#priestly x you

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

[mirandapriestlyswife]

Tdwp 2 should have a scene of Miranda talking to Andrea over the phone and its heavily (so heavily) implied that they’re married and Miranda calls her sweetie or something.

MirAndy fans get some new fanfiction content and the original plot for the movie stays the same, win win 😍

[daughterofcain-67]

🎄𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈!🎄

Christmas is around the corner and I’d like to start writing some one shots or mini series to get ready for the holidays! Here are some ideas to request from if you’d like 🥰

And if you can think of any other ideas that aren’t listed and you’d like to see, feel free to let me know!

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛:

Jensen Ackles

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Beau Arlen (Big Sky)

Boaz Priestly (Ten Inch Hero)

Soldier Boy / Ben (The Boys)

Alec / X5-494 (Dark Angel)

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

Seeing snow for the first time

Ice skating

Secret Santa

Christmas Decorating

Snow angels

A Christmas Alone

Sitting by a Fireplace

Making Gingerbread Houses!

Ugly sweaters

Catching a Cold on Christmas Eve

Going to a Christmas Party

Matching Christmas Pajamas!

Christmas Baking gone wrong!

Gift shopping

Snowed In

Christmas Letters

Building a Snowman

Mistletoe

New Years Party

New Year’s Kiss

𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎:

"You didn't really think I would let you spend Christmas alone, did you?"

"Have I told you how much I hate Christmas shopping?"

“Why are you so impossible to shop for?”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“What’s the point of a tradition if no one keeps it?”

“My house, my rules. Christmas music stays on.”

“You’ve really made my Christmas this year.”

“Please don’t make me wear this, I look ridiculous!”

“It looks like Santa threw up in here.”

“Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe!”

“You’d make a cute elf.”

“You didn’t put up decorations, so I decided to do that for you.”

“I can’t believe no one has spiked the eggnog yet.”

“Can’t you feel the Christmas spirit?” - “No.” - “Well that’s about to change!”

“If you make me sing carols, your ears might bleed.”

“Who taught you how to bake!? You nearly burned the house down!”

“When was the last time you’ve even decorated for Christmas?”

[warningsine]

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Jensen Ackles f/os part 1 of 2

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship @callsign-revenge

As always, * means they’re a platonic or familial f/o

Michael Duss- wishbone

Aricka x Michael; you’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess

Brad- sweet valley high

Aricka x Brad; got your picture in my locket

Eric Brady- DOUL

Aricka x Eric, soap opera sweethearts

Eddie G- blonde

Aricka x Eddie; movie stars and fancy cars

Alec- dark Angel

Aricka x Alec, you’re my angel baby

CJ Braxton- Dawson’s creek

Aricka x CJ, college cutie pie

Jason Teague- smallville

Aricka x Jason, smallville sweethearts

Dean Winchester- supernatural *

Aricka and Dean; hunters and elements

Jake Gray- devour

Aricka x Jake; uncovering the mystery with you

Boaz Priestly- ten inch hero

Aricka x Priestly, hey lover I like you just the way you are

[die-schwanenkoenigin]

Sensual [rated E]

“I was just scared because we haven’t done this before. And I just didn’t want to ruin your mood by—by grossing you out.”

“I wouldn’t have ever suggested doing this if I weren’t confident that we were both going to enjoy it. I’m not squeamish, Andrea. You know how much I care about you. Your pleasure.” She lowers her voice, then; tucks a strand of hair behind Andrea’s ear. “You are the center of my universe.”

***

Andy is on her period—and very turned on. Miranda takes care of her.

》 Read on AO3

[sinner-as-saint]

no masters or kings

Priest!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before. 

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff)

a/n: i’m going hell anyway so yeah, PILFS <3 

“It’s very late.” 

His hushed voice echoed in the empty, dark church. Your back stiffened as you froze, standing by the pews. You turned around slowly and found him standing at the entrance, the rain falling noisily behind him. As if creating a curtain to separate you two from the world outside. 

You knew where the switches were but you didn’t turn on the light when you walked in. There was just enough light coming from the outside to allow you to move properly and see. So you couldn’t exactly see the expression on his face. 

But you saw that he was drenched, completely. He must’ve gone on a run, you figured, and instead of going back home for the night, he saw the little light at the church doorstep and decided to come check who was here. 

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” You whispered back, watching him as he stepped inside and shook his head – reminding you a little of a dog shaking – as he tried to get the rain water out of his hair. “You once said you always left the church unlocked so I thought…,” You sighed, “I should probably go.” 

“No.” He was quick to say, in that tone. Your body tensed up. “Stay.” He added quietly. 

You looked at him. Drenched jacket, wet track pants sticking to his body, he was breathing heavily so he must’ve ran all the way here. He did that often, he once said. He liked running at night. 

You watched as he stepped closer to where you stood. That little bit of grey in his beard drove you insane. Suddenly you couldn’t think. 

He had that look about him which you could only describe as ‘priestly’. Wise, slightly older, calm. He was the kind of man you’d want to open up to. You’d want him to see all that was dark and wrong inside your human heart only so he could use that firm, strong voice and tell you that it’s all gonna be okay. That you were forgiven. Loved. And never alone. 

You watched as he unzipped his jacket, revealing that ridiculously tight black shirt inside which clung to his ridiculously muscular torso. 

“Did you need me?” He asked, again in that voice. That comforting voice that made everything okay. 

You knew what he meant. How he meant it. You knew he meant it in an innocuous way. But fuck if your mind didn’t go straight to that sinful pit it stays in. Temptation, like a vicious vine, reached and wrapped around your brain as you struggled to speak. 

It was always like this. Ever since the first time you stepped foot in this space and found Father Barnes sitting in silence all by himself. At first you mistook him for being just a parishioner. Black slacks, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, only when he turned around to face you did you notice the white collar. But by then it was too late and in your head you’d already imagined his naked body taking yours, owning you, using you. 

That day, you could tell he could almost read your mind. You were embarrassed so you excused yourself and left quickly. And anytime you wanted to be back here, and be good and behave, one look at Father Barnes and you felt like you were burning with all that pent up desire. 

It wasn’t entirely your fault. When you married your husband, you knew what you were getting into. You knew you married a man who was already married to his job in the city. But your parents couldn’t let such a wealthy, beneficial, and strong alliance go. You were given a luxurious life. There was nothing you lacked. 

You had a lavish home here in this small town, a wedding gift from your busy husband who visited maybe twice a year. You had it all. Money, vintage cars, horses you loved, a home you liked taking care of, privacy, all of it. 

All except company. Intimacy. Feeling a warm body press up against yours at night. Feeling warm skin against yours in the early hours of a lazy morning. You never got to hold hands with anyone, or get a hug. Or share a meal with. Or go on walks with. You were all alone here. And maybe that loneliness pushed you to visit the church the first time. 

Ever since, Father Barnes had become a habit. Watching him, picturing him doing unholy things to you, noticing him whenever you were at a coffee shop, or the library. You yearned for him. And it was all only heightened by the fact that he was so unreachable. So kind. So unlike how you wanted him to be. To him, you were just another lost soul he wanted to guide. 

Did you need me? 

Yes. Yes you did. In the most dirtiest of ways one can imagine. He was a handsome man. Kind blue eyes, long black hair that nearly reached his shoulders, a face only God could’ve created, and that body that he liked to take care of. He was a dream. 

And a priest. 

“I…” You struggled to find your words. “I thought a walk would help tire me out and put me to sleep. But then it started raining so here I am.” You gave him a faint smile. 

He returned one back. 

He ran his fingers through his wet, long hair and said, “I can keep you company for a while, if you want.” 

He waited. Then you said, “I’d like that.” 

–

Bucky was praying in his head as he asked you to take a seat, then sat down beside you. 

He prayed to God, in fact to anyone and anything that would listen to him. God, gods, universe, the freaking stars in the night sky which weren’t visible right now because it was pouring like it was the end of the world. He prayed you wouldn’t glimpse down and see the thing growing in his pants. 

He was ashamed. 

Ever since he first saw you, there was this pull he’d never felt before. It was like having burning hot claws sink into his flesh each time he laid eyes on you. Out on the streets, in the coffee shops, in the library, in the little diners, at the freaking grocery store, in parking lots – it was a small town so he saw you a lot. 

He had to walk by your extravagant property each time he went to the bakery, and each time he felt like a little boy who was excited to see whether or not the pretty girl would be outside this time to smile and give him a little wave. 

Then each time he saw you in this church it was somehow way worse. Like being here made the temptation more sinful. 

Bucky looked up at the cross and mentally begged. Make it stop. This is wrong. Make it stop. 

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Your gentle voice spoke. “I’m sure you need your sleep.” 

“It would be wrong of me to leave you here all by yourself.” He said, realising that this was the longest conversation you two had had. Usually you were too shy to even look him in the eyes. You kept your sentences short and always looked caught. 

So he liked this. 

Silence. 

Then you said, “I was never religious, you know?” There was a faint smile in that tone, he didn’t have to look to know. 

“Are you now?” 

He could feel your shrug. “I don’t know.” You answered. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be… so desperately good. Like you, for instance.” 

Oh if only you knew… 

Bucky shifted in his seat. Mentally begged God some more as the quiet tone of your voice made it hard for him to even sit still. He wanted to let out some of the primal aggression he was feeling. Squeeze something. Bite something. Sink into something. Preferably your tight hot body. 

Heavens. He sighed. Help me. 

Clearing his throat he said, “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to. It’s enough for me that you feel comfortable enough just to come here and feel like you’re not alone.” 

A moment of silence passed, with just the sound of heavy rain in the background. “But it’s not enough for me.” Then you quickly added, as if embarrassed that you must have overshared, “I shouldn’t be saying these things.” 

“Why not?” He frowned. What things? 

You let out a soft chuckle that only sent more blood down to his rock hard cock. Bucky clenched his fists, struggling. 

“It’s the middle of the night. I should go.” You said. 

No. He didn’t want you to go. “If there are things you need to voice out,” He said, “Would the booth make you feel more comfortable?” 

You chuckled again, turning your head to look at him. Bucky let his eyes roam all over you very, very quickly. Dark trousers, dark jacket, a scarf around your neck… too many layers. He almost groaned as he imagined himself peeling all those layers off of you. 

