him as a client because as she justified it to herself a) Rita Calhoun was anything but a quitter, and b) what he was paying could fund her future Prada and Manolo shopping spree’s for months.

So Rita did what she did best in scenarios like this, she mentally disconnected and distanced herself. With another sigh, the brunette sauntered to the door, carrying her glass of liquid relaxation in her left hand. She took a sip before she looked through the peep hole. She opened the door and her brows scrunched in perplexing confusion, as she gazed upon the trembling girl standing in front of her, a girl who seemed familiar but someone who she couldn't quite place her finger on.

“Can I help you?” Rita asked, skeptically.

You hadn’t intended for things to go so bad so quickly. You couldn’t grasp how things had turned out like this. One year ago, you were a successful, independent, young woman in Manhattan. You had your own apartment, you made your own living, life had been good. Now, you were homeless, friendless, jobless, and all and all hopeless. All you had was Matt. And now that was coming crumbling down in front of you as well.

It had all gone to shit. And that’s how you ended up at Ms. Calhoun’s doorstep late into the evening. You had gotten her business card from Matt, and the doorman seemed to have let you in partially because of the card and partially out of pity. Now you stood in front of the older woman, anxious and unsure of how to start.

“Hi.” You nervously and awkwardly breathed out.

Rita quirked her brow and tilted her head in partial confusion but also some amusement. But the way her right hand gripped the door frame told you that she wasn’t convinced of your intentions. You had learned to read people’s intentions in the last year, especially if their intentions involved accidental violence.

You felt the woman's gaze on you, her eyes raking up and down your frame. Your hair was in a loose, low bun, you were wearing baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were too big for you. You always carried the only purse you had with you as well. You didn't look your best. In fact nowadays, you never looked good. Matt insisted on it everyday. You could be pretty enough if only you tried harder, sweetheart. You're lucky I'm with you, baby, because no other man would be with someone as disappointingly mediocre as you. You looked to the ground in shame as you felt Rita's scrutinizing gaze along with Matt's voice ringing in your head.

“Hello…” Rita spoke unsurely, before the defense attorney in her arose, "Who are you? How did you get up here? What do you want?"

Your eyes shot up and you flinched as Ms. Calhoun's voice had hardened and turned defensive. You were anxious and instinctively began fidgeting with your hands, while you gaze fluttered swiftly back to the ground. You began having second thoughts. Maybe this was a bad idea. What if Matt found out? That thought alone made fear grip your entire being, making you start to backtrack.

"I—I'm sorry Ms. Calhoun^^I didn't mean to intrude, please forgive me I'll leave now…" you rambled, before attempting to rush off.

Something in your demeanor as Rita had questioned you— the way you had flinched, the fear in your eyes, your trembling frame— it sparked something in the woman that she couldn't let go. Maybe it was compassion? Sympathy, or care? No, that was ridiculous. Rita didn't even know how she knew you. But it gutted Rita, enough to grab ahold of your arm and halt you from leaving.

"Wait—" Rita called out, stepping out in the hallway to effectively halt your presence and turn you back to face her.

Your eyes widened and you jerked back at the contact, looking at the woman like she had burned you. You instinctually backed yourself against the hallway wall across from Rita's doorway. Your breathing grew to be labored and your head began spinning. Before you knew it, you were collapsing against the wall, sinking to the floor with choked sobs.

Rita was not rendered speechless often, but your intense reaction at such a simple touch had done it. She stood there in front of you for a second, unsure of what to do. However, as the shock wore out, some kind of instinct seemed to kick in. Instincts which Rita never knew she had, or rather instincts that Rita preferred to keep buried in her subconscious.

You had curled up with your face in your knees and your arms around them both as you hiccuped in between chocked sobs. Suddenly, you could feel the older woman's presence having come closer. You sensed she had crouched down next to you, but this time conscious enough to not be touching you.

"Are you… okay?" Rita gently asked.

