#Also soft!Nines hell yes

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Part 12

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

WC: 4.5k

A/N: this is the final chapter in this “present” time frame. The next and actual final chapter will be more of an epilogue. If you skipped the smut chapter i tried to make sure I reiterated everything that was plot related so that you don’t feel like anything is missing from the storyline.

You’re woken up by the bed shifting. You roll and adjust a few times before cracking open your eyes, you squint at the harsh sunlight coming in before rolling over to see Jessie already awake. She’s sitting up, back against the headboard, book in her hands. She’s got the blanket pulled up, just covering her chest but leaving her collarbones exposed.

After the two of you had showered you went to lay in bed. You had thrown on a pair of underwear and almost put on a shirt before remembering previous texts you and Jessie had sent months ago. You asked if she’d be comfortable with you sleeping shirtless, she had no problem with it and much to your surprise she never put on a shirt either. The two of you cuddled skin to skin and this time you held her, your legs tangled together and your arm slung across her midsection as you both fell asleep.

She puts down the book she’s reading when she sees you’re awake. “Hi.” She says leaning over to be closer to you. Her hair is messy, her smile is soft, she looked so beautiful, you couldn’t believe you were finally waking up in her bed while she was still in it.

“Hi.” You smile back at her. You run your fingers through your own hair, trying to somewhat control it.

“How are you? Are you alright?” As she asks Jessie puts the book onto the nightstand and shifts to bring herself back into a lying position so she is face to face with you.

“I’m good.” That was a lie, you were more than good, you were waking up, after a night of sex, good sex, with Jessie. You had gotten to spend a couple hours with her body on yours and yours on hers, the two of you tangled in the bedsheets, your name on her lips. You got to enjoy every aspect of her and then all over again in the shower. You both had also agreed to keep going on dates, to keep seeing each other. You were on cloud nine. But you didn’t know if Jessie felt the same, so you say you’re good. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I feel good about last night.” Her eyes trail to your neck at the mention of last night's activities.

“Yeah, the sex was good.” You wanted to know more than just about the sex though. “Um, do you still feel good about what we talked about? If not that’s okay, if it was just something you said in a post orgasm haze I get it, but-”

“Yes, I still feel good about that. That wasn’t just the orgasm talking, I want to try this, try us.”

“Me too.” You say and Jessie leans in, putting her lips to yours bringing you into a slow make out. Her hands quickly find their way to your stomach. Her fingers dance along your sides, moving upward toward your chest. A knock on the door has her hands quickly off of your skin and you jumping at the startling noise.

“Ughhh.” Jessie groans when she pulls her lips off of yours. She moves quickly to grab a shirt and a pair of shorts before throwing a shirt in your direction. “That’s probably Janine. Your pants are over there if you want them before she comes in.” Not wanting Janine to see you in your underwear you scramble to the other side of the room where the blue sweatpants you had worn the first night you slept over were. You tossed them on and sat back down on the bed as Jessie made her way to the door.

“What the hell do you need makeup for? First of all when do you ever wear makeup? Second, we’re getting on a flight in like 8 hours.” You hear Janine question Jessie as the door closes behind her.

You don’t hear Jessie respond from where you sat on the bed and you quickly see them both come around the corner. Jessie makes quick eye contact with you before she steps out of the way and reveals you to Janine. Janine looks at you for one second, her eyes immediately widen as they catch the deep red color on your neck.

“Oh my.” Janine is quickly bent over in front of you and Jessie, clutching her stomach laughing hysterically. “That’s-” she tries to speak but falls into another fit of laughter when she looks at your neck again. When she stands back up this time you can see the tears from laughing in her eyes. “Oh this is too fucking good.” The smile on her face is massive. She’s still laughing.

“Janinnnne.” Jessie whines. “Stop laughing.” She frowns at her friend, crossing her arms, unamused by the fact that Janine finds the hickey hilarious.

“No. I can laugh. I’m here to help, I’m allowed to laugh. If you wanted somebody who wouldn’t laugh you should’ve called someone else.” Janine says as she plops down the bag she brought onto the desk. And she then walks over to you and grabs your chin to tilt your head up. She chuckles again before looking over to Jessie. “Goddamn Jeff, seriously what the hell were you thinking?”

“It was an accident!” Jessie throws her arms out.

Not believing her story Janine rolls her eyes before she walks over to her makeup bag, grabbing a tube and comes back over to you. “Oh was it? I’m sorry, did she trip and fall and her neck ended up on your lips?”

“That's not what I meant.” Jessie huffs and her arms return to being crossed harshly over her chest. She finds her way to bed sitting down next to you.

“I know that’s not what you meant, but also obviously that,” she gestures to your neck, “isn’t an accident.” She continues placing a cream over the area. Janine is still letting out small laughs when she looks at the way both you and Jessie are blushing hard.

“It was! I didn’t think I was sucking that hard.” Jessie continued to try and defend her actions.

“But you were sucking. You should know better, idiot, put them somewhere they can be covered.” You look over to the side, you felt bad for Jessie this was equally your fault, she shouldn’t be taking all the teasing.

“It’s my fault too, I bruise easily, and she did put them where they can be covered too, in her defense.” You finally speak. You watch as Jessie’s eyes quickly dart down to your chest, where those covered hickeys were. She bites her lip to hold in the smile that is trying to come across her face.

Janine’s mouth drops as she watches the way Jessie’s eyes move down and back up. “Gross. I still can not believe you’re 26 giving hickeys.”

Jessie drops her head into her palms and lets out a frustrated groan. “Can we stop with the parenting lecture? This is your fault too for pretty much encouraging us to do this.”

“No way this is my fault.” Janine takes her hands off of your face and neck for a second, looking offended at Jessie.

“You let us have the room to ourselves.” Jessie gestures to the bed and the room.

“Yeah but I didn’t tell you two to go fuck.” She says before turning back toward the desk to grab something else from her bag.

“You sort of did.” Jessie says.

When Janine turns back from the desk looking confused, you fill her in on the details she clearly lost to the drinks she had that night. “At the after party, you made some suggestions, and comments to both of us, but you had been drinking so…”

“Oh.”

“Can we please change the subject to something besides what we did last night?” Jessie asks.

“Sure, but just to be clear with both of you, I cannot promise this will be completely covered. I’ll do my best though.” Janine goes back to putting in work on your neck, she and Jessie fall into a conversation about Portland and you just sit there hoping that Janine will be able to blend in the hickey well enough that no one would be able to notice.

Of course, despite Janine’s efforts, you still had to answer questions regarding your evening regardless if the hickey was visible. Olivia was the first to ask about your whereabouts as soon as you got through the hotel room door.

“Given you didn’t come home, is it fair to assume your little date went well?” She asked as she was packing up camera equipment, her clothes still sprawled across her bed, not packed.

“Um, yeah, you could say that.” You can feel yourself blushing. Olivia looks up from the bed, eyebrow raised at you. She studies your face for a second and then begins shouting at you.

“Oh my god, you got laid! Did you and Jessie have sex?!”

“Shhhh.” You put your finger to your lips. “I don’t need the whole city knowing.”

Olivia’s face of shock doesn’t change. “You actually did?”

You give her a small nod, diverting your eyes to the floor, suddenly feeling shy about how your night went. “She really liked the whole sitting on the pitch thing, and then we had the picnic and we kissed, and then she offered for me to sleep over again, and yeah, that happened. So thank you, I owe you one for that. Here’s your badge by the way.” You dig the badge out of your backpack and pass it to her.

“So was the sex good? I mean given your chipper mood, I’m assuming it was good.” She continues to pack her bags.

You feel your face burning up as Olivia pries. “It was good, but that’s all you get to know. And it wasn’t just the sex Olivia, we agreed to keep seeing each other, to go on more dates, I’m not really sure where that leaves us, but.” You didn’t want to go around sharing too many details about your evening with Jessie when the two of you hadn’t had a ton of time to talk about what it meant or how you would deal with telling people.

“That’s really exciting! The sex and the other stuff. Especially since the second we land back in Canada, you’re off your contract, you and her can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes.” You shrug at her before pulling out your own suitcase and starting to fold your clothes. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high, you never knew how things could turn out.

It's not long before you’re loading your luggage onto the bus to head to the airport. You stay outside, helping load everyone’s bags including your Mom's.

She walks up to you, coffee in one hand and luggage in the other. “Have a good last night in Paris?”

“Yeah I did.” You try to think of anything except what your night actually entailed, you didn’t need to be a blushing mess in front of your Mom, it would give everything away. “Did you?”

“Good, good and yeah I did.” You notice her eyes drift to your neck for a moment and you think she’s about to bust your coverup in front of everyone but instead she hands you her bag and thanks you for helping. You breathe a sigh of relief as it seems she didn’t notice the makeup, knowing she would’ve made a comment about it to you if she had.

You watch Jessie walk out of the hotel, her own bags trailing behind her. Her eyes catch yours and she gives you a smile. It was a simple smile but it had your stomach fluttering. You watch her put her bags away before getting on her assigned bus. You’d only not seen her for a few hours but you were ready to be cuddled up next to her again, you wanted to just lay in bed with her, her skin on yours, your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat while she ran fingers through your hair and down you back. You wanted to by lying there playing with her hands, your fingers interlacing with hers, gently scratching her palm, drawing circles across her skin.

The ride to the airport was uneventful and before you knew it you were through security and wandering through the terminals to find caffeine that you were desperately in need of. You find a coffee shop and hop in line before opening your phone to make sure you had enough music downloaded for the flight.

“Did I keep you up too late last night and now you need some caffeine?” You don’t even need to turn to see who it is, you know her voice but you turn anyway just to see her smile, her freckles, just her.

“Yeah, something like that.” You turn to look at the menu again. “I also just like coffee.” You say shrugging.

“Hey what’s your seat number?” Jessie clicks on her phone to show you her boarding pass.

“7C, where are you?” You check your own boarding pass before leaning over to read off her phone.

“Damn, 4B.” She says.

“Hey we got lucky on the way here, odds are it wouldn’t happen twice.” The line moves ahead of you and you order yourself a coffee before turning back toward Jessie.

“I’ll get hers as well.” You point to Jessie who squints at you before you gesture for her to move up and order. She orders quickly before quietly thanking you.

The two of you wait for your coffee in silence. You’re not sure why but there’s a tension, a feeling of unease in the silence. Your name gets called and you grab your coffees, handing Jessie hers, before turning to find a seat, Jessie follows. “Do you mind?” She points to the seat next to you.

“Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to talk, I should’ve found you at the hotel before we left, would’ve been more private.” She breathes out as she sits. The way she glances around almost to check if any of her teammates or anyone she knows is around makes you nervous. You feel a pit in your stomach.

“Oh.”

Jessie shakes her head as she swallows her sip of coffee. “It’s nothing bad! I just wanted to see where your head was at as far as what was happening when we’re back.”

Her reassurance puts you at ease but you’re still not quite sure what she means. “Um, well, I’m home for about a week before school starts up again. And then I’ll pretty much be there until winter and I’ll come home for break to see my Mom and then it’s back to school again.”

“I meant as far as us.” Jessie places her hand on top of yours that’s resting on the table before quickly pulling it back when she notices you looking down at your hands.. “Are you planning on seeing other people? Dating around at school? I get if you don’t want to commit to long distance or anything like that after only one date, I just wanted to see where your head was at.”

“I wasn’t planning on seeing other people, I don’t have interest in other people. Were you? Planning to see other people?”

“I also wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool.” You swirl your coffee in your hand, not sure where to go with this conversation. It had always seemed effortless to talk to Jessie but now you were scared to say the wrong thing.

“Yeah.”

“So does that mean we’re…?” You don’t finish your sentence, you didn’t want to assume you were just seeing each other nothing formal and give Jessie the wrong impression but you also didn’t want to jump to relationship and make her uncomfortable.

“Dating? Yeah I’d say so.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee while looking at you.

“Right but does that mean I get to call you my girlfriend, or are we not there yet?” You watch her facial expression carefully, the mention of girlfriend doesn’t seem to scare her, she blinks a few extra times and she glances off to the side, but she doesn’t look scared.

“You can call me your girlfriend, but only if I get to call you mine.” Jessie’s hand comes up to her face and she rubs her palm along the side, one of her nervous habits.

“So we’re girlfriends.” You state it like it’s a fact you’ve always known despite only deciding you were dating a couple of seconds ago. You can’t help but smile as the official label rolls off your tongue.

“Girlfriends.” Jessie repeats back to you with a smile.

You and Jessie sit until your coffees are finished and then you both make your way back to the waiting area. You let Jessie leave first, the two of you had talked more and agreed to keep the relationship quiet for now. You didn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you by coming back at the same time. The rest of the waiting time goes relatively quick. You sit, playing on your phone, talking, and stealing glances at Jessie who was usually chatting with Janine or Jade. You caught her looking back at you a few times, you’d both quickly look away when you made eye contact only to let your eyes wander back to each other a second later. You’re too busy staring you don’t notice the boarding announcement until you watch Jessie stand up and grab her bag.

You get in line walking down the jet bridge when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Here.” Your Mom is behind you holding her ticket in her outstretched hand.

“What do you want me to hold it?” You offer, taking the ticket from her, figuring she had to adjust her bag or something.

“No, swap seats with me.” Her hand is out waiting for you to give her your ticket. You look down at her ticket. Seat 4A. You look up at her.

“It’s a window seat, I know having the window makes you feel better about flying.” She then winks, you see her eyes trail to your neck again. “And just so you know, you might’ve fooled everyone else, but I’m your mother, your neck doesn't usually have a paler spot right here.” She emphasizes her point by wiping her finger across your neck, then holding her finger up to you, the makeup rubbed slightly off. “But you’re an adult so I wasn’t about to make a scene.”

You turn away from her and pull your hoodie up hiding both the spot on your neck and the embarrassment that was flooding your face. You turn around quickly to thank your Mom before turning back around. The line moves ahead of you and you get onto the plane making your way to your new seat. Your seatmate is already sitting in hers.

“Hi.” You sit down, Jessie’s head whips to the side at the sound of your voice.

“What are you doing?”

“This is my seat.” You hand her your Mom’s ticket. “She traded with me so I could sit by you.”

Jessie pinches her eyebrows together learning how you got the seat. “That’s weirdly nice of her.”

“Yeah I’m not too sure why she did it. Honestly you’re lucky she’s not sitting here, you might not have made it through the flight.”

“Why’s that?” Jessie’s now looking puzzled for another reason.

“She’s my mom, she noticed the makeup immediately. Given that she traded me her seat so I’d be next to you I think she knows you caused it.”

“Whoops.”

You get yourself situated in your seat, getting out your headphones and water bottle before putting your bag away. The plane door closes shortly and you feel familiar nerves begin to grow.

Only this time you don’t have to tell Jessie you’re nervous. She must’ve noticed the way you gripped your water bottle a little tighter and she immediately stuck her hand into your lap. You grab her hand, lacing your fingers with hers feels familiar now, it’s nice, it brings back memories of your date, sitting side by side with her on the pitch.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine.” She leans over whispering into your ear. “Think of something else.” You did, the way she was whispering, her lips just an inch from your ear had you reminiscing of your night before and how she had whispered sweet nothings, praises, and also profanities into your ear as your bodies were tangled. You knew that wasn’t necessarily what she meant for you to think of, but it’s what first came to mind. And it helped, it took your mind off of the feeling of taking off.

Just like the last flight it takes Jessie all of an hour to fall asleep, only this time you don’t feel weird looking at her. Looking at her pretty face helps you forget that you were hurling through the air in a metal tube. She only catches you looking at her once. She adjusts from her nap, cracking one eye before telling you off for watching her sleep, all while smiling at you. She moves to put her head on your shoulder and she falls back asleep until you land.

Relieved to be back on the ground you’re thrilled when you pull into the Canada training center and your long travel day is finally coming to and end. Everyone begins to disperse in various directions, some of the players leaving, some wanting to bike or run after sitting on the plane all day, some coming in to unpack, most of the staff walking into the building to drop off equipment.

You make your way to your office and begin decluttering. It’s not long before you’re interrupted.

“Hey.” There’s a knock on your office and you look up to see Jessie’s face.

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doing?�� She asks, watching you move around your office.

“Just organizing papers, I have to clear this office out and take everything that’s mine by the end of the week and make it usable for whoever’s next.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I mean I knew you were going back to school, I just, I don’t like the idea of this becoming someone else’s office.”

“I’m sure they’ll hire someone great.” You were sad to leave but you had to finish your degree if you wanted to ever find yourself having a fulltime job like this. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to see you.” She slumps into the chair across from your desk. She waits a moment before speaking again. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to spend the night again?”

