#priest! barba x reader

[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.

[alwaysachorusgirl]

🔥🔥🔥🔥

#12 “I can’t believer you’re this innocent” Barba please

Warnings: Priest!Barba au. Hint at smut, but not explicit. Still; MINORS DNI!

You looked up at Rafael with those big doe eyes which made his urge to kiss you even bigger. Yet he refrained from it.

“I was raised in the Catholic Church sir. I must abstain from the temptation of the devil.”

He huffed a laugh at that, caressing your cheek lightly. “Well. Not surprised you’re Catholic. But cariño you’re, you’re allowed to have some fun.

You looked up at him again, shocked when he smirked down at you.

���Father Barba—how can you speak like this when you too are part of the faith?”

He huffed a little, not quite knowing what to say. You might be too innocent for the things he wanted to do to you.

“Because, little lamb, I’ve read and studied the scripture, I know what can and can’t be enjoyed.” He moved closer but not too close as to give you no way out.

“And what can be enjoyed then?” You look up at him again with curious eyes. Almost like you’d shed a layer of innocence.

Rafael dared to let his hand moves some hair away from your face, then cup your cheek. And to his surprise you leant into his touch.

“You’re allowed to take care of your needs and wants—“

“Even if it’s needs and wants for someone I can’t have?”

He looked at you a little surprised. Who could this person be? Had he read into it all wrong?

“Father Barba, I am ashamed to say this, I’ve had impure thoughts, about you. That’s why I’m here today. I need to repent from my sins. I need to know I am still worthy in the eyes of the Lord.”

Rafael’s mind short circuit when you told him he was the one you desired. Both hands on your face now he pulled you closer. “You’re worthy, little lamb.” He whispered and you leant up, lips hovering in front of his.

It was him closing the gap between you two, dominating the kiss and letting his hands wander over your body. All you could do was hang on with your arms around his neck, whimpering against his lips.

“Tell me what it is you want, what is it you need?”