You sighed and stopped your crying, wiping your eyes, sitting back against the wall and stretching your legs out with your hands going into your lap to anxiously fidget with each other. Your eyes looked back to the ground in shame, feeling too embarrassed to look at Ms. Calhoun. You took a deep breath and your breakdown seemed to vanish entirely, your face going completely stoic. You finally turned to look at the woman.

"I apologize. This was inappropriate. And it is none of your concern. I need to leave." you coldly spoke, waving the other woman off like your reaction and overall presence was nothing.

You proceeded to stand up, dust yourself off, grab your purse which had haphazardly fell to the floor as you had collapsed, and prepare to make your leave. You turned back to Ms. Calhoun one last time to bid her farewell. This had been a moment of weakness, a mistake.

"Again my apologies Ms. Calhoun, good day." You emotionlessly stated, before giving the woman a fake smile.

This time something inside Rita became so triggered she struggled to contain her rage. Something was so very wrong. But she wasn't sure what. However as you had given her your masked smile, it clicked for the woman who you were. And before you could leave, Rita cleverly placed herself physically in between you and the elevator down the hall.

"It's no matter. You are Mr. Garper's girlfriend, aren't you…? Is that why you're here?" Rita probed cautiously, afraid she might scare you away again with her questions.

Your eyes widened as if you had been caught, and you clutched your purse tight and defensively to your stomache.

"This was a mistake, I shouldn't be talking to you without Matt's permission, you're his laywer not mine…" you anxiously rambled.

Rita stepped in front of you again when you attempted to move past her. She brought her hands out tentatively, trying to suade you into calming down and talking to her.

“Please. Come inside. I’ll make some tea.” Rita suggested, indicating to her open door while still holding her wine.

You took a step back and took a deep breath. You wanted to run, but as your gaze met the other woman’s, you felt a calm come over you. For some reason, your body was letting down its guard in her presence. You were unsure, but thought that simply having tea wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

“Alright…” you breathed out.

Rita looked pleased at your words and she nodded with a small smile. She beckoned you to follow her into her apartment, which you did cautiously. You were still on edge, but you slowly began to calm down as she had you sit down. The woman put some hot water on the stove and set aside her wine for the moment, before turning her attention to you.

“Alright you have my attention. We’ve never been formally introduced, Rita Calhoun, and you are…?” Rita hummed, leaning into and up against her kitchen island opposite of where you sat.

You told the woman your name followed by, “Matt Garper’s girlfriend”

Rita nodded and sighed, clasping her hands together in front of her on the counter. Your eyes fluttered all around the woman, constantly attempting to gauge her reactions and intentions.

“I see. And you know that I currently represent Mr. Garper.” She spoke elegantly.

You silently nodded.

“Is that why you’re here? For your boyfriend?” Rita asked.

You shook your head hesitantly and then looked down into your lap. You couldn’t help but bite your lip and pick your finger nails in order to cope with how anxious and uncomfortable this topic was for you. As Rita waited for you to respond, she grabbed two mugs and poured your tea. She then leaned in closer to you and passed you the mug across the counter. You took the scorching hot tea and gently blew on it before speaking.

“He doesn’t know I’m here…” you whispered.

Rita pursed her lips after taking a sip of her tea and nodding.

“I see. Then how did you find me?”

“Matt had your business card, and I found it. I called your office, but they said you had already gone home.” You confessed while still not meeting her gaze.

“Then when I told them it was an emergency, they got me your address. Your doorman let me in… I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Rita watched you with intrigue, amusement, and a hint of skepticism.

“What emergency?” She bluntly asked you.

You managed to drag your gaze up to meet hers. Your eyes welled up with potential tears. You gripped your mug tight. Your lip began to tremble.

“You can’t defend my boyfriend” you whispered, before just as quickly looking away again.

You shuddered as you heard those words leave your lips, instinctively lifting your mug up to your lips to attempt to soothe your bubbling nerves with the hot tea. When you managed an anxious gaze to Rita, the woman had just taken a sip of her own tea, as she placed the mug down on the counter with an inquisitive look.

“I don’t think I understand…” Rita slowly spoke.

You bit your lip and your feet in turn began fidgeting with one another as your hands held the hot mug.