You should be excited, here was your brand new girlfriend asking for you to spend the night, in her bed, not just some hotel bed, unfortunately you didn’t feel that excitement. “Oh, I mean, that sounds great, it’s just, I’ve really missed my own bed. I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in it for days now.”

“Right, of course, I forgot you had said that the other day.” Jessie pushes herself out of the chair, you can tell she seems embarrassed by your rejection of her invite.

“Babe, wait.” You accidentally let the pet name slip from your mouth in an attempt to get Jessie to stay. She turns back, she looks surprised and you immediately start to backpedal on your words. “Sorry, is babe okay? I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Babe is,” a smile interrupts Jessie’s sentence, she shakes her head and finishes “babe is good, I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you want to say something?” She squints at you.

“Oh right, would you want to stay at my place tonight instead? Obviously if you’d rather stay at your own place I get it, we can do a different night.” You offer before you can really even think if your place is clean. Are the sheets clean? Is the clutter picked up? What if you had left it a mess in the chaos of packing? Do you have dirty laundry?

“Okay, I’ll have to stop by my place first, get a few things, just make sure everything’s good there, if you send me your address I can be there whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Jessie turns to head out the door and you turn your attention back to organizing. You still had a good bit of paperwork to go through and stuff to put away but you could come in later this week to do that. Now your main concern was your apartment.

“Clean sheets, clean the bathroom.” You start muttering to yourself creating yourself a to-do list of items you wanted to tidy before Jessie came over. “I should vacuum.” You say as you bend down to put something into a drawer. When you stand up you’re startled to see Jessie back in your office standing on the other side of the desk.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you left.”

She nods at you. “I did, I came back.”

“Why?”

“Just wanted to do this one more time before it becomes someone else’s office.”

She grabs your hand pulling you out from behind your desk and brings you close to her. She drops your hand to move both of her own to your hips and she guides you to step back until you’re against the wall.

It’s as if you’re replaying your first kiss, only this time there’s more to it. It’s not just a tentative kiss with unknowns behind it. Her body is pressed to yours like it was before, only now you know what that feels like without clothes between your bodies. It’s a kiss you’re sharing as girlfriends, as people who have done this before. There’s no longer nerves, there’s butterflies instead. Her fingers caress your hips as your own arms loop around her neck holding her to you. You can feel her hair tickling your cheeks as she leans in. She’s still soft with her lips, they slide against yours and much to your dismay she pulls away too soon. You’re breathing hard when she pulls back, her hands still on your waist and your arms around her neck.

“At least we didn’t get walked in on this time.” She teases. “Okay, now I’m actually leaving, please don’t bother cleaning like crazy, I’d rather come over sooner than wait for you to make your place spotless. I know you just got back from a trip, it’s fine if it’s not clean.” Her hands fall from your body and she turns, you drop your own arms down to your sides.

“Alright, but maybe just a little cleaning.” You hold up your index finger and thumb making a pinching gesture.

Jessie just rolls her eyes and walks to the door before stopping herself at the door frame. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she hesitates for a split second before adding. “baby.”

[konigsluv]

MDNI!! DARK THEMES!!

LOSER!König x Drugged!Reader

Loser!König spikes your drink and fucks you in the backseat of his car.

contains: rape, non-con sex, roofied alcohol, penetration, rough sex, desperate sex, drugged!reader

a/n: this one's a bit long but I hope y'all like it :3

Loser!König was absolutely thrilled when you agreed to go out with him. He has noticed you around base, following you around, and getting jealous when you talk to other men that aren't him. Even though you've never talked to him, ever....

It was pathetic really, but he's always been pathetic. Woman have never took a liking to him; they always called him too rough, too disgusting, too fucking creepy. He was a loser when it came talking to them, stuttering over his words, and trying to turn away to hide the growing bulge in his pants. It's why he was so ashamed when he fell for you.

You being perfect.

And such a stark contrast to himself.

Soft hair, small hands, smooth skin, and the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you smile. It was all so perfect. So can you really blame him for falling in love?

Maybe that's why, when you actually agreed, he was on cloud nine for approximately one minute before his mind spiraled.

Why would he do that?

Now he has to take you out to dinner, talk to you without stuttering, and try and convince you through subtle actions and words that he was a good man for a woman like you. But god, that would prove to be impossible.

You were just too out of his league. You only ever agreed to go on this date because you pitied the poor big fella! König thought there was no way you would agree to a second date, and a third and fourth and so on and after.

Thus, drastic times came for drastic measures. König wanted, just once, to feel your skin on his, to feel your cunt suck his cock in and squeeze it to hell- and he was going to get it.

Before you realized who he truly was...

König pulled out your chair for when you sat down, his hands shaking as he got a whiff of the nice perfume you were wearing. He then sat in his own seat, it creaking from his large stature.

"You uhm- look lovely tonight," He says, a crooked smile creeping onto his face.

You smile politely at him, "Thank you, it's a new dress." you accept the compliment, "I also see that you've cleaned yourself up for the night,"

You know who he is, Colonel König around base, but you never would have suspected he was interested in you. Much less he clean up his look and actually wear something nice.

König gave a small dry laugh to your comment, "Ah, yes, I have....." he then glanced down to the white empty plate sitting in front of him.

This was awkward. He didn't know what to say! Oh god, he's going to ruin the night isn't he?!

You clear your throat and look around, flagging down a waiter and ordering a bottle of wine for the table.

"You okay with red wine? I drink it to ease my nerves sometimes," you say softly, subtly trying to reassure him that's it's okay to be nervous and to loosen up a bit.

König nodded, "Yeah, yea, that's uh- red wine is fine," he's never once indulged himself with the dark red liquid.

Tapping your nails against the table you inhaled heavily, "So, do you come here often?" referring to the restaurant.

"No I," he paused for a moment, thinking about his words so he doesn't stutter, "I don't. But I thought you would like it since it's-" he looked around, "you know, like fancy,"

You laugh softly and didn't even notice his sharp intake of breath as he focused mostly on trying not to get hard. The sound of your laugh sent heat rush to his groin; he wanted to be the one that made you laugh.

"Yes, it is nice in here. I do like it if you were wondering."

König nodded then sighed, bouncing his leg under the table. He was barely listening to what you were saying. He's sorry, but he's got other things to focus on. Like the little bag of pills in the pocket of his pants.

Just then, the waiter came back and set two wine glasses down and poured the red wine into them before setting the bottle between them on the table.

"Enjoy your evening," he says then walks away.

König clenched his jaw tightly when he watched you bring the glass up to your lips and take a small sip. He was so fucking anxious, was his plan even going to work?....

Dinner went on as normal, well, as normal as it could be with a guy like him. With every question you asked he would give one sentence responses. It kind of bummed you out because he was the one that asked you out in the first place. The man didn't seem interested in you at all.

Sighing, and finishing your meal you strand up, "Excuse me, i'm going to go refresh myself," you say then walk to the ladies room.

König watched as you disappeared down a hall then looked around anxiously to see if anyone was nearby and watching him. Once he realized the coast was clear he shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out the small bag. He fumbled with it, his large fingers making it more difficult to grab and open it. Or maybe it was because he was shaking.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting to see you standing directly behind him and staring at him with disgust. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but schatz, he needed you- and as much as he loved you, he couldn't trust you to let him touch you.

That's why he's somewhat- no, fully obligated to do this.

König leaned over the table, dropping the small white pill into your red wine and watching it dissolve. He then sat back in his chair, staring at the glass with darkened eyes.

He actually felt relieved, he done it without getting caught- and just one sip of that wine would make you delirious. Clenching his fists, he glanced back over his shoulder to see you walking back from the bathroom. God, he was so fucking nervous but also so excited to have you, to taste you.

"I'm back," you say, sitting back down with a small smile, "Have we gotten the check yet?"

König blinks, "Ja, I took care of it,"

"Oh, thank you," you then stand up, patting down your dress for no apparent reason, "Ready to go?"

He panics.

"Aren't you going to finish your drink?" He says quickly. You glance down at the wine then let out a small amuses huff from your nose.

"You're right," you pick up the glass, bringing it to your lips, and he watched with dark eyes as you took two gulps of it before setting it back down.

"Thanks for dinner," you say as he stands up.

"No need to thank me," he replies. After all, he'll be getting his thanks soon enough...

It wasn't long until you two were walking to his car when you stumbled slightly, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself. Your brows furrow together and you bring your hand to your forehead, groaning.

"Is something wrong?"

Glancing up, there were, what seemed to be two König's staring down at you. You squinted your eyes, trying to focus on one but it was blurry, "I had... had a bit to drink," you say slowly and he nods.

"Come on, let's get you back to the car, then you can rest," He wraps his arm around your backside, firmly grasping your waist as he held you up until you guys got to his car. You slumped against it as he unlocked and opened the backseat.

"Here schatz, ruhe diche jetze aus..."

Your eyes dolled back into your head as you tried to speak, but only quiet slurs of deformed words came from your swollen lips. Your whole body felt like lead as you tried lifting your head to see what felt so hot between your legs.

"so good..." König mumbled into your cunt as he lapped up the slick that pooled out of you, "you're so good liebling..."

His large hands gripped your thighs, kneading them under his calloused palms as his slippery tongue slid in and out of you before grazing over your swollen clit. He sucked the bead into his mouth, savagely moving his head from side to side as he growled into your pussy.

"no...." you mewled weakly, "sst..." you managed strength to lift your hand, but you could barely do anything when you tried pushing his head away. König just groaned into your cunt as he felt your hand grab onto his hair.

You liked this schatz, didn't you?

Why else would you be moaning for him? Grabbing his hair? Getting even more wet when his tongue was doing its best you clean you up?

"so needy," he cooed, spitting onto your pussy and watching the saliva run down your folds, "I'll take good care you of you, schatz. kein grund zur sorge,"

König then pulled away, running his hands down your legs before moving them up towards your entrance. He slipped his middle finger inside of you and groaned at the sight of your cunt sucking him in desperately.

Soft moans dribbled out of your mouth as König slides another digit into your leaking pussy.

"sto...p," you manage to say, your voice cracked and tired. God, you felt exhausted, so fuzzy and dizzy.

It didn't take him long to drive you to an orgasm, your whole body tensing, your back arching up and your eyes rolling into the back of your head- losing consciousness.

It was only when your head bumped repeatedly against the car door as he shoved his fat cock in and out of you that you regained consciousness.

One of his hands was placing at the base of you throat, squeezing, while the other was gripping onto the edge of the seat.

"Oh je, du bist so verdammt eng, es fühlt sich so gut an," he whines as he bucks his hip into you. König didn't even have a technique, just mindlessly thrusting his too big cock into you at a relentless pace. You swore that every other second you blanked or blacked out.

"-urts!" you cried, choked gasps coming from your mouth as you tried to control your breathing, "h-hurts!..."

König groaned as he slowed his pace, now dragging his cock slowly in and out of your right wet cunt. The hand on your throat reaches up and he brushed his fingers against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"m'sorry schatz, I didn't think about your head...." he cooed before grabbing your waist firmly and manhandling you into a different position.

Now you were sitting on top of him, his length stuffing you full until his tip was kissing your cervix. It was painful, but there were slight shocks of pleasure that kept your mind blank. You were so fucking out of it you could barely tell what was happening- which direction you were facing....

His hand cupped the back on your head, bringing your face into the crook of his neck as his other hand caresses your bare side.

"is that better?..." he whispered into your ear before grabbing your hips and fucking up into your sloppy wet cunt.

God maus, you felt so fucking good. After this one taste, how was he supposed live normally?

Your body went limp; small incoherent mumbles and whimpers sounding from your swollen lips. König loved it, every second of it. Your delirious state just convinced him that it was him making you feel like this. It was his cock that was causing you to black out from pleasure....

"i'm so close, so close to cumming in you. ich werde dich mit meinem sperma füllen," he says desperately as he bucked his hips up ruthlessly.

It only takes a couple of more clumsy, sloppy thrusts for him to be releasing inside of you- filling you with his creamy seed. There was so much it seeped out of your hole, coating his cock in a milky substance and forming a sticky ring at the base of his shaft.

"I love you- ich liebe dich so sehr, I love you," he whispered, caressing your hair and tangling his hands in it. You were long gone by now, having passed out from the sheer overstimulation- mixed with the drugs of course....

"So good.... did you like it too?" König asked breathlessly and when you didn't respond he simply chuckled.

"It's okay little maus, i'll let you rest.... you probably need it for the amount of times i'll be fucking you."

MASTERLIST

please do not copy or repost on any platforms without my permission

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

[nadvs]

hi I’m current obsessed with swte universe 😭

would you write a blurb showing us how rafe and the reader dealt with the pregnancy? Specially after finding out it was twins. Like her mood changes and how Rafe dealt with all of that. Oh and if you could also show us about the day the babies were born 🥹🎉

omg thank you so much 🥹 yes of course!! i wrote a little pregnancy blurb and will do the birth story separately 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe is already protective as hell. but when he finds out she’s pregnant, it reaches a new level. he doesn’t even let her try to reach something off of the top shelf in the kitchen.

“i need to be active,” she says to him as he hands her the pan she was trying to grab. “it’s not good for me or the baby if i don’t move around.”

“then take walks,” rafe says, towering over her. “but if you need to reach something, get me.”

“what if you’re not home?”

“then wait for me to get home.”

she rolls her eyes, irritated but mostly endeared that he’s being so careful.

she gets morning sickness. and afternoon sickness. and night sickness. every time she retches in the bathroom and rafe is home to hear it, she comes out to see him standing by the door, a concerned wince on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“you okay?” he asks.

she just shakes her head no and takes the glass.

when she reaches eight weeks, they go for her first ultrasound. she can tell something’s up when the technician who’s scanning her stomach seems to straighten up a few minutes in, then continues to take photos.

“is everything okay?” she asks nervously.

“yup,” the tech says. a few gruelling minutes pass by before she turns the screen towards her and rafe.

“i just wanted to confirm before telling you,” the tech explains, “i’m detecting two heartbeats. you’re having twins.”

they speechlessly watch the black and grey screen, following the tech’s finger as she points at a faint blinking.

“there’s one…” she says, then moves, “and two.”

“two,” rafe repeats. he’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he just saw his baby’s heartbeat, let alone two. he meets eyes with his girlfriend, both of them astonished.

a smile grows on his face, his warm hand wrapping around hers. but she’s still in shock.

“w-wow,” she stutters. “you’re sure?”

“positive,” the tech replies.

“i guess, um,” she says, “i guess my doctor will talk to me about it, but is there a higher risk of complications?”

all she’s been reading about is general, common, one-baby pregnancy. this is throwing her for a loop.

“it’s different for every woman,” she tells her, “but you’ll probably have more appointments than you expected just because doctors prefer to monitor multiple births closer.”

“okay,” she says. “thank you.”

“i’ll be sending the images to your doctor and she’ll follow up,” she says, handing her a wad of paper towels. “congratulations. i’ll give you some space to clean the gel and you can head out the same way you came in.”

the tech leaves the room. she meets her boyfriend’s eyes, still unable to crack a smile.

“you okay?” rafe asks.

“i’m…” she begins. “i can’t believe this. this whole time, i’ve been picturing… but there’s… there’s two?”

“there’s two,” he says. he can see how anxious she is. “i’ll be with you through it all.”

“i’m gonna get huge,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes the gel off her stomach.

“i hope so,” he replies. “future nba stars in there. they need to be tall.”

“god,” she says. “twins. why’d you do this to me?”

“i’m efficient.”

she meets his eyes, finally smiling.

“i’m glad you’re so happy,” she tells him.

he looks at her with soft eyes. he knows she’s still harboring a fear that rafe will treat their child like she was treated by her father. he’s learned not to take it personally. but even if he did, he’s determined not to stress her out at all through these nine months, so he wouldn’t say anything anyway.

“are you? happy?” he asks. he realizes he’s kind of fearful, too. maybe she’ll just be worried throughout the pregnancy. maybe they will face complications.

“yes,” she breathes. “i just need to shock to wear off first.”

sure enough, the doctor confirms it. she tells them that multiple pregnancies are riskier, but that they’ll monitor her closely.

as she gets heavier, she gets more irritable and demanding. rafe hates himself for it, but he gets frustrated at times, especially when he’s had a long day and comes home to their penthouse condo to see her on the couch, looking like she’s annoyed he’s home.

he never says anything when he’s irritated. but she can read him like a book.

“why are you mad at me?” she snaps, following him into the bedroom one night after he gets home from the gym.

“i didn’t say a word,” rafe mumbles.