“I need you father Barba. All of you, please.”

~~~

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[brazilian-vampyra]

♡♱ 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖂𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 (𝖕𝖙-𝖇𝖗) ｡ﾟ ୨୧

ೀ sinopse: pensou que o único lugar possível para se esconder do mal seria no convento, mas tudo muda quando o padre adam driver chega.

ೀ avisos: contém palavras de baixo calão, sexo explícito, sexo sem camisinha, creampie, perda de virgindade, masturbação, sexo oral, exibicionismo, dirty talk, size kink, orgasmo múltiplo, hipersensibilidade, praise kink, age gap, priest!adam x fem!nun! reader.

ೀ nota: esse capítulo aqui não tem o intuito de ofender ninguém ou ofender o catolicismo, caso não se sinta confortável, não leia.

𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂̧𝐎𝐔 quando você completou 18 anos. Com a chegada da maioridade vieram as responsabilidades, e também vieram séries de pesadelos e sensações bizarras, como se alguém — ou algo — te perseguisse.

Sentia um arrepio constante na espinha, como se estivesse sendo observada por olhos invisíveis em cada esquina escura, ou em cada canto de seu quarto. A sensação de ser seguida por algo sinistro a perseguia implacavelmente, como uma sombra indesejada que se recusava a desaparecer e, a cada passo que dava, dia após dia que seguia, parecia apenas intensificar a sensação de que algo terrível a seguia, espreitando nas sombras.

Seus sentidos ficavam em alerta máximo, captando cada som sutil, cada movimento furtivo ao seu redor. O medo se transformou em uma constante companhia, enrolando-se em torno de ti como uma névoa gélida, impedindo-a de relaxar ou encontrar paz. Mesmo em momentos de aparente calma, a presença opressiva do desconhecido a assombrava, deixando-a à mercê de um terror crescente e incontrolável.

Ouvia sussurros chamando-a, sentia mãos quentes tocando seus ombros, ou algo deitado em seu lado no colchão.

Era tudo tão estranho e bizarro, que decidiu se juntar à um convento e se tornar freira. Quem sabe dentro da igreja não conseguisse a paz que tanto almejava? Quem sabe assim, aquela sombra não iria parar de se atrelar à sua?

Aquela tinha sido a sua melhor escolha.

Na penumbra da igreja, os fiéis se reuniam em prece, mergulhados na serenidade do local sagrado. Ajoelhou-se silenciosamente no banco de madeira polida, seus olhos erguidos para o altar iluminado pelas velas enquanto o som suave dos cânticos preenchia o espaço enquanto, mergulhava em suas reflexões.

De repente, um murmúrio percorreu a congregação quando o padre se aproximou do púlpito. Seus passos reverberaram pelo chão de pedra enquanto ele se aproximava, e ergueu o olhar para observá-lo. Seu coração deu um salto quando seus olhos encontraram os do novo padre. Alto e imponente, ele emanava uma aura de tranquilidade e dominância enquanto se dirigia à frente da igreja.

Possuía traços marcantes, com cabelos escuros e uma expressão serena que parecia irradiar sabedoria e compaixão. Seus olhos profundos refletiam a luz das velas, lançando sombras dançantes em seu rosto angular, junto à barba e o bigode que emolduravam. Sentiu um arrepio percorrer sua espinha ao encontrá-lo, uma sensação estranha e inexplicável que a fez desviar o olhar rapidamente.

— Queridos... — o padre Joseph disse, subindo ao altar. — Esse é o padre Adam, vindo diretamente do Vaticano. Ele assumirá meu cargo a partir da próxima semana.

O padre mais alto sorriu sem mostrar os dentes e levou uma mão ao peito, como se estivesse se sentindo lisonjeado por ter tal honra.

Enquanto os padres começavam sua homilia, você lutava para manter o foco nas palavras, mas sua mente inquieta voltava para o estranho magnetismo que emanava do padre Adam. Por mais belo e carismático que ele fosse, algo em seu olhar parecia esconder segredos sombrios, despertando uma sensação de inquietude que não conseguia ignorar.

[...]

Depois daquela semana, o padre Joseph foi embora. Tudo estava nas mãos do padre de longos cabelos escuros e alta estatura.

De repente, a sensação de pânico voltou — moderadamente —, aquela sensação de que havia algo a seguindo tinha voltado. Mas, faz dois anos que isso tinha sumido? Porque Deus decidiu te castigar novamente de tal maneira?

Deveria pagar algum pecado? Tinha atirado pedras à cruz de Cristo?

Não via outra opção a não ser se afundar em orações, e orar tudo o que sabia. As sensações se aquietavam quando você estava rezando, e perdeu as contas de quantas vezes seus joelhos ficaram doendo após ficar horas e horas sussurrando no altar. O crucifixo branco que ficava enrolado em sua mão já estava começando a ficar num tom mais encardido de tanto contato que tinha com suas digitais.

Agora mesmo, estava ajoelhada de frente à grande cruz de madeira, com o altar iluminado por mais de cem velas, enquanto você mantinha seus olhos fechados e rezava baixinho a oração "Glória a Deus nas alturas".

De repente, sentiu uma brisa fria percorrer a igreja quente e escura, batendo em seus ombros e quando olhou para o lado, lá estava o padre Adam. Como ele entrou sem fazer nenhum barulho? Parecia que seus pés eram leves como uma pluma, quase como se ele tivesse se materializado.

— Não quis interromper suas preces, filha.

— Não interrompeu, eu já tinha acabado, padre.

— Há algo te perturbando, querida... — o tom de voz dele era suave, quase furtivo.

— Como sabe?

— Posso ver no seu olhar.

Virou-se para ele, encarando aquele par de olhos castanhos. Havia algo muito estranho, apesar de serem brutalmente sensuais e cativantes, também eram densos. Tão profundos quanto mil abismos.

— Não sei o motivo... — ele levou uma mão até seu ombro, apertando levemente.

Seu corpo estremeceu levemente. Aquilo era muito similar à uma carícia, e não conseguia se lembrar da última vez que recebeu algum carinho de um homem.

Sentiu-se mal e se culpou instantaneamente. Estava gostando de ter o toque do padre Adam? Estava perecendo ao prazer da carne? Mas o que era aquilo? O que estava acontecendo com você naquela semana?

Não se conhecia.

— Mas... — ele prosseguiu. — Posso rezar por você, se me permitir.

— Agradeço imensamente.

O homem mais alto começou a rezar em latim. Apesar de você não falar esse idioma fluentemente, conhecia muitas palavras e foi capaz de identificar.

Ele estava rezando "Glória a Deus nas alturas", mas em seu idioma primário. Era a mesma oração que você estava fazendo antes. Ele estava ali há muito tempo? Escondido nas sombras escutando?

“Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.

Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te, gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam, Domine Deus, Rex caelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens.

Domine Fili unigenite Jesu Christe, Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram.

Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.

Quoniam tu solus sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus altissimus, Jesus Christe, cum sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris.

Amen.”

Um calafrio percorreu sua espinha ao escutar o "amém" dito dessa maneira mais forte, e você viu as chamas das velas no altar dançarem suavemente, por mais que todas as janelas e portas estivessem fechadas.

— Obrigada, padre.

Se levantou dos degraus. Já estava tarde, seu corpo clamava por descanso.

— Por nada — ele respondeu.

E, quando você ia sair, ele segurou sua mão e juntou às dele, fazendo-a praticamente desaparecer. Aquela mão pálida, grade, forte e cheia de veias aparentes estava sobre as suas. Elas eram quentes e macias, tão boas de serem sentidas que pareciam algo vindo de um paraíso artificial.

— E, não se esqueça de rezar antes de dormir.

Ele a olhou profundamente mais uma vez, fazendo você sentir sua garganta fechada. Responder era praticamente impossível agora, pois um nó havia se formado em suas cordas vocais. O que era aquilo, nervoso?

Assentiu com a cabeça e soltou as mãos dele, indo até o convento, para afundar a cabeça em seu travesseiro e desfrutar do sono dos justos. Dormiu com muito custo naquela noite, após ter rezado infinitas "Ave Maria".

[...]

O dia amanheceu sob um véu de sombras, onde nuvens pesadas pairavam no céu, obscurecendo a luz do sol e lançando o mundo numa penumbra sepulcral. O ar estava impregnado de uma sensação de inquietação, como se o próprio vento sussurrasse segredos sombrios que arrepiavam a sua espinha a todo instante, fazendo seus pelos se arrepiarem. No convento, o silêncio pairava como um véu de morte, envolvendo os corredores vazios em uma atmosfera de expectativa tensa, era como se algo estivesse prestes a acontecer.

Cada passo seu ecoava como um eco solene, reverberando nas paredes de pedra como um presságio fúnebre.

Os sinos da capela repicavam em uma cadência sombria, anunciando um dia que se desenrolava. Haviam corvos, que voavam em círculos sobre o telhado do local e suas vozes roucas cortavam o ar.

Cada sombra parecia se contorcer e se esticar, alimentando seu medo. Medo daquela sensação de que havia algo atrelado ao seu corpo... algo que não é desse mundo.

O dia se desenrolava como um capítulo perdido de um conto macabro, te deixando mais apreensiva a cada instante. Na parte da tarde, bem próximo às quatro horas, precisou ir ao monastério para pegar mais alguma velas que necessitavam ser repostas no altar da capela. Sob a luz pálida daquele dia extremamente não-expressivo, sua figura tímida deslizava pelos corredores sombrios da construção. Sentia seu corpo pesado enquanto seus sapatos tocavam no chão frio de pedra.

O ar estava impregnado com um silêncio pesado, sendo apenas interrompido pelos murmúrios dos corvos, que pairavam para lá e para cá, envolvendo-o numa atmosfera pavorosa. As sombras dançavam ao seu redor, contorcendo-se como espectros famintos que aguardavam nas dobras da escuridão.

A luz fraca das velas iluminava fracamente o espaço, lançando sombras distorcidas nas paredes antigas e nos móveis empoeirados.

Com passos cautelosos, você se aproximou de uma porta entreaberta, seus sentidos aguçados alertas para qualquer sinal de perigo iminente. Seu corpo tremia ligeiramente, uma mistura de medo e curiosidade a impulsionando adiante, mesmo quando a voz interior sussurrava advertências de perigo.

Se deparou com uma cena que ficaria em suas memórias para sempre. O cômodo era escuro, e várias velas estavam dispostas em cima da mobília velha. Mas, o que mais te impactou nessa cena foi o padre Adam — que estava sentado numa cadeira, no meio do cômodo escuro.

A cabeça estava jogada para trás, enquanto ele estava se tocando sem pudor algum. A mão grande e forte — que havia segurado a sua ontem — estava deslizando para cima e para baixo em seu membro, que estava melado pelo pré-gozo, escorrendo da glande rosada. A mão dele era bem grande, e mesmo assim, o pau ainda estava bem visível, com aquelas veias pulsantes e bem distribuídas por toda a extensão.

O seu corpo estava quase entrando em combustão, de tão quente que estava se sentindo agora. Seu coração estava martelando descompassado em seu peito enquanto você notava como o pomo de Adão dele subia e descia a cada momento em que ele respirava de um jeito mais ofegante. O moreno gemia de forma profana enquanto se satisfazia, e isso havia despertado algo em você.

Suas bochechas estavam coradas, e sua mão estava contra a própria boca, pois tinha medo de acabar deixando escapar algum som que não deveria. Havia um calor crescente no meio de suas pernas, um desejo estranho e uma inquietação em seu baixo ventre. O que era aquilo?

Por que ver um homem se rendendo ao prazer da carne estava te deixando assim? Você deveria se sentir envergonhada, deveria se sentir mal por isso, mas estava ficando excitada?

Seus olhos estavam vidrados naquela cena erótica, e você apertou ainda mais a mão contra sua boca quando o ouviu gemer mais alto e atingir o ápice, fazendo o conteúdo branco e viscoso escorrer pela extensão do próprio membro.

Saiu dali o mais rápido possível e desceu às escadas do monastério tentando controlar sua respiração, enquanto ainda sentia seu rosto queimar — só não queimava tanto quanto a inquietação no meio de suas pernas. Tentou tomar um bom copo de água para ver se acalmava seus nervos e controlar seus batimentos cardíacos, mas parecia que aquilo iria ficar na sua cabeça por um tempo; um bom tempo.

Como iria olhar para o padre agora? Como iria olhar para ele sem lembrar dos atos profanos que ele estava praticando num quarto escuro na construção?

Eram muitas perguntas e nenhuma resposta. O jeito era deixar que o próprio universo tomasse seu rumo.

[...]

A noite era tempestuosa, o som da chuva batendo impiedosamente contra as janelas era como uma sinfonia de caos e desassossego; raios cortavam o céu escuro, lançando breves lampejos de luz que iluminavam o seu quarto, revelando os contornos sombrios dos móveis e das sombras que dançavam nas paredes.

Olhava para o enorme espelho que havia perto da janela, pensando em como iria conseguir pegar no sono. Já havia rezado tudo o que sabia, e mesmo assim, a imagem do padre Adam dando prazer a si mesmo não saía da sua cabeça, assim como aquele fogo que ardia em seu íntimo ao vê-lo em tal situação.

O estrondo dos trovões ecoava pelo ar, como uma voz selvagem que rugia na escuridão, sacudindo os alicerces do convento com sua fúria incontrolável. O vento soprava forte, uivando como uma criatura faminta que clamava por entrada, enquanto as árvores fora curvavam-se em submissão ao seu poder avassalador.

Estava deitada em sua cama, os lençóis emaranhados ao redor de seu corpo como correntes que a mantinham prisioneira de seus próprios pensamentos impuros. Seu coração batia descompassado em seu peito, ecoando o ritmo frenético da tempestade lá fora, enquanto lutava em vão para encontrar paz em meio ao caos. Olhava para o teto de madeira, observando os padrões que eram desenhados no próprio material.

Cerrava os olhos com força, desejando desesperadamente que a tempestade passasse e trouxesse consigo a tranquilidade tão esperada. Sua mente atormentada por pensamentos impuros não iria te deixar em paz, nada iria.

Seu quarto era levemente iluminado pela luz branca e fraca de um poste que ficava ali em frente. Mas, essa luz parecia mais escura hoje.

De repente, ouviu batidas na porta.

Olhou para o relógio, que ficava em cima da mesinha de cabeceira. Faltavam cinco minutos para a meia-noite. Quem seria essa hora? Outra freira?

Levantou-se, usando sua camisola branca e fina e foi até a porta a passos relaxados, imaginando quem seria e o que queria. Ao abrir, se deparou com a última pessoa que esperava: padre Adam.

Ele estava em pé, e quase era do tamanho da porta. Estava sem suas roupas habituais, vestindo uma calça preta e uma camisa branca fina.

— P-Padre... — suspirou.

— Olá, querida. Problemas para dormir?

— S-Sim... estou tentando há algumas horas, mas meu corpo se recusa a descansar.

— Compartilho da mesma experiência.

Um silêncio mórbido pairou entre vocês dois, então você limpou a garganta brevemente e o olhou. Ele era tão grande comparado a você.

— Bom, hm... posso saber o por que de estar aqui...? Digo, essas horas...

Um sorriso praticamente sacana se instalou nos lábios sensuais do mais velho.

— Vim te perguntar se você gostou do que viu.

Seu corpo estremeceu no mesmo instante, e seu coração pareceu parar por alguns segundos, enquanto sua respiração ficava mais pesada. Arregalou os olhos e suas bochechas ficaram coradas de vergonha e desonra.

— E-E-Eu... eu n-não sei d-do que o senhor está f-falando...!

— Sabe sim, você é bem inteligente — levou uma mão até seu rosto, segurando seu maxilar e mantendo o contato visual. — Eu sei que você estava espiando. Que garotinha mais impura, não?