“Oh Father Barnes,” You sighed. “Maybe another time.” 

Then you left. Leaving him confused, aroused, and feeling way too much. 

— 

The next time Bucky saw you was yet again, on a random rainy night. After his daily run, he noticed the small lamp outside the church door was lit and ran all the way to the church to check out who it was. 

He ignored the boyish hope in his heart which begged that it’d be you. Yet he breathed out in relief when he saw it truly was you. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, hoping his tone wasn’t too teasing. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Would you… um, last time you mentioned the booth. Do you think, I mean, I know it’s late and–,” 

He cut you off by walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Follow me.” 

You did. 

–

Sitting down on the wooden bench felt weird. You’d never done it before. Never been inside the wooden box. The space was small, dark wooden panels on all sides. A small opening allowed you to partially see Father Barnes on the other side, that is if it was during the daytime. Right now, it was all too dark. You only knew he was there by the sound of movement. 

The air smelled like candle wax and incense. It felt mysterious, intimate almost to be here with him. It felt weirdly comforting. Maybe this is why people come back, you thought. 

“You’ve never done this, have you?” He asked. 

“No.” You replied, feeling a little out of place. 

“Well, we begin with the sign of the cross…” He trailed off, as if hoping you’d do it along with him. You did. Then silence. “Now, you may tell me about the things you left without saying last time.” 

You took a deep breath. Then said, “I think I’ve been alone for way too long.” 

There was a pause before he spoke. “Alone? You mean in this town?” 

You exhaled calmly and explained, “I mean in my marriage.” 

–

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. Alone in your marriage? God help him. This was not helping his sick, twisted fantasies. All those times he fantasised as he walked by your expensive home about how he could just walk in and find where you are and demand you let him take you. Your husband wouldn’t be home. He never was, everyone knew that. Most people pitied you, the rest envied your lifestyle. But he… oh it was his most sinful fantasy till date. 

He forced himself to ask, even though he was in no shape to hear the answer, “What is it that makes you feel this way? Is there a lack of some kind?” 

He heard your shaky breath, as if you were debating whether you should tell him. “I…” You started, then stopped. Then sighed and finally said, “I’ve never been with my husband.” You explained further. “We both agreed that our marriage was only a way to solidify the business transactions between our families. We both agreed we wouldn’t be a conventional couple. He craved his busy work like in the city and I liked the tranquillity of a small town.” You paused. 

Bucky listened intently. 

“So I knew what I was getting into when I got married and moved here, while my husband remained in the city. We only see each other maybe for two weekends out of the year and that too only during the holidays when we need to put on a show for our families and smile and look happy in family photos. And I was fine with it.” Another defeated sigh. “But then it got lonely.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath as he shook his head slightly, begging God again. Don’t let my mind go there. Don’t let the fantasies seem attainable. Please. He begged. But he also needed to say something back. Something priestly. And quick. 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, refusing to even acknowledge the growing desire in his pants. Yet again. “So it’s the distance. How long has this been the case?” 

You replied, “Since the very start. I’ve never been with him, you see?” 

No. No. No. 

“Never lived with him? Never felt a sense of companionship? I admit, that must be very hard. To feel alone in a marriage–,” 

“Father Barnes,” It sounded like you were begging in shame as you interrupted him. “I have never had sex with him. Or anyone. Ever since I got married two years ago. Do you understand now?” 

“Oh.” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Oh? I guess it must come naturally to you. To dodge those, um, desires but, I’m only human. I’m a woman, with needs. I… it worries me sometimes because often it is all I can think about all day.” Another humourless laugh. “I don’t have much to do, you see? I do enjoy the simplicity of the small town. I love my animals, my staff, I get to do things I’ve always wanted to do. I can drive around and read, and paint, and cook, and I truly do enjoy my company but sometimes… It can be very lonely. One time I–,” 

You cut yourself off. And silence followed. Tormenting Bucky even more as you left him wondering. And oh did he wonder. About your lonely nights. About you in your luxurious home, in your large bed, fingers sliding in and out from in between your thighs, crying out loud as you make yourself come. Poor you. Rich, lonely wife of a careless, rich man. Forced to take care of your needs all by yourself. 

If only there was an equally lonely man able to keep you company. If only… 

“What?” He asked, because he needed to know. “One time you what?” 

“I… you know there are people who provide services. For women like me.” Your breathy voice was driving him to the fucking edge. 

“Women like you?” 

“Yes.” Your voice was more firm now, almost like you were smiling in a mischievous way. “You know? Rich, lonely women. I almost, I mean for the longest time I contemplated hiring a male escort. But then I didn’t.” 

“I see.” He said again. “Feeling alone and neglected can result in wanting companionship in whatever form is available.” 

He was barely holding on to fucking sanity now. 

“But it was wrong, wasn’t it? To want to be with another man, any man at this point to be honest.” You sighed. “It’s like an itch that never goes away. And it makes me…” You paused, then said, “It makes me want things, crave things, crave people that I shouldn’t. It’s getting worse and worse,” You confessed. “Sometimes I leave the doors and windows unlocked or opened, even at night,” You sighed, struggling too by the sound of it, “Shamelessly hoping someone might just walk in and–,”

“Stop.” He said, using a voice he never did before. He had never interrupted a penitent so rudely. So suddenly. But he heard his own twisted fantasy come out of your mouth in that breathy tone he would lose it. “Please,” He begged in a lowered voice. 

Then he heard your gasp. Like you were ashamed. Alone in that wooden box, drowning in your desires and temptation. Right there, in this dark night, right fucking there for him to take. To taste. To touch. He was no one but a starved male at that point. He was nothing but the desires in his head. The fantasy. The claws of sin dug into him, reaching places he thought he’d shut off forever but there they were, open and raw and wanting. Wanting you. 

He didn’t know when he got out of his side of the booth and opened the other side to find you with a surprised look on your face. Surprised, but with lust in your eyes. 

“Father Barnes?” 

Bucky was crossing that line he shouldn’t. He knew he was. There was no going back. Not as he knelt down right in front of you. The space was cramped but he didn’t care. He knelt in between your legs and looked up at you. 

“You said you craved people you shouldn’t. Is one of them me?” He asked. 

–

The tension was too much. The air around you shifted. You looked down at him, not regretting the dress you wore because now you could feel him in between your bare legs. Even in the dark his body tormented you. He was still cold and drenched from the rain earlier. But so firm with your thighs pressing around him. 

“Yes.” You answered, truthfully. 

His warm hands were on your bare thighs immediately. Rubbing up and down like he had all the time in the world. “Is that so?” He questioned. His tone was lower, darker. Grave. Fuck. “Is that why you wore a pretty dress to come see me? In the middle of the night?” 

He leaned in, lips brushing against your collarbones and neck as he breathed. His warm breath making you squirm and shiver. You bit back a moan as he slowly slid his hands under your dress. 

He looked down at his hands disappearing beneath your dress for a quick moment before he looked back up into your eyes in disbelief. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asked upon further inspecting your body, as his fingers brushed against the softest, thinnest of lace underwear. “Surely you didn’t wear this for your husband who never comes home to you, hmm? Answer me.” 

“No.” You answered firmly. “I didn’t wear it for him.” Of course you didn’t. Your husband treated you like you were non-existent. Not that you minded. 

Bucky chuckled, his mouth still exploring your skin. His stubble rough against your soft skin. “And what did you think was gonna happen here? Showing up dressed like a shameless woman. Did you hope you could tempt me into touching you?” He whispered. 

His fingers slowly slid past your underwear, exploring the warmth there. You let out a soft moan, your own fingers sliding into his hair as he groaned upon feeling how wet you were. 

One moment he had a little bit of sanity left where he kept telling himself that he could stop at any moment if he wanted to. But then he slid his finger inside you, and the soft moan you let out was his undoing. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he leaned in to kiss you. Hard and fast, before his mouth found its way down your neck again, until he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and sucked. Hard. 

You couldn’t help but gasp and moan as his warm mouth wrapped around your flesh, wetting the fabric of your dress. Then he shifted to the other one, making you whine and squirm against him. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as he toyed with your breasts. 

And then he was eagerly bunching up your dress so he could taste what he wanted the most, that wetness in between your legs. “Good women don’t do this, you know?” He whispered, “What if someone comes in here right now and decides they need some peaceful alone time? What then?” 

You whined as he lowered your underwear, throwing it aside carelessly. You knew nobody would come in here right now. It was the middle of the night again. This whole small town was asleep. Not even one car drove on the road. But you still played into the fantasy because it was so hot. You were burning, feeling the touch of a man after so long. 

“They’d catch us.” You said, “They’d catch you.” You groaned, doing absolutely nothing to stop him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Or maybe they’d see you spreading your legs like a desperate whore for me and decide they want to watch the show. Maybe they’d even grab a chair and sit, and watch as I make you feel good.” You whined upon hearing his words. He couldn’t help the smirk. “You like that? Hmm? The possibility of someone finding you in here, legs spreading and your arousal dripping out of you? Does that make you feel powerful? Wanted?” 

“Please…” You begged, quietly. 

Then he gave you what you wanted. And you let him. You let him taste you until he had his fill. You let him take one of your legs and put it over his shoulder which opened you up even more to his warm, eager mouth. To his tongue which slid in and out and up and down until you were almost crying in pleasure. 

“Look at you,” He said, kissing down your inner thigh. “Spreading your legs for a man of God like a shameless little slut, hmm? Is that what you are?” 

He ate you out until you were trembling, until your arousal was dripping down his chin. “Fuck, please!” You cried out, fingers tugging on his hair. His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth –  it was all too much. 

“Is this what you wanted? All those times you left your doors and windows unlocked, did you ever wish I would wander in and just take you however I wanted?” He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. “Hmm? Did you ever think about me while touching yourself, you filthy little whore?” 

“Yes…” You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

Which he was. It was like he was tasting the most forbidden of fruits after years of being denied. Like he was suddenly unchained and free. Hungry. 

You whined as he pulled away without letting you come. You wondered if he regretted this, if he would kick you out but he only pulled you off the bench, flipped the two of you around in the dark so that he was the one sitting on the bench now and pulled you onto his lap. 

You were surprised for only a moment, but then got over it as you found your impatient hands at the waistband of his track pants. You paused, for only a moment, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, you looked up into his eyes, they shone even in the near complete dark. Like he was… godly. 