“i can see it on your face,” he says. “what, is it because i don’t have dinner waiting? the smell of anything cooking makes me hurl, you know.”

“i know,” he says, throwing his gym clothes in the hamper. “i’m not mad.”

“can’t you look at me?”

rafe sighs and turns to look at her, her belly round and protruding under her shirt.

“you’re not even happy to be home,” she says, her hands on her hips.

“i am,” he says. “i’m just tired.”

“and i’m not? i have not one, but two things draining me of everything in me every second of every day. i don’t get any breaks. i can’t sleep.”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’m sorry. did you eat?”

“you think i’m stupid enough to be skipping meals? i’m nourishing them,” she says, touching her stomach. “don’t worry about that.”

“i meant…” rafe scratches the back of his neck. he refuses to lose his temper on her when she’s in this state; especially because she’s suffering for both of them. “for you. did you eat?”

“yes,” she says, her hard expression faltering a bit.

“can i get you anything? you have any cravings?”

“not right now,” she replies.

he nods and turns to finish emptying his gym bag.

“i’m making a protein shake soon. you want one, too?” he asks, his back to her.

she sighs, tears welling up in her eyes, and steps forward, putting her arms around him, her stomach pushing against his lower back.

“i’m sorry i’m such a bitch,” she mumbles, sniffling.

“don’t say that. you’re not a bitch,” he says. he’s used to her mood swings by now, but she usually just goes from indifferent to angry and back. she hasn’t cried in a while.

“i can see myself being crazy but i can’t stop,” she admits. “and i’m nervous about tomorrow. i hope they’re doing okay. i still haven’t felt them move.”

her twenty-week ultrasound is tomorrow. they’ll be finding out the twins’ genders.

rafe turns and plants a slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. he exhales slowly as she shudders with her cries.

“they’re doing great,” he says. “all the appointments and check-ups have been good. and whatever they end up being, we’ll love them.”

“you’re right.” she sighs and tilts her chin to kiss him. she hates that she can’t remember the last time they kissed. she feels like all she’s been doing lately is whining and puking.

“how are you?” she asks.

“good.”

“how are you really?”

“i can’t complain.” he puts a hand on her belly. “i’m not the one with two things draining me every second of every day.”

“you’re allowed to be tired, too,” she says. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s all good, baby,” he says. “let’s watch something and pass out on the couch.”

“deal.”

the next day, they learn that she’s carrying a boy and a girl. rafe can’t believe how lucky he is.

when he falls asleep next to his girlfriend that night, curled up behind her, his hand on her belly, he feels a light, almost imperceptible movement on his palm.

“oh, my god,” she whispers into the dark. “did you feel that?”

“was that…?”

“it was,” she says, choking up. “one of them saying hi.”

rafe shuffles closer and kisses her neck a hundred times, gently rubbing her tummy. he still can’t get the way they looked on the ultrasound screen out of his head. he can’t fully comprehend that this is really happening, that this is his life, playing professionally and expecting babies with the only girl he’s ever loved.

he can take her mood swings. he can take her any way. as long as she’s with him.

a few days later, she suggests rafe go on a trip with his friends since it’s the off season. he asks her why and she tells him “so you get a break from me.”

rafe chuckles and kisses her before he tells her, “i don’t need a break from my best friend. what’d i tell you? you won’t do any of this alone.”

by the third trimester, she’s heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s not throwing up anymore. her mood swings are more manageable. at this point, she’s scared for the delivery, fully aware that babies can always come early, especially twins, but she’s excited to finally meet them.

and every chance he gets, rafe kisses her forehead, then gives two kisses to her stomach, telling his son and his daughter that he loves them.

she’s amazed at this side of him. she already knew beneath his aggressive, temperamental exterior was a fiercely protective man with a big heart. but the way he’s been treating her, even when she’s been so difficult and unreasonable, is astonishing.

and she can’t wait to see him as a father. she realizes now that she has no doubt that he’ll always make their children feel loved.

[superblysubpar]

<- part seven | part nine -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Was it real?

the song: we can’t be friends by Ariana Grande

also for your listening pleasure: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, One More Night by Phil Collins, Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston, Who's Crying Now by Journey, I Ran (So Far Away) by A Flock of Seagulls, What About Love? by Heart, and Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon

5,839 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury, new injuries & blood / mentions of getting high, but not reader / douchery to the highest order in the form of Brendan - he ignores boundaries, doesn’t listen, and a physical fight ensues - I made it as brief and nondescript as possible, but take care of yourself and do not read if you find it could be triggering (I’ve marked the scene with Brendan between red lines, and all you’d need to know is Steve saves the day) | my blog is 18+

Somewhere near Cornwallis Street - Sunday

  The screech of metal on metal continuing to alert you of his presence only makes your feet pick up their pace on the grass, pavement of the sidewalk too hot for your bare soles. 

  “Sweetheart, just get in the van. You’re wearing out my brakes, here.”

  Eddie’s been trailing behind you for five minutes, calling out the open window to get you to look at him. 

  “You know,” he calls, pausing at the stop sign as you look at the empty intersection and begin to jog across hot tar, “You’re being a brat!”

  “Excuse me?!” 

  Your foot twitches to stomp, like the thing he just called you, while fighting the urge to look at him as you continue down the neighborhood’s street. 

  “You heard me! Get in the fucking car. You gonna walk all the way across town without shoes on?”

  “Yes!” 

  “Really?” He scoffs, “Okay. What happens when you get there and you’ve got no keys?”

  Your feet slow, but you call out confidently, “I have a spare hidden.”

  “Fucking stubborn,” he mumbles as he brakes and puts the car in park and hops out. 

  Eddie rounds the hood of his car, sneakers untied and black swim trunks dripping wet still, hair pulled into a low bun with curls falling out around his face. He glares at you with hands on his hips.

  “Get. In. The. Car.”

  “No!” 

  You do stomp your foot that time, and then make a break for it, a full out sprint to get around him. 

  It’s childish, is what it is. There’s no other way to describe the way you try to run away from him, literally, or the way he snakes his arms around you, shouting about what the hell your actual problem is. No other way to describe the way you swat at a hard chest doing absolutely nothing as tears start rolling down your cheeks again and you yell the word asshole at him. 

  “Me?! I’m the asshole?” Eddie’s fingers circle your wrists, stopping your useless attack. His brown eyes blink at you, “For what? For-“

  “For lying to me, Eddie!” You shout it around a sob, knowing you’re leaning towards ugly snotting crying territory quickly. Your vision blurs as you keep going, “You manipulated me for Harrington. For some extra cash. For…for what?” Lips spitting words out around salty tears, “You started this whole fucking bet and-and you let him…why’d you do this? Why’d you-“

  “Because hello!” Eddie shouts, letting your arms go and holding his out wide, “Breaking news to literally only you because the entire fucking planet can see it: You’re totally in love with the guy!”

  “I’m no-“

  “You are,” Eddie cuts you off, eyes soft but jaw hard. “And you were never gonna give him a chance without our help because, aside from him,” Eddie laughs and gestures down the road behind you, “You’re the most stubborn person on earth. You both set your sights on something and you won’t budge till you get it. And you…yours were set on hating his guts.”

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you look away from him, refusing to admit he’s right and Eddie shakes his head, speaking softly now. 

“And I don’t think you told yourself you were gonna hate Steve Harrington forever because of some moment when you were twelve. I think you decided you were gonna hate him, so there was never any chance the opposite could be true. Because if you hate him, you could never love him. And if you never love him, you can’t get hurt.”

  A sob cracks your chest, head hung as tears fall and darken the pavement burning your feet. It only takes three drops for Eddie’s arms to wrap around you and five for you to wrap yours around him. He waits until his white cut off tee is plastered to his chest but no longer getting freshly damp to run a palm up and down your back and kiss the top of your head. 

  “Want some pie?”

  Eddie makes a disgusted scoff as you swipe your nose on his shirt and then look down at your bare feet.

  “Can we stop and get my shoes?”

  He smiles, head nodding towards the van still idling next to you. 

  “Would Prince Charming show up at Cinderella’s doorstep without the glass slipper?”

  Your eyes roll as Eddie walks you over to the van, helping you in as you pick up the shoes in the wheel well. 

  Eddie closes the door, face twisted in hesitation before he taps the open window frame and clears his throat.

“To be clear, so I don’t get accused of manipulating and lying again,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you duck your head as he softly tacks on, “I’m not Prince Charming in this scenario.” He nods at the shoes in your lap, “Before I could even think to follow you, Harrington was shoving those at my chest and telling me to.”

  Your chin wobbles, lip quivering as you sniff and ward off a fresh wave of tears. 

  It doesn’t matter who brought them, not really. Because all that does matter is the fact that they’re here and you want to put them on and keep running. 

  Away from your arguably skewed view of the past. Away from this street and that house and the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body, the ache in your stomach and chest that you worry won’t ever go away.

  Run far, so far that Eddie’s words can’t ever catch up and make you face them head on - admit the truth behind them. 

  All you can think about doing is running away from Steve Harrington, because that’s all you’ve ever done, but now, now there’s a small new thread. 

  A thread like the one in your skirt a week ago that you wonder if you keep pulling, you’ll find where it starts. 

  A thread that runs parallel to the feeling of needing to run away from him. One that makes you pick and pull and wonder:

  If you keep running from him, will Steve ever give up trying to catch you? And if you stopped running, what happens when he does? 

  What happens when the chase is over?

Hawkins, Indiana - Monday A.B. (After Bet)

  You’re not proud of it, on Monday morning when you call Keith and tell him you can’t come in, lying about being sick. 

  The feeling in your stomach as you move a shirt, a sweatshirt, and pajama pants to your dryer later that day makes you wonder if you were really lying though. 

  Rain tapping against your windows and the glow of the TV screen lull you to sleep on your couch. 

  You don’t dream about Steve Harrington. 

  And when a crack of thunder jolts you awake right when he’s not about to kiss you, you decide you’ll never watch a movie with Harrison Ford in it again. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday A.B.

  Your hand smacks the buttons of your radio as Cyndi Lauper’s voice croons out of the speakers, ironically the dark storm clouds from last night are fading to gray this morning as you drive to work. 

  Fingers rub soothing circles into your temple while the warm summer breeze blows through your open windows, placating you into calm energy until the radio lands on it’s next station. 

  “But if you change your mind, you know that I’ll be here. And maybe we both can learn…”

  As you roll to a stop at a red light, you blink at your radio with a clenched jaw as Phil laments about getting one more night. Thankfully, the song is almost over, so when the light turns green, your shoulders roll back as your wheels go forward again. 

  But it seems the universe is out to get you, and soon Whitney’s voice is prying your already cracked chest open, voice filling every vulnerable nook and cranny it can find in your body.

  “Nope!” You tell your radio, the universe, while your hands frantically grab for a mix out of your cupholder and shove it into the dash as you make the last turn onto Family Video’s street. 

  And if the Journey song isn’t enough to make you fall, as you turn into the parking lot, the sight of Steve is.

  He looks up at the sound of your music and you quickly slam it off, able to feel the tiny people going to work inside your chest, shouting orders about reinforcements around your heart with the wall back standing. 

  Steve’s car is backed into a space, and he sits on the hood of it. He holds a to go coffee cup and a brown paper bag that he grips tighter as you get out of your car and walk past without looking at him.

  “Honey-“

  “Don’t.” 

  He says your name, feet scrambling behind you until you slow to a stop.

“That was a shitty way for me to tell you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were all…conspiring against-“

  “But you were,” you interrupt, spinning to face him in a grave mistake. The leader inside of you shouting about more! You need more glue, more bricks, more! He’s too powerful! The walls are breaking again!

  Steve’s hair is a mess, wild brown waves with zero product in it. Circles under pleading amber eyes and you’re fairly certain the shirt he’s wearing isn’t washed if the wrinkles and mustard stain are any indication. 

  It makes you feel guilty, but then you remember that you’re not sure what was real for him this last week. Not sure if any of it was, or if you were just the thing he had his sights set on winning - the thing he couldn’t have till he could. 

  He shakes his head but you hold up your hand, “Let’s just forget anything happened, okay?”

  “Wh-what?” Steve blinks profusely and you look anywhere but his eyes, and freckles, and neck, and-

  “I just want to…forget it. Let’s just be coworkers who share friends again, okay?”

  “We…you don’t even want to be friends?” His voice cracks and you blink your own eyes too many times, feeling a sting behind them. 

  “I…I can’t be your friend Ste-“ your voice wobbles and you correct, “Harrington.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the strap of your bag and his crinkle the brown bag in his hand and you both stand there, staring at the sidewalk for what feels like forever. 

  “I s’pose you don’t want these then,” he offers the items up limply, before he walks over to the trash and tosses them. He clears his throat and calls over his shoulder, “Have a good shift, co-worker.”

  His fingers slide on the bridge of his nose as he gets into his car, but it’s no use. You don’t see him crying because you’re walking into the store, and he doesn’t see you crying, because his vision is too blurry to see much of anything.

  The truth of the matter is, you can’t be friends with Steve. 

  Because you’d rather be so much more than friends. 

  But if you’re more than friends with Steve Harrington, it was only a matter of time before something, someone, new came along. A new challenge and thing to chase after. 

  You’re swiping at your eyes still as you get into the back room, greeted by an apologetic looking Robin and Keith slurping on yogurt.

“Good thing you called in yesterday,” he speaks around the pink snack in his mouth, “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” you snap sarcastically, dropping your bag on the table which wobbles when you do.

  “Huh,” Keith gets up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he walks over and shakes the table. He pops it out and holds the spoon at it accusingly, “Who broke the table?”

  Your body heats up remembering Steve laying on top of you on it, the way he felt between your legs, the way he-

  “I did!” Robin scrambles up from her chair, waving her hand over it and talking too fast, “I’ll pay for it! I’ll work extra shifts! I’ll-“

  “She didn’t break it.” You look at Robin who you’re worried may offer to sell her own soul if she thinks you’re mad at her. You’re not, though you do wonder how she knows about the table. “I did.

  Keith kicks it and mumbles a ‘whatever’, tossing the yogurt cup into the trash can and licking his fingers free from the creamy substance as he talks, “How was Harrington?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Harrington?” Keith raises his eyebrows, hooking his thumb at Robin, “I can’t trust a thing she says, the traitor’s best friends with him.”

  “He…” Robin looks at you with a pout, pleading blue eyes and you sigh, “He was actually really good. Did extra work. Did the whole shipment by himself…he was…he was great.”

  Keith nods, eyes narrowed at you and then shrugs. “Whatever, he’s the new full time guy then. Spread the good news Buckley.”

  Robin’s eyes squeeze shut in a wince as you shout, “What?!”

  Keith is already walking out into the front of store and you trail behind him as he explains, “We needed a replacement for Tracy. This week was a trial run for Harrington. Thought he told you?”

  “He…” you trail off, remembering your first shift with him last week, “He said it was while you looked for the replacement.”

  Keith starts stacking tapes and Robin starts bringing them to shelves as he rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but why would I go through the trouble of posting the job, interviewing, and training a new person when one of my employees wants it?”

  “But-but, I’ll do it! I’ll interview and train! You don’t have to do a thing! I’ll-“

  “What’s the issue, I thought you said he was great? Give me a reason and I won’t give him the position.”

Keith blinks at you, bored, and Robin holds her breath next to you. 

  This means Steve and you working together most days. 

  This means watching him flirt and date and parade around Hawkins with every girl other than you for the foreseeable future. 

  This means you’ll never outrun Steve Harrington. 

  Robin raises her eyebrows at you and clears her throat as Keith snaps his fingers in your face, which you plaster a smile on to.  

“Give Harrington the job, what do I care?” 

  You spend the rest of your shift silent, listening to Keith explain to you how he wants the big fourth of July display to go and reminding Robin to tell Steve he can be in charge of the park, like he asked, whatever that means. 

  You stopped listening the minute his name was mentioned and focused on finding every movie with fireworks in it. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday A.B.

  You’re balancing on the window’s ledge, one hand holding the display of Patrick Swayze up and the other reaches for the tape that’s just out of reach on the shelf. 

  The tips of your fingers brush it as you stretch another centimeter and a huff falls past your lips when you can’t get it. You rise up onto your toes, craning just a little bit further when you start to lose your footing. 

  Large hands catch your waist from behind, holding you up. In the process of steadying you, your shirt rose, and Steve’s fingers now rest against your bare skin. 

  His hand lingers on your lower back as he reaches for the tape and hands it to you, both returning to your waist as you tape Johnny & Baby to the window. 

  “Thanks,” you clear your throat, realizing it’s the first word that’s been spoken in several hours. 