— D-Desculpa, não foi a intenção...

— Não me importo que você tenha olhado, só me entristece que não tenha se juntado.

— E-Eu não tenho como fazer o que o senhor fez... não tenho o que tem.

Uma risada rouca saiu dos lábios dele bem baixinho.

— Não mesmo... — a mão dele desceu por seu pescoço, e em seguida para seus seios, apertando levemente o esquerdo. — Deixa eu te contar um segredo... — ele se abaixou e se inclinou para frente, colando os lábios ao seu ouvido, enquanto a mão descia e adentrava sua camisola, chegando perigosamente em sua virilha, onde ele deslizou os dedos grossos por cima.

Seu corpo se estremeceu, e um gemido tímido saiu de seus lábios quando sentiu ele estimular levemente aquele ponto sensível, e pôde ouvi-lo sussurrar:

— Você tem algo muito melhor...

Os lábios dele desceram para seu pescoço, depositando beijos ardentes em sua pele, e te fazendo automaticamente abraçar os ombros largos dele. Estavam praticamente no corredor, entre a porta e o quarto.

— P-Padre... — tentou protestar. Mas aquilo saiu mais como uma súplica, do que um verdadeiro protesto.

— Adam.

Ele corrigiu, num tom ríspido.

— Mas que tipo de padre é você? — perguntou, sentindo o calor subir por suas pernas novamente, se concentrando em seu íntimo. — Que comete heresias...

Ele se afastou um pouco de você e te olhou nos olhos. Aquele olhar tão profundo e marcante, não era vazio e suas íris tomaram uma coloração vermelha, que brilhava como dois pontos na mais completa escuridão.

— V-Você não é um padre... você é... — ficou sem palavras.

— Sim, gracinha. Eu sou o seu demônio.

— Meu? — se perguntou internamente qual pecado teria cometido para merecer tal punição.

— Eu fui feito pra você. E, eu já tinha tentado me aproximar antes, mas você decidiu vir para o convento — ele reclamou. — Não posso te julgar, no fim, foi divertido.

— C-Como conseguiu entrar no convento? Como conseguiu se tornar padre? Pegar em cruzes, rezar...

— Eu tenho muita força de vontade, e deu um trabalhinho, sim. Mas, olha só como estamos... — ele se aproximou de seu rosto e deixou um selar demorado no canto de sua boca. — Valeu a pena.

A mão dele foi até dentro da sua calcinha, adentrando o tecido macio e permitindo que as digitais finalmente tocassem seu sexo nu. Um gemido de surpresa deixou seus lábios quando os dedos rudes do mais alto deslizaram um pouco mais embaixo, molhando-se com sua excitação.

Ele levou a mão até a própria boca, chupando os dedos vorazmente, com os olhos fechados. O moreno praticamente rosnou.

— Que delícia... — conseguiu dizer aquilo num tom que lhe deixava com as pernas bambas. — Preciso de mais.

— Ei, o que-.

Não teve tempo de protestar, ele segurou seu corpo como se você fosse tão leve quanto uma pluma, te agarrando, tirando seus pés do chão e entrando no quarto. Sua mente estava meio nublada, não conseguia pensar em nada agora que não fosse aquele homem; aquele demônio.

— Espera, e-eu nunca...

— Oh, eu sei... — ele levou o rosto até a curva de seu pescoço, passando o bigode por sua pele sensível. — Sinto o cheiro da sua pureza à quilômetros...

Os lábios dele foram até os seus. Eram quentes, macios e deliciosamente tentadores, só não era ainda melhor do que sentir a língua dele deslizando sobre a sua. Estava nos braços de Adam enquanto ele saboreava seus lábios e deslizava as mãos grandes por seu corpo, compartilhando seu calor com o dele. Nunca imaginou que fosse tão bom beijar um homem, mas estava sendo muito melhor do que nos seus sonhos.

Sentiu-se na cama, ficando de frente para ele enquanto o mesmo retirava a camisa e jogava em algum canto do cômodo. O peito pálido e com alguns pelos estava exposto, como seus braços fortes. Mas que belos músculos, aquele demônio tinha uma boa anatomia ou ele só tinha se ajustado à uma forma que sabia que iria lhe causar tesão?

Havia um crucifixo de prata ao redor do pescoço dele, com uma cruz detalhada e com alguns pedaços de uma jóia vermelha, supôs que fosse um belíssimo rubi.

Num movimento rápido, ele a puxou para o colo dele, fazendo você se sentar e sentir a ereção crescente que estava coberta pelo tecido escuro da calça. Seu rosto estava corado e sua respiração estava pesada, ele agora lhe dava selinhos lentos, que causavam estalos baixos.

— Seu coração está batendo tão rápido...

Aquele órgão pulsava em seu peito como as asas de um beija-flor.

Uma mão dele foi até seus ombros, abaixando as alças delicadas da camisola, fazendo-a cair levemente por seu peito, revelando seus seios que estava com os mamilos enrijecidos. Ele riu baixinho, um sorriso cafajeste que te deixou completamente excitada.

A outra mão foi até suas costas, obtendo um apoio para te inclinar levemente para trás, deixando seu peito mais visível enquanto ele praticamente salivava ao prestar atenção em sua pele, e perceber como você se arrepiava.

— Adam... — iria protestar sobre algo.

— Não se preocupe, eu sou forte o suficiente.

Assim, ele abaixou a cabeça, levando a boca até seus mamilos sensíveis, fazendo um gemido tímido escapar por seus lábios enquanto ele deslizava a língua descaradamente por sua pele macia. Aquela era uma sensação indescritível, pois nem mesmo em seus sonhos mais promíscuos foi capaz de imaginar que essa seria a sensação de ter a boca de um homem em seu corpo.

A mão livre do demônio foi até seu outro seio, praticamente o cobrindo por inteiro com aquela mão enorme, e apertando de um jeito que mais parecia massagear. Adam mantinha os olhos fechados, desfrutando daquele corpo perfeito que ele almejava há meses, e você estava gemendo baixinho, timidamente, se entregando pouco a pouco.

O moreno te deitou na cama em seguida, mantendo sua cabeça no travesseiro enquanto aproveitava para terminar de tirar a camisola que ainda te vestia, e ele aproveitou para puxar a calcinha junto. Agora você estava completamente exposta e sentia-se ainda mais envergonhada por ver como ele estava prestando atenção a cada mínimo detalhe em você. Desde quantos sinais de nascença estavam visíveis até suas bochechas coradas.

Cruzou as pernas por impulso.

— Não, não, minha querida... — ele disse num tom de voz suave. — Eu estava admirando esse paraíso que você tem entre as pernas, e você as fecha?

— Isso é um pouco vergonhoso...

O mais velho se deitou de bruços, distribuindo alguns beijinhos por sua coxa, fazendo você sentir aquela mesma sensação de quando o viu se tocando no monastério horas mais cedo. Aquele calor estava subindo por seu ventre novamente.

— Quando eu estiver fazendo você revirar os olhos, nem vai lembrar da vergonha... — os beijinhos foram subindo mais um pouco. — Agora abre essas pernas pra mim...

Ainda relutante, você abriu as pernas vagarosamente.

— Boa garota.

Ele segurou suas coxas na parte exterior, perto de sua bunda, e pôde posicionar melhor o rosto. Foi beijando a parte interior, praticamente queimando a pele sensível com aqueles beijos ardentes que pareciam te consumir como labaredas consomem a estrutura de uma construção durante um incêndio.

Os lábios dele chegaram perigosamente perto de sua virilha, antes de ele ir até a parte que tanto almejava: sua buceta.

Estava encharcada, tanto que sua excitação escorria. Ele sorriu maliciosamente ao notar e te abocanhou sem pudor algum. Um gemido de surpresa escapou por seus lábios, e você imediatamente cobriu sua boca com uma mão enquanto fechava os olhos.

Sentiu ele sorrir e grunhir contra sua buceta.

— Não precisa se conter tanto... as paredes do convento não são tão finas quanto parecem.

E voltou a te chupar novamente. Aquela era uma sensação tão celestial que nem parecia que algo profano estava sendo feito em cima daquela cama pois nunca, em todos esses anos, poderia imaginar que a sensação de ter a boca quente de um homem explorando seu sexo encharcado fosse tão perfeita assim, ainda mais quando o nariz dele estava sendo esfregado contra seu clitóris.

Pensou em como teria que rezar depois disso e pedir muito perdão por estar fazendo algo tão explícito e erótico. Finalmente havia se rendido aos prazeres da carne, ainda mais com um demônio. Mas, seus pensamentos rapidamente eram deixados em segundo plano quando sentia a boca quente dele indo até seu clitóris. Bem que ele disse que quando você estivesse revirando os olhos, não iria pensar em vergonha alguma.

— Porra... — a voz grave dele ecoou entre vocês. — Você é tão doce...

— Eu sou? — questionou timidamente, olhando para baixo e vendo como ele estava focado em continuar te chupando.

— Uhum... — ele murmurou, não perdendo o foco e jogando uma de suas pernas por cima do ombro largo enquanto apertava com uma mão.

Ele estava praticamente te fodendo com a língua, fazendo-a ver estrelas e praticamente alcançar sua utopia. Você levou uma mão até os cabelos escuros e macios dele, apertando sem nem se dar conta do que estava fazendo enquanto gemia.

O mais velho se concentrava agora em seu clitóris, fazendo movimentos em "oito" com a língua naquele ponto sensível. Aquilo te fez estremecer e praticamente lacrimejar de tanto prazer que estava sentindo. A sensação em seu baixo ventre voltou, mas dessa vez, muito mais forte que antes, como se houvesse um nó que estivesse prestes a se romper.

— A-Adam, por favor, eu... eu... — suplicou.

— Deixa vir que eu te seguro, querida — ele praticamente rosnou contra seu clitóris.

Não demorou muito para que tivesse seu primeiro orgasmo, o primeiro orgasmo de sua vida. Foi uma sensação tão intensa, que nem mesmo tinha palavras para descrever o quão incrível aquela experiência havia sido. Seu coração palpitava no peito, suas pernas tremiam e seus olhos estavam se revirando enquanto você apertava aqueles cabelos macios e escuros.

Ele lambeu sua intimidade mais um pouco, antes de se distanciar, com os lábios melados.

— Você tem um gosto melhor do que eu tinha imaginado... — ele admitiu, se sentando na cama.

A ereção já estava incomodando, aquelas calças estavam apertando mais que o normal. Mas, ele teria o alívio que almejava em breve, ainda não tinha terminado o que queria fazer antes de te penetrar.

O mais velho te fez sentar na cama, levemente inclinada para trás. Sentia seu corpo quente, o sangue fluía por suas veias rapidamente. Uma mão dele foi até sua intimidade, deslizando os dedos grossos por sua excitação gotejante, melando-os.

— Está sensível... — disse baixinho.

— Ah, querida... essa é a melhor parte.

Sentiu um dedo dele deslizar para seu interior apertado, provavelmente o dedo médio.

Arfou, olhando naqueles olhos profundos e cheios de desejo enquanto ele movia a mão devagar. Seu interior se contraia, devido a sensibilidade do orgasmo recente, mas mesmo assim era uma boa sensação.

— Vamos ver se você aguenta mais um...

E, assim, ele deslizou o dedo anelar, te fazendo gemer baixinho mais uma vez.

— Ótimo... ótimo... — te reconfortou.

Os dedos dele faziam esse movimento de vai e vem, curvados levemente para cima, te deixando cada segundo mais sensível. Era uma sensação estranha, ao mesmo tempo que era levemente dolorida, era extremamente bem-vinda e satisfatória. Fazia isso lentamente, mas não chegava a ser algo tortuoso.

— Está gostando disso? — ele questiona, baixinho, analisando seu rosto.

Você murmura algo de forma afirmativa, e ele segura seu queixo, fazendo-a olhar para seu rosto.

— Quero palavras, não murmúrios.

— Sim...

Ele começou a mover os dedos um pouco mais rápido, fazendo-a se contorcer levemente. Suas pernas ainda estavam um pouco trêmulas, e você fechou os olhos, inclinando levemente a cabeça para trás enquanto se entregava a mais uma sensação deliciosamente tentadora e excitante.

— Quando você estiver necessitada, e eu não estiver por perto... é isso que você vai fazer... — ele dizia aquilo num tom tão erótico, que parecia te levar para outra dimensão. — Você vai fazer isso com a sua mão, ouviu bem?

O moreno desceu a mão por seu queixo, até chegar em seu pescoço, onde ele não a enforcou, mas teve um certo apoio para poder olhar melhor para seu rosto. Suas bochechas ainda estavam coradas e seus lábios estavam entreabertos.

— Aprenda direitinho, hm? Na próxima vez você vai se tocar, e eu vou assistir...

Ele aumentou um pouco o ritmo dos dedos, movendo a mão mais rápido, fazendo com que a palma batesse contra seu clitóris e os dedos fizessem o som molhado reverberar entre vocês dois, te deixando ansiosa para sentir aquilo de novo.

— Eu tô... eu tô... — tentava falar, mas não conseguia.

A antecipação do ápice já fazia suas palavras tropeçarem umas nas outras.

— Mantenha os olhos abertos, querida — ele mantinha o ritmo dos estímulos. — Quero que olhe nos meus olhos enquanto goza nos meus dedos.

Aqueles olhos castanhos estavam fixos aos seus, e mesmo com a baixa iluminação que invadia o quarto, você conseguia prestar atenção em como aquelas íris escuras estavam ainda mais obscurecidas pelo desejo crescente que ardia por você. Não estava conseguindo se controlar, aquela sensação vinha com tudo mais uma vez, num desespero crescente que subia por seu ventre.

Ele continuava segurando seu pescoço, um pouco perto de sua nuca, mantendo seu rosto erguido e finalmente se deliciando com a visão de vê-la alcançar seu ápice. Seus quadris tremeram, um gemido sôfrego deixou sua garganta, e você sentiu como havia molhado os dedos dele, e como seu interior estava se contraindo.

O segundo ápice foi tão incrível quanto o primeiro.

— Muito bem, meu amor. Muito bem...

Ele retirou os dedos de seu interior e levou até a própria boca, chupando-os como havia feito mais cedo.

Estava ainda mais molhada, escorrendo ainda mais e molhando o lençol da cama. O demônio alto e forte se levantou, ficando de pé no chão de pedra e se livrando daquelas calças que estavam apertando a enorme ereção dele. Quando ele abaixou a calça, você não pôde deixar de se surpreender com o tamanho de seu membro.

Já havia o visto, mas agora que a mão dele não estava no mesmo, parecia ser maior. Só de lembrar daquela cena erótica no monastério, aquela sensação subia por seu ventre novamente. Ele estava pulsando, com a glande rosada molhada de pré-gozo, e ele pulsava.

— Eu sei que é grande... — ele se deitou sobre você, tomando seus lábios gentilmente, como se fosse uma forma de te acalmar. — Mas não se preocupe, vai caber.

Os lábios dele foram até os seus gentilmente, deslizando a língua pela sua, enquanto os lábios dele pareciam massagear os seus. Estalos baixos daquele beijo estavam ecoando entre vocês, e você estava tão perdida nessa sensação que mal se importava com o mundo ao redor.

As mãos grandes dele foram até seus braços, segurando seus pulsos com firmeza e deixando-os pressionados contra os lençóis. Sentiu ele te penetrar devagar, indo com calma e sutilmente, para que não acabasse te machucando.

Você gemeu contra os lábios dele, e ele separou o beijo, fazendo com que um filete de saliva acabasse pendendo entre vocês dois, que logo se desfez. Sentia centímetro por centímetro, e fazia uma pequena pressão no início, mas ele foi devagar e com calma até penetrar tudo.

— Puta merda... — ele gemeu.

— Caralho... — você gemeu baixinho.

O fato de estar se entregando assim, e agora falando um palavrão já havia deixado bem claro como aquele demônio havia conseguido corromper você.

— Viu? Eu te disse que ia caber... — ele a tranquilizou, começando a mover os quadris devagar. — Nossos corpos foram feitos um para o outro, querida.

Ele não estava mais com peito colado ao seu, mas estava movendo os quadris num ritmo lento e altamente erótico que te fazia perder o juízo, enquanto ele segurava seus pulsos com aquelas mãos grandes e olhava em seus olhos. Não sabia dizer se era só impressão, mas ele ficou ainda mais gostoso em cima de você, e imaginou como aquelas costas largas e aquele corpo alto cobriam o seu corpo pequeno perfeitamente.