“I— Don’t defend Matt…” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest and ringing in your ears.

“Matt doesn’t know you’re here…? And you’re asking me not to defend him…?” The woman questioned.

You shook your head swiftly. Tears began to well up in your eyes. All the anger and sadness that you had been pushing down over the last year was coming bubbling up…

“No— I mean yes!” You blurted out, losing the grip on your mug as you stumbled over your words and letting the scalding tea cascade into your lap and down your legs.

The mug crashed and shattered with a loud smash! in the ground a second later. Rita gasped and immediately rushed to grab two towels, immediately coming around to your side of the island. Your eyes went wide and you threw your hands up and over your face in defense.

“I—I’m sorry I’m so sorry^^I didn’t mean it I’m sorry please don’t I’m sorry—!!” You cried.

But nothing came unto you. Instead, when you peaked out from your hands, you saw Rita crouched down and cleaning up the spilled tea on the ground with one towel. Once she had finished that, she looked up to you with the other clean towel in her hand.

“May I?” She asked, indicating to your wet lap and legs.

You nodded hesitantly. The woman then gently and slowly cleaned you up, swipe by swipe. You shivered at her touch. It was so unlike what you normally received. Unlike Matt, her touch was warm and soft, and almost caring. After she had cleaned you up to the best of her abilities, she went to clean up the broken shards of the mug. As you watched her, the guilt of your actions couldn’t not eat away at you.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, looking down in shame.

“Don’t apologize. It was an accident.” Rita hummed softly, going to the trash can and proceeding to throw the broken mug away.

You blushed and managed to nod slowly. Rita got you a glass of water and slid it across the counter. You took it graciously and with a murmur of a thank you. Rita then went back to her wine, deeming this night to be a long one. Considering, she invited you to join her in her living room. You both sat down on her lavish couch, next to each other but enough room for you to breathe and be in your own space. Awkward silence had filled the room since Rita had last spoke.

“Matt doesn’t know I’m here… but I don’t want you to defend him” you murmured, before taking a big gulp of your water.

Rita leaned back against the couch, bringing one hand to prop up her head while the other brought the glass of wine to her lips. She seemed to be trying to slowly figure you out as you sat next to her.

“And why is that…?” She hummed.

A audible beat of silence took the room before you responded in a meek whimper.

“Because he’s guilty…” you confessed, your face going a deep red and your eyes tearing up once more.

Rita sat straight up and immediately placed her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes went wide as she looked over to you, realizing the implications of your admission.

“We cannot be having this conversation, I could be subpoenaed.” She said in a rushed tone.

But your resolve was too far gone. Tears had started to spill down your cheeks. Your hands were shaking, and the look of hopelessness mixed with terror you gave Rita made the woman’s heart tug toward your dilemma.

“P-please… don’t defend him…” you sputtered, through silent cries.

“How… do you know he’s guilty…?” Rita slowly spoke.

“B-because he’s done all those things to m-me…!” You sobbed, losing it and starting to wail in front of the woman.

Rita’s heart broke at the sight of you and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought she was feeling compassion. She had never seen this side that came with defending clients. The brunette swiftly moved closer to you, taking your water and putting it aside, before taking your trembling hands into her own.

“I… I don’t know what to do— I’m sorry.” Rita spoke gently.

You sniffled and waved her off.

“No worries. You can’t do anything, I understand. I’ll get out of your hair…” you stammered, preparing to get up.

But something in Rita screamed for her to let you talk, to hear you out. So Rita only held onto you even tighter.

“Wait. Why don’t you tell me about Matt…?” She breathed out, now accepting all the consequences of what she might hear about her client in the near future.

Your head swiveled to the woman and your eyes widened. You bit your lip before slowly nodding.

For once, you felt heard as you talked to Rita. That night, you and Rita seemed to form a strong bond while talking through your history. As a result, Rita ended up dropping Mr. Garper’s case the very next day. And instead, she took up you as an acquaintance.

Fin.