  Steve just hums from behind you before he lets his hands fall, the sound of his feet dragging on carpet only just louder than your heartbeat. 

  It isn’t fair, to know how his lips feel against yours.

  It isn’t fair, to know how he looks without his shirt off.

  It isn’t fair, to know how good it feels to come around his fin-

  The chime of the door pulls you from your self-sabotaging thoughts, the scent of peaches almost immediately overpowering. 

Blonde ringlets bounce as long legs approach the counter where he leans over a clipboard. 

  “Hi there,” her voice so sugary sweet it makes your stomach ache. 

  “Hi, welcome to…H-hi,” he stands, clearing his throat. 

  She pouts and leans across the counter, fingers traveling up his arms and making yours erupt in flames. 

  “You never called me, Steve.”

  “Oh,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

  Something came up.

  Your scoff is loud, loud enough to have both of their heads turning, so you face the window again, putting pieces of tape aimlessly on the back of the posters. 

  “That’s okay,” Brit assures, syrupy and sighing, “But how are you gonna make it up to me?”

  “Oh, well, I…”

  “Hey, Steve?” You call, looking over your shoulder.

  He blinks at you, Brit’s fingers on his forearm now and swirling circles into it. “Ye-yeah?”

  “I’m out of tape,” you respond sharply.

  “And?” His brows furrow at you.

  “Can you get me some more, or are you too busy not doing your job?”

  His eyes narrow under furrowed brows but then he turns to Brit, voice low and daring to sound smooth now, “Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to work, but I promise I’ll call this time?”

  Brit smiles, gives a nod and a little wave with her fingers and then the scent of peaches is replaced with cedar and mint. 

  You smack another piece of tape haphazardly to the window. 

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” His voice comes from right behind you, and you don’t dare turn around and face him.

  “You have that tape?”

  “Yeah,” Steve scoffs, handing a roll over your shoulder, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “Looks like you missed a spot.”

  “Thanks,” voice biting as your fingers yank the tape from his.

  He snorts, hand pressing to the glass next to your waist, “I seriously cannot believe you have the audacity to be jealous.”

  Your knees wobble as you spin and he steadies you again, hands on your hips and just low enough for you to look down at where your bodies press together as you swallow. Steve raises his eyebrows at you, expectantly, waiting.

  “What? You want a reward for using audacity correctly in a sentence?”

Steve’s jaw pulses, his forehead furrows again, but then you tack on, “And I’m not jealous.”

  His fingers squeeze involuntarily and he shakes his head slowly. 

  “There you go again, what’d I say about that, huh?”

  Chests heave with each of your intense breaths, his tongue wets his lip as you swallow and push against the glass behind you.

  “I have no reason to be jealous,” you respond quietly as Steve’s fingers brush back and forth under the hem of your shirt. “I hate you.”

  Steve’s eyes shift in color, darker, like the forest is being covered with storm clouds as he shakes his head no again, “Quit,” he takes a deep breath, exhaling the word as he tilts his chin, “Lying.”

  The chime above the door rings and Robin’s honey tinted waves are bouncing under it as she looks around. Steve takes a step back from you, pink cheeked and swallowing, hands shaking a little as you quickly climb down. 

  Your eyes avoid his as you grab your bag and wave to Robin, mumbling something about seeing her tomorrow. 

  You’re not even surprised at the lyrics that fill your car when you start it.

  “I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day…

I couldn’t get away.”

Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday A.B.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Thunder booms overhead when you ask, like it’s protesting this conversation.

  Robin sits on top of the counter across from where you lean, tossing skittles in the air and catching them.

  Or well, trying to catch them. 

  A yellow one evades her and joins a green and blue one on the floor as she says, “Shoot.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the button on your vest that says ‘May The Force Be With You’ as Robin foregos throwing and starts to dump the bag directly into her mouth.

  “How…” your arms cross as you sigh and squint out the window at the gloomy evening, “How’d you become friends?”

  “Wha?” She asks around rainbow goo, blue eyes blinking rapidly as your nose wrinkles at the sight.

  She swallows quickly and waves her hands for you to elaborate, “What?”

  “How’d you become friends…” you swallow down the butterflies that ache to come out just from saying his name, “With Steve?”

  “Oh,” she says, softly. 

  “We just,” you’re back to fiddling with buttons, with the keys of the computer, “We never really talked about it, y’know? Like you hated his guts just like me and then all of a sudden you were tricking us into movies together. And getting him this job. Helping him with…”

The unspoken activities of last week hang in the air and she smiles tightly. 

  “Right, um, well,” she scratches at the back of her neck, legs swinging as she blows out a breath. “We worked together, at Scoops, remember?”

You nod as she continues to ramble, talking with her hands and skittles spilling on the floor as she does, “And well, aside from making me laugh all summer and actually being not so terrible at conversation and listening like I’d pegged him for, there was this one night, where we got a little high and he…we were playing truth or dare.”

  She trails off and looks at you, pink cheeks and biting her lip and you stand up straighter.

  “You what? You didn’t…”

  “No!” Robin shudders, she waves her hands, “Absolutely not! He…” She groans and looks out the door and hops down, pacing as she mumbles, “Gonna freaking kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Uggh! I asked him if he’d ever been in love.”

  Your heart beats erratically, like it’s trying to keep up with the constant pelt of rain against the pavement, like each thump is trying to break you from the inside out. 

  “And? His answer made you become best friends for life?”

  Robin shrugs, “Sort of, yeah.” She smiles, avoiding your eyes as she fiddles with the skittles wrapper. “This guy who seemed so high and mighty, so douchey, so…well, you know how he is,” she waves a hand with a laugh, “After a Summer of proving all of that wrong, making me eat my judging ways, this dingus goes and tells me that he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but he’s pretty sure he felt it holding this girl’s hand on a ferris wheel when he was twelve.”

  Robin tosses the wrapper in the trash with a sigh, “And I don’t know. I folded. Now, whenever he says something dumb, whenever he’s an idiot, all I see is a guy laying on my floor telling me that. All I see when I look at him is this front covering up for a kid who thinks love is holding a girl’s hand. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?”

  “Did,” you start quietly, almost so quiet you’re not sure you’re even saying anything. The words muffled by rain and thunder and your heartbeat,

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

  “What?” She asks, wrinkles deepening under parted bangs. “No, absolutely not. He told me if I ever told anyone that my ass was grass.” She snorts and rolls her eyes. 

  Robin never knew how you met Steve. She never knew why you hated him, you just bonded over the fact that you did. 

  She frowns at you, “Why do you as…oh shit.”

  You’re certain she’s connected the dots you already have but then she’s looking over your shoulder and your mouth is parting at the sight of who’s running with his jacket over his head towards the store. 

  He shakes out hair as the door chimes, swiping at his eyes as he starts up and down the aisles, searching and your hands start to shake. 

  “Go in the back room, I can manage till he’s gone,” she says softly behind you, nudging you towards the back of the store and away from the man dressed in a nice suit squinting at new releases. 

  Your head nods as you quickly and as quietly as possible make a break for it. 

  But then you trip on the Predator cut out and his voice sounds just like it did all those years ago.

  “Well, what do we have here?”

  “Hi,” you scramble to your feet, floundering with the cut out pieces as you mumble his name, “Brendan.”

  He tilts his head at you and has the nerve to smile at you, “Thought that was you! You look…”

Your body warms under his appraisal, his hold nothing back rake of his eyes over you from head to toe and back up. Only hotter when he says, “Different.”

  “You…” your mouth is dry, suddenly able to recall all the things you’d planned to say to him if you ever saw him again. A plan to rub all of your success in his face, hopes of having another beer to toss. 

  Brendan squints at you, then around the store. He scoffs, “So…this is what you’re doing, huh?”

  You’re faintly aware of the door chiming as you take a step away from him, back pressed to the shelves as he takes a step towards you, arm caging you in. “What’s a girl like you, still working in a place like this, babe?”

  Why can this guy do this to you? How does he make you feel so small? 

  “Don’t…don’t call me that.” 

  Your head shakes, but that seems to be about the only thing your body remembers how to do. 

  Brendan pouts his lips, mistaking your breathless panic as being smitten, as being nervous around him for a totally different reason. “You used to like it.”

  He touches your waist and in your peripheral you see Robin take a step towards the phone as he speaks lowly, “You know, I never thanked you.

After you threw that beer at me and he kicked my ass, I actually took it seriously. Passed Biology, graduated. I work at a law firm now.”

  His hand runs up your waist, squeezing just below your ribs as he leans in, “I feel like I should take you out, to say thank you, babe.”

  Your mouth parts, but someone else beats you to it.

  “Pretty sure she made it clear not to call her that.”

  Brendan backs away from you, if only slightly, to look at Steve standing at the end of the aisle. 

  “Seriously? Go ring up my rental,” Brendan snorts, tossing the tape at him harshly before he turns back to you. “Where were we, babe?”

  Steve’s reflexes let him catch it, while he glares and grits through clenched teeth, “Call her that one more time, see what happens.”

  “I’m not a drunk high schooler anymore Harrington, don’t think I have anything to worry about. Right bab-“

  Steve’s fist connects with Brendan’s jaw, sending him staggering away from you. Steve’s eyes are on you, frantic as he breathes heavily and pants out, “Are you oka-shit!”

  Brendan barrels into Steve, knocking him down to the ground, fists connecting with his stomach and the side of his head. 

  You shout out both of their names, shoving at Brendan to get off of Steve who coughs after the hits stop coming. 

  Brendan staggers to a stand, swiping at a bloody nose and spitting at Steve. You stand and shove at his chest, “Get out! Before we call the cops on you, you arrogant, pathetic-“

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brendan waves you off, “Fucking deserve each other.”

  The door swings shut behind him, and you stare ahead, breathing heavily, sure it’s the rain running down the glass making your vision blur. 

  “Steve?” Robin’s on the ground next to his head.

  He moans, but motions for her to help him up as you turn back around, so she swats at his chest, “Why’d you do that! What is wrong with you? He could have killed you, you idiot!”

  “Christ Robin,” he grumbles, “I’m fine, just-hey.”

  Steve’s over to you in two steps, bloodied and bruised hands cupping your cheeks and swiping at them. 

  Even through blurred vision, you can see the bright reds and darkening purple on his forehead, your fingers brush the scrape that’s just above the two freckles on his cheek. 

  “Thanks,” you hiccup out of a sob trying to break.

  “Of course,” he murmurs, thumbs still brushing over your cheeks gently, “What are…” he swallows, “What are friends for?”

  The sob cracks just as the thunder does and Steve shakes his head, eyes big and worried, “Hey, hey, come on, that asshole is not worth these and I’m not either and-“

  “St-Steve,” you sniffle, interrupting him. Trying to reign in all the extremely big feelings that have been held back for a long time, “Will you drive me home?”

  He looks surprised but quickly nods, “Yeah, yeah of course honey.”

  “Steve, I really don’t think you should be dri-“

  Robin’s hesitation cut off from the look he gives her and answered only with her eye roll. 

  Your hands shake in your lap, fingers playing with the seams of your jeans as Steve drives silently. The radio plays softly, lost in the rain pelting the windshield and the swoosh of the wipers getting it off. It’s only when you make it to your street that you finally are brave enough to talk again. 

  “How,” you clear your throat, sniffling away any residual tears, “How are you doing? With the storm I mean?”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, frowning at the road, “Yeah, good.”

  “Was that…was it real?” Gaze falling to your lap as you dare to ask.

  “What?” He stops at an intersection, looking over at you, ducking his head to catch your gaze. “What do you mean? The storms? There’s no way, you gave them too much credit. Those kids are smart, but they’re not that smart.”

  “No, I mean…are you even afraid of storms? Or was that just another part of the plan? Was it real?”

  Steve blinks at you until a horn honks behind him and he nods as he pulls away, “Yeah, yeah it was real.”

  You nod and he looks at your profile as you stare out the windshield, tear stained cheeks and bottom lip bitten raw, your hands won’t stop fiddling with things. When he pulls into the parking lot of the complex, he faces you. 

  “Is that why you won’t talk to me? You won’t even be my friend? Because you think it wasn’t real?”

  Your shoulders rise in a shrug, heart beating harder than it ever has as Steve shakes his head. He reaches for you, but hesitates, murmuring a plead.

  “Please look at me honey?”

  Your exhale is shaky, eyes watery again as you do what he’s asked. Heart’s What About Love starts playing. You close your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as you swipe at your cheeks. 

  When you open them again, Steve is watching you carefully, and he speaks so softly, so sincerely, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear what he has to say.

  “Everything was real. Eddie let me take you to the diner and Robin put on Peter Gabriel, but that’s it. I swear, honey. How you reacted to those things, what I said, what you said, all of it, was real. And I thought, at my house, I thought it was clear how much I want you.”

  Tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as you nod, “Okay, but, what happens if you only want me because you can’t have me?”

  “What?” Steve looks at you, frowning, eyes glassy.

  Your hands swipe at your eyes as you shrug again. “What happens when you get what you were chasing, but another, more challenging want, comes along?”

  He swallows, looks up at you with his own watery eyes, “You really think that’s all I want? Do you hate me that much?”

  Images of your hand in his on a ferris wheel stir in your mind, of what could have happened after you threw that beer in Brendan’s face, images of a kiss and another kiss and another until you’re crying again. 

  As you lean over the console, you whisper against his skin before pressing a kiss to the two freckles on his cheek.

  “Never hated you.”

  You’re quick to climb out of his car, and run through the rain up your stairs and slam the door on the storm. Your back falls against it as you suck in a breath and cry, the lamp and radio flicking on as you do. 

  Heart’s song that was just playing in his car stops, and a familiar tune starts playing. It’s melody making you think of Steve between shelves, whistling. Making you think of a pool table in a basement on Cornwallis Street. 

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you try to get your breathing under control. 

  What if Steve Harrington has been chasing you all these years, but it’s never been about the chase, he just didn’t know you kept changing the rules and finish line on him? What if all he’s ever wanted was to run the race alongside you?

  Robin’s voice accompanies REO Speedwagon’s, making you spin towards the door. 

  Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?

  As you fling the door open, wondering if you can catch him, Steve’s fist raises to pound on it.

  He stands on the stoop, rain pouring down, making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyes squint. 

  “Give me one more chance,” he breathes heavily, his car lights and wipers still going from the space below. 

  The music from inside your apartment plays loudly as he takes a step towards you and keeps pleading.

  “I’ll literally get on my knees right now, honey. I am begging you, to give me one chance. One date. No help from Eddie or Robin. Nobody. Just me, and you. Let me prove it’s real. Let me prove it to you?”

  It’s the moment right before a storm starts, when it’s like the earth is taking a deep breath of, soaking up the silence before it won’t get a chance of clam again for who knows how long. 

  He blinks at you through rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes, squinting under a bruised forehead and pouting through kissable lips. Your voice wobbles even after you shove the butterflies back down, giving them no chance to escape, not yet. 

  “Ask me nicely.”

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[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

[ronearoundblindly]

For every cevans who are the ass men and who are the boob men 👀😏 .. maybe there are some who like both equally?

This...did not at all shake out the way I thought it would at first. More of them lean towards the top rather than the bottom, but the one's who like the butt really, really like the butt. I decided to do percentages in order of preference--the formula shows up as % tits / % ass. Warnings for sexual discussion.

A/N: What a bizarre thing to find myself thinking about for HOURS...

Ransom Drysdale 90 / 10

In a word? Jewelry. Now, an expensive necklace laying just in the valley of your breasts is not the only reason Ran prefers this view, but it's the main one.

Jimmy Dobyne 85 / 15

Breeding kink and lactation kink. Sorry. He's a simple man who is deep-down obsessed with your tits getting bigger because of him and what he did to you. This is a man who enjoys getting completely lost in sex (in his own head though, since he's not using a lot of brainpower to check in with you and your needs during the actual act).

Curtis Everett 80 / 20

He's hands-on, and the simple truth is it's easier to have his hands (or mouth) on your breasts during foreplay or missionary, even doggy-style. Curtis enjoys touch far more than he'll admit out loud, so there's also the simple fact that when you hug, he gets more contact with your top than your bottom, or dancing, or sleeping, etc. There is--and I will die on this hill--something deeply primal aroused in him when he sees your bare décolleté. Somehow that is more exposed and naughtier than you wondering around in a bikini. Not sure how to explain that further. Breasts to neck are just his real estate.

Steve Rogers 75 / 25

I mean, the guy was eye-level with them for most of his life, so yeah, Steve's fascinated by tits. He also finds laying on your chest deeply soothing. He likes the soft, sensual side of showing attention to your tits and loves when they're very sensitive. Don't get me wrong; Steve enjoys a well-balanced woman, and he will dote on all of you. He just...really likes playing with your boobs, darn it!