Os gemidos e grunhidos profanos do demônio estavam adentrando em sua mente, e logo mais iriam se tornar seu som favorito, era melhor do que ouvir os pássaros cantando na aurora. O pau dele esticava seu interior deliciosamente, fazendo-a gemer sem pudor, olhando nos olhos escuros dele se sentindo indefesa e entregue.

Estava nas garras do demônio.

A cada trovão que iluminava o céu noturno, você podia prestar atenção nos músculos fortes do moreno, e sentir-se feliz por ter a chance de se deleitar com isso. Já Adam, estava mais do que feliz por tê-la embaixo dele, e ele sabia que deveria tomar cuidado com seu corpo, pois às vezes não tinha controle da própria força.

— Sabe por quantas e quantas noites eu ansiava em te tornar minha? — por Deus, aquele homem sabia como fazer seu mundo virar de cabeça para baixo. — Agora olha só...

— P-Por que não tira esse crucifixo? — questionou timidamente, prestando atenção em como o pingente se movia a cada movimento de vai e vem que Adam fazia.

— Ele é um amuleto de proteção. Me impede de usar 100% do meu poder.

— Por que não usa?

Uma risada lascívia escapou dos lábios dele ao ouvir seu questionamento.

— Porque eu posso acabar te machucando, e essa é a última coisa que eu quero.

— P-Podemos tentar sem o crucifixo? — não estava se reconhecendo agora, ainda mais fazendo uma sugestão tão promíscua.

Os olhos dele brilharam naquele tom carmesim novamente.

— Ah, querida... eu não poderia estar mais feliz em ser seu.

Ele saiu de dentro de você, se sentou na cama e retirou o crucifixo. Aquele sorriso malicioso estava no rosto dele, sentia que algo muito bom estava por vir e que não iria se arrepender de ter feito essa proposta.

— Fica de quatro.

Ordenou, e você ficou com um pouco de dificuldade, mas conseguiu. Ele xingou baixinho com a visão de sua bunda empinada, e segurou seus braços, levando seus pulsos até suas costas, mantendo-os juntos e enrolando o crucifixo neles.

— Isso vai ficar bem aqui... — ele prestou atenção na cruz brilhante. — E se você não aguentar, pode me avisar.

Imediatamente você sentiu uma sensação diferente, como diversos toques em seu corpo. Adam só tinha duas mãos, mas você sentia mãos segurando seus pulsos, segurando a parte de trás dos seus joelhos para manter seu equilíbrio e finalmente uma mão dele em seu quadril.

Ele segurou a ereção com a outra mão e levou até sua intimidade molhada e exposta, deslizando a glande levemente por sua entrada, te provocando desse jeito sujo.

— Meu Deus... — suspirou surpresa.

— Deus definitivamente não está aqui, querida — e ele empurrou tudo, te fazendo gemer alto e surpresa enquanto fechava os olhos.

A outra mão foi até seu quadril, te fazendo empinar os quadris para que ele pudesse mover os dele. A chuva ainda estava forte lá fora, e os trovões e os raios eram altos o bastante para poder mascarar os gemidos e os sons de seus quadris que ecoavam pelo quarto. Felizmente, a cama não fazia tanto barulho, e a cabeceira não estava batendo contra a parede de pedra, mas ele estava sendo bem intenso.

Não conseguia expressar a satisfação de estar sendo segurada por essas "mãos invisíveis", mas era uma sensação que beirava a definição de "celestial". Adam estava focado em te satisfazer, movendo os quadris num ritmo que era um pouco mais rápido, e a fazia gemer.

Nunca pensou que fosse se encontrar na cama, gemendo graças a um padre — na verdade, um demônio disfarçado de padre —, mas olha só a ironia do destino. Ele havia te corrompido da forma mais deliciosa possível, te fazendo enxergar que era bom poder se render ao prazer da carne quando estivesse com alguém que sabia o que estava fazendo.

E, céus... ele sabia foder.

— A-Adam, o que é isso? — perguntava, entre gemidos. Mal conseguia falar, as ondas de prazer eram de desnortear qualquer um que ousasse sentir.

— Isso não é nada, eu estou pegando leve com você... — ouviu ele rir, aquela risada cafajeste de mais cedo.

Os cabelos negros caíam pelo rosto de Adam, que estava olhando para baixo e apreciando a visão de sua bunda indo de encontro ao quadril dele, enquanto ele apertava sua carne com as duas mãos. O pomo de Adão subia e descia enquanto ele respirava pesadamente e gemia sem pudor algum. Ouvi-lo gemendo era tão bom.

Sentia aquela sensação novamente em seu baixo ventre, como se aquele nó imaginário estivesse próximo a se romper e fosse te levar ao ápice novamente. Estava prestes a saborear a deliciosa sensação num terceiro orgasmo.

— Por favor, não pare... por favor... — sua voz estava manhosa, mal conseguia falar.

Tendo em vista isso, ele usou um pouco mais do poder, fazendo você sentir agora como se a boca dele estivesse em seu clitóris, mas ao mesmo tempo estivesse em seus seios. Eram muitos estímulos juntos, e no momento em que sentiu, um gemido de surpresa deixou seus lábios que estavam abertos em um perfeito "o".

Ele aproveitou para mover os quadris num ritmo mais bruto e rápido.

— Goza pra mim, meu amor. Você tá quase lá, quase lá... — o tom de voz rouco dele adentrava e corrompia sua mente. — Goza no meu pau.

— Eu t-tô... eu tô- aah! — o gemido que anunciou o ápice acabou cortando sua lamúria enquanto você sentia as ondas de prazer atingirem seu corpo violentamente, fazendo seus quadris tremerem e sentiu que estava molhando o pau dele com aquele líquido quente.

Seus sentidos estavam confusos, a sensação ainda estava fluindo por todo o seu corpo, como o sangue que fluía por suas veias ativamente. Gozou com força, fechando seus olhos e praticamente gritando, agradecendo mentalmente pela tempestade que assolava o mundo lá fora.

— Que delícia, querida. Puta que pariu- ugh! Eu vou gozar, eu vou gozar... — o moreno gemia num tom mais manhoso e delicioso de se ouvir, aquilo não sairia da sua memória nem tão cedo.

Ele penetrou profundamente mais algumas vezes enquanto gozava em seu interior, liberando jatos de porra quente em sua buceta e respirava ofegante. O pomo de Adão subia e descia, como havia sido no monastério. As mãos grandes apertavam sua pele e os músculos daquele abdômen forte se contraíram.

Vocês ficaram parados mais alguns instantes, tentando voltar à realidade depois dessa experiência intensa.

O moreno saiu de seu interior e depositou um beijo em uma de suas nádegas.

— Seja uma boa garota e mantenha tudo aí dentro, hm? — ele disse tranquilamente.

Uma mão foi até seus pulsos, pegando o crucifixo e aquela força invisível parou de te segurar, te permitindo deitar no colchão. Ele colocou o crucifixo novamente e se deitou ao seu lado, te puxando para o colo dele.

Seus corpos estavam quentes e suados, mas aquilo era muito melhor do que havia imaginado. Ele deixou um beijo no topo de sua cabeça, e você pode fazer aquele peito forte de travesseiro enquanto ele deslizava a ponta dos dedos por seu ombro nu, no que seria uma carícia singela.

Passou uma perna pelo quadril dele, se aninhando no braço grande e forte do mais velho.

— Eu sou seu... — ele pegou sua mão e levou até os lábios, depositando um beijo terno. — E você é minha.

— Você é meu demônio de estimação? — brincou, fazendo-o rir.

— Se é assim que você quer se referir à mim.

[...]

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐃𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒: morceguinhos, eu sou tão apaixonada nesse plot maluco que eu tirei do cu, que eu juro que vou fazer um livro inteiro sobre isso no wattpad puta merda, o Adam é uma delícia e ele como PADRE fica a coisa mais pecaminosa do mundo juro puta que pariuuuu ��️

[reareaotaku]

Masterlist I

Updated: September 13, 2023 [Completed] !Masterlist II Here!

Bnha

A Beautiful Tail Dead Man Running Pt1, Pt2, Pt3 What It's Like To Be A Dad Hate Kind of Love Yandere Shoto Todoroki Headcanons Trying to Breakup [Deku, Bakugou, Shoto] Man-Eating Bird Male! Toga

Voltron

I Don't Hate You

Swat Kats

A Pretty Kat Chance Furlong Headcanons

SVTFOE

A Sick Love

Sailor Moon

Escape The Squad

Kim Possible

Maybe We Need A Break

Hansel & Gretel

A Look into the Dark Fairy Tales Pt1, Pt2, Pt3

Lego Ninjago

The Green/Gold Ninja

Scooby Doo

Yandere Daphne Blake Yandere Scooby Doo

Own Characters

Are You The Villain Harry the Lawyer Priest Son Yandere Loser

Thunder Cats

You're a Prince? Fuck-

Charlie Brown

What an Annoyance Aged Up! Schroeder [Peanuts] Headcanons

Monster High

Yandere! Porter "Paintergeist" Geiss Headcanons Yandere! Cleo De Nile

Euphoria

Yandere! Nate Jacobs

Red Shoes & The Seven Dwarfs

Yandere! Prince Merlin Headcanons

Ben 10

Keep My Girlfriend's Name Out Of Your Mouth

Invincible

Yandere! Mark Grayson [Invincible] Headcanons

Big Mouth/Human Resources

Yandere! Pete Headcanons Loving You So [Connie]

Skip Beat

Yandere! Ren Tsuruga Headcanons

Lolirock

Yandere! Lolirock Headcanons

Metal Family

I'm Not a Stalker!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Yandere Aang Headcanons

Miraculous Ladybug

Chloe x Reader x Mari

Percy Jackson

Yandere! Percy Jackson Headcanons

Twilight

Yandere! Edward Cullen Headcanons Yandere! Jacob Black Headcanons

Free! Swim Club

Yandere! Haruka Nanase Headcanons Yandere! Nagisa Hazuki Headcanons Makoto Tachibana Headcanons

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Yandere Sabrina Headcanons

Assassination Classroom

Yandere Karma Headcanons

My Life As A Teenage Robot

My Neighbor was a Robot

Phineas and Ferb

Ferb Fletcher Headcanons

The Originals/Vampire Diaries

Yandere! Klaus Mikaelson Headcanons Yandere Klaus Courting Yandere Elijah Mikaelson Headcanons Yandere! Damon Salvatore Headcanons

Shadows of Rose

My Only Friend [Drabble]

Welcome Home [COMPLETE/FINISHED]

You are Mine [Drabble] [Wally] Lovey Dovey Darling [Wally]

Bob's Burgers

Being a Belcher Calvin Fischoeder Headcanons

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Rodrick Heffley

Futurama

Yandere! Philip J Fry

Megamind

Yandere Metro Man

There's Someone in your House

Yandere! Zach Sandford Headcanons Sneaking Off with Zach

Barbie

Why Don't You Love Me? Yandere Ken! Headcanons I Love You Like a Doll [NSFW] Pleasurable Sin [NSFW] Red Faced Loser I'll Never Stop Loving You Don't Run from my Love

Clone High

Yandere! Joan of Arc Headcanons JFK Headcanons

Sabrina the Teenage Witch [1996]

Harvey Kinkle Headcanons

Corpse Bride

Yandere! Victor Van Dort Headcanons

Fairytales

Yandere! Male Cinderella Yandere! Peter Pan

Merlin BBC

Yandere! Merlin Headcanons

ICarly

Childhood Crush [Fred Headcanons]

IT

Ben Denbrough Headcanons Fear and Anxiety [Eddie]

Scream

Yandere! Billy Loomis Headcanons Call Me, Baby [Yandere! Billy Loomis] Lively Party Bloody Hands

SVU

Detective Chester Lake Headcanons Dr. George Huang Headcanons Rafael Barba Headcanons Sonny Carisi Headcanons

[eddieheart]

PAST

Fandom: Law and order: SVU

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Sonny Carisi

Words: 520

Description: Rafael and Sonny’s thoughts on their relationship.

Sonny and Rafael were finally in a good place. It had taken a long time for the both of them to be comfortable with each other and their feelings. Of course they trusted one another immensely, but trust doesn't always mean telling each other everything.

Both of them grew up in 'traditional' religious homes, homosexuality and being gay were never talked about. If anything they were seen as taboo or shameful. Manuel Barba had been a violent, spiteful man, who valued fear and discipline over respect and individuality, which for Rafael was very difficult.

It’s no secret that ADA Rafael Barba is a sarcastic, cheeky and unique man. Rafael trusted his partner explicitly, without a doubt. But he still hadn't told Sonny about his father or his childhood.

Sonny, despite poplar belief, had grown up in a similar situation. A strict Catholic upbringing shaped his world view and to this day still coloured his vision. In high school he'd dreamed of becoming a priest, he saw it as his only way to escape the sin and perversion that took hold of him.

Now of course, he realized that being gay wasn't bad or a sin or a perversion, it was just who he was. He didn't understand how his love for Rafael could be seen as wrong, not anymore.

He remembered speaking to father Eugene, 'you don't know how many times I have gotten on my knees and prayed to be relieved of this weakness'. 'Yes I can.' The father hadn't realized what he meant, but Sonny knew.

His parents still asked when he would bring a nice Catholic girl home, they didn't realize that he was the nice Catholic girl. Rafael didn't know how much they had in common, Sonny didn't like to talk about his childhood and family or what had happened to make him change his mind on the priesthood.

Sonny didn't talk about Church or his pastor or why he would never go back to that Church. He did talk about his love for god, his love for Rafael and his commitment to both Sunday mass and ADA Rafael Barba.

Rafael hasn't been religious in a long time, he didn't know if he believed or wanted to believe in god. What he did know was that he loved Sonny and if Sonny wanted to go to Sunday mass, he would go too.

Sonny had hidden his feelings towards Rafael for years, mostly in fear of rejection or a fear of Rafael telling others about him. The thought that Rafael would ‘out’ him was a ridiculous one, he knew that. But the fact that Sonny had been to 4 different precincts in less than two years for that very same reason, pushed him into a dark room of doubt and fear.

It had taken both of them years to confront each other with their feelings. When they had it had been magical. Sonny had never felt this kind of love before, neither had Rafael.

Even if they didn't tell each other everything, they trusted one and other with their lives and for them, that was enough.

Thank you to my lovely beta-Reader @buggylad

[teamhappyme]

to care for you

rafael barba x female!reader

referenced cases from S17E04 and S17E16

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first fic that I’m letting the world see and I’m... terrified. i hope whoever reads this gets some joy out of it. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo and @hurricanejjareau , y’all got me roped into loving the SVU boys, and this would not have been created if I hadn’t found your blogs. big inspiration over here. alright, here we go friends.

****

“Well you’re going, right?” 

“I haven’t decided.” “Haven’t decided? It’s Liv and Noah, Barba. A christening for the cutest little boy and the most deserving mother. They’ve been through hell this year, they deserve our support. Besides, you’re a devout Catholic, you should be all in for this.”

“First of all, he’s getting christened in a Unitarian church. Second, I wouldn’t exactly use the term devout. The last time I went to church was with you and Carisi after that trafficking case last year.” He said while grabbing another slice of pizza. In your three years since joining the SVU this was the first time you saw Rafael Barba eat a slice of pizza. 

“Careful. You might get some grease on that thousand dollar suit, Counselor.” He glared at you before taking a bite. “If you’re worried about the priest smelling your absence out, Carisi and I have enough devotion to pass on to you.”

“I don’t want any of Carisi’s Catholic guilt.” “You need me to take your confession?” You asked with a smirk. 

There weren’t many people that could get away with pushing Barba’s buttons without getting chewed out by the ADA in his next breath. And when you first started out with the squad, there were many occasions where you and Barba had some heated arguments.