“Are you sure you want–,” 

He cut you off, firmly. Using that tone again. “I will die right here if I don’t take you right now, you hear me?” 

You nodded, reaching for his cock as you said in a shaky voice, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Did you?” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. 

You nodded, wondering if he even saw it in the dark. But you didn’t care, not as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock, hearing him hiss in pleasure as you lifted off of his lap, aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance before gently sinking down on him. 

“Oh fuck,” You cried out as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. 

“Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss as he thrust his hips up. He hadn’t done this in a long, long time but nature took over. He wanted more, more, more. “This is all you wanted, huh? Always giving me those eyes, always giving me that look,” He sounded stern. Almost mad. “You were basically always around me like a bitch in heat, hmm? Is this cock all you were craving? While living in your nice big house, your husband away earning money for you to spend, all this time you’ve been thinking about me, hmm?” 

“Yes…” You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little so as to not hit the roof of the booth. 

“Yes what?” He asked, sounding all cocky and less priestly as he smacked your thigh. 

“Father Barnes,” You corrected yourself, “You’re all I wanted. You’re all I think about.” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. He was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Bigger, even. 

“You don’t even care how wrong this is, do you?” He threw his head back, grunting at how good you felt. “You don’t even care what you’re doing to a pious man like myself.” He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “I thought about you too, you know? About this tight little cunt, dripping and hungry for me. Some nights I would’ve done anything for just a taste of you.” 

His words were too much. The whole situation was too much. Too good. The space felt hot, stuffy, and sinful. “Please, I need to come. Please.” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in sync with his thrusts. It only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lip to hold back your moans as he thrust his hips up more into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came so close to coming undone for him. 

“You’re gonna come for me, little lamb?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock like a shameless woman, huh? Not caring about where we are, what time it is, or what your husband might think if he ever finds out, you don’t care, do you?” He chuckled. “You’re too cock-drunk to care, too much of a little slut for me to care, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please.” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” 

Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. 

Bucky came right after you, feeling his whole body tingle like this was the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. His warm load spilling inside you as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just rammed his cock in and out of you like an animal. Like he hadn’t just sinned in so many ways. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in his strong arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his cum flowing out of you. 

“You’re not gonna hire any stranger to come and keep you company, you hear me?” 

You nodded, face brushing against his damp shirt and his warm neck. It felt good here, in his embrace. It felt safe. 

“I’m here, and you’re mine to take care of now. When you need to be fucked, you come find me. Is that understood?” 

You smirked, then said, “Yes, Father Barnes.” 

---

part 2

[thebiggerbear]

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: Hughie and everyone don't understand what you see in Soldier Boy but they also haven't seen what you've seen: Ben.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen Ackles RPF prompt response project I've been working on the last month (previewed here). This idea immediately popped into my head for it.

All unbeta'd.

Warnings: language; implied past sexual assault (not SB); mentions of implied drug use; mentions of violence; mentions of death

Word Count: 2199

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Soldier Boy Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @faephoria; @believeinthefireflies95

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch; @rebel-paladin; @nancymcl

Beau Arlen | Dean Winchester | CJ Braxton | Jake Gray | Jason Teague | Boaz Priestly | Russell Shaw | Tom Hanniger | Jensen Ackles RPF | Alec McDowell

Once MM stormed out of the room, followed by a glaring Butcher, Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie descended on you. Frenchie stayed in the corner, beyond shocked — so shocked he forgot to puff away at his still burning cigarette.

“Seriously?” Annie spat angrily.

Hughie looked more disappointed than pissed off at you, and that somehow bothered you more than Annie’s fury ever could have. “Y/N, you’ve got to explain this one to me. I don’t…” He took a deep breath and began again. “The guy’s a fossil. A racist, homicidal, perverted piece of shit fossil.” Hughie placed his hands on his hips. “What do you even see in the guy?”

Kimiko furiously signed a repeat of the question.

You knew Hughie was right. Soldier Boy had done a lot of fucked up shit — shit that wasn’t forgivable in any way, shape, or form. But you also knew Ben, the man underneath all of that asinine machismo and false bravado. You’d seen glimpses of him here and there when no one else had, when Ben himself hadn’t even known you had. It also didn’t hurt that you’d seen memories of his childhood play in his mind or saw flashes of his strained relationship with his father — the man he could never live up to or gain his approval, no matter how hard he tried. There was a lot swimming underneath the surface of that green suit, under that indestructible skin, that had gotten corrupted and then shaped by easy fame, a greedy corporation, and more drugs than any person should have coursing through their system on a daily basis, even a Supe. All of it was certainly no excuse for the things he’d done, but you knew there was more to him than who he’d been, who he was now even — you’d literally seen it.

So you looked your oldest friend in the eye and spoke as honestly as you could. “Everything you don’t,” you told him quietly before walking out of the room in the opposite direction MM and Butcher had gone in. You came to a stop outside the door when you saw Ben standing there, his green eyes watching you sharply. 

He had obviously heard every word and while it wasn’t exactly something you wanted him to find out, you refused to act embarrassed or caught out. So you stuck your chin up a little higher, daring him to say something he would end up regretting should he piss you off.

“You saw a lot more than you let on when they had you do a read on me after pulling me out of the tube.” Not a question but a statement, one that didn’t contain any traces of surprise.

He was right; you had seen plenty — some things you’d rather forget. But you had meant what you said to Hughie just before, to Butcher and the team before that. There was more to him than the green suit, than the America’s Son bullshit facade, and even the horrible things he had done in his time. There was something there worth trying to extricate, to let see the light of day that hadn’t in a very long time. 

You didn’t respond to what he’d said; you had no need to. You only watched him as he watched you.

Ben took a few wary steps forward until he was right in front of you. He carefully reached out a hand to your cheek, laying his fingers along your skin when he saw that you didn’t immediately pull away from him. 

“So,” he started, his voice a little more gravelly than usual as he spoke quietly to you, only for your ears and his. He tenderly ran his thumb near the corner of your mouth. “I matter to you, huh?”

When you thought he was indeed making fun of you as he thought he might, echoing your words back to you, you noticed a small smile forming on his face as his eyes roamed over yours. You had seen plenty of smiles from the man since you’d first seen him a couple of months ago or so — mostly smug smirks or leering grins, usually aimed at everyone but you — but you had never seen this one before. It caught you off guard so much, you were captivated. “You know you do,” you murmured. 

He stared at you for a moment, glancing between you and your mouth, and then slowly leaned in. When his lips gently connected to yours, you felt an immediate electric shock travel through your system. So much so that you started seeing images playing behind your eyelids that weren’t your own. 

…Him listening to you and Hughie bicker in the next room about which Billy Joel song was the best (We Didn’t Start the Fire for you and Pressure for him) and how he smiled to himself when you told Hughie in a playful tone to suck it when the little whiny bitch tried to show you what the critics helmed the better song. 

…Ben getting angry when some piece of shit Supe had the balls to put his hand on your ass at Herogasm — a hand he immediately crushed.

…Him surreptitiously studying each interaction between you and Butcher, noting the hostility but begrudging respect between you, wondering if there was a story there and if there was, how he planned to convince you that he was the better man for you compared to the backstabbing Brit.

…Him rushing to protect you with his shield when one of Homelander’s team of misfits you didn’t see coming nearly killed you with a massive blow. You felt the rage coursing through his veins when he noticed a small trickle of blood coming from a wound near your scalp as you glanced up at him gratefully. Most of the Supes you had engaged had died that day and now you knew exactly why.

…Ben watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stood at the window, arms crossed and ominously silent, after MM had mentioned The Deep while planning on how to take out Homelander. He waited until everyone had cleared out, even Hughie who had squeezed your shoulder as he passed you by, and Ben carefully approached you from behind, torn between wanting to pull you back into his large frame to cage you protectively in his arms or to ask what was the matter. He had ended up going with the latter and you simply said “Kevin’s not a good person” and walked away, your shoulders a little more sunken down than he’d ever seen them. You felt his resolve from that moment and now knew why he had gone after The Deep with such a laser focus before even bothering with Homelander. 

…You reassuring him when he suddenly woke from a sound sleep, gasping and wide-eyed, as his chest began glowing — a result of him not self-medicating nearly as much as he used to. He had wanted you to feel safe around him so he’d cut back on the Bennies, the reefer, the booze, and even the women. He would never admit it out loud but he cared deeply about what you thought. Unbeknownst to you at the time, when you had first seen inside his head, he had gotten a glimpse inside of yours, too. And what he had seen…he wanted to be a man worthy of you. Or at least try his best. You were everything he hadn’t even known he wanted until that moment. So he had made a valiant effort to kick the drug and alcohol habit to the side but it didn’t come without consequences for him. Ben had dreamt he was back in Russia, stuck in a box as they poked and prodded at him, laughing and telling him he would never be free and he would never see anyone again. When he heard your voice telling him he was safe, he grasped for you and you let him, even though he felt you tense up at his greedy touch. “Sorry,” he gruffed out and immediately released you, worried he had either hurt you without meaning to or had made you uncomfortable in his bid to make sure you were real. “It’s okay,” you whispered, picking up his hand and placing it in between both of yours. “I’m right here. You’re safe.” When he felt your thumb tenderly swiping over his knuckles in reassuring strokes, he rasped out, “Did you see?” Instead of answering, you reached up to lay a hand against his cheek. “You’re home now and you’re never going back.” Your words were a fiery promise enforced by the steely resolve in your eyes. “I won’t let you.” He gently held his hand over yours and the glow in his chest receded; he believed you.