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months ago

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My Good Girl ~Rita Calhoun xFem Assistant!Reader

Summary: After being Rita’s assistant for quite some time, one particular day makes sparks fly and brings all your professional walls come crashing down.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: light smut, fluff, kissing, teasing, flustering, physical displays of affection, implied age gap (all legal), semi-public pda, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

Her signature manolo’s clacked along the courtroom floor as she left the room after having swept the floor with Barba. Her head was raised and she walked confidently, her eyes scanning the horizon for her prey.

You scurried forward, having had to leave court to take a phone call for Ms. Calhoun. You nearly dropped all of the files you were holding for her in the process. Your entire squirming demeanor made the older woman chuckle lightly.

She began to walk again with swagger and at a quick, firm pace. You struggled to keep up with her while carrying all of her files.

“Ms. Calhoun! One of your clients, a Mr. Green, was just arrested.”

She nodded in your direction as you two descended the courthouse steps.

“Okay, thank you.”

“You also still have your 3:30…”

Rita’s jaws tensed a little but she nodded in response nonetheless.

“That will be all for now. You can head back to the office, ‘hun” She promptly told you.

You swiftly nodded while blushing furiously at the nickname.

“How’d it go?” You quickly asked as she hailed a cab.

Rita looked at you with a smirk.

“Splendid.” She said before getting into the cab and leaving you to find your way back to the office.

Being Ms. Calhoun’s assistant was not a job for the weak. But you loved it. Seeing the woman tear other lawyers (like Barba) to pieces made it so very worth it. Rita Calhoun was also a woman you highly admired. She said what she wanted, did what she wanted, and (for the most part) was respected while doing it. You looked up to her. And if that admiration had turned into something more, you weren’t going to admit it.

Rita had picked you out a couple years ago, when she had noticed you in the back of the courtroom on multiple occasions. Apparently, you had been studying and taking notes in order to better understand the law. She had been looking for a new assistant, and even though her firm had an entire stack of resumes at hand for such a thing, she couldn’t get you out of her mind. The next time she saw you in the courthouse, she had pulled you aside and asked you to apply. You had looked at her with bright eyes and immediately agreed.

Once back at the office, you organized all the files from the case that Ms. Calhoun had just won. You worked diligently to make the woman’s life just a little bit easier. By the end of the day, you both were the last in office with all the lights but your own being off. You were preparing to leave when she called you into her office. You shuffled inside and closed the door.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Calhoun?”

The woman stood up and sauntered over to a table which held her expensive scotch. She thumbed with the glass bottle before looking back at you and indicating to the glasses.

“Have a drink with me, ‘hun…?” She hummed.

You immediately nodded bashfully.

“Yes Ms. Calhoun.”

The brunette chuckled as she opened the glass liquid and began to pour two glasses of liquid gold.

“Just Rita is fine if we’re alone…” she purred.

You gulped as your face went tomato red and your heart race skyrocketed, slowly nodding once more.

“Yes Rita…” you whispered.

You had to admit, her name felt so natural rolling off your tongue, it felt so good in your mouth. As Rita approached you with your designated glass, you shook yourself, attempting to get rid of all the sinful thoughts lingering in your mind. You took the glass and mumbled a thank you.

“Please, have a seat.” Rita hummed, guiding you to take a seat next to her on her expansive and expensive couch.

Her fingers on your back as she guided you sent jolts of electricity down your spine. You complied without a single word or thought, it just all felt so natural. She had you sit mere inches away from her, you prayed she couldn’t feel the desire pooling in your stomache from how close you were.

You nervously fidgeted with your glass before taking a small sip of the liquor. Your eyes fluttered over to the older, more powerful woman. Her intense gaze met yours; you instinctively squirmed underneath it. Rita leaned back against the sofa with a pleased sigh.

“You did good today, ‘hun.” She hummed.

Your face reddened at her praise. Your legs were closed tight and you bit your lip as you sat straight up on the sofa. You took another gulp of the scotch, the burn in your throat being a nice distraction to the beautiful woman sitting right next to you. You managed to look her way for a fraction of a second.