Getting transferred to SVU was an overwhelming experience. You were thrown into the understaffed department right along with Carisi, so the two of you had to step up pretty quick for the unit. There was no adjustment period, trust wasn’t built, it was forced upon the squad. It took about two months for you to really trust the other detectives, but once you did, the unit got into a groove. Cases were being solved left and right and you started to understand the routine of the SVU. 

Until you had to testify. It was six months in, and it was your first testimony with the unit. It was also the first rape case you worked with minor victims. There were four fifteen year old girls accusing their history teacher of rape, two of which disclosed to you. 

You prepped with Barba for an hour the night before, making sure you knew the case inside and out. You felt confident in your answers, and were ready to take the stand. Until the following morning. On your walk down to the courtroom with him, you rushed into the ladies room to vomit up your coffee and your anxiety. Public speaking was never one of your strong suits, and Barba had cautioned you to be prepared for Buchanon’s toxic cross examination.

As you washed your hands and cleared your face, Rafael stayed outside the door, even deterring a woman from coming in. Once you exited, he was waiting at the side, pulling a granola bar and stick of gum out of his blazer pocket. You took the food, as he gave you a nod and waited for your okay to continue the walk down to the courtroom. A slight nod of your own and weak smile got his feet moving again. 

That trial was the first olive branch extended between you and Rafael. He wasn’t one to offer warm greetings, and since you were often glued to Carisi’s hip, it was hard for him to separate you from the enthusiastic detective. There were passive aggressive comments relayed back and forth while trying to indict a perp, and long nights spent deliberating probable cause at the round table. But it wasn’t until you accompanied Liv to One Hogan Place, in a particularly bad mood when you sassed the ADA back after he made a comment about your witnesses being incredibly unreliable, not having time for the shenanigans. 

After that moment, Rafael knew that he could trust you. The passive aggressive comments yielded, but the sass continued. The repertoire the two of you were slowly building drew quite the audience, Carisi and Rollins almost always feeding the fire with more topics to discuss. 

About a year into your tenure here, you started to check in on Barba. The first time you stopped by was originally a business call. Liv needed a warrant asap, already staking out the apartment of a suspect. You rushed over to the courthouse, trying to find any ADA’s secretary when you saw Barba still in his office at midnight. According to Carmen, he rarely went home before 9:00. After that night, you made it a habit to check in on him at least once a week. The DA’s office was a cutthroat environment, and Barba’s office was an even lonelier place. 

Thursday nights were penciled in for your unofficial drop ins, almost through the week but still burning the midnight oil. You would show up around 10:00 with pizza for you, and sushi for his expensive taste every time, knowing neither one of you had time to eat dinner yet. Most of the time, the two of you would work on your respective cases, sometimes sharing notes if the work overlapped. But if it was a slow week, sometimes the two of you would just, talk. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who understood the demanding nature of the job. Your family in particular couldn’t understand why you loved this career so much, but your squad could. It was reassuring to have their support.

“Alright, enough with the holier than thou attitude, Detective. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case.” Sitting up a little straighter in your chair, you wiped your hands on a napkin as he pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve been encouraged by the D.A. to drop the charges against Bobby D’Amico and Noel Panko.”

“What?” “And I have a motions hearing scheduled for Friday morning to dismiss the charges.”

After everything the squad had done for this case, what you saw Amanda put herself through. It was all for nothing.

“Barba, you can’t be serious. We have three victims, two willing to testify. We have footage of them attempting to rape Rollins for crying out loud.”

“Kristi Cryer has changed her story too many times. She was raped, then it was consensual, it was Panko, it was Panko and D’Amico. A jury will never believe her story.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “The jury won’t believe her or you won’t?”

“Hey, you know this isn’t about what I think. This isn’t a case we can win. We have to look at the optics.”

“The optics,” you muttered as you stood up from your seat. “Multiple women were raped by two well-known men in New York society, and the D.A. doesn’t want to make any enemies, right?” 

“You’re taking this worse than Liv did.” You scoffed. “Am I? Good. Because for the rest of their lives, those girls will have to live with the fact that their rapists are still out there. Not to mention their reputations will be ruined. People are going to call them liars, and whores. Their lives are never going to be the same. All because you won’t stand up to the D.A. and do what’s right?” 

Rafael stood up now, his loosened tie swinging from the sudden movement. “If this goes to trial, it will not go our way.”

“What about when you went after DCFS? You went after Musio, Grayson, Sheridan,”

“That was different,” “Why because it was Liv?”

“Because the department was a mess, and there were months worth of evidence of neglect and backdating reports. You were there, and if I remember correctly you were fighting alongside Liv to get me to prosecute.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, not willing to accept that this case was over. “These girls deserve justice, Barba. You were there when Panko went off at Dodds, he knows he’s done.”

“I want these guys just as bad as you do, Y/n. But we do not have the evidence. It’s a he said she said case, with one other accusation from a year ago without a rape kit. Not to mention Rollins went undercover without notifying a superior, tainting the whole investigation. We will make a fool out of ourselves and lose this case in court.”

“And it’s all about winning for the D.A.’s office, isn’t it. Can’t do anything out of the kindness of your hearts, can you?” You knew you crossed the line as you saw Rafael’s shoulder’s drop the slightest bit, his jaw clenched in place. 

“Maybe if you passed the Bar instead of failing three times you could understand why we can’t pursue this. We can’t bring a case to trial based on our emotions. This isn’t your tissue loaded desks, this is a courthouse.” 

You broke the tense eye contact you were holding after his statement. Insulting your academic failures and empathetic tendencies in one foul swoop. That was a low blow, even for the counselor.

Rafael knew his words pierced you. He pushed his chair back and let out a breath, getting ready to back track. But you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, my capability of empathizing with victims is the reason why you’ve put so many rapists away. If they had to speak to you, there would be no cases for you to even prosecute.”

This wasn’t a normal spout between the two of you. Things rarely got personal, and if they did, they were never this spiteful. 

“Then I guess there’s a reason I’m prosecuting in front of the judge and jury and you’re dealing with the victims.”

You scoffed at his final statement. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t think he would use your insecurities or shortcomings against you. Especially not the fact that you failed the Bar Exam three times, which was only disclosed to him once Carisi opened his big mouth.

Covering your head with your beanie, you made your way to the door before either one of you could do more damage. You fought the urge to apologize, knowing you would need space before you could think of a response.

“Have a good night, Counselor.”

****

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! Look at that tower you made with Maura! Did you show Luke?” “No. Mama saw it!” You smiled at the two year old through the phone, his own grin lighting up the room even over facetime. “Benjamin, is mama there? Y/n/n wants to talk to her for a minute.”

“I can bring you to her!” Maura took the phone out of the toddler’s hands, but you quickly protested so you could say goodbye to your godson. “Bye Benny, I love you buddy.” He blew you a kiss and you caught it as your little cousin brought you across the room. 

“Auntie Leah! Y/n/n wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over while settling in next to her aunt. You saw your older cousin’s calming face, and couldn’t help the tears in your eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything and you're already crying,” You let out a laugh and took a sip of water. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” 

“Y/n, are you at the precinct? It’s 8:00 your time on thanksgiving, what are you doing there?”

“There was some work I needed to get done. If I can’t be with you guys, I can at least get a head start so I can come home for Christmas.” The squadroom was empty now, but it had only been filled by the desk sergeant and a couple uni’s until five. You’d been here since noon, not succeeding in spending the holiday alone in your apartment. “Besides, I’ve been able to ignore all of my mother’s phone calls with the ‘I’m working’ excuse. Has she called you guys yet?”

“Just mom once. You know she doesn’t mean it to hurt you, she just wishes you could spend time with family for the holidays.” “I know.”

Your family meant the world to you, and having missed the last two years of holidays was hard on you. Sure, you saw them eventually, but Christmas and Thanksgiving weren’t the same alone.

“Since I’ve already started Christmas shopping, is there anything Benjamin needs or wants from his godmother?” “He has requested, and I quote, ‘y/n/n’s nummy cookies’.” The smile that spread across your face was so big it almost hurt. That baby boy was probably your favorite person on the planet, besides your own nieces and nephews. “Alright well hopefully he can help Y/n/n make those nummy cookies in a few weeks. If not, I’ll send a box out, along with an amazing present.”

“What about me?” Maura asked, and you just shook your head. “Hey, I’m not made out of money here girlfriend.” She laughed at that.

“Have you at least eaten anything today?” Leah asked, trying to steer the conversation into a more meaningful direction. She could read you so easily. “Yes, I have. I’m not going to be here much longer, so I’ll grab something for dinner on my way home.”

“Y/n/n,” The eight year old interrupted again, and you couldn’t help the smile that etched across your face as you rolled your eyes at the silly nickname. 

“Yes, Maura.” 

“There’s a fancy man walking towards you.” 

You turned your head and saw Barba walking through the squadroom. “I gotta go, Leah.” 

“Is everything okay?”

He pulled over Carisi’s chair, raising a brow to make sure it was okay. You nodded.

“It’s okay. Just a colleague. I’ll talk to you later.” “Okay. We love you and miss you.” Tears pooled in your eyes again as Maura hopped on. “Love you Y/n/n!” A tear fell from your eye as you let out a laugh. “Love you too guys. Bye.”

You ended the call, quickly wiping your eyes now that you had an audience. It was only last night that you had your rather animated argument, and neither of you had reached out. Being stubborn was one of many traits the two of you shared.

“Can I help you, counselor?” 

He held up a brown bag with a receipt stapled to the fold. “It’s thursday night. It’s usually you making trips to the office, but I figured I could take the field trip tonight.” 

He opened up the bag, pulling out cartons of Chinese food. Your hand immediately reached for the fortune cookies, ripping the plastic wrapper off. 

There was a lingering tension in the air, unresolved conflict, and hurt feelings, but it still felt okay. Mainly because the two of you knew you were both to blame. 

“How did you know I was here?” You asked while grabbing the carton of lo mein. “I called Carisi. He said you were supposed to be in Minneapolis for the holiday, but got wrapped up in the case. Said he offered his family to you, but after hearing the commotion over the phone, I understand why you declined.”

“I didn’t decline because of their raucous personalities. I just wanted to get some work done.” 

He digressed, retreating into his carton of fried rice. “What about you? Why aren’t you eating pie and decorating for Christmas with your lovely mother?”

“She volunteered this year. Since Abuelita died, she hasn’t been a big fan of holidays.” You nodded, knowing how hard it was for Rafael to grieve his abuelita last year. 

“How has she been doing?”

He shrugged. “She has good days and bad days. She blames herself most of the time, but she has her school, and her kids to keep her upright.” “And you.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, the corners of his mouth turning up the slightest. He always wanted to do more for his family. 

“Was that who you were on the phone with? Your family from Minneapolis?” 

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out there for thanksgiving, but when we caught Kristi’s case, I cancelled. I thought,” You stopped, knowing any mention of the case would bring up last night’s conversation.  

“We were going to trial.” He finished the sentence and you nodded.

If everything had gone according to plan, Panko and D’Amico would’ve been indicted this week and the trial would’ve begun the following week. You’d already started prepping Kristi with Rollins, making sure she knew her story backwards and forwards. But it was all for nothing it seems.

“Y/n, what I said last night,” You shook your head. “We both said things we didn’t mean. I started it, and was completely out of line.” 

“You weren’t. You were fighting for Kristi, and your case. I just, I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran a hand through his hair, not perfectly quaffed like usual. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Bar. It was low, extremely low, and you didn’t deserve it. You and Carisi could take me out in court in a day. And if you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it until I die.” You laughed while taking an egg roll, crossing your finger over your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You let the apology sink in for a minute before starting your own. “I know you would’ve brought this to trial if we had enough evidence. I know that you care about the victims just as much as we do. I’m sorry that I said you didn’t.”

Poking around the container, he let out a scoff. “You weren’t that far off. I’m the D.A.’s puppet, letting him decide which cases I prosecute or not. We don’t have a lot of room for an emotional influence. I know how cold I can be with vics and witnesses.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.” 

“Tell that to Kristi Cryer. She posted a vlog today, ripped me a new one for not believing her. Called the D.A.’s office, and I quote, ‘a bunch of spineless jellyfish.’ She’s not wrong. I mean,” He let out a humorless laugh. “I went to law school so I could help people. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself the last twenty years. But in reality, I’ve been climbing the bureaucratic totem pole, pushing myself further and further away from that kid in the Bronx.”