Important note: read that stat as "25% backside" for Steve's delicacy, please. He won't say the other thing...

Andy Barber 70 / 30

The low-key version of Ransom in the sense that for public and work events, Andy would like to show off how gorgeous you are. It's difficult to really highlight the ass without being too risqué, and he'd be far more angry if a bunch of people stared at your backside all night. He's comfortable being envied for your top half, thanks.

Jake Jensen 60 / 40

Purely a numbers game: he is more likely to be flashed than mooned, so Jake is slightly more enamored by the titties. Apart from that, his answer to the question of either/or is "yes."

Johnny Storm 50 / 50

Always changing it up because he's always on the cusp of getting bored, Johnny goes through phases. However, he is equally and actively interesting in both your tits and your ass in a sexual way which is why he gets the actual number percentages, unlike...

James Mace & Bucky Barnes- Indifferent

Slightly different reasons, but at any given time, these two change preferences. Bucky is more emotional and moody in his affection/attention, so depending on the day, he could be wildly into your breasts or your butt. He could also be really into you doting on him. This could all be for nine-million different little experiences that happened in a day or a week. Bucky can't be pinned down as just one thing--partly because he's been several different people in his life.

Mace appreciates that there are esthetically pleasing versions of body parts, that people have different ideals for those, and that it is nice to have one or more of those ideal exist in the relationship. Mace is also practical. Your body will change over time. Hell, his body will definitely change after months in space, so who is he to point out that your ass looked better one way while he loses 30 pounds of muscle between times you seen him? It's not fair and it's not realistic. He just...can't find the energy to care much about this argument. There are more important things that could be an actual problem if they changed, but your body isn't one of them.

[Enormous gap in percentages]

Ari Levinson 10 / 90

I may hate the phrase but Ari is definitely a 'dirty daddy.' He quite likes a nasty, no-holds-barred fuck fest, and those have way more to do with your lower half than your upper half. Something about your ass being his is also more satisfying than any other piece of you. He's a bit possessive that way.

Lloyd Hansen 1 / 99

Boobs can be fake, and unless he is actually fucking your tits, they aren't doing anything for him. Lloyd feeds off of touch sexually, so it's all about that booty bouncing on him or taking him deep or bruising beneath his grip, know what I mean? Yeah, you do, @ellethespaceunicorn.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would...' Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[thatesqcrush]

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.

[bangpop91]

Prompt.

I just want buck to come from a rough shift and cuddle with overdressed tommy. After being intimate he asks Tommy why he was dressed to nines, then he remembered that they had a reservation but he forgot . Tommy just consoles him that it was okay and it is part of the job.

It's had been a hellacious twenty-four hours. All he wants is to collapse into bed, preferably with Tommy, and sleep for the next year.

Tommy looks damn good, he's in the living room dressed way to nice for a night in. But that doesn't stop Tommy from recognizing the harsh lines of exhaustion wheing down Buck's body. he doesn't know if it's the way Tommy takes his work duffle tucking it into the closet right next to Tommy's or the way Tommy folds him into his arms.

"Evan." Tommy says his name, and it's like a cold glass water on the hottest day of the year. He clings to the back of Tommy's nicest suit jacket as he buries his face into Tommy’s neck. Tommy smells like something woody and sweet. It doesn't matter he lets himself be grounded by the smell of Tommy's cologne.

They are four episodes deep into Kitchen Nightmares, curled up on the couch under a weighted blanket. Tommy's polished boots have been toed off and placed next to the side of the couch, his suit jacket has been discarded and the sleeves of his nice button up have been rolled up.

Buck is currently doing his best to get Tommy out of that very nice dress shirt, unbuttoning it as he trails kisses down Tommy's chest, nuzzling the thick hair there. Tommy's head is tipped backwards as he moans over Gordon Ramsey cussing out an incompetent chef when Buck licks over Tommy's nipple.

Oh fuck!

Buck sits up suddenly. He blushing and stammering as Tommy looks at him confused with kiss swollen lips.

"We had a date, the reservation as that nice restaurant, I'm so sorry Tommy. I can't believe I forgot. I will make it up to you, I promise." Tommy kisses him before he can continue on with his shame ramble.

"Darlin, you just had the shift from hell. And there is no way you would have been able to enjoy the restaurant with how tired you looked. I don't care that the plan changed, and you absolutely do not have to make tonight up to me." Tommy is holding his face, forcing Buck to meet his eyes so he can see not just how serious his boyfriend is, but also how much Tommy loves him, that he's just as happy here on their couch as he is on a fancy date. Tommy clears his throat, his smile getting small and nervous.

"There is something I wanted to do tonight at the restaurant. But we aren't really fancy dinner people." Buck laughs, batting his eyelashes at Tommy.

"You don't have to take me out on a fancy date for that. I'm a sure thing, Babe." Tommy is the one laughing now, as he slips one of his big hands, that Buck is a little obsessed with, into the pocket of his slacks.

"Evan!" Tommy laughs with fond exasperation. "Thats not what I was talking about." Tommy is still laughing as he pulls a small black leather box out of his pocket. Insde the box is a thin gold band. "I wanted to if you will marry-"

"Yes." He blurts out making Tommy laugh.

"Let me finish!" Tommy exclaims happily, scooting closer to Evan on the large sectional sofa. "Evan Buckley, will you -let me ask you- Will you marry me?" Theybare both laughing too hard for a big speech, and Buck is too impatient for one anyway.

"Yes." The laughter stops as Tommybslids to ring onto Buck's finger, and soft, tender kisses are exchanged.

I am so sorry it took me so long to answer your prompt! My day at work yesterday was crazy so I hope this was worth the wait, tha k you for sending me your prompt.

[unluckiestmember]

Makima x Innocent! Reader

Characters: Makima, Kishibe (Mentioned)

Tags: Fluff, Developing/Established Relationship, Soft! Makima, dogs, worrying, Kishibe being Kishibe, denial of feelings and misunderstandings.

Warnings: Spoiler Warning for the International Assassins Arc and the Gun Devil Arc. SFW.

A/N: Soft Makima = Best Makima?

SFW

Makima is a controller. For her it is either her way or no way. And if you dare to defy her, she will be the last thing you ever see. 

She treats everyone like they are her dogs, toys and pawns in a larger game to win…

But not you. No, she treats you like an angel.

After missions and days at work, she will take you out to relax. No ifs ands or buts.

Gives you the best massages.

Isn't a fan of PDA. But if she feels threatened, she will grab you and show everyone who you belong to.

She won't force anything onto you unless important. She knows how timid you can be when making decisions.

She has no problem explaining to you her missions and tactics, though she will sugar coat some moments for your "safety".

Her dogs love you. They literally run in your direction when you go to Makima's home and just jump on you.

Yes, Makima is a little jealous of it.

Watches any movie you want to watch, good or bad.

If it's a horror movie, she'll hold your hand the entire time. And if there's a jumpscare, she'll hold you when you jump.

Loves when you get easily flustered but wont show it.

She'll literally stare at you with a small smile and quietly be in delight at your timid state.

Will ask about your day, which is something she doesn't do for ANYONE.

If you want a sleepover, Makima will do the whole nine yards. Endless snacks, a batch of good movies, bad movies and a bunch of blankets.

She only has ONE rule; Don't speak of what you two do outside of work to coworkers. You're her little secret. No one can have you but her. Not to mention she has a reputation to keep.

Will ask Kishibe, yes, Kishibe of all people, advice on how to care more and be better for you.

Will also ask how to tread lightly around you as to not scare you away. But will never admit it or say it out loud.

Say her eyes are beautiful or pretty. She'll melt just laugh and call you cute. Maybe even kiss you on the cheek.

In-Story (Spoilers Ahead)

When Makima fell for you, she thought she was sick.

So sick that she took a few days off of work to wonder what was happening to her.

She asked her higher ups and even Kishibe what was wrong in subtle ways.

They all concluded; she wasn't sick. She was in love.

But she didn't want to be. No, she wanted to just focus on Chainsaw Man and Denji! You were ruining her plans! You had to go.

So why couldn't she kill you?

She just couldn't kill you…

Though she continued to think her attraction to you was unnatural, she soon asked you out.

Say yes. Makima doesn't show it, but she wants you to accept her confession.

Though your relationship is not displayed around your co-workers, they know something is going on between you two.

They all think the same thing; "Good for her." "I'm happy for them." "She's dating someone? I thought she was just a scary emotionless woman!" "Lucky!"

Makima doesn't worry about anything.

So she's surprised she worries about you so much.

After your encounter with the Darkness Devil in hell, Makima was her usual quiet and mysterious self.

But Kishibe informs you she was worried sick when she found you.

And don't even get him started on how she was during the return of the Gun Devil.

She tries her best not to tell you her true motives with Denji, but if you give her puppy eyes she'll spill.

Please support her. The last thing she wants to do is kill her precious angel.

When you noticed her being extra friendly to Denji and Aki, your cute little head started to worry she would leave you for them.

She'll assure you in a sweet whisper that she only belongs to you.

Be on the look out for a jealous Denji...

"I'll admit. My motives will be seen as evil. But it is a necessary evil. I hope you understand... You have to understand. I know I can accomplish my mission, but it might be near impossible without you... Oh, I wasn't saying I-... Haha. Yes. I love you too."

Makima is a devil. A control devil. And could destroy the whole world.

But maybe. Just maybe. She'd sacrifice it all if it was for you…

Chainsaw Man requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

[artyandink]

amoralism | nine

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning in itself), mention of murder, murder, Knights of Hell but they’re just murderous humans, description of injuries, use of firearms, a mole in the FBI, Azazel, Asmodeus, crime syndicates, fluff, angst (slightly), pressure, smut, making out

STW: riding, desk sex, heavy petting (I think?), quickie

Song Inspo: Cynical by Emei

SERIES MASTERLIST

autodidactism

Dean's office was dimly lit, the blinds partially closed, allowing thin slivers of late afternoon light to filter through. The air was thick with the scent of leather, aged paper, and the faint hint of Dean’s cologne—a musky, woodsy fragrance that you found intoxicating. The door clicked shut behind you, the soft sound echoing in the small room, amplifying the silence.

Dean wasted no time. His hands were on you the moment the latch fell into place, fingers strong and urgent as they gripped your waist. He pulled you close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered your name, the word heavy with need. Your heart raced, a staccato beat that seemed to match the frantic rhythm of his touches.

Your lips met in a clash of heat and desperation. The kiss was rough, hungry, filled with the urgency of stolen moments and the thrill of the forbidden. His stubble scraped against your skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine. You could taste the faint remnants of his coffee on his tongue, mingling with the unique flavor that was purely Dean.

His hands roamed your body with practiced ease, sliding under your shirt to rest against the bare skin of your lower back. His touch was electric, each contact point a jolt of pleasure that made you gasp into his mouth. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated against your lips.

“We don’t have much time,” he murmured, the words a breathy caress against your ear. You nodded, understanding the gravity of your situation. Director Singer was a stickler for punctuality, and being late was not an option. But the pull between you and Dean was magnetic, impossible to resist.

You pushed against him, guiding him backward until his hips hit the edge of his desk. Papers and files scattered, forgotten, as you maneuvered him to sit. He obliged, his eyes dark with desire, watching your every move. You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your knees pressing into the firm leather of his chair.

His hands found your hips, gripping tightly as you ground against him. You could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers. The friction was exquisite, a sweet torture that made you ache for more.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in another searing kiss. He responded eagerly, his tongue teasing yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrillingly new each time. His hands moved to your shirt, nimble fingers working the buttons open with practiced ease. He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your chest to the cool air of the office.

His lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, along your collarbone, and lower still. He paused to take a nipple into his mouth, the sudden wet heat making you moan. His other hand slipped between your thighs, finding you already wet and ready. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough with need. You arched into his touch, your body a live wire of sensation.

The desk beneath you was hard and unyielding, a stark contrast to the softness of Dean’s lips, the gentleness of his touch. You could feel the cool edge of a stapler pressing into your thigh, the uncomfortable jab of a pen under your knee, but none of it mattered. All that existed was Dean and the fire he ignited within you.

His fingers worked their magic, stroking and teasing until you were writhing against him, desperate for release. He bit down gently on your nipple, the sharp sting sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. You cried out, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer.

“We have to hurry,” he reminded you, his voice strained. You nodded, understanding the urgency but unwilling to rush the moment. Still, you knew time was against you.

You reached between you, fumbling with the zipper of his trousers. He helped, lifting his hips to free himself from the confines of his pants. You guided him to your entrance, pausing for just a moment to savor the anticipation, the exquisite tension.

Then, with a shared breathless sigh, you sank down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. The stretch was delicious, the fullness perfect. He groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him.

The pace was frantic, driven by the ticking clock and the knowledge that every second counted. Your bodies moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and fluid, a dance of need and urgency. The desk creaked beneath you, a steady counterpoint to the sounds of your lovemaking—the gasps, the moans, the whispered names.

You could feel the coil tightening within you, the pleasure building to an inevitable crescendo. Dean’s hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His mouth found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, pulling you both closer to the edge.

When your release finally came, it was explosive, a burst of white-hot pleasure that left you trembling in his arms. Dean followed moments later, his own release tearing a guttural cry from his throat. You clung to each other, riding out the waves of ecstasy together, the world around you fading into a blur of sensation.

As the aftershocks subsided, you slumped against him, your forehead resting on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his breath hot and uneven against your neck.

“We need to get to that meeting,” he said after a moment, his voice a mix of satisfaction and lingering urgency. You nodded, reluctantly disentangling yourself from him. The room felt cooler now, the remnants of your passion dissipating into the air.

“So.” Director Singer looked at you and Dean, his face no nonsense and all business. “I need answers, now. Who’ve you got on our mole?”

You and Dean exchanged a look, then handed him the file. “Agent Nick Garrison, sir.” You started off, feeling rather proud of the research done. “We did an analysis of everything on the attacked events and leaked information.”

“Agent Garrison was at the scene of the consulate bombing, and has motive, being benched against his will after the death of his wife and kid.” Dean explained, and Director Singer looked… sceptical? “He was spotted on a sec cam the day of the attack in office ransacking the files before making his way to the building.”

“I’d call that a logical conclusion, except for the fact that Garrison’s dead.” Singer explained gruffly, which caught your attention. “So is Asmodeus. He was found shot by his buddy Azazel an hour after that incident with the MI6, which the home office sends full apologies for.”

“Asmodeus is dead?” You frowned, both you and Dean sitting up in your chairs.

Director Singer nodded gruffly, clasping his hands. “Which is why this operation needs to speed up. Our men are dropping like flies, and half of them could be bought out by the end of today.” He cleared his throat. “You need to find the source of all this, and fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can go.” Singer nodded to the door, but then gestured for Dean to remain sitting. “Agent Winchester, I’m gonna need you to stay for a few words.”

The hotel room was a warm sanctuary from the chilly night outside. Soft lighting cast a golden hue over the elegant furnishings, and the luxurious bed with its plush comforter beckoned invitingly. You stood by the window, gazing out at the city lights, feeling the day's tension slowly dissipate. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom was a soothing background hum, a reminder that Dean was only a few steps away.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Dean emerged, a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets glistening on his skin. His hair was damp, sticking up in that charmingly messy way that made your heart skip a beat. He caught your eye and flashed you that signature Dean Winchester smirk, the one that could melt you instantly.

"Hey, you," he said, his voice low and teasing as he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close. "Enjoying the view?"

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "Yeah, it's nice," you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. "How was your talk with Director Singer?"

Dean's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But then, just as quickly, his smirk returned, and he kissed the top of your head. "It was nothing," he said smoothly, his fingers tracing patterns on your waist. "Just some last-minute details about the case. You know how Singer is."

You nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for now. "Well, I hope it's all sorted out."

"It is," he assured you, turning you around to face him. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. "Now, let's forget about work and enjoy our night."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "What did you have in mind?"

Dean's grin widened, and he stepped back, reaching for something on the dresser. He held up a bottle of champagne, the label glinting in the soft light. "I thought we could start with this," he said, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Compliments of the hotel."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You and your grand gestures."

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What can I say? I like to spoil you." He grabbed two flutes from the dresser and motioned for you to join him by the bed. You followed, sitting down on the edge as he expertly popped the cork, the sound echoing softly in the room.

Dean poured the champagne, handing you a glass before settling down beside you. "To us," he said, clinking his glass against yours.