…Him watching you as you slept on the opposite end of the couch. You mumbled and sighed a lot in your sleep and it fascinated him. Earlier, when you had found the show he wanted, he had asked you to sit and watch with him, just in case he didn’t understand any of the references. You had obliged and promptly drifted off two episodes in. To Ben, it was a huge ego boost; you felt safe and comfortable enough around him that you could fall asleep near him. As he watched you, hearing your sounds, he really wanted to know what you were dreaming about, especially when your brows knit together and you let out a terrified whimper. He had picked you up without waking you and held you close to him. “You’re okay, doll,” he promised in a soothing murmur to your hairline. “I’ve got you and nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it.” He heard you inhale deeply and then release a contented sigh a moment later. You relaxed in his arms, curling into him, and he stayed like that the entire night: holding you as he watched episode after episode of Friends, something he had only picked because he thought you might like it enough to agree when he planned to ask you to stay. As much as he enjoyed the sound of your voice when you patiently explained things to him, the night turned out even better than he dared to hope, especially when you subconsciously buried your face into his neck and stayed cocooned there. Only when he heard you beginning to stir back into consciousness hours later did he gently place you back in the spot you fell asleep in, pretending not to notice when you fully woke up, opening one sleepy eye to find him in front of you. He shrugged off your apology and glanced over to find you softly smiling at him, causing a strange twinge to happen inside his chest, something reminiscent of when the nuclear reactor inside of him went off but far less dangerous…and much more pleasant.

The images faded as he slowly pulled back a few inches, his green gaze staring deeply into yours. “Was that okay?”

You slowly nodded, still beyond shocked not only at what you had seen or how gentle the kiss had been, but also the sensations it had caused to sweep through you — things you were pretty sure you’d never feel in your lifetime. Hints of desire and a lightness whispered throughout your body as another stronger emotion gained a foothold and blanketed your entire being. Whereas it might have frightened you before, it didn’t now. You knew you were safe, protected, and after this kiss, you now also knew you were cherished to a certain extent.  

Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, fleeting relief gave way to a small smile on his face and he tenderly placed his thumb on your chin. “Good. Because you matter to me, too.”  

You couldn’t help but smile in return, seeing his eyes light up, and you gently framed his face in your hands. You stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his again, eager to see more as he willingly put his guard down to let you completely in. You also wanted to experience that rush of sensations again with him and this time when he wrapped his arms around you to carefully hold you against him, you buried your fingers into his hair and only deepened the kiss. It wasn’t Soldier Boy who was kissing you back and whose thumb tenderly brushed against your jawline; it was Ben — the very Ben you’d seen hidden underneath all of the layers of toxic masculinity, simmering rage, and the Supe tamping down the man with years of drug use, womanizing, and an overinflated ego. And from the images and thoughts swimming in your mind that didn’t belong to you, your Ben by all accounts. Something that sadly Hughie and the rest would never understand or even be willing to try. But as Ben soundly kissed you, when he broke away to let you catch your breath and placed his forehead against yours, tenderly rubbing strands of your hair that had come loose between his fingertips, you found that part didn’t really bother you all that much.

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[eringobragh420]

Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader Summary: Damian and his girlfriend disturb the peace. Warnings: NSFW, obviously, lol. Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, mild pain play, cum. Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend, @terrortwinunicorn. If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Requested By: @danithepenguin05-blog. Hope you enjoy! Notes: This one got away from me, but I loved the requester's idea so much lol

“You know, I’ve been watching you all night …” She jumps at the voice coming from behind her, smiling when she can feel his warm breath ghost across her neck and bare shoulder. “And I think I’m gonna fuck you in that dress.”

Her grin widens, brow arching. “You might wanna be careful,” she advises, “my boyfriend is a big dude, and he gets really jealous.” She turns around, eyes climbing to meet the pair gazing down at her.

“Is he bigger than me?” Damian growls, puffing his chest out as much as he can in the confines of a button-down shirt, vest, and suit jacket, somehow making himself seem even taller than his normal six-five. 

“Oh, damn,” she purrs, closing the space between them. “You’re way bigger. Let’s get out of here.”

“And fuck you in that dress?” Damian repeats, eyes sliding down the garment in question—a deep purple ruched midi-dress with one sleeve and an asymmetrical hem that hugs every one of her curves, even ones she didn’t know she had but was excited to find just the same. His hands claim her hips, sliding back to her ass, possessive in his Priestly way, and she beams up at him. Her hands glide up his chest, straightening the tie she’d had to tie for him before clutching at the lapels. She inhales his cologne and body wash and the scent that is simply Damian, and her heart flutters, pussy dampening at the same time. The control he has over her should be studied by science.

“And fuck me in this dress,” she whispers, pulling him into a kiss that starts as a peck, but when she tries to pull away, his long arms wrap themselves around her. She giggles against his lips, her own arms snaking round his neck only when he bends his knees and comes closer to her height.

“We better get going,” Damian mumbles. He leans sideways and glances down at her silver heels—the ones that have diamond-encrusted bows on the toes, the excess of which provocatively climb her calves. “Because I think I wanna fuck you in those heels, too, and I know you’re not gonna last much longer before you whip out the chanclas.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “Well in that case … Priest, you big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever.” She’s given universal consent with a quote from their favorite movie to watch together, and the change in her boyfriend’s demeanor is palpable.

Damian releases her only to drop his arm around her shoulders, and she reaches up to interlace their fingers. She’s smiling up at him, adoring, as she usually does, when she notices the Three Stooges headed their way, all of them leaning on each other, none of them able to walk in a straight line. They stumble over JD, who is passed out with his head on a plate of salad. Damian glances down at her, shaking his head, and she takes the hint, averting her gaze in the opposite direction. Together, they pick up their pace.

“Guys, wait!” Dom hollers behind them.

“Nope,” Damian grumbles so only she can hear, and they continue on.

“Don’t leave us hangin’!” Finn slurs.

The couple continues on, waving goodbyes to friends in passing, blissfully, though not really, ignorant to the whining that seems to be following them.

“Besties,” Rhea cajoles, then exclaims, “oh, shit!” just before a stomp, a thud, and three dummies giggling. Damian and his girlfriend slow to a stop and look at each other.

“There’s like a 70 percent chance they’ll die if we leave them here,” she says.

Damian rolls his eyes, nods, and turns to their friends, waving his arm for them to hurry up. And once they arrive at the rental SUV, Damian stuffs all three of his inebriated friends into the backseat, slamming the door in Dom’s face when he asks if they can stop for chicken tenders on the way to the hotel. Rolling his neck, he straightens his suit before turning to his girlfriend, who’s patiently waiting near the front passenger door. He opens it for her, taking her hand and helping her inside before closing the door and making his way around to the driver’s side.

“No, but seriously,” Dom says, poking his face between the front seats. She glances at him, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol, and then she looks at Damian, catching him taking yet another deep, calming breath through his nose. “I was lookin’ on my phone earlier and there’s this place that’s open late that has tendies …” He begins searching the pockets of his suit. “Hey, hey, who has my phone?”

“Whoops,” Rhea giggles from behind her, and Dom reaches over Finn.

“Give it back!” Dom exclaims.

“Get your arm outta my face!” Finn says, shoving Dom’s arm away.

“Tell her to give me my phone back!”

“Give him his bloody phone back!”

“I know his passcode,” Rhea taunts.

Suddenly Dom’s own shiny black shoes bounce between the front seats as Finn launches him into the trunk area of the SUV.

“Well, open it already! What are you waitin’ for?” Finn shouts, holding Dom back as he both fights to climb over the seat and grab his phone from Rhea at the same time.

“If this is what having kids is like, you can forget it,” Damian remarks, making a left turn out of the parking lot. His girlfriend watches the street- and headlights bounce off his handsome features, smiling when he places his hand on her thigh, lifting her dress just a little.

“I’m not really concerned with that right now,” she quietly replies. The three in the back are still arguing and paying no attention to what’s going on in the front. Damian looks at her, and she lifts her hips, tugging the bottom of the dress up her legs until the very tops of her thighs are visible. His eyes return to the road to be sure he’s still in his lane, snapping back to her as she places her hand atop his, beginning to slowly drag it up her satiny skin.

Damian’s rough fingers make first contact with her bare slit, and he casts another glance in her direction. Her grin is wicked as she licks her lips, rolling her hips against his touch wantonly. His left hand grips the steering wheel, he adjusts the positioning of his own hips, and his middle finger slips within her folds. He massages the tiny nub in slow circles, torturing, before gliding his touch up and down, easily causing her pussy to surge. She sighs, head falling back against the seat, and she bites her lip.

“Shit,” she whispers. She squeezes his solid forearm with both hands as she rides his gifted fingers. Slithering inside her, first with one finger, then two, he hooks them expertly, and her back bows. The raucous from the backseat, the very fact that she and Damian are not alone in such a tiny space, sends her into a shivering, inaudible orgasm quicker than is typical when he uses his fingers on her. She releases his arm, gaping as he brings those cum-coated digits to his perfect lips where he sucks them greedily into his mouth. His cheeks hollow with the suction, sculpting those bones exquisitely, her thighs instantly twitching. He pulls them from his mouth with a lewd pop, winking at the same time, and she knows exactly which direction things are headed once that hotel room door clicks closed behind them.

He opens her door after backing into a parking spot. He rearranges the bulge in his pants as he holds his other hand out for her. She makes a show of raising her hips so she can pull her dress back down to its original length before placing her manicured hand into his, carefully climbing out of the vehicle. Damian closes the door, leaning down to press his lips to her ear.

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you,” he says.

“Promise?” she murmurs, brows raising.

“You guys suck,” Dom complains, tumbling out of the back of the SUV. Finn and Rhea lean on one another, uncontrollable laughter passing back and forth between them. “Now everybody’s gonna think I’m weird.”

“You are weird,” Finn and Rhea snicker in unison.

Damian’s arm rests on her shoulders once more, their fingers again tangled, as the party of five boards the hotel elevator. Dom continues to whine about whatever Rhea and Finn did to him, which evidently has something to do with an embarrassing Twitter post. But their bickering slowly begins to fade into mere background noise, the three of them standing in front of her and she in front of Damian, and she snakes her hands behind her. Her nails clack against her boyfriend’s belt buckle, a sinister grin splitting her lips as they continue southward. She follows the zipper, the mechanism threatening to burst trying to hold back the monster hardening within, which she tenderly cups in both hands. Damian brings an arm around her shoulders and across her chest, the other enveloping her waist, and she rests her head against his pec, massaging his still-growing cock through his pants. His perfect mouth latches onto her ear, biting, kissing, sucking, moving onto her neck, making sure to touch all of her spots. She’s so distracted she doesn’t notice his hand sweeping back across her chest so he can fondle her breast, which further occupies her attention and keeps her from realizing he’s pulling the sleeveless side of her dress down until that bare breast falls out. He takes it into his hand again, groping obscenely, all the while feasting on her neck.