“You don’t seriously believe what Cryer said do you?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. You sighed, placing the carton on your desk, leaning over to rest your hand on his arm. “You are the Assistant District Attorney for the Sex Crimes division. People do not last here if they don’t care about the victims. I’ve seen you in court, in testimony prep, hell even in interrogation. You care about every single person that needs our help. Does it suck that the law is not the most accommodating to rapists and pedophiles? Yeah, it’s really shitty. But you didn’t write the law books, as much as you like to believe you did.” A smile crept onto his face. “You care about your mom, your abuelita, everyone that helped you in the Bronx. I know you care about us, even Carisi, although you’d never admit it. You are not a spineless jellyfish, no matter how fun it is to say.”

“You really believe that?” He still couldn’t meet your eyes. It always amazed you how easily the most put together people could fall victim to their insecurities. 

“Rafael, I would not be spending every Thursday night for the past two years with you if I didn’t believe that you were one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. I care about you.”

His green eyes finally met yours as he moved to gently hold your hand that was previously resting on his forearm. He gave it a soft squeeze as you smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that started blooming in your stomach. The same butterflies that rested there every time your hands brushed when you were walking down the hallway, or when his hand rested at the small of your back to escort you into the courtroom. And after tonight, and the way he was looking back at you, you knew he felt them too.

You spent the next ten minutes finishing off the takeout, sitting in a comfortable silence, not needing to fill the moment with anything else. The two of you kept sneaking glances at one another, breaking out into a sheepish grin if you were caught. 

Once you were done eating, Rafael cleaned up the food as you got all your belongings together for the long weekend. It wasn’t until that moment you realized he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit; he had on a navy blue quarter zip, black jeans, and some loafers. A smile crept up on your face knowing that you got to see him in casual clothes.

“Ready?” He asked as you slipped on your gloves and pushed your chair in behind you. “Ready.” 

You lived close enough to the precinct that it was only a ten minute walk. Rafael lived in the other direction, but still insisted on walking you back to your apartment. An Uber could pick him up from there, he said, because that man would not be caught dead walking across the city in his loafers.

He called for a ride as you approached your block, not wanting him to wait in the cold too long. As you approached the brick walk up, you started to fidget with the keys resting in your pocket. 

“Thank you for dinner. And a double thank you for not making me eat your sushi.” He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being such good company.”

“Anytime.” A sharp gust of wind hit you, causing you to duck your head into your coat for a few seconds. When you looked back up, Rafael’s cheeks were rosy red and wind burnt, and absolutely adorable. “I’ll see you next week for a warrant, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure. Make sure to get me a coffee on the way, listening to you list the legal reasons why you need the warrant always makes me sleepy.” 

You smiled.“Deal. Goodnight, Raf.”

“‘Night, Y/n.” 

Despite the farewell statements, neither one of you moved. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his warm eyes, and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers brush against yours that you moved closer. 

His eyes flickered to your lips for a second, before looking back at you. You took another step towards him, waiting for him to close the gap between you. When he did, all you could feel was the warmth of his lips on yours, and the cold tip of his nose resting against your cheek. 

It was short, the two of you pulling away after a few seconds. But one smile from you had him leaning back in, resting a hand on your cheek as he kissed you again. It was slow and careful, but full of adoration. You couldn’t help but smile into him, bringing your hand up to rest against his own. After a few more seconds, his own smile made it impossible to stay connected. 

This time when you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb across his red, wind burnt cheek, not even trying to suppress the stupid smile on your face. And you were happy to see him grinning the same way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He said, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. Neither one of you is willing to ruin this moment with any talks about what this means. “Okay. Get home safe.” “I will.”

One more look at his rosy red cheeks, and you let out a laugh before you let yourself pull away.

“What?” He asked, completely dumbfounded by his affect on you. You shook your head in response. “Nothing.”

He returned your laughter before lightly kissing your lips one last time. You could get used to this. 

“Goodnight, counselor.” You said once you pulled away, lightly shoving him toward the ride that just pulled up. 

“Goodnight, detective.”

****

[thatesqcrush]

Sneak peek: Beautiful Sinner (priest! Barba AU)

Happy Sunday! It’s the Lord’s day… time to worship in the church of Barba.

Prologue:

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

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

You shivered at the timbre of the words spoken. And you knew that your sins were also their sins. You squirmed in your seat.

“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 sternly. “What exactly are you going to do?”

You let out a shaky breath and heat flushed your cheeks. You stepped out of the confessional and opened the door to where Fr. Barba was sitting. He looked at you intently with dark eyes. Desire was written all over his face.

You began to unbutton your blouse. “I think you already know, Father.”

**

..

.

[thatesqcrush]

Beautiful Sinner, Ch. 2

Priest!Rafael Barba x reader

Rating: NSFW due to language, male masturbation, graphic discussion of self-flagellation

WC: 6.1K

AN: Thanks to @beccabarba for the continued feedback & support.

AN2: Roughly edited. Apologies for anything missed.

Part one here.

The following morning came far faster than you’d hoped. You groaned as your headache made its way known. Your mouth felt dry and cottony and you reached for your water bottle, chugging it hard. The plastic crinkled under your grip. The memories of the night prior flood you causing your cheeks to heat up and arousal shoot through you. Your mind replayed the kiss over and over, on an endless loop. You could still feel the prickle of his facial hair against your skin as his lips moved against yours, needy and desperate. You could easily recall the feel of his long, thick fingers inside of you. You could feel how hard he was - for you and how your body was eager for his touch. Shame quickly followed - Rafael was a man of the cloth - and you - were sin of the  flesh.

Every time the memory surfaced—his lips on yours, the passion of his touch—guilt and shame twisted in your gut. But beneath that was another feeling, one that gnawed at you in quiet, solitary moments: longing. Rafael wanted you just as much as you wanted him.  It was all you could think about.

The subsequent days at the Church that followed were heavy with awkwardness and tension. Despite the best attempts at professionalism  between you and Rafael, the tension remained, like a shadow neither of you could shake.

**

A steady drizzle fell from the steel-gray sky, coating the city in a shimmering layer of moisture. The streets were slick with rain, reflecting the glow of traffic lights and the muted colors of autumn leaves scattered across the sidewalks. People hustled along under a sea of umbrellas, their footsteps creating a rhythmic splash on the pavement. Yellow cabs hissed by, tires cutting through shallow puddles, sending up small sprays of water. The trees that lined the streets were half-bare and dotted with amber and red leaves, their branches bending in the wind. The air smelled of damp concrete, wet earth, and the faint hint of roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart. The city pulsed on, unfazed by the rumbling weather.

You woke up with a start - to the crash and boom of the sky. Your skin was soaked in sweat and your pussy throbbed. Once again your dreams were fraught, filled with the things you and Rafael wanted, but could not have.

In one dream, everything was soft around the edges, like an old photograph, but the feelings are painfully sharp. You saw Rafael—standing just a few steps away—bathing in a golden light that made him appear almost angelic. He smiled, that familiar, heart-stopping smile that fills you with warmth and hope. You moved towards him, wanting nothing more than to close the distance, to touch him, but with every step you took, he drifted further away. No matter how fast you walked, or how desperately you tried, he remained just out of reach.  

Other dreams were more along the lines of forbidden love —love between you and Rafael would bring ruin upon the community. Yet, you were irresistibly drawn together, meeting in secret beneath the shadows of the church, where only the sacred texts and the ancient relics were witness to your growing passion. The two of you were intoxicated with a blend of fear and desire, as though every glance and touch could tear apart the very fabric of the world you know. The dream carried an electric tension. The dream is suffocating, heavy with the sense that no matter how much you want one another, it’s useless.

You wake up from those dreams with a hollow, aching feeling still lodged in your chest. As the tendrils of sleep abate, the real world returns, leaving only the bittersweet reminder of what you can never have.

As you puttered around the kitchen, getting ready for the day ahead, you realized you would be meeting with Rafael to finalize the plan for the upcoming youth Halloween party.

‘Fuck!’

**

You zipped your coat as you headed to the church. An alert pinged on your phone and when you opened it, you frowned.

Halloween Party Discussion w/Fr. Barba - Canceled.

You let out an audible - and very irritated - sigh. You were not surprised, but at the same time, disappointed. Figuring you could use the extra time to work on logging the books from years prior, you decided to head to the church anyway.

Imagine your surprise when you arrived, Myra was sitting at your desk. You furrowed your brow and frowned. “¿Qué haces aquí?”

Myra’s lips stretched into a thin smile. The older lady shifted, before putting on her glasses to see you better. “Buenos días, señorita. ¿Es así como saludas adecuadamente a alguien?” (Good morning Miss. Is this how you properly greet someone?)

“Lo silento,” you began. “Me sorprende verte. ¿Dónde está Padre Barba?” (I'm sorry. I am surprised to see you. Where is Fr. Barba?)

“El sacerdote está fuera de la ciudad.” (The priest is out of town.)

Your brow arched. Rafael had never mentioned a trip and you had a feeling it was him trying to avoid you. “Necesito hablar con él.” (I need to speak with him.)

Myra thrusted a large binder towards you. “Pide una cita.” (Request an appointment.)

You rolled your eyes and dropped your belongings onto one of the chairs. Despite Myra’s protests, you made your way in. “Yo también trabajo aquí,” you grumbled under your breath. Myra shooed you away. (I work here too.)

You loomed over Myra and typed on the computer, quickly pulling up the directory. You found Rafael’s number and jotted it down before finding your phone. You weren’t certain how all this time you didn’t have his phone number but now you did. When he didn’t answer, you texted him.

‘What the fuck? Am I out of a job?’

You sighed and walked in an aimless circle outside of the rectory. When Rafael didn’t respond, you replied once more.

**

Rafael was in fact not out of town. He was not even out of the neighborhood. He was in his room, in front of his bed. He was just in shorts, his body hunched over, the cold floor biting into his knees. The room was dark, illuminated only by a single candle which caused trembling shadows. The crucifix was illuminated by the candle, its solemn figure of Jesus seeming to gaze down with silent judgment. Rafael’s breathing was labored, the weight of his unforgivable desire for you suffocating him, drowning him in shame. 

With trembling hands, he reached for the braided leather scourge by his side. The sharp knots were worn with use and if someone looked closely, they would be able to see the dried blood that stained the leather. His voice cracked as he prayed, begging for absolution. His prayers were fervent, pleading for deliverance from the temptation of you. He raised the scourge, his breath hitching in anticipation of the coming pain. With a swift motion, he lashed it against his back, the pain hot, searing, and immediate. It sent a shockwave of agony through skin and muscle and to the bone. He struck once more, the leather biting deeper, drawing thin lines of blood. His teeth were tightly clenched and sweat dropped, the salt stinging the open wounds. Rafael didn’t stop, the pain a sweet release of the anguish and guilt he felt. Each lash was a desperate attempt to cleanse his mind and scour his soul from the unholy thoughts he had.

Tears streamed down Rafael’s face, his prayers dissolving into broken sobs. His strength finally gave out and he collapsed forward, his forehead pressed to the cold floor. He laid there trembling, breathing ragged and shallow. His back throbbed, burning with his self punishment.

He was acutely aware of his phone buzzing but couldn’t bring himself to answer. It was only after growing annoyed with the incessant buzzing did he gather the will to move himself. Wincing as he did so, he shuffled to wear his phone laid on the console. 

He let out a sigh when he saw it was you. He wasn’t going to call you immediately back. It was your text that stopped him in his tracks.

‘What the fuck? Am I out of a job?’

Before he could think of a proper response, another message came from you.

‘I am coming over.’

**

Rafael thought that by the time he answered the door, he’d know what to say. Instead he groused, “Relax with the knocking.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took in his appearance. He was pale, sweaty and clammy. His hair was in disarray. 

“Are you ill?” you asked as you made your way in. Rafael looked outside and then swept his arm out. 

“Please come in.” His tone was annoyed. “Not like I have nothing going on.” He shut the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “And that’s the biggest load of shit; as if I don’t know your schedule.”

“Language,” Rafael chastised. “And plans change.”

You furrowed your brows. “That’s a cop out and you know it.” You stepped closer to Rafael. “Are you sick? You don’t look well.”

Rafael ignored your question. “What do you want?” He winced as he moved and you didn’t miss it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Rafael spat. “Why are you here?”

“Well, imagine my surprise when I showed up to work and Myra was sitting there. Am I out of a job?”

Rafael could tell by your tone and expression that you were hurt. “Yes. No,” he shook his head. “I just need to figure things out.” He paced around the kitchen island, his voice tense.

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Figure out what exactly? This conversation you’ve been avoiding, or the thing you can’t stop thinking about?