"To us," you echoed, taking a sip. The bubbly liquid tickled your throat, and you couldn't help but smile. Dean watched you, his gaze intense and filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

"So," he said after a moment, setting his glass down on the nightstand. "How about we make the most of this fancy room?"

You raised an eyebrow, setting your own glass aside. "Oh? And what did you have in mind, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I was thinking we could start by making good use of that big, comfy bed," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to the curve of your neck. "Christen it, maybe. What do you say?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the low, seductive tone in his voice. You turned your head slightly, capturing his lips in a kiss. It started slow and sweet, but quickly deepened as the heat between you grew. Dean's hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

You broke the kiss, breathless, and looked into his eyes. "I say that sounds like a plan."

Dean's grin was wicked as he stood, pulling you up with him. He guided you to the center of the bed, his hands never leaving your body. You fell back onto the soft mattress, pulling him down with you. The weight of him pressing you into the bed was a familiar and comforting sensation, one that made you feel safe and desired all at once.

His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that mirrored your own. You moaned softly, your hands slipping under the towel to grasp his hips, pulling him closer. The roughness of the towel against your skin was a tantalizing contrast to the smooth warmth of his body.

Dean pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "God, you drive me crazy," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "Good," you whispered back. "Because you do the same to me."

He groaned softly, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands moved to your shirt, deftly unbuttoning it and pushing it off your shoulders. You helped him, tossing the fabric aside, eager to feel his skin against yours. He kissed his way down your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved lower, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below your collarbone. "Dean," you gasped, your voice a breathless plea.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of love and desire. "I've got you," he murmured, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants. He made quick work of them, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. His towel fell away, and you marveled at the sight of him, his body lean and powerful above you.

Dean settled between your legs, his hands tracing the curves of your hips as he leaned in to kiss you again. The feel of him, hard and ready against you, sent a jolt of anticipation through your body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to be as close as possible.

He groaned, the sound vibrating through you as he pressed his hips against yours. "You sure you want this?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

You nodded, your hands clutching his shoulders. "Yes," you breathed. "I need you, Dean."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed you deeply, positioning himself before slowly pushing inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and connection that made you gasp. He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feel of him, but soon the urgency took over.

Dean set a rhythm, his movements steady and sure, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion, the heady mix of gasps and moans. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure built, each movement pushing you higher.

He whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, and you felt yourself tipping over the edge. The world exploded in a burst of sensation, your body trembling with the force of your release. Dean followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him as he held you close, his body tensing and shuddering with the intensity.

For a few moments, the world was still, the only sound the heavy breathing that filled the room. Dean held you, his body pressed against yours, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. You felt the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and you knew that this was where you belonged.

He kissed you softly, a gentle brush of lips that spoke of love and tenderness. "I love you," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back.

Dean shifted, rolling to the side and pulling you with him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you nestled against his chest. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, lulled you into a sense of peace and contentment.

"That was amazing," you said softly, your voice filled with awe and gratitude.

Dean chuckled, his hand stroking your hair. "You make it easy," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you for tonight," you said, your voice sincere. "I needed this."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Anytime."

Azazel leaned back in the ancient, creaking chair, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. The dim light of the infernal chamber cast long shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the sinister glint in his eyes. Across the room, Crowley stood with his usual air of nonchalance, but there was a keen interest in his gaze as he watched Azazel, waiting for the explanation he knew was coming.

"Greedy bastard had it coming," Azazel said, breaking the silence with a voice that dripped with contempt. He folded his arms over his chest, regarding Crowley with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Asmodeus always thought he was clever, always plotting, always scheming."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Well, isn't that what we all do down here? Plotting and scheming is the currency of Hell, after all."

Azazel chuckled, a low, dark sound that echoed through the chamber. "True enough, Crowley. But there's a difference between ambition and sheer stupidity. Asmodeus crossed that line."

Crowley tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What exactly did he do that warranted such a... final solution?"

Azazel's smirk widened, revealing sharp teeth. "He had delusions of grandeur, that one. Thought he could topple Lucifer, take the throne for himself. Imagine that. Asmodeus, King of Hell." He shook his head, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. "He underestimated how tightly Lucifer's grip holds. He was too greedy, too impatient."

Crowley nodded slowly, absorbing Azazel's words. "And you took it upon yourself to rid Hell of this nuisance?"

"Had to," Azazel replied, his tone darkening. "Lucifer might be the king, but he's also a symbol of order down here. The chaos we thrive on needs a certain structure, a hierarchy. Without that, we'd all be at each other's throats even more than we already are. Asmodeus was a threat to that structure. He wanted to tear it all down, remake Hell in his own image."

Crowley sighed, shaking his head. "Ambitious, but foolish. Even I wouldn't be so bold as to openly challenge Lucifer."

Azazel leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Crowley. "Precisely. You understand the game, Crowley. You know how to play your cards right. Asmodeus... he was a wild card, a loose cannon. And loose cannons have a way of blowing up in your face."

Crowley chuckled softly, appreciating the metaphor. "So, how did you do it? I imagine it wasn't easy to take down one of Hell's princes."

Azazel's grin turned wicked. "Oh, it was quite the spectacle. Asmodeus had been gathering his followers, thinking he could build an army to challenge Lucifer. But he didn't realize how many eyes were on him, how many were reporting back to me. I let him think he was safe, let him build his little rebellion."

He paused, savoring the memory. "And then, when the time was right, I struck. Caught him off guard, took out his lieutenants first. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. I faced him down, made sure he knew exactly why he was being eradicated. His last moments were... enlightening."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did he beg for mercy?"

Azazel's laughter filled the chamber, a chilling sound. "Of course he did. They all do, in the end. But mercy isn't in my nature, and it certainly wasn't in Lucifer's orders. Asmodeus had to be made an example of. A reminder to anyone else who might get similar ideas."

Crowley nodded thoughtfully, understanding the implications. "So, you did it to maintain order, to preserve the structure of Hell."

"Exactly," Azazel said, his expression serious. "Asmodeus was a threat to everything we've built. He had to be removed, not just for Lucifer's sake, but for the sake of Hell itself. Chaos needs a king, and Lucifer is that king. Anyone who challenges that, who threatens to destabilize what we've got, has to be dealt with."

Crowley leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "And now? What happens next?"

Azazel shrugged, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Now we watch. We see who else might have been swayed by Asmodeus' promises, who else might be harboring rebellious thoughts. And we remind them, in no uncertain terms, that there's only one ruler of Hell. Anyone who forgets that... well, they'll meet the same fate as Asmodeus."

Crowley chuckled, the sound low and amused. "You always were a thorough one, Azazel. I'll give you that."

Azazel's smirk returned, his confidence unwavering. "Someone has to be. In this pit of vipers, you either strike first or get bitten. And I have no intention of being anyone's prey."

Crowley straightened, giving Azazel a nod of respect. "Well, here's to keeping the chaos in check. For now, at least."

Azazel watched as Crowley turned to leave, his mind already calculating the next moves, the next threats. "For now," he agreed, his voice a dark promise. "But remember, Crowley, in Hell, the game never truly ends. It only evolves."

As Crowley disappeared into the shadows, Azazel leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing with the possibilities. Asmodeus was gone, but there would always be another challenge, another threat. And Azazel would be ready, as always, to strike first and ensure that Hell remained under Lucifer's reign.

The FBI office was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon, the buzz of the usual chatter replaced by a tense silence that hung in the air. You and Dean sat across from each other at a cluttered table in a dimly lit corner of the break room, the remnants of your lunch still scattered across a few plates. The weight of the day loomed over you, the ongoing investigation into the mole within the Bureau leaving you both on edge.

Dean leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in thought. “Okay, we’ve ruled out the obvious suspects, but we’re still no closer to figuring this out.”

You nodded, pushing your plate aside. “Right. So, let’s recap. Sam’s clean. He’s been with us the whole time, and he’s not the type to go rogue.”

“Definitely not,” Dean agreed. “Benny’s been a solid ally too. He’s got no reason to turn on us, especially after everything we’ve been through.”

You thought for a moment. “Cas… well, he wouldn’t even know how to be a mole. He’s way too focused on the bigger picture to play that kind of game.”

Dean chuckled softly. “Yeah, I can’t see him sneaking around gathering intel. And Meg and Ruby? They’ve been out of the picture for a while. It wouldn’t make sense for them to jump back in just to screw with us.”

“Exactly. So, who does that leave us with?” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table, the tension in your shoulders reflecting the weight of the situation. “There’s got to be someone we’re missing.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “What about some of the newer agents? Maybe someone who got hired recently and started feeding information to the other side?”

You frowned, shaking your head. “That’s a possibility, but we’ve been keeping tabs on the new recruits, and nobody seems suspicious. Besides, it would be risky for them to try something like that so soon.”

Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair again, a frustrated look crossing his features. “So, we’re back to square one. It feels like we’re missing something really obvious here.”

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep the frustration at bay. “Let’s think outside the box. Who else would have access to the information? Who would benefit from it?”

He pondered for a moment. “Well, there are a few higher-ups we could look into. But honestly, most of them are either loyal or just too ambitious to risk everything for a payoff.”

“True,” you replied. “And the ones that have a history of being shady have already been investigated. If they were dirty, we’d know by now.”

Dean's jaw tightened, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “Maybe we’re not thinking about this the right way. Instead of focusing on people, what if it’s a network? Someone in the office is being used as a pawn without even knowing it.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea. “A pawn? Like, someone who’s being manipulated?”

“Exactly,” Dean said, leaning forward, his eyes brightening. “What if it’s someone we trust, but they’ve been compromised somehow? Maybe through blackmail or threats.”

You nodded slowly, mulling over the implications. “That’s a scary thought. We could be looking at someone who genuinely believes they’re doing the right thing, but they’re being coerced into playing both sides.”

“Right.” Dean’s brow furrowed again. “But that just adds another layer of difficulty. If we can’t identify the person being manipulated, how do we figure out who’s pulling the strings?”

You bit your lip, the tension rising as you considered the possibilities. “We need to gather more intel. Talk to people, see if anyone’s acting differently. Maybe we can spot something that seems off.”

Dean straightened, a determined look on his face. “Okay, we can do that. But we need to be careful. If the mole catches wind that we’re onto them, it could get dangerous. We can’t risk exposing ourselves too soon.”

“Agreed,” you said, feeling a surge of adrenaline. “But we also can’t just sit back and wait. We need to be proactive about this.”

Dean nodded, his expression serious. “Let’s set a plan. We’ll start by going over the files of anyone who’s had access to the sensitive information. We can cross-reference that with anyone who’s been acting strange lately.”

“Sounds good,” you replied, feeling the familiar thrill of the hunt. “We can work through the night if we have to.”

He grinned, the tension easing slightly. “You know I’m always up for a late-night investigation. We’ll crack this case, one way or another.”

You both stood up from the table, clearing away the remnants of your lunch as you began to formulate a strategy. The air was thick with determination as you made your way to the main office, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

“Let’s keep an eye on everyone,” Dean said, his voice low as you walked past your coworkers. “No one gets a free pass. If they act weird, we’re going to dig deeper.”

NEXT UP:

“I don’t think you were ever that perceptive, eh?” He grinned at you, clasping his hands together. “Ain’t no game that’s worth it if you ain’t the winner, am I right? But I played you good.”

“You sure did.” You replied, being cold about it the best you could. Your arms folded, jaw set and staring him dead in the eye. “But why did you do it?”

He laughed, throwing his head back before he looked back to you with a smirk. He cracked his Cheshire grin and gave you his best cocky-ass smile, one that made him look like the Devil. But there was only one thing worse than the Devil and that was the Devil in lion's clothing. “Because it’s fun.”

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[thebluester2020]

Humbly asking for your horny Jio rant (≧ω≦。)!!!!

(I am ravenous for even the smallest of crumbs)

Summary: [RSV] Jio NSFW Alphabet (I pick my favorite letters so nothing's in order!) Warning(s): 18+ filth (Im not holding back, y'all have been warned) Kinda nothing tbh I'm literally just spitting from the mouth and hoping it makes sense. Rough Sex + Dub-con(?) (In letter D but it's Jio's imagination), Side note(s): Oh girl/boy/sibling...ANON BUCKLE UP. I struggled writing this ngl, I could write a fucking essay about how much this man means to me but I didn't want to use a ask to just rant away so...this is like a normal NSFW ABC fic but with some humor (my horny rantings) sprinkled in so lol, be on the lookout for those. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

quick side note ; to the poor unfortunate souls that may come across this post don't have a single fucking clue who Jio is. This is Jio from the RSV mod aka the man I'd willingly slut myself out to.

extra note alert ; Before we begin though, I want to make one thing really clear.

I'm biased as all hell toward Jio because I have the biggest thing for elves. Woman, man, doesn't matter to me. If they have pointy ears and are unusually attractive and tall, then I'm all in dude. So with that being said? Please believe me when I say that stars shot from my eye sockets when I learned this man was an elf.

AND THAT'S NOT EVEN THE BEST PART.

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Jio would be the king of aftercare. His dialogue already implies that him and farmer get freaky on the regular so he'll definitely ask you if you need any water or if anywhere is a little more sore than the usual (in which case, he's giving you a massage that puts professionals to shame). But if you say no to any of these and state that you'd rather just cuddle, he's pulling you closer to his body immediately and whispering sweet words to you as he pets your head until you go to sleep.

♡ - "Drink," The soft-spoken word made you steadily crack your eyes open before, through your hazy vision, you saw Jio standing over you with a cup of water in his hand. You snickered quietly to yourself as you propped yourself on your arm to take it, the crispy refreshing taste of the liquid going down your throat both hydrating you as well as giving your body a jolt of awakeness. And as a delicious ache ran through your body, particularly in-between your legs after you and Jio's love-making session.

Your cheeks started to darken and warm a little at the memory of what you and your husband had done only a few minutes ago. Something that Jio quickly picked up on as he smirked at the alluring sight of you growing more and more embarrassed from your own thoughts. "Something on your mind, my love?"

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Jio would definitely be proud of his muscles. There's a scene where the farmer openly gawks at him when he's meditating in his spouse area so I think after seeing his spouse so openly drool over him. He'd become more focused on his muscles when he trains and would definitely give the farmer a little show every now and again. As for the farmer, though? As cheesy as this response is, I think Jio would love every part of you, there's no part that he favors really because he thinks your literal being is a blessing in his eyes. This means there's definitely a lot of body worship during sex.

♡ - You felt like you were on cloud nine right now as Jio kissed every available surface area of skin on your body.

Each time his lips would ghost over your skin. The more your thighs twitched with the urge to clench if it weren't for your husband situating himself between them, his hand teasingly petting at your soaked cunt much to your dismay. "J-Jio..." You begged, the sound of your whiny voice making the elf throb in his pants before he looked up at you through hooded eyes. He placed one last kiss on your hand before he responded with a throaty "Yes"?

"Please..."

You hated how you felt yourself throb at the sight of him smirking at you, almost as if he were a fox who just an inch closer to capturing his prey. "Please what, my star?" He turned your hand over to press a kiss in the middle of your palm before he moved down to your stomach, kissing down and closer and closer to the area you wanted him most until he stopped again. "You have to be more specific, begging aimlessly won't get you anywhere."

You pouted. "T-There." You tried gesturing to your aching pussy by grinding forward against his clothed dick, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. Yet, as quickly as you tried to seduce him into giving up on reminding you of his manners, he moved back a little to avoid any more of your tempting ministrations.

"You know how to ask properly, not by acting like a tempting vixen." He pinched your thigh lightly as a warning, a whine escaping your lips as you ran your tongue over them.

"Please...touch my pussy, I-I need you."

His praising smile felt like it could light up your very soul. "As you wish, my star."

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Okay so— I feel like when it comes to Jio himself? He's not big on cumming on you. Since he sees as no less than a goddess basically, in his eyes? Cumming on you is degrading, no matter how much you try to convince him that you're into it. However, cumming inside of you is definitely on the books, he loves it. As for you though? This man is a total Munch Master 365 days out of the year. Want to ride his face until he squirts on you? He's into it. When he fucks you and he sees your slick beginning to drip from your hole and onto the floor, he has to resist the urge to eat you out in order to continue stuffing you full. Your cum is essentially ambrosia to him, he could go hours drinking you down and he's never going to be fully satisfied.

♡ - He couldn't get enough of your sweet nectar.

Your delicious slick that dripped from your needy cunt after just a few minutes of foreplay. Jio would've had a mind to laugh if he weren't so focused on sucking on your clit right now, his arms locked around your thighs to keep you from closing them as you moaned and pulled at his hair, the stinging pain encouraging him to keep going in his ministrations whilst he struggled to try and keep a close eye on you.