The ding of the elevator breaks the couple’s building tension, and Damian lifts her dress back into position before the doors slide open. They resume their customary holding of one another as they follow their three friends into the hallway, Damian having to redirect them from turning right to turning left. The lump in his slacks is incredibly conspicuous, but he doesn’t try to hide it, and she doesn’t blame him—he has a lot to be proud of. She waits by their room door as he snatches the key card out of Finn’s hand, knowing none of the inebriated three will be able to operate the machine. He herds them inside, not even bothering to take Rhea to her room, and closes the door before they can make any more requests.

She backs slowly into their room as Damian stalks her. He regards her with a tilt of his head, stealthily reaching back to turn the lock on the door after it clicks closed. He casually starts toward her, opening his suit jacket and allowing it to slide down his arms. He catches it in one hand and lays it on a nearby dresser. Her breathing accelerates and she chews on the inside of her cheek as he unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves halfway up his forearms like he’s about to take on a task that’s going to last for hours.

“I love that dress,” he tells her, closing the space between them.

She smiles. “Well thank you.” She runs her hands up his chest, over the vest this time, applying a small amount of pressure just so she can feel how hard his muscles are. “I thought you might like … the easy access.” Her hands come down his abdomen and she takes hold of the buckle on his belt. “And I—” She starts to unbuckle it. “—might like—” She unbuttons and unzips his pants. “—this big cock in my mouth.” 

Ahead of her descending to her knees, he grabs hold of her with his hands under her arms and he tosses her back onto the bed. A giggle nearly erupts, but Damian is leering at her in a way he’s never done before as his fists come down on the mattress, then his knees, and she backs up on her elbows. When she comes to the pillows, she bends a knee, lifts her leg, and Damian pauses his advance. He glances at the heel perched delicately on his against his shoulder, the diamond bows, the diamond ribbons ascending her calf, and when he returns his attention to her, his eyes are devoid of any color except sable and he’s wetting his lips.

“Lick me, Papí,” she says.

Damian chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her ankle. “¿Qué dices?”

“Please, Papí, will you lick me?”

He seizes her thighs, spreading them, pushing them back toward her until her hips nearly come off the bed and her elbows collapse. She feels the cold from the air conditioner rush over her bare, wet pussy, sending a shudder throughout her body. She lifts her head only to have it fall back into the pillows again after watching Damian lick a hot stripe from her aching hole to the top of her slit. She groans and her back arches as she grabs at his ponytail of tiny braids, to which he responds by closing his lips around her clit and sucking, slurping, effortlessly holding her legs in place as she fights to close them around his head.

“Fuck,” she yelps, releasing his hair to reach back and grip the headboard. Damian releases one leg so he can pull her dress down until her breast spills out, and that heel lands on his back, digging in as much as she dares as she tries desperately to ride his tongue. Damian grunts, coming away from her pussy, and she looks down at him, worried the heel in his back is too painful. He glances behind him in the direction of the heel, and when he looks back, she’s not sure he’s the same person. This man must certainly be the devil—the onyx flames in his eyes and the impish slope to his grin supporting her hypothesis. He surrenders her other leg, and she instantly brings the heel down onto his back, because that’s where a devil would want it. His eyes close briefly, opening just before he attacks her pussy, assaulting every nerve-ending with every trick he knows. She cries out, heels burrowing even further as her body undulates, and gushes cum all over Damian’s gifted tongue.

Without warning, Damian pulls away, standing on the floor now at the foot of the bed, the bottom half of his face glistening with her juices, and he repossesses her legs. Before she has time to pout, he yanks her down the bed, a leg on either side of him. He reaches down and wraps his hand around her throat, pulling her into a sitting position, her hands immediately rummaging through his pants and briefs, reemerging with Damian’s cock and balls. She makes a show of spitting into the palm of her hand before sliding it down his rigid shaft. He leans down to kiss her, pulling back just as she attempts to accept the kiss. She glares, trying again to kiss him, only to be met with the same results.

“Papí,” she sulks.

“I want you to choke on this dick first,” he tells her, hand still clutching her throat, lifting to the point she’s nearly coming off the bed. She sighs, glowing, hand decelerating on his cock. “You know I like kissing you when your mouth’s a mess.”

She nods, waiting obediently for him to release her neck, and as soon as he does, she has his cock buried almost to the root in her throat before she gags, coughs, and has to come up for air.

“Fuck!” Damian shouts, one hand on the back of her head, the other on the side near her neck, as he thrusts into her mouth. She grasps the ends of his belt, simply using them for stability as Damian rides her face. After several pumps, he pulls out, strings of saliva and precum bridging her lips and his cock. Now he allows her to kiss him, groaning as their tongues twist and curl, and she knows he can taste his cock all over her mouth, just like he likes it.

He picks her up under the arms again and launches her just a few feet back on the bed. Snickering as she bounces, she watches as Damian sheds all of his clothes from the waist up before crawling on his knees to get between her legs. He takes one of her heels and arranges it on his chest. Rubbing the velvety head of his cock along her throbbing clit, she feels him press into the heel, so she adds resistance with her leg so it might go deeper.

“Goddamn,” he roars. He starts to push himself inside her, and she revels in the sensation of being split open as she gives a moan of her own.

“Mmm, Papí likes a little pain,” she coos. She gives him a shove with the heel, and he snarls, glaring down at her with a tilt of his head, and maybe she went too far, but they’re past the point of no return. “That’s hot.”

Damian’s hips surge forward, impaling her completely on his rock hard member, nearly bouncing her head off the headboard if not for the pillows. She cries out, gripping the wood that is fastened to the wall, making it safe from rattling. However, the mattress has a squeak, which sounds in time with Damian’s rapid thrusts. He wraps his fingers around her ankle, anchoring it to his chest, other hand groping her bare breast, and he has a steady, albeit aggressive, rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants with each and every pump, unknowingly increasing the force in her leg. “Fuck me, Papí!” she cries out, finishing with a whisper, “please … please …”

Damian cries out his own set of curses, and with one final surge forward, he releases inside her. His pace slows, but doesn’t stop for several moments. A smile grows on her bruised lips, and even though she’s positive her makeup and hair are both incredible messes right now, she doesn’t feel shame or embarrassment. Her boyfriend doesn’t need to see her painted and polished to perfection every moment of their lives. And anyway, he’d warned her of his intentions to wreck her. Eventually he pulls out, lying next to her, and moments later, the couple is snoring together—she still in her dress and heels, he still in his pants and shoes.

The next morning, following a refreshing joint shower, they collect their belongings—Damian handling the heavier items, always leaving with her as little as possible to carry—and as she’s holding the door for him, Dom, Finn, and Rhea exit their room, Rhea having retrieved her things from her room earlier. The threesome are already wearing sunglasses and share a similar pale complexion, but when they spot her and Damian, they collapse into giggles.

Brows furrowing, she asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Finn replies.

She glances at Damian, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. They all head to the elevator, the three amigos murmuring amongst one another, and she has no idea what’s going on, but she knows it has something to do with her and Damian. Everyone stuffs themselves and their luggage into the tiny box, Rhea punches the button for the lobby, and the doors close. This is the moment the three of them launch into a litany of moaning and groaning and one of them even imitates the sound of a squeaking bed.

“Fuck me, Papí,” Dom’s voice is many octaves higher than normal.

“Papí likes a little pain,” Rhea joins in.

Finn repeats almost verbatim Damian’s list of curses after he came, and for some reason, she doesn’t understand what they’re talking about until this point. She feels her cheeks erupt as if coated in lava, and she’s shell shocked a moment before turning to Damian, who already has his hoodie unzipped and one side of it opened. Mortified, she buries her burning face against his chest and he covers her with the jacket. The rest of the elevator ride is filled with snickers and imitations.

Once outside, she pushes ahead of the group, hurrying toward the rental when she hears the distinct sound of hands clapping. Turning, she catches Damian grinning like he just won the fucking lottery, sharing handshakes with the boys and a high-five with Rhea.

“Really?!”

** Chanclas - Flip flops ** Papí - Daddy ** ¿Qué dices? - What do you say?

[astonmartinii]

hii, can i request an insta au for lando? i don’t have something particular in mind, bit maybe best friends to lovers kinda thing? and their friends teasing them/ being annoyed? <33 love your work!!

best friends 4 ever | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x bff!reader

best friends? lovers? who knows?

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 320,879 others

yourusername: clubbing on a budget 🍒

view all comments

user1: where's lando?

user2: yet another post without lando, have they broken up?

user3: how can they be broken up if they aren't together?

user4: why do you people think lando and y/n doing things separately is illegal?

user5: why weren't you at the race?

yourusername: babes i'm just a bartender i do not have the schedule or the finances to just fuck off to saudi arabia for three days sorry xx

user5: you clearly had the weekend off?

yourusername: please refer to my previous statement on my financial standing

yourbff1: who is that stunning woman?

yourusername: u bestie

landonorris: glad you went with outfit choice number one

yourusername: thank you miranda priestly

oscarpiastri: so that's who i could hear you talking to...

yourusername: clubbing outfits are a serious business oscar

oscarpiastri: serious enough for a three hour call?

yourusername: YES.

landonorris: YES.

landonorris

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 902,894 others

landonorris: mood before the race v after the race, see you next year jeddah 🇸🇦

view all comments

user6: what driving a tractor does to a motherfucker

yourusername: what's a performance where a man is having the worst time of his life but looks sexy doing it?

landonorris: beauty is pain

yourusername: then you must be suffering

user7: mr and miss we're not dating flirting up a storm in the comments as per

carlossainz55: maybe focus less on modelling and more on driving

yourusername: so no more ferrari thirst traps?

carlossainz55: damn i forgot that coming for lando means dealing with you

yourusername: meet me in the parking lot chilli

landonorris: y/n is like my little chihuahua so come for me, watch your ankles

user8: do they think we're dumb?

danielricciardo: ah the classic post mclaren snooze, if only you had your cuddle buddy

landonorris: i know you miss me mate but i'll cuddle you in melbourne

danielricciardo: ok. not what i meant. but i'll take the free cuddles

user9: so he was defo referring to y/n, right?

daniel3.jpeg

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 708,655 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris, heidiberger

daniel3.jpeg: any wagon need a third wheel, i'm practically a professional now?