“Thank you, Ms. Cal- Rita—!” You quickly corrected yourself, making you even more embarrassed.

Rita cracked a laugh at that, proceeding to take a sip of her drink. Her free hand ended up against her head as her head tilted in amusement.

“You’re cute.” She purred as her twinkling eyes raked up and down your frame.

Shivers ran down your spine and your senses jolted back alive at the forward praise. Rita came forward and gently caressed your back.

“Relax, ‘hun. Is everything alright?” She cooed, guiding you to sit back next to her.

You nodded absentmindedly while your gaze was now transfixed on her face, more specifically her lips. Rita’s lips quirked up in amusement at your lack of verbal response. You had been caught…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rita purred, slowly moving her hand to your waist.

You gulped. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. You looked down and watched Rita’s arm snake around your waist. You then looked back up and saw her eyes, desire radiating from her irises. You were powerless to her. You knew it ever since you’d stepped into the same room as her.

The only thing you seemed capable to do in the moment was drain your glass of its contents, and grimacing at the intensity of the liquid, before meeting Rita’s gaze once more. This made her chuckle lightly as she continued to savor her scotch. She proceeded to place her drink down, then grabbing yours and setting it down as well. Your mouth was parted slightly and you waited for what she would do next.

“I need you to tell me what you want.” Rita breathed out.

Your mind came back to focusing on her features as she spoke. You were nervous, but giddy at the same time. Was this really happening?

“Y-you. I want… you.” You stammered, looking away bashfully.

At your words, Rita cupped your cheek and caressed your waist.

“Look at me, love.”

You slowly looked back into the woman’s eyes. They were dark pools, with yes desire, but also care and warmth. She then sat up and pulled your forehead against yours.

“I’ve been waiting too long to hear you say those words…” she murmured before connecting her lips with yours.

You froze at first at the feeling of her lips on yours. But as her hands began to explore your curves and her lips explored yours, you began to warm up. You found yourself reaching for the woman and pulling her as close as you could get.

Rita smiled into the kiss and edged your lips apart, allowing her tongue access into your mouth. You happily granted her entrance and allowed the brunette to explore your wet cavern at length. When one of her hands landed on your clothed breast and squeezed, you let out a rather desperate whimper in response. This made Rita’s gaze look even hungrier and more lustful.

She eagerly pulled you into her lap next, never breaking the kiss once. Her hands landed on your hips, while yours fell tentatively on her shoulders. The kiss grew deeper and hungrier by the minute, and soon you were grinding down in the woman’s lap, panting and whimpering like putty in her hands.

You two only broke the kiss once all of your cumulative oxygen had been sucked dry. You pulled apart gasping for air. You barely had a moment to think before Rita was craning your neck up for her access. Her mouth wasted no time in peppering, licking, and sucking along your neck and collarbone. She hit a pretty sensitive spot, making you squirm heavily in her lap. This was all becoming too much.

“P-please… please Rita…” you whimpered with a sharp gasp, as she twisted your covered nipple while simultaneously biting down on your pressure point.

Rita pulled back and met your gaze. She looked quite pleased with herself at the state she had managed to reduce you down to.

“So she can talk…?” The woman teased.

You bucked your hips, pouted your lip, and nodded all at the same time in desperation. Rita found it adorable. Your grip on her shoulders hadn’t moved, but your knuckles were starting to turn white from how hard you were holding on.

“Yes Rita please—” you whispered, looking at her with wide, dark, desperate eyes.

Rita chuckled and reached for one of your hands. She proceeded to kiss each knuckle on you hand, while watching your every reaction with amusement. After she had deemed you had been teased enough, she finally relented.

“Let me take you back to my place. I want to give you a proper time.” Rita purred.

Your eyes widened and you but your lip, nodding eagerly.

“Yes please!” You squealed, practically jumping up and down in her lap.

Rita then proceeded to give you a chaste kiss before helping you stand up. She gathered her and your things and then guided you out of the office and out into the streets.

“Such a good girl…” Rita cooed, not for the last time that night.

Fin.

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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