But, from the combined fact that his head was swirling from both your taste and his growing lust, as well as his bare cock twitching against the bedsheets, the little friction it had from his grinding against the sheets only did enough to make him needier and needier for your warmth rather than actually getting him off!

Then again, in the face of your pleading eyes looking down at him in a silent bid for him to keep going until you came...

How was he able to deny such an expression?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He definitely would've had a dirty imagination about you once or twice before you two even started dating. However, they would mostly be along the lines of "Yoba, this farmer is so annoying because they say hi to me every day...let me fuck them to take my frustrations out on them". Now, when these thoughts would pop up, he would definitely try to bury them, to the point no matter how hard his dick if after thinking about it. He's not going to falter and touch himself. But oh boy, does it cause him to start to see you in a new light after starting to think about what you look like under your clothes.

♡ - Typically, Jio was in control of himself much more than this.

He wasn't aware of a single thing in this world that could shake his foundations or make him waver in his beliefs. But...it seemed that you were a unique exception because, for the last few nights since the night the two of you began talking since your victory in the Spirit World. His mind has been...plagued, with certain imaginations that is.

Imaginations that focused on the topic of how annoyed he was of you.

It was infuriating how you didn't understand the words 'Go Away'.

So, in the deepest reaches of his mind, he knew the perfect method to make you understand how much he disliked you. He'd approach you in a forest, perhaps you would already be on your way to talk to him one-sidedly once more, and he'd pull you towards him before smashing his lips against you.

His cock would twitch inside his pants at the sound of your needy moan, eager and possibly elated at the fact that you were finally getting the attention you were seeking from the very beginning as Jio swiftly pressed you against the bark of a tree and flip up your skirt.

"Tch," He click his tongue at the sight of your soaked panties, lightly pinching your backside when you wiggled your ass to tempt him into giving you more. "...Such a needy thing, hold still. I'll give you what you so eagerly want." He'd whisper, more to himself rather than you as he quickly freed his cock and wasted no more time to pull your panties to the side before he stuffed you full in one thrust.

Yet the second he'd begin to move...he'd snap himself of his thoughts.

Now the elf was faced with a new task. To find a way to calm his raging hard-on, he refused to fall into the pit of temptation that he was so certain you were trying to lead him into.

extra note ; Continuing on my last point—

He's. A. Tsundere.

He's. Mean (with that hidden sweet side to spice it all up)

And not to expose myself but I fucking love mean men. And to be honest? I'll go a step further. THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO BE NICE??? During the Ridgeside quest line, the first two years of my playthrough revolved around J I O, and with every single mean dialogue he dished my way, I licked right up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

I think of Jio as a half-in-half case. On most nights, he's super romantic and likes to treat your body as if it was gifted to him by Heaven itself (i.e If you're not confusing the moment for a Wattpad scene then he's thinking he hasn't done enough). On the flip side though, he'll ditch the romance if he's super pent-up or if you're explicitly asking for him to treat you a lil' more roughly.

♡ - His heart felt like it was close to bursting.

Within the dimly lit room of your shared bedroom, the soft sounds of your sexes meeting could be heard as he trusted up into you as you sat on his lap, the two of you sharing a hugging embrace as his cock twitched inside of you at the sound of your moans.

But, his orgasm was steadily becoming an afterthought as all Jio could focus on was you. After all that he had been through in his life, all the sacrifices he's made—

How could he be so lucky to be with you in this moment?

To have your love and attention?

"My love," He panted out, his voice uncharacteristically breathless and whiny as he nearly pleaded for your eyes to be on him. Shakily, you took your face from the crook in his neck to look at him, your hands sliding up his body until they cupped his face. And from that simple action alone, the elf had fallen deeper in love with you.

"Y-Yes" You responded to him, your face somehow warming even more as you looked into your husband's lovesick eyes. A small smile was on his smile and his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears appeared flushed.

Jio smiled as you caressed and held his cheeks before his face fell to rest in the valley between your breasts. "You're so pretty." He sighed dreamily.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't jerk off much, to be honest. (And to be honest? I feel like his libido doesn't really "activate" unless you're around him) Even when you two are in a relationship and I fully believe it's because 1. He's usually too busy/focused on his missions to think of rubbing one out or 2. He has you so if he's in the mood then he'll just go to you. But should you not be in the picture at the moment? He'll just get himself off to a piece of clothing that smells like you or his imagination.

♡ - "Fuuckk..." Jio whispered to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand slowly stroking his cock as he breathed in the smell of your scent from a shirt you left behind on the bed. The combination of that plus the imagination of your hands being the one on his dick rather than his own...it made for a pretty convincing moment that led him closer and closer to his orgasm.

It wasn't often that the elf masturbated. It wouldn't ever compare to the real thing.

But...when you said you'd be on Ginger Island for the next few days to attend to businesses there, he was expected to uphold the task of keeping things here on your farm in order.

And he'd do just that.

However, he didn't expect that his body would react so strongly to your absence. Even as his ministrations on himself slowly got faster and faster on his cock, going so far as to even spit on his dick to try and poorly imitate your slick and how it'd make your movements faster.

It was dull in comparison.

So dull that as his hands slowed and he came to a stop. All he felt was boredom. "...Yoba," He hissed in frustration.

He'd simply wait until you returned.

final note alert ; I saved my biggest thought bubble for the end so here we go-

Jio is the best-modded husband hands-down. Literally fight me on this. It's hard to convey my thoughts fully without giving concrete evidence (+ the fact that I'm going based off my memory since I haven't done a playthrough of the RSV questline in a lil' bit) but I think that anyone who's on the fence of RSV needs to give it a shot, even if it's just for Jio 💀. Like deadass, the whole reason I started this blog in the first place was to have a reason to rant about this man every now and again before it became a place for me to rant about hot people in general.

To reiterate, I'm biased as hell because I have a thing for elves and mean guys but seriously to anyone who reads this.

GIVE RSV A TRY.

Hot elf guy aside, the character stories in the mod are super good. Like I'd recommend Shiro, June, Ian etc. ANYDAY OF THE WEEK. I can't imagine my modded Stardew without Ridgeside Village so-

YEAH PLAY THE MOD SO I HAVE MORE PEOPLE TO RANT ABOUT THE HOT MEN WITH <33

[blacklegsanjiii]

I wanna see Mihawk with a fem golden!Sanji. I don't think much would change over all but I feel like Mihawk being a girldad would be hilarious. Because she's nine and looks like she's six and she's been through hell and back and she's scared of men and boys. Mihawk doesn't interact with girls or women all that much so Zeff shoving them together would be hilarious and heart warming I think. Mihawk would be The GirlDad™️ and not even know it. This is so long. I'm so sorry(not).

Like Mihawk who wraps and braids and cords his swords looking at his daughters hair and taking the time to help care for it and make it look nice because she hasn't had somebody do that for her in years. She lends an ear to his stories and music and she doesn't comment for a while, a long while but when she does start adding her opinions in a soft voice he does smile a bit.

They probably dance a lot, like Mihawk would have taught golden!Sanji anyway, but with his daughter he probably teaches her more of the pairs dances she might have to do during Baratie parties or something. But she's small, like half his size when she starts learning so he's holding her and dancing around the room and she's laughing and Mihawk is smiling. During one such Baratie party Zeff managed to get a photo of this and it's framed in Mihawk's office. The one Sanji has framed in her room is of her passed out on Mihawk's chest in her chef coat and pants and him passed out with an arm over Sanji and the other over his eyes. Five people in the world have seen these photos and no one else believes they exist.

Sanji knows a lot about sex, no one who works at sea - no matter how old, unfortunately - can't not know. Mihawk tries to make the conversations not awkward but like he's Mihawk and Sanji is Sanji so at first they're probably awkward and very factual until Sanji's older and living Baratie and asking her dad some bizarre questions about sex, like what certain acts are or something. Like technical terms and when he's asking her why she's asking she mentions how Zeff and the cooks killed a man or something for propositioning her or something and Mihawk is like 'Ah, yes. I did leave you in good hands for work training, but nothing else.' and then explains whatever she's asking and they'll dive into the nuances of certain acts or the mechanics.

And when Zoro and Perona are on Kuraigana, Mihawk is looking at them and is like 'okay, well, my daughter's not here and neither of you will fit in her clothes' and they're both shocked he has a kid as he digs in old chests and finds clothes for them. Perona isn't in Sanji's old room but they are allowed to look through the room and see if there's anything they'd like to borrow. Zoro probably finds a very old copy of Noland the Liar and tells Mihawk and Perona going there and how the cook was scared of all the bugs. Mihawk is neutral until Zoro opens up the page and sees Sanji's name and Zoro laughs and says there's two people named three in the world and Perona has keyed into something but she's not sure what as Mihawk is like 'just one, to my knowledge, my daughter is the cook of your crew.' and Zoro pales immediately.

One time they're all in Mihawk's office as he goes over paperwork and Perona asks why there's a blonde braid on his desk next to a photo of him and a kid. Zoro comes to look and says they both remind him of Sanji and Mihawk is like 'did you both already forget who my daughter is?' as pinches the bridge of his nose. Mihawk explains the braid is from when Sanji moved to Baratie full time and left home. She has one of Yoru's old cords and her own photo from a Baratie party. Also no one will believe them that this photo exists. Nor is anyone going to believe them about Mihawk having a daughter. He sits back and watches in amusement as realization takes both of them and that outside of the geezer and Sanji, no one will believe Zoro and no one in Perona's life will believe her.

When the Strawhats are reunited Zoro corners Sanji and demands to see the photo of her and her dad and Sanji is making fun of him for losing his eye on Kuraigana as she shows him the photo and the cord. I also feel like it becomes common knowledge on the ship because someone(Usopp and Luffy) found the photo and brandished it to the crew and Robin is cooing at baby Sanji with Nami and Zoro is talking about the photo Mihawk has on his desk. Everyone is staring at the cook in awe and she points out none of them asked.

Every time they get an ally and Luffy is introducing his crew and gets to Sanji she thumps him on the head and is like 'you can't keep telling people who my dad is! You're going to get us killed!' and no one fucking believes it until they pass the photo on the way into the galley. And (for the Lawsan agenda) everyone always makes a comment about how darling they look but Law asks how Mihawk even acquired her and Sanji mentions he saved her and the geezer and took her with. Geezer said he needed someone to make the man soft so the blonde girl would do. Law is like 'oh this is me and Cora just flipped' and then he starts falling for the cook. Because she is good at making people soft, she gives him a place away from Luffy and the others, has coffee ready at all times of the day, and is insanely good at bickering with multiple people as well as intelligent conversations. When they start dating, post WCI and during Wano, Sanji brings up meeting her dad eventually and Law points out he's met the man. Sanji says knowing the man as a warlord and as her boyfriend are different and will garner different reactions which makes Law blanch and Jinbei and Marco fucking lose it at them.

When Law does meet the man as Sanji's boyfriend? It's happenstance, Mihawk is sailing by and figured he'd check on Zoro(and Sanji) and Sanji has a few drinks in her(courtesy of Ikkaku) and is on Law's lap when he rolls up he hears the crews talking and Zoro and Luffy welcome him aboard since this isn't pirate business, just a man checking on his kids and Luffy announces to everyone that 'Sanjis dad is here!' and Law and Sanji are staring at the swordsman who is staring back as Shachi and Penguin are losing it and Law shambles him and his girlfriend away out of not panic but a definite fear for his safety.

Sanji is of course telling him he's dumb and just made it so much worse for them because her dad is a master of observation haki. He will find them. Law groans buries his face in her neck because they're a few drinks deep and were not planning on introductions yet, but they have to be made. Also they shambled to Law's room on the Tang so they have to make their way from the Tang to the Sunny. Mihawk is talking with Zoro and nods at them as they go back and Zoro asks Law if Mihawk scared him that much and Sanji says to be nice but Mihawk does agree he's a rather frightful person to have as your partner's parent. Sanji frowns at him and Mihawk raised a brow at her and then she very unceremoniously drags her dad to the galley and he lets her. He just goes which might be the more concerning part because even Zoro is surprised the man lets her pull him around.

They return with wine and glasses to join the party and Law can tell his girlfriend is blushing from whatever they were talking about in the galley as she stands beside him and Mihawk next to her and they open the wine as Mihawk looks to Law.

"I don't necessarily do 'shovel talks' if that's what you're concerned about." Mihawk says smoothly.

"Right." Law nods. "Knowing you're her father is enough, I assume?"

"Well, Zeff and the cooks from Baratie maimed or killed those who were...uncouth. I have no doubt my daughter would kick your ass if you needed it. I assume I would only be called if something dire were to happen." Mihawk answers as he sips his wine. "I didn't kill Roronoa to defend my daughter's honor because she can do that herself."

"Yeah, sure." Zoro hummed in his drink. Sanji handed her glass to Law as Mihawk looked amused and then shocked at Sanji's legs catching on fire as she rushed the green haired man.

"She can skywalk too." Law says as he watches the fight start. "When I saved Zoro-ya after Kaido punched him I shambled us down and she happened to catch both of us. One on each shoulder and still managed to not lose speed."

"Yes, well, being a chef does require a decent amount of upper body strength already, cooking for this crew even more so." Mihawk acknowledges. "Though her hair not being braided is new." He tacks on tilting his head as the wings fight.

"She hasn't the entire time we have been dating." Law says in a questioning tone. Mihawk hums as they watch the cook fight the swordsman, Luffy is laughing and reminding Law he can't take Sanji with him which makes Law flush and yell at him which makes Mihawk chuckle into his wine as the fight concludes. Sanji goes back over and Mihawk hands her his glass and just starts braiding her hair because 'what the fuck have you been doing to your hair?' 'Nothing! Look at my crew! It wouldn't last a day!' 'So pin it.' and everyone is watching him make quick work of her hair and then takes his wine back. The father daughter duo definitely threaten to call Zeff on each other. Mihawk is surprisingly relaxed during the party, even when his daughter leaves with her boyfriend to sleep,

The next morning he's helping Sanji cook in the galley of the Thousand Sunny and Law is the first to come in, despite his hangover, and does say his cooks are providing breakfast to his crew and Sanji nods and gives him coffee. As the crew filters in for breakfast Nami asks Mihawk about braiding and how quick he did it. Mihawk answers he's been cording sword hilts for most of his life and wrapping with multiple cords is just braiding and applying it to his daughter's hair was not so different and offers a demonstration. Which Nami agrees to eagerly and Robin smiles and says that would be a good idea. Mihawk tells Law he is participating, no arguments.

After breakfast is cleaned up Sanji is sat on a chair on deck and Nami has brought the hair pins and hair ties out and Mihawk shows them all several different braids, ranging from simple to intricate. Law is taking many mental notes during this whole thing. When he is made to do a braid on his girlfriend under her father's watchful eye Law doesn't shake because he's a surgeon who has been in worse situations and executes it well. Mihawk departs with a clap to his shoulder and a promise the next time they'll meet to be an excellent fight. Sanji is smiling and once Mihawk is gone asks Law how it was meeting her dad. Law groans and curses her and pulls her close because her dad is terrifying and he's afraid he knotted the shit out of her hair and he will hear about it.

[idontplaytrack]

hi!! could i request a fluffy rosa diaz x reader fic where reader works as a detective at the precinct and rosa kind of has a soft spot for her (more like a crush on her), so when rosa gets sick like in that one episode reader finally convinces rosa to admit she doesn’t feel good and takes her home and takes care of her? tysm!!

✧ Hermosa

Rosa Diaz x detective fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, implied smut at the end

Thank you for your request! :)

You clocked in at exactly nine o’clock that morning. Right on time, you looked at the desk opposite of yours and it was empty. “Amy, has Rosa come in yet?”

“Oh. No.” Amy’s eyes widen briefly, shocked.

“Oh, wow. Rosa’s not here yet? Doesn’t she stay like really near here?” Jake remarked.

“Yes she does.” Gina chimed in, “Her apartment is the closest to the precinct.”

“Is she not coming to work today?” Amy asks you.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

“Right.” Amy smiled sheepishly, focusing back on her work.

“She hasn’t texted you or anything?” Jake carries on the conversation with you while you got settled.

“No, I just thought she was already here-” Before you could say anything else, hurried footsteps interrupted your train of thought. Your eyes followed the sound, which turned out to be Rosa who’d just arrived.

“Holy shit, girl.” Gina broke the silence as the rest of the squad watched her, bewildered, “You look like hell.” Rosa scowled, sitting down in her chair.