view all comments

user12: confirmation? this is confirmation, right? RIGHT?

yourusername: i gave you that banjo in good faith daniel and this is how you repay me?

daniel3.jpeg: i appreciate her !!!! thank you for my lessons, but these are cute so i will not be deleting sorry not sorry

yourusername: ur right we are serving

user13: life is just not fair

user14: official cause of death: the third slide

landonorris: how relegated to just an arm, i see how it is daniel

yourusername: you are literally the definition of pookie bear and cutieful in the first pic

landonorris: i'm going to need you to never say those words ever again

yourusername: that's not what you said last night ...

landonorris: you're right i am pookie bear

user15: actual pics + comments = y'all can no longer say i'm being delusional.

f1wagsupdates

liked by user16, user17 and 3,240 others

tagged: landonorris

f1wagsupdates: lando norris spotted on his boat in monaco with an unknown woman. the pair looked flirty and spent the whole day together alone on the boat. norris' rumoured girlfriend y/n y/ln was back in the u.k. where she works as a bar tender. what do you think?

view all comments

user18: i'm so confused rn

user19: i know we never had concrete confirmation but my heart is broken for y/n right now

user20: i don't want to jump to any conclusions, men and women can be friends, there's nothing in these photos that suggest anything more than friendship

user21: they're literally holding hands in the second pic

user20: i hold my friends hands every time i jump in the water doesn't mean i'm with them

user22: but the pic in danny's post .... i don't even know anymore

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, landonorris and 356,823 others

yourusername: food will never leave me

view all comments

user25: so like is this a dig after those pics of lando and the random girl?

user26: i know this is sad and all, but that kebab looks banging please tell us where you got it

yourusername: camden market babes

yourbff1: sexy girl, sexy food and sexy photography

yourusername: best photographer i know

user27: SHADE LANDP.JPEG YOU WERE NEVER THAT GIRL

landonorris: camden kebabs without me? offended.

yourusername: doing a lot of things without each other recently.

maxfewtrell: could've at least invited me i love that place

user28: oof. i feel like i shouldn't be watching this

lando.jpeg

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,305,066 others

tagged: yourusername

lando.jpeg: appreciation post for my bestest friend forever and the love of my life. i didn't want to give any attention to the rumours going around so i thought i'd just let you know i'm in love, i've been in love for years and will be in love with her for the rest of my life.

view all comments

user29: okay, now the confirmation is here, idk what to do with myself

user30: i survived the y/n x lando slow burn

yourusername: i love you too bob

lando.jpeg: i love you more, can't wait to see you

yourusername: i'm never letting you leave again

user31: so like you're gonna deny being all up close and personal with a random girl on the boat

landonorris: not that i owe you people anything, that girl is my cousin, she was visiting monaco and i showed her around. but it shouldn't matter, you guys don't know me personally and stop assuming things about athletes' personal lives.

yourusername: what he said.

carlossainz55: FINALLY

danielricciardo: i literally don't know how much longer i could've kept this a secret

oscarpiastri: i think we deserve a reward

charles_leclerc: i second this

maxverstappen1: i third this

maxfewtrell: i fourth this

yourusername: alright, alright we get it

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 607,845 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: i guess we owe our parents £50 xx

view all comments

user32: bro this shit has me straight up crying THIS AINT EVEN MY RELATIONSHIP

oscarpiastri: you guys are cute i'll give you that

yourusername: teammate stamp of approval get it @landonorris

oscarpiastri: i think you guys got that after i walked in on you after silverstone

landonorris: our bad lol

user33: this reads like a fanfic but they're so cute

maxverstappen1: awww lando was so cute in that first pic, what went wrong?

yourusername: u and kelly look like siblings, don't come for us

maxverstappen1: u got it

landonorris: i love you fairy princess

yourusername: i love you racer boy

note: enjoyyyyyyyyyyyy. i originally wrote this a while back but it deleted itself when my laptop had a meltdown. so this is a bit diff but i hope you like it anyway !! xx

[zepskies]

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.” 

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail. 

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.” 

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

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@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

[crimsonender]

Lily. You are no match for the supreme powers of my evil autism. Here is a non exhaustive list of well written, complicated but inarguably villainous characters the audience is intended to and does sympathize with!

Josh Kiryu (The World Ends with You)

V (V for Vendetta)

Light Yagami (Death Note)

Crowley (Supernatural)

Sephiroth (Final Fantasy)

Ryo Akira (Devilman)

Xehanort (Kingdom Hearts)

Azula (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Killmonger (Black Panther)

Ben Linus (Lost)

Ashley Graves (The Coffin of Andy And Leyley)

Andrew Graves (The Coffin of Andy and Leyley)

Poison Ivy (DC)

Gollum/Smeagol (The Lord of the Rings)

Doctor Freeze (DC)

Satan (Paradise Lost)

Makima (Chainsaw Man)

Hades (Hadestown)

Eric (Phantom of the Opera)

Sister Jude Martin (American Horror Story)

Johnny (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac)

Miranda Priestly (The Devil wears Prada)

Sweeny Todd (Sweeny Todd)

Velma Kelley (Chicago)

John Gaius (Locked Tomb)

Solas (Dragon Age)

Griffith (Berserk)

Javert (Le Miserables)

Starscream (Transformers)

Mystique (X-Men)

Zim (Invader Zim)

Frankenstein's Monster (Frankenstein)

Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Lotor (Voltron Legendary Defenders)

Elphaba Thropp (Wicked [Book Only])

Simon Laurent (Infinity Train)

The Batter (OFF)

Blaine DeBeers (iZombie)

Zoisite and Kunzite (Sailor Moon)

Annie Wilkes (Misery)

Woodes Rogers (Black Sails)

Davy Jones (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Aravose (The Dragon Prince)

Kagura (Inuyasha)

Demona (Gargoyles)

Two-Face (Batman)

Tai Lung (Kung-Fu Panda)

Roy Batty (Blade Runner)

Lelouch (Code Geass)

Your mileage may vary of course, but we all know the reason why Lily said 50 to begin with was so that no one could possibly challenge her. Unfortunately for her, I, an extremely autistic man am not afraid of a challenge. If anyone else wants to add to my list go ahead! 😊

[gravehags]

all vacant and waste

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: picnics, car sex, confrontation, terzo being terzo, sister imperator ruining the vibes, sister imperator being a complex human being, copia standing up for himself and his girl, FORESHADOWING, mst3k reference

Words: 4,829

Summary: And the two of you were having such a nice day.