Avoiding your gaze, Rafael gritted his teeth. “Don’t do that. You know what I mean.”

You laughed. “No, I don’t think I do. Why don’t you spell it out for me? Go ahead, pretend this isn’t what you want. Say it.”

Rafael whipped his head in your direction. “You think this is easy for me? I can’t… I can’t keep doing this with you. It’s wrong.”

You stepped closer to him. “Wrong? What’s wrong is pretending you don’t want me when I can see it in your eyes. What’s wrong is you thinking you can push me away and suddenly everything will make sense again.”

Rafael clenched his fists, his heart hammering in his chest. “I am a priest. I’m trying to stop this before it gets worse.”

“You think firing me will fix it? That you’ll stop wanting me if I’m not here every day? We both know it’s not going to work like that.”

“I’m doing what I have to do! You don’t understand. I’ve got to put distance between us. I can’t— we can’t—“

It was then you noticed that his shirt was streaked with red. “Rafael - are you bleeding?”

Rafael froze. “No, I—“

You rushed to him, invading his space and rucking up his shirt. He tried to push you away but it was futile. You let out a horrific gasp at the marks on his back.

“Rafael did you—did you do this to yourself?” The tips of your fingers gently and carefully traced his unmarred skin, taking great care to avoid the open wounds. Rafael shivered under your touch. 

Rafael dropped his head. “You don’t know how hard this is for me. I can’t… I can’t be near you without—without losing control.” His voice was low and soft. 

“Maybe that’s the point. Maybe you’re not supposed to control everything. Maybe it’s time you stop running from what you really want.”

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” Rafael pleaded. “I made a promise-a vow.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You questioned ignoring his comment. “These need to be treated or you’ll get an infection.”

“Under the sink,” Rafael replied. 

You turned to face him. “Let’s get this off, and then I want you sitting.”

You helped Rafael with removing his shirt. Your heart broke as he winced repeatedly. You took the shirt streaked with his blood and placed it on the counter as you rummaged around the kitchen. Now armed with a bowl of warm water, a cloth and the medical kit, you kneeled behind Rafael. 

You worked in silence, tenderly cleaning and carefully treating his wounds with ointment. 

Your hands trembled slightly as you clean the wounds with a soft cloth. Your fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary, brushing over unbroken skin with a tenderness that was demonstrative of unspoken feelings. The air between the two of you is rife with tension, the closeness almost unbearable.

“It’s already happening.” You nipped his ear softly, causing Rafael to let out a guttural groan. “You don’t have to fight us.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Rafael replied softly, his breath hitching. He turned to face you. 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “It is. You just don’t see it yet.” You glanced at your watch. “Call Myra and tell her to go home. I’ll be back in an hour and then we can talk about the upcoming youth Halloween party in the office.” You picked up the bowl and medical kit, returning them to the kitchen. You picked up the white undershirt, still damp with sweat. You folded it neatly and then brought it to your face, inhaling his scent. You then placed it in your oversized bag. “Thanks for the shirt.” 

Rafael watched you leave in stunned silence. It was only after you had left that he spoke. 

“Damnit.”

**

When you came back to the rectory, you were pleased it was Myra free. You were even more pleased to see Rafael at your desk, already waiting. You smiled brightly at him. “Hi.”

Rafael gave you a curt nod. “Let’s get to work.”

You raised a paper bag and a beverage tray. “I brought sustenance.” You sat next to him and handed him a coffee. “How’s your back?”

“Better, thanks,” Rafael replied. “And thank you - for what you did - bandaging, you know…” The loquacious lawyer turned priest was at a loss for words. He waved his hand around and you nodded along, understanding.

“You’re welcome,” you replied as you reached for the laptop. Rafael moved back to give you room, but he didn’t miss how your blouse rose up, exposing a sliver of skin. The smell of your shampoo wafted through him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything else. 

For the next couple of hours you were the quintessential good girl - you behaved yourself much to Rafael’s disbelief. You had your marching orders for party prep and you were excited for your first event for the community. 

“Do you dress up for Halloween, Father?” You were organizing your bag, not looking at Rafael directly.

“I wasn’t planning to, but maybe I should. Are you?”

“Of course! Though as what, I have no idea,” you replied. You swung your bag over your shoulder, now fully standing and looking at Rafael.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that it can’t be provocative,” Rafael’s voice was clipped and stern. To his surprise, you interrupted into a fit of giggles.

“What do you take me for? Some kind of whore?”

Rafael’s eyes widened. He sputtered, trying to think of a response. You laughed again.

“I’m just fucking with you,” you replied. “I know - it’s a kids party for Christ’s sake.”

“Language,” Rafael reminded, his voice just as stern. He walked you over to the door, opening it for you.

You turned to face Rafael. “Or what? Spank me?” Not waiting for a response, you continued. “I’d like to see you try. Goodnight, Father. See you on Sunday for mass.”

When the door slammed harshly behind you, you laughed once more.

**

Sunday rolled around. The cool fall air in Manhattan carried a crisp edge, brushing past pedestrians bundled in light coats and scarves. The sky, a bright, cloudless blue, but the sun offered little warmth. Fallen leaves in shades of amber, gold, and crimson litter the sidewalks, crunching as people rushed on by, their breath visible in small puffs. The distant hum of traffic blended with the rustle of leaves and the occasional honk of a taxi. 

You stood on the corner of the street, under the awning of the local bodega waiting for Maria. Service was starting soon and watched as people began to file in one direction towards the church. Maria emerged, lighting a cigarette. She blew out the smoke, a smile on her face. “Whew, much better.”

“That shit is going to kill you, ya know,” you wrinkled your nose, trying to not breathe any of the smoke in.

“Let me have my one vice, okay?” Maria replied. “I’ll quit on Monday.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied sarcastically. “Now come on, I don’t want to be late for mass.”

“Yes, because God really keeps tabs on lateness,” Maria retorted dryly before dropping the cigarette, grinding it to the ground with the ball of her foot.

**

You stood at the end of the pew, your heart pounding in your chest as the line shuffled forward for communion. The cool air of the church pressed gently against your skin, the scent of incense lingering in the air. Your fingers smoothed the hem of your cardigan as your gaze drifted to the altar. Father Barba, draped in his vestments of green, cream and gold, moved with solemn grace, holding the Eucharist with delicate precision.

You’re keenly aware of how his lips move in silent prayer, his face a mask of serene devotion. The light that filtered through the stained glass catches in his graying hair, making it gleam like a halo. As the line inched closer, you felt a quiet awe watching him, his presence somehow both gentle and powerful. The quiet murmur of the congregation faded in your mind, your thoughts swirling between the sacredness of the moment and the magnetism, the pull to him.

You materialize in front of him and Rafael’s gaze is unreadable. He held the host in front of you. “The body of Christ.”

You smile. “Amen.”

You opened your mouth, jutting out your tongue ever so slightly. Rafael’s gaze darkened and he carefully placed the wafer on your tongue. You swiped your tongue over his finger. Rafael’s face hardened and you winked at him before turning back to pray at your pew. You put a little extra sway in your step as you walked away.

You knelt at the pew, your head down in prayer. You lifted your head slightly to watch Rafael. As the last person received Communion, the church fell into a peaceful silence. Rafael returned to the altar, where he carefully gathered the sacred vessels. With reverence, he poured a small amount of water into the chalice, gently cleansing it, ensuring no trace of the consecrated host or wine remained.

Once the vessels were purified, he took the remaining consecrated hosts and, with solemnity, placed them into the tabernacle. The doors of the tabernacle closed with a soft click.

For a brief moment, Rafael stood in quiet prayer, eyes closed, giving thanks for the profound mystery of the Eucharist. Then, turning to the congregation, he led them in a final prayer, asking that the graces received would strengthen them in their journey ahead.

“May your hearts be filled with peace, to carry the light of the Gospel into the world.” With a few final additional words and a blessing, Rafael dismissed the congregants, sending them forth. 

“Are you going to the fellowship group?” Maria asked. “I heard that there are going to be donuts.”

You laughed. “Well, who can say no to donuts? But yeah, I was planning on going.”

**

Group attendees were milling about, talking amongst themselves. Maria went to snag coffee while you went to put your belongings on a folding chair. You felt warm,  so you took off your cardigan. 

“Is that a new shirt?” Maria questioned as she carried the coffee over. You reached over to grab a cup. 

“Uh, something like that,” you replied before you took a sip. You grimaced as you scald your tongue. “Oof ow.”

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Rafael announced as he walked in. He scanned the room and when his eyes landed on you, he froze mid-step. He quickly recovered, shaking off the feeling that ran through him when he saw you in his shirt. “Everyone take a seat. Before we get into discussion of today’s readings, I wanted to discuss the upcoming Halloween party for the teens and children.” 

Rafael gestured towards you, announcing that you were in charge of prep but would need volunteers to help carry out what was needed. You noticed that Rafael was talking about you, but wasn’t looking at you. You smiled politely and spoke up, stating that people could meet with you after the meeting to go over what specific help you needed.

Once you were done, Rafael continued. You listened intently, the rich timbre of his voice and of the words he recited slipped into your body, twining around your ribs and spine like vines, like roots, firm and strong and alive.

To say that the following weeks were busy was an understatement. You were fastidious in your preparation as you wanted to make it an unforgettable event for all. You were cognizant of the fact that hosting a successful event for kids in an underserved community, such as this one, was not just about providing entertainment. Such events could have a transformative impact and you knew it was the minimum these kids deserved. You wanted to create something where every child felt as if they were part of something special. 

**

You smiled at the scene before you. The basement, usually a quiet space, had transformed, buzzing with excitement, transformed into a magical yet spooky Halloween wonderland. Strings of twinkling orange and purple lights hung from the low ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow over the space. Colorful streamers in black and orange swayed gently, and paper ghosts dangled from every corner, their faces grinning mischievously.

Tables were covered with a mix of orange, green and purple tablecloths and adorned with bowls of candy—miniature candy bars, gummy worms, and lollipops of all shapes and colors. A craft station, overflowed with glitter, glue, and markers, inviting children to create their own spooky decorations. Nearby, a corner was set up for pumpkin painting, with small, round pumpkins waiting for eager little hands to transform them into Jack-o'-lanterns.

In one area, a small stage showcased a spooky storytime nook, where volunteers in costumes read tales of friendly ghosts and brave little monsters. Laughter echoed as children, dressed in costumes ranging from superheroes to princesses to ghosts, darted around, their imaginations running wild.

The scent of popcorn filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of caramel apples, creating a cozy, festive atmosphere. A playlist of playful Halloween tunes added to the festive mood. You had rallied some teens at the last minute to volunteer and encourage kids to dance and play games like bobbing for apples and a costume contest. Parents mingled, chatting and sharing smiles, while kids exchanged candy and stories about their favorite costumes. 

“You certainly did a hell of a job,” Maria replied as she rested her arm on your shoulder.  You shrugged and took a sip of your drink. “Kids deserve a nice Halloween.”

“Well mission accomplished,” Maria replied. She gave you a nudge. “Look who decided to swing by.”

You smiled brightly assuming it was Rafael, but instead was met with a mischievous grin from Eric. You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the drink. You forced a smile onto your face. “Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You look good enough to eat,’ Eric replied as he eyed you lasciviously. You glanced at your costume - you were Harley Quinn, the former doctor turned sidekick and lover of the Joker. You were dressed more modestly than your fictional inspiration, donning a full fishnet bodysuit under your shorts and tops. Your hair was in pigtails and you used hair chalk to color your strands blue and pink. 

“Thanks,” you replied. “You look great yourself - what exactly are you supposed to be?” You eyed his costume - a red bandana, a denim vest over a leather jacket. 

“The Boss - Bruce Springsteen!” Eric replied cheerfully. He pretended to play guitar in the air and you arched a brow.

“Oh, I see it now,” you replied. Eric stepped closer to you, the scent of his cologne overwhelming you. 

“Maybe after the party we can have some treats, no tricks,” he replied, licking his lips. He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close to him.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice trailing off. “I have to stay to help clean up and it’s going to be a late night.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Rafael who entered the room. He was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera and your mouth went dry as you drank him in. The silk tail suit was fitted to him perfectly and even though he wore a half white mask, his handsome features were still obvious. 

Rafael glanced your way and his cock twitched at the sight of you in your costume. He, however, was irritated two fold - one, for your blatant disregard for his request to not dress provocatively and two, Eric being draped all over you. 

His heart was heavy as he watched you chat animatedly with Eric. The two of you stood close, the chemistry undeniable. It’s torture, standing there, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush him. 

Seeing you with Eric now felt like a cruel, all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder of the impossibility of the two of you becoming something more. Eric was charming and confident, with an easy smile. Rafael’s guts churned as he watched the two of you share a laugh. The last time Rafael felt this way with someone was with Yelina and that whole disaster soured him to the notion of romantic love. People surely warmed the bed, but never the heart.