You’d been glaring at her since the moment she sat down across from you. Rosa shot you a look meaning for you to drop it and leave her alone. That was the end of that conversation for a bit. Meanwhile, she was sniffly and sneezed a handful of times. Not to mention she looks pale as a sheet. She somehow made it to lunch before you got so annoyed that you pulled her aside, “Will you just admit you’re sick and let me take you home?”

“y/n, I’m fine. Diaz’s don’t get sick.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you then? Just trying a new makeup look for Halloween?” You huffed.

Rosa chuckles. “What’s so funny?” You ask, almost offended.

“Ha ha.” She responded, “You’re not scary.”

“Rosa!” You nearly rolled your eyes, “You’re sick, please just let me take you home so you can rest? The last thing I want is you passing out on the gross precinct floors.”

“Wait a minute-” Rosa got all serious for a second, “You said ‘please’?”

“What?” You asked, puzzled.

“You asked if you could please take me home.” She pointed out.

“So?”

“So, okay.” She shrugged, “Whatever.”

“Okay?” You repeated, not expecting her to agree.

“Rosa’s going home?” Jake gasps, “Oh, she so likes you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Rosa complains, tossing an eraser at him.

“I’ve been watching you two, Diaz.” Gina added on, “Very flirty~”

You tried to hide a blush that very clearly still showed. “You two would be great together.” Charles chimed in, “So great.”

“Also, that height difference is mwah- perfect.” Gina wasn’t done.

“I agree.” Amy shrugged, “Rosa’s always had like a soft spot for you. From the day you started, even.”

“Wow, you guys are suddenly experts, huh?” Rosa scoffed, “Let’s go, y/n. Ignore them- they’re a bunch of kids.”

————

As Rosa laid on her couch, you were at the stove cooking her some soup. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” You glanced at her over your shoulder.

“Do you buy what they say?”

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“Do you think they’re right? That I’ve had a crush on you since you joined our squad?”

You stayed quiet for a minute, stirring the soup. “Um…you’re not gonna beat me up depending on my answer, are you?”

“What?” Rosa guffaws, and ended up coughing. “No, that’s crazy.”

“Well, if I’m being honest. I hope they are, because literally- god, this is going to sound so stupid.”

“Oh, just say it.” Rosa insisted, grabbing a tissue to blow her nose.

“Over time, I’ve found myself liking you as more than a friend. But- despite all the time we spend together while on the job, I realise I still don’t really know you. But I mean, the squad thinks we’re best friends. And I’d like to think that we’re close because you haven’t threatened to chop me up yet and compared to how you are with the rest of them, don’t you see a difference? I mean, do you?” You panicked at the end.

Now Rosa was stunned into silence. That was a first. “Honestly…I didn’t even realise what I was doing. It just naturally happened over time- Holt kept partnering us up and little by little, we got closer.” She began, “I guess…I didn’t dare to take a bigger step to actually flirt with you because I get so nervous, I suck at it. And- I didn’t know if you were attached or not so I didn’t want to weird you out either.”

She’s never one to talk about her feelings- she says it makes her want to throw up. But she actually opened up and talked to you. You were shocked, then you were somewhat…honoured. Maybe also a little smug that you managed to get that out of her.

You turned the stove off, grabbing a bowl and a spoon. “I’m not seeing anyone and I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before.” You admit, she walks over to the kitchen- to you, and wrapped her arms around you from behind. “You’re the first person that I’ve fallen for so quickly and so hard, it feels terrifying, but also equally exciting. But I just- I really didn’t know and didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid of the outcome.” You managed to say before her grip around you tightened fully, and she’d rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She asked softly as she watched you ladle a scoop of the chicken noodle soup into the bowl. You would’ve dropped the damn ladle if you weren’t so aware that she had her arms around you.

“Will I be your girlfriend?” You repeated her question in disbelief, “Oh, my God. Yes, Rosa.”

She chuckles into your ear, sending a chill down your spine and made you squirm, “I won’t kiss you because I don’t want you to get sick, but once I’m better, you’re about to get pampered, hermosa.” You asked her to let go of you so you could take the bowl over to the table, and she does.

“Eat with me.”

“Yeah, I will. Just gonna set this down for you first.” You told her.

Rosa tells you to return to the precinct after lunch, but you said no. “Holt let me. Besides, he says if they needed me, I’ll get a call. I don’t think he was expecting me to go back today, anyway.”

Rosa smirked, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“What I mean, is that he seems to know about your little crush on me.”

“No he doesn’t.”

You snorted, “Please- he so does. Yesterday, I was out with him for a case. He asked me directly if I liked you and if I’d noticed that you’ve been extra nice to me. Also, it was very funny to see that look on his face when I dragged you into his office so he could see how pale you were.”

“Hilarious.” Rosa agreed, “Thanks- for making me the soup and making me come home.”

“No problem.” You smiled, eating a spoonful of the food.

“Look, this soup is great, but why couldn’t we get pizza?”

“That dairy’s just gonna make you more congested.” You pointed out. “Like I would care.”

“You might not, but I do. I’m the one that’s taking care of you and having to deal with your whining.”

“My whining?” She gasps dramatically, “God, y/n. I think that’d be you. We made out at the New Year’s party and you were whiny freaking mess.”

You blushed thinking about the memories of that night. “Speechless?” She teased, “What do you say you get us dinner tonight and I’ll give you a little thank-you? I might be sick and can’t kiss you, but there’s a lot I can do with just my hands.”

“I’ll think about it.” You shrug, a smirk creeping onto your face.

[bitchystxrk3000]

Surprise, Surprise

A/N- Please keep in mind, this is my first time writing a Reader Insert. So, I'm sorry in advance if this isn't that good.

Loki x Fem!Reader

F/F= Favorite Food

Imagine on the elevator, Thor talks to Loki about a girl he met while on Midgard, having no idea that girl happened to be Loki girlfriend of 6 years, you.

"I'm sorry, my lady." Thor's voice booms throughout the kitchen after having bumped into you after turning away from the fridge. You smiled softly and nodded your head in thanks. "It's no problem Thor." you said. "Would you like to have lunch with me, my lady? Everyone seems to be out of the Compound at the moment." Thor asks in a surprisingly soft voice. "Why the hell not? My name is Y/N L/N, by the way." You smiled widely. "It is nice to meet you, lady Y/N. What would you like to eat?" Thor grins, gesturing to open-planned kitchen in the Avengers Compound. "I'll just take a plate of F/F from the fridge, Thor. Thank you." You spoke before sitting at the dinning room table, as Thor plated both you and him some F/F. After heating both plates up, Thor flopped into the chair next to the one you were sitting in, after putting both plates on the table. You and Thor got to know one another as you both ate. Loki had told you about Thor and stories about when they were little, but you didn't think Thor would have such Golden Retriever energy based off of what Loki had said. You guys eventually went separate ways as Thor said he was off to the gym. You bid goodbyes as you went back to Loki's room. As you arrived at Loki's room, you could see him walking down the hall towards the Elevator. "I'm going to get a new book, my Queen." Loki spoke softly but loud enough for you to hear, without turning around, as if sensing your confusion. "Ok, I'll be in your bedroom, my King." You spoke before heading into Loki's room and closing the door.

Loki got to the elevator the same time as Thor, and coincidentally the Library and gym are one floor apart. Going the same way, down. Thor held the elevator doors open for his brother which had Loki nodding his thanks. "I met such a wonderful maiden today, brother." Thor announced as the elevator doors closed. Loki raised an eyebrow in question, which Thor noticed. "Why yes, she was the upmost kind and sweet woman I've ever met. I think you would love her. She has a mischievous side but also has a kind and caring nurture to her. I think you and her would get along great after some of the pranks she told me she's pulled on her older brother." Thor explained with a bright smile. "Who is this, you speak of Thor?" Loki questioned with genuine curiosity. "Her name was Y/N L/N. She was brilliant, she was." Thor spoke, with wild gestures of his hands, before smiling at his brother. "I think you and her would get along great." He added quickly, noticing Loki's amusement to the situation. Loki nodded with a mischievous sparkle to his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, brother. Thank you." He spoke with a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. "No problem, brother." Thor grinned while giving Loki a pat on the back.

As Thor and Loki went their separate ways once arriving to the destined floor, Loki smiled to himself, a genuine smile, just thinking about you and thinking he's ready to tell the team about you. He knows you're the one for him. You complete him. You make him feel things he's never felt before. You are the love of his life. He doesn't know what he would do without you. You make him a better person. Loki is happy for the first time in what feels like forever because of you. He is beyond grateful he met you. He would go to the end of the Nine Realms for you. He would kill for you. He would do anything you asked of him. You have him wrapped around your finger like there is no tomorrow.

[erithel]

Hello...Do you mind if I ask your top 5 (or top 10) favorite moments from any media that you love (books, anime/manga, tv series, movies, games, etc)? Thanks if you want to answer. Sorry if I ask too much....

That's such a fun question!

And definitely one that's difficult to answer... But let me see what I can come up with.

*These are not in order of favorite, just in the order I thought of them.*

1- Agni Kai ("Avatar the Last Airbender") This one is just a literal masterpiece. The visuals, the action, the music, the lack of dialogue, the show of character in their fighting... Literally mesmerizing.

2- Eri smiling ("My Hero Academia") She is the sweetest little girl and watching her smile as the darkness washes away from her after everything she was put through...it makes me cry.

3- Nadiya winning "The Great British Baking Show" I love Nadiya, and it was such an emotional moment to see her talk about how she would never doubt herself again, you could see how hard she was on herself and how much she didn't believe she could do something like this - and it was just so encouraging to see all her hard work pay off.

4- Kars for Kids ("The Good Place") We had to pause the episode to let me finish laughing because this caught me so off guard. Especially because it feels like an inside joke, almost. Like either you don't know what they're talking about with that song, or you are like YES THAT IS THE THEME SONG OF HELL.

5- I Want it That Way ("Brooklyn Nine-Nine") It's just brilliant. It's so funny, and no matter how many times I watch it, it always makes me laugh.

6- Rooftop scene between Daredevil and Punisher ("Daredevil") This scene always stood out to me because it didn't resolve with either character caving into the other's beliefs. I was so used to scenes always having a resolution, so this one was captivating because it was some of the best and most realistic dialogue I remember watching at the time.

7- Poison ("Hazbin Hotel") All I will say is that this was so hard to watch, and that was the point. Whoever worked on this did such an amazing job in conveying the situation from a place of understanding and not just for shock value.

8- Bad Wolf Rose ("Doctor Who") This moment always stuck with me because it showed what humans were capable of. And the fact that all her lines were spoken in a very soft, gentle tone made it all the more powerful.

9- Dracarys ("Game of Thrones") This moment I liked because it was just sheer comeuppance and satisfaction. I also was working retail at the time, and this had such "I AM the manager" vibes lol.

10- Riza Hawkeye shooting ("Full Metal Alchemist") She's such a good character, and she was usually so stoic and in control of any situation - until she thought the man she (at least in my mind) loved was dead, and she just absolutely lost it.

There are some shows/movies where I liked too many moments that it's safer to say I just like the thing as a whole, and no one moment stuck out too much. And I left books off the list so I could add a gif/video to this post.

I know that the minute I post this, I will think of many more moments, but I'm trying not to overthink this or I'll be here forever lol

I generally like moments of big emotion. Or at least moments that make me feel things - good or bad.

Thanks for this question! It was fun to think about. :)

[bri-sonat]

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five - Part One

Questions are taken from this. The original poster deactivated their account, so it's the reblog that is linked. All the questions are modified and some are removed (either because the question had already been answered or because it referred to hetero relations.)

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five Masterlist

Happy Friday! Starting off the weekend in the best way possible with some smexy questions for the Big Five we all know and love. A beautiful joint effort between @daydream-cement and I. With the occasional assistance from dear @na-shoba. The last time me and Kaley did one of these, we went back and forth, however, this time, she has stubbornly told me to post all the parts since she posts the Bri and Mir fics. So I will be your NSFW question dealer this time. Enjoy!

When did they lose their virginity?

Brienne: Late twenties if she ends up finding a partner. Or never.

Larissa: 17

Lucifer: Virginity is a construct.

Phasma: 18. That’s the only time she remembers anyways. When she turned 18, she fucked every one of her fellow female troopers that saw her face or saw her remotely undressed, if they didn’t take the bait and refused sex, threatening them to silence always worked. It was a way to “keep them quiet,” and “ensure their silence.” Also, if they raked their eyes over her body in any way, shape, or form. All consensual, of course.

Miranda: 20

Do they prefer rough sex or soft sex?

Brienne: Nine times out of ten she prefers soft sex. She will rarely like rough sex, if ever, and will only do it once or twice for her partner on special occasions if they really like it. She undermines her own strength many times and ends up hurting them involuntarily. So she likes it soft when giving and receiving.

Larissa: Depends. Really likes rougher sex if she is bottoming.

Lucifer: Yes. 

Phasma: Rough when giving (which is always). And whichever when receiving (which is never, unless she has a partner, then it’s once a year).

Miranda: Soft when giving. Depends when receiving.

Do they have any kinks/fetishes?

Brienne: Praise kink with light degradation.

Larissa: Loves relinquishing control. Praise kink with light degradation.

Lucifer: The Wing Thing™ 

Phasma: Degradation to the max! Heavy degradation, light praise, biting, edging, voyeurist & exhibitionist (in her quarters with her watching, or her having someone watch her, always willing partners. Power play, and such). BDSM (blindfolds, face slapping, flogging/whipping, gagging, handcuffs, physical restraints), anything that would give her extreme power and domination (discipline, forced orgasm, orgasm control, orgasm denial, having a sex slave (if she’s not in a relationship)), spit kink, sadism (adding this again to accentuate). Most of these are dialed down/removed if she has a romantic partner.

Miranda: Loves overstimulation and loads of foreplay. Praise kink. 

Weirdest place they’ve had sex?

Brienne: Carriage in olden times. Car in modern times. However, because of her height, it gets uncomfortable quickly. And it only happened once because of an extreme sex emergency.

Larissa: School library in college. She and a friend were working on a school project and before she knew it, they were making out and they did ‘hand stuff’ in the educational theory section.

Lucifer: Hell’s gardens

Phasma: Control room.

Miranda: Supply closet at work after hours. A visiting detective seduced her and introduced her to the joys of lesbianism. She never slept with a man again after that.

Favorite sex position?

Brienne: Probably missionary. She really wants to see the face of the person she is pleasuring. (She’s lame like that /aff). Plus, missionary with the strap sometimes means bouncing boobies which we know Brienne loves.

Larissa: Bent over her desk or tied to her bed. For the most part, as long as she is being dominated, Larissa loves it.

Lucifer: Receiving/giving oral on their throne. They live the symbolism and power.

Phasma: Bending someone over something and pounding them from behind. Her helmet is off with the order ‘Don’t look behind you.’ Power play.

Miranda: Her partner between her legs with their back against her chest while she plays with their pussy

Do they like to be dominant or submissive?

Brienne: Sub.

Larissa: Sub.

Lucifer: Sub.

Phasma: Dom.

Miranda: Sub. (Will switch for her partner)

Sex on the bed, couch, or the floor?

Brienne: Bed. Sometimes the couch for over-the-clothes stuff, but no sex.

Larissa: Bed.

Lucifer: Bed.

Phasma: Doesn’t care.

Miranda: Couch. She is a fan of over-the-clothes grinding and groping and the couch is such a perfect place for that.

Have they ever had sex in a public place?

Brienne: It’s happened in the case of what she calls “sexual emergencies where it could not be postponed or held off.”

Larissa: Yes, when she was younger.

Lucifer: Yes, from time to time.

Phasma: Obviously. She is very careful about finding somewhere she is sure is rarely visited/can be locked/will be free. She has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Miranda: Yes, regardless of knowing about the ‘indecent exposure’ charges she could get.

Would they ever have sex in a public place?

Brienne: If she could avoid it, she would. She feels the most comfortable behind closed doors in a private place (her home, her partner’s home, or a hotel room). If public sex is to be accepted by her, it has to be somewhere where she can ensure privacy, like a door with a lock or a place that no one can look into.

Larissa: It’s not a preference as she ages.

Lucifer: If their partner would like, then of course.

Phasma: Of course.

Miranda: Duh. Yes.

Have they ever been caught masturbating?

Brienne: No. She learns about masturbating pretty late in her life (if ever) and only does it when she is sure no one is awake. She also trusts people to knock, and she’s good at staying quiet.

Larissa: Once during her time at Nevermore by her roommate. That night ended happily for both of them.

Lucifer: Not unless they want to be caught.

Phasma: No.

Miranda: No, but she wouldn’t be opposed to getting caught by her partner if it would lead to them joining her in bed.