a/n: another lore fic but with bonus smut!! and family drama!! enjoy!!

~~~

When you awaken you’re surprised to see that it’s nearly noon.

Copia’s side of the bed is cold and you frown as you stretch and throw back the covers. Getting up, you pad to the kitchen, which is empty. You’re about to turn around and go get your phone when you spot a note on the counter written in a familiar decisive, loopy scrawl.

Amore,

Thank you for your candor and your affection, last night and always. I have a few things to see to this morning but when you are done getting ready (take your time!), meet me downstairs in the Papas’ kitchen - I’d like to pack a lunch and go for a drive. I will keep you in my morning prayers and hope that your sleep was as surprisingly restful as mine.

Ciao xx,

C

Your shoulders sag in relief as your heart swells - how funny the two of you both slept so well after such a harrowing late night conversation. You wonder if his dreams were anything like yours. With a loud yawn, you stretch once more and head back into the bedroom to get ready. Copia told you to take your time but you don’t want to leave him waiting too long and besides, you’re eager to see his face. Your morning routine runs efficiently and you select a short thin-strapped yellow floral sundress to wear after opening your window and gauging the weather. Grabbing your phone, your purse, and your keys you head out and down the stairs. When you approach the hallway leading to the Papas’ kitchen you can hear loud arguing in Italian. Hesitantly, you approach the doorway and knock against the frame.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

Copia, along with Secondo and Terzo, turn to look at you. When all three behold your outfit for the day all fighting ceases in order to coo and compliment you. You, however, are too focused on Copia’s outfit. He looks very priestly today in his black clerical shirt, slacks, and dress shoes and you can feel your face warm at the sight. Judging from the way his jaw goes slack at your outfit, he’s feeling the same way.

“Bella, look at you! All this wasted on il Cardinale, ah what a shame.”

You give Terzo a stern look and shove past him to go see the aforementioned Cardinale.

“Good morning, my love,” you murmur, kissing him once on the lips and once on the cheek, “Don’t listen to Terzo.”

“I rarely do,” Copia smirks and out of the corner of your eye you see Terzo make a rude gesture. Secondo snorts derisively as he slides a large basket across the island counter to you.

“For your picnic, piccolina,” he says, pointing to a loaf of sliced sourdough, a generous container of fresh mozzarella and basil, a jar of marcona almonds, and two bottles of aranciata rossa. You smile and stand on tiptoes to place a kiss to his cheek which again, has Terzo making a rude gesture.

“Grazie mille, Secondo,” you say, “No tomatoes with the mozzarella and basil?”

“With this one?” he scoffs, jerking his thumb towards Copia, “Never. Ask him to tell you about what Terzo did to him when we were kids.”

“Don’t remind me,” Copia grouses as Terzo chuckles sinisterly behind him, “are you eh, all ready to rock and roll, tesoro?”

“Whenever you are. Secondo, thank you so much, you’re the sweetest. Terzo…stay out of trouble, per favore.”

“I won’t make any promises,” Terzo comments airily, while sticking out his cheek for a kiss which you daintily apply. “Go,” he murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back, “enjoy your time away from here, huh? You and the rat deserve it.”

“‘The rat’ can hear you, figlio di puttana,” Copia growls, muscling in between the two of you with the picnic basket. You give the Papas a wave and you smile as you hear Secondo chastising Terzo on the way out. 

“By the way,” you say as you walk side by side down the hall, “you look delicious today.”

Copia scoffs but his ears turn red all the same.

“If I didn’t know any better, amore, I’d say you have eh, a thing for men of the cloth.”

Now it’s your turn to go red but you still grin at him.

“Now why would you think you know any better?” you purr, reaching out to squeeze his ass. The act has him gasping in faux-scandalization.

“Amore, don’t start something you can’t finish,” he says as you approach the front doors to the abbey.

“Later, then,” you wink and the two of you cross the threshold to make your way to his car. It’s beautiful out, as you thought it would be, but as you slide into the passenger seat you clock thunderclouds on the horizon.

“So where are you taking me?” you ask as he pulls out and down the driveway.

“I know a spot,” he smiles.

“Oh?” you turn towards him and rest your arm on the back of the seat, “Take all your girls here, huh?”

That makes him laugh out loud.

“Only the very special ones. So that is to say no one but you. I used to drive out here when I first started living here so I could clear my head and get away from the clergy drama. It’s been a while since I’ve made it out here. Too many eh, obligations now.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, reaching out to stroke his hair, “You deserve more days off. I’ve always said you’re the hardest working person in the abbey.”

He smiles softly.

“Second-most employee of the month awards,” he says, puffing out his chest.

“Oh Cardinal,” you coo, “Competency is very sexy, I–wait, second? Who has the first?”

“Eh, some guy named Kevin. Or Jesus. Depends who you ask.”

The two of you travel in silence for another fifteen minutes before Copia turns down a dirt road. The car comes to a stop next to a small, grassy clearing and he puts it in park before slapping his thighs.

“Here we are,” he announces and you both step out. As you move further into the grass while Copia takes the basket out of the trunk, you note a picturesque stream weaving in between the large oak trees. You inhale deep - it’s been a while since you’ve been out in nature - and the myriad of scents and sounds refresh you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, as he stands beside you. You nod and turn to take the blanket from him. You move closer to the water’s edge and spread it out, plopping down on the plush greenery. With a groan he takes a seat beside you and you begin doling out your meal. Your conversation is…lovely. Worlds away from the one you had in bed last night. You’re swapping childhood tales when you’re reminded of Secondo’s words from earlier.

“So what’s this thing with you and tomatoes?” you ask, popping an almond into your mouth.

“Eugh,” Copia says in between chews of bread, “Fucking Terzo. I don’t like raw tomatoes - never have. And yes I know, I know I make a poor Italian but when I was little, I don’t know maybe eight or nine, and Terzo was older - the right age to act like a little shit - he took a tomato from the gardens and chased me around the abbey with it. I was crying, he was laughing and when he finally caught me and smushed the tomato into my mouth I broke free, gagging. Before I could make it to the nearest bathroom I puked all over this ancient cardinal who had the misfortune of standing nearby.”

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth, “Copia that’s awful!”

“It gets worse,” he says, smiling despite his words, “This cardinal - his name was Carlo Udinesi - stood there filled with rage and told me, ‘you will never come to anything within this Ministry, ratto bastardo.’ He died not long after that. I remember his funeral and I remember wondering if my puke is what had pushed him over the edge.”

“Ominous,” you say with a laugh, “And not to bring up last night but very Damien Thorn of you, my love.”

“It was, wasn’t it? That’s where I got my tattoo from, you know.”

You tear into a piece of sourdough.

“I had wondered,” you smile, “Just chalked it up to you being a horror fan but I love it even more now.”

“It was a bit of both. Terzo convinced–”

You feel a large, heavy drop land on the back of your hand, followed by another, and another. As the two of you were engrossed in conversation you hadn’t noticed the storm clouds rolling over your heads.

“Shit,” you sigh, “we better pack up.”

Copia nods and stuffs the remainder of his piece of bread in his mouth, rising to his feet with you. Before you know it the sky opens up as you’re putting the food back in the basket.

“Cazzo!” Copia shouts as you ball the blanket up and he gestures for you to hand it to him, “Get in the backseat, I’ll put this shit in the trunk!”

By the time you make it back to the car and open the door, throwing yourself inside, you’re soaked. Copia joins you a minute later and slams the door, panting.

“Good thing you didn’t wear your paints today, huh?” you grin, “You’d have looked like a drowned raccoon.”

He reaches down and pinches your thigh.

“Very funny, amore. I think I would have looked eh, metal.”

“Oh I’ve hurt your feelings,” you murmur, “let me make it up to you.”

It takes some finagling but you’re able to pull yourself up and swing your leg over his lap to straddle him. 

“Signorina, in the backseat?”

You smile wickedly.

“Mmhmm. Want you in the backseat like I wanted it New Year’s Eve on the way to dinner. Besides, how am I meant to resist when you look like this.”

Your fingers make quick work of the top few buttons of his shirt and his hands come to rest on your ass and squeeze.

“When I look like this? Amore,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your neck that has you shivering, “almost told the brothers to fuck off so I could have you on the counter in this sweet little dress earlier, huh? Little tease.”

He captures your lips in a lewd kiss, tongues sliding against each other in a way that has you whimpering into his mouth. When you finally have to separate for breath he grins up at you.

“Ah, this is a familiar sight, eh dolcezza? Speaking of New Year’s Eve.”

You giggle warmly and nod, pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. When your teeth drag along the sensitive skin there you feel his cock kick against you.

“Cazzo, diavoletta mia. Have you–ah–have you always been so hungry for me?”

You pause in your efforts to suck a mark into his throat and pull back.

“Always.” you breathe, flexing your hips against him, “Wanted you from the moment I met you.”

“Likewise,” he sighs as you reach down to fiddle with his belt, button, and zipper, “when you walked into my office that day, unholy fuck. P-pretty little thing and so sweet. I k-knew you were special immediately.”

“Well,” you say, easing the thick length of him out of his underwear and rubbing your thumb against the head, making him gasp, “we were made for each other after all, hmm? Destined for one another. Destined,” you murmur as you shift the gusset of your soaked underwear to the side, rubbing your cunt on him, “to love and protect and fuck. So says your Unholy Father.”

Copia’s mouth hangs open as you raise yourself onto your knees and position him at your entrance, impaling yourself upon him with agonizing slowness. When you finally have all of him encapsulated in your tight, wet heat, he moans and his hands slide under the hem of your dress as a prayer is pushed from his lips.

“Ave Sathanas.”

Your breath comes in little pants as you cup the side of his face and run your thumb along his sideburn.

“Ave Sathanas,” you murmur, “for giving me you.”

Gently you ease yourself off him and take him back in, your mouths sharing breath. You’re trembling as you set a rhythm, riding him with increasing force as you moan wantonly. Between the rain and your actions, the windows of the LeSabre have become steamy and it only reinforces the filthiness of your act.

“Amata mia,” Copia grunts, thrusting up into you in time with each roll of your hips and making you see stars, “w-wore this pretty dress for me on p-purpose, huh? W-wanted this all along.”

Your laugh is breathy and borderline hysterical as you bounce on his cock.

“Mmm fuck–knew you’d love it. I was–ah–gonna fuck you outside on the blanket til the r-rain came. This is even b-better.”

The last word comes out of your mouth in a higher octave as you pant and whine, your thighs burning even as Copia massages them. When one of his hands slip between your legs, his thumb making tight circles over your clit, your back arches and thrusts your breasts into his face. Not missing a beat, he leans forward and sucks at your nipple through the thin fabric, eventually losing patience. Growling, he takes his unoccupied hand and tugs the strap and the front of the dress down until you’re falling out, his hungry mouth latching onto your hardened bud. Your eyes roll back as he plays you like a fiddle - cock pumping into you, fingers on your clit, lips on your breast - moaning into the humid air inside the car as you cling to him. He pulls off you to gasp for air, groaning.

“Cazzo, d-dolcezza, you’re close I can f-feel it.”

He’s right, with every rut of your hips and swipe of his thumb your cunt clenches around the thick length of him. He begins murmuring to you in Italian and you catch a few words here and there - good girl, perfect girl, mine - and when you look down into his eyes he gazes up at you with such raw adoration it pushes you over the edge. You don’t even realize you’re crying until his hands are on your cheeks, swiping away the tears as you ride out your orgasm. 

“L-look at me, amore mio,” he breathes, and you do as he asks, cupping his face in your hands. You watch as his jaw hangs open and his breaths come short and sharp, pupils blown as he fucks up into you one, two, three more times and cums with more of a wail than a moan. 

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your damp forehead to his, “I love you, I love you, I love you no matter what.”

You know your grip on him has to be borderline painful and when he reaches up to take your hands in his and press them to his lips, you sob.

“Thank you,” his voice is small, and he sounds like he’s holding back on tears of his own. “Amore mio, thank you. Sei il mio tutto. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