Rafael tried to immerse himself in the festivities, but the sight of the you and Eric together consumed him. He forced a smile as he joined a group playing a Halloween trivia game, but his mind drifted back to you. Everything about you made his heart ache.The jealousy gnawed at him, sharp and painful. Rafael reminded himself to look away, that it was none of his business as to who you are with. Every time he looked up, however, Eric was still there, wrapped around you with his hand resting on your back in a way that felt too intimate to bear.

As the evening wore on, Rafael’s jealousy bubbled beneath the surface. He watched as Eric leaned in closer, whispering something that made you laugh. Despite the festive atmosphere, Rafael felt miserable. His jaw clenched as he caught Eric tilting your chin up before dropping his head to meet your lips. Your wide eyes looked past Eric’s shoulder to Rafael and met his eyes. 

Rafael’s face was unreadable. He turned on his heels and left.

**

Rafael stepped outside to the cool October air. He let out a breath as he leaned against the brick wall of the church, his blood boiling underneath his skin. He knew he had no claim to you but he couldn’t help how jealous he felt. He couldn’t focus on anything but the image of you looking at him square in the eye as Eric kissed you. He wanted to rip Eric off you - punch him and then some. He knew he was going to hell for thinking this. 

Rafael wanted to be the one to hold you and kiss you and bring you pleasure. It had been so long since he had anyone whimpering under his touch. He peeled himself off of the wall and went back to his place. His hand shook as he poured himself a glass of scotch. You got under his skin and it gnawed at him like an itch he could scratch but not relieve. 

Rafael decided a cold shower was what was needed. As the cool water ran down his skin, he leaned into his need for release.

“Fuck it,” Rafael swore. He took his cock into his hand and began to stroke. As he did so, he began to play with you in his mind.

Rafael thought about you in your costume - the fishnet bodysuit… the tiny shorts… he imagined a trail of kisses that would start from your lips, to your exposed neck. He imagined smelling your skin. If he tried hard enough, he could recall the scent of your skin. He imagined peppering kisses along your collarbone, and venturing south to your breasts. 

Rafael stroked himself rhythmically, squeezing at the base with every downstroke. Rafael let his thumb glide across the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum that had begun to leak before resuming his movements, now stroking faster. He let out a moan, imagining it was you sucking and stroking him instead. 

Eyes closed, he pictured the curves of your body, the sweat dripping off your skin, your body swaying as he imagined fucking you. He imagined how wet you’d be, how good your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock, taking him deep. 

Rafael moaned your name as his hips bucked; his balls began to feel heavy and that familiar coil in his gut began to emerge, signaling his need for release. Rafael began to stroke himself feverishly, working faster and faster. He gripped the wet tile of the shower knowing he wasn’t going to match much longer. Rafael’s hips jerked forward and he shouted your name as he came all over his hand, his stomach and floor of the shower. Rafael continued to stroke himself languidly, squeezing out every last bit of cum.

With a shuddering sigh, Rafael leaned back against the cold tile. He watched as the water washed away the evidence of his release, swirling down the drain. Though his spent washed away, the guilt and jealousy he felt remained. 

He stayed in the shower until it became too cold and his fingers began to prune. He stepped out of the shower, his mind was still racing. The steam from the shower fogged up the mirror and he used the side of his palm to wipe away the condensation. He braced his hands on the sink and stared at his reflection. 

Did he really think by wearing a collar he would stop being a man? 

You were an exercise in sexual frustration.

‘Too much is at stake,’ Rafael thought bitterly. ‘I  need to keep things strictly professional.’

Strictly.

Professional.

Rafael finished toweling off. Finding himself still too agitated, he threw on some clothes and went for a walk in a desperate bid to quiet his mind.

**

Hours later, the party was over. Some people had stuck around to help you clean up, but now you were alone. You preferred it that way - you were too upset with the night's events. What was supposed to be a joyous night was effectively ruined. 

You found a still wrapped candy bar and you cheered victoriously to yourself. You tore it open, before taking a bite. As you chewed your candy, you connected your phone and played your own curated list of music.

You recalled the kiss with Rafael and closed your eyes. You were so tired. You emphasized to yourself that your attraction and lust Rafael - a priest - should fill you with shame as it had been doing. You should not admire the dark line of his lashes or the placement of the small mole on his neck. You should not remember the events of weeks ago, when his mouth was on yours or the warmth of his hands on your body, the weight of him pressed against you. You knew he wrestled with his own yearning, knowing the risks involved in crossing that line. The weight of his position kept him at a distance, but the connection between the two of you grew stronger with every passing day.

Letting out a yawn, you stood up and stretched. You looked around at the decorations that remained. With a sigh, you grabbed the small ladder and climbed. You leaned over, standing on your toes. You strained as you reached, your footing already precarious. As you stretched just a little further, you felt the ladder wobble beneath you. “Just a little more,” you whispered to yourself, but the ladder had other plans. Before you could register what was happening, it tipped, and you found yourself falling, heart racing.

A familiar voice shouted your name, sharp with concern.

In a flash, Rafael was there, arms outstretched, catching you just before you hit the ground. The world around you spun for a moment, and then you were in his arms, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and urgent, his brow furrowed with worry. You could feel his heart pounding as he held you, his grip tight.

“I—I think so,” you stammered, cheeks flushing. “Just a little surprised.”

He set you gently on your feet, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer than necessary. “You shouldn’t be climbing ladders alone,” he said, a hint of reprimand mingled with concern. 

“I thought I could handle it,” you replied, trying to regain your composure. “But clearly, I was wrong. What are you doing here?” You took in Rafael’s appearance - gone was the Phantom costume, replaced with dark jeans and a Harvard hoodie.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. I saw the light of the basement still on and it is late. Have you been here alone this whole time?” There was worry etched in his voice.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta clean up.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “If I knew you were going to be alone, I would have stayed behind to help.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, really.” You made your way over to a bowl that had a few remaining pieces of candy. You grabbed a miniature Hershey bar. You split it in half and offered a piece to Rafael. He accepted and his fingers brushed against yours. The sensation was electric and tender, a fleeting spark that sent a rush of warmth through your body. The air shifted, charged with the unspoken feelings that have been building. You wondered if Rafael could sense it. When you looked up at Rafael, you got your answer. 

Rafael had taken a step closer to you. Your pulse pounded in your throat as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and, ever so delicately, took your face in his hands. 

It was then, when he kissed you. There was no hesitation. No shyness. Only need.

You leaned into him and kissed him back, winding your arms around him. You clung to him as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your throat, his hands traveling down my back and pressing you to him with a strength you didn't know he had. You dug his fingers into his back. Hard.

Rafael groaned your name against your neck and then his mouth was on yours again, hard, with a deep and searing need. You groaned against him, pressing yourself closer to him, feeling his cock twitch by your belly. You rucked up his hoodie, running your hands along his sides and Rafael let out his own needy groan.

“Take me,” you begged in between kisses. “I’m yours.” You wanted Rafael in a way you’ve never wanted someone before and it was clear that he wanted you.

“I fucking hate myself right now, but we’re not having sex.” 

Of all the things you were expecting him to say, that was somewhere right near the bottom. 

“What?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you. No. Shit, I do, but not right now.”

You look taken aback when you pull away. “Excuse me? Why not now then?” Your cheeks burn and your eyes begin to water, tears threatening to fall. You feel humiliated and you just want to bolt.

Rafael cupped your cheek and stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. He tugged it gently and then released it. “The first time I fuck you, I'd rather do it anywhere but the church basement.”

Your heart pounded with excitement. “Do you have an office? And does it lock?”

“Yes. And yes.” Rafael outstretched his arm, reaching for your hand.

You took his hand into yours and squeezed it. “Lead the way, Father.” You gave him a wink and his gaze darkened in response.

“Oh my little lamb…calling me father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.”

You paused. “Did you just quote the hot priest from Fleabag?” You didn’t wait for him to respond and you just continued your train of thought. “Just when I think I have you figured out…”

Rafael didn’t reply at all. Instead he just tugged you towards him and kissed you. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and moans that escaped into the quiet of the room.

“My office - now.”

TBC.

**

Tags based off likes/comments from first part (lmk if you want to be removed): @umnitsa, @wh0re4olderm3n, @princesspink23, @cissyenthusiast010155, @cabensonsgirly, @i-run-with-scissors39, @madpanda75, @storiesofsvu, @alwaysachorusgirl, @plaidbooks, @witches-unruly-heart, @rebeccapineapple, @sorchathered, @sophieturnersdoppelganger, @miffykhai, @chops-a-w, @yspix7y, @strings-mklsn, @meganmaschke, @bunny-lin, @the-jocus, @raulismydreamman1978, @kayla1304, @jwertish, @bungurus, @mymiraclewitch, @kooky-gal, @savlovesmarvel, @1dluver13xx, @mmx888, @jazzyj93, @madamsnape921, @l-u-n-a-m, @gabby913, @chiltonsmywife, @supernovamybeloved, @withasideofmeg, @skyfire1602, @thatpersonone, @uhhh-hi-there, @frostywinterstrawberry, @doublebumy, @designersophisticate, @ziggymars, @eltrujillo, @i-dont-want-to-name-my-blog, @gibbs274, @Letstalkchilton, @ritasantosworld, @pskss, @lookng1016, @pepperbstark, @21cannibal, @distinguishedenemyangel, @mayrapaulina28, @melk917

[thatesqcrush]

Beautiful Sinner Series

Synopsis: After leaving behind his high-powered law career, Father Rafael has found solace and purpose in his new life as a priest—until a mysterious newcomer disrupts his hard-won peace. Drawn to her quiet strength and wounded past, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he’d left behind. As his feelings deepen, so does the conflict between his vows and his heart, forcing him to confront the limits of faith, desire, and forgiveness. Will Father Rafael stay true to his calling, or risk everything for a chance at love he thought he’d sworn off forever?

Rating: NSFW for language, mature themes & strong sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Forgive Me Father

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Forgive Me Father

Based off this prompt ("My love for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it.") & this image. @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @plaidbooks this is for you. Fuck, I am going to hell for this.

He cannot believe that this happening. That he has allowed for this to happen.

The catechism of the Catholic Church mandates that those who are called serve as priests are to remain celibate "for the sake of the kingdom of heaven." Called to consecrate themselves with undivided heart to the Lord and to "the affairs of the Lord", they give themselves entirely to God and to men. Celibacy is a sign of this new life to the service and is to be accepted with a joyous heart.

For twenty one years he has been able to do this. Twenty one years as a priest, all ruined by you.

He’s in the confessional, his cassock pushed upwards, his legs spread, pants down by his ankles.

You are looking up at him with big innocent doe eyes as you perform unholy acts with your mouth.

The salty taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth as your tongue swirled around the head before flicking over the tip and then underside to the frenulum. His balls hung heavy and you gently rolled them in your palm.

You flattened your tongue and then took the entire length in your mouth. His cock is thick, with a large vein down the shaft. Your lips are stretched over his impressive, thick length as you blow him. Your knees hurt against the cold hard floor but you don’t care as his quiet grunts and groans spur you on. Your hands brace against his thighs as his cock hits the back of your throat.

Father Rafael wrapped both of his hands into your hair, guiding your mouth along his cock. Your eyes teared up as he abused your throat. Mascara dripped down your cheeks and saliva pooled around the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the floor. Rafael let out a groan as his cock twitched, signaling that it was near release. Your mouth was flooded with the taste of his thick, hot, salty cum as he released into your mouth. Rafael shuddered as the last drops of his cum released into your mouth. “That’s it, take your communion,” he rumbled, deep and low.

You released him from your mouth, some cum dripping from your mouth as you did so. Rafael wiped it with his thumb and shoved it in your mouth. You let out a hum as your tongue licked and sucked his thumb clean. Rafael helped you up and pulled you to him, kissing you hard, near bruising your lips.

When the kiss breaks, he cups your face gently and lovingly. A smirk graces his face. “My desire for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it."

“Am I absolved Father?” you ask. Your voice is raspy. It makes Rafael’s cock stir again.

Rafael’s eyes stare into yours and you feel like you will drown in them. “My child.”

You nod. As you turn to leave the confessional, his final words cause you to freeze in place. But still you shiver in eager anticipation.

“One act of contrition, five Hail Marys, three Our Fathers. Come tomorrow. Repent, then, and show me your worth, so that your sins may be wiped out.”

Rafael tucks himself back in as you discreetly leave the confessional. He watches your form disappear and then lays prostrate on the floor in despair.

FIN.

[thatesqcrush]

Coming Soon: Beautiful Sinner - a taboo romance fic feat Priest! Rafael Barba x f reader

Lmk if you wanna be tagged.