You hiccup and nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him close. His hands roam your back, tracing patterns as you breathe in the faint orange blossom scent of what remains of his hair pomade. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit like this - until your thighs start to ache and long after he’s gone soft inside you - but when you finally pull apart the way he looks at you brings a small smile to your face.

“We uh,” you sniffle, inelegantly wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “we should probably get back.” Your words are punctuated with a full body shiver that has him tutting and easing you out of his lap.

“You’re going to catch a cold like this, dolcezza. Half naked, hair wet. I’ll get you back to where it’s warm.”

“Grazie, nonna,” you murmur, giving him a wink before opening the car door. It’s still pouring outside but the fresh air after the humidity of the vehicle is nice, and it smells wet and green out. You don’t even mind getting a little more damp as you move to the passenger seat and Copia slides in beside you, eyes a little dewy.

“I eh, I don’t think I said it back but…I love you too.”

“I know.”

He chuckles.

“Okay Han Solo. I just have to say it out loud sometimes, huh? If only to remind myself that I uh, have somebody to love, sì?”

“My love, I will never complain about hearing it. It’s nice to be loved. Even though I’m um…still not really used to it, you know?”

You try to muffle the shiver that shakes you but Copia’s sharp eyes have caught it and he’s fretting again as he starts the car.

“Well get used to it, amore, because I’m gonna be so annoying about it I–”

The two of you look out the windshield. Or…try to. The glass is entirely fogged over from your activities and you let out a bark of laughter as Copia sighs heavily.

“There’s a rag in the glove compartment, can you…”

“On it.”

–

The two of you make it back to the abbey eventually, laughing as you run through the rain from the row of garages to the front door. When you step inside the marble entrance, it’s chilly and you grip Copia’s hand and start to drag him in the direction of your apartment.

“Come on, bello mio, let’s go dry off and put a movie on and…what’s wrong?”

Copia has stopped in his tracks and is staring straight ahead at the figure marching towards the two of you. You’d know the clack of those heels anywhere and your blood runs cold as Sister Imperator approaches, lips twisted in a disapproving grimace.

“I was under the impression that you two were under the weather. What a miraculous recovery you’ve made.”

You glance sideways at Copia, whose face is a mask. His eyes though, are filled with fire.

“So I took a personal day. Frankly, Sister, I think I deserve it every once in a while.”

“You have obligations, Cardinal.”

“Oh? And spending time with my Sathanas-approved mate isn’t one of those obligations?”

Imperator pulls back as if she’s been slapped and your heart sinks. Yes, the two of you had planned on confronting her about her demands but you wanted to be able to talk first. Plan. So much for being prepared.

“Both of you, my office, now,” she says, deadly quiet before turning on her heel and walking away.

Copia gives your hand a squeeze and when you look at him with anxiety written all over your face, his brows furrow.

“Together,” he murmurs.

“Together,” you confirm.

Sister Imperator doesn’t wait for the two of you, simply anticipating that you will obey her and follow. When Copia opens her office door she’s sitting behind her desk, hands folded on the surface and a venomous look on her face. The two of you sit down opposite her and she eyes your still clasped hands with disdain.

“I think this goes without saying but you’re fired,” she states curtly while looking at you. Your jaw drops and heart plummets but Copia barks out a harsh laugh.

“No, she isn’t,” he says, a faint sneer playing along his lips. “Because if you fire her, I’m leaving the church. And you can’t lose your precious pawn, can you…madre?”

She’s looking at you once again, her face pale and drawn.

“You–you told him everything? After I said–”

“How could I not?” you say and you hate the way your voice shakes, “How could you tell me all of that and expect me to keep it to myself? To suffer in silence with that knowledge about the only man I’ve ever loved? How could you think he didn’t deserve–”

“Your suffering means nothing to me, girl,” Imperator spits and Copia looks enraged.

“Her suffering is everything to me and you will not speak to her like that, capisci? How could you be so cruel to the woman your son loves? To tell her she was chosen to be a broodmare regardless of her personal desires?”

“She can be replaced,” she says, looking over to Copia desperately. “Cardi, we found her, we can find another.”

“Find…another…?” he says, blinking at her. “She’s…she’s not a broken toy that can be discarded and…how could you say such a thing?”

A silence descends on the room, punctuated by you sniffling and angrily wiping tears away.

“I love your son,” you say, voice cracking, “I would do anything for him. He knows this. I love him not in spite of what he is but because of everything he is. He’s a good man, a devoted cardinal. But he deserves better than to be pushed around on the Ministry chessboard his whole fucking life. He’s forty-nine years old, Sister. That’s forty-nine years you could have spent acting like his mother - caring for him like a mother would. But you–”

“Don’t you dare presume to tell me what I have and have not done,” Imperator says quietly, icily. “Do you think I wanted it to be like this? That after I gave birth I wanted him to be wrenched from my arms and treated like an orphan? To be told by Ministry officials that I was just a vessel and my claim on him was null?”

You blink back tears and with some surprise you realize she’s doing the same. You’ve never seen her so upset and judging by Copia’s face, neither has he.

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, “Sister, I am so, so sorry they put you through that. It’s not right and you deserved better.”

A tense silence settles between the three of you.

“Does my amore not deserve better?” Copia says softly. “Does she not deserve to have autonomy over her own body, as the Olde One deems? I’ll play my part, but spare her this horror. Let her stay by my side as an equal partner, let me keep her safe. Consider this the only favor I’ll ever ask of you, mother.”

Sister Imperator fishes a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes at her cheeks, eyes avoiding both of you. When she finally does look at you, there’s something deeply sorrowful in her gaze.

“I wish your father was more like you,” she says, glancing over to Copia after a moment. “Maybe things would have been different.”

“My…my father…?”

“Don’t be silly, Cardi, I’m sure you pieced the puzzle together by now. You were conceived in a ritual involving Papa Nihil being possessed by the Unholy Father.”

So Copia was right. You look over to him and his face is twisted in anguish, devastated to receive confirmation on what he suspected his whole life. You take his hand in both of yours and squeeze tight. Imperator’s gaze flicks between you both and she lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” she says to herself softly, as if making up her mind about something, “Okay. Plans…plans can be changed. In the end this…setback…affects very little, I suppose. I’ll have to speak to Mr. Psaltarian and the rest of the Council about this but…yes this should work.”

The weight in your stomach begins to lift and Copia looks over to you.

“You’ll respect my wishes, then?” you ask tentatively.

“Yes. Yes, dear I believe you’ll–everything will be fine.”

Dear. Well it’s a significant upgrade from girl, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Copia says, “Sister. Mother. Whatever. Thank you.”

She nods, but she looks preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Why don’t you two take the rest of the week? Give you a chance to clear your heads. I-I understand this has been a lot to digest.”

“I eh, thought I had obligations?”

Imperator gives Copia a tired look, perhaps the most motherly you’ve seen her thus far.

“I thought you deserved time off, Cardi? If not I can always send you the budget for–”

“Eh, no. We’ll take it. Thank you, Sister.”

The two of you rise and Copia leaves but you stand in place looking at the woman before you.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly, you’re not even sure she heard it until she nods. She opens her mouth to speak but shuts it again, clearly second guessing what she was about to say as she waves you out. When you shut the door behind you, Copia is leaning against the hallway wall and staring at the floor.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers reaching out to brush his side, “you okay?”

He inhales deep and exhales through his mouth before reaching for you.

“I’ve never spoken like that to her before. Pretty sad, huh? Almost fifty and–”

“My love, you were wonderful,” you say, gathering him into your arms, “I’ve never seen you so furious, it was magnificent.”

His shoulders shake in your embrace and for a heartbreaking moment you think he’s sobbing but when you pull away he’s got a grin on his face.

“Amore, you make me so brave,” he says, cupping your cheeks in his hands and placing a kiss on your forehead. You chuckle, putting your hands over his.

“Do you think…” you murmur, lips twitching into a smile and he cocks his head, “do you think when Meatloaf was singing about doing anything for love but not that, the ‘that’ was having the Antichrist’s baby because–”

“Sathanas, you only just dodged this bullet and now you’re making jokes? Incredibile.”

Chortling, he starts to walk down the hall and you loop your arm through his.

“Leave me alone, it’s how I process trauma. And I no longer think your mom actively wants to murder me in my sleep so I’m celebrating a win here, love. But…would you really have left the church for me? Did you mean that?”

Copia stops and turns to you.

“Assolutamente. In a heartbeat. A life here without you in it would be meaningless, amore. You are all that matters to me now and if that means finding a new job and a new home, well. With you I can do anything. And don’t you worry, I would never let her hurt you. Never,” he goes quiet for a moment and then speaks again, “Makes you wonder, though, you know. About what she has in store for me.”

“Hey,” you stop him, arms on his biceps, “whatever it is it’s your choice. It’s your life. No one is destined to fulfill any kind of contract, not even you. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you.”

He smiles, nudging your chin with his thumb.

“Let’s go take a hot bath, huh?”

You groan.

“Oh that sounds divine. And put on Mystery Science Theater 3000?”

“Which episode, though?”

“Antichrist’s choice tonight.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Manos.”

“The Hands of Fate? Classic. Hey, is it weird I always had a thing for Dr. Forrester?”

Copia stops in his tracks and you look at him innocently.

“Maybe it’s the whole evil thing. And the mustache.”

He calls you a name in Italian under his breath and you spend the rest of the walk back to your apartment begging him to divulge it. When the two of you reach the door he finally breaks.

“I said ‘birichina mia’.”

“And what does that mean?”

He sighs.

“Eh, ‘my naughty little one’.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you bite your lip while opening the door to your quarters.

“Get that bath started and I’ll show you just how naughty I can get, hmm?”

Copia grins at you wickedly.

“Twice in one afternoon? You spoil me, amore.”

“Hmm I suppose I do,” you say airily, lifting the hem of your damp sundress over your head and tossing it onto the floor. Copia’s eyes go wide as you pinch at your pebbled nipples and he backs clumsily into the doorway of your bedroom.

“Well go on,” you purr, shimmying out of your underwear. “Get to it, Your Eminence.”

You’ve never seen him move so fast as he hustles into your bathroom, untucking his shirt along the way. By the time the two of you are slumped over and spent much later in the now tepid bathwater, he’s softly singing something in your ear while your eyes drift closed.

“Is that one of Terzo’s songs? ‘Bible’?”

“Eh, yeah,” he sounds sheepish so you reach behind you to scratch his scalp soothingly.

“You’ve got a nice voice, my love. We should do karaoke one night.”

He chuckles.

“Oh no, I’m not built for performing, amore. Too much pressure.”

“Who knows,” you murmur, leaning back against him, “you might surprise yourself one day, hmm?”

[supernova351]

My opinions on the different character iterations in Trigun! (Some of these are serious…. Others less so)

Trimax Vash: My girlfriend who’s suffered more than Jesus

98 Vash: My little comphet king. You are trying so hard all the time

Badlands Rumble Vash: He’s ovulating and somebody needs to do him about it (it’s me I’m somebody)

Tristamp Vash: I like his new design solely on the basis that it was a choice Vash made to look more human, not studio orange trying to make him more fuckable. Come on. He already was.

Trimax Wolfwood: She has eldest daughter syndrome she has religious trauma he walks around wearing a suit in a hundred degree heat he’s bitchless and terrified of his girlfriend I want her

98 Wolfwood: Insane. He failed to knife fight a robot in the same episode he blew his priestly cover by shooting the same robots he failed to knife fight. This was the episode he was introduced

Badlands Rumble Wolfwood: Rack +10 waist -5 whiteness x 29

Stampede Wolfwood: hes trying so hard and it’s so pathetic I’m gonna punt him down a staircase (affectionate)

Trimax Knives: So cunty with it she slays absolute penis. She has a PRESENCE!!

98 Knives: Cartoon ass super villain. Just so pathetic it captivates me

Stampede Knives: I can’t verbalize how much I want to break a chair over his head. Just fucking let him have it.

[die-schwanenkoenigin]

Stalling the Inevitable - Chapter 6

Andrea has been acting strangely all day, and Miranda is intent on finding out why. An opportunity arises when the younger woman, rather curiously, asks to use her private bathroom.

Or: Andy has made the decision to wear... a unique accessory to work.

[now finished]

Read on AO3

[talkbycolor]